bunny brain @bunnygojo - Tumblr Blog

DORKY GUYS FINISH FIRST!

gojo loves to treat you like a princess! there's only one little problem - you've never actually met him :\

synopsis: he's been your biggest supporter since you first started your career as a camgirl! so when he has the opportunity to meet you in-person instead of just through his screen? gojo will do (and spend) anything to make you his!

pairing: nerd!Gojo x camgirl!Reader

wc: 10.7k

content: mdni, SMUT!, camgirl, rich nepo baby gojo gifting you a dildo molded after his dick, masturbation, heavy yearning and pining, gojo is absolutely OBSESSED, kissing, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering + finger sucking, unprotected piv sex, mentions of birth control, cowgirl, creampie, loss of virginity, happy ending

a/n: this was a commission for @sadlittlecucumber !! gojo art is by @/to00fu + div by @/thecutestgrotto

blu3yedbigd1ck sent $XXX.XX

blu3yedbigd1ck: Use the blue one for me pretty?

You giggled. Giggled. And Gojo was pretty sure if he jerked off any harder, his dick was going to fall off. Some painfully tight thing throbbing in the pit of his stomach, aching as your delicate hand reached out and wrapped around the pale blue dildo – one he had ordered and shipped to the PO box you posted. Custom-made, of course, perfectly shaped and sized to match his, down to every vein and ridge.

“This one?” You tilted your head to the side, batting those beautiful lashes of yours as you teased him.

He groaned, balls tightening as he struggled not to cum from the sound of your voice alone, his other hand trembling as he typed on the keyboard.

blu3yedbigd1ck: Please baby

“Anything for my favorite fan,” you murmured, spreading your thighs further apart, showing him a full view of those pretty folds of yours while you guided his (fake) tip to the edge of your entrance. Slowly starting to slide it in, a lewd squelch ringing out as his grip on his self-control started to slip. “Toru.”

His breathing hitched, some deep strangled noise torn from his throat right as your face scrunched up in pleasure, bottom lip quivering as his length stretched you out. His name on your lips – one he asked you to call him once in private chats. The warmth coiling in his core had reached his face, cheeks flushing as if you could see him when he snapped. Pale fingers furiously stroking faster as he finished far before you were even close, ropes of sticky white cum about to shoot out when-

He woke up.

Just a wet dream. For the third time this week.

That was what he got for falling asleep to saved screen recordings of his favorite camgirl. Especially the one where you unboxed that special gift of his, beaming all pretty in 4K quality as you read the note he included in the box, thanking him by name.

He’d been watching your videos and livestreams for years now. Since you first started, back when you were only at twenty viewers and he occupied ninety percent of the chat. You were popular now, his messages now just a drop in a sea of men yearning after you or dropping lame lines like nice tits.

So, of course, when you opened up the options for VIP memberships – he signed up before you even mentioned the perks. He had more money than he could ever spend anyway, courtesy of the last name and ample banking accounts he was born with. The boring position he wasted his days at and the long meetings he sometimes snuck out of to watch more videos of you locked in a bathroom stall.

Not a single penny was wasted if he was spending it on you.

Buying pretty lacy lingerie for you to wear on your next stream. Sending in requests to see you in different positions or using different toys. Getting personal chats from you – sometimes even little recordings of your soft voice saying good morning.

Gojo probably replayed that one a hundred times getting ready, running his fingers through his hair to comb it and tossing on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of jeans from his floor after a fast shower, already running late to join Shoko and Suguru for their usual weekend brunch. Racing to make it there, sweat sticking to his arm pits by the time he pushed open the doors to some small hole-in-the-wall diner, the smell of bacon hitting him as he eyed a thick stack of pancakes on the closest table.

“Over here,” Shoko dryly called out, a flash of movement drawing his stare over to where she was sitting next to Suguru in a corner booth.

Gojo half-jogged to join them, mouth open and ready to offer an excuse before Suguru’s judgemental stare dragged over his sorry state.

“You’re late,” he commented. “Jerking off to her again?”

His friends didn’t understand.

Didn’t think that it was actually you, at least, messaging him.

Shoko called him a creep for having a crush on some stranger he’d only seen through a screen. Suguru, though? He was a bit more…creative.

“No,” Gojo defensively said, blushing hard as he slid in the booth across from them.

“Sorry, were you speaking to your AI girlfriend?” He deadpanned, cocking his head to the side. Goji heard it all before, most commonly when they went to the gym together to work out – which he admittedly only started doing when he started privately messaging you.

“She’s not-” Gojo huffed. “I-I-”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, not really believing him either as he stammered out weak protests.

You were real.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, his entire face lighting up as he read the chat. He’d changed your contact to something more intimate, even though logically, he knew it was probably cringy and Suguru would be sure to tell him as much if he ever saw it.

princess <3: toruuuuuuu

princess <3: how are you today?

His fingers were hurrying to type a reply, clumsily hitting letters just to have to furiously erase and fix his typos before he hit send.

blu3yedbigd1ck: Dreamed about you last night.

Suguru reached across the table and snatched his phone, dark brows furrowing as he scanned over the messages before his nose scrunched up in disgust.

“God, dude, could you not have picked something less creepy?” He groaned, tossing it back to him like he might have to pour bleach in his eyes out if he read any more. “You might as well have told her you jerked-”

Buzz. Buzz.

You already replied.

He was ignoring the rest of Suguru’s lecture, looking down at his lit-up screen to see your flirty replies back.

princess <3: oh yeah?

princess <3: what position?

His dick was getting hard again.

Straining inside his underwear as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. Trying to hide the fact he was about to be sporting a bulge as he stared dumbly at your little contact photo, unable to convince his own thumb to move to type.

But then bubbles popped up, and you were sending a third message.

princess <3: i was actually thinking about u too

That meant something, right? It had to.

“He's not even fucking listening,” Suguru complained, and Shoko was saying something back, pulling out cigarettes from her purse with a sigh, but he couldn't bother to look up.

Glued to the rectangle in his hands as a picture popped up in the chat.

There was nothing lewd about it, a perfectly innocent photo of you smiling in a pretty blue sweatshirt – and it somehow made it so much more intimate.

Blushing as you sent something else, trying to suppress his stuttering and swelling heart as it pounded inside his chest.

princess <3: your favorite color?

blu3yedbigd1ck: My favorite everything.

