you do something thoughtful for osamu without asking him first, and it sparks the first real disagreement of your friendship.
part ten of the after school series, a friends-to-lovers AU featuring you, osamu, and the relationship you build solo-parenting two girls in the same kindergarten class.
When Yachi showed you her final draft of Osamu's new sign for Onigiri Miya, you had to stand up from your chair.
"Sorry," you apologized, smoothing your skirt down and tucking yourself back into the table. The downtown coffee joint she suggested was packed and a little too trendy for your liking, but it was the only spot that accommodated both of your busy schedules. "It's just — holy shit. Osamu's going to love it."
"You think so?" The designer a few years your junior examined her work with a taut smile, as if trying to convince herself of her own talent. "I tried to keep the spirit of your original mockup while adding a bit of my personal style. I hope it's not too distracting."
"It's not." You shook your head — still reeling over her design choices, the smart balance between illustration and text. "It's so much better than I pictured in my head. How much do I owe you?"
"Oh, not much. I'll send you the invoice later." Yachi waved a hand, accustomed to your years-long exchange of work-related favors. "So long as your friend gets more customers, that's all that matters!”
"I could kiss you right now, Hitoka." You slid the documents into your work bag and downed the rest of your coffee. "Osamu will want to give you free onigiri for the rest of your life."
The wind upended your hair the moment you stepped out of the café and onto the busy sidewalk.
"You know, you caught me at a good time," Yachi confessed over the sound of office workers, self-driving cars, and drivers honking at self-driving cars. "I'm actually going back to school in a couple weeks.”
"Hitoka!" Your jaw went slack, furious she hadn't told you sooner. “That's amazing! What for?"
"Typography classes." She shrugged, although her lips tugged into a giddy smile. "It's just an evening course at my local community college, but it'll probably take up all my free time.”
"You know, Osamu has been wanting to go back to school for the longest time. Do they have a website or something?"
"Oh, for sure!" Yachi frowned, already reaching for her phone. "I actually think they're having an open house in a couple of weeks. He should totally look into it.”
The link appeared in your inbox not a moment later.
"You know," she began, sliding her phone back into her work slacks. "You're doing an awful lot for this guy who's just your friend."
"Please. I'm just making up for all the times he's fed me," you breathed. It didn't exactly help, given the way Yachi’s smile turned saccharine. "I'm serious!"
"Whatever you say,” she half-sang, turning back in the direction of the Yajakudo Designers office. "Let me know if you need a wedding invitation, okay? My treat!"
You didn't remember her being so brazen, you thought, fishing for your parking validation at the bottom of your work bag. Then again, I guess I've changed, too.
The thought clung to you like a piece of chewing gum as you sped-walked toward the parking garage and spent the next fifteen minutes trying to find your car.
On the other side of town, Osamu was actively trying not to crash out. Lunch hour was the busiest it had ever been; he was down two whole crates of avocados. The toilet in the family bathroom had been clogged since this morning, and Itsuki had just called out sick with mono.
"You know they call it the kissing disease?" he shared over the phone. "She was like a siren, boss. Beautiful on the outside, lethal on the inside."
"Alright." Osamu rolled his eyes from where he'd locked himself inside the freezer room. "Just drink lots of fluids. And stop stickin' yer tongue down everyone's throat."
"You're tellin' me," the eighteen-year-old sighed. "I think I’m a changed man now."
Before Osamu could open his mouth to respond, his phone rang with another call. It was Miss Yuki.
"Shit," he murmured under his breath. "I gotta take this. Lemme know if ya need anything, alright?"
He always figured there would come a time Kina wound up in the principal's office. He just didn't think it'd be today.
"I can't believe ya got into a fight," he grumbled after twenty-five minutes of traffic and a stern talking to by the head-of-school. "The hell happened?"
Kina hung her head low and dragged her feet across the asphalt, really exercising her right to remain silent.
"I don't wanna talk about it," she said, a repeat of what she'd told Miss Yuki and the head-of-school ten minutes ago.
"And here I thought ya got along with Yui..." Osamu muttered, unlocking his truck and tossing Kina's backpack into the backseat. "The hell am I gonna do with ya for the rest of the day?"
The drive back to the restaurant was silent save for the sound of Kina's legs swinging against her booster seat. Maybe he could set her up in a booth. Ask one of his employees to walk her through the puzzles on the back of the kid's menu.
"...she called me weird because I don't have a mommy," Kina murmured at a red light. Voice small. Knees turned protectively toward the window. "She called me weird because I don't have a mommy, and I punched her in the eye.”
Now, Osamu knew his daughter was unpredictable. Half the time, it aged him. The other half made him laugh so hard his sides hurt. This, though?
All he felt was his stomach drop, his insides twist. He wanted nothing more than to unbuckle his seatbelt and wrap her into a big hug.
Before he could, though, the light turned green.
"Oh, sweetheart," he said. Voice strained. Knuckles turning white as he drove through the intersection. "Yer not. Even though mommy ain’t livin’ with us, yer not any less than those girls at school. Ya hear me?"
“I know.” Kina nodded in the rearview mirror, although her bottom lip still trembled. "That's what Misa said, too.”
"Good." Osamu swallowed, the thought of you easing his nerves like a balm. "That's...that's good."
He'd been so distracted lately. By missing ingredients. By sick employees. By his foolish, painful crush on you — which wasn't your fault. He knew that. Maybe if he hadn't been so absentminded, he would've picked up on Kina and Yui sooner. Maybe if he were a little less selfish, his daughter wouldn't be crying in the back seat right now.
The thought stuck with him the entire afternoon, rotting like a fruit in the back of his mind.
"Did your phone die or something?" The front door to the restaurant jingled open as you stepped inside and fixed your hair. "I've been calling you for the past hour."
"Shit." Osamu adjusted his backwards baseball cap and checked the digital clock above the register. Sure enough, it was already five. "Sorry. I've had a crap day."
"Tell me about it. I'm so behind on work, I had Kuroo pick up Misa from school." You massaged the inner corners of your eyes and laughed. "I bet all my life savings he feeds her ice cream before jiu-jitsu."
You walked inside the mostly empty dining room and blinked at the child napping in a nearby booth — limbs splayed, mouth wide open.
"You picked her up early today?"
"Long story." Osamu winced. Luckily, you didn’t push. Merely snorted before sliding into an empty barstool. "How'd yer meetin' with the designer go?"
"Oh, great. She saves my ass at the JVA more times than I can count, so I'm on a mission to give her as much business as possible."
You reached for your work bag to show him the designs, but stopped abruptly.
"I need to tell you something first, though."
"Oh?" He paused. Tossed the towel he'd been using to wipe the counter over a shoulder. "I'm listenin'."
"Remember when you told me you were considering going back to school?"
Osamu nodded. He was pretty sure you were sitting in that same exact spot, too.
"Well...my designer sent me the website of a community college she's attending in the spring, and I may or may not have signed you up for their last open house in a few weeks."
Osamu blinked at your words. The slight guilt beneath them.
"And before you come at me!" Your eyes grew panicked. "I checked your Google Calendar backwards and forwards; I made sure I was free to babysit. They have this incredible scholarship for business owners wanting to finish their degree, and I think if you just looked into it — "
"I can't."
It was out before he could stop it. Osamu swallowed, stunned by the bite in his own voice. "I appreciate the offer, but...I can't."
"...oh." You clamped your mouth shut. Furrowed your brow in confusion. "Are you busy that day? Do you have a catering gig?"
“No." He shrugged, brushing a pile of imaginary crumbs off the countertop. "I just don't think I got the time. Between Kina and the restaurant, things are already crazy as-is."
"Well, lots of people make it work," you offered. "Plus, you've got a great support system. You have your mom, your brother. I can even take Kina to Misa's Tiger Tots program on the days you have class."
"What? No." He blanched, having already witnessed his daughter's appetite for violence. "I couldn't ask ya to do that. Plus, Tsumu's trainin' for the Emperor's Cup in December. It'd be too much."
"Osamu." You frowned at him from across the bar. "I know it'd be hard, but...I wouldn't want you to give up on something you clearly want."
He scoffed, gesturing for one of his employees to take over the register. "Think I gave up my right to do whatever I wanted a long time ago."
You narrowed your eyes at him, then. As if looking for subtitles to help explain wherever the hell this was coming from.
“Are you okay?" you pressed, following Osamu as he retreated into his office. Between the tall stacks of paperwork to the dust bunnies behind the computer monitor, you had no idea how he got any work done back here. "Did something happen with Kina at school?"
"When doesn't somethin' happen with Kina at school?" he snorted.
“That’s fine. You're not obligated to tell me," you huffed, leaning against the aging doorframe. "I just don’t think you should be making such sweeping decisions when you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
“Snippy." You gestured to the old shoebox you were standing in. "Clearly auditioning for the latest season of Hoarders."
"I make it work." He plopped into his broken desk chair, tufts of memory foam puffing out the cracked leather with a wheeze.
"You don't even have any windows!" you cried. "Seriously, Osamu. When's the last time you did anything for yourself?"
"Are ya seriously askin' me that right now?" he balked. "When's the last time ya took somethin' off of yer plate? Or went to sleep at a decent hour?"
"Hey. I take vitamins for that and you know it."
He rolled his eyes. "Face it. Ya can't berate me for not takin' care of myself because, at the end of the day, yer the same way."
"At least I don't act like a martyr about it," you muttered. Osamu arched an eyebrow at that. You sighed through your nose.
"Look. I get that you're busy. Hell, I get that a program like this is a huge expense. But don't use those as excuses for not going after what you want when I actually think you're just scared."
Your accusation hung in the air like a pungent smell. Osamu slid his eyes away from yours, although the blush creeping up the side of his neck told you that he'd heard you. Loud and clear.
"Daddy?" Kina interrupted after several long, agonizing seconds. She popped her head inside the office and frowned. As if she could smell the tension off the both of you. "What's the password for the potty?"
Osamu recited it to her. "Will you go in with her?" he asked apologetically. "Last time I let her in there by herself, she fell into the toilet."
Despite everything, you snorted.
"Roger that. C'mon, Kina."
"…were you and my daddy having a lover's quarrel?" he heard his daughter ask as you walked with her to the bathroom.
You didn’t answer right away. Kina asked again, just in case you didn’t hear her the first time. Meanwhile, Osamu's forehead hit his desk with a soft thunk.
"Wow..." Atsumu's thumbs flew across his controller at record speed. "For once in my life, I'm not the idiot twin."
Osamu cursed as his brother sent Captain Falcon flying straight into Ike's chest. "The hell ya mean by that?"
The apartment was quiet save for the low rumble of Super Smash Bros on the television, the occasional snore floating in from Kina's ajar bedroom door. The scent of fried salmon still lingered in the air — and while there were dishes in the sink and leftovers on the stove, Osamu couldn't bring himself to take care of it.
"What I mean is that Y/N went out of her way to sign ya up for somethin' you've been talkin' about for ages — and ya went and shot her down for no reason!"
"No reason? Did ya hear anythin' I just said?" Osamu spat, trying to regain offense. "Tsumu, I'm drownin' over here! I've got the restaurant and my kid — "
"Eh, you've been sayin' that for years now," Atsumu scoffed. "Find a better excuse. Or at least sound more convincin' when ya say it."
A muscle feathered in Osamu's jaw as Ike was blasted off screen, Atsumu's Falcon Punch delivering the final blow of the match. "GAME!"
Sighing, Osamu let the controller fall into his lap. "Kina got into a fight at school the other day."
"Really?" Atsumu pushed out his bottom lip. "Did she win?"
"That ain't the point!" Osamu snapped. "It's just...one of her classmates bullied her for not havin' a mom, and I've been pissed off ever since."
"Damn." His brother frowned, watching as Captain Falcon flexed his muscles in victory on the television. "Kids are real assholes."
"Yer tellin' me," Osamu grumbled, picking at a loose thread on one of Kina's plushies she hadn't put away yet. "I know Y/N meant well by what she did, it’s just...how the hell am I supposed to think about finishin' school when my kid needs me to be two people at once?"
Atsumu considered his brother's question for a long while. Arms folded, feet kicked up on the coffee table. Osamu almost thought he'd fallen asleep before —
"Well, unless ya suddenly grow a pair of tits, I don't think you'll ever be her mom."
“For fuck's sake, Tsumu,” Osamu swore, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. "I thought ya were gonna say somethin' profound.”
"Think about it, though! Kina's mom is the way she is. It sucks and it's unfair, but...it's also out of your control. So why would ya spend all yer wakin' hours pretendin' that it's not?"
Atsumu reached for his controller to start the next game. "Kina doesn't need ya to be anyone else but her dad. And given the fact that you've managed to keep her alive this long, I'd say yer doin' just fine."
Osamu didn't say a word. Merely sniffed back his exhaustion. Regained his own controller once it came time to pick the next stage. Stuff like this wasn’t intuitive to him anymore. Playing games instead of tidying up. Going to college open houses instead of watching Kina. It all felt backwards. Too indulgent. If everyone around him was well-fed and happy, why should anything else matter?
I wouldn't want you to give up on something you clearly want.
He didn't need to think too hard about what he wanted. Actually getting it, though...
"Do ya think it'd be crazy if I asked her out on a date?" he asked quietly.
"No," Atsumu said without missing a beat. "But if ya fuck things up, I will run ya over with my car and ask her out myself."
"Fuck you," Osamu snorted. Then, because he still had some pride left in his body, "Ya ain't even her type."
"And yer somehow better? Yer hobby is brooding."
Osamu's jaw tightened. "Can't argue with that."
He proceeded to lose the next three games before shutting the television off entirely.
The following day, Osamu stood in the lobby of your office building. Bento box in one hand. Cell phone in the other. He'd been scrolling through the website of the community college whose open house you'd signed him up for — and while he'd only intended to glance at it for formality's sake, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested.
To your credit, they did seem pretty flexible with their evening business program — offering scholarships, online course options. They even had an on-campus daycare at no additional cost to parents. The more he scrolled, the more he could picture himself being there. Learning there.
The idea excited him, if only for a second.
"Osamu?" An unfamiliar voice called out to him from across the lobby. The stranger wore a loose tie and a blue button-down, and his hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days. "I don't think we've met! Tetsurō Kuroo."
"I — pleasure to meet ya," Osamu managed, pocketing his cell phone before taking the young man's hand for a shake. "How did ya know it was me?"
"I know a Miya when I see one," he drawled, gesturing to Osamu's face. He pointed toward the bento box. "You treating Y/N to lunch today?"
"More like offerin' her an apology meal," Osamu admitted. "She said she'd come down once she was out of her meetin'."
"Ah.” Kuroo nodded. “So you're in the doghouse."
Did Osamu even have the right to be in the doghouse? That felt like something reserved for people in relationships. Not...whatever the two of you were.
"Well, we're not — "
"I'm just shittin’ you, man. That food smells delicious,” Kuroo enthused, ever the portrait of attention deficit. He clapped Osamu on the back before stalking off toward the exit. "Good luck on your apology! I'm sure she'll be down any second now."
Sure enough, after minutes of hovering around and making unwanted eye-contact with your security guard, Osamu spotted you. Heels clacking against the tile. Work badge swinging from your belt loop. You always walked like that, he realized. Like you were going somewhere important.
"Sorry to make you wait!" you apologized, picking up speed as you approached. "Everyone and their mother was in the elevator today. Someone let it rip in there, too. It was bad."
"Yer good." Osamu grinned, relieved by how easy things felt despite your previous conversation. "Why don't we take a walk? Get ya some fresh air?"
"I'd love nothing more," you chirped, already heading for the exit. Your expression faltered once you spotted the bento box in his hand. "You didn't have to bring me lunch. I would've been happy just to see you."
"Eh." Osamu shrugged, popping open the box as you pushed your way out of the building and onto the busy sidewalk. "I wanted to do it.”
You began your slow, easy walk around the block — Osamu offering you small bites of hot dog and rice, you folding them into your cheeks like a squirrel.
"Even though I'm the one who owes you an apology?" you asked eventually.
"I — " Osamu blinked. "I didn't think ya did."
"I do, though." You swallowed, eyes glossing over with an emotion Osamu couldn't place. "I was way out of line the other day. I got excited and I overstepped, and...I should have asked before signing you up for the open house. I'm sorry."
Osamu soaked in your words. The tenderness beneath them. All this time, he'd been mulling over how to apologize to you. He didn't consider the fact that you might be doing the same.
"Well, I appreciate that, but ya were just bein' thoughtful," he offered gently. "Besides, ya weren't wrong. I was scared. I was scared and pissed and hypoglycemic, and...I was just lookin' for excuses to say no to ya. So I'm sorry, too."
You accepted his apology with a soft smile, eyes drifting down to your shoes.
"Do you want to talk about it? What was bothering you the other day?"
“Yeah…” Osamu sucked in a sharp breath and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Kina got into a fight with Yui at recess."
You fought back a sheepish look and confessed, "I know. Misa told me when she got back from jiu-jitsu."
Then, because you couldn't help yourself, "Did she win?"
“Why is everyone askin’ me that?” Osamu griped. He plucked a cherry tomato from the bento box and popped it into his mouth. "Yui told Kina she was weird for not havin’ a mom, so Kina…gave her a black eye.”
"Sounds like a win to me," you hummed. "And honestly? I would’ve done the same."
"No."
