THE DORK

Silly gojo gooner

[dorkinit4ever]

THE HANAHAKI CASES

case file no.1

~ satoru gojo

case file no.2 pending...

[mieleism]

— behind closed doors

only you know what your husband is like when no one is watching . . . wc: 2.5k

it had been a long day.

satoru pressed the pads of his fingers to his eyelids, trying to alleviate the ache and dryness that was ever present.

he sighed, reclining back in his chair in his office as he gave the papers on his desk a fleeting glance.

“….gojo-sensei…marry…how?”

satoru perked up, nobara’s distant voice catching his attention as soon as he heard his name. he quieted down to listen — so he was nosy, sue him.

“i just don’t get it!” she exclaimed, “how did gojo sensei bag someone like her?!”

megumi tsked in response, “hate to say it but, it makes perfect sense.”

“literally how?” nobara continued, unconvinced, “gojo-sensei is the opposite of his wife, and she seems so sweet and frankly, too intelligent for him.”

megumi snorted at that and he could hear yuuji protesting at nobara, “gojo-sensei is also intelligent!”

satoru’s lip quirked up, a tiny breath of laughter escaping his lungs at what should’ve been at least a mildly offensive statement.

“they’re good together,” megumi replies after a beat, voice begrudging but satoru knew the boy enough to hear the fondness in his tone.

and now, satoru was back home.

“‘toru,” you stepped out of the shower just as your husband teleported inside your shared bedroom.

you toweled your hair as he strode towards you, his hands immediately finding purchase at your waist as he dipped down to press his lips to yours.

you paused rubbing your hair with the towel, letting your husband get his fill.

“you smell good,” satoru murmurs against your skin, his lips skirting over the wet flesh, “i could eat you up.”

“what happened to hello? good evening?” you teased, giggling as you looped an arm around his neck and while the other threw the wet towel on your vanity chair.

“hello,” he pecked your lips, “good evening,” peck “how are you, my sweet girl?” peck “i could just eat you up.”

you giggled breathlessly, staying still while your husband attacked you with affection, your hand slowly creeping up the nape of his neck.

satoru brought his hand up to your face, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as he took in your flushed face. your face was all scrunched up, eyes crinkling because of your smile as you gazed up at him with twinkling eyes.

satoru pulled his eye covers above his head, the fabric pushing the hair off of his forehead.

"do you think i'm unworthy of you?"

you stilled immediately, the smile falling off your face.

satoru's eyes held a vulnerability that he tried - and succeeded - to keep hidden always.

you exhaled, your hand coming up to rest on your husband’s face, “no.”

satoru’s breath caught in his throat. it was such a simple and predictable answer, but the quiet ferocity behind that word made him pause.

he had meant the question to be silly and lighthearted, wherein you would’ve played along with the joke and he would’ve laughed with you — because the conversation he had overheard earlier didn’t mean anything to him, of course.

of course.

“satoru,” your other hand also came up to rest on his cheek, cradling his face as you held his gaze, “you are so worthy of everything - of me, your life, the love you receive, the love you give.”

satoru stayed quiet. the lump in his throat that was rapidly growing in size preventing him from opening his mouth to say something witty and unserious - to diffuse the new tension that he created unwittingly.

“if anything,” you continued, your thumbs moving across his cheekbones, “if anything, i insist that you are worthy of so much more.”

that did it. satoru closed his eyes as he felt a lone tear slip down his cheek.

he was the strongest.

the strongest.

yet, standing here in front of you, with his face in your gentle hands, he was the weakest man on earth.

your love was so kind, so pure and just so unprotesting of his selfishness that wanted to hold onto you until all the doubts and fears in his head disappears.

you quieted down as you silently wiped away his tears, and then another, and another, letting your husband slowly strip away his defences and lay himself bare in front of you.

“really?” satoru whispered, hoping you didn’t hear the crack in his voice.

“cross my heart,” you replied back just as solemnly, your eyes soft as you watched your husband crumble in your safety.

“even when i annoy you?”

“even when you annoy me,” you agreed, cracking a small smile.

“so all i’m hearing is,” he sniffled, inching closer to you, “that i annoy you.”

you giggled before straightening up, “would you rather i lie?”

he laughed, the sound snotty and nasally, “you’re so mean to your husband!”

you pushed your face up to press a kiss on his chin, “my husband seems to be enjoying himself, though.”

“that,” he grins down at you, eyes a bit red from crying, “is something my wife is correct about.”

you exhaled a breath, smiling gently up at him as you stepped back, “what’d you want for dinner, ‘toru?”

you should’ve expected it when he pulled you closer to him to say — “you.”

you would’ve rolled your eyes and called him corny but he picked you up, throwing you onto the bed before following you himself.

“sato—”

his mouth was on yours, swallowing your protests before they could leave your mouth. the kiss was hurried, almost desperate as he pried your lips apart, pushing his tongue in.

“mmpf—” you clutched at your husband’s shoulders, trying to ground yourself as satoru kissed the breath out of you.

“missed you,” he breathed before reattaching himself to your lips, giving you a split second to take in air.

you closed your eyes, giving into your husband’s sudden desire and letting him kiss you thoroughly. one of your hands traveled up to the back of his head.

satoru moaned when you grabbed a fist full of his hair, tugging at it. he pulled back to stare at you, chest heaving as took in the sight.

you were laid on your shared bed, hair willowing out on top of the pillow, staring at up with lidded eyes and dilated pupils.

satoru’s cock strained against his pants at the sight. he fought the urge to fold you in half and fuck you until morning came.

you watched your husband inhale deeply, pressing his nose into the side of your neck as he held his weight up on both his arms.

you ran your hands over his bulging forearms, straining under his weight. satoru’s chest rumbled in satisfaction at your touch, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe along your throat to your ear, tasting your skin.

he pressed a small kiss at the base of your throat, trailing his lips down your sternum as he unravelled your bathrobe, letting it fall open on your sides.

you gasped softly when he pressed a feather-light kiss just below your belly button. 

the heat at your core pulsating as your hand flew to the back of his head, gripping his hair as you held your breath waiting for him to descend down on you. 

satoru nosed along your slit, slick collecting at the lower half of his face. he inhaled deeply, pressing his nose against your skin. 

the obscenity of the situation made you tremble, the hand in his hair tightening as you bit your lip, “sa—”

“smell so good,” satoru murmured against your heat, placing kitten kisses upon it, “smells like home.” 

you cried out in surprise, throwing your head back as satoru slanted his face, connecting his lips to your vulva before suckling it harshly.  

satoru made out with your pussy, mumbling words of encouragement and praise as you writhed beneath him, tugging at his hair. 

your husband was still fully clothed but that didn’t stop him from grinding his painfully hard cock against the bedsheet, moaning into you as he ate you like a man starved. 

it wasn’t long before you were clamping your thighs down on your husband’s head, trapping it in between. satoru’s long and dexterous finger sliding in to make space for a second, then third as he lapped at your clit, teasing the nub until your belly started quivering. 

you came with a strangled moan, “s— toru— haah.. baby… wan you inside..” 

your husband rose up, hands pushing your legs back up. he licked his lips, the slick coating his chin. 

he had always been a messy eater. 

“what was that?” your husband murmured, his hands travelling up your sides, tracing your ribs before cupping your tits. 

your hands flew over his as he kneaded your breasts, eyes locking in with your husband’s teasing ones. 

“want you… inside…” you mumbled back, feeling inexplicably shy under satoru’s love filled gaze. 

“my beautiful wife,” satoru leaned down, closer to your chest. he pressed a kiss at the middle of your diaphragm, his eyes never leaving yours, “my beautiful, gorgeous wife.” 

“you’re mine,” he pressed a lasting kiss at the underside of your right breast, before moving onto the left, “you’re mine, forever.” 

you nodded, watching your husband kiss up your chest, “forever, baby.” 

“even if I don’t deserve you?” satoru asked, his tongue flattening on top of your nipple. 

you shook your head, “you’ll always deserve me.” 

satoru closed his eyes, a full body shudder passing through him. when he opened them back up, his eyes were lidded, dark and dilated. 

you only had a second for your breath to hitch before satoru rose up, pulling your ankle to drag you to the edge of the bed. 

he unzipped his trousers, pulling out his heavy cock in record time. 

you could only lay there on your elbows and watch, mesmerised, as satoru lined up his cock with your core, the combined heat from both of your sexes making you clench around air. 

satoru’s eyes took in the erotic sight, his wife’s pussy calling out to him, reminding him that he was just as missed as much as he missed you. 

his fingers delicately pulled at your chin, holding your face still so he could connect your lips. 

you closed your eyes, revelling in the feel of satoru’s soft lips gently kissing yours. 

and then he pushed in. 

you jerked back — or tried to. satoru held your jaw in his hand, tighter, his eyes now opened as he swallowed your cries and moans. 

his fat tip bullied its way past the tight ring of muscle, pushing and pushing inside and stealing your breath. 

satoru’s gaze was intent on your face, his breathing getting heavier as he felt down your scalding hot walls clenching and tightening against his cock. 

your hands grabbed onto satoru’s arms, holding on for dear life as your husband sheathed inside of you, fully. 

you felt so full you could hardly breathe. satoru released your face, letting you fall back on the pillow as he rose up to look down at the glorious sight. 

his cock twitched inside of you, your tummy bulging ever so slightly to display the shape of his cock. you fisted the sheets, trying to regulate your breathing as your husband blatantly stared down at your flushed form struggling to take all of him. 

satoru could cum just from looking at you like this. 

satoru’s hands gripped at your hips, swiftly pulling a pillow to place it beneath you. 

“wanted me– hngh.. inside… right, baby?” satoru mock pouted down at you, his finger wiping away at the moisture on your cheek. 

“‘s t’full…” you whimpered, thighs trembling slightly as you got better used to the fullness. 

s’okay baby,” satoru pulled his hips back, tantalisingly slowly. you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock, pulsating with need.

you whined, eyebrows furrowing as your husband withdrew his cock so that just his tip was barely inside of you. it felt insanely more lewd than anything you both had done upto now, and it was driving you crazy, being stretched out like so, yet so empty.

“stop teasing toru,” you tried to snap at him but it came out as a whine.

“yeah?” he breathed, gaze snapping up from where he was inside you to your face. his eyes glinted mischievously as his hands settled on your waist.

satoru tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, lulling you into relaxing before abruptly shoving the rest of his cock in.

the suddenness, taking you by surprise, lead you to squeak. satoru chuckled, before all semblances of your soft, delicate husband disappeared for the night.

he had your hips pinned down on the bed, his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy, making loud and embarrassing plap! plap! plap! noises as you held onto your husband’s shoulders for dear life.

“my sweet girl wans my cock..” he cooes, mockingly, bringing his hand down on your clit to tease it.

your toes curled from the burst of warmth you could feel in your veins from your husband’s actions. you bit your lip, trying to hold onto the barrage of moans trying to escape as satoru fucked you into the mattress.

satoru pressed his finger down on your nub, making you writhe and cry out, “don’t bite your lips, baby.”

“toru… slow– hngh… hah! plea–” you babbled, head thrashing side to side as satoru’s thrusts made the bed move with him, creaking and mixing with your moans.

“n- nuh-uh…” he tutted, increasing the tempo of his thrusts. he loved teasing you, but his balls were getting heavier by the second and there was only so long he could hold out for when you were under him, pliant, sexy and so full of his cock.

he just needed to put a baby in there soon.

his balls hit the junction below your pussy at each thrust, intensifying your reaction. yoy curled your fingers, nails digging into your husband’s shoulders as you neared your peak.

satoru felt your walls tightening on him. he ground his jaw, trying his best to keep himself leashed ecen though he wanted to paint your walls red and fuck his cum back into you again and again until it takes.

