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Suguru chose a seat not too far back, not too up-front, aiming to avoid the pleading eyes of a professor when a question is met with prolonged silence, but also close enough to not strain himself to hear. It was his senior year and his looming graduation, so rapidly approaching, made it much harder to put anything more than the minimum effort required into his studies. Most professors came to expect this plight of a senior and in turn they eased on the breaks and graded with much less scrutiny. This understanding especially manifested in the major Suguru was in - his fellow theology students and accompanying professors were few and far between, allowing for intimate student-teacher relationships to be built throughout one’s time at the school.
While many had switched out of his program throughout the years, whether out of a lack of real interest in the subject or a sudden realization of the terrible job market for the major, there remained a passionate group of students who took great pleasure in learning about theology and engaged with the same rotation of professors both in and out of the classroom. Suguru was no exception and enjoyed his conversations with his professors, and after nearly four years of them, he felt they were closer to being peers instead of just another student-teacher relationship.
That’s why, when an unfamiliar face sauntered towards the podium front and center, Suguru had assumed it was someone from a previous class collecting a forgotten item. He clicked aimlessly through his email, doing a double-take when he glanced back up and the unknown person was still standing there, staring at the class like he was expecting something. The whiteboard was no longer blank, now decorated with what was assumedly the man’s name: professor “Gojo”.
Gojo stood tall, dressed in clothes that didn’t stand out yet looked polished as they were well-suited to his proportions. He held an air of confidence, unwavering despite the many confused faces now looking him up and down. For a moment, Suguru wondered if they all were in the wrong classroom rather than Gojo.
“The professor originally assigned to teach this class had to take an unexpected leave of absence,” Gojo began, “and lucky enough, I was available.” He smiled at his small audience. Suguru was surprised at the implication of somebody who couldn’t be much older than him being allowed to teach such a high-level course. Those were the responsibility of tenured professors established in their field, and Gojo could not yet possibly have developed the depth of understanding necessary.
“The previous professor was kind enough to send me the original syllabus,” Gojo continued, “and I was able to adjust it a bit to include texts I find a bit more relevant.”
As Gojo took his time going through the new syllabus projected behind him, reality began to set in for Suguru. The syllabus had not been adjusted, it had been completely and utterly reworked. Some of the new authors listed in the curriculum were infamous for the difficulty in getting through their works due to a combination of ridiculously dense writing styles and complex subject matter, and had a reputation of being the favorites among the most pretentious of academics. His original professor greatly valued accessibility when selecting texts for the semester, feeling the same point can be made just as easily through much easier to understand books.
In addition, a myriad of new assignments were sprinkled through the semester - quizzes, papers, discussion boards - all things Suguru did not have the motivation for. He massaged his temples as he watched Gojo continue through the slides, pretending to be unaware of, or rather, simply not caring about the sighs and groans coming from the students.
Suguru could feel his hopes of a calm final semester go down the drain, all his rapport built with his original professor rendered meaningless and a mountain of assignments already plaguing his psyche.
—
Suguru felt no need to go out of his way to develop an academic relationship with the professor thrown into his schedule last-minute who he will probably never see again after graduating. He was very much content being the last to show up to lecture and the first to leave as he began to resent hearing such a joyful voice coming out of the man who was assigning Suguru such an offensive amount of work. Gojo did not need to waste more of Suguru’s time with pointless small-talk outside of lecture than he already was with the endless stream of homework.
He was confident he could do the assignments on his own easily enough - he had been studying the subject for four years now.
He was very confident - until he was failing.
The first paper Suguru got back did not receive the score he had wanted, and he figured he just wasn’t used to Gojo’s grading yet. Each professor had their quirks when it came to grading. He took note of all of the red marks left behind and revisions scribbled from page to page. Suguru wrote his next paper keeping them in mind and adjusted his writing, assured he had found what Gojo wanted from him.
The second paper started to worry him a bit. Why did it seem like every correction Gojo made on the first paper contradicted the ones he was now making on the second paper? Suguru was a little under the weather when he had written it, so he decided to chalk his bad grade to brain fog.
When he got his grade back for the third paper, however, Suguru was no longer sure he could pass the class on his own. The critiques were barely-comprehensible and left him right back at square one, hopeless and confused as to what he was doing wrong. In addition, when seeking shared misery from his classmates, he found out none of them were having issues - everyone else was at least passing. Suguru was completely lost on why he was the only person failing, after years of excelling in his courses.