"Absolutely! You should’ve seen me when a Levi’s sales associate told me I couldn't fit my postpartum hips into any of their jeans. Misa gave me the stink-eye at a ripe three months of age.”
Osamu was full-on laughing now. "Well, despite yer appetite for violence, I think ya raised a good egg."
"You did, too," you reminded him with a light shove. "At least Kina can defend herself in a fight.”
"Yeah. I've got myself and Tsumu to blame for that," Osamu drawled. "It's just...Kina's my whole world. How am I supposed to focus on anythin' else?"
"Well, how's that saying go?” You weaved around a throng of office workers on their way to lunch — grabbed Osamu by the arm so you wouldn't lose him. “You can't pour from an empty cup?"
"Yeah. Suppose yer right," he sighed, squeezing your hand with his bicep. "It's just not in my nature to do that. To be selfish.”
"It's not selfish, Osamu. It's self-preserving."
"Yeah?" The corners of his lips tilted into a smirk. "And have you self-preserved at all in the past year?"
You shoved him again, a little harder this time. "Do as I say, Osamu. Not as I do."
His chuckle, low and teasing, rumbled right through you. "So full of wisdom today..."
You eventually found your way back to your office. Bento box empty. Hand still tucked into Osamu's arm. You tried not to think too deeply about how warm he felt, pressed into your side like that. But as you both pulled away from each other, you couldn't help but notice the difference.
“If I go to that open house in a couple weeks, will ya promise to take a day off?” he asked, snapping the lid back on. "I can take Misa for the day."
"Really?" The expression you gave him was touched. "You’d do that?”
"Course I would! I’ll take her and Kina to a volleyball game or somethin'. I'm sure Atsumu could spare us the free tickets.”
"Well...yeah, okay. I'd like that." You blinked, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea. "God. What am I gonna do with all that free time?"
"Well, ya could craft. Book that nail appointment you've been puttin’ off — "
"Oh!" You snapped your fingers. "I could read the smutty novel that's been sitting on my nightstand!”
"I — that, too," he chortled. It didn't escape you, the way his ears turned bright pink at the suggestion. Before you could tease him about it, though, he held his pinky out to you. "To takin' care of ourselves?"
You rolled your eyes slightly before hooking your pinky around his. "To taking care of ourselves."
Osamu still had a ways to go before he could fully want things like he used to. After all, his circle of happiness might as well have been drawn in permanent marker.
But as he waved you goodbye and walked back to his truck, he found himself scrolling through the community college website again. Reading up on the classes. Doing the tuition expenses in his head.
He'd be open to having this, he thought.
Then maybe, once he worked up the courage to ask, he'd be open to having you, too.
✨ next time: osamu and atsumu take the girls to a volleyball game, misa and kina meet a few familiar faces, and y/n gets tipsy for the first time in years...
✍🏼 author's note: thank you so much for everyone's patience! i participated in my first summer fic exchange last month, so it took me a bit of time to get the ball rolling again on our lil' kimori family. rest assured, though, these next few chapters are probably some of my favorite in the whole series (for reasons i'll keep to myself for now). 😏 💖 *squeeeee*
@miyasmagnolias
ugh! living with nerd!jo makes it soo hard not to be a perv
a/n: idk if the wording sounds weird but something diff bc I always see pervy[char name] but sometimes in life you have to be the pervy reader
being a pervyroommate!reader who tells nerd!jo that you need his help for an anatomy project. the project in question? an accurate sketch of the male anatomy with no clothing in the way. when he tries to refuse, you give him your signature pouty lips and he gives in. who else would you feel comfortable around for suchhh a vulnerable assignment?
being a pervyroommate!reader who wears low-cut tops just to lean over in front of nerd!jo, that way he can see your pillowy tits bunching together in front of him. you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate before flitting around the room in an attempt to avoid the tempting view.
being a pervyroommate!reader who loves sneaking into nerd!jo's room when he isn't home and spraying that sweet vanilla-scented perfume onto his dark blue sheets. that way, he'll start associating his nightly jerk-off sessions with you, his sweet roommate!
being a pervyroommate!reader who acts drunker than you actually you are so you can stumble into nerd!jo and push your body against his toned one. but it’s okay because you meet his eyes with an apologetic pout and squeak out a ‘sorry’!
being a pervyroommate!reader who leaves the door cracked open before changing so when nerd!jo walks past on the way to his own room, he catches a glimpse of your naked skin. sometimes you even catch his eye and offer an innocent smile that has guilty heat rushing to his cock.
being a pervyroommate!reader who meets nerd!jo’s eyes when eating a popsicle so he can watch your cheeks hollow and your lips stretch around the sweet treat.
being a pervyroommate!reader who is just soo ditsy, you forget to grab your towel before a shower. that leaves you sweetly calling nerd!jo for help. ofcourse you don’t mean to crack the door open wider than necessary when taking it so he can see your naked wet body.
being a pervyroommate!reader who “accidentally” leaves the apartment computer’s search history in tact only so nerd!jo can see the porn you’ve been watching. it’s a total coincidence that your search always includes ‘white haired boy with glasses’!
Your husband is always touching you in some way; a hand on your lower back, fingers grazing your shoulder, lips pressing against your cheek. There was a place he loved the most, nonetheless, which was one he painfully had to resort touching upon only in private. Your breasts.
Reading in bed? He had one large hand beneath your top, slowly groping the flesh like a stress ball. Cooking dinner? He was behind you, both hands on your chest mumbling about his day into your neck. The worst thing about it all? It roused you up every time. Fifteen minutes into reading and your thighs were pressing together under the covers, rough fingers against your soft nipples making your breath catch in your throat. Half-way through serving dinner and you were unconsciously pushing your hips back against Hiromi, fighting back little moans and whimpers.
His mouth was the culprit of your melting, though.
Your eyes screw shut, fists enclosing around the soft material of the couch as Hiromi sucks your breast into his mouth, tongue flicking the nipple and giving it a teasing scrape with his teeth which elicits an involuntary gasp to fall past your lips. “Romi’,” you mumble breathlessly, one hand tangling into his messy hair.
His eyes peer up to look at you, licking a long strip up one breast. Your breath catches. Then you reach down, tugging him up by his belt and pulling it from each belt loop. He bites his lip to hold back a groan as you roughly shove his trousers down, freeing his pulsing cock from his boxers. And once you flip him over and sink down onto his throbbing length, veiny sides brushing against your walls, he releases a deep guttural groan in between your breasts. Even as you bounce on his thick cock, one hand is groping your breast, the other one victim to his unforgiving mouth that was currently spreading saliva all over your soft skin.
As he comes with his head tilted back, hips bucking up from the pleasure, he still makes sure that his hand never falls from your breast.
he has had many experiences since he turned 18 and he’s now in his late twenties. safe to say he knew every kink, tried all types of weird shit and was a masterful makeout partner. (if he said so himself!)
but here you are perched up nicely, straddling his lap, your hands pulling desperately at the little hairs that gained length from his overgrown undercut.
his large hands palming your ass as you grinded down on him slowly, your mouth moving in sync with his, your faces twisting constantly and your tongue fighting for dominance so hard you smeared a bit of drool on the side of his mouth.
well not like he cared.
he was used to this, used to your rough bites, soft whimpers and tough grip as his mouth worked on you.
so when you trailed off from his lips, your light kisses going down his jaw, turning to bites in between on his neck. he didn’t think much of it, baring the long column to you with a huff like feeding a vampire its next meal.
his hands never stopping their flexing on your thighs, your ass anywhere he could reach as you huffed and sucked on him possessively.
his cock strained hard against his shorts, waiting to get ruined as he nudged you over and over again, getting lost on the sauce even didn’t notice that your kisses started trailing back up again.
until he felt it.
the soft tug of your teeth at the bottom of his earlobe before you pressed a chaste kiss on the spot. mouthing up the column of his now reddening ear, pulling his helix before you pulled back just enough to trace the outside of his ear with your tongue.
you followed the shape, your teeth coming out and grazing on his shell just as you licked the slight dip at the inside feeling him clutch at your body and fucking shiver.
he knew he was done for when he felt your hands repeatedly push his face away as it drifted towards your own and he couldn’t slow down his heaving chest or the soft pants that escaped.
now here he was ear wet, hot and pulsing, it didn’t make it much better he could hear your soft pleasurable sighs before your hands came up and you whimpered almost pathetically in between your mouthing as you left one last lick on his ear before you moved back to his jaw, “mm…satoru.”
he couldn’t even tell you what happened next, your mouth finding his own as he let out the most desperate moan he’s ever heard from himself before you pulled away from him with a pop.
“you just came untouched?”
after that fucking kiss of course he did.
yorikae
** check if their ears are clean b4 doing this btw
how you seduce each of them when you want your way
gojo | toji | nanami | geto
content warning : explicit sexual teasing • seduction • grinding • dry-humping • dirty talk • begging • manipulation • gojo being a whiny brat • mdni • 18+.
read the main series here
Satoru Gojo
☆ convincing him to get you a dildo
It's so fucking easy to seduce Satoru. like, embarrassingly easy.
all you have to do is flash a little skin, bare shoulder, the dip of your waist, the curve where your thigh meets your ass and he's half-gone. add a tiny extra sway to your hips when you walk past him, tug your top down just enough that the neckline dips low, and boom he's done.
who are we kidding? you could stand there breathing the fuckin' air and he'd consider it foreplay. the man spoils you stupid. not just little gifts here and there, Gojo catches you hold your gaze on something more than a few seconds and the next thing you know it's materializing in your hands like he pulled it straight out of thin air.
new phone? done. that expensive bag you glanced at once? already in your closet with a bow on it. he'd buy you the moon if you pouted hard enough. but this? asking him to buy you a dildo? that's suicide.
he'd clutch his chest like he was having a heart attack, eyes wide, voice cracking into that dramatic whine he saves for when he feels personally attacked.
"why bunnyyyy? don't I satisfy you anymore? you don't love me? am I not good enough? Is my dick not big enough? you don't like it when I eat your pussy? what did I do wrong?!"
It would be a whole mess. but the curiosity had been eating at you for months. you'd never owned one. back when you still lived with your parents it wasn't even an option, too risky, too embarrassing, nowhere to hide it. but now that you’re moved out and got your own room, you’ve been curious. like really curious. that's exactly why you spent the last hour scrolling through online, to find a perfect one.
problem was, you had zero money of your own. so step one: make Satoru not only agree, but actually buy the damn thing.
you stripped out of your comfy pajamas in front of the mirror, heart racing with mischief. the shortest pair of booty shorts Gojo had bought you, the ones that barely covered your ass cheeks, went on first. buttery yellow tank top followed, also from him, thin enough that your nipples were already poking through. you skipped the bra completely. why bother when the goal was to make him drop to his knees?
you stepped out of your room, ass bouncing with every deliberate step, and there he was, lounging on the couch in the living room, long legs spread wide, sipping a strawberry milkshake while some dumb action movie played on the TV.
perfect. showtime.
you sauntered over, stopping right in front of him, voice all sweet and innocent. “toruuu… can you do me a favor?”
his head snapped up instantly. bright blue eyes lit up like fireworks the second they landed on you. he sat up straight, arms opening wide. “yes, bunny? come here, come here~”
Instead of sitting in his lap like usual, you walked to the far end of the couch, sat down turning to face him, and slowly lifted both legs up, spreading them into a wide V. the seam of those tiny shorts dug right into your bare pussy, the thin fabric starting to pull tight against your folds, holding onto for dear life. you could feel yourself getting wet just from the weight of his gaze.
Satoru’s milkshake slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a wet splat. his mouth fell open. “bunny… what are you—”
“toru…” you asked all sweet and clueless, tilting your head, “can you tell if these shorts are see-through?”
he gulped so hard you swear you heard it. “n-not sure… lemme get a closer look.”
he crawled across the couch like a man possessed, face stopping inches from your cunt. his hot breath makes you clench around nothing.
“how about now?” you whispered, spreading your thighs a little wider. “can you tell?”
his breathing was ragged. “… not sure… just— fuck, lemme check properly.” long fingers brushed over the seam, right where it pressed against your clit. he started rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made the cloth slide against your slick pussy lips.
“mmmh, toru… only asked you to look,” you teased, even as your hips twitched.
“I know, I know… but bunny, you’re leaking so much.” he kept rubbing, pressing the soaked seam harder against your clit until a dark, wet patch bloomed right in front of his face. “look at that… definitely see-through. can see your pretty cunt lips, baby.”
“mmm— toru… thanks for your help,” you let a moan like that slip out, then had the fuckin' audacity to snap your legs shut like shutting the door to heaven and stood up, turning away with a little sway of your ass.
you must have been the dumbest little thing if you thought he was gonna have it.
he grabbed your wrist and yanked you straight onto his lap, your back to his chest, cock rock-hard and pressing up against your ass. “where the hell do you think you’re going?” he growled in your ear, voice whiny and desperate all at once.
yeah, the mission is running successfully. you giggled. “my room? I just wanted to make sure if the shorts were see-through… that's it...”
“cut the bullshit, babe.” he says as his hands slid up your thighs, gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them so his bulge nestled right between them. “you don’t... you don't get to tease me like that and walk away. I'm so fucking hard it hurts. look what you did.”
you bit the tip of your finger, looking over your shoulder with big innocent eyes. “you really want more?”
“yes, bunny, please. you can’t just flash me and leave me like this. I’ll die. I’ll actually die.”
you rocked your hips back against him once, slow and filthy. “mmm… sure… but toru, actually there's something I wa—”
he cut you off, already grinding up into you. “take my money, my card, my fucking soul, anything. just let me have it, please—”
“It’s not what you th—”
“whatever it is, yes. done. tell me later. can’t wait—” his hands shoved up under your shorts, grabbing two big handfuls of your plump ass, fingers spreading you open so the cool air hit your soaked pussy.
you smiled, sweet and victorious. “mhmm toruuu… actually I wanted a dildo.”
his whole body froze, eyes narrowed. His grip on your ass turned bruising. “…w—what?”
you tried again, softer. “I—I just wanted to try one out—”
Ahhhh, here it comes.
“am I... not enough for you?” his voice cracked, pure drama. “Is my dick ain't big enough? don’t you like it when I eat your pussy? baby, I fuck you every single day and more!”
“toruuu, it’s not that—”
“then why, bunny?” he was full-on pouting now, still kneading your ass like it would change your mind.
you turned in his lap so you were straddling him, cupping his face. “I just wanna try it once… please, toru? buy it for me?”
“nooooo. not happening. notas long as my cock breathes.”
you tilt your head, lips twitching. “well technically it’s not your cock that breathes…”
“come on—you get what I mean,” he snaps back, pout deepening.
you arch a brow, voice sweet but pointed. “Is that final?”
he lets out a dramatic sigh, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second like the weight of the world just landed on him. “yeah, bunny… it hurts me to say no to you—but no. no dildo. not when there’s something way better right here in my damn pants.” he rolls his hips up once for emphasis, thick length pressing insistently against you. “this is all you need. promise.”
you stared at him for a long second, then sighed. “okay.”
you started to climb off. he panicked instantly, scrambling after you on his knees, arms wrapping around your legs like a clingy golden retriever.
“where are you going?! bunny, nooo— don't do that! I’m so hard it hurts, please don’t leave me—”
now you actually feel a little bad for him, as always when you fall right into his dramatics. but you just really wanted it this time. so you dropped down to your knees in front of him, eye-level, and grabbed his hand. without breaking eye contact you slid it under the hem of your shorts and pressed his long fingers right against your bare, oozing cunt.
Gojo’s brain visibly short-circuited. you bit your lip, letting a soft moan slip out as you rocked against his fingers. “do you like it, toru?”
“fuuuuck... yes, I do. please let me eat it. let me put it in. will do anything—”
you giggled in victory, pulled his hand out, maddeningly slow and stood up, ass swaying as an invitation before walking off to your bedroom.
he followed like a lost puppy, crawling behind you on all fours before standing up and scooping you up in one smooth motion.
that night he fucked you extra hard. pounding you into the mattress like he was trying to prove a point, hips snapping so deep you saw stars, groaning in your ear the whole time about how his cock was better than any toy.
but Satoru is still Satoru. he can't just go back on his word and miss the golden chance to see those sparkles in your eyes when you get something you like.
exactly one week later a sleek black package arrived with your name on it. Inside was a high-end dildo, thick, veiny, perfectly curved, and suspiciously the exact same size, shape, and color of something you were all too familiar with. a little handwritten note was tucked on top in messy handwriting:
“enjoy, bunny ♡ we both know nothing beats the original”
you stared at the custom-molded replica of his ridiculously huge, pretty dick, cheeks burning, cunt beating faster than your heart.
that ridiculous boy. you loved him so fucking much.
Living with Sukuna was an experience. An absolutely insane, unhinged experience.
You shared his massive penthouse, practically dirt cheap for a place that luxurious, but it worked out since you were good friends. He didn’t have many rules—keep the place clean, cook for him sometimes. Easy.
But as you both got comfortable, Sukuna started to let loose. And the first thing to go? Clothes.
The man did not believe in wearing anything. Just full-on, shameless nudity. No warning. No hesitation. Just strutting around butt-naked like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The first time it happened, you screamed. Like any normal, sane person would. You expected him to apologize, maybe say it was an accident and throw on some pants. Nope. This bastard just laughed—a full, deep, shameless laugh—and walked away, giving you a perfect view of his ridiculously tight ass.