“satoru… m’close,” you warned him, still holding onto him in order to not slide up the bed from the intensity of his thrusts. your orgasm was building and fast. you could almost taste your release.

satoru grabbed your jaw, bringing your face to his before mashing your lips together. you looped your arms around his neck as you cried out into his mouth, constricting around your husband’s cock, riding out your orgasm.

satoru snapped his eye shut, a vein in his jaw ticking as he exhaled harshly, holding your hips as close to his as he finally spilled inside of you, a full body shudder passing through him.

the sight made you clench around him, milking him as he came.

panting, he fell on top of you, adjusting so majority of his weight was on the bed instead.

“i love you, baby.”

“me too but.. you’re still inside me.”

he nuzzled your neck, feeling his soft cock hardening again, “isn’t that funny?”

all that after you just showered.

— — —

nerdjo (nsfw) | satoru caring for you while you’re on your period (sfw/fluff)

[dorkinit4ever]

I dream I had about Gojo last night •∘˙˚

tags. :Childhoodbestfriend!gojo x fem!reader: :pining (both ways): :slight angst?: :might flesh this out later: :cuddles and forehead kisses: :ps also nerd!jo:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(︶｡︶)zzZ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could visually see the light bulb flicker to life above Suguru's head, even before he shot up from the dew sprinkled quad.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Oh and Satoru of course..." he sighed at that. "I just had an epiphany! Let's have a sleep over in... Drum roll please... An abandoned supermarket! I know just the place too."

Which Satoru promptly sits up with freight, his head leaving your lap in a smear of white. His eyes were wide at the thought of being in such a place at night.

Just as he opens his mouth to spew some sort of protest your hand is already there at the nape of his neck lightly twirling the fine hairs, soothing him temporarily as his ears turn red.

"Don't freak Satoru out like that Suguru. He can barely play Phasmophobia with us, that sounds like the most haunted shit ever." Satoru nodded feverishly as grip on your hand tightened as you voiced his exact thoughts.

"Trust me guys! This place just closed down still has some stuff and... Electricity! We could even play some party games to lighten the mood! I'll even bring a shit ton blankets too! Just this once, if we hate it we'll leave." Now Satoru was effectively wrapped around you, arms wrapped from behind, legs bracketing yours, as if using you as a shield to hide from Suguru.

"Hard no, Suguru." As soon as Satoru finished shooting down the raven-haired man he leaned down to whisper into your ear, "Are you going?"

"Seems interesting, I might."

Just as quickly as Satoru declined he changed his mind. "Never mind I'm going." Spending time with you is spending time with you after all.

Shoko silently watched this scene unfold, giving Suguru that knowing glance. Which Suguru passed back, a silent shared thought between the two.

How in the hell do they not know that they're in love with each other?

Nearly half of campus thought you were dating already, and the other half already were suspecting it. Yet neither of you had made a singular move except for 'platonic', 'normal-for-best-friends' cheek kisses.

Just as Shoko's and Suguru's shared gaze flicked back to you, Shoko's phone blared. "Sorry to interrupt this amazing planning right now but I have a lecture in about three minutes. Text me the deets, see ya there." she says dryly as she snoozes the alarm.

"Oh shit, I need to get my tutoring hours in too." The white-haired dork quickly packs his things, standing up and throwing his book bag onto his broad shoulders.

He helps you up off the grass, taking both of your hands in his and pulling you up. Before he departs he brushes his lips against your knuckles, "I'll swing by your dorm after I'm done," he drops your hands. "See you then."

"Don't miss me too much, 'kay 'Toru?" You wave him off after he pouts and mumbling something along the lines of 'I'll try...' as he walks off.

Suguru eyes the two of you one last time before offering to walk you back to your dorm, since the two of you were neighbors.

Once home and in more comfortable clothing you ask Suguru about the details in your shared group chat. To which he replied with a god awful time while he insisted on driving because it was 'his idea'.

With a sigh of resonance you toss your phone else where onto your bed as you get to work on your hefty work load. And speaking of loading, the second Satoru knock, knock, knocked on your door all you two did was freeload and watch dumb shows that gave him the excuse to use you for warmth.

Eventually, with Herculean effort, you were able to shoo him away to get ready for the upcoming 'haunted slumber party'. Satoru's words not yours.

After fidgeting with your weather app for a bit too longer you decided on your outfit. You figured a pajama set and one thick sweater would do the trick.

Wrong.

Weather app lied to your face. To this day you still don't know how to feel.

By the time Suguru came back after flipping the electricity on you were shivering. This is why Satoru always layers up, even if he's already overheating.

The second your teeth slightly clinked together you had Satoru's brown leather jacket draped over your shoulders and his scarf around your neck. Though you felt bad about the possibility of him being cold, that worrying was only because you couldn't see the three more layers under his hoodie.

Suguru eagerly layered blanket after blanket and pillow after pillow in what was maybe had been a camping supplies section before the abandonment of the store.

"This is going to be a disaster. Suguru's gonna get possessed and I didn't bring a bible or holy water with me. We're going to have just ditch him and run if that happens I guess..." Satoru pessimistically sighs out.

"It won't be that horrible, I'll box the ghost if it tries anything. I pinky promise." You try to soothe, but then Satoru interjects again.

"And if the ghost possesses you next?"

"Try true love's kiss on me I dare you. Who knows? It just might work." That shuts up Satoru realll fast.

"Come lay down guys! We can play spin the bottle? I know you people aren't down for strip poker so I just brought UNO instead if you want to do that too I guess..." Suguru intervened saving Satoru from embarrassment, bringing such a gleeful thing in such a glum place.

You drag Satoru by the hand to the sandwiched blankets on the floor. "Let's do spin the bottle first." Shoko adds into the mix, hoping at least something would happen between you too.

"I volunteer Satoru." In unison you all point and the poor nerd.

"I-Wha-Huh-That-That's unfair!!!" Satoru stammers out before he accepts his defeat and reaches of the glass bottle.

This weeb audibly gulps, brushing his fingertips against the smooth surface once more before flicking his wrist.

The bottle spins, and spins, and spins, and spins, and spinsss!!!

Then slows to a stop, the lip pointing in... your direction! And you don't even protest, just turning towards him and waiting!

Snow white eyebrows knit and furrow and as quickly as the bottle spun his soft, plump, pink lips close in pressing a hard brief kiss right on your lips!

But you leave it at that.

And he swerves around to scold the smug look of your audiences' faces.

Later into the night and way more games (and drinks) later Suguru and Shoko are passed out drunk. While you and Satoru are snuggled under a shared blanket, just enjoying the other's presence. (Even if they were both snoring loud enough to scare any homeless people off.)

"This night wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe 'cause of you." folding the arms of his glasses inward on themself he sets them aside and buries his face in your neck. "Fooling Shoko and Suguru was also a blast. They probably thought that was our first kiss."

You huff a laugh out as you pull him closer and lightly itch at his back, "You enjoy their suffering too much." He just hums and plants a sleepy kiss to your neck.

"You think we should tell them that we've been dating soon?"

.

.

.

plagiarism is not allowed

a/n. in my dream, we just cuddled on the floor of a supermarket but I think this is better <33

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[dorkinit4ever]

THE HANAHAKI CASES

case file no.1 - satoru gojo

tags. :MDNI: :gojoxreader: :fem!reader: :hanahaki disease: :unrequited love: :angst: :established love: :NO established relationship: :flower language: :reader is a teacher like gojo: :soft gojo: :gore: :vivid depictions of blood: :BLOOD: :lowk body horror?: :smut: :fluff: :p in v: :happy ending: :canon gojo: :nsfw:

w/c. 2.8k

hanahaki disease - noun

~ when unrequited, suppressed, or one-sided love physically manifests as flowers growing in one's lungs. resulting in coughing up flower petals or fully matured flowers.

A/N. boi I love hanahaki as a trope for gojo. will make this a series btw stay tuned for the other jjk men

“Great job everybody!! As a reward for your amazing efforts, me, your glorious sensei, brought you kikufuku!!” Gojo’s voice echoed through the courtyard as he held up two parchment bags, his students’ ‘rewards’.

“Thank you sensei!” Yuji shouted with equal enthusiasm as Megumi glanced away, already tired of Gojo’s antics for the day.

“Sorry to rain on your parade guys, but I was just sent to tell Gojo he has a mission.” you cut in, giving them a sorry smile.

For a moment Gojo seemed happy to see you… before the word ‘mission’ left your mouth. He groaned, “Do I have to?...” his sculpted deltoids slumping at the thought. Rubbing his shoulder you try to comfort him. “Well it should be quick, it's close.”

“You know what? You’re right! Only a minor inconvenience for The Strongest. Class dismissed for today. Get lots of rest for tomorrow!" Gojo waved his hand in a ‘shoo’ motion as he turned to you, taking the mission report from your hand. 

With a thumb he slips up part of his blindfold, uncovering one of his summer blue eyes. He quickly scans the page and lowers the fabric back over his eye. “Thanks for the heads up. I better get going.” even as he says that he doesn’t move to leave.

“It’s no problem, really.” you disregard, waving your hands out in front of your chest.

“...” Gojo could feel the heat crawling up his neck and touching the tips of his ears. “Yeah, yeah… Uh thanks anyways, talk to you later.”

“You too and good luck with your mission! See you around, Satoru.” You waved one last time, taking it as your cue to leave and walked away. Still as you walked away Gojo’s gaze followed your signature, “Will do…” he muttered, his heart louder than his words.

Once he couldn’t feel an ounce of your cursed energy, that’s when he decided to finally leave where his feet were planted. Shaking off the feeling in his chest, teleporting where the curse was spotted last.

Much later he returns to his too-empty, dark home. Deservingly exhausted and already drifting to his too-sweet sakura mochi to stimulate his brain before he worked on his imposing mound of paperwork. Stuffing two or more pieces of mochi into his mouth before moving to his dresser to grab a pair of clean clothes and shower.

He finally swallows the mochi in his mouth, his adam apple bobbing with the action. Stripping off his uniform jacket and shirt, Gojo notices the blooming purple mark on his shoulder blade. Damn nullifying cursed technique. 

He got too sloppy today. His hand reaches to test the bruise, watching the purple blob shift with  his back muscles. Folding himself into a crouch he grabs ointment for after his shower. After washing, rinsing, and scrubbing his body until it was red and raw Gojo pumps a few dollops of his lotion and rubs it into his heated skin and the ointment for that nasty bruise.

Finally pulling clean clothes on, not bothering with his blindfold, leaving it by the sink.

After cleansing himself, he begrudgingly drags his feet to his office. Almost reading to face his mountain of mission reports. Why did he even have to fill these things out? Missions went faster than blinking for him.

Just as his fingers hovered over the papers and his keyboard, Gojo’s phone buzzed with a text from you.

loml:

| im bored lets do smth satoru

blue eyed freak:

| nanamin gave me even more work tho T-T

loml:

| get a load of this guy

| when have you ever done ur work?

Oh you can get my load, no, no. Delete, delete. Don’t be weird Gojo. Still you had a point.

blue eyed freak:

| you know me too well…

| what do you even want to do?

| get something greasy?

loml:

| a new burger joint did just open up 👀👀

| im down if ur down

blue eyed freak:

| consider me down 

| courtyard in 10?

loml: 

| ok its a date then!

“Yeah a date…” he giggled to himself in his empty office. Kicking his feet he huffs out another giggle, “Date.” As he was caught up in his delusions, Gojo missed the orchid petal that fell out of his mouth.

His huge smile didn’t falter as he got ready, spending a good five minutes just deciding if his outfit made him look hot or not. Eventually settling on one of those tight shirts that the women usually liked and a pair of loose grey jeans.

Pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, he triple checks he has everything before teleporting just outside the courtyard so it seemed like he walked. (He was almost late) Finally arriving at your meet spot Gojo stopped dead in his tracks.

Aren’t you just stunning? So soft looking with that flowery sundress, twisting and twirling a lock of your hair. Now he felt bad for ruining this sight as you caught him staring and walked up to him.

“You ready to go? I’ll lead the way. It’s near enough to walk.” Gojo could only dumbly nod and follow you like a lost puppy.