“Can you pay attention for like, two minutes?” Suguru groaned, and Gojo had to shove his phone back in his pocket, palms sweaty as he tried to focus on his best friend. Suguru was sighing, nodding towards the waitress walking over.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping his hands off on his jeans before glancing over his menu.

But even half a plate of pancakes later, sipping on soda while Suguru talked about his problems with women – ones with warm bodies that had actually been in his bed – he was barely listening at all. Just nodding along, readjusting his glasses up the bridge of his nose and licking the syrup off his fingers. Shoko had stepped outside, her outline visible through the window as she leaned against the wall, the last of a cigarette dangling from her lips as small puffs of smoke floated past.

“You know,” Suguru sighed, dragging Gojo’s back from his daydream about being at a place like this on a date with you. What would you order? Would you sit across from him? Slide into the booth next to him and lean your head on his shoulder?

“Huh?” Gojo blinked, gripping his fork a little too tight.

“I was just saying I could probably hook you up with someone,” he said, thick fingers wrapping around the handle of his coffee mug, one brow arched as he tried to assess Gojo’s reaction.

“Nah,” Gojo shrugged, the idea of going out with any girl that wasn't you making his skin crawl underneath his shirt. “Not interested.”

Suguru’s jaw clenched, ready to call him a moron when Shoko strolled back in, easily reading the situation.

“He said no?” She asked, as if she'd been expecting it.

“I mean, I just don't really have time for a relationship right now, y’know-” Gojo started bluffing, trying to make it sound casual.

“You're too busy talking to a girl who probably uses a chat bot to talk to twenty other guys online,” Suguru sarcastically finished for him.

“She's not like that,” he protested, an ugly feeling stirring up in his stomach.

“You pay her to talk to you,” Suguru reminded him, and even though he was right, it still stung. “Wouldn't you rather be with a girl who likes you for you?”

How was he supposed to explain that he didn't care if you only wanted him for his wallet?

Gojo only wanted you.

But Suguru’s question stuck in his head. Stayed there for the rest of the day, going back home to stare at his chats with you, all the ones where you listened to him rant and ramble about his favorite games and shows, asking questions and exchanging interests. Looking back through the photos you sent him and the few he scrounged up the courage to send back. It was never his whole face, just part of his eyes or his hands. Most of the pictures he sent were of his meals, desserts he made or bought from his favorite sweets shop.

Did you think he was annoying?

Just a loser in love with you?

He turned his phone off, tossing it on his nightstand next to the tissues and lube as he collapsed on his bed, pulling the pillow down over his face as he groaned into it. Even when his eyes were shut, he still saw you behind them.

And the moment his phone started ringing with the specific notification he set to know you were streaming, he was sitting back up, scrambling to grab his laptop and switch to the tab always reserved for you.

It was funny how fast he forgot about everything else the second he saw your pretty face blinking back at him. Sitting up straight in a computer chair this time, no longer in that soft blue sweatshirt and instead in a barely-there nightgown that didn't leave much to the imagination as you greeted people joining the chat.

blu3yedbigd1ck: Hi beautiful

He hesitated, before adding a definitely absurd number of heart emojis he hoped would catch your attention.

“Hi there,” you hummed, face lighting up – and he held onto the hope it was directed towards him. “I have a little announcement to make today.”

You twirled a loose strand of hair around a finger, looking into the camera like you could see him through it.

“In honor of my latest milestone,” you started, smiling so pretty it was practically blinding. Struck with cupid’s arrow as he stared hopelessly at his screen, spit pooling in the back of his mouth and hanging onto your every word. “I wanted to host a very special celebration stream.”

The chat was already going crazy. Message after message being spammed, people sending in requests, emojis, compliments and complaints before you even announced what it’d be. Your eyes flickered over to where the chat was, reading the messages like you were waiting for one.

His fingers were already flying across his keyboard.

blu3yedbigd1ck: You know I’ll be there.

It was probably his imagination, but your face relaxed more, features brightening as you tilted your head to the side.

“One of my lucky top three spenders will get invited at the end of the month to join me on stream,” you softly said, and his brain stopped working.

Your words jumbled up and echoing in his head, pulled apart and pieced back together as he struggled to make sense of it.

Join you? Like, actually, meeting you? And if it was on stream, did you mean-

“Our winner will get to pick whatever they want to do with me,” you winked, before starting to rattle off a few rules and regulations you were obligated to – mentioning that you'd cover the costs of the plane ticket but that they'd have to pass a background check, blah blah blah – but Gojo was still stuck on that first sentence.

Anything he wanted?

Would you really take his virginity? Let him fuck you into those pretty pink sheets of yours until it was stained with your tears and his cum?

(Even if he was probably the one that would end up crying?)

You didn't say it was a competition.

But it immediately came apparent it was one after the donations started flooding in. People desperate to make you theirs. Losers like him itching to feel you for themselves.

Gojo had to fucking win.

He had watched almost every stream of yours. Even ones where you worked with other cam girls or guys, but he didn't know if he'd be able to stand his own jealousy if he wasn't on top.

Or the one underneath you for this.

The other assholes in your chat wouldn't appreciate you as much as he would. Wouldn't worship your body how he would. Adore every little twitch and tremble they earned.

Gojo was fumbling to grab his wallet off his nightstand, flipping through to find his credit card with the highest limit. His fingers were shaking as he typed in the information, barely listening to you talk about how you would donate a portion of the proceeds to some charity, just clicking away before sending an exorbitant sum your way.

A flicker of pride shot through him at how wide your eyes went when you saw it, suddenly stammering as your breath hitched in your throat.

“To-” You stopped yourself, catching the nickname before it could slip off your tongue. “You guys don't have to donate that much, I’m-”

He sent another one just to see the way your lips pressed together as you shut up.

Other people were sending in donations too, but it wasn’t like they could match his. Could measure up to him.

Although some of them tried, a few annoying contenders attempting to catch up when you shifted back to your more normal streaming mode, switching to a different camera and getting settled on your bed. A toy between your thighs, one that sucked softly on your clit as you threw your head back and filled his room with sounds of your breathy moans.