With gritted teeth and hands gripping his papers covered in so much red ink they were nearly unrecognizable, Suguru made the very difficult decision to attend Gojo’s office hours and ask his professor face-to-face what he was doing so wrong. It was not too late to bring his grade up, and he was required to pass this class in order to graduate. Although Suguru felt it was a headache to use his free time engaging with a professor he was not fond of, or really even respected, it would be even more of a headache if he had to stay in school another semester.
He packed his bag with his desecrated papers and began his journey into enemy territory.
“Come in!” Yelled a cheerful voice as Suguru lightly knocked on the office door. He took a deep breath as he forced the grimace off his face and opened the door to greet his professor with the biggest smile he could manage. Gojo, lost in his work, had not looked up to notice the strain Suguru was putting on himself to appear charming. When he finally did look up, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second - “Geto, I’m surprised you’re making use of my office hours.” He went back to shuffling around papers, taking on an unimpressed gait.
Great. Disdain already. “Yes, apologies for not making time earlier,” Suguru began as he took a seat at Gojo’s desk. “I’ve been having a very busy semester. You know, preparing for graduation, applying for jobs, taking care of my family…” He trailed off, hoping his annoyance was well-concealed.
If Gojo noticed, he definitely didn’t seem to care. “So, to what do I owe this honor?”
Suguru pulled out the pile of papers from his bag and neatly laid them onto Gojo’s desk. “I wanted to talk about the grades I’ve been getting on these papers,” He explained, motioning to the first terribly-received essay. “At first, I thought the problem was you just didn’t like my writing style. So, I took careful note of all of your corrections and applied them to the second paper you assigned. However,” He moved to point to the next paper. “You graded that one even harsher. My roommate had given me his cold when I wrote it, so I figured I just wasn’t performing at my best.” Finally, Suguru tapped his finger on the third and final paper. “But after receiving the grade for this one, I am completely lost as to what is wrong with my writing.” He finished, eagerly awaiting an explanation.
Gojo, who had been writing all through Suguru’s spiel, finally paused and looked up. “Oh, that’s easy. I can tell you what’s wrong with it.”
Suguru sat up. “What is it?”
“It’s terrible. Your writing is just really awful,” The professor put simply. He went back to scribbling away.
Suguru balked.
His patience, already hanging on by a thread, had snapped like a twig. Gojo, the twisted man who thought it appropriate to torture his students a hair’s breadth away from graduating with hours upon hours of coursework, now had the audacity to call Suguru’s writing awful . Not only had he called it awful, but he declared it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he was saying the sky was blue.
“Are you crazy?” Suguru asked, forgetting all formalities.
“It’s all spelled out in the corrections I gave you,” Gojo chided. He picked up the first paper and quickly scanned it, then flipped it to face Suguru. “See, right here. The thesis of this paper is weak, and then made weaker by how few sources you have to back it up. It reads like you had a half-baked idea and couldn’t find enough references to back it up.”
Suguru’s eye twitched. “Yes, I saw you had left that note. But on the second paper, you critiqued me for using too many sources.”
“Well, there is such a thing as moderation,” Gojo patronized, leaning back into his chair.
“I used two more sources. That’s what you consider excess?”
Gojo cleared his throat and snatched the second paper from Suguru’s view. “Putting the content of your papers aside, the format itself is a complete mess.” He flicked the paper. “Like this - you used a size 13 font. Are you in middle school, is this your first time writing an essay?”
“I used a size 11 font for the first paper, and you left a critique that your eyes hurt from the strain it took to read something so small,” Suguru rebutted. His frustration was boiling over.
Gojo thought for a moment, then loudly sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “It seems like you’re more concerned with arguing than taking the time to improve your writing. If this is what you’ve done with your past professors, it’s no wonder your papers are stuck at such a juvenile level.”
Suguru did not say anything. He stared at his professor with a blank expression, who was unaware that Suguru was currently running through all the ways he could use Gojo’s desk supplies to enact his revenge. He could put a staple through his hand, shove a pencil up his nose, pour the sand from Gojo’s mini zen garden into his coffee.
After the calming mental exercise, Suguru gingerly took the paper out of Gojo’s hand and neatly arranged it with the others. He silently retrieved a folder out of his bag, and slipped his essays inside. After making sure his bag was securely zipped, Suguru stood up. “Have a good day,” he
said serenely, but the words sounded imbued with a curse rather than a will wish. He left the office as he came: hopeless.