As the day went on, he was a gentleman through and through. Opening doors for you, paying for everything, even carrying your purse when you asked. Though you guys did get sidetracked and did more than get burgers and got lost…

“Damn, when’d it get so late?” Gojo muttered, you just shrugged tiredly. “Come on, don’t fall asleep on me now. I’ll get us a cab back, just hang tight.” he reassured you. You tried to reach for his hand to keep yourself steady, but he just jerked back his hand. Shoving his hand into his pocket before he broke into a coughing fit.

He swerved around, facing his back to you as he harshly coughed into his hand. “Hey, are you okay, Satoru?” When you tried to place a hand on his back, he weakly swatted it away. “I’m f-fine!”

Once the coughing died down, he pulled his hand back from his face. “What the fuck?..” he whispered to himself as he stared down at the pale pink petals in his palm. That were now stained with his own blood. 

Gojo crushed the orchid petals when he closed his fingers around them, stuffing them in his pocket. “I’m fine.” he repeated as he wiped the blood from his lips.

“You know I’ll just teleport us home, ‘kay? I think something came up.”

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird-” Gojo just gripped your hand and suddenly you're at your doorstep. As soon as you got your bearings, Gojo blurted out, “Okay,Ihadagreattime.Haveagoodnight,sleepwell!” Just like that he was gone.

His front door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing throughout his house while his chest heaved with panic. Eyes wide as he slapped a hand over his mouth, as more petals slipped through the spaces between his fingers.

.

.

.

You saw Satoru very little after that night. Left wondering if you did something wrong. Maybe you were too forward? Who knows.

For a bit you’d catch him behind a building, but whenever you did he was always coughing. When he’d catch you staring he’d teleport away. You chased after him each time, only to find pale pink orchid petals in his place.

Was he allergic to orchids? You did wear orchid scented perfume around him that night…

Now you felt bad, maybe that’s why he was avoiding you.

loml:

| gm!

| wanna go somewhere for breakfast??

| we should get croissants

| hey how was ur day?

| saw you earlier 

| thinking about u

| got u ur favorite mochi

| why have you been such a stranger recently?

| everyone is asking where u are…

| are you seriously going to leave me on read?

| everyone misses u

| including me (even nanami)

| that’s it im coming over

blue eyed freak:

| pls dnt

loml:

| now you wanna answer me?

| too late im coming

When you arrived at Satoru’s house the house itself seemed dead and desaturated. You tried calling him, only to hear his ringtone echo throughout the house and through the door for you to hear. You tried to call him again. You knocked over and over again to no avail.

After many failed attempts of trying to have him let you in, you searched for his spare key. Audibly hearing the lock come undone, the sound bouncing off the walls. 

God, what happened to his house? Orchid petals, some crushed, some intact and blood, where likely tried to clean up but just couldn’t keep up, nearly everywhere. The house too quiet. Before you could inspect further you hear this hoarse retching and coughing coming from the bathroom.

You rush to the sound, stopping in the doorway when you find him.

There’s where Satoru is. Strong frame now hunched over and quivering above the toilet seat, coughing up copious amounts of orchids amidst a thin stream of crimson coming from his throat. With blood decorating the skin around his mouth and pure exhaustion etched into his eyes. Disheveled ivory hair held back with a hand. For someone usually so alert it takes him a moment before he realizes that you’re there.

“I-I told you not to,” more coughing. “Come…”

Dropping to your knees next to Satoru, turning his face to yours with shaky hands as your eyes well up with tears. “Oh my goodness what’s wrong? Is this why you’ve been avoiding us? Why couldn’t you tell me?...”

“Why do you care? I-I’m fine… The strongest always gets back on his feet.” he coughs again, but you don’t mind the blood that splatters across your cheek or the petal that lands on your nose. You just keep holding his face.

“Satoru, you're not answering my question.” your voice cracks, a tear slipping down your cheek turning red once passing that splotch of wine red.

“Why are you here? Just go. I’m not w-weak like this.” his lip shakes like he’s trying not to cry as well, chest heaving with the effort of trying to breathe properly with the rapidly blooming flowers in his lungs.

“Because I was worried, Satoru! Because I love you and you don’t get how scared I got when you just… disappeared!” you whimpered out, letting the tears fall freely.

“You l-love me?” he inhales eyes widening, the first clear breath he’s had after all of this started. Nothing clogging his airways now.

“More than anything…” you quietly sigh out, tears streaming down your face. 

The entire room just… stops.

Satoru freezes.

His breathing, which had been ragged and shallow for days, suddenly stills. Slowly, almost cautiously, he inhales.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, the breath goes in cleanly.

No stabbing pain in his chest. No petals catching in his throat. No blood.

Just air.

His eyes widened slightly, realization hitting him all at once. The disease is gone.

And the emotional release after days of suffering hit him all at once.

He doesn’t even try to hold himself up anymore.

He just collapses forward into you.

For someone as big and strong as him, the way he clings to you is almost startling. His arms wrap around you tightly. Like he’s afraid that if he loosens his grip even a little you might disappear.

His face presses into your shoulder, breath still shaky but finally steady. And then, very quietly, almost like he’s afraid to say it too loudly in case the moment disappears…

“I love you.”

The words are barely above a whisper.

He says them again. And again. Over and over, like he’s making up for all the times he never thought he’d get the chance to say them.

Just soft, exhausted, and completely sincere while he holds onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

You hold him, just like he’s always needed to be held, playing with his hair like it’s the most natural thing ever. Because to you… It is.

Then Satoru speaks up again, his voice incredibly soft and a tad hoarse still, “Can I kiss you?.. Please?..” You barely nod before he’s pressing his lips to yours. His mouth tasting of blood and pollen, smearing his blood across your lips like velvet lip gloss.

Satoru paused, his breath catching as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth, unable to pull away. Seemingly after getting a taste of you, his exhaustion disappeared, sliding his forearm from your lower back to under your ass lifting you easily into his bedroom.

Toppling onto his bed he lands on you before rolling onto his side. Taking both of your hands into his and kissing each of your knuckles, his lips lingering on your left ring finger. Finally kissing your lips one more time with a dramatic mwahh! As he holds your hands against his face.

“Can’t believe I get to have you like this now… What did I do to get so lucky?”

“You deserve it, Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He ends up kissing you again, making up for lost time. Then eventually slipping his tongue into your mouth taking it slower this time though. Savoring it. Like your mouth was the sweetest mochi he has ever had.

Pulling you on top of him he kneaded the fat of your hips, prodding your pulse point with his nose. Moving upward, pressing his cheek to yours as if there’s too much space between you. Slipping his hands under your shirt he traces little hearts along your sides.

Kissing his way down your neck Satoru sucks at your collarbone, nipping then laving over it with his tongue. This draws a small moan out from you, which he pauses at. “Oh?” he breathes out, before a shit eating grin forms on his face

.

.

.

No only an hour later does Satoru have you face down into his pillows as he slowly plows into you from behind. A creamy froth already forming at the base of his cock as he slowly pushes in and out, nuzzling his face between your shoulder blades.

“Mmmph… do you even know how warm you are?.. How fucking soaked you are f’me?” he sighs into your skin, never have felt so… satisfied before. “Even better than I imagined…”

With every thrust against your g-spot makes your cunt throb and grip the sheets a bit harder. “‘S too much, ‘Toru…”

“You can take it.” he encourages pressing his palm against the bulge of your stomach, making some of your combined cum gush out around his dick. Taking your hair and moving it aside to kiss your nape, “You’re already taking me so well… J-Just a lil’ more, darling.” That’s when he started faltering, his breathe getting shaky and thrusts getting sloppier and faster.

“Oh g-god… don’t clench around me li-like that..” Satoru whines against your neck.

“‘M close, S’toru…” you said as you tread your fingers through his hair.

“Me too…” he reaches down and pinches your clit, making you yelp and pull on his hair, drawing a deep moan from Satoru. Picking up his pace, his hips slapping against your ass. Going even faster, slamming his tip against your cervix, dragging his veins along your goey, melty walls.

He leaks more pre against the end of your pussy before he fully unloads into you. Filled you to the brim for nth time with his sticky, webby, warmth. Doing shallow lil’ thrust back n’ forth drawing both of your highs out.

After finishing stuffing you full he just crashes on top of you. “Mm, fuck… Love you, sweets…” He keeps you plugged up with his softening cock peppering the side of your face with kisses. “Waited so long to do this…”

“Mhmm..” you try to move, feelling Satoru’s cum sloshin’ around in you made you stop.

.

.

.

After a couple of months dating Yuji caught you making out during lunch, to which you had to explain that you had been dating Satoru to your students and Satoru had to explain his profound love for you to his students. In reality he was just happy now that you could hold hands in public. Or steal your food without being sneaky about it. Or not having to pretend he doesn’t love you with every ounce of his heart.

Then when a year passed and a mysterious metal band appeared on Satoru’s finger he just had to rant about how he was now engaged to the most beautiful, amazing, smart, sexy woman in the entire universe in a dreamy tone. Who then proceeded to invite his students to his up coming wedding.

When on that one day with his hair somewhat tamed and his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you walk down the aisle, with that bouquet of orchids. The same pale pink ones that fill every vase at the venue. And Satoru swore he wasn’t going to cry during vows but can feel his eyes getting glassy from just seeing you pull out your flashcard.

As Satoru leans in he can’t help but be excited for what the rest of his life will be like with you.

CASE NO.1 : CLOSED ~ LOVE RETURNED! ♡♡♡

A/N. I hope you enjoyed lovelys its up to you if you guys have kids but toru wants at least seven. sukuna is brewing next possibly...

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plagerism is not allowed...... @dorkinit4ever

[gojosluut]

Husband Satoru during bulking season

ᥫ᭡.

Satoru always had a big appetite especially when it came to sweets. But in the following weeks of winter you noticed his appetite dramatically increased.

He would take extras of whatever you cooked for breakfast, told you to pack him more of those protein bars that tasted like artificial birthday cake, asked you to cook extra of whatever meat you cooked for dinner, Overall he just became more of a glutton than he already was.

One night you finally noticed the changes in his body.

He was changing out of his sorcerer uniform. His back was broader being able to see some of his muscles when he moved just right, he turned around as he fixed his baggy t-shirt from being inside out. Your eyes scan his front. Chest heavier, arms bigger yet looked a little soft, and his abs not as defined anymore.

He was fucking huge.

his eyes follow your gaze on him white eyebrow quirking upwards with that stupid knowing grin spreading across his lips. One long stride over to the bed his large hands go on either side of your hips on the mattress - large body looming over you looking down at you.

“you’ve been staring at me all night, wanna tell me that’s all about?” his voice teasingly low, of course he got a kick out of you eyeing him up since he took off his shirt.

you swallowed hard your eyes trailing from his soft abs up at his face, his lips still plastered with that stupid grin of his.

“you’re huge,” is all you could manage to say with how intensely he was looking at you his blue eyes having that crazy glow to them.

Satoru sighs out a chuckle, large hands leaving the mattress landing on your waist gently pushing you down flat on the plush mattress before completely smothering you with his huge body making you let out noise from how overwhelmingly heavy he is.

“Satoru! get off,” you whine weakly. hands smacking his broad upper back that just made him chuckle again. His nose dips down into your neck placing soft kisses against the warm skin.

“but you’ve been looking at me all night like you’re gonna eat me,” he says in between kisses on your neck making you squirm weakly under him.

“that’s only because you look different,” you groan weakly still trying to get out from under his crashing body.

Satoru lifts his head up looking down at you with a slight pout

“good different or bad different?”

you sigh with relief, atleast half his weight is off you now

“obviously a good different,” you reply softly looking up at him. Chest lightly heaving from catching your breath after just being crushed by him.

then with full force he smothers you again with his entire body weight, his lips overwhelming your face in kisses.

“i knew you love it,” he grins against your cheek before attacking it again with soft kisses making you sigh knowing you’d be under him for awhile.

ᥫ᭡.