But his eyes were skimming over the chat, scared that his spot as top donator would be replaced. Honestly, it was the first time in fucking forever that he didn’t have his hand down his pants when watching you, too stressed that he might lose an opportunity he didn’t know if he’d ever get again.

He was fucking sweating, white strands of hair sticking to his forehead while he listened to you whine, prettily panting as he squinted at someone complaining that he was probably someone spending his daddy’s money to win.

Which okay, wasn’t totally untrue.

But they’d do the same if they were him.

He’d do anything to be with you.

Even if Suguru thought he was a moron. Even if you were only interested in him for money. Even if the most he’d ever realistically get with you was one night – and that was if he was lucky.

But luck was one of the few things he did have.

Fortune favored him – and after a few weeks of sending in donations every time he thought someone else might manage to usurp him, despite your private messages pleading with him that he really didn’t need to, that he was already in the lead, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Satoru,” you said his name like you were scolding him. “I told you-”

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” He changed the subject, listening to your little huff on the other end of the phone call you asked him for. Another little perk of his VIP membership. Sometimes, he sort of felt more like a sugar daddy, although he didn’t think the kind of guys that did that were usually twenty-something virgins who had never actually experienced the touch of a woman.

“Well, no,” you sighed, and he was already picturing what face you might be making. Were you pouting? Pushing out your bottom lip? Were your brows kitted together?

What kind of faces did you make when no one was around to see them?

“You can order yourself something,” he muttered. There was a brief pause, and he just knew you were still fighting to find something to argue with him with.

Did you not want him to win?

“I just don’t want you to not be able to eat,” you eventually said.

It took him a few seconds to process what you were saying.

That you, of all people, were concerned about him.

That was what Suguru didn’t understand. He didn’t know you. Didn’t get that you weren’t solely selfish or greedy. You cared.

“Sweetheart,” he lightly chuckled, heart soaring. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, voice lilting like it never did in your streams. It wasn’t practiced or put-together. This version of you, one he couldn’t even see, was somehow more real when it was raw like this. “You’re already like, way ahead of everyone else, y’know, I just-”

“I want to take care of you,” he quietly interrupted, awkward and nervous as he barely managed to not stutter.

Gojo meant it.

And he’d make sure you’d see it. Sooner or later. Still making sure his username stayed at the top in every stream until the end of the month crept closer and closer. Until he was anxiously tapping his foot on the floor of his bedroom, cock aching in his boxers as the moonlight drifted in through his window while he watched the strap of your lingerie slip off your shoulder.

He held his breath, heart thrumming loudly inside his chest as he waited for you to say it. Hoping for you and hating himself at the same time for being so pathetically attached to someone so out of his league.

“I’m going to message our winner of our little contest privately once the stream’s over,” you said, a gleam in your eyes he imagined was only for him as you addressed the audience.

He was pretty sure the seconds stretched out into hours once his screen went dark after you ended it. Staring down at his phone and choking on his own spit, desperately willing for a new message to pop up.

One did, but it was from Suguru, asking if he was busy.

Suguru: Can I drop by? I’m like five minutes from you

Gojo grimaced, ready to throw his phone on the bed, replaying what you’d first mentioned when you announced it. You just said one of the top three spenders, didn't you? So what if the guy in second place got it? Or even third?

Fuck, he should’ve paid more attention, shouldn’t he?

Now there was no fucking chance-

princess <3: soooo are you doing anything on the 30th?

He almost screamed. Or squealed. Or whatever the most manly version of crying in relief was, all the tension in his body suddenly snapping like a rubber band as he read and reread your message.

Gojo won. He won.

blu3yedbigd1ck: Just tell me the time and place and you know I’ll come.

And cum.

He paused, thumb hovering over his screen as he practically hyperventilated, freaking out inside and thankful you couldn’t see his face right now as he stood up just to pace. Did he sound suave? At least a little cool and collected?

princess <3: promise?

princess <3: send me your information?

He still couldn’t believe this was fucking real. That it was really happening to him. He still hesitated to type it out – wondering what you would do once you had his name. What would a background check reveal?

That he was a dork who rarely left his apartment outside of his responsibilities or the occasional hangout with his only two real friends? That he collected Digimon figurines?

He sent everything over with a fear that you’d find something out that would make you change your mind. Maybe you’d think he was just a loser riding on his family’s name like most other people did.

Or you-

Someone knocked on his door hard enough he froze and hit send on accident. His message with his full name in it immediately marked as seen, his cheeks heating up as he forced himself to look up as the pounding outside continued.

“Hey, put your dick up and answer the door,” Suguru called out.

Gojo grabbed his pajamas from where he’d left them on the floor earlier, hurrying to pull them up his legs before groaning at the realization it didn’t have any pockets. You hadn’t replied yet, but he couldn’t bring himself to just leave his phone on his bed, gripping it tightly in his palm as he hurried to go see what Suguru wanted.

His best friend was waiting outside the door for him, leaning against the frame and holding out a bag with to-go boxes.

“Hey,” he greeted, praying Suguru wouldn’t notice or comment on the bulge he was still sporting.

“Am I interrupting something?” Suguru muttered, one pierced brow arching up suspiciously as he still noted how pink his face was.

“Nah, just, um, watching stuff,” Gojo lied, like Suguru wouldn’t be able to see through him. As if in the ten years they’d known each other, he hadn’t figured out what face he made when he was hiding something.

“Me n’ Shoko are worried about you, dude,” Suguru sighed, holding out the bag for him to take before running his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “You never want to go out or do anything anymore.”

He had a point.

Gojo was getting addicted to you.

He wanted to tell Suguru that he was better than okay, that he was about to go out and actually do someone for the first time in his life. But he also knew what Suguru would have to say to that.

Suguru would tell him precisely what an awful idea he thought it was – scold him and say he was getting scammed.

So instead, all he did was grin, clapping his hand on Suguru’s shoulder and shrugging.

“Don’t worry, man,” he chuckled. “I actually just made some plans to go on a little vacation soon.”

He just left out that it was to see you.

It took a few days to sort out – you wanted to buy him plane tickets and book his hotel for him. But when you mentioned that he was closer than you expected, sending an address that was only a couple hours away, he said he’d handle it.

Why bother taking a plane when he could just drive there?

Be able to actually drive you around in his own car once he got to your city, y’know, if you were interested. Besides, he could always pay for his own accommodations – make whatever arrangements he needed without feeling like he was being a burden to you.