After that, it became normal. Or maybe you just stopped having the will to fight it. He’d lounge on the couch, legs spread like he still had pants on, strolling through the kitchen with everything on display.
When you finally confronted him about it, he just shrugged.
"I run hot," he said lazily. "I sweat like crazy."
Like that explained anything.
But even his "running hot" excuse didn’t stop him from crawling into your bed at night. At first, the whole naked man sleeping next to you situation was beyond questionable, but you soon realized—he just hated being alone. Some nights, you’d stay up talking until you both passed out. You just had to ignore the nakedness.
Then came the cuddling. At first, it was just an arm thrown over your waist, harmless. But eventually, he started pulling you close, tucking you against his broad, overheated chest like you were his personal pillow. At that point, you’d lost all shame. His bed, your bed—it didn’t matter. You two always ended up tangled together, limbs intertwined.
Things shifted on a hot summer night when you were both restless from the heat. Sukuna was in one of his moods, demanding things like he owned you. And before you could question it, he had your shirt lifted, your shorts stripped away like it was nothing.
And from that night on, sleeping naked together just became a thing.
He was rubbing off on you. Literally.
Then came the next level of madness—openly jerking off.
Who even does that?!
Sukuna would stroll in, dick already half-hard, zero shame in his gaze. And just… go for it. Right there. Like it was the most casual thing in the world.
The first time it happened, you had just walked into the living room, unsuspecting, maybe a little sleepy. And there he was—legs spread, dick already drooling, lazily stroking himself like he wasn’t committing a crime against humanity.
You froze. Brain blue-screened.
"Sukuna."
"Yeah?" he answered, completely unfazed.
"WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?!"
He just raised a brow, looking at you like you were the weirdo in this situation. "What’s it look like?"
And then, this bastard—this absolute menace—had the audacity to grin at you while still going at it, slow and casual, like he was just flipping through TV channels.
"Bro." Your hands slapped over your face. "What kind of roommate handbook told you this was okay?"
Sukuna chuckled, completely unbothered. "I dunno, maybe the one where my roommate sleeps naked with me every night?"
You opened your mouth—then closed it. …Shit. He had a point.
But still! Basic decency?! Hello?!
After that, things escalated. Not in a let’s cross all the lines way—oh no, Sukuna preferred to toe the line. Test the limits. He seemed to enjoy watching you malfunction.
It started with him getting way too comfortable touching you.
At first, it was just small things. A lazy hand on your thigh when you sat together. An arm draped around your waist when he pulled you into a cuddle at night. Little things. Innocent things.
Then, he got bolder.
One night, you were both lying in bed, and out of nowhere, he ran his huge, calloused hand up the back of your thigh—slow, warm, deliberate.
You jumped. "Dude, what the fuck?!"
Sukuna blinked at you, looking genuinely confused. "What? You’re soft."
"…That is NOT an excuse!"
He snorted. "Relax. It’s not like I’m doing anything."
Oh, but that was the problem. He was doing everything.
And he knew exactly what he was doing.
After that, it became a game to him. Sukuna loved to see how much he could get away with. He’d crowd you in the kitchen, reaching around you for something just to press up against your back. He’d stretch his arms behind his head, smirking when he caught your eyes drifting. He’d trace circles on your skin absentmindedly, acting like it was no big deal.
And You hate how your starting to getused to it.
At this point, if he wasn’t touching you, it felt weird.
Which led to the biggest crime of all.
One night, you were sprawled across his bed, barely awake, feeling the familiar weight of his arm around you. And then—you felt it.
Pressed right against your thigh.
Hot. Heavy. Hard.
You went completely stiff. "Sukuna."
"Hm?" He sounded way too relaxed for a man committing a felony.
"That better be your fucking knee."
A beat of silence. Then—a low, amused chuckle.
"Nah," he admitted, voice husky, smug as hell. "Definitely not my knee."
You shoved him off the bed.
The thud was satisfying. So was his wheezing laughter.
"You absolute freak!" You buried your face in the pillow. "I can’t fucking live like this."
"Sure you can," Sukuna said from the floor, still chuckling. "You love it here."
…Unfortunately, you did.
A year of living together had turned your life into something straight out of a fever dream.
You and Sukuna had somehow become homebodies, which was insane considering who he was. This man? This walking felony? Sukuna, who had zero patience, zero chill, no one would believe it. But it was true.
He hated people. Hated the outside world. Hated how easily he could get into trouble the second he stepped out. So, the logical solution? Stay home. With you.
And that meant you two were together all the time.
Which meant things got… worse.
Because somehow, in this lawless household, showering together just became normal.
The first time was absolute chaos.
Sukuna had walked into the bathroom like it was his goddamn name on the lease(it is), ripped the curtain open, and just stood there.
"Move over," he said, stepping in before you could even scream.
"SUKUNA, WHAT THE FU—"
"Relax," he interrupted, completely unbothered as he grabbed the soap. "Not like I haven’t seen you naked before."
That was not the point.
But by now, a year in, you’d both fully lost any sense of normal boundaries. You weren’t sure if it was concerning or just inevitable. Either way, showering together became part of your routine.
If you thought Sukuna was clingy before, you hadn’t seen anything.
This man was grumpy and needy and mean about it. He was like a cat—if the cat was six-foot-something, built like a god, and had an attitude problem.
And now he expected you to be just as comfortable as him.
Clothes? He didn’t allow it. If he had to be naked, then so did you. It was a demand.
One time, you tried to wear panties to bed.
Big mistake. Sukuna took one look, scoffed, and yanked them off.
"You disrespect me by wearing these?" He scowled, tossing them across the room. "What happened to our bond?"
You gawked at him. "Our bond???"
He stomped his foot like a child. "Our naked bond."
You wanted to punch him in his perfect face.
At some point, groping and fondling were just part of his daily activities. You’d be minding your own business, and suddenly—bam!—his huge hands would be on your ass, your thighs, anywhere he pleased.
You just had to accept your fate.
-----
Tonight felt hotter than usual. The AC was on, but Sukuna still ran hot like a furnace, his body always warm, always clinging to yours like you were his personal cooling pad.
You were lying on his bed, legs tangled together, watching some dumb movie that neither of you were actually paying attention to. Well, you were watching it. Sukuna? He had his face buried in your chest, lazily sucking, biting, and playing with your tits like he had nothing better to do.
His hands had been there for the past hour. Just tugging, kneading, rolling your nipples between his fingers while he sucked on the other. Sometimes he did it to mess with you, but other times, like now, he was just doing it because he wanted to.
He wasn’t even hard at first. He just liked it. But then his hips started moving. His heavy, warm body shifted, pressing against you, his breathing getting deeper, lazier. You felt the slow drag of him rutting against your thigh, the soft groan he let out against your skin when he realized how good it felt.
He didn’t ask. He never did. He just did things, like flipping you onto your stomach whenever he wanted to touch you somewhere else, like now.
You barely reacted, unlocking your phone again. He wasn’t expecting anything. He just needed to get it out of his system.
His big hands spread you out, gripping your hips as he pressed his aching dick between your thighs, grinding slow and deep, dragging against your soft skin.
This was normal.
It had always been like this.
Sometimes he’d just take your tits, push them together, and rut against them right in your face, groaning about how good you felt, how soft you were. His cock would be dripping onto your skin, leaking, twitching, leaving a mess.
And You just let him.
Because at this point, what else were you supposed to do?
-----
he had a fixation with your private parts. sometimes, when he was bored, he would just spread your legs and inspect you, moving you around like you were some kind of experiment. he'd touch, poke, even flick your clit just to see what would happen, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
it wasn't even always sexual for him. sometimes he just wanted to look. like a scientist studying something fascinating, except he had no shame, no boundaries, no filter. he'd hum, tilt his head, maybe even mumble something to himself about how pretty it was, how soft, how warm.
and then there was his other habit—using you as his personal pillow. if your head was on his lap, you already knew what was coming.
his soft dick, resting against your cheek like it belonged there. he'd press it against your face, poke your lips with the tip, laughing when you scrunched your nose or smacked him away.
sometimes, when he was feeling particularly annoying, he'd press it down on your face, dragging the heavy weight of it over your skin, smearing precum across your cheek, down your chin, onto your chest.
and he thought it was hilarious.
"look at you," he'd snicker, holding your jaw still so he could really rub it in. "you look cute like this, all messy."
he'd push it against your lips just to see what you'd do, eyes glinting with amusement when you glared at him, refusing to react the way he wanted.
but that only made him want to do it more.
----
The one habit of Sukuna’s that you absolutely hated was his smoking. And sure, he was trying to quit—except he’d been saying that for months. On summer nights, it was unbearable, the thick haze of smoke clinging to the air, seeping intoyour sheets, your lungs. With no other light in the room except the distant glow of the city, you finally gave up and slid out of bed, sprawling out on the cold floor, pressing your stomach against the tiles. The chill against your overheated skin was instant relief, your nipples practically sighing in gratitude.
"I'm gonna quit, I promise," he muttered, the cigarette still hanging between his fingers. He had the audacity to say it while still smoking.
You just hummed, not even bothering to argue anymore.
A few minutes later, he stubbed it out and, to your absolute horror, decided to join you on the floor. But instead of laying next to you like a normal person, his big ass stretched out on top of you, completely pinning you down. You struggled under him, whining, but that only made him laugh, pressing even more of his weight onto you. Sadistic bastard loved watching you squirm.
After a while, he started massaging your back, his massive hands kneading your shoulders, your spine, working out knots you didn’t even know you had. You hated to admit how good it felt, his rough hands surprisingly gentle. But, of course, this was Sukuna—he never did anything without an ulterior motive.
Because soon enough, you could feel it. His cock, warm and heavy, resting against your ass. And the more he worked his hands over you, the more aware you became of it, especially when he shifted, dragging himself against you, slow and lazy.
It was barely even conscious, just him falling into habit, but before long, he was grinding against you outright, huffing against your shoulder as he used the plush of your ass to get off.
"Fuck," he muttered, half to himself, rutting against you like some dumb animal, rubbing his slick cock over your bare skin, smearing pre-cum wherever he wanted.
He really had ruined you
---------
i'm trying to get comfortable writing smut and stuff let me know if u like it 🤍🤍
because i don’t want to be in anyone’s arms but yours.
your ex boyfriend, sukuna is used to you patching him after games—with you no longer in his life, he can feel his skin start to crawl with you so out of reach. that is until his nephew, yuji, decides to give you a call. ⸝⸝ art :: @/679sinner ⸝⸝ cw :: panic attacks
sukuna could feel his heart trying to thump out of his chest while the referee raised his arm to declare his win. he'd won, again and again, time after time, so why'd it feel so worthless now? he could feel the cut on his lip, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue while a sense of dread settled in his stomach.
because this time around, it wouldn't be a familiar pair of arms cupping his face, it wouldn't be you gently trying to dress his wounds, it'd have to be a blur of different medics and nurses taking care of him. and the very thought had his stomach lurching.
the scent of iodine hit him first—something he never paid attention to while he rushed in the medic's ward, he was used to making a beeline towards you, with his head immediately resting in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent until his mind finally clears. sukuna ryomen no longer had that privilege.
he sat on one of the beds, his wounds getting treated and for a second he felt like crawling out of his skin. because it felt wrong, having someone else see him like this after his matches, dressing his wounds, a job that was once dearly yours, watching them move their hands on him, he could feel pits forming in his stomach.
he wanted to bite something—yell, scream, shove the nurse off of him, absolutely anything to have her stop touching his skin.
and it was unfair—it'd been months since he talked to you so why was getting bad now? he ruined this in the first place, avoiding you, trying to recklessly ruin the relationship because he didn't think he deserved you. it was his fucking fault to begin with.
and it only started to flood his brain now, how his entire world revolved around you, how you were basically everywhere—in the seat that you always sat at when he fought, in the ward when he finished a fight, and in the corner of the room, talking to his friends, laughing with a drink in hand like tomorrow was always promised to the two of you.
"fuck."
"sorry, did that sting, sir?" the nurse was sitting up, moving the cotton swab away from his face, her eyes filled with concern, and for a second if sukuna shut his eyes he could've pretended it was you.
he simply grunted in response, holding onto the wall and pulling himself together.
"we're done here, right?" he could barely get the words out, his heart starting to beat a mile a minute while he tried to push through, making a beeline for his car before jamming his keys in and driving back home.
he barely acknowledged yuji on the couch, collapsing in his room the second he walked in, trying to level his breathing desperately while the room started to close in on him.
your presence still lingered—it always did, the way you'd dim the lights, the way the smell of your shampoo would stay on the pillows, now the place smelled too clean. his life was scrubbed clean of you, the sheets were white, your books and figurines were no longer littered around his place and all of it felt so wrong.
his brain was running a mile a minute, trying to reach for any remnants of your presence in the room, barely noticing yuji walk into his room.
"uncle are you okay..?" it sounded like he was walking on ice, and sukuna's breath hitched in his throat, choking on his own words while trying to answer.
"i'm fine, yuji, get out of my room."
it's almost as if he was helpless without you. because, you, oh you always knew what to do—pulling him closer to your chest, wrapping your arms around him while he forgot about the outside world, but now he was by himself.
stuck in a room that was barebones, tangled in sheets where you once lay, choking on his own saliva while the walls of the massive room moved closer, his lungs barely working, his skin itching in the exact spots the nurse had treated, tempting him to itch them until they bled, just anything to get his body to stop trembling like a leaf.
he tried to stop dissociating, holding onto the sheets, trying to execute the things his therapist had taught him, but fuck, it was harder to focus the more his vision blurred and blacked out, he could barely overhear yuji dialing your number.
—
"hey y/n?" yuji sounded panicked, it'd been months since he tried to call you, ever since sukuna.
"yeah, yuji what's wrong?" you asked, because yuji only ever called when sukuna was in trouble.
"it's sukuna again, do you think you could—."
"i'm on my way."
because no matter what happened, some things never changed, and the only person who could drag sukuna's mind back was you, it always had been you. and that would never change.
—
you were there in a flurry, speeding through the roads before barging in, still holding onto the copy of the keys you had to his place.
"where is he."
yuji pointed in the direction of his room, watching you almost sprint there.
"ryo."
you could see him snap out of it, jolting up almost immediately the second he heard you, staring at you with his pupils dialating like a prey animal while you inched closer to him.
"it's been a while, huh?" you tried to make things seem lighthearted, seating yourself at the edge of your bed before he moved you closer to him, moving you onto his lap and crushing you in his arms, wrapping them around your waist until it was almost suffocating but after months, sukuna felt safe.
his eyes were already brimming with tears, with your hands reaching to run your fingers through your hair, with his head rested on the crook of your neck, flipping you over until he was laying on top of you.
his mind was still a fucked up mess, his wounds barely treated his mind just fixated on how he lost you—he could barely believe you were here with him now, holding him like you used you, your expression kind and calm, he had to hold onto you tight enough to make sure you were real. that you were actually here.
he was sniffling against you, clinging to you like a child, the choked sobs leaving his throat while he held onto you.
"i guess some things don't change, ryo."
"don't leave."
"w—what?"
"don't leave again. i'll be good this time, i swear. i'll do everything right, i can't risk losing you again."
and in all the time you'd known sukuna, that was the most genuine he'd ever been. and that scared the living shit out of you. but, there was nothing to lose, right?
did i lose my edge u guys. guys.
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
Pairing: Cowboy!SatoSugu x Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)
Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass boyfriend and pimp offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that you were counting on this and it is only a small part of your plan to get what you desire.
But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them for a bounty hunt, will you successfully be able to go through with the rest of your deed? Or will the gunslingers have more of a hold on your frosted heart than you think?
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse/Time Period AU (Western AU); Slightly Historical Accurate lol; Outlaw!SatoSugu x Outlaw!Reader; Adventure/Romance/Action; Poly!SatouSugu; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Guy on Guy; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PIV; Creampies; Outdoor/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare; JJK Character Cameos; Love Triangle Trope
Word Count: TBA
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: Howdy, y'all!! I'm back with another story for y'all lovely people! I wrote this fanfic about a year ago & loved it so much that I decided to revise & revamp it. I felt that I wrote the other one too fast so I wanted to take my time to correct any grammar mistakes & flex my new writing skills lol. I hope y'all like this one! It's one of the MANY works I've got coming this summer 😘😘 -Jazz
Credits: Fanart in collage by aransmind! Divider made by @chachachannah & @viviansturns!
The Gunslingers are a match made in heaven and Hell.
Handsome, charming, and deadly.
They are known for their impressive yet terrifying speed when it comes to cocking and shooting their guns. You’ve heard of them killing all kinds of wanted criminals and even other gunslingers in other counties. Everyone knows them…and so do you.
If a record was playing, the damn thing would be scratching by now with the way the saloon reacts to seeing the gunslingers in the flesh. Whispers begin to rise from the silence, including from Yuki, Mai, and Maki who have wandered over. “Oh, my God,” Mai gasps. “It’s the Gunslingers!”
“What the hell are they doin’ here?” Maki wonders aloud, peering at them from behind her spectacles. “Are they lookin’ for someone? I thought they’d been arrested!”
And they were, last year. At some point, the articles of criminals, corporation owners, and high rollers found dead with bullets in them and a note from “G & G” left at the scene stopped when they were arrested after that train heist. And you know it has everything to do with your boss.