(semi proof read)

[dorkinit4ever]

THE HANAHAKI CASES

case file no.1 - satoru gojo

tags. :MDNI: :gojoxreader: :fem!reader: :hanahaki disease: :unrequited love: :angst: :established love: :NO established relationship: :flower language: :reader is a teacher like gojo: :soft gojo: :gore: :vivid depictions of blood: :BLOOD: :lowk body horror?: :smut: :fluff: :p in v: :happy ending: :canon gojo: :nsfw:

w/c. 2.8k

hanahaki disease - noun

~ when unrequited, suppressed, or one-sided love physically manifests as flowers growing in one's lungs. resulting in coughing up flower petals or fully matured flowers.

A/N. boi I love hanahaki as a trope for gojo. will make this a series btw stay tuned for the other jjk men

“Great job everybody!! As a reward for your amazing efforts, me, your glorious sensei, brought you kikufuku!!” Gojo’s voice echoed through the courtyard as he held up two parchment bags, his students’ ‘rewards’.

“Thank you sensei!” Yuji shouted with equal enthusiasm as Megumi glanced away, already tired of Gojo’s antics for the day.

“Sorry to rain on your parade guys, but I was just sent to tell Gojo he has a mission.” you cut in, giving them a sorry smile.

For a moment Gojo seemed happy to see you… before the word ‘mission’ left your mouth. He groaned, “Do I have to?...” his sculpted deltoids slumping at the thought. Rubbing his shoulder you try to comfort him. “Well it should be quick, it's close.”

“You know what? You’re right! Only a minor inconvenience for The Strongest. Class dismissed for today. Get lots of rest for tomorrow!" Gojo waved his hand in a ‘shoo’ motion as he turned to you, taking the mission report from your hand. 

With a thumb he slips up part of his blindfold, uncovering one of his summer blue eyes. He quickly scans the page and lowers the fabric back over his eye. “Thanks for the heads up. I better get going.” even as he says that he doesn’t move to leave.

“It’s no problem, really.” you disregard, waving your hands out in front of your chest.

“...” Gojo could feel the heat crawling up his neck and touching the tips of his ears. “Yeah, yeah… Uh thanks anyways, talk to you later.”

“You too and good luck with your mission! See you around, Satoru.” You waved one last time, taking it as your cue to leave and walked away. Still as you walked away Gojo’s gaze followed your signature, “Will do…” he muttered, his heart louder than his words.

Once he couldn’t feel an ounce of your cursed energy, that’s when he decided to finally leave where his feet were planted. Shaking off the feeling in his chest, teleporting where the curse was spotted last.

Much later he returns to his too-empty, dark home. Deservingly exhausted and already drifting to his too-sweet sakura mochi to stimulate his brain before he worked on his imposing mound of paperwork. Stuffing two or more pieces of mochi into his mouth before moving to his dresser to grab a pair of clean clothes and shower.

He finally swallows the mochi in his mouth, his adam apple bobbing with the action. Stripping off his uniform jacket and shirt, Gojo notices the blooming purple mark on his shoulder blade. Damn nullifying cursed technique. 

He got too sloppy today. His hand reaches to test the bruise, watching the purple blob shift with  his back muscles. Folding himself into a crouch he grabs ointment for after his shower. After washing, rinsing, and scrubbing his body until it was red and raw Gojo pumps a few dollops of his lotion and rubs it into his heated skin and the ointment for that nasty bruise.

Finally pulling clean clothes on, not bothering with his blindfold, leaving it by the sink.

After cleansing himself, he begrudgingly drags his feet to his office. Almost reading to face his mountain of mission reports. Why did he even have to fill these things out? Missions went faster than blinking for him.

Just as his fingers hovered over the papers and his keyboard, Gojo’s phone buzzed with a text from you.

loml:

| im bored lets do smth satoru

blue eyed freak:

| nanamin gave me even more work tho T-T

loml:

| get a load of this guy

| when have you ever done ur work?

Oh you can get my load, no, no. Delete, delete. Don’t be weird Gojo. Still you had a point.

blue eyed freak:

| you know me too well…

| what do you even want to do?

| get something greasy?

loml:

| a new burger joint did just open up 👀👀

| im down if ur down

blue eyed freak:

| consider me down 

| courtyard in 10?

loml: 

| ok its a date then!

“Yeah a date…” he giggled to himself in his empty office. Kicking his feet he huffs out another giggle, “Date.” As he was caught up in his delusions, Gojo missed the orchid petal that fell out of his mouth.

His huge smile didn’t falter as he got ready, spending a good five minutes just deciding if his outfit made him look hot or not. Eventually settling on one of those tight shirts that the women usually liked and a pair of loose grey jeans.

Pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, he triple checks he has everything before teleporting just outside the courtyard so it seemed like he walked. (He was almost late) Finally arriving at your meet spot Gojo stopped dead in his tracks.

Aren’t you just stunning? So soft looking with that flowery sundress, twisting and twirling a lock of your hair. Now he felt bad for ruining this sight as you caught him staring and walked up to him.

“You ready to go? I’ll lead the way. It’s near enough to walk.” Gojo could only dumbly nod and follow you like a lost puppy.

As the day went on, he was a gentleman through and through. Opening doors for you, paying for everything, even carrying your purse when you asked. Though you guys did get sidetracked and did more than get burgers and got lost…

“Damn, when’d it get so late?” Gojo muttered, you just shrugged tiredly. “Come on, don’t fall asleep on me now. I’ll get us a cab back, just hang tight.” he reassured you. You tried to reach for his hand to keep yourself steady, but he just jerked back his hand. Shoving his hand into his pocket before he broke into a coughing fit.

He swerved around, facing his back to you as he harshly coughed into his hand. “Hey, are you okay, Satoru?” When you tried to place a hand on his back, he weakly swatted it away. “I’m f-fine!”

Once the coughing died down, he pulled his hand back from his face. “What the fuck?..” he whispered to himself as he stared down at the pale pink petals in his palm. That were now stained with his own blood. 

Gojo crushed the orchid petals when he closed his fingers around them, stuffing them in his pocket. “I’m fine.” he repeated as he wiped the blood from his lips.

“You know I’ll just teleport us home, ‘kay? I think something came up.”

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird-” Gojo just gripped your hand and suddenly you're at your doorstep. As soon as you got your bearings, Gojo blurted out, “Okay,Ihadagreattime.Haveagoodnight,sleepwell!” Just like that he was gone.

His front door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing throughout his house while his chest heaved with panic. Eyes wide as he slapped a hand over his mouth, as more petals slipped through the spaces between his fingers.

.

.

.

You saw Satoru very little after that night. Left wondering if you did something wrong. Maybe you were too forward? Who knows.

For a bit you’d catch him behind a building, but whenever you did he was always coughing. When he’d catch you staring he’d teleport away. You chased after him each time, only to find pale pink orchid petals in his place.

Was he allergic to orchids? You did wear orchid scented perfume around him that night…

Now you felt bad, maybe that’s why he was avoiding you.

loml:

| gm!

| wanna go somewhere for breakfast??

| we should get croissants

| hey how was ur day?

| saw you earlier 

| thinking about u

| got u ur favorite mochi

| why have you been such a stranger recently?

| everyone is asking where u are…

| are you seriously going to leave me on read?

| everyone misses u

| including me (even nanami)

| that’s it im coming over

blue eyed freak:

| pls dnt

loml:

| now you wanna answer me?

| too late im coming

When you arrived at Satoru’s house the house itself seemed dead and desaturated. You tried calling him, only to hear his ringtone echo throughout the house and through the door for you to hear. You tried to call him again. You knocked over and over again to no avail.

After many failed attempts of trying to have him let you in, you searched for his spare key. Audibly hearing the lock come undone, the sound bouncing off the walls. 

God, what happened to his house? Orchid petals, some crushed, some intact and blood, where likely tried to clean up but just couldn’t keep up, nearly everywhere. The house too quiet. Before you could inspect further you hear this hoarse retching and coughing coming from the bathroom.

You rush to the sound, stopping in the doorway when you find him.

There’s where Satoru is. Strong frame now hunched over and quivering above the toilet seat, coughing up copious amounts of orchids amidst a thin stream of crimson coming from his throat. With blood decorating the skin around his mouth and pure exhaustion etched into his eyes. Disheveled ivory hair held back with a hand. For someone usually so alert it takes him a moment before he realizes that you’re there.

“I-I told you not to,” more coughing. “Come…”

Dropping to your knees next to Satoru, turning his face to yours with shaky hands as your eyes well up with tears. “Oh my goodness what’s wrong? Is this why you’ve been avoiding us? Why couldn’t you tell me?...”

“Why do you care? I-I’m fine… The strongest always gets back on his feet.” he coughs again, but you don’t mind the blood that splatters across your cheek or the petal that lands on your nose. You just keep holding his face.

“Satoru, you're not answering my question.” your voice cracks, a tear slipping down your cheek turning red once passing that splotch of wine red.

“Why are you here? Just go. I’m not w-weak like this.” his lip shakes like he’s trying not to cry as well, chest heaving with the effort of trying to breathe properly with the rapidly blooming flowers in his lungs.

“Because I was worried, Satoru! Because I love you and you don’t get how scared I got when you just… disappeared!” you whimpered out, letting the tears fall freely.

“You l-love me?” he inhales eyes widening, the first clear breath he’s had after all of this started. Nothing clogging his airways now.

“More than anything…” you quietly sigh out, tears streaming down your face. 

The entire room just… stops.

Satoru freezes.

His breathing, which had been ragged and shallow for days, suddenly stills. Slowly, almost cautiously, he inhales.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, the breath goes in cleanly.

No stabbing pain in his chest. No petals catching in his throat. No blood.

Just air.

His eyes widened slightly, realization hitting him all at once. The disease is gone.

And the emotional release after days of suffering hit him all at once.

He doesn’t even try to hold himself up anymore.

He just collapses forward into you.

For someone as big and strong as him, the way he clings to you is almost startling. His arms wrap around you tightly. Like he’s afraid that if he loosens his grip even a little you might disappear.

His face presses into your shoulder, breath still shaky but finally steady. And then, very quietly, almost like he’s afraid to say it too loudly in case the moment disappears…

“I love you.”

The words are barely above a whisper.

He says them again. And again. Over and over, like he’s making up for all the times he never thought he’d get the chance to say them.

Just soft, exhausted, and completely sincere while he holds onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

You hold him, just like he’s always needed to be held, playing with his hair like it’s the most natural thing ever. Because to you… It is.

Then Satoru speaks up again, his voice incredibly soft and a tad hoarse still, “Can I kiss you?.. Please?..” You barely nod before he’s pressing his lips to yours. His mouth tasting of blood and pollen, smearing his blood across your lips like velvet lip gloss.

Satoru paused, his breath catching as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth, unable to pull away. Seemingly after getting a taste of you, his exhaustion disappeared, sliding his forearm from your lower back to under your ass lifting you easily into his bedroom.

Toppling onto his bed he lands on you before rolling onto his side. Taking both of your hands into his and kissing each of your knuckles, his lips lingering on your left ring finger. Finally kissing your lips one more time with a dramatic mwahh! As he holds your hands against his face.

“Can’t believe I get to have you like this now… What did I do to get so lucky?”

“You deserve it, Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He ends up kissing you again, making up for lost time. Then eventually slipping his tongue into your mouth taking it slower this time though. Savoring it. Like your mouth was the sweetest mochi he has ever had.

Pulling you on top of him he kneaded the fat of your hips, prodding your pulse point with his nose. Moving upward, pressing his cheek to yours as if there’s too much space between you. Slipping his hands under your shirt he traces little hearts along your sides.

Kissing his way down your neck Satoru sucks at your collarbone, nipping then laving over it with his tongue. This draws a small moan out from you, which he pauses at. “Oh?” he breathes out, before a shit eating grin forms on his face

.

.

.

No only an hour later does Satoru have you face down into his pillows as he slowly plows into you from behind. A creamy froth already forming at the base of his cock as he slowly pushes in and out, nuzzling his face between your shoulder blades.