Suguru was miserable. After his conversation with Gojo today, he had no hope that it was still possible to pass this class and graduate on time. He was stuck with this professor, it was much too far into the semester to switch classes.
He would come up with a plan later - he can always come up with a plan. But before he could think rationally, he needed to douse out the anger and frustration that was still coursing through his veins after being talked down to by Gojo. The ego he had just faced was like a shock to his system.
That’s how Suguru ended up where he always ends up when he needs to destress - at the seediest bar he knew. Drinks were dirt cheap, he could smoke inside, and the men here seemed to care an awful lot about what Suguru had to say.
The man currently gripping the inside of his thigh definitely had no idea what Suguru was talking about as he explained the subject of his last paper Gojo had graded so harshly. Despite this, the stranger nodded along, and sprinkled in “you’re so smart” and “your professor’s a dick” whenever he found the chance. The unconditional validation and free drinks eventually soothed Suguru’s nerves. Fingers had tiptoed their way towards Suguru’s crotch by the time he finished his rant, and so he decided it was time to stop getting the man’s hopes up and excused himself to the bathroom.
The dim lighting of the bar’s bathroom wasn’t enough to hide the grime and graffiti decorating it. Suguru found an empty stall and locked himself in, putting the toilet lid down to sit on top. He took a deep breath to expel the stresses of the day once and for all, and lit up a cigarette as he contemplated whether he was drunk & content enough to go home. He let his heavy eyes close as he savored finally feeling calm.
His deliberation was interrupted as he heard knocking on the stall wall to the left of him. He frowned, wondering if his stall neighbor was upset about the smoke. Deciding to ignore it, Suguru continued to puff away.
When the knocking came again, Suguru finally opened his eyes. He was prepared to give the person next to him a talking to, but as he turned towards the knocking, he found himself speechless.
Somehow, he hadn’t noticed it when he entered the stall. But to the left of him, with no room for interpretation, was a gloryhole.
It was no secret the bar was a popular cruising spot - it’s why Suguru comes when he needs attention. However, he had never gone all the way, as the free drinks and endless compliments left him satiated enough.
Suguru inspected the hole closer. Next to it were hastily scribbled instructions on how to use the gloryhole as discreetly and anonymously as possible. After knocking to initiate, the person on the other side should knock once for no, and twice for yes.
He continued staring, his mind running wild. He had just had an extremely long day, and was faced with the very real possibility of having to repeat his last semester of school. This would upend his entire plan for the near future; setting him back financially, throwing him into the job market later than expected, and leaving him to bear the brunt of his parents nagging. He waved the thoughts off, and returned to the present moment. Suguru had always been curious about anonymous sex. His core tightened at the idea. After the academic abuse he had suffered today, and the frustrating future it may lead to, didn’t he deserve a little pick-me-up?
Suguru threw his cigarette in the toilet water and brought up his hand. Before he could change his mind, he rapped on the wall twice.
For a few moments, nothing happened, and all Suguru could hear was the sound of his heart beating. The noise of a belt being undone and a zipper moving finally cut through the air and left the hairs on the back of Suguru’s neck standing up. He was still sitting on the toilet seat, eyes glued to the gloryhole.
When his stall neighbor’s cock slid through the hole, Suguru could not help but marvel at how pretty his dick was. Besides the impressive size, Suguru noted how his tip was perfectly swollen and pink, and licked his lips at the veins throbbing up and down the shaft. The gloryhole must be exciting him as much as it’s exciting Suguru, as precum already gathered at the tip, patiently waiting for attention.
Suguru slid off the toilet set and let his knees hit the dirty tile off the bathroom floor. He slowly scooted closer until his breath was gently rolling over the dick in front of him - the barely perceivable contact made the man on the other side of the hole slightly jerk back in shock. After recovering, he nestled further into the hole than he was before, clearly eager for attention.
His lips twitched, eager to taste, and he realized he didn’t have to feign hesitance or moral debate. It was just him and the cock in front of him, existing in this moment purely for pleasure.
Suguru began by gently nuzzling his face against the tip, letting precum drip onto his cheeks. He then rubbed the hollow of his cheeks up and down the shaft, the precum that leaked onto his face being smeared back onto its owner. He sighed in satisfaction as he nestled up against the cock, its warmth rousing him. Delighted hums rose from the other side of the wall.
Losing all patience, Suguru decided he needed a taste. He pressed his tongue flat against the slit, licking it up and down to lap up the continuous flow of precum that fell out. His companion was dripping wet, and he felt obliged to help clean up.