“Who cares?” Yuki dreamily sighs as she stares at the gunslingers with heart eyes. “I get to admire them in person now! Aren’t they delicious?”
“Keep it in your pants, Yuki,” Choso grumbles, tugging on a lock of the blonde’s hair as she giggles. “They ain’t even all that.”
“Of course not,” Yuki purrs, making Choso blush. “Not above you, Chosi, but a cowboy hat would do you so well!”
Even you will admit that the “wanted dead or alive” posters don’t do them justice: they are fine as all hell, straight out of a woman’s wet dreams. But they are also outlaws. And you despise outlaws…for personal reasons.
The duo begins to look around the silent saloon, Gojo’s head slowly turning despite his blindfold. When his head turns toward you, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your very lungs. Despite the fabric covering his eyes, you feel as if he sees you. All of you.
Gojo nudges Geto with his elbow before waltzing over to the bar, his boots thudding across the hardwood floor. Geto follows, ignoring the whispers and stares in his wake. The piano has begun to pick up again, but it does nothing to ease the tension swimming in the air. Quickly, you turn to face your drink while the girls scatter to work, leaving you to fend for yourself.
Geto sits on the stool beside you while Gojo takes the one beside him. You feel the air around you become stiff and tense as the outlaws settle into their seats. “So what’s a cowboy gotta do to get a drink round here?” Gojo asks with a smirk. “Can ya help a guy out, miss?”
He gives Shoko a flirty look, not knowing that this girl is gay as hell. “I could damn sure try,” she replies, barely giving him a smile. “What will you fellas have?”
“I’ll take a Long Island iced tea,” Gojo says then laughs. “Just kiddin’! A beer, please.”
Geto takes a moment to examine the shelves of alcohol behind Shoko. He then looks at your pretty drink. “I’ll take what the lady is havin’,” he answers. “Actually, what is that you got there, miss?”
His dark, enchanting eyes meet yours and you ignore the butterflies they invoke inside of you. “Whiskey smash,” you blandly reply. He hums thoughtfully at the name. “Hm…is it good?”
You tick your eyes at him briefly, secretly admiring his features. “If you like your whiskey with some sweetness to it, sure.”
A slow smirk appears on his face. “Oh, I definitely do,” he drawls. “I like sweetness with my everything.”
You swallow hard, sure you have a cherry pit in your throat. Gojo chuckles from beside his partner, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “Oooh, me too. I’ll third that, ma’am!” Shoko nods and shoots you a look before wandering off to fix the drinks.
You do your best to keep calm and act normal, sipping your drink and trying to relax. At some point, the silence becomes thicker, prompting one of the gunslingers to speak on it. “Welcomin’ place,” Gojo sniggers. “I feel so at home.” Geto quietly chuckles from between you and Gojo. “Let’s just settle this, Satoru. We won’t be here long.”
‘Settle what?’ you wonder, but you know that they are here for Kento. Shoko comes back with the frothy, red drinks, lowering them in front of the gunslingers.
“Thank you kindly,” Gojo chirps before taking a sip. Geto nods his thanks but doesn’t drink his right away. Instead, he goes into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and slides it across the bar to Shoko. “I don’t suppose you know who this guy is.”
You peek down at the paper, finding it to be a “Wanted” poster with your boyfriend and boss looking back at you. Kenzo aka “Valentine” looks much different than when you met him. On the poster, he is clean and shaven, has longer, shaggier hair, and has a distinguished scar on his left eye.
But of course, this is the gunslinger who robbed people blind and just pulled a train heist and massacre in the town of Cherrywood a year before with his crew, Geto, and Gojo. The man who takes his place now is “Kenzo”, a humble saloon owner who sometimes dabbles in illegal activity to fund his saloon.
Valentine, a criminal on the lam and your outlaw boyfriend, is known for using his looks, charm, and violence to get what he wants. He is a man who loves money, women, and jewels. As a notorious criminal and outlaw, he has bounced from place to place, county to county, robbing folks and then laying low before starting again.
He was arrested for robbing the Cherrywood regional train and having his crew massacre all its riders before you met him. Originally, he was given a fifty-year sentence but escaped after serving five weeks just by seducing a prison guard and then knocking him out to steal the cell keys.
You were hot on his trails when he showed up in Blackwater a year later and met you in a whorehouse that you purposely took a job in since he frequented it. He took one look at you and immediately fell in love with you (and your body), proposing you a job at his saloon. “You could be mine,” he told you. “My girl.” You agreed and the rest is history.
“I’ve heard of him, yeah,” Shoko replies as she cleans a glass.
“Is it possible you’ve seen him around?” Geto ponders aloud. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but he escaped Cherrywood a year ago after robbin’ a train and massacrin’ everyone on it. He’s wanted in about nine different counties.”
Shoko takes another brief look at the poster before someone flags her down from the end of the bar. Saved by the bell. “I can’t say I have seen him, fellas,” she apologetically says. “‘Scuse me.”
She hurries off, leaving you with the two cowboys. “How ‘bout you, ma’am?” Geto asks, passing the poster to you. “You recognize this face by any chance?”
You look down, studying Valentine’s face. You have, but first, you need to read these guys. “I’ve seen him in the posters, but not in person. May I ask why you two are here?”
You keep it casual and curious, making sure you don’t sound too suspicious. “We were paid by a private source to track down Valentine for his crimes,” Geto vaguely explains.
“And for personal business,” Ghetto adds with a smirk. “You see, we were in, uh…business with Valentine some time ago and never got our cut.” He doesn’t need to go into anymore detail than that. You know exactly what he’s talking about.
“We don’t like bein’ played with,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, sending a chill down your spine. “Or when someone’s money is funny, so we came here to exchange words with him.”
‘Words or bullet?’ you want to ask, but you instead bite your tongue and sip your drink.
“We’ve been told he was last seen in this town,” Geto explains. “We figured everyone comes to saloons so why not check here?” He slides the poster away from you, a kind yet flirty smile crossing his beautiful face. “But even if he isn’t, we can still enjoy a drink with a pretty lady.”
You roll your eyes, having heard that line before. “Does that line work with all the girls?” you scoff. Gojo coughs up his whiskey as he laughs, but Geto doesn’t take it to heart. In fact, he chuckles. “I see not with you,” he replies.
“I like that,” Gojo states once he’s recovered, his blindfolded eyes set dead on you. “You’ve gotta be the first person who isn’t scared of us or tryin’ to jump in bed with us.”
You passively shrug, twirling your tongue around the rim of the glass. “I’ve been ‘round gunslingers in my time.”
At this, the duo share a look unbeknownst to you, quite interested in the pretty thing sitting with them at the bar. “Oh, really?” Gojo drawls and you realize your mistake. “Any of these encounters you’d care to share, little lady? I’m quite interested.”
Geto nods, his gaze like molten fire. “I am too.”
You suddenly feel your mouth grow dry and your cheeks become hot. Your body reacts in a way it never has with any man you’ve been with, not even Eren, your first love!
The way they continue to stare at you, giving you their undivided and unwanted attention, is even worse. What is wrong with you?
Luckily, your boss comes to the rescue, barreling up to the bar like he wasn’t watching the duo from afar and shaking in his boots. “Oh, gentlemen!” he shouts, giving them both a hard, eager handshake. “Welcome, welcome! Can I offer you two another drink or a dance free of charge?”
Gojo ignores him like he isn’t even talking, leaving Geto to handle this. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, plastering on a kind smile. “We’re here for some information about him.” He passes Kenzo the poster and you watch in real time as the color in your boyfriend’s face drains.
“Have you seen this guy anywhere?” Geto asks, squinting at him. Gojo peers at him from under his hat, his stare intense even with the blindfold. Kenzo clears his throat and leans in to whisper to Geto. You pretend to ignore them though you secretly strain to hear. “Let’s talk in private,” he whispers. “Even the walls have ears, I’m afraid.”
Geto nods and nudges Gojo who sighs and downs the rest of his drink. To your shock, Geto puts a hand out to you for a shake. Though hesitantly, you take his hand and feel the room grow hotter than a sauna when he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.
“It was a pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am,” he softly says. “Hopefully, we’ll cross paths again.”
His eyes gleam as he tips his hat at you, leaving Gojo to follow Kenzo upstairs. Gojo doesn’t follow right away, instead digging into his pocket for some coins and placing them on the bar in front of you. “For your drink,” he says with a wink. “Have a good night, little miss.”
Then, just like Geto, he leaves as if he didn’t just steal the air you breathe with it.
Synopsis. Five times Gojo Satoru - your self-proclaimed biggest fanboy, your #1 stan, your hottest - makes his delusions of you everyone else’s problem (step on him), and the one time he proves that even the most delusional, dirtiest of fantasies really do come true (still, step on him).
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!idol!reader, fanboy!Gojo, 5 + 1 things, he’s down BAD, stan Twitter, social media, fandoms, headIines, parasociaIism, shenanigans, slight crackfic, YEARNING Gojo, pússydrúnk Gojo, face-sítting, fíngering, he goes feraI, spíttíng, P TALKING, manhandIing, first times (his), matíng presses, he’s your fan with a big D, fitting it, rough s, chokíng, cervíx kíssing, sensitive Gojo, slight switch dynamic, creampíes, mentions of kids, overstím, happy ending, hard launching, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 13.9k
A/N. Babygirls would y’all believe that I was deep in the trenches of stan Twitter for fandoms I’m not even in gathering research for this for weeks…
Gojo Satoru is having the worst day of his entire life.
The worst day out of all the long, arduous, handsome (exceptionally handsome, he’d been voted ‘Most Likely to Grace a Vogue Cover’ three years in a row) eighteen years of his entire life.
For starters, their prank (plastering the hallway with the worst shots from Principal Yaga’s abstract dance lessons: Mean Girls-style) had been caught-in-the-act by none other than Yaga himself.
And Geto had somehow slipped away from Yaga’s rage (it’d been his idea- that bastard…) And he’d just lost his spot as valedictorian to Shoko (she cheated, he just can’t prove it.) And! On his way walking back home from detention, the convenience store was out of his favorite kikufuku mochi.
So all in all, for the worst day of his entire life, Gojo Satoru thinks he was handling it quite well-
He slams his hand down on the counter, “I’m going to kill mysel-”
And that’s the first time he hears it.
Your voice.
Not in front of him. Not behind him. Not even anywhere around him. It was - quite fittingly - emanating from above him, as if the heavens themselves had split open, and the first sign of the pearly gates was the voice of an angel.
You.
Gojo instantly darts his gaze to where the wiry, bespectacled cashier was staring to avoid eye contact with whom he likely thought to be a madman. A rather cheap device, with rather cheap graphics. A box with the most beautiful voice.
The first spark of elation today.
It sung to him, almost like a siren.
“I-it’s the leading contestant—eek!” The cashier says, and cowers in fear once Gojo’s azure gaze snaps to him in a split-second. Unwavering. Intense.
As the young man trembles, Gojo reads the name tag on his uniform: Ijichi. Huh? That name almost sounded familiar, was it perhaps a long lost friend? Some obscure family member? He looks at the man again, maybe not. Or perhaps…
“We go to the same school.” Ijichi sighs, when it becomes obvious that Gojo was furrowing his pale brows at the name tag. “I’m two years below you, but we had extended maths together. I sat next to you?” Again, that knit between the other’s eyebrows only grows deeper. “Also you plastered one of Yaga’s pictures on my backpack today.” He adjusts his glasses, “And my face.”
Recognition floods Gojo’s face, and he snaps his fingers. “Ahhh, I remember you now- yeah, sorry about that.”
“I-it’s alright! It was an accident.” Ijichi pauses. “I think.”
“Heh…” Pointedly, the white-haired of the two doesn’t answer that question. Instead, he’s turning his eyes back to the television above Ijichi, ravenous not to miss a single second.
The cashier follows, more easy-going now without any additional customers or managers there to keep him moving. He could afford to ask, “Ah- her. Do you watch idol competition shows often? I didn’t expect that of you, Gojo-senpai.”
“Excuse me?”
“I-I mean-” Ijichi waves his hands fervently in front of him in explanation, “It’s just- those shows really do target a certain demographic and- I just didn’t quite expect it with your…oh, but it has been g-getting popular these days so I don’t know what I’m saying-”
“I don’t.” Gojo admits, cutting through the other’s blubbering. He crosses his arms in front of him and aims to look as dignified as possible as he admires the lil’ dance you were doing as you sang. “It’s just…”
And he almost felt stupid asking this- hell, he almost felt fucking shy (which is impossible, Gojo Satoru is never shy). But he does so anyways—
Holding his head high. Index pointing straight at the blurry screen. Pixels which would not hide your beauty.
“Who’s that?”
“Th-that?” Ijichi turns his head back towards the television, and his face breaks out into a dopey smile - Gojo doesn’t even know why it irritated him so much. After all, that was exactly how he felt, too.
So why the hell was another smiling at you like this-
That’s when Ijichi says your name.
And any and all annoyances with the other man simply melts. Simply turns the insides of his chest all warm and gooey. Simply leaves him a little weak in the knees (and he was damn glad that his lower half was obscured by the counter).
Gojo repeats your name, like he was tasting it.
“Stage name: Cupid.” Ijichi continues, watching you dance about the screen now, as well. “She’s been a fan favorite since her audition, even though producers did do a bit of dirty editing to try and make her unpopular- fans saw right through it. And now she’s been in the lead for weeks.”
“Talented.” Gojo grits out - one word. Perhaps the only word that wouldn’t make him positively shatter that nonchalant façade of his and embarrass himself in front of fucking Ijichi of all people.
He nods at the vocal break you were continuing on-screen, your gentle lashes fluttering shut as you put your all into a song that seemed to be of your own make. You nail the note. He trembles. “Though I’ve…seen better.” Lies.
“She has come a long way.” Ijichi hums, eyes closing as he savors the music. It was the last few chords, perfectly in harmony. “She’s the fan-favorite to win the contract from executives, expected to debut sometime next year.”
“Ah- another idol then.” His throat remains parched with his own lies, growing dryer by the seconds of your voice. Your dance. Your presence. “Talented, though…” You finish off your final belt, and Gojo can only repeat, stupidly. Nonchalant, nonchalant. C’mon Satoru, you can do this.
Gojo shuffles, “So uh- what’s the show name?”
“Idol Academy.” The black-haired man answers, “New episodes air every week at 9PM.”
Scratching behind his back—nonchalant. “Ah, I’ll let my sister know-” You fool! You don’t even have a sister! And only too late does Gojo realize that Ijichi seems to realize this as well, “I mean- uh, Shoko…who is like a sister to me. I’ll let her know- and maybe I’ll check it out, too- if I have the time. Probably won’t though.” Nonchalant! Nailed it!
Ijichi nods, and he looks away from your finished performance. “Well, if you want to vote for her for the upcoming finals then her number is #143.”
“Ah, we’ll see…probably…won-” Except, for idols, a finished performance isn’t really a finished performance at all. Nonchalant! Nonchalant!
Because then there’s the ending fairy—you with your bright smile directed at the camera, your arms moving behind you as if you were drawing back a bow and arrow. Pop! The arrow embeds…deep into his heart. “I’m going to marry her.”
Gojo pauses after his confession.
Ijichi pauses after his confession.
It seems the world pauses after his confession.
Everyone but you (which made sense you were practically out of this world), who nodded along to the comments that the judges were giving you. As you walk off the screen, Gojo practically leans over the counter to watch your every step- and even your steps past the television frame-
Ijichi reaches up to turn off the television.
So nonchalant.
“Gojo-senpai…” He starts, and this time it’s Gojo that cowers at the way his schoolmate was looking at him.
Before he knows it, there’s the smack! of something being plastered on his face. Flat and glossy. Colors bursting even behind his scrunched-up eyelids.
A…poster.
“Her official poster.” There’s more than just a little amusement in Ijichi’s tone as he watches Gojo rip the paper off of his face and stare down lovingly at your own, right in the middle of it. Smiling a smile that seems to be just for him (nevermind the fact that this had once been Ijichi’s poster). “9PM on Channel 8, #143. Don’t let her down.”
Gojo would vote for you like his life depended on it.
That night, he went home and created a second Twitter account for himself.
@thestrongestfanboy: Voting for Cupid #143 on Idol Academy and u should too or else (҂` ﾛ ´)凸
@Fushidaddy replying to @thestrongestfanboy: already voted, youre late to the club lmao.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy: Blocked.
Liked by @CupidOfficial.
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@MnetIdolAcademy: ANNOUNCING THE OFFICIAL DEBUT LINE, CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR RISING GLOBAL STARS!
[GLOBAL VOTE FINAL RESULTS]
RANK #1—Cupid
(Read more)
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.
And he did.
From his phone, his laptop, his mother’s phone, his father’s phone- Geto’s phone, Shoko’s phone (where he found a copy of the last test paper’s marking scheme—he knew that little con-woman cheated, he feared for her future patients). Until, ultimately, you did win the competition.
Just as he’d wanted you to.
And Ijichi as well, he supposes. But he is younger (at least, visibly) and more beautiful - therefore Gojo thinks it should count more.
And so you swept every award in the reality competition, and snagged center spot in every headline, concert, and fan account that was ready to feature the freshly-minted popstar.