You protested, but Gojo won in the end.

He always did.

And on the 30th, he was waiting outside your door, one hand clutching a bouquet he spent thirty minutes struggling to pick out in the closest floral shop, and the other hesitating to actually knock.

He tried to hype himself up.

There were two condoms in his wallet, two gift bags hooked over his elbow, one stuffed full of lingerie in shades of white and blue. The second was something a bit more personal, in a much smaller bag. A gift he wasn't sure you'd even want, half-convinced you would just toss it in the trash once it was all over.

Gojo almost lifted his hand back to finally do it, to tap on the thick wood, but then he started agonizing about what to say when you answered.

‘Hey, it's the guy who pays your rent every month?’

God, no, that made him sound like an asshole. Desperate. Which, yeah, he was the latter, but he didn't want you to think that.

Should he try to act more like Suguru? Girls liked him. Could he pull off the whole quiet and contemplative thing?

The door opened before he could keep deliberating.

You were somehow prettier in person.

Standing there in a cute little dress that was practically sheer, a loose cardigan hanging over your frame that didn't conceal the way the slip clung to you underneath it. He recognized it almost immediately as one he purchased for you, his favorite color even better when it was on your skin.

“Hi,” you half-whispered, and he could almost convince himself you were looking forward to meeting him too.

“Hi,” he breathed back.

Way to go.

“Do, um, do you wanna come inside?”

“Yes,” he bluntly answered, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed, laughing a little as you opened the door wider. He was pretty sure his face had to be red, his filthy mind jumping to both meanings as he tried to get his feet to move and take him past the threshold.

He was staring at you, and you were staring at him.

Your soft eyes searching over him, studying him with an expression he wished he understood better. Dragging over his tall frame before returning to his face, like you couldn’t wrap your brain about it being him.

“It’s kinda silly, but I feel like I already know you. Can I still call you Toru?” You slowly asked, and he was finding it hard to stop himself from bouncing in place at how your voice washed over him. Syrupy, almost sugary, getting stuck on each syllable. “Or do you prefer Satoru?”

“You can call me anything you want,” he said before he could stop himself, hating how much of a fool he already felt like in front of you. Stiffly holding out the flowers for you to take, which you also took longer to accept.

“Thank you,” you smiled, stepping aside so that he could come in. He only managed to step forward when your stare shifted down to the bouquet. He hoped he got it right. Hoped he picked your favorites, and too sheepish to ask.

It wasn’t that he was timid, because he wasn’t, really. Just flickered from overconfident to sure he was being stupid.

“I don’t even think I have a vase,” you laughed a little, like you were trying to ease the tension simmering between you.

Was it just the awkwardness hanging there? Or something else?

“Do you want me to go get you one?” Gojo genuinely offered, wondering if he did something wrong already but you shook your head.

“I’ll figure something out,” you insisted, your free fingers reaching out to brush against his arm – and suddenly he was wishing he hadn’t worn a long-sleeved shirt. “Don’t leave.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice.

He'd go where you want. Do what you want.

Gojo couldn't stop staring at you, fantasizing with you in front of him over this domestic feeling in this chest. The casualness in your steps, padding barefoot over to the joint kitchen area attached to your living room. You started rummaging through cabinets, grabbing an empty glass pitcher and filling it up with water from the sink before stuffing the flowers inside.

“They're pretty,” you complimented, leaning over to sniff the delicate petals.

“Not nearly as pretty as you,” he replied, and you made a sound he had never heard before. A squeak? A squeal?

Something small and light and twinkling and so goddamn cute he stopped breathing for four full seconds.

“I can’t believe you’re actually real,” you exhaled, chest rising and falling just as fast as his was.

He blinked, struggling to figure out what that meant.

You saw his reaction, lips twitching up in a sweet smile like it was a good thing.

“I was kind of scared to get my hopes up,” you confessed, and Gojo felt a cold shard of fear being driven into his heart. Did he disappoint you or-? “But you’re way hotter than me.”

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” he half-whined, his hand reaching up to hide his mouth under his large palm. As if you wouldn’t be able to see the blush creeping up on his cheeks.

He never thought he was unattractive. But he was awkward, uncomfortable when it came to actually going on dates or at the idea of an actual relationship with a girl. He talked too loud, too fast, was the kind of know-it-all most people called annoying.

Maybe you liked his face, but he was really just paying you to tolerate his personality.

“Why not?” You giggled again, moving the flowers before walking back over to him. Tenderly grabbing his fingers before guiding his hand down like you wanted to look at him. Pinching his chin between your smaller fingers, tilting his head from side-to-side like you were appraising him.

Gojo could smell your perfume from here, and he was pretty sure his eyes actually rolled back in his head. It was intoxicating. You smelled like candy, but he bet you tasted even sweeter.

Completely frozen, stuck there as he stared down at you, blue eyes bulging as they zeroed in on the gorgeous little gleam in yours. Your manicured nails digging into his skin, not enough to cut, but to apply enough pressure to keep him still.

“It’s kinda hard to believe a guy like you is actually interested in me,” you freely admitted. Before your brows scrunched and you corrected yourself, “My streams.”

“A guy like me?” He asked, and you swallowed hard this time, avoiding your stare.

“You know what I mean,” you murmured. He didn’t.

“Tell me anyway?” He tried to tease, mouth twitching up in a smirk he hoped was charming.

“Fishing for compliments?” You grinned back, letting go of his chin to briefly cup his cheeks, patting it a little before you turned away.

But your eyes flickered back to the bags he was still holding, like you were silently trying to ask what they were.

He sat both down on the closest piece of furniture, an armchair that looked like it was barely used.

“Are those for the stream or-”

“Just for you,” he answered, and he was pretty sure he’d be chasing the feeling flooding his chest watching you beam back at him.

“Can I open it now or is it for later?” You followed it up, pulling off your cardigan and throwing it over the back of the chair.

It was just your shoulders, more of your arms, but it made him feel like he was seeing something holy, like he should be on his knees worshipping you or taking photos as if you were some piece of art he’d been admiring for so long from afar.

“Whenever,” he shrugged.

Was he being off-putting?

For a guy who always talked too much, who could never get himself to shut up, he suddenly seemed unable to come up with anything to say when all his words got choked up in his throat.