“Mmmph… do you even know how warm you are?.. How fucking soaked you are f’me?” he sighs into your skin, never have felt so… satisfied before. “Even better than I imagined…”

With every thrust against your g-spot makes your cunt throb and grip the sheets a bit harder. “‘S too much, ‘Toru…”

“You can take it.” he encourages pressing his palm against the bulge of your stomach, making some of your combined cum gush out around his dick. Taking your hair and moving it aside to kiss your nape, “You’re already taking me so well… J-Just a lil’ more, darling.” That’s when he started faltering, his breathe getting shaky and thrusts getting sloppier and faster.

“Oh g-god… don’t clench around me li-like that..” Satoru whines against your neck.

“‘M close, S’toru…” you said as you tread your fingers through his hair.

“Me too…” he reaches down and pinches your clit, making you yelp and pull on his hair, drawing a deep moan from Satoru. Picking up his pace, his hips slapping against your ass. Going even faster, slamming his tip against your cervix, dragging his veins along your goey, melty walls.

He leaks more pre against the end of your pussy before he fully unloads into you. Filled you to the brim for nth time with his sticky, webby, warmth. Doing shallow lil’ thrust back n’ forth drawing both of your highs out.

After finishing stuffing you full he just crashes on top of you. “Mm, fuck… Love you, sweets…” He keeps you plugged up with his softening cock peppering the side of your face with kisses. “Waited so long to do this…”

“Mhmm..” you try to move, feelling Satoru’s cum sloshin’ around in you made you stop.

.

.

.

After a couple of months dating Yuji caught you making out during lunch, to which you had to explain that you had been dating Satoru to your students and Satoru had to explain his profound love for you to his students. In reality he was just happy now that you could hold hands in public. Or steal your food without being sneaky about it. Or not having to pretend he doesn’t love you with every ounce of his heart.

Then when a year passed and a mysterious metal band appeared on Satoru’s finger he just had to rant about how he was now engaged to the most beautiful, amazing, smart, sexy woman in the entire universe in a dreamy tone. Who then proceeded to invite his students to his up coming wedding.

When on that one day with his hair somewhat tamed and his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you walk down the aisle, with that bouquet of orchids. The same pale pink ones that fill every vase at the venue. And Satoru swore he wasn’t going to cry during vows but can feel his eyes getting glassy from just seeing you pull out your flashcard.

As Satoru leans in he can’t help but be excited for what the rest of his life will be like with you.

CASE NO.1 : CLOSED ~ LOVE RETURNED! ♡♡♡

A/N. I hope you enjoyed lovelys its up to you if you guys have kids but toru wants at least seven. sukuna is brewing next possibly...

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plagerism is not allowed...... @dorkinit4ever

[dorkinit4ever]

nerdjo! MDNI! (suggestive)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🦋🦋~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

nerdjo! who cried when he fell off the swing and scraped his knee at six, then stopped when you offered him a lollipop and a band aid.

nerdjo! who had been best friends with you since. linking pinkies when you went on adventures in your backyard until 3rd grade. then stopped when he declared that girls “had cooties!” even though he still went over to your house the same day and sharing many sleepovers since.

nerdjo! who hit his head roaming your house after he grew 5 inches over summer. but still went with you to your first dance in 7th grade… as friends.

nerdjo! who murmured about how pretty you looked under his breath every five minutes, to the point of almost saying it a hundred times that night. even if you hated the dress your mom picked out for you, even when you dismissed his compliments each time.

nerdjo! who froze when the stereotypical cheesy, romantic slow dance music played and you jokingly asked him to dance.

"who plays this kind of music at dances nowadays, right? but sure. i'll dance with you... i guess." that was his attempt at nonchalance crumbling unbeknownst to him the bright red air brushing the tips of his ears exposing him.

still. he took your hand and ever so hesitantly one of his on your waist. now satoru didn't know how to dance, or at least to this kind of music. so you just swayed together, making eye contact sometimes just to instantly look away, until the song ended.

nerdjo! who walked you back home after the dance ended in a somewhat awkward silence with the sole exception of the crickets of course.

only to stare at his ceiling for half the night, overthinking every second of the dance with his blankets half kicked off and his arm draped across his stomach.

as he drifts off into his slumbers he realizes that he likes you... more than friends.

nerdjo! who has never looked at you the same since.

nerdjo! who started collecting the little things you give him like they're precious. because in his academics rattled brain... they are. where he hoards them in an intricate box that you too had gifted him.

nerdjo! who had to sit through you talking about some new guy every month or so. even if it made him extremely jealous he was still your best friend after all.

so he still stayed when those same boys rejected you.

nerdjo! who started to notice a trend in your little crushes and decided to get a gym membership just so he'd appeal to you.

nerdjo! who used his wits for what he considered good and helped you get into your dream college because he already got accepted. in reality he could've went anywhere but he'd still follow you wherever your passion took you.

nerdjo! who memorized the path to your dorm because of course he got the closest one to you. and of course he came over way too often. though his company was never unwanted. welcomed, always.

nerdjo! who always got you your period cravings, as if he knew your cycle perfectly. little did you know that he had tracked every time you complained and now had a perfect tracker after all this time.

nerdjo! who tutors you for free whenever you need help and still gets you dinner later.

"for the hard work." he'd say handing you a steaming cup of noodles. trying to make sure you ate when he knew you well enough to know you forget sometimes.

nerdjo! who asks you to be his valentine. 'as a joke' was his back up plan if reacted in a bad way. but out of all the things he knew, he never noticed how you, yourself, had been looking at him differently.

nerdjo! who was shocked stupid when you said yes.

nerdjo! who took you on your dream first date, that you had ranted so many times about to him before. going as far to buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

one of the many, many, many things he remembered about you.

nerdjo! who got a sweet kiss on his cheek after he walked you home from that amazing date.

nerdjo! who couldn't stop smiling on the way back to his dorm.

nerdjo! who had many dates with you after that and many more sleepovers in your bed.

nerdjo! who always kisses your cheek or temple when he walks past in your dorm. always buys you little things that remind him of you and still keeping the things you give him as his own sacred treasures.

nerdjo! who pussydrunkly said "marry me.." after your first time together. which he had saved himself for, for years.

nerdjo! who stood at the altar with you years later from that moment saying his vows.

nerdjo! who now lives his perfect, chaotic life with you and your six kids. where he gets to wake up next to you every morning and gets to fuck you every night and gets to love every moment of life in between with his family. ♡

.

.

.

plagerism is not allowed....

[dorkinit4ever]

Quick question do y’all…

Read on phone or computer??

Phone

Computer

Voting ended onMar 15

[tonycries]

Knight of Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k

A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.

“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”

And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.

Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”

“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows. 

“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.” 

The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”

After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.

The first being that he’s loved you ever since. 

Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.

He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”

Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.

Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”

Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered. 

“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that? 

“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”

Oh.

Oh. 

And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.

Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone. 

Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to. 

Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway? 

Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!

“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”

“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly. 

Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”

At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”

“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants. 

And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird. 

The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.” 

And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-

You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.

Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is. 

Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.

Gojo visited you the next day, too. 

And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him. 

Every day.

When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.

And it showed - oh, how it showed. 

It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest. 

He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course. 

Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty. 

“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”

“Snitch”

“Harlot.”

“Knave.”

“Hobgoblin.”

“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”

Well, was. 

It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement. 

“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”

“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”

Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title. 

“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”

“Satoru- wait.”

He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.

Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice. 

But no, that was not his place. 

His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.

“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.

“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.

Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”

“Satoru.”

And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why. 

Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals? 

No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.

You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents. 

And that left you with…him.

Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that. 

“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”

He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”

“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”

“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”

“Well, I think they’re really nice.” You’re huffing, brows marrying together. 

He scoffs, “Nice- or useful?”

“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now. 

“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”

A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.

“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”

“There you are, your highnesses!” 

Satoru. 

You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”

Thud!

Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.

The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot. 

The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so. 

You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”

But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.

No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”

“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.

Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises. 

Him? 

“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”

In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.

But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”

“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”

He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”

“I should send you to the gallows for this.”

Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”

And for the first time in so long, it feels normal. 

The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants. 

“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.” 

“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”

“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.

And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.

“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”

The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”

Gojo. Gojo. 

And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet. 

So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him. 

Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”

Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess. 

You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.  

All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you. 

“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.  

“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”

For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat. 

And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared. 

Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons. 

.

.

.

Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow. 

And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.

The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there. 

It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.

Sneaky princess. 

After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself. 

But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this. 

Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well. 

And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence. 

It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is. 

After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night. 

Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives. 

Fuck, had it really been days since already?

It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-

He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal. 

And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him. 

With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies. 

“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up. 

Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”

Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”

“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”

“Ahem.”

There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin. 

Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip. 

Schwing–!

“Toru- no.” 

Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.

Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked. 

But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings. 

The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.

“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”

Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.

Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.

But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him. 

It takes a beat. One. Two. 

He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter. 

“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”

“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”

The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal. 

“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”

Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”

“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”

“Let me.”

Your brows raise, “What?”

“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat. 

Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure. 

He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers. 

Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions. 

He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.

The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”

“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”

“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”

What? 

“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before. 

Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might. 

But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation. 

“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”

And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”

Stood stock still.

Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him. 

His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.” 

And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-

“Please.” 

Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”

“The same hand.”

“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze. 

Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”

The other man breathes, “Repent…”

“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”

CRUNCH!

Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief. 

He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm. 

Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince. 

Repentance. 

“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name. 

So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-

Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”

.

.

.

In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out. 

None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.  

It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.

“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”

“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”

“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”

Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse. 

But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting. 

And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo. 

Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago. 

It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball. 

You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there. 

Manners. Posture. Eye contact. 

It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?

“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”

Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?

Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are. 

“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”

There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it. 

“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.

Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals. 

The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?

“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”

There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed. 

All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”

You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor. 

If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for. 

“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features. 

And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”

“As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”

“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”

“As if you deserve any bett-”

Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.” 

Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.

“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.” 

Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out- 

“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”

You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat. 

Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.

“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room. 

The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”

Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”

And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this. 

“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”

Oh.

“Oh.” 

Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”

So you do.

You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled. 

Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser. 

Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster. 

If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster. 

Nothing else mattered. 

Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night. 

Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.

“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee. 

It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.

“Satoru-!”

It wasn’t.

Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe. 

Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”

He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”

Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow. 

“May I have this dance, my princess?”

You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”

But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune. 

And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.

“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear. 

You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?” 

“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”

“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”

And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.

You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”

“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”

“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”

He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.

You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”

You breathe out, “Satoru…”

“-and maybe in another life-”

“Maybe in this one.”

Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”

You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer. 

Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety. 

His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw. 

“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”

You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not. 

Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.

Even if it was to purr out—

“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”

“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”

He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”

“Please-”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”

He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all. 

Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”

“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”

Panting, “K-kiss?”

“Mhm.” 

Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-

A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.

The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?

“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”

But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.

“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”

Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.

“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer. 

“Impatient.”

As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient. 

As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-

“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.

Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear. 

Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!

A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.

Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.

You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”

And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-

“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”

You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb. 

Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-

“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”

“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-

And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.

Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.

“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”

Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was. 

Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!

You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”

“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.

“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”

Fuck.

You were fucked. 

And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-

“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”

But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.

“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle. 

Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-

“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”

And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now. 

Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”

Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”

And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-

“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-” 

It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot. 

“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe. 

Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”  

You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”

“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”

The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-

Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.

High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub. 

 “M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”

And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch. 

“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”

More ravenous. 

Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants. 

He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second. 

But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.

And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.

Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists. 

Fucked out.

“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”

Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.

Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”

And use him you were. 

Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”

Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly. 

All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!

All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.” 

That’s what finally gets his attention. 

You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.

Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.

Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge. 

Staggering. 

One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine. 

“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-” 

And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets. 

It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-

“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”

Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”

Getting the princess to say please?

He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu- 

Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.

He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.

“S-Satoru did you just-”

“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”

N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-

“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”

You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”

He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips. 

Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-

“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”

He sounded hypnotized. 

“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.

“No.”

And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-

You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?

You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs. 

So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl. 

Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.

“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”

And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.

Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming. 