Almost two years later, by the time that your official debut had come ‘round with a hit single and an album that was climbing the charts, he’d just entered his first year in university. And by then, practically everyone in his life knew by now that he was a sort of…stan. Gojo accepted the title begrudgingly, after Geto and Shoko had walked into his newly-acquired dorm room one day and found every inch of his walls covered in your posters. There was a life-sized cardboard cut-out of you underneath his bed, too, but thankfully they hadn’t found that yet.
Geto threatened to strangle him until he took down the posters of you on his side of the room, at least. They were sharing, after all.
The room was appreciated on stan Twitter, at least. His latest post about it racked up a solid 992.1k views.
@thestrongestfanboy: New room pic!! Can u guess my ultimate bias, bet u can’t^^ \(★ω★)/
Attached was a picture that he’d forgone every single rule and regulation about internet safety to post: from the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, to the cardboard cut-out of you, to the plushie of your cupid character, to the American flag with your face on it (why always the American flag for these things, he wasn’t sure), to the rare photocards that he was holding up for the camera. It was a shrine.
The replies…not so much.
@pinkillit: Lemme guess…Cupid? Lol so real, I luv her too!
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @pinkillit: Well I love her more than u so…(￢_￢;)
@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Damn
@gggggnarly: WOAH??
@hearts2hurts: I can’t even send hate, this is impressive ngl.
@utahimeslefttoe: need to do this with my bias
@lovelicky: Parasocialism, who?
@yuuthebaddie: You scare the huzz
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I don’t need the huzz when I have my queen #thearrowhitme (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)
@Fushidaddy7 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: kinda wish I could hit you rn too #fakefan
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy7: ??? Blocked.
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Don’t u think it’s kinda problematic to be pushing 40 and arguing with minors online?
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: youre 19 tf are you talking about?? and also because you claim the arrow hit you, but you don’t even have her rare “First Love, First Kiss” photocard. youre no better than a local lol.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: U seriously think ur a bigger fan than me? I was there since even before our girl debuted. Lmao.
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i was there before she even entered the show- and yes. i am.
That particular scathing reply wasn’t over with just that, and Gojo had realized - clicking on the notification, to his slowly-growing horror - that it would be accompanied by a picture, as well. A snapshot to a room that looked much like his own.
From the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, a selfie with you at a rookie fanmeet before (dammit) you’d entered the competition, the cardboard cut-outs, the plushies, the flags, the rare photocards. And yes…the ultra-rare ‘First Love, First Kiss’ photocard that he’d last heard went for a comfortable few hundred dollars on the market.
With you costumed like a sweet, sweet cupid.
Sparkling eyes. Angel wings. Holding up the second button from the top of a school uniform - a symbol of confession in Japan - as if you were confessing to someone.
To him.
Gojo’s giggling stupidly and kicking his feet on the bed as he zooms in on the picture, taking in your picture on the photocard- before his phone buzzes with yet another Twitter notification and his heart plummets as he realizes just whose room this is. Fushidaddy8 himself could be seen reflected on the lone mirror in the room: scarred lips smirking, his beefy arms raised in a flex, biceps the size of Gojo’s head—
@pinkillit: He kinda ate you up ngl.
Ignoring that, he responded to the aforementioned perpetrator.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Well I’m going to marry her!! Hope that helps!! ╮(︶▽︶)╭
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: delulu really isn’t the trululu kid
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: That trend’s dead, unc.
Though he did slide into the other man’s direct messages right after that, in the hopes of buying out the exclusive photocard from him.
He was laughed all the way out of his direct messages.
Gojo Satoru did several things next.
He blocked (and reported) @Fushidaddy8.
He subscribed for a gym membership.
He dragged Geto out of their shared dorm room (sleep-deprived and grumbling at the 3:41AM on the clock, bound to miss the important physics exam that day…semantics, heh) as moral support on his trek to the post office. Where, when his best friend shivered at the cold early morning and questioned just what and to whom were they mailing, Gojo had answered-
“Oh, just my second button.” The very same one that he’d kept safely since their graduation from high school a few months ago - because, see, Gojo Satoru wasn’t the type to fall in love.
He wasn’t the type to confess.
Though, he did get confessed to more times that he could count (he was perhaps the second most popular bachelor on campus, right after Geto - but even that was a highly-debated ranking of first and second). He just never found the one.
That is…
Gojo beams, plastering on a few stamps on the cardboard box- much too big for but a single button. In it, he poured his feelings—corny, yes. But true. “I’m going to send it to my girl, Cupid-”
Geto punches him before he can finish.
@thestrongestfanboy: The lion does not concern himself with the pain that comes with #truelove, even if he cried a little ☆⌒(> _ <)
@Fushidaddy9 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmao loser.
Just a few months later, another one of your limited edition photocards was released: the “Said Yes!!” photocard that sold out instantly. Just the cutest photo of you receiving a second button in confession, your expression one of pleasant surprise.
No one believed Gojo when they told them that the button was his.
He bought five.
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@BuzzFeed: Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who’s The Biggest Fanboy of Them All? Cupid’s Fandom Compare Notes on Fanboy Shrines and 35 Other Delulu Stan Happenings This Week.
(Read more on buzzfeed.com)
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Gojo Satoru had bought 67 albums.
67…heh.
Sixty-seven different copies of the very same album—yours.
Sixty-seven different copies of the latest addition in your platinum-reaching, Grammy award-winning discography: the ‘Obsession’ album.
Of course, they’re all yours. Because who else would have such banger songs that he wouldn’t mind replaying over and over again until Geto threatened to smash the damn things? Who else would have exclusive photocards so cute stuffed into the crevices of said albums, that he just had to collect them all? Who else would host a fancall event that he simply had to put a dent in his sizable bank account to win?
It was somewhat of a lottery system, and Gojo’s sure he’d funded his local record store for a few months at least with how much he’d cashed out there.
He’d been up bright n’ early on the day your album hit the stores - camping outside with a few avid others of your fandom (though, proudly, he’d been the first one there). Rushing with the rest to buy up your album, your merch, and with it…a chance to see you.
Every album bought was an entry into the raffle that’d grant them a chance to see you.
Just a few minutes of your time through the screen, and even that was like looking through the pearly gates of heaven in Gojo’s eyes. He’d dreamt about it, he’d manifested it, he’d tweeted about it so many times on his private account that everyone but Haibara had blocked him on.
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I’M 22 NOW SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT (ಥ﹏ಥ)
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: LORD KNOWS IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I believe in you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@Fushidaddy27 replying to @HiByeRawr: dont
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV replying to @Fushidaddy27: How did u even get here??
And so, the wait had dragged on with a few more accounts blocked.
Until, finally, one day Gojo had been simply scrolling through his emails as he usually did. A few updates from Canvas on his assignment grades. A few A+’s. An email from Geto with nothing but one of those old pictures from Yaga’s abstract dance classes attached. A few more A+’s. An email from the record store saying he won the fancall event. Yet another picture of Yaga-
His heart had damn near stopped.
Actually- Gojo doesn’t think he was even breathing as he hurriedly scrolled back and clicked open the email from the record store. He reads the very first word—
“Congratulations…”
And that’s all he needs to stand up and cheer-
“Shhhh—!” The cryptid-like elderly librarian, Gakuganji, shushes him from just a few tables away. A glare so intense that it makes Gojo sit back down in his seat in an instant, ducking back down to stare at his phone screen.
Heart thundering. Fingers trembling. “Oh my god…” He whispers to himself, knees bouncing underneath the mahogany table as he’s clicking on the link embedded into the email.
It takes him to the official site of your management, where the list of winners had been announced on one page dedicated especially to you. And there - right at the very top - his name.
Gojo Satoru.
Censored, yes. But he could read it well enough - it was only confirmation of what he already knew through the email.
And as Gojo tries to tame his giddy elation inside the library, he forgoes those revision papers of his to instead tap away at his phone. First, he texts his parents. Then he texts his friends. Then he emails Nanamin (also one of his friends, but the man had him blocked everywhere else…)- and just as he caught sight of that winner’s email again, Gojo squeals—
“Out of my library!”
Later, Gojo Satoru was added to the campus library Wall of Shame (and Nuisances).
But he didn’t care.
Not one single bit.
@thestrongestfanboy: About to meet my future wife- how do I look? (￣▽￣*)ゞ
Attached was a selfie of him making your signature bow-and-arrow pose a few days later.
He was well-fitted in his best dress shirt that hugged his toned waist. Cologne practically palpable through the screen. Soft white bangs tamed. Donning a silver chain. False glasses on because he heard in one of your latest interviews that you liked nerds.
Cheeks rosy.
“Bro, isn’t the call for like two minutes?” Geto grumbles from his bed on the other side of the room. Their cramped dorm was already small enough without the other pacing every inch of it in nervousness.
Gojo whips around with a snarl, “No, for your information it’s actually two and a half minutes.”
Geto squints, “Right…” Before he raises his nose into the air and sniffs—“And god- what is that awful fucking smell?”
“You don’t like it?” His best friend asks innocently, “It’s my cologne.”
“There’s no way your cologne smells like that?” The dark-haired man gapes, leaning back in his bed as he covers his nostrils with a palm.
Geto already has his answer by the way that Gojo starts to squirm. “Well…I may have also added in a bit of your cologne, too…”
“…”
“And Nanamin’s.”
“…”
“And Shoko’s-”
“What the fuck, Satoru?” Geto slaps a hand over his forehead, in the way he much seemed to do when it came to an antic that Gojo did without his consultation (he means, c’mon, if they were to be dumb fucks then they should be dumb fucks together).
But this was too far even for him.
And Geto only sighs before he’s reaching for his heavy headphones, placing the cushioned device on top of his head. “After this, we’re taking you out to touch grass, man.” He opens his phone to something and blocks out Gojo’s whining protests with it. “I’m serious.”
“And I’m serious when I say you better not fuck this up for me, Suguru.” Gojo stabs an accusing finger at his best friend, while his other hand reaches for his own phone - the scheduled time for your video call was nearing. “Keep yourself scarce when she calls me.”
“Mhm, whatever you say.”
“Because she’s my future wife-”
“Crazy story, bro.”
With Geto not even close to responsive any longer, Gojo huffs as he looks through his notifications-
@Fushidaddy31: YOURE SO CHOPPED LMFAOOOOOOOO
Nevermind.
Instead, he waits in front of his desk. Phone propped up. Earbuds plugged in. Back straight against his chair. More formal and elegant than he had in any of his other meetings or lectures before.
He turns off his notifications and opens up the app that management had directed him to through emails. Pressing on the screen record button, Gojo’s stomach turns as a staff member performs an ID check before the call.
And then it starts.
Your beautiful, beautiful face pops up on the screen.
Those eyes. That smile. The voice that says, “Hello?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Gojo’s heart drops to his stomach then takes a high-speed elevator right back up to his throat, he can feel the ba-dump! of it there. And later - years and years later - he’ll be able to cringe at the way that his naturally deep voice broke- “H-he-”
Before your face pauses.
It freezes.
And suddenly the call ends.
wait…Gojo taps on his Wi-Fi…he taps on his data…he taps on anything and everything that might make a difference. And yet, nothing ever does. Gojo immediately throws down his earphones on his desk and stands- so fast that his chair topples over—“Suguru!”
The dark-haired man jolts in his bed, turning over at the shriek with his brows scrunched in confusion. Seeing the state his best friend was in, he raises his phone as a shield. “What?”
“Don’t what me- don’t- you- you—” So enraged that he couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. Face red. Veins popping on his neck. The only way that Geto manages to even slightly discern what the other man may be talking about is by the way he points at his phone, the shared Wi-Fi router, then his phone.
Geto’s mouth drops, “Ah…” And he catches sight of the orange, blinking right on the router that told the both of them that the day’s data has been finished. He looks at his phone…with the absolutely massive update that had just completed. “In my defense, Love and Deepspace had an update-”
“Suguru, I’m going to kill you.”
Ultimately, no amount of begging or crying to attempting to throttle Geto could reverse the fact that Gojo had won a fancall…and missed it.
All because of his Wi-Fi.
“There there, man.” Geto pats his friend - draped across his bed with his face in his hands - on the back. “At least the new event loaded- it’s an idol event, and I’ll let you play it with Sylus-”
Gojo only sobs louder.
“And then after that, we’ll actually go touch grass. How about that?”
@thestrongestfanboy: Nothing beats a Jet2 holiday to HELL. @DigiGeto ur going to HELL.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Mb
@Fushidaddy32: rare aesthetic: fancall with #her n made her do the coldplay kiss cam trend with me heh
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy32: Blocked.
@Fushidaddy32 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??
@CupidOfficial: So glad to be able to talk with my lovely fans during the fancall event today!! Thank you to everyone that attended, and even those that didn’t attend heheh…I see you, and I love you <33
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@Variety: This week’s cover story:
Global Superstar Cupid: On Stardom, Surprises of Fame, and the Undying Support of her Fans (“There was actually this funny story with a fan that froze—”)
(see page 9…)
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Gojo Satoru was on cloud nine.
Gojo Satoru was in heaven.
Gojo Satoru was going to meet his wife.
Everywhere he looked, he could see that beautiful face of yours.
From the floor-to-ceiling posters against the stark white walls, to the stalls upon stalls of merchandise that featured you, to the rows upon rows of people wearing t-shirts with your face on it. Posters. Plushies. Bow-and-arrow lights. Everything that his heart could ever yearn for.
And that included you.
And no- Gojo hadn’t died and gone to heaven (evidenced by the way that no matter how many times he pinched himself, it still bruised). Don’t be silly! He was simply at a place that was rather similar, he imagines.
A fanmeet.
Where the excitement was palpable, and everyone here had arrived with the same goal in mind - to spend just a few precious moments with you in person.
In person!
Geto was the one that’d snagged him the ticket to this event, to make up for the rather tragic incident with the fan call two years ago. And so here he was, at your first-ever fanmeet in Tokyo. Gojo vibrated on the balls of his feet, and with his towering height he could make out just a few more meters until he managed to see you up-close.
He held one of his most prized possessions - your first poster from Idol Academy, the one that Ijichi had gifted him so many years ago - to his chest and sighed. In less than an hour, he’d have it signed. In less than an hour, he’d get to hold your hand.
In less than an hour, he’d get to see you.
There was a part of him that felt like it was tugging towards you already- and Gojo has to bounce himself slightly to find a way to channel the adrenaline.
It’d been quite the arduous journey to get to here, and he didn’t want to make a single mistake now - all the albums he’d bought, all the pictures from your latest fanmeets that he’d fawned over, all the stan Twitter fights.
Honestly, just today he’d gotten into it with some delusional loser online (@urmomstype) that’d been spreading rumors about you being…particularly close with the famed actor you had in your newest music video. Gojo shudders as he thinks back to it:
@urmomstype: A thread of all the PROOFS that #Cupid is dating the hottest k-drama actor right now—
Inside was some amalgamated mess of pictures of ‘shared couples items’ (half the population owned that shit, c’mon, that actor was far from special) and coded messages that apparently littered your social media. By the end of it, the user had been self-assured, a few other misogynistic antis were spouting hate, and Gojo was furious.
He’d typed away so fast that his thumbs were nothing but a blur.
@thestrongestfanboy: U call this proof?? Holy fucking airball lmao (￣ヘ￣)
@thestrongestfanboy: Bozo
@thestrongestfanboy: Ratio + L + my fav is better than ur fav
@thestrongestfanboy: She isn’t dating anyone BOZO!! Even if she was (which she isn’t) it’s none of ur business and ur a loser so go back to doing loser things. I bet ur an anti from that one other agency…凸(`△´＃)
@Fushidaddy89 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: yk for once i agree with you
@urmomstype replying to @Fushidaddy89: Why are two uncs replying to me…arguing with a minor btw.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @urmomstype: With this gift I summon-
It had lasted a few hours (and that was on the shorter end of the stick). Until, ultimately, Geto and Shoko had pulled his phone away from his face (he was defending your honor!) and reminded him that there were much more important things on the horizon.
Namely, you…
Besides, he was glad to get away from the epic highs and lows of high school football stan Twitter. He was glad not to have to fight with what was likely some middle-aged, parasocial man there over you. He was glad not to get into futile shipping wars that-
“Do you think her actor boyfriend will be here?”
An agitating, grating voice breaks through his thoughts (really, it was the squeaky voice of a child), and Gojo’s immediately whipping his head down, down, down behind him.
It was a buzzcut boy, wearing a t-shirt with your face and a pair of soft feathery wings that was sold as one of your exclusive merchandise—and yet…those angelic appendages still wasn’t enough to hide the mischief in his face.
Gojo stares at him.
And he stares at Gojo.
“You.”
“You.”
As his blonde-haired guardian looks on in slight shock, Gojo stabs an index his way- “User urmomstype?”
“User thestrongestfanboy.” He then points at himself, “But you can call me Todo Aoi.” And before the older man can begin to sputter again, he raises a small palm to silence him (and why was Gojo being silenced by what looked like an eight-year-old?) “I already know who you are, Gojo Satoru. You’re infamous inside the fandom, y’know?”
He gapes, “I am?”
“Mhm.”
Before he starts twirling the curls of white at the base of his neck, Todo stares in bewilderment as the taller man starts squirming. “So like…d’you think that means there’s a chance she’d notice me, too?”