“I guess I’ll save it then,” you muttered, even though you looked like you were itching to open them now. It was better this way, though, he was barely functioning as it was. He wasn't sure his brain would still work if you offered to put on a fashion show for him in the new lingerie he bought you.

“O-okay,” he stammered, already flustered simply at the thought.

“So, um,” you paused, briefly biting your lips before jutting your thumb behind you. “Do you want to see my room?”

He dumbly nodded, feeling like a fucking moron making this more awkward as he trailed after you down the hall. You tried to fill the silence, casually asking questions he dutifully answered, his eyes constantly drifting back to you despite how interested he was in every part of your life he hadn't been privy to before as you pushed open your bedroom door.

It was weird viewing it from this new angle. Able to note new things he’d never gotten a glimpse at. It made him feel special, as if he was sharing this secret with you – although an annoyingly logical part of his brain wanted to suggest you film from a proper set instead of the intimacy of your actual bed.

“I cleaned up before you came,” you hummed in front of him, sitting in the spinning chair by your desk, turning on your computer and starting to adjust the settings for the stream.

“You didn't have to do anything for me,” he quietly said, toning himself down into something he hoped was more appealing to you as he examined the little trinkets on your desks. Stuffed animals you kept out-of-sight on stream.

“I'm, uh, also on birth control, so as long as you're clean, you don't have to wear a condom,” you added, a hint of anxiety bleeding through, as if you were seeking his approval.

“Um, I'm, uh, clean,” he said, turning away so you didn’t notice that he was hard just from the idea of sex with you.

“Satoru,” you spoke his name like it was something precious. Pronouncing the syllables like you were really his friend. “Are you nervous?”

“Is it that obvious?” He chuckled, reluctantly looking back at you to meet your sympathetic stare. “I just, I’ve never…”

Gojo couldn't finish, couldn't stand to tell you he was a virgin.

“Been on camera before?” You asked, innocently tilting your head, coming to the wrong conclusion. “It's okay, if you don't want-”

“I've never wanted anything as much as I want this,” he bluntly interrupted. “You.”

“Oh,” you half-whispered, hiding a smile by looking down before you gestured to your streaming setup. “Guess we should get started then?”

He watched practically in awe at how you turned it on the second the stream was running, chirping as you greeted everyone in chat, taking a minute or two to make sure most of your audience was there before waving him over and introducing him as the winner.

That's what he was, right? He had done it. Made it here. About to lose it all to you – in the same bed he'd been dreaming about doing it for so goddamn long.

Your hands slid up his arm, squeezing his bicep as you pulled him close.

“Our special guest has never been on camera before, so you guys better be nice,” you warned, pouting in frame as you leaned your head against him. “It's his show tonight.”

Whatever he wanted went.

You looked up at him before you switched over to the bed, guiding him there. A tripod was set up, ready to capture every dirty detail and broadcast them. Two fingers poked his chest, getting him to sit on the edge, before you giggled and pushed him back further.

And suddenly you were straddling him, your soft thighs on top of him, your weight shifting and readjusting as you wrapped your wrists around his neck, playing with his soft undercut.

He was fucking terrified to touch you. Scared that it would shatter the moment and he’d realize this was just an illusion, another dream he’d wake up from.

But then you sighed, going to grab one of his hands, guiding it towards your waist, wrinkling that pretty slip of yours as you tilted your head so sweetly. Blinking at him with disbelief that mirrored his own, before you were whispering under your breath, “Hold me.”

“Bu-” He didn’t get more than a single syllable out.

“I want you to,” you murmured, pushing your bottom lip out in another pout.

His heart swelled, and before he could stop himself, he was leaning up to kiss you. Lips crashing together in an admittedly clumsy connection, too aware of the camera currently focused on both of you to direct all of his own focus solely on you. But then your tongue was suddenly in his mouth, tracing over his teeth, and he was pretty sure his mind melted.

All his other kisses were drunk ones at parties Suguru and Shoko dragged him to, sloppy and messy, but this was different. You were different.

It felt fucking magical. The softness of your lips, the taste of mint on your mouth, like you had brushed your teeth before he came over. Sucking on his lower lip, a warm buzz spreading inside his chest at how right this was. One of his hands caressed your cheek, his thumb dragging over your soft skin while his other fingers sank deeper into your waist.

Trying to pull you closer, forgetting about how this was being filmed in favor of kissing you harder.

Gojo didn't want it to end.

He could feel his cock starting to grow, throbbing and aching already underneath the heat of your body, the weight of you on top of him.

God, he was glad he started lifting fucking weights over the last year – because it was easy to lift you up.

He flipped the positions, hearing all the air get knocked out of you when your back hit the bed. Hair splayed out underneath you, lips parted in surprise as you looked up at him.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, not scared or nervous, teasing him as you propped yourself up on your elbows, like you wanted another kiss.

Gojo couldn't help but oblige, leaning down to press his mouth to yours again while your words repeated in his ears.

How many nights had he spent asking himself that question? Debating over what he’d do if he ever found himself here?

Take out that custom dildo and take you both ways? Press your thighs to your chest in some mean mating press? Do it doggy style?

“Come on, baby,” you purred, sifting your fingers through his hair as you peppered his face with more kisses. “Tell me what you want.”

All he could think of right now was how much he was dying to taste you.

“I wanna eat you out,” he confessed, coming out hoarser than he intended, his voice just as raw as his heart felt, throat constricting at the idea of you on his tongue.

He pushed you higher up on the bed so he wouldn't have to be on his knees on the ground, spreading your thighs apart with those huge hands of his. Forcing himself to take it slow, palms traveling over your skin in time with his lips. Kiss after kiss, admiring each pretty inch of you before he was face-to-face with the thin lace thong hardly keeping anything covered.

Gojo ripped it off like it was nothing, dropping the little fabric to the floor while you let out a small surprised gasp.

He bought it – so why couldn't he break it too?

The camera hadn't captured precisely how pretty your pussy was in person. Already wet for him, glistening and goading him into doing something about it.

“You're soaked,” he commented, swallowing the spit pooling in the back of his mouth as his eyes drifted up to you.

You made a noise, almost like a whine, shifting your hips and arching them up as you pushed your bottom lip out. “Yeah?”