After savoring the taste of precum on his tongue, he wrapped his lips around the whole of the cock’s head and began circling it with his tongue while gently sucking. He smiled with the dick in his mouth as he heard the other man’s breathing get heavier, assumedly struggling from all of the teasing. It only motivated Suguru further, the knowledge that he had hardly done anything yet and was still causing the stranger to unravel. He continued playing with the tip without taking any more down his throat, and in turn the man started rutting against his lips, humping the hole like a dog in heat.
Finally, Suguru surrendered. He took the head out of his mouth completely before swallowing as much of the length as he could in one go. The man on the other side gasped and slammed his hand atop the stall wall, gripping it so tight his knuckles began turning white while Suguru bobbed his head up and down.
Suguru brought his eyes up to the hand holding on to the wall. He saw long pale fingers twitching along with his movements, telling Suguru exactly what he was doing right. He continued watching the hand as he slowed his pace to feel the stretch of his lips against the girth, dragging his tongue along the underside of the shaft with so much attention that he thought he might be able to create a map of where each vein was located.
Seeing the stranger’s reaction through the movement of his hand excited Suguru. It was entrancing to see another part of the man he was servicing, toeing the line of anonymity that this operation relied on. He didn’t need to know anything about the man besides how it felt to have his cock seated in his jaw, yet here he was, watching how his nails clawed into the plastic wall. To Suguru, it was praise - to Suguru, the man was saying, You suck my cock so well, I don’t care if you know who I am . Suguru was good. Suguru was competent.
The thought made Suguru moan around the length and he quickly brought a hand to his crotch to grope his own dick through his pants. He rocked his hips to the same steady rhythm he bobbed his head at.
It didn’t last long as his hand was soon kicked away by the stranger. Before Suguru had a chance to process or protest the loss of contact, his hand was replaced by the man’s shoe digging into his crotch. He gasped and let the dick fall out of his mouth to look down at himself - the man was grinding the heel of his shoe into the bulge of Suguru’s jeans, relentlessly pressing down. Suguru choked out a cry and spread his legs as far apart as he could to encourage the foot against his cock.
Suguru was somehow able to find the man’s cock with his mouth again despite his foggy state. His body moved on its on, fucking his own throat with the length in front of him, and hips stuttering up to chase the rough friction of the shoes abusing his dick through his pants. Tears gathered at the corner of Suguru’s eyes, and when they fell down his face they united with the saliva pooling out of his mouth.
He wouldn’t last much longer like this. He was blissed out, eyes unfocused as he approached an orgasm. His hips and mouth moved erratically, back and forth, so close, so close, his stomach tightening, as a voice rang out in front of him:
“I’m about to cum–”
And Suguru fell backwards, snapping into perfect clarity.
There was no way.
“C’mon, don’t edge me like that…”
It was impossible to mistake - it was the voice he had been hearing in his nightmares, the voice he heard lecture cheerily for hours on end after handing Suguru a failed assignment, the very same voice that had told him his writing was “awful”.
Suguru scrambled to his feet and fumbled with the stall lock. After swinging his stall door open, he frantically rapped on the door next to him. He wasn’t thinking, because this couldn’t actually be happening - there was just no way.
The door opened - “Suguru?”
He pushed his way into the stall and locked the door behind him.
“Don’t call me that. I hate you.”
Professor Gojo was standing in front of him, red-faced, bangs sticking to his forehead, dick in hand. He lazily stroked himself and smiled when he saw it was impossible for Suguru to keep his eyes off the motion. “You hate me?”
Suguru leaned against the door. “Yeah, I hate you. You’re hell bent on ruining my semester for absolutely no reason. You’re an asshole, and you can’t teach for shit.” He was aware his words came out with less bite due to the very visible boner straining against his pants.
Gojo smiled wider. “You know, if you could write a paper half as well as you could suck dick, you’d be top of the class.” Suguru’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Gojo collect a bead of precum and languidly wet his tip with it. “Is that why you’re failing, Suguru? Spend all your free time sucking off random men in shitty bars instead of studying?”
“And what about you? Are gloryholes the only way you can get laid without your awful personality cockblocking you?”