“…”
“…”
“F-forget that-”
“You really think you can pull fine shyt?” Todo squints up at Gojo, and then down at the sheer amount of merchandise he was draped in. “You’re chopped with a negative aura that no amount of aura farming could possibly replenish, brother. Your eyes are built like a 24k labubu. If you were a meal, even Fanum wouldn’t ask for tax. Even I’d win a mid-off against you. I hate to break it to you but she’s much better off with that actor-”
“Don’t think that just because you’re speaking in brainrot terms I don’t understand you- I’m brainrotted, too.” Seething, “And they’re not even dating-”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Definitely not!”
The little boy nods, sagely. “Still got the views for the music video, didn’t I? And what did you do? Whine about how you weren’t married to her yet?”
And to that he doesn’t have much to say, “Well…”
The blonde-haired woman that’d been holding Todo back finally announces her presence, “Hi there- apologies. My name’s Yuki.” She reached out her hand, and they shook - with Gojo dazed by the absolute demolishment of his character. “I’ve warned him about his ah- ragebaiting issue…it’s a work-in-progress.”
“I-I see…” Gojo breathes, looking back at the line - just a little longer and he’d be out of here. Just a little longer and he’d get to see you—“One question, I’m not actually chopped, am I?”
As Todo whispers the definition to Yuki, she shakes her head happily. “Oh, not at all! You’re not exactly my type, but trust that you’re quite the handsome character.”
“Handsome enough to pull my wife?” At her visible confusion, he jerks his head where your figure was seated at a black-clothed table, signing posters and making conversation with your line of fans. Oh- how perfect you were.
“O-oh! Her?” A line of sweat beads at her temple, “Well, why not?”
Gojo - quite maturely - sticks his tongue out at Todo.
But the boy only replies, “You look like you wear wigs.”
Gojo self-consciously runs a hand through his soft white hair, “I-I don’t!” He did take particularly good care of his hair.
“Do you wear wigs?”
“No, I do not-”
“Have you worn wigs?”
“No, I have not-”
“Will you wear wigs?”
“…Maybe?!”
“When will you wear wigs-”
“Please!”
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to step out.” A gruff, masculine voice speaks out from beside him- and it didn’t match Todo’s probing voice. Not at all. Gojo turns his surprised head around and finds himself face-to-face with a stony-faced man.
As tall as him. Even beefier. With shades that reflected his own widened blue eyes.
His jaw drops, “Wh-what…”
The security guard gestures to Todo, and then towards the door with the ‘Exit’ sign. “For your disruption, we’re going to have to ask you to step out of the premises.” He cracks his knuckles, “Or you shall be escorted out.”
“No-” Gojo’s gasping, looking around for an answer. “No no no no- disruption? What disruption?”
“Arguments with a child-”
“That lil’ shit deserved it—” Gojo whines out, before realizing that that likely didn’t help his case. “I-I mean-” He’s gesturing to the boy that was clearly not disrupted in any sense of the word, “-look at him! He’s completely fine! In fact, I’m the one emotionally scarred.”
The other two also start to protest this course of action, and the security guard stays silent for a beat, and lets the counterargument sink in…
Before he raises his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “We’re having some resistance here, I request back-up at the front of the line.”
“No no no-” He was just a meter away - a meter. “No, wait- please no.” And by now, the other fans were starting to point and stare at him now. At the way he was panicking. At the way he was trying to inch himself closer to the signing event. At the way he was so close to you- and yet, so far, with two burly security guards that clapped their hands down on his shoulders and dragged him away by his arms.
All the way to the exit.
As you stared.
“NOOOOOOO—!”
@thestrongestfanboy: I’m gonna be honest, kitten, daddy’s about to kill himself ٩(× ×)۶
@Fushidaddy103 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i saw the video youre trending on tiktok lmaooooo
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: F in the chat
@pinkillit replying to @urmomstype: F
@hearts2hurts replying to @urmomstype: F
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @urmomstype: F
@lovelicky replying to @urmomstype: F
@CupidOfficial: Tokyo, oh Tokyo~
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TRENDING ON TIKTOK:
#Cupidfanmeet
#thatonecrazyguy
#thestrongestfanboy
#Cupiddatingrumors
#Cupidbemywife
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This was it.
This was Gojo’s last chance.
He hadn’t won a fancall since that one time (no matter how many albums he bought, the universe just wasn’t on his side), he’d been barred from your Tokyo fanmeet, he’d been known as that one delusional fanboy in your fandom.
Which was honestly fine. Gojo was fine.
He was completely and utterly fine-
“OHMYGODSUGURUI’MSOCLOSEITHINKICANSEEHERICANSEEHER-” Gojo yelled in Geto’s ear, over the roaring crowd that was most likely saying the same thing he was. He shook the man, and then proceeded to shake his other best friend standing right beside him. “YOUGUYSARETHEBESTANDILOVEYOUANDYOU’LLBETHEBESTMANANDBESTWOMANAND-”
“Not if I kill you right now.” Shoko mutters, punching Gojo right in the stomach so he’d shut up for the first time in the past few hours. She takes a puff of her cigarette, even though the stadium had a strict no smoking policy.
She needed it.
She deserved it.
Though, she supposed that there was no one to blame but herself.
It was obvious the toll that all the failed fancalls and fanmeets had taken on Gojo. And while she couldn’t quite understand the sheer ahem- delusion that came with it, she knew that this was something important to him. And Geto did, too.
Which was why, with the power of social media, the duo had reached out to that ‘urmomstype’ boy and his blonde-haired guardian. Apparently, even after Gojo had been escorted his merry way outside, the two had tried to overturn the decision, explaining that it’d all just been some silly banter and there really wasn’t anything to remove him over. ‘He might be chopped and unc, but he’s still a goat. Sorta.’ The boy had said, whatever that means…
But, alas, the security guard had been stubborn.
And so, the four - Shoko, Geto, Yuki, and Todo (yes, even Todo) - had wanted to make it up to Gojo in a different way. Despite not being able to attend the fanmeet, you still had your upcoming concert in the famous Tokyo Dome.
They’d stayed up all night on the phone trying out every connection they had to somehow get a few extra tickets.
All night.
There had to be something, right?
Until - finally, finally - Yuki managed to get in contact with Gakuganji (yes, their ol’ campus librarian), who managed to get in contact with Yaga (yes, their ol’ high school principal), who managed to get in contact with one of his other friends that knew someone on your staff team. And through a rollercoaster of contacts, they somehow managed to snag a few seats.
Front row.
Gojo had burst into tears the moment he read that pink slip of paper with your name in bold, surrounded by hearts. He’d crushed them all to him, so tight that Shoko wondered whether her bones might break, and whispered. “You guys are definitely invited to my wedding.”
And if her heart melted just a little bit then, well…she didn’t mention it.
Now, however, she’d no sooner be invited to Gojo Satoru’s funeral than his alleged wedding. To their own fortune, Yuki and Todo had been assigned places a few seats down. A weary Geto on the other side of their white-haired friend reaches his hands out towards her. “Cigarette, please.”
Shoko raises a brown brow, “You don’t even smoke?”
“I’m about to start.”
“You guuuuys—” Gojo drags on, as the opening notes of your album start to ring out on the speakers. He shoots his hands out to grab Shoko- and when she ducks, he shoots his hands out to grab Geto- and when he groans, Gojo only sways them in the air. “It’s about to start- she’s about to come on stage- oh my god, oh my god my wife’s about to come on stage-”
“She’ll be your ex-wife if you don’t calm the fuck down.” Geto can’t help but laugh. Shoko looks on in confusion as he moves in synchronization with Gojo to the first few dance moves of your routine. Geto answers her unspoken question, “What? He played it all the time in our dorm, I could recite every lyric and move in my sleep by now.”
“M-me too.” And as your silhouette starts to become projected on the screen behind you, Gojo’s starting to tear up. Large, bulbous tears of emotion.
They were both dancing in unison now.
Crying (Gojo, at least).
Shoko shakes her head with a chuckle of her own. “Idiots.”
And then you saunter your way onto stage and Shoko (as well as everyone in a five-mile radius) feels their eardrums stop working.
@thestrongestfanboy: I wasn’t just another screaming boy…I challenged her stare down…she saw me. She pointed—twice. And if u think I’m done? Let’s see if the wolf can find his prey again…good luck…(^人<)〜☆
Attached was a video taken from the concert - more girlish screaming (Gojo’s) than music, to be quite honest.
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy114: I don’t see u at the concert. L |ʘ‿ʘ)╯
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i dont see me trending on tiktok either
Gojo doesn’t even have the time to block and report Fushidaddy’s 114th account, because he’s too busy shoving his phone into his pocket and joining the screams for your encore that night. The one where you pretend to walk off, then dramatically sigh as you prance back down—
“Ah~” You’re voicing into the mic, looking at the sea of flash-lit faces around you. “Again? You lot are reeeeeally ravenous tonight, aren’t you?”
In unison, they roar. They agree.
With a faux huff, you’re placing your hand on your waist. It’s a pose infamous amongst your fandom, and they already knew what was coming up next- “Who’s got you so worked up, huh? Is it…me?” Roaring. Rumbling. Raging. You gasp, flattered. “It’s really me? Oh, now you’re just kidding—”
A furious shake of heads.
“You’re not? Well…” You smile, and it’s the type of smile that makes a flurry of star-stuck cameras go off. Basking in it, you walk oh-so-closely to the edge of the stage, where hands reach out to merely be in your presence. “That’s cute. But I still think I should arrest someone for being so naughty tonight, getting you all worked up.”
Crowds wave, volunteering themselves up to you.
You reach for your glittering belt and pull out the fluffy pink handcuffs that make them squeal, “And how aboooooout…”
Scanning the stadium.
Looking around.
Your eyes pass over the roaring head until—
“Ah! You there.” You’re pointing, your eye catching on a fluffy head of white hair. A face so handsome. So eager. “How about you? Would you like to be my arrestee tonight—?”
His deep voice sounds out, “Y-yes! Yes please-”
And as you near, the crowd grows even more restless. Like a tumultuous sea, the waves crash into each other, creating a rough tide that almost wanted to pull you in-
You blink.
And suddenly that white-haired man has disappeared.
But you’re by the edge of the stage by now, and you could feel the palms reaching for you as you try to discern just where he might be. “I uh-” You pause. Before the crowd surges forwards, and you’re thinking quickly to point out someone else. “Perhaps he isn’t so eager to be thrown in the slammer tonight-” They laugh, “-so how about you? Brown-haired girl? Would you like to be arrested by me~?”
She nods, and you proceed with your lil’ skit to ‘arrest’ her for being much too naughty.
Teasing and twirling, before you stand up and get on with the rest of your concert-
“And now—who’s ready for an encore~?”
You prance away, leaving a trail of glitter and song- and tears. Fuck, Gojo only claws himself up from the ground just as you finished your little arresting routine. The roll of the crowd had knocked him to the ground, and Shoko looks at her sad lil’ best friend.
She raises the handcuffs on her wrists, “Help me get out of these and you can have them, Satoru-”
“No, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Gojo straightens himself up, and Shoko’s shocked to find that he shakes his head in rejection.
“Satoru, are you okay?” Geto asks, warily.
“Yeah-” He sighs. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Something hollow in his breath. Something hollow in his heart, as he watches you slip away.
One.
More.
Time.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play Chasing Pavements by Adele
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: but you good bro??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy117: No bro
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i feel you bro
@CupidOfficial: White hair. White stars…
That night, while Gojo had tossed and turned himself into a fitful sleep, his phone buzzed with yet another notification.
One that he had to blink his eyes at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, one that he had to pinch himself at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
DIRECT MESSAGES for @thestrongestfanboy.
@CupidOfficial: You’re the white-haired boy from tonight, aren’t you?
@CupidOfficial: Sorry if this is forward of me, I’ve just seen you around quite a bit…on my timeline, at the fanmeet…
@CupidOfficial: I just wanted to ask whether you’d want to model for the cover of my upcoming album?
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@pannchoa: Rumors swirl of Cupid’s upcoming album! Dispatch hints and industry whispers - read the full EXCLUSIVE from her producer right here.
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First thing’s first, you had Gojo Satoru sit on the couch of your penthouse accommodation. Talking through the details of your secretive upcoming album, and how the aesthetic you were going for fit his dazzling looks perfectly.
Second thing’s second, you had him seated on your king-sized bed. Still babbling about your album- at least, he was. Though the both of you knew that it was something else entirely on your minds.
Third thing’s third, he was sprawled out on said mattress. You straddlin’ his handsome face like a perch. His puffy, pinkish lips glued to your cunt—
“Mmpf- mmmm…” Gojo’s groaning over the most lecherous squelches that you’ve heard in your entire life. They’re echoing out like one of your sweetest songs, in sloppy staccato with the rovering movements of his tongue.
Gojo Satoru was eating you out like he was ravenous.
Famished.
Grabbing ahold of each side of your ass cheeks, he’s dragging you back down onto his gaping maw each n’ every time you flinched away with a whine, letting his tongue slash deeply into your drivelling orifice. “Mmm- hck!” Gojo’s so sloshed on your syrupy pussy that he’s finding himself hiccuping, eyes rolling all the way to the back of his head once your sap trickles out with a splash! Straight into the back of his throat, “Ohhhhh, my sweet girl-”
“Now now-” With a shiver, one of your hands slithers down to tug on Gojo’s clammy white locks. Almost as if to pull him away- but that only makes him nudge his lips closer to your hole with a keen. “Make sure you remember to- haaah, breathe, Gojo-”
“Sa-Satoru-” He whispers this out directly against your quivering cunt, and the vibrations make your back arch perfectly. Looking up at you through his pale lashes, fluttering. “Please call me, Satoru…”
Just the tip of his tongue that reels back out to fuck back in-
“-ma’am.”
“O-oh—” You’re moaning out at the way that his thick muscle pierces you - not only was Gojo an avid talker, but he had the tongue to back that up, too. So strong. So lengthy. He’s stirrin’ his tongue around and around in circular motions to graze those ridged tastebuds of his into each tiny nook n’ cranny.
Pulling onto his sweaty bangs and that only seems to make him go even harder- “S’that what you want me to call you?” You’re managing out, looking down at him- and that seems to make him jolt at the sheer intensity. “You want me to call you…”
You teasingly trail off, and Gojo only seems to buck—his hips coming up to make your vast bed creek. Chin spankin’ against the edge of your cunt when he yearns even closer, “Yes? Yes?”
“Oh? Was I supposed to- hck! finish something?” Pretending to not know exactly what he wanted, and it frankly made you even wetter to see the way that the tips of Gojo’s ears burn bright red at being caught.
“You know what I want baby- you know-” Sputtering out scorching hot breaths against your hole, before you know it- Gojo has one of his hands looped ‘round your thigh. The flat of his right thumb rubbin’ up and down your clit, “You kn-know what I want- and this pretty pussy does, too.”
Just the sultry sensation of him toying with your nub makes you gasp and buck. With your head thrown back, he’s taking every forceful bounce.
With such immense pleasure, Gojo’s letting his entire pretty face get ridden. The seeping hot core of your cunt plasters from the tip of his nose, down, down, down to grind your clit on the point of his chin. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Timing your gyrations just right, Gojo purses his lips and he spits- “She’s just so wet, my light.” Creating a slippery puddle that lets him slither his tongue into you even faster, “Soooo fucking wet. Sooo fuh-fucking loud, might even be louder than you on stage- and she’s honest, too.”
You’re raising a brow in challenge, raising his blushing head from between your legs to simply ask. “And just wh-what is ‘she’ honest about?”
There’s another dangling line of saliva spat on top of your pussylips, and the edge of Gojo’s thumb presses each wad inside. You shiver - and so does your core. “She knows she loves me—she knows she wants to call me ‘Satoru’, doesn’t she?”
Oh.
You simply shiver- you don’t even have an answer, and Gojo doesn’t expect you to have one. With sensual movements, the plush part of his lower lip drag-drag-draaaaags down the front of your cunt.
He’s pulling his tongue back, just lightly tapping it on top of your shaky orifice—“Hey…” You’re grumbling out, when his teasing motions are lingering for just too long. You tug on his hair, and that seems to make him groan in ecstacy - the happiness of being used. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”
“Why? Does she miss me?” Gojo prattles away - not to you, but to your dripping wet cunt. Almost as if to prove his point, just the spit-covered edge of his tastebuds slither close to your hole. And it makes you clench—
Around nothing, because Gojo’s pulling away in an instant.
He never imagined how fun it would be to tease you.
His pretty, swollen lips turning up into a dirty grin. “Ohhh, don’t you worry, my light.” And the crown of his thumb rolls over your clit a few more times, “I already know that she misses the feeling of my tongue fucking ‘er-” And just as you wanted (because he could never leaving you longing for too long) Gojo’s tongue starts moving in, sinking. “Already know she wants to be f-filled up like no other could, already know every word to your songs- every lyric- every syllable. Already know you’re gonna feel my tongue between your legs- and you’re going to call me—”
You breathe, “Yes?”
And he’s almost pleading. “Your good boy?”
“Well…” You twist your fingers harshly into his silken white hair, and it makes Gojo moan. Slightly shoving him where you wanted him the most- “-then shut the fuck up n’ prove it to me, Satoru.”
And that’s all he wanted.
That’s all he needed. For now.
Until you’re calling him your ‘good boy’ exactly like that dark, carnal part of him wanted you to—Gojo’s grunting at the shock of his first name leaving your pretty lips, in that sing-song voice of yours.