“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”

“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering. 

But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.

Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-

A mating press. 

Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.

“So mine.”

And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb. 

Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”

Oh.

You might have just broken him with that. 

Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.

Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.

“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”

Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”

“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”

More. 

And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.

Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”

He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.

Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.

“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”

But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”

“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”

Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.

Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name. 

A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering. 

And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”

His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”

You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo. 

All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well. 

Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”

“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”

“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”

“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”

And he does.

“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together. 

You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab. 

So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.

But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette. 

Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again. 

“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you. 

You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”

Oh, you liked the thought of that.

And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.

But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never. 

He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.

Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.

This was it. 

“My princess…run away with me?”

.

.

.

“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”

“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”

“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”

“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”

“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”

Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other. 

Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him! 

And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.

Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.

And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.

Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love. 

It was oh-so-positively sweet.

The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.

Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.

How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed. 

A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[dorkinit4ever]

FRATJO or NERDJO?? there is a correct answer here

choose wisely…

fratjo

nerdjo

Voting ended onMar 13

[yuemiu-deactivated20260315]

gojo just couldn’t stop running his mouth once he’s buried deep in you !

gojo was always loud when he got inside you, like the second his cock sank balls deep into your creamy little cunt his brain short circuited and every filter he ever had just vanished.. you could be riding him slow and sweet or bent over the kitchen counter and he’d still start yapping nonstop, his voice carrying louder than your own moans, filling the whole room with filthy praise and his needy little groans.

tonight was no different.

he had you folded in half on the bed, knees shoved up beside your ears, pretty ankles hooked over his shoulders while he pinned you down with that long beefy body.

the mattress dipped deep under every brutal snap of his hips, springs creaking loud as he pounded you into it like he was trying to carve the shape of him into your insides forever. his cock was so thick, stretching your pussy wide open, slick walls clinging to every ridge and vein as he dragged out slow just to slam back in harder. your creamy mess was everywhere already, white froth coating his shaft and balls, dripping down your crack an soaking the sheets in sticky puddles with every thrust.

“fuuuck— baby look at her,” he panted right against your mouth, blue eyes wild and glassy, never stopping the relentless rhythm of his thrusts. “taking me so fucking good… pussy’s sucking me in like she’s starving— haahhh—greedy little thing, yeah? creaming all over my cock like that… shit, you hear how wet you are?” his voice cracked into a loud groan when you clenched around him on purpose, walls fluttering tight and milking him hard. the wet squelching of your pussy was obscene, loud enough to drown out your whimpers, every pull out making more slick bubble up and drip down his dick in thick strings.

“toru— shut up...” you whined, voice all shaky and high, hands pushing weakly at his chest like that would ever work. your cheeks were burning, embarrassment mixing with how good he was fucking you, but he just laughed breathy and mean, hips never slowing.

“can’t, baby.. fuck— can’t shut up when your pussy’s this perfect,” he groaned louder, tilting his hips just right so the fat head of his cock bullied your g-spot over and over. “feels too good... mmh yeahhh just like that… listen to her talk back to me… y’hear that, hm? goddamn baby she’s drooling for it.”

he kept talking to you, voice echoing off the walls, every word punctuated by a deep punishing thrust that made your tits bounce and your toes curl in the air.

your legs shook where they were pinned, thighs trembling from being folded so tight, sloppy pussy stretched to the limit around his fat girth. he kept grinding deep on every in stroke, pubic bone smashing against your clit till sparks shot up your spine, making you sob out broken little sounds. “ahhnn— toruuu...! s’deep...! mmnghh...” u tried again, but it came out all slurred n pathetic, another gush of slick coating him when he angled meaner.

“yeah? louder baby, let em hear,” he growled, voice dropping low n rough for half a second before he was right back to yapping. “let the whole fucking building know how good i’m fucking my girl, how she’s creaming and crying on my dick— fuck, look at that mess, baby… you see how she’s gripping me? you making a mess on my cock— shit i’m gonna cum just looking at it.” he pulled out halfway just to watch the creamy froth stretch between you, then slammed back in so hard the headboard banged against the wall.

you were gone, brain fuzzy and body boneless, only able to babble and moan while he railed u senseless. “hnn toruu—please— ahhnn... shiiit— s’too much—!” every word dissolved into high pitched wails, pussy spasming wild around him as he kept talking you through it, loud and shameless.

“that’s it... cum for me baby, cream on it again— fuck yes— milk me— haahh— good girl, so fucking good... gonna fill you up, yeah? gonna stuff this pretty cunt full—” his thrusts turned sloppy and frantic, heavy balls slapping wet against your ass, cock throbbing thick inside you as he chased his high. when he came it was with a broken shout, hips grinding deep while he pumped rope after thick rope into you, so much it leaked out around his base even as he kept shallow fucking you through the aftershocks.

he collapsed half on top of you after, still buried to the hilt, panting against your neck while his cock twitched inside your well-fucked pussy. you were both a sticky sweaty mess, sheets soaked, air heavy with the smell of sex and his stupid expensive cologne.

“you still with me, baby?” he murmured eventually, voice all soft and smug now, pressing a lazy kiss under your jaw.

you just hummed, too fucked-out to say anything, legs still trembling around him. “mhm..”

he stayed there panting, still talking nonstop even while softening inside you. “holy shit.. look at the mess we made baby… your pussy’s still twitching heh so fucking cute… gonna stay right here and keep her warm… yeah?”

🏷️ : @oyasumiaikko @vesserz @zeniiis

[dorkinit4ever]

Man we freaks of a feather should stick together…

also I’d LOVE some tips on writing smut lmao 😼

i want y’all like dis when u read my fics

[tonycries]

Cupid - G.S.

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.

@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (read more…)

@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?

.

.

.

@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.)

And there was only one left wondering…

[email protected]: (RE: All of…this)

Hello,

What the fuck.

Regards.

A/N. Disclaimer not to be like him irl but like for him?? Anything.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[dorkinit4ever]

IN LOVEEEEEEEE

[gojosbigboobies]

Little Starfish. │ merjo / merman gojo x reader │ wc: 7k │ AO3 LINK

tags: no use of y/n, petname: little starfish, monster fucking, size difference, inhuman anatomy, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering & sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, toru is annoying af in this as usual in my works , he's actually a huge softie for you, very nsfw

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST!

The sun, the sea, the steady sound of the waves breaking against the shore.

They had been your constant companions. The ocean breeze tousled your hair and the sunlight warmed your cheek.

There was a quiet peace to your life. You spent your days painting in the rockpools near your cliffside cottage. Two years ago, you had stepped away from the tight grip of society after a distant family member passed and left you her home along with what remained of her fortune.

You chose to let your days drift by with brush in hand. The ocean and its creatures became your company. Your canvases filled with schools of fish, their scales catching the light, with jellyfish trailing long bright tendrils, with seagulls stretching their wings over open water. It was simple work. Honest work.

That day had felt no different.

You sat on the gnarled wood of your favorite stool, your weathered easel planted firmly in the sand before you. The canvas was already washed in blues and greens as you shaped an underwater scene. Light filtered through painted waves. A figure began to form beneath your brush.

At first it looked like a sea creature, something scaled and sleek. But slowly it changed. The shape grew broader at the shoulders, more like a man than a fish. White curls framed his head. Bright blue eyes took shape beneath your careful strokes. You had not realized what you were painting. It felt as though you had slipped into a quiet trance, your brush moving on instinct. The creature sharpened into focus until a smug smile curved across soft pink lips.

A splash broke the stillness.

Your hand stilled mid stroke. Your gaze shifted toward the water.

You saw him.

He was half in and half out of the sea, leaning against the tide pools. His chin rested on his palm as he watched you, grinning wide and unapologetically, sharp fanged teeth flashing in the golden light.

Awe must have been on your face as you took in the sight of him. Iridescent scales ran along his shoulders and chest, catching in the sun in pale flashes. He was massive, at least from your human perspective. His upper third, what would be his torso, was much like a person’s for the most part - apart from the scaled patches along his body and occasional fins - but even that human part was approaching twice as large as a normal person’s. Including his tail with its white and blue scales that shimmered beneath the surface, he was nearing 17 feet in length.

Humans and merfolk had never been at peace. The village had always whispered stories. They spoke of brutality, of flesh torn from bone, of hearts taken for sport. They spoke as though it were fact.

But merfolk were not spared from cruelty either. Children stolen from quiet coves. Scales treated as trophies. Creatures hunted and displayed by those with money and power.

You had long believed that if there was violence, it likely went both ways. People rarely showed kindness to what they did not understand.

You knew that well enough.

You stared at him, your mouth hanging open before you forced it shut.

“Now who said you could paint my good side without asking for permission?”

You had never expected to have any kind of conversation with a merman, let alone one so pretty - one you had painted without even realising it.

“I-I’m sorry, did I offend you?”

He laughed then, a loud bark of sweet, bright laughter that carried easily over the water. The sound warmed your cheeks and made embarrassment prickle along the back of your neck.

“I can’t blame you for painting me, I am the prettiest after all.” He drawled, leaning forward to study your canvas with sharp, critical eyes. His lips curled into the same smug grin you had painted earlier without meaning to.

“You are pretty, but I guess everyone tells you that,” you responded, rolling your eyes as you mixed another shade of cerulean on your palette, keeping your gaze fixed on your work instead of him.

“I’m Satoru, what’s your name, little starfish?” Satoru asked, tilting his head to the side. Water dripped steadily from his snowy hair, sliding down along his neck and shoulders.

You told him your name. He repeated it quietly a few times, testing the sound of it, before flashing that wide, toothy grin again. “I think little starfish suits you better, don’t you think?”

You raised an eyebrow at him and let out a small laugh. “I just told you my name and you insist on calling me little starfish?”

“Yup! I am the best at picking out nicknames, and you are now little starfish.” Satoru nodded firmly, his tail flicking in amusement and breaking through the gentle lap of the waves.

It was strange that you were not afraid of him. If it had been any other merfolk, you thought you might have trembled. Yet as you sat there with him watching you, you felt no fear. Maybe it was because the moment he opened his mouth you realized he was deeply egotistical, and more than anything he seemed curious about you.

“You hold your brush wrong y’know. I’ve been watchin’ you for some time and you hold it weirdly.” He pointed a clawed finger toward the brush resting between your fingers, making you frown.

“No I do not, you’re just being rude,” you shot back, glancing at your canvas as you added more color to his eyes, deepening the blue and carefully painting in that mischievous glint he carried so easily.

After that evening, Satoru became a steady presence in your life. He visited often, sometimes daily. Once you mentioned offhand that you liked shellfish but found it too expensive, he began arriving with offerings. He left crabs, lobsters, and fish near your favorite rock pool on mornings when he could not stay.

Explaining money to him turned into an entire afternoon.

He called humans foolish for it. He told you most merfolk were self-sufficient. Those who could not provide for themselves were cared for by the stronger members of the pod. To them, nothing was more important than family.

Satoru spoke often about his own family.

He told you about a serious boy named Megumi, and Megumi’s sister, Tsumiki, who worried constantly. He told you about Yuji, a pink haired boy who followed Megumi everywhere he went. His voice softened when he spoke of them, even if he tried to hide it behind teasing remarks.

You could picture it easily. The tired look on Megumi’s face as Yuji chattered excitedly about some fish he had spotted. And the way Satoru must watch over them all as if they were his own children.

You began to think about the food he brought you. About how he said the strong cared for the weak. You told yourself that was all it was. That you were simply someone he had decided to look after - family.

But what you felt for him went far beyond friendship.

It grew slowly. Your heart skipped whenever he smiled at you. You found yourself waiting for the sound of a splash against the rocks. You loved the way he sat beside you while you painted, close enough that he spent the whole time peering over your shoulder. You baked cakes and sweets for him, pretending it was nothing special, pretending you did not look forward to the way he’d excitedly bounce whenever you’d hand over the most delicious looking sweets.