Gojo just laughed. “Yeah, that’s right, Suguru. Don’t you feel awful for me? Won’t you help me out?” He stepped closer, boxing Suguru in against the bathroom door. He let go of his dick, and hummed as its heavy weight fell onto the tent in Suguru’s pants. He lazily moved his hips to brush against his student’s clothed cock, the slight sensation making Suguru twitch. The feeling was barely-perceivable through his pants as Gojo gently bumped their cocks together, and it was driving him mad - Suguru found himself lifting his hips off against the bathroom door to meet Gojo’s thrusts with more pressure.
Bringing his eyes up from the crotches bumping together, Suguru found his professor’s eyes fixated on him. His pupils were blown out and he stared like he wanted to eat Suguru alive. The clench of his jaw and twitch of his smile indicated to Suguru that he was actually trying to resist the urge to. Gojo looked like he was barely holding it together, and Suguru could not tell which one of them was really in control.
Suguru conceded. He sunk down once again and let his knees kiss the dirty cold floor. “You know, if anyone found out about this, you’d lose your job.”
“I don’t care.” Gojo laced his fingers through Suguru’s hair and guided his mouth back onto his cock.
He slid his dick as far back as it would go until he was hitting the back of Suguru’s throat. Suguru looked up to make eye contact with his professor as his cock sat in place, his throat twitching and eyes glazing over as he struggled to breathe. Gojo smiled and pet Suguru’s head when he began spluttering on the dick filling his throat completely, silently encouraging him to take it a little longer. Finally, Gojo pulled out, laughing when Suguru coughed in between desperate gasps for air. His own drool coated his chin.
There was little time to recover as Gojo quickly returned to his mouth, fisting Suguru’s hair with both hands to set the pace to fuck his throat at. Like this, Suguru barely had to think - he just stared up and watched Gojo’s face twitch and chest heave as he used his throat like a toy. Pleasure coiled in his stomach the sorer his jaw got, letting out muffled moans when the stretch of his mouth was almost too much to bear.
Gojo pulled out and slapped his cock, wet with saliva and precum, against Suguru’s cheek.
Suguru smiled up at him and nuzzled against it. “Do y’wanna fuck me?” He slurred out.
“Of course,” Gojo cooed, stroking Suguru’s head, “but I don’t have a condom.”
Suguru shooed Gojo’s hand off of him and rose to his feet. He shrugged and turned to leave the bathroom stall, calling over his shoulder, “I’m sure I can find someone else out there who’d come inside me.” He flicked the stall lock and could barely stifle his laugh when he suddenly felt a death grip on his wrist.
One hand continued digging into his wrist while another snaked around his waist to grab at his belt. Agile fingers made quick work of his belt buckle and moved to the buttons of his pants, his zipper, whatever was inhibiting his dick from springing free.
“I was trying to be considerate towards my student,” Gojo said, releasing his grip to pull both Suguru’s pants and boxers down at once - neither commenting on the bright red marks left on the latter’s skin, “but maybe I should just do what I want.”
Suguru grinned to himself upon discovering how easy it was to rile Gojo up. During lectures, he spoke without an ounce of doubt, fielding every question a student asked like they were discussing what color the sky was. He had never so much as stuttered. Professor Gojo was the image of composure, and now he was behind Suguru, groping at every piece of him he could get his hands on like he’d die if he couldn’t touch him.
He leaned forward against the stall door as he felt a finger, lubed with spit and precum, circling his hole. Gojo slid it in easily, reaching down to fist Suguru’s hanging cock as he began to work him open. When Gojo added a second finger, Suguru’s hips started moving on their own to meet their thrust. A flurry of “more”s left his lips as he fucked himself on Gojo’s fingers, and Gojo complied with a third finger, stretching him open until he couldn’t think. His long fingers curled against Suguru’s prostate and reduced him to a mess as he struggled to stand, clawing at the stall door for purchase. The burn of the stretch did nothing to deter him, he was too fucked out to care.
“Can’t believe we haven’t been doing this all semester,” Gojo breathed out. “I should’ve been dragging you to the supplies closet after every lecture to split you open.”
Gojo removed his fingers from Suguru, whose hole clenched at the absence. He could barely stand on his shaking legs, his mind was sitting in a thick fog, and a sheen of sweat covered his entire body. Still, he found the willpower to look over his shoulder, still presenting his abused asshole to Gojo, and taunted with a wiry smile, “Who says I’d let you? Honestly, I’m a little bored right now.”
With a sadistic smile, Gojo responded by pressing his cock onto Suguru’s entrance. Hands came to grip his waist on either side, and without any delay, pulled Suguru onto his length.