A sudden lurch that makes him shove his clammy head between your legs once more. He’s glued to the sheeny inner parts of your thighs, roughly gluing his mouth over your glazed pussylips.
“Oh- oh…” Heavy pants leave your mouth, and your chest heaves each time Gojo’s probin’ not only his prolonged tongue inside you- but also his slender fingers. “You’re really trying to prove it t’me-”
They were just so long. The curvaceous tips of his digits deliciously curving into your tenderest spots- he glides them perfectly along your walls. Fitting the ridges of his middle and ring fingers against your g-spot.
Thoroughly. You could feel the way that Gojo was grinning against your cunt folds as he feels your cute walls clamp down ‘round his touch- “I found that spot, my light. It feels sooooo gooood having my fingers all up in there, hm? Can you feel me right there-”
“Y-yes-” Fuck, he was circlin’ the padded tips of his fingers and that made you fall upon the bed. You clap a hand down on that mahogany headboard of yours and use it to keep yourself moving- “Fuck, it feels so good.”
“Then don’t you think I deserve it…” He’s pouting, plush mouth now pulling back to clamp down your clit, too. And not only was he suckin’ on that nub, he was biting down, too. “M’your number one fan.”
“Mhm—fuh-fuck.” Your head falls back when he’s pressing his lips together and draaaaagging the fleshy top of your clit backwards. Just stretching. Just itching this carnal itch.
When you’re distracted by the white-hot pleasure that bursts behind your lids at the feeling, Gojo’s easily managing to sneak in yet another finger. A third one that pummels your bruising g-spot just as hard. “Can recite your every lyric. Every fanchant.” The hot crevice of his mouth moves rapidly against your core.
Furiously.
He’s drawing out a saucy pattern with his tongue, one that you’re only later realizing are the strokes to spelling out your stage name.
C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D.
Gojo’s hot tastebuds salivate right down your front, pressing on your clit until you see sparks behind your eyes. “See- see?” There’s an almost crazed look in Gojo’s peripherals, rolling until they were almost nothing but pure white as you clench down on him roughly - and you start to wonder just what you have released. “See, m’your biggest fan- hck! M’your good boy, and this pretty pussy knows it.” He almost sounds pathetic begging between your legs, drooling, drunken. “And- and that’s not all-”
“Satoru, what do you mean that’s not…” Your sentence slowly dissolves in your throat, and with every push of his slimy tongue, you’re realizing just what he’s talking about.
Because instead of the curving ‘C’ that meant he was spelling out your stage name, Gojo was slashing something out. Long, hard lines that edged you closer towards your bliss—
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
“Mmm, you really are my biggest fuh-fan.” You’re somehow managing out, and the only thing you can do right now is grab ahold of Gojo’s hair and let him lavish you with his mouth. “You really love me, Toru?” And you feel him jolt at that cute nickname- “Or do you love my pussy?”
“Both. Both.” Fingers spearheading you so fast at this point that the skin ‘round his mountainous knuckles turns red. Stinging red. Needy red. Just like the strawberry shade of his overworked lips-
Plap! after plap!
And you’re not sure if the sounds are from the way you’re riding his handsome face, or the impact of him banging his fingertips into your deepest insides. “Both both both- fuck, I wanna have you drippin’ down my tongue for forever, my light. Could have you squeezin’ around me like this for ages, mmm, m’fucking obsessed.”
“A reference to my- haaah, to my album?” You question, and you were just so close. You were just so rapidly nudging yourself closer on top of him like this- “But what if you can’t breathe, Toru?”
“I don’t need to-” To which Gojo only grips the side of your ass with his free hand, tugging you down. Jolting you atop him. Manhandling you down further. He scrapes his swabbing fingers even further down your walls, past the spot of your bundle of nerves. “I don’t need to at all. Hah- I don’t need to breathe if I can have you like th-this…”
Your mouth dries of a response, because just then, he’s changing up the pattern of his sizzlin’ tastebuds again.
Long, luscious strokes.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
Your eyes snap wide open, and you’re gasping at the realization of what exactly he was spelling out. “O-oh…” Chin slathering with a waterfall of your spittle, you’re just holding onto him for dear life at his vulgar kisses. “Satoru, I think m’gonna c-cum—”
And you’ve had voice training before, you’ve been used to keeping your voice steady even in the most pressurized of environments- but just then, your tone cracks as you heave your sultry body forwards and cum.
Hot, glistening waves of bliss.
A heat that takes over your body, from your scalp to your toes.
Again and again.
Slight tears prick behind your eyelids as you let Gojo fuck you through your high with his tongue, “Fuck- fuck, you made me cum-” Somehow pinpointing each peak of your orgasm to stick his fingers in for. Thud, thud, thud. “-and I didn’t even expect it.”
“Mmmm—” And you don’t know who was more gone on the fact that you were cumming like this, you or him. Because Gojo was lappin’ away with his thick tongue, slurping. “Tastes so sweet, my light. S’like sugar on my tongue…”
“Oh, you really are pussydrunk.” You whisper, and let his face move back and forth to elongate your euphoria. “Keep going, Toru—h-hah, keep going.”
“Anything for you, ma’am.”
How he loved the way you soaked yourself just a lil’ wetter at the sound of him saying that particular title. How he loved the way you’d flinch and tremble on top of him when he licked you from the tip of your clit and down to the end of your cunt. How he loved the way your high bated to nothing but mere tingles, and you shivered sensitively when he still kept going.
“My orgasm’s over now, Toru—” You hiccup, your tears starting to spill. “You were such a…good boy.”
And that’s when Gojo jolts, his entire body running with a shockwave that made itself obvious even to you. Curiously, you’re peering behind him- before he’s drawing your attention back to the front with a few more plunging pushes of his tongue. “Mmmm, m’your good boy. Your good boy- your good boy.”
G-O-O-D-B-O-Y.
“Mhm—” And when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to wrench himself away anytime soon, you’re bawling. “Fuck- fuck, Satoru m’so sensitive.”
“M’sorry, my light, I just can’t seem to-” Somehow managing to pant through his thorough pushes, it was honestly a wonder that he could even find the time to breathe at this point- with the way he was glued to your puckered pussy. Mouthing out what felt like the most popular lyrics to your songs at this point- “-can’t even seem to stop. It’s like I’m…almost like I’m-”
You flinch when he spits once more, the wad oozing down your slit.
“-addicted.”
You take a goood, long look at Gojo: puffy eyes, bleary vision, his mouth all puffy and raw around your cunt. Nearly every inch of his face was covered in a sappy layer of your slick, and it dripped down to drench your pillow beneath. Like a puddle.
Your cup your hand down from his hair n’ to his cheek, and Gojo practically melts at the touch. You had the distinct thought that if he were a cat, he’d be purring. “But Toru-” Jutting your bottom lip out for emphasis, “I want to give you the same, you know what I mean? S’that alright.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you could step on me and I’d thank you.” He says, before wrenching off of your swollen pussylips with a wettened plop!
A loud, dramatic mwah!
It makes your heart race, and something in Gojo’s tightened trousers twitch. Eagerly, you’re shuffling yourself off of him and sitting on one end of the bed.
Earlier, Gojo had simply ripped off your skirt and panties off- and his flooded mouth drops further with every item of clothing you’re taking off. Until you were completely exposed, and you’re directing him with a finger to do the very same.
“Yes, ma’am-” There’s absolutely no hesitation before his t-shirt (with, tastefully, your face on it as part of your merchandise) comes off. And you’re absolutely shocked- because Gojo wasn’t the trim, lanky figure that you’d expected him to be.
Instead, he was built.
Well-chiselled pecs that made you ache to touch them, leading down with a deep valley to the muscles of his washboard abs. Almost like a ladder. They were decorated only with a few beauty spots, and a line of sparse white hair that led down, down, down.
Gojo’s beefy biceps flex as he then tugs down on the hemline of his pants and boxers, revealing—oh.
He flushes at the intensity of your stare, “Wh-what?” Almost squirming, he just felt so shy by the way his idol was looking at him like you just wanted to tear him apart. Sensually. “Is something not-”
“You’re just so big, Satoru.” You gasp, your eyes never straying from him.
Naturally, your hand reaches out to grab the ninth of his loooong inches, thick and hot in your hold. Glistening with need. His tight balls clenching. He was so hard that every pulsation was visible even from here.
A few veins decorated his shaft, and he was so reddened at the tip, n’ dripped down a stream of milky precum just at the feeling of your palm on him.
Slowly - ever-so-slowly - you start to lower your head…
“Oh.” Gojo pants out a scalding breath. “And that is…good?”
“It’s perfect.”
Gojo’s watching you through partly-cracked eyelids, feeling so hypnotized by the sight of you below him. He raises himself slightly on his haunches with a hiss, the hot air from your mouth kissin’ his tip—it almost- it almost reminded him of the way you’d lean in so close with your microphone.
Lips so soft.
Tongue so talented.
Just gently pressing—
And that’s when Gojo chokes back a needy cry and cums- straight down the front of your pretty, pretty face. In a split-second, you have your tongue filthily dangling out to catch the wads of seed that he was pouring out.
Splat after splat that ended up emptying on your tastebuds.
He’s bucking to let his shaft glissade just further down your tongue- and the mere plush feeling of him only makes his geysering divot spill out more generously.
“Fuck-” Gojo scrunches his azure eyes, head fighting not to throw back and miss a second of the sinful sight below. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I can’t believe I’m…this is all your fault, sweetheart, ngh.” And his abs flex as he starts up a lil’ half-rut to fuck himself through his wave of bliss.
“Mmm—” You’re savoring the salted caramel taste of him, something so sweet about him. Amused, you raise a brow. “I barely even put my mouth on you, and you’re cumming already?”
He’s raising his hands to his blushing face, peeking out through his fingers. “Actually…it’s the second time tonight m’cumming, my light.” As you raise your brows in slight surprise, and flick your eyes to the drenched mess of his boxers. “The haaaah—the first time was when you- you called me your ‘good boy’.”
“Oh.”
Cumming just from eating you out? Now that really made your cunt throb with torturous need, and you’re sliding a hand between your legs to feel for the wetness there.
“Well, then-” A beautiful grin graces your face, and it’s enough to make Gojo’s swollen cock twitch. “-guess you have one more to make up t’me if you’re such a, mm, good boy, huh?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
Before you know it, you’re being splayed out with your back against the bed. The mattress slightly dips as Gojo hovers his muscular weight above you, and he’s gently pushin’ apart your legs, sweat beading on his forehead as he takes in your dripping wet core.
You swear you catch his mouth watering at the sight- “No need to be nervous, Toru. Have you ever done this before?”
He shakes his head, “No, it- it was actually my first time eating you out, too.” Peering up at you with teary eyes, “Did I do good?”
Did he do good?
If that was his first time, you didn’t know what would happen with his second, his third, his tenth. And you’re snapping yourself forcefully out of that little reverie, “Yes- fuck, yes you did so good. Was such a good boy for me.” He grunts, something ruined in it. “Now I need you to be a good boy f’me again, okay? C’mon- put my legs on your shoulder—yeeeees, just like that.”
His muscles shifted underneath your heels, he was just so hulking.
“Now bend, Toru-”
“Bend?”
“Bend.”
And Gojo wanted to prove himself to you, just like before. He wanted to do his very best for you, you, you and only you - even if that meant…manhandling his one and only idol, just a little.
With a primal lurch, Gojo then has your knees pushed all the way up to your tits. “Like this?” Your body bent completely in half, like a lawn chair. “Like this?” And his hips slotting between your legs- in this mean mating press, Gojo’s furious cock stuffs juuuuuust inside- “Like- like-”
Before he’s slouching his head forwards and pushing—
“Fuck-” Gojo’s canines try to sink into his lower lip, before he’s realizing that that won’t hold back his gruff noises and he’s simply keening. Carnal. Baritone.
A thin line of drool starts to splash from the side of his maw, before his entire body bows inwards to yours. Like he was focusing each n’ every ounce of strength into pryin’ aside your swollen folds and squeeeeezing his round, girthy tip inside. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” And then you clench and you can hear the exact moment that the sensation pangs through Gojo’s body, “I think m’gonna cum again- fuck, m’gonna cum again just from this.”
“If you do then I want it allll inside-” You say, looking up into his attractive face - so unintentionally sexy. Gojo was flushing. Rabidly slobbering. His dick aching.
He was so hard that you could feel the prominent outline of each vein, scraping your insides as Gojo tries to push past the slight resistance of your entrance and buck and buck- “Don’t- oh.” He could barely even echo out a coherent thought with your wet pussy wrapped ‘round him like this. “Don’t- fuckin’- talk like that- s’only gonna make it, ngh, worse.”
“But I thought you were my good boy?”
“Fuh-fuck.” Gojo hollows out, with a clouded breath that made it seem as though every ounce of sanity was leaving his body along with it. And at that very second, you feel him spurt out just a single pearly white bead of cum.
It splats! down at the back of your pussy, and makes you shiver at the feeling. Meanwhile, Gojo’s forced to lurch up one of his fists and gnaw down on it to control himself. “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing t’me.” The blood vessels at his neck and temples pop as he somehow stops his dribbling cock from flooding your insides any further. “Didn’t know how fuck- fucking mean ya are, my light.”
“What can I say?” You hum, your hamstrings all sore with the intrusion that was being lodged in your lower half. “You were the criminal that got away- ngh, at my concert.”
“Mhm—?” Still rutting. Just animalistic half-ruts.
“And I want you to fuck me filthily, Toru.”
Oh…at this confession of yours, he grows even bigger inside of your tight channel. The girth of Gojo’s cock swells up, and his sheer length pushes apart your walls, molding them to him-
“Oh- oh my…” There was still a light sheen of your slick on Gojo’s face that he hadn’t been able to greedily lap away, and it’s then - mid-sentence - that you choose to lean yourself closer to him and get a taste.
To which Gojo’s hazed blue eyes snap open- and oh, the look in them makes your legs tighten. Makes them fail- he’s snapping them open in a singular fluid motion, uncaring of the way it exhausts your muscles. Uncaring of the snug stretch-stretch-streeeeetch of your cunt once he’s mazing himself inside. “-my light.” Gojo bites out, “I’ll give you anything you need…”
Just then, your ears ring with a sharp clap!
You’re wondering whether it’s your ears.
You’re wondering whether it’s your heartbeat.
You’re left wondering no longer when you register it’s the slamming impact of Gojo’s toned v-line snapping against your lower half. Bottoming out in one motion, he’s deeply probin’ his rotund tip into the back of your treacly pussy.
Bottoming out? Already?
“And that includes fucking you like the slut you want to be fucked as.”
Oh.
Oh.
It seems that perhaps you’ve broken him.
Because then Gojo’s pounding his rough, ravenous hips into you all the way until his white happy trail scrapes your clit, and the end of his shaft reaches for the back of your throat.
“What the fuck…” He stops as he feels the tender end of your pussy - teary eyes widening. And the first thing out of his mouth is, “Is this real?” In utter, feral disbelief. “There’s no way this is…” Before Gojo’s pinching himself.
He bottoms out a few more times, and each time the look in his eyes grows more distant. Jaw dropping further and further with the pure ecstacy of having his painfully-hard erection surrounded by your soft warmth. “Are you- hck! are you holding up, Toru?”
“Holding up? Holding up?” He almost cackles- octaves higher, almost crazed. He turns to you, “Pinch me.”
“What-”
“Pinch me.”
And so you do - right on the strawberry nubs of his nipples, where he was just so sensitive. Only when the painfully lewd sensation confirms it’s real does he start formulating his sloppy cadence, “Fuck! It doesn’t fucking feel r-real. It can feel like this, sweetheart?” He was rutting his hips impatiently into you like he was trying to fuck the answer out of you. Each n’ every loooong, winding vein glissading down your walls. “N-ngh, she feels like heaven ‘round my cock.”
“Oh yeah—?” Purposefully, you clench. “Like that, Satoru?”
He simply shivers, “Y-yes.” You can feel him thumpin’ away at the goopy back of your pussy, with his circular divot creaming out in pre. “She’s sucking up every inch of me- fuck, huggin’ me so tight. Bet she can feel my veins reeeeeal good, can’t she?” A few slurps as he sloppy fucks his way in, which he takes as an answer. “Mhm, she can.”
And you only clench harder-
“Oh.” He whimpers, “Have mercy.”
“I dunno…” You drag out from the back of your throat, and you have to curl your toes to stop the pleasure from overflowing and interrupting your sentences. “You didn’t have mercy when you ate me out earlier, did you?”
Gojo gasps-
“And when you screamed at my concert, and when you disrupted my fanmeet.” You’re quite enjoying watching him fall apart - head hung, hips stuttering as he struggles to hold himself back. You wonder just what might happen if you made this handsome virgin Gojo…break. “So why should I show you- ngh, mercy?”
“Please- oh, what are you—”
Whatever Gojo was going to say is immediately derailed by the casual way you’re hiking up a hand to your stomach. Pressing dooooown just as his throbbing length was sinking in, “Filthier, Toru.”
And that’s when something in your favorite fanboy - in Gojo Satoru - snaps.
That’s when your positions shift.