Whenever he touched you, even lightly, your body reacted before your mind could catch up. His hands were cool and damp, the texture of his skin different from anything you had known. Yet it never felt wrong. It felt gentle. Careful. As though he was always aware of how fragile you were compared to him - that you were a fragile thing he did not want to break.

You began to crave those small touches.

The space between you grew smaller over the weeks. Gifts became more frequent. Crabs and lobsters appeared almost daily beside your favorite rock pool even on days he could not show up. Shells and pearls followed, always in your favorite colours, pushed into the palm of your hand with a lazy grin.

Each offering was a kindness you savoured.

You were not painting alone anymore - months had passed before you had even realised it, and Satoru had so easily settled himself into your life as if he had always belonged there.

Your days no longer were lonely, filled with the sunny sea as your only companion. You found yourself waiting for him. Every morning you set up your canvas and easel beside the rockpool he told you was his favorite. The flat stones there held the warmth of the sun long into the afternoon, and he loved to stretch across them to bask in the sun or to laze in the rockpool beside you.

It became routine, breaking apart the mundanity you had grown used to.

He would announce himself the same way each time - a loud call of your name, followed by a dramatic splash as he pulled himself onto the rocks or into one of the pools. His beautiful indigo tail would take up most of the space, water sloshing over the edges as he settled in without a single care in the world, as if he belonged there - belonged in your world.

That day was no different.

You sat at the edge of the sun warmed pool, your sketchbook balanced on your knees. Your feet dipped into the water beside him, brushing occasionally against cool and smooth scales. Pencil in hand, you sketched carefully. You captured the soft curve of his snowy lashes, the straight line of his nose, the pretty pink curve of his lips as they rested in a lazy half smile.

Satoru, meanwhile, had stolen one of your brushes - as he often did, dragging the worn bristles across his palm with idle interest. The end of his tail swished lazily through the water, though the small, quick flicks betrayed his amusement despite the bored look he always tried to wear.

You had learned to read him easily, it took you maybe two weeks to learn his habits.

He liked to act aloof on some days and on others he would decide that annoying you was his sole goal in life. He enjoyed also pretending he was unimpressed, that nothing you did was cool, that your art did not impress him. But his eyes always gave him away. They sparkled when you teased him. His tail swayed when he was pleased, like it did now. You knew he was content. The warmth in your chest told you the feeling was mutual.

“What’s it like down there? It’s dark right?” you eventually asked, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you, glancing up from your sketchbook, tilting your head to one side as you gazed at him.

“Yeah it gets pretty dark, but we have bio-luminescent lamps and scales on our bodies that make it easier to see,” Satoru explained casually. “We can also see in the dark, I have the best eyes around!”

His free hand came to rest on your calf. His fingers slid lightly over your skin, cool and damp, tracing slow lines studying you the way you studied him.

“Why do humans wear clothes? They seem inconvenient. I don’t like not being able to see every part of someone, It’s weird,” Satoru pouted, claws brushing carefully along your flesh.

“It’s a decency thing,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Protection too. Our skin is delicate and can easily get burnt or torn. It keeps us warm when we’re cold. You’re cold blooded, Toru, so you don’t really get cold in the way that I do.”

Satoru huffed. “Humans are lame.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, tapping the top of his head lightly with your pencil.

“Excuse you sir, I thought you liked me,” you teased, grinning.

“I do like you, but not the other humans, they're weird. Legs creep me out,” he grumbled.

His lazy exploration had drifted higher now, fingertips brushing along your thigh. His touch was absentminded, lacking any real thought.

“My legs are scary?” you asked with a quiet laugh.

“No. Other humans' legs are though. Yours are soft and nice.”

Your smile softened at that. The pencil in your hand paused against the page as you looked at him, really looked at him, at the sincerity that slipped through his teasing tone.

You dipped your toes deeper into the water, brushing them gently against his tail this time on purpose.

“Well, lucky for you,” you murmured, “these are the only legs you have to worry about.”

“Okay I have another question, don’t tell me off for it,” Satoru said, tapping your knee with the paintbrush, his expression perhaps the most devious you had ever seen.

“Shoot, what do you wanna know?”

He paused, that sharp and mischievous look only grew, an expression you knew well when he was planning to tease you, it was a dangerous look, the way his eyes glimmered with interest.

“Why does your pulse get faster whenever I get closer? Is human skin more sensitive than scales?” Satoru asked smoothly, his tone teasing in a way that made your stomach do tiny backflips.

You blinked at him a few times, heat quickly rose in your face as you huffed. “My pulse does not get faster! And I wouldn’t know, I don’t have scales,”you grumbled, puffing your cheeks out in a childish show of annoyance while avoiding his gaze.

“You’re a bad liar, star,” He replied easily, his voice thick with amusement.

You hesitated briefly then you muttered, “I imagine it’s not that different. Certain parts of my body are more sensitive than others.”

You lightly kicked his tail as if to distract him from the admission.

Satoru grinned wider. He rolled in the shallow pool so he was facing you fully now, his chin propped up in his hand, water shifting around his broad shoulders.

The space between you grew smaller.

"So…I've seen the looks some sailors give each other on ships. Like they want it bad. How does mating work for you guys?" he asked, tilting his head, baby blues watching you carefully.

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat.

“That’s a very direct question,” you said slowly, staring down at your sketchbook as if it might save you. Your pulse betrayed you again, beating hard against your ribs.

“Well?” he pressed, tail flicking once behind him.

How were you supposed to explain the concept of human sex to a merman? A mermaid you had a giant crush on at that.

That was the first thought that ran through your mind as you dragged a hand down your face, equal parts flustered and tired at the absurdity of it all. You let out a long sigh and looked at Satoru again, narrowing your eyes slightly. You were almost certain he already understood and was choosing to make you say it out loud just to watch you squirm.

He truly was a pain in your ass.

You sighed again and shook your head. “We form bonds first, but not all the time. Most of the time though, there’s emotional attachment. Courting each other, I guess.” You rolled your shoulders, feeling the weight of his bright blue gaze on your burning cheeks. “Spending time together. Exchanging gifts. Learning about each other - what the other likes, what preferences they have.”

Satoru’s grin spread wide and sharp. “Like we have been?”

You spluttered, glaring at him as heat climbed higher along your neck. You chose not to answer that. That was a conversation for another time - you did not want to mentally unpack that yet.

“So how does actual mating work though? You didn’t answer my question.”

You inhaled slowly, bracing yourself.

“Well… to start, men and women have different biology. Though I think that’s also the same with merfolk,” you began, refusing to meet his eyes. “The man has a penis. It’s usually like…” You gestured awkwardly with your hands to indicate size, and he snickered under his breath. “About that big. And the woman has an opening that it goes inside of and fter that… when he reaches climax, fertilization can happen if the timing is right.”

You cleared your throat, wishing the rock beneath you would swallow you whole.

“Ah, I see, I see. Merfolk are the same,” Satoru murmured.

His hand, which had been resting on your thigh, moved more deliberately now. His claws traced lightly along the inside of your thigh, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you sharply aware of every nerve beneath your skin. His grin widened, but his eyes had darkened with something more focused.

“Can we do that then? I want you to be my mate.”

The bluntness of it stole the air from your lungs.

You stared at him, stunned, your pulse hammering in your ears. “You can’t seriously be asking me that,” you snapped, though your voice wavered. “That’s not how it works.”

He tilted his head, genuinely curious despite the smirk tugging at his lips. “Why not? I like you a lot, I have been courting you - and you like me too thats why your pulse does that cute thing that it does - it’s doing it right now”

“Because,” you said, forcing yourself to steady your breathing, “being someone’s mate isn’t just about wanting them. It’s about trust. About knowing each other fully. About choosing each other.”

Your hand moved without thinking, resting lightly against his shoulder and then his neck. Cool skin met warm your palm.

“It’s serious, Toru,” you continued more softly. “It’s not just physical. It means something.”

For once, he did not interrupt. His tail stilled in the water. His gaze searched your face, his usual aloof and teasing demeanor replaced by something serious - the most serious you had ever seen him be.

“You don’t get to claim me just because you’re curious,” you added, trying to regain some composure. “Won’t just accept just because my heart speeds up when you get too close.”

His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh, possessive almost. “It is not curiosity, my star - I want you like the moon wants the tides. Please, let me have you.” He looked at you then, as if you were the sole star in his sky. “I choose you, I have been choosing you - choose me too.”

You looked at him, taking in the raw tenderness in his eyes, the need that shone there. There was no teasing, no usual mischief, no hint of deceit - just pure want and affection, all directed at you.

Your mind raced. He was a merman, not of your world, belonging to the oceans and not the land. His people hated humans. Was he putting himself in danger for you? For his family even? And what about you - were you now a target? Would other merfolk come after you for being the lover of one as powerful as he was?

You took a deep breath, thinking back over the life you had lived. The things you had let slip through your fingers out of fear, the people who had come and gone like a revolving door, the chances you had never taken to protect yourself from being hurt.

But now, looking at him, you realized some things were worth the risk - he was worth any risk you could ever take.

You wanted him, and now you knew clearly that he wanted you too.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice steady, resolute despite the fluttering in your chest.

Satoru’s grin widened, full of unadulterated joy. He pulled himself up, his massive form easily able to stretch himself up so he was at height with you in a movement that felt too quick and easy. “Good,” he murmured, the vibration in his voice low and smooth, almost a purr. He leaned in, pressing his lips gently against yours, and the world around you two vanished until it was just you, him, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

“My little star,” Satoru whispered against your lips.

The gentleness of his lips did not last very long.

Satoru was a creature of the ocean, accustomed to cruel and darkest depths and taking what he wanted - a hunter. His mouth opened over yours, and while he was patient, it was still hard and demanding, hungry in a way that made your head spin and your heart race.

You felt the sleek, dangerous slide of his tongue, the scrape of the sharp fangs you had been shown glimpses of now grazing against your bottom lip, a perfect reminder of exactly who, exactly what you were kissing. The thrill sent a heat straight to your core.

His hands began to wander quickly. You could feel the massive, slightly webbed grip of them on your hips. He lifted you effortlessly, sliding you off the dry edge of the stone and into the tide pool with him.

Rather, on top of him. While water soaked instantly through some of your clothes, the sudden chill making you gasp against his mouth, Satoru remained a solid, immovable floor beneath you, letting your knees straddle around his iridescent scales of what would be around the equivalent of his abdomen, while his back pressed against the stone you’d been sitting on just seconds ago. From here, you could feel every groove of his body under you: pure muscle just beneath the surface, cold to the touch, and tough in some spots from the defensive scales, but softer where it mattered.

“Well, let’s learn together, shall we?” That sharp grin returned to the merman as he broke the kiss, letting a finger curl underneath the hem of your shirt. His claw was near to piercing it, intent on tearing your clothing to ribbons if it meant getting to you a second sooner.

“I’ll give you one chance, star,” The hand not threatening the safety of your clothes patted your cheek, a massive sized palm against your head, “Lose the clothes or I’ll do it for you.”

With a quick and desperate nod, your trembling fingers flew to the hem of your worn cotton t-shirt, it was too hot to wear it anyway the heat inside of your core was growing to be too much already, humid air washed over your bare breasts, your nipples to tighten into hard, aching pebbles.

Satoru’s gaze was fixated instantly, the ethereal beauty of his cerulean eyes darkening as they dilated so nearly his whole gaze was a near-black, a bottomless well of raw, unrestrained want. His webbed fingers met the soft and delicate skin of your best, gentle and tentative.

The first sensation you felt was the shock of his cold hands, the coolness delicious against your heated skin - making you gasp, your back involuntarily arching into his touch. Your eyelids fluttered close, and then opened again, your gaze flickering down to see Satoru’s face, his expression a mask of desire and awe.

His hands were so different from a humans, delicate webbing between his fingers, the same shimmering blue colour of his tail - his claws grazing the thin, sensitive flesh of your breasts, his thumbs tracing circles over the hardened nubs of your nipples, each pass sending a jolt of pure electricity skittering down your spine, coiling deep in your belly.