Gojo wasn't always great with social clues, but he saw it for what it was. An invitation.

One he was more than happy to accept.

Diving in to deliver messy kisses, mouth open as his tongue dragged inside of you – copying the same methods he’d spent the past six months studying in porn scenes, desperate to make you cry out his name.

Until you forgot about the cameras too, so lost in his tongue and his hands that you couldn't remember your own name. Or that he was simply a loser with too much money to spend.

Because if he was just some guy you met on the street, would you ever really let him do this?

Let him wrap his mouth around your cute clit, sucking on it and swirling his tongue over it, painting his own name with his tongue while you twitched? Let him slot two thick fingers inside your dripping cunt, scissoring you open with steady strokes?

He counted them out, tested out what spots you seemed to like the most and made a mental note of them for later. Even if Gojo was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to think of anything once his cock was actually inside of you.

He was already painfully hard, dick throbbing and pulsing for relief as he rutted into your mattress mindlessly. It creaked under your combined weight, but your own moans were louder. Pitchy and airy, filling the room as you tugged harder on his roots. Keeping him close, refusing to let him stray from the task.

He groaned into your sensitive bundle of nerves as your nails raked over his scalp, the vibrations making you whine right there with him. His fingers crooked, curling just enough to have your back arching up, hips trying to work them in even deeper as you chased your climax.

Your thighs closed around his head, holding him hostage there, but honestly? He didn’t mind.

Gojo would live here if he could. Breathe you in and sustain himself with this alone.

He dragged his tongue back over your clit, and you made a sound that almost made him cum. Maybe that was just a habit though, years of training himself to finish when you did, the noise immediately registering as your resolve crumbling and giving into the urge to cum just from his mouth and a couple fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, y-you-”

You sounded desperate, and Gojo decided he'd never heard anything hotter than that. The cute little stuttering, the raw mantra while his tongue tugged you closer to overstimulation, still working on that pretty bud until you pried him back with another pull of his hair.

“You said whatever I want,” he reminded you with a pout that matched yours.

After a stunned pause, you relented though, eyes wavering and wide as you reluctantly started laying back down, but Gojo just chuckled, climbing back on top of you fully, tempted to tear your dress off too so he could feel your skin.

Kissing your mouth again, knowing you could taste yourself on his tongue when he slowly slipped it between your open lips.

Gojo could barely bring himself to part from you, his warm breath on your skin, his nose nudging against yours.

“What do you want to do with me?” He returned the question, holding out the reins for you to take.

Because more than anything, he wanted to make you happy.

You giggled, grinning up at him as your fingers traced over his side, slipping underneath his shirt.

“Take your clothes off,” you instructed.

He listened better than any dog did. Standing up to strip quickly, proudly showing off the muscles he only bothered growing for you, wondering if the lamps in your room lit them well for the cameras.

Your eyes raked over him with appreciation that made his pride flare even more, his fingers fumbling to unzip his jeans and drop them to the floor. You were sitting up now, still breathing a little hard from cumming before. Eyes going wide the second you saw his bulge in his boxers, the damp spot against the thin white fabric from where pre-cum was already leaking.

“Fuck, you’re-” You didn't let yourself finish, voice dying out as his boxers hit the floor next.

Big? Huge? Pretty?

He hoped it was one of the above. Gojo had probably spent too long online browsing the average size of penises, but he was pretty sure his should exceed expectations.

It wasn't as thick as some he'd seen in porn, but it was long, at least. Besides, he'd seen you satisfy himself with the fake one he sent you enough times so shouldn't the real one be even better?

“Like it?” He asked, hope plaguing his tone. Really trying to ask if you liked him.

“Mhm,” you nodded, soft and low as you skimmed your hands over his thick thighs. “Get on your back.”

You wanted to trade spots again.

He was trying to focus, to stop himself from saying or doing anything stupid or giving away just how inexperienced he was when he laid flat on your bed. Pre-cum smeared over his pink tip, throbbing at the open air, glancing over at the camera, seeing the chat flying by on the screen behind you before you were positioning yourself just over his cock.

You didn't look.

Your eyes were only on him. As if the rest of the world didn't exist. Didn't matter anymore.

His hands were shaking a little as he reached for your slip, and you helped him pull it off over your head. Breasts bouncing, your body so much fucking better when he actually got to experience it, to feel your skin under his palms as he ran them over your waist.

There wasn't nearly enough time for him to feel all of you. Torn between making frantic attempts at cataloging you and making the most of the moment while he had it, but you seemed to sense what was brewing inside of him.

Knew how to shut up the voices inside his head.

Your hips sank down, one of your hands resting on his chest to steady yourself before you started taking him in. His tip catching at your entrance at first, but then you readjusted again, wet enough that you didn't need lube for him to nudge inside and-

He shattered.

Sanity splitting into a million tiny little pieces the second he felt your warmth wrapping around him, the tight rubber band of desire inside him threatening to not just snap, but dissolve into straight bliss as you took him in a single rough thrust. Going from nothing to everything all at once, your walls sucking him in.

Nothing could compare to you.

All those times he fucked his fist suddenly seemed futile. Just a pale mockery of what the real thing was like, groaning loudly and throwing his head back as his fingers dug into your hip. He tried to mind his strength, stop himself from bruising you, but he could barely control the guttural sounds coming from the back of his throat.

“Isn’t he cute?” You asked, and his eyes were scrunched too tight to see what face he was making, even if he was sure you were finally acknowledging the rest of your audience. He rolled his hips up, feeling his tip nudge and grind against what he guessed was your cervix, that sweet little spongy spot that had you gasping. He finally cracked his eyes open, thick lashes fluttering at the sight of your gorgeous body grinding down on him. Your nails ran over his chest, tapping over his heart. “My pretty boy.”

If tonight was about him, then maybe you wouldn’t mind him asking you to call him that again.

“Promise?” He asked, his voice wavering and thick as his brain continued to short-circuit.

“Pinky swear,” you smiled, a cute crinkle next to where your makeup was beginning to run. Your usual waterproof mascara had been traded in for something that smeared, like you wanted him to see what a mess he made you.

Gojo grinded up, getting a little more comfortable, holding onto you like you were his last tether to reality, even if it still seemed fake. At his fingers dimpling your flesh, you whined, pushing down until he was completely buried inside you, the muscles in your thighs probably aching from how spread they were.