His sap dribbles down n’ overflows just like the way your steaming tastebuds do, and your teeth clench after every one of his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Just like you’d said, he was thwacking his aching hot cock into you so hard that the curve of his ballsack was swatting your cunt. Slowly, you’re growing more and more hypnotized by his roverin’ dick stuffing every ounce inside you full. “Just like that- hah-” Arms wobbling, you struggle to reach ‘round Gojo’s shoulders. “Oh- just like that-”
“Just like that?” He asks, oh-so-kindly. And you almost feel a glimmer of hope for your poor body when Gojo gently tugs your arms around his shoulders. Letting you grab onto his deltoids-
“But I don’t think s’filthy enough, my light.”
Oh…so you were mistaken.
“Filthier, you said?” He repeats your words from earlier, fully channeling his energy to swabbin’ every point of your cunt. Gojo feels your legs slipping, and he’s reaching a hand behind his neck to pin your ankles together - locking them in place. “Look-” Other hand thumbing between your puffy pussylips, “Look, she wants it harder- faster, too. She’s practically flooding out and begging for it.”
“Oh my god-” Your pillow is drenched in a layer of your spittle by now, and your back arches. “Keep- keep going.”
“Keep going? But I wanna go even filthier, sweetheart.” That familiar pout of his makes an appearance, though there was something much more…sleazy about it this time.
Your nails dig into the plush mountains of his muscles, shifting underneath your touch each time he’s reeling his body back. Back, back, back. Gojo was putting his entire frame to work - not just his hips - each time he’s shovelling his cock into you.
And the extra pressure makes the rounded crown of his shaft embed deep into your cervix, leaving a bruise there that acts as the perfect target for the next slam. And the next. And the next. “Please-” You’re gasping out, sobs bubbling in your throat. “Please please please- please, and how are you gonna be even filthier?”
“Like this.” Just to prove his point, his free hand tilts open your chin and spits straight in your mouth. And without wasting a second longer, Gojo spanks that very hand back down on your hips to keep you from running. “Aaaand—”
Instead, he’s using his strength to pliably jerk you back down. Hissing between your parted lips, “Like this.” He’s bubbling up even more saliva- this time, down your slippery slit. That hand of his on your hip reaches over, and with the forefront curve of his thumb, Gojo’s smearin’ the wad of saliva on top of your pussy. Pressing down on your clit- “Because m’just your pathetic fanboy, my light, listening to- ngh, every word you say. So when you say filthy, m’only gonna go filthier.”
You almost don’t want to dare to ask, “And h-how will you make this…even filthier?”
But you knew he wanted you to.
You knew he was just dying to fuck the words out of you.
Gojo’s plastering a sleazy smirk across his face, and it damn near looks downright blasphemous with the layer of syrup on his features. “I h-have an idea or two…”
He’s not telling you what the idea is, he’s showing it to you - with his fingers twisting on top of your clit to spell out some of the very words he’d spelled out with his tongue earlier.
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
Furiously, your body thrashes at the mercy of his clutches. Gojo was holding you down ruthlessly, a mean expression taking over his face when he finds out that he can simply pin you down and make that glistening hole of yours take it.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
All those zaps of pleasure that you loved so much, that you were moaning so much at. You’re so cockdrunken by this point that spittle sloshes ‘round inside your mouth- and Gojo only leans over to lick off the drivels of it escaping your mouth.
<3
Just in time to crash his lips into your when you cum.
“C-cumming.” You’re gasping out, almost in disbelief at the sheer strength of the orgasm that was flooding your entire body. Bucking back into his thrusts, “So much- it’s- it’s so much, fuck.”
“Yes-” Gojo growls, slightly breathless at the fact that this was you—and you were cumming ‘round his cock, suctioning every tender ridge on his shaft, fully fucking yourself through the complete waves of your high.
Bliss upon euphoria.
If you thought that your orgasm was incredible earlier, then you weren’t ready for this one. It simply takes over every part of you, until it felt like your nerves were fried with the sensation.
He stops pinning you down any longer, letting you bounce your hips back into his to your heart’s content. “That’s right, use me.” Gojo’s fingers are but a blur on your clit, “Use me to ride your high- fuck, use me as much as sh-she wants. Let me feel every inch of you squeezin’ around me-”
“I can’t be the only one.” Despite the pangs of your bliss, you somehow manage to blink away your tears to gaze up at him. With a hand fisted in Gojo’s perspired hair, you’re pulling him in reeeeal close, “Want you to cum insi- oh, fuck.”
You don’t even have to finish your sentence.
You don’t even have to finish your thought.
Because the moment that Gojo realizes what you’re trying to say to him, the bawling divot at the end of his shaft pours out white-hot cum. Heard throwing back. Chiselled body bowing into yours. Voice straining with a call of your name.
It’s just the creamiest texture, it polishes a layer of white on your cervix and along your walls until the syrup froths outside.
Gasping, Gojo brushes his thumb between your folds and plugs up your leaking hole. Overspilling. So many webbed layers were seeping out of you, and he was taking the time to push every ounce of it back inside- “Fuck.” He whispers, thickly. “Fucking hell.”
“S’all inside, Satoru.” You mewl, gliding your hand up and down your front. “I can feel it splashin’ around inside-”
“Don’t say that- don’t- fucking say that-” He just barely chokes out- before one of Gojo’s hands lets go of your ankles to actually squeeze that pretty neck of yours, so perfect in his grip. “Don’t say that or m’gonna…”
“Or what?”
“Or m’gonna cum again-”
“Can feel it alllllll up inside.” You continue, despite the lecherous tightening at your throat. And Gojo has to listen on in pure agony as that voice he loves so much continues on—“Honestly- at this rate, you might just get me- ngh, pregnant, Toru.”
And that does it- he’s splurging out his dewy wet wads all over again. It seeps a layer of white into your glossy insides, making every thrust of his slippery.
With a slight whimper, he doesn’t waste time fucking those droplets of cum inside even if it aches him with sensitivity. The reddened tip of his cock twitches, and Gojo’s balls nuzzle the forefront of your cunt, already sucked dry with nothing more to give-
“You kn-know-” When Gojo speaks, it almost sounds like he’s crying- oh. Something hot and wet drips from his eyes, he actually was crying in overstimulation.
The texture of your cunt leaving him red n’ raw, but even then he’s way too addicted to try and bring himself to stop. Moaning, “-I did say something about you st-stepping on me, my light.”
Your brows raise.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
.
.
.
It’s almost a year later when Gojo posts:
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.
@Fushidaddy1008 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmfao as if anyone would bang you
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1008: Ahhh, my wife would bang me~! ＼(≧▽≦)／ Also blocked (*≧ω≦*)
@Fushidaddy1009 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: wife?? lmfao i thought Cupid was your wife?? youre saying you banged Cupid??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1009: Exactly~! Blocked (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
@thestrongestfanboy: I would let her step on me (and HAVEEEEE) <(￣︶￣)>
@thestrongestfanboy: Does anyone have that meme of the guy shooting a basketball from the moon and actually making the basket???
@thestrongestfanboy: I’M IN LOVE.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro do you gen need your meds or…
@Shokomedical replying to @DigiGeto: I’ve prescribed all he needs, idk how but it’s gotten worse since that concert last year.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Happy for you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@thestrongestfanboy: MY BEAUTIFUL WIIIIIIFE~! ٩(♡ε♡)۶
And then came the disaster, perhaps. Because he’d meant to attach a completely innocent picture of you from your last show, he’d meant to post something that would have been inconspicuous with everything else that your fansites were posting.
But this is Gojo - and that’s obviously not what happened.
Attached to that aforementioned tweet was a picture of none other than Gojo Satou and you. Not from a concert. Not from afar. In the flesh, in nothing but a soft blanket covering your most intimate parts, clearly bitten all over and sex-hazed.
You were raising a digital camera up, your smile peaking through its edge as if you were taking a picture of a picture. And Gojo himself was in the corner - bitten, marked, a dopey smile and just as ruined, as sex-rumpled as you were, shirtless.
The first night.
How damning.
In the split-second that the photo had been up, it spread across stan Twitter like wildfire. And all of Gojo’s subsequent tweets had upwards of 1M+ views just because of it.
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DIVA DOWN DIVA DOWN
@thestrongestfanboy: I DIDN’T MEAN TO POST THAT PLEASE FORGET ABOUT IT.
@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro actually….did it? The fanboy actually did what every delulu stan hopes to do??
@gggggnarly replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU HOOKED UP WITH QUEEN CUPID?!
@hearts2hurts replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I fear I, again, can’t send hate because this is impressive ngl.
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i know this is a marketing stunt i just cant prove it (uta give me a chance pls)
@lovelicky replying to @thestrongestfanboy: PARASOCIALISM WORKED??
@yuuthebaddie replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU GOT THE HUZZ??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I GOT THE HUZZ!! („ಡωಡ„)
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DELETE-
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Satoru what the fuck
@Shokomedical replying to @thestrongestfanboy: SATORU WHAT THE FUCK
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I always knew the day would come!! Congratulations, Gojo-senpai ^.^
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: What did I miss?? Do I need to make a new thread??
@Fushidaddy2067 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: thats it siri play chasing pavements.
And that’s when it spreads outside of your fandom, first to the celebrity news outlets, and then everyone else. Soon enough, BuzzFeed, TMZ, Pannchoa were all tripping over themselves to be the first to report and interview on the subject. Personally, you knew that Dispatch was foaming at the mouth to drop the annual bombshell with all the sordid details.
TRENDING ON TWITTER:
#CUPIDPICTURE
#CUPIDDATING
#THESTRONGESTFANBOY
#DELULUISTHETRULULU
#HEGOTTHEHUZZ??
#LFORFUSHIDADDY
@CupidManagement: As a company, we do not interfere in the private lives of our artists and we kindly ask everyone to stop spreading any malicious rumors. We wish all the best to Cupid, and her relationship going forward.
And you?
@CupidOfficial: Ahhh might be as great a time as ever to announce that my new album, Stargirl, will be out on all platforms November 28th!! Here’s the cover art, hope you love it (and a special thank you to the special boy that made it happen) <33
On the cover, a picture of Gojo.
Not as you’d seen him in the bedroom, of course. It’d been exciting work to get to the studio, to don him in the most ethereal flowy whites, to place him in the midst of a blank background and stud his hair with roses, to bathe him in a dreamy light. It was almost hazy. In the picture, his face was turned away but he was staring into the camera- and…perhaps past it.
Right where you’d been, directing him.
With such a loving glimmering in his eyes that it made one almost shy to directly at it.
Your vision had some to life.
It quickly racks up a comfortable million plus views on Twitter, and you quietly shut off your phone as the notifications keep beeping. Instead, snuggling up to Gojo right back in your penthouse, right beside you (not before you give him a lecture on double-checking the pictures he posts, of course.)
Toji working out in the garage when you pull into the driveway.
He looks sexy, always does.
But the sun is beaming on his tan skin, sweat dripping down his Greek god like body, muscles flexing with every movement. jet block locks swaying as he punches the punching bag with all he’s got. He catches sight of you stepping out the car, already taking off the tape that wrapped his hands.
He nods to you, smile appearing on his face “There she is, pretty girl.”
It makes you feel all warm inside, butterflies swarming in your stomach that stills you before you can meet him halfway up the driveway. Your brown eyes are all over him, every scar and tattoo, every bulky arms and thighs in his shorts, the way he towers over you. suddenly feeling your own hands sweat that you wipe down your jeans.
“Hi Toji.” It comes out meeker than intended, laughing at how speechless you must look.
“Why are you standing over there, come ‘ere.”
And he gently takes you by the jaw, stumbling into him as he holds your chin in his hands, kissing you tender, sweet. He’s been missing you. He hand slips down your torso, down the curve of your hips, before you shyly pull away. “Don’t hug me ji, you’re sweatin.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, but kisses you again, lifting his hands up in surrender. Smiling against your lips when you hand touches his sticky abs. “It’s good to see you too mama.”
You turn away, biting the inside of your lip as he lips kiss the corner of your lips, peppering kisses all over. The back of knuckles brushed over the apple of your cheek, “When’d you get all shy on me, huh? Usually have something to say.”
You shrug in response but he knows good and well how he’s making you feel, can feel how hot your cheeks feel as he looks at you. “That’s fine too,” he hums, nuzzling your noses, “How about, we take a shower together—“
“We?”
He cocks a brow, “Y’don’t think I need a little help getting clean?”
Your mouth opens to say something but you purse your lips to fight off a stupid grin. He continues through a chuckle, “Like I said, we can take a shower together. Then I’ll make us lunch. Doesn’t sound half bad, does it?”
You shake your head, letting him play with the braid getting in the way of your eyes, “Words puddin.”
“No, it doesn’t sound half bad.” God you’re perfect, licking your full lips and looking up at him like he’s the only man in existence. 
“Good,” Toji kisses your forehead, “let’s hurry ‘nd get you fed, huh?”
the apartment was still humming with the low, warm chaos of a party that refused to die down. low-fi beats bled through a portable speaker near the TV, mixed with the muted clinking of beer bottles, distant laughter from the balcony, and someone’s aggressively terrible attempt at a fighting game in the corner.
iwaizumi had been back in japan for less than forty-eight hours, fresh off a plane from the states. his hair was slightly longer, his shoulders impossibly broader, and the jetlag was clearly fighting a losing battle against the sheer number of old friends packed into his living room.
yet, somehow, the entire night had felt like a slow-burn fanfiction between just the two of you.
it started with small things—a lingering touch on the small of your back when he passed by you in the cramped kitchen, his deep voice dropping an octave every time he leaned down to speak over the music, eyes catching yours across the crowded room every single time someone cracked a joke. every glance was charged, heavy with months of unsaid things buried under late-night trainer study calls and time zone differences.
the hours had simply melted.
before either of you realized it, the bright evening daylight had long faded into deep, velvet midnight. most of the guests had melted away, leaving only the hardiest stragglers scattered across the rug and couches.
you glanced at the digital clock. 1:47 a.m.
“shit,” you whispered softly, setting your half-empty glass down on the counter. “i really should get going. i have to be up early tomorrow.”
you turned toward the entryway to grab your jacket from the rack, slipping your arms into the sleeves. you were just reaching for the doorknob when a sudden heat blossomed against your back.
strong, thick arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against a warm, solid chest. the familiar scent of cedar, clean laundry, and faint alcohol washed over you. iwaizumi rested his forehead heavily against the nape of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as a quiet, desperate sigh escaped him.
“don’t go yet,” iwaizumi muttered, his voice gravelly and low, laced with the kind of unfiltered honesty he usually kept tucked safely behind his stoic exterior.
you froze, your hands lingering on your jacket lapels. “iwa… people are literally still here.”
right on cue, across the open living area, three of your mutual friends—ryy, cass, and mayo—were completely oblivious to the intense drama unfolding by the door. they were huddled in a chaotic circle near the kitchen island, rhythmically bouncing on their heels, swaying their arms in unison, and aggressively performing the ‘six seven’ emote from tiktok with terrifyingly serious expressions.
iwaizumi didn’t even glance in their direction. he just tightened his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your jacket, completely unfazed by the audience.
“i don’t care about them,” he murmured, burying his face a little deeper into the curve of your shoulder. “they can clean up when they leave. ‘it’s getting late, please stay.”
the raw vulnerability in his tone made your heart do a violent flip. this was iwaizumi—the man who usually wore composure like armor, the guy who preferred subtle nods to grand displays of affection. and here he was, practically clinging to you in front of a room full of people, refusing to let the space between you open up again.
“hajime,” you breathed, turning slightly within the ring of his arms so you could look up at him.
he finally lifted his head. his eyes were intense, heavy-lidded, and brimming with everything he hadn’t been able to say over short phone calls and text messages across the pacific ocean. the romantic tension that had been simmering all evening suddenly threatened to boil over right there in the narrow hallway.
“i missed you,” he confessed quietly, his hands sliding from your waist to rest on your hips, thumb brushing against the exposed skin just above your waistband. “i spent the whole flight thinking about coming home, but really i was just thinking about coming back to you. so don’t leave yet. crash here. on the couch, on the bed—preferably on my bed—i don’t care. just stay.”
you looked past his shoulder. mayo was currently trying to teach cass the exact hand placement for the emote while ryy recorded them on her phone, entirely absorbed in their own absurd universe. nobody was paying attention to the doorway.
a soft laugh escaped your lips, the tension in your shoulders dissolving instantly. you slipped your arms up around iwaizumi’s neck, resting your hands in the coarse, short hair at the back of his head.
“you’re clingy when you’re jetlagged,” you teased softly, a small smirk playing on your lips.
“only with you,” iwaizumi replied without a second of hesitation, his jaw setting stubbornly. “is that a yes?”
“yes,” you whispered, leaning in just enough that your lips brushed against the corner of his jaw. “i’ll stay.”
a tiny, satisfied sigh left his throat. the tension melted out of his shoulders, and for the first time all night, iwaizumi looked completely relaxed. he pulled you in closer, pressing a lingering, warm kiss to your temple right as ryy shrieked in victory from the kitchen.
“we nailed it!” ryy yelled.
iwaizumi finally turned his head slightly, shooting them a tired, half-hearted glare over his shoulder. “if you three don’t clear out in ten minutes, i’m charging rent.”
mayo gasped, grabbing cass by the elbow. “he’s fully awake! abort mission!”
as the trio scrambled to grab their shoes and coats, giggling like maniacs on their way out, iwaizumi didn't let go of you for a single second. he just held you tight, keeping you right where you belonged.