A choked gasp was pushed out of Suguru. His jaw slackened as the rest of his body worked overtime to accommodate itself to the girth stretching him open. Gojo patiently sat inside of him, circling his thumbs over Suguru’s hips as he waited for a sign that Suguru wasn’t going to collapse onto the ground beneath him.
The sign came in the form of Suguru arching his back deeper, angling himself to allow for Gojo’s cock to reach further inside him, despite his shaking hands and legs. He was barely hanging onto the door anymore, just loosely draping himself against it, waiting to be used by Gojo - and Gojo complied.
Gojo drew his hips back, then slowly sunk back in. He continues at a slow pace, every thrust punctuated by a whine from Suguru underneath. Suguru’s mind was in complete disarray, jumping from sensation to sensation, unsure where to land - the stretch of his ass, the raw cockhead bullying his prostate, Gojo’s hands clawing into the skin of his hips, or his own dick hanging hard and heavy under him. He was in a mess of bliss.
“You should see yourself,” Gojo commented, rolling his hips to snap into Suguru. “It’s like you were made to take me. Just built to be stretched open.” Suguru answered in a jumble of moans, hardly hearing Gojo as he quickened his pace.
They continued like that - Gojo holding Suguru steady as the latter lost all sense and balance, fucked stupid - until Suguru heard the bathroom door open. He was quickly reminded where he was, and a hot rush of panic ran up his body. Using the gloryhole was one thing, but the thought of being caught is his currently compromising position was mortifying to Suguru.
He turned to tell Gojo to wait. Before he had a chance to get the words out, one hand was pulling his hair to bring his back flush against Gojo’s chest, and another was covering his mouth.
“You feel too good, I can’t stop,” his professor whispered into his ear. “Just be quiet for me, yeah?”
Suguru nodded and licked the palm pressed against his lips. Gojo removed his hand to instead stick his fingers into Suguru’s warm mouth, whose tongue eagerly welcomed the intruders. He suckled on them, nearly forgetting he was supposed to keep quiet when Gojo mumbled “Good boy.”
Gojo returned to his steady pace, fucking into Suguru like there wasn’t someone pissing in the urinal a few feet away from them. The clap of Suguru’s ass sang through the air on every thrust.
“I think you like this,” he heard in his ear. “I think you like letting everyone hear how good you are at getting fucked.” Gojo laughed at his own accusation. Suguru just whined against the fingers in his mouth, getting impatient as the unwelcomed bathroom guest took his time washing his hands.
Finally, the bathroom door opened and shut, a wave of chatter from the crowd outside briefly rolling in. Gojo immediately dropped his hand from Suguru’s mouth and returned his grip on his hips.
“Since you did such a good job staying quiet, you get a reward.” Gojo set a brutal pace, pulling Suguru onto his dick by the hips, filling him to the hilt. Suguru choked out a moan, falling forward with his face against the stall door. He could feel it in his stomach, Gojo’s cock was reaching new places. Just as he finds his balance, Gojo weaves one hand under him, and tugs at Suguru’s leaking dick. One, two, three strokes later and Suguru is seeing stars and painting the stall door in front of him white, cum pulsing out as Gojo works him through his orgasm, until he’s left dripping onto the floor.
Gojo’s thrusts start stuttering, and soon after he’s fucking his cum into Suguru, groaning as his own release wets his thrusts. He keeps moving in and out, every movement forcing his load to fall out of Suguru’s ass and drip down his legs.
Finally, Gojo pulls out. He sits Suguru onto the toilet to catch the rest of his cum and leans against the stall door, both parties gasping for air.
Suguru is so out of it, he almost doesn’t hear Gojo when he says through his panting:
“Your writing is the best in the class”.
Suguru snapped his head up. “What?”
“Your papers are the best, out of anyone else in that class, probably anyone I’ve taught before. You communicate yourself so effectively, it’s incredible-”
“What the fuck are you talking about? How am I failing if I’m the best in the class?” Suguru sneered from the toilet.
Gojo averted his eyes, his already-flushed face getting redder. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, you always leave so fast after class… so, I thought if I gave your papers a bad grade, you would visit me during office hours…” his voice trailed off. He looked like a shy schoolgirl.
Contrarily, Suguru was enraged. “Are you an idiot? I did come, and you just insulted me the whole time.”
“I was nervous…”
Oh my god. “Fix my grades, or I will tell your boss you came in me.” Suguru concluded.
“Ok!” Gojo cheered. “You’ll still come to my office hours though, right?”