His cock practically jumped inside you.

Warm pleasure swirling inside him, fraying the rope of rationality he couldn’t believe he was still clinging to. And just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, couldn’t hold out, you started to bounce.

Sliding up-and-down on his thick shaft, letting his ridges and veins drag along your insides, slow at first, but steadily speeding up while he started desperately crying out your name. Not on purpose, just babbling, his thoughts all foggy and dazed as he gripped your waist and tried to help you.

Lifting you up and bringing you back down, muscles working to copy the moves he thought he’d be better at, wishing he’d worn a condom so it wasn’t so hard to not snap.

Gojo refused to cum. Scrunched his eyes shut as he buried his face in your skin, brain flashing any unappealing images he could conjure up and desperately failing to hold himself back.

“F-fuck, you’re so-” He groaned, and you were huffing, leaning forward, pressing your chest against his, skin on skin, your breath on the inside of his neck as your lips left a light kiss on his collarbone. The new angle somehow forced his cock in even deeper, your walls clamping down.

“I’m so what?” You teased, sucking softly, like you were trying to leave a hickey. To mark him as yours. Trailing kisses up to the hard line of his jaw, murmuring softly where he’d be the only one to hear. “Look at me, Toru.”

Gojo looked, and he came.

Thick ropes of cum filling you up, a raw sound ripped from him as he thrusted up uselessly inside of you. Your eyes were gleaming, practically fucking glittering with his reflection in them, lips parted and glossy, your hands on his body and your heat on him, all the simmering sensations driving him fucking crazy as he stopped fighting the impulses burning him up inside.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he started rambling, rattling off every word he could think of that fit you as you continued to ride him raw. “Gorgeous, p-pretty, cute, sweet, i-irrestible-”

“S-says you,” you stammered back, face flushing as your own focus slipped.

His fingers slipped between your connected bodies, finding your swollen clit, still sensitive from your first climax, almost distressed as he attempted to get you to cum at the same time as him. Wanting you to feel as good as he felt.

Rubbing circles over it now, putting as much pressure as he could, feeling you respond to him with more broken breathing.

“C’mon,” he grunted, his other hand sliding around to wrap around your back, holding you tight and close, locking you into this position. “Cum for me, please.”

Was begging unattractive? Pleading for you to join him in this intimacy?

Either way, you started trembling, thighs shaking hard as you made some sharp little squeak, whimpering in response as you nodded.

Catching his lips in another kiss, moaning into his mouth like it would do anything to muffle the sound. He swallowed it anyway. Devoured each noise as his own cum continued to leak out inside you, his cock still hard as it nudged against your cervix again. Dampness dripping down your thighs and onto him, probably some getting on your sheets too.

“That’s it, fuck,” he murmured, assurance he didn’t know was meant for you or himself.

“You wanna keep going?” You half-whispered in his ear, lips grazing against his skin – but he shook his head. He liked overstimulation, could probably fuck you for hours, but he wanted to do it in privacy.

Where it was just you and him – where the audience wouldn’t get to see him crying into your skin.

“Turn it off,” he muttered back, and you nodded, leaving another kiss on his forehead before you slid off of him. His arms fell limp to his side, blue eyes hazy, the world blurred around the edges and tinged with leftover pleasure.

He was still trembling, shaking as his spent cock throbbed on his stomach, staring up at your beautiful figure as you shifted off of him.

“Didn’t he do a good job?” You hummed, addressing the chat, back to your casual persona. “Maybe I should keep him.”

It was a joke, something meant to make the mood light – but he wanted so fucking badly for you to keep him. He’d chain himself to your bed if you let him.

You were saying something else, talking about your next normal stream while you said goodbye – and he was reminded that after this, you would both go back to real life. Regularly scheduled programming.

Gojo still sort of felt like a virgin. Utterly inexperienced when he watched you switch off the camera, his stare flicking from the shape of your legs to the way your tits lightly bounced leaning over the computer screen. Scrolling through something on your computer before you glanced back at him, offering a smile that almost felt shy.

“So,” you said, but you didn’t finish your thought.

“That was-” He tried to finish it for you, but it hung out in the open, too many words to choose from that fit. Fantastic? Amazing? Unforgettable?

“Great, yeah,” you nodded, as if you were on the same page. Filling in the blank with one of your own. “Really great.”

“Uh-huh,” he breathed, for once in his life, lacking the ability to say what he wanted.

To tell you how much it meant to him.

“Did you get a hotel?” You asked, holding your own breath as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Um, no, I, uh, drove here,” he stammered out, palms sweating as he sat up in your bed. Only to accidentally dipped his fingers in his own cum stains, immediately lifting it up and looking around for something he could wipe it off with.

You giggled a little, light as you walked back over, getting down on your knees to lick the cum off. He almost came again just from the image alone, cock twitching between his sticky thighs.

The feel of your tongue dragging over his knuckles, sucking until they were clean and the lewd pop! when you pulled them out.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

“Yes,” he quickly answered again, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as he cringed at the neediness in his voice.

“We should probably, like, shower first,” you softened, smiling up at him. “But we could watch one of those movies you told me about?”

Nothing had ever sounded so fucking good.

But the morning after managed to be even better.

Waking up with you nestled in his arms was a feeling he suspected he’d spend the rest of his life chasing. The morning sun drifting in through your pretty lacy curtains. The quiet sound of your breathing. How cute your cheek looked squished on his bicep. The softness of your thigh when you had slotted in between his own.

He couldn’t even blame his morning wood on testosterone.

Gojo slowly snuck out from underneath you, making sure to fix the pillow underneath your head and tuck you back under the blanket before snagging his phone from his jeans on the floor. Padding silently over to your attached bathroom, trying his hardest to shut the door as quietly as possible before flicking on the light and the exhaust fan.

He had more missed messages than he could scroll through the group message between his best friends. It appeared they had somehow managed to figure out that his ‘vacation’ was really just a guise to be with you. Maybe they used his spare key to get in, found his printed out travel plans on the counter or saw any of the messages left up on the computer.

Suguru: Fucking answer asshole.

Shoko: he’s probably asleep

Shoko: or dead lol

Suguru: I might kill him if he isn’t.

Oops?

He sat down on the closed toilet seat, muscled thighs spread out as he ran his fingers through his hair. He hesitated, brows scrunching together as he tried to figure out what to say before settling on announcing his big news.

Although, maybe he should’ve said something other than: Guess who's not a virgin?

Gojo held his breath, nervously tapping his foot on the tiled floor while he waited for the … to pop back up once his message was immediately marked as read.

Suguru: Not funny.

Shoko: ?

Suguru: Where tf are you?

There was a light knock on the bathroom door outside, and Gojo half-jumped up, his still-hard cock springing up at the same time and smacking into his abs just as you called his name outside.

“Satoru?” You yawned, all soft and sweet. Need was pooling back in his stomach, hot and swirling despite him trying to cool it back down with the reminder you were probably just being nice. Only checking on him like a good host would.

“Um, yeah?” He answered, his hand hovering over the door knob as he hesitated to open it. Would you judge him for being hard already?

“Are you okay in there?” You asked, and he almost winced at the earnestness in it. You cared. Even if he was a dork and a loser who had never touched another woman before you. Even if he collected Digimon figures and was more comfortable playing dungeons and dragons than putting his dick in you. “Did I do something-”

“N-no,” he forced out, swinging the door open too fast, panicked by the hint of sadness in your voice, hitting his, uh, most sensitive area with it.

Gojo almost crumpled, a pained moan escaping as you slipped through the crack of the door to see what was wrong.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” You started rambling, reaching out like you were going to pat his penis.

“It’s okay,” he groaned, still wincing at the dull ache.

Your frown deepened as you noticed his phone in his hand, but he was already waving it like it would explain itself.

“My friends were worried for me,” he muttered.

“Oh,” you blinked. “Do they-”

“I’ve told them about you,” Gojo added, sighing as he ruffled his fingers through his messy hair. “Like, a lot.”

“Good things?” You asked, rolling your shoulders back like you were getting more comfortable around him.

“Just that I’m completely obsessed with you,” he chuckled, cringing again when it came out less like a joke and more like a truth.

That’s what it was, though, wasn’t it?

Your eyes were on him, your lips just slightly parted like you had something to say and just couldn't work out how to say it.

Gojo hesitantly met your stare, wondering if he was meant to say something, before you abruptly blurted out a question he never thought he'd hear from any woman.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” You practically squeaked, more high-pitched than you intended, blinking fast and glancing away like you were skittish. The girl who was happy to show off every sensitive spot on camera suddenly shy around him.

“A date?”

Was it really your fault for falling for a guy like him?

You didn’t know when it started. Or well, that wasn’t exactly true. You did remember the first message he ever left for you. It was your third-ever stream, still uncomfortable around the camera as your fingers rubbed over your clit. He called you gorgeous.

He came back for the next stream. And the next.

Actually, he never really left.

Dropping compliments and donations like it was nothing to him, your number one supporter who would shout his approval from the rooftops. He made you smile, lips curling up the second you saw his name in chat – and eventually in your messages too.

From the first kiss, you knew you didn't want to kiss anyone else.

Wanted to spend every morning waking up with him, curled against his chest or sifting your fingers through his soft strands of hair.

You were greedy. You’d always known that.

But that was probably part of the reason it worked so well.

Gojo wanted to spoil you. To take care of you, whether it was tucking your hair behind your ear or buying you presents. Physical and emotional and material, fuck, even spiritually, he fulfilled every need or want – and somehow left you still craving more of him.

He was a little dorky. Giving you lingerie that he thought you liked just to sneak in a second bag with a digimon keychain, stuttering through an explanation that he had one too, that he thought it would be cute if you both had virtual pets together.

But you wouldn’t want him any other way.

It didn’t stop with just one date. Your weekends now spent with him in your bed or on your couch, hand-in-hand going out shopping or listening to him ramble about his latest hyperfixation. He asked you to be his girlfriend in the middle of a movie, his head in your lap while you combed through his pretty white hair, looking up at you like a cute puppy dog. Cuddling one of your plushies against his chest, a new one he you were pretty sure he only bought because you said it reminded you of him.

Satoru sighed into your skin now, fingers skimming over your arm as he pulled you closer into the street. Pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he murmured something about how starving he was.

You glanced up at him, still a little in awe that a guy as handsome as him was with you. And that he’d never actually been with another woman before either. He confessed he’d been a virgin before you took it after a couple weeks after sleepy sex, humming that he was your responsibility now.

One you happily accepted.

“Do you think your friends will like me?” You asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You were both supposed to meet them for brunch, assuage some of their fears that he was turning into a recluse.

“I know they will,” Satoru promised, kissing the top of your head now.

You paused in front of the restaurant, one he insisted you’d love, trying to work up the nerve to meet people that he’d told you so much about. The skeptic and the smoker, his closest friends – and ones you so badly wanted the approval of.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, pulling it out to see it was bank calling. Probably to check that the deposit you were trying to put down on a new studio to film at. Satoru had suggested it – and said that he wouldn’t mind starring in a few more videos after how many donations the one he did with you got.

“Shit,” you frowned at your phone. “Go ahead and order for me? This will just take a few minutes.”

You didn’t realize that his friends might have thought he totally lost it until you walked in and overheard the conversation going on.

“What’s next?” The guy sitting across from him sarcastically drawled. “Something will come up and she’ll have to leave before we see her?”

“No,” Satoru protested, but he wasn’t done.

“You can’t seriously expect us to believe that-”

You tapped on his shoulder before he could finish.

Dark hair almost hitting you as he swiveled back, jaw dropping the second he saw you standing there.

“Hi there,” you smiled, holding your hand out to introduce yourself while he squinted at you as if you were some shimmering apparition.

“You're real?”

“Did you think I wasn't?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side as Satoru stood up from the booth, hurrying over to slip an arm around your waist and guide you back to the seat next to him.

“What do you see in him?” The girl, Shoko, deadpanned, poking at the food on her plate and staring between the two of you like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“He’s your friend, too,” you laughed, shrugging your shoulders and leaning against your boyfriend. “I think Satoru’s sweet. And funny-”

“You think he’s funny?” Geto echoed, like you just said something simply absurd.

Satoru just grinned, squeezing you tight as his brilliant blue eyes flickered between you and his friends.

“Do I get to say I told you so now?”