“So soft,” he had murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, a sharp pleasure that made your lips part in a soft and sweet moan. He had looked up then, his own lips curling into a lazy, predatory smile as he watched the desperate need flush across your face

“My turn,” you had slurred, the words thick and clumsy on your tongue, your own hands rising to explore the expanse of his torso. His skin was cool and impossibly smooth, his hand had shot out, catching your wrist with a gentle but strong grip, curling around it to guide it down, down, down to a small patch of scales where the sleek skin of his torso gave way to the long and muscular length of his tail.

The scales there were different - larger and firmer, a deep, iridescent indigo. Between two, there was an overlap, a place where muscles may have woven together normally between the bumps of an extended abdomen, instead forming a well-hidden slit of wet and hot muscle. The scales covering that slit resisted for only a moment, then managed to part, seeming to melt away as your finger tips explored the texture of the spot - thicker than water, viscous.

Then you felt the hard shape beginning to push through. You were absorbed enough that you couldn’t hear Gojo’s reactions, the way his breath began to falter for a second as you slid a hand in, knuckle-deep into the slit to chase that shape. The shape was slick, and as you reached it and let your fingers finally wrap around it, it finally breached out properly - heavy, thick, and already throbbing with need.

It was large.

Larger than anything you had ever conceived of taking, a terrifying nine inches at least, a notion that left you breathless. It was not human either: it was ridged, its color a breathtaking swirl of deep indigo and shimmering silver that perfectly matched the beautiful shades of his tail, all leading up to a bulbous, flared head that seemed to weep with anticipation.

Unlike the rest of his body which was covered in thick skin and muscle, and thus cold from the ocean, it was hot and warm, begging for any kind of attention, throbbing for you - desperate for the attention you were all too willing to give.

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” you whispered, your gaze darting between his intense, knowing eyes, his smirk insufferably smug, and the magnificent length of his cock resting against your stomach. You shifted your hips, feeling its impossible weight, the broad head pressing firmly against your abdomen, reaching, it seemed, all the way up to just below your belly button.

Satoru only laughed in the annoying, satisfied laugh he had, “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t get much bigger then.”

The surprise and what was between a horrible dread and thrill in the pit of your stomach must have read on your face, as he laughed louder this time, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his hands lazily trailed a path from your breasts to your hips, toying with the denim of your shorts. It was an obvious, silent request for them to be removed, probably with the same threat as before, so you rid yourself of your clothing - panties included , the discarded item joining your shirt - a thing to worry about later.

“Come here, I have seen humans do this before, and I’ve wanted to try it ever since,” Satoru murmured softly, placing his hands on your upper thighs, coaxing you closer. He shifted down, moving himself deeper in the pool while staying mostly level for you until his face was inches away from your pussy, his expression full of lazy need. “You smell delicious.” He drawled, drumming his fingers against the fat of your thighs until his face was buried between your thighs, his hot tongue sliding between your folds.

The first touch of his tongue was a shock. It was broader and longer than a human's, and the texture was different - slightly slicker. He licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, from your entrance to your clit, and the sensation was so intense it made your whole body tremble. You gasped, your hands flew out to brace yourself against the top of his head, grasping onto damp silky locks.

He didn't stop, his tongue mapping every fold and dip of your cunt. His fingers pressed firmly into the soft flesh of your ass and thighs, holding you in place. He savored the taste, the sound, the very feel of you against his mouth. A low, rumbling groan vibrated from his chest and directly into your core, making your toes curl. “You taste so good… gonna get addicted.”

This tongue finally isolated your clit. The wet muscle circled the sensitive nub once, twice, before flattening his tongue and pressing it firmly against you. The pressure was exquisite, a steady, pulsating rhythm that had you rocking your hips against his face. He alternated between broad, lapping strokes and quick, precise flicks of the tip of his tongue, each movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through you.

He had clearly found your weak spot, his chest rumbling with a content noise as he pulled back for a few moments, grinning up at you with his shark-like teeth. “This is where you’re weak, right?” He murmured, before diving back in to keep lapping at your sopping cunt.

You could feel the heat building low in your belly, a tight coil of tension that wound tighter and tighter with every pass of his tongue. Your breaths came in ragged pants, and soft, broken moans fell from your lips. You looked down, past your stomach, and saw his face, his eyes closed in utter concentration, his brow furrowed as he worked you with his mouth. The sight alone was almost enough to send you over the edge.

Satoru slid one of his webbed fingers down, teasing your entrance for a moment before pushing it inside you, being mindful of his claws. You cried out, the feeling of his long, cool digit curling inside you combined with the relentless attention of his mouth was almost too much. He began to move his finger in time with his tongue, stroking that perfect sensitive spot deep within you while he sucked your clit between his plump lips.

You had known that just the sensation of his tongue exploring you, how it teased your inside and soon began to abuse that weak spot of yours, the nub of sensitive nerves of your clit, would have been more than enough to earn an orgasm. Now though, with the sensation of his finger perfectly locating and dragging along your insides with the pressure of his lips and tongue on you?

You could barely give him enough warning to prepare.

“To…toru, god I…” Your breaths were shaky at best, your vision blurring to stars, your eyelids starting to flutter. Stumbling words barely managed to work out, “Guh…gonna…c-cumming.” The strain building up in you manifested in a squeak as your body tightened, trying to hold back the force that was so naturally beginning to rip through your body for just a minute, a few seconds longer to enjoy the absolute bliss of the sensations coursing through you.

Finally, you couldn’t hold back and the coil in your belly snapped. A loud moan flowed freely as your orgasm ripped through you, a sharp, cry tearing from your throat as your body convulsed. Your thighs clamped around Satoru’s head, your back arching as you ground yourself against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure that left you shaking and breathless.

The merman didn't pull away until the last tremor had subsided, his tongue giving you one last, gentle lick that made you shudder. You collapsed forward, boneless and spent, your arms barely catching yourself against the large rock that was your work space before your new lover pulled himself up and laid you against his shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath.

Your eyes weren’t quite focused and you could just barely make out his voice amid the rushing of blood and your pulse in your ears, “-asty, you know that? Must be all the sweet things you make.” It was a teasing tone…tasty? You realized in a slowly fading daze he was talking about how your cum must have taste. A hollow laugh left you as you simply smiled and enjoyed the sensation of your body against his, your hands dreamily wandering around the muscles of his large chest and shoulders.

That kind of response earned a sweet laugh from your partner as you were finally ready to continue. You took a few deep breaths, still trembling but more coherent than before, your body pliant and fighting against the bonelessness as you shifted down his torso. The cool, smooth skin of his chest felt good against your flushed breasts. Satoru's hands guided your hips, positioning you directly over the heavy, ridged length of his cock. You could feel the impossible heat of him radiating against your inner thighs

“Gonna fuck you now, kay? I got you nice and wet,” he said, pressing a tender kiss against your temple, “Lift yourself onto me.”

You nodded, bracing your hands on his shoulders, you lifted yourself slightly, reaching down with one hand to line him up. The broad, bulbous head of his cock nudged against your entrance, and you took a deep breath and began to lower yourself, slow and deliberate, making sure to not hurt yourself. The stretch was immediate and intense - a full, aching pressure as your body yielded to his inhuman size. The ridges along his shaft dragged against your sensitive walls, each one sending a jolt of sharp, pleasurable friction. You paused, your body adjusting to the sheer girth and length of him, a gasp catching in your throat.

You could see it as you looked down at your hands against Satoru’s pearlescent scales. Inside of your body, amidst the softer skin of your abdomen there was an obvious bulging, a ridge that had formed on the surface of the skin where your insides strained to accommodate him.

He was also right, you could feel that strain continuing for a moment, your eyes rolling back and a shaking breath leaving your lips as that bulge stretched a bit more as he seemed to grow at least another inch.

“Haaaah….oh fuck yes,” Satoru groaned, a low and gutteral sound before faint laugh left him, the merman bringing a gentle stroke of his thumb to trace the new groove along your stomach, “You’re so tight, feels so good.” Another laugh wound with pure adoration and lust left him, a few pointed teeth biting his lip as he continued to gently stroke your sides as if to soothe you, “That’s it, my star. My beautiful star.

You stayed still for a few moments longer, just feeling him throb deep inside you, the head of his cock pressing against a spot that made your vision blur. Then, you began to move.

You started with a slow, experimental roll of your hips, finding a rhythm that made the ridges catch in all the right places. The pleasure was overwhelming, a searing, liquid heat pooling in your belly. Lifting yourself up, almost to the point of him slipping out, before sinking back down, taking him hard and deep. Every downward stroke was a blissful ache, every upward drag a tease that left you wanting more. Loud pornographic moans freely escaping your lips, creating a harmonious symphony with his own groans.

You set a steady pace, your body moving on instinct, chasing the building pressure. Your breaths came in ragged pants, your muscles beginning to burn with the effort. The pleasure was mounting, a wave cresting higher and higher, but your strength was failing. Your movements growing sloppy, your thighs trembling violently with the strain of holding yourself up and riding him. The pleasure was racking you to your core, making a body already not adjusted to long tests of endurance waver after each moan from sliding up and down.

"Sahh…Satoru," you gasped, your voice weak and breathless. "I can't… it’s too much."

"Don't worry," he said, his voice a soft rumble against your chest, another tender kiss pressed against your temple. "I've got you."

His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. In one powerful motion, he took over, thrusting up into you, lifting you up with such incredible ease then back down, the power of his tail leading to incredible pushes up into you at the same time. The change was immediate and devastating. His strokes were long, hard, and impossibly deep, far more forceful than your own tired movements could have ever been.

He drove into you with a primal rhythm, his hips snapping up to meet yours, the ridges of his cock now hammering against that sensitive spot inside you without mercy. It took only seconds longer of the intense waves of sensation to cause another orgasm to rip through you, this one more intense than the first, making your body alight with sensation, nerves tingling from your spine to the tips of your fingers and toes, which curled with the intense forces coursing through your system.

He didn’t ease up though, nor stop. You didn’t ask for it, you just enjoyed how one orgasm simply made you more sensitive, your body becoming more of a system of intense pleasure, whimpers, and moans, a boneless mess as he drove into you again and again. You were only just able to get your body to move as you wanted, gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the softer scales to keep yourself somewhat stable.

It may have been more accurate that he wasn’t fucking you, but fucking himself with you at that point. Each powerful thrust was no longer a collaboration of you rocking your body up and down and him lifting you to make it easier, it was instead his rough chasing of sensation, of pleasure that he was clearly enveloping him too. His body was growing warmer, his eyes growing less focused on just admiring the place where his cock met your pussy or watching your reaction, and instead growing more glazed as he grew closer and closer, his breaths and moans growing more ragged and rough.

You weren’t sure how many orgasms you had reached when he was finally closing in. It felt impossible to track it as your mind numbed to a sex-addled state where nothing mattered besides that orgasm, the intense waves of one seeming to flow exactly into the next, every nerve of your body growing more and more addicted to the sensation. You knew he could feel it though, feel just how his hips seemed to shutter at the feeling of the muscles of your cunt clench around his length, see it in his face as it scrunched and his sounds of pleasure grew louder as he admired your tightness.

He continued to drive into you, his powerful thrusts relentless as he chased his climax. His rhythm grew erratic, his movements becoming sharper, more desperate. A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat, his fingers tightening on your hips almost to the point of pain. With one final, deep, grinding thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you.

You felt Satoru’s cock pulse inside of you and then the feeling of the hot flood of his release filling you, his entire body going rigid as a guttural cry escaped his lips. He held you there, pressed against him, as the last few pulses of his orgasm wracked his strong frame. Then, he collapsed back against the edge of the pool, his chest heaving, his grip on you loosening as you laid against his chest, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. You were glad for it, as your body barely responded to command at first, still processing the absolute pleasure you’d been enveloped by, a sense which was replaced from the joy of the blissful heat of his cum inside of you.

For a while after, you two laid together, listening to the sound of the waves and the steady slowing of your heartbeats, his hand lazily rubbing your back and his lips pressing gentle kisses against the crown of your head.

“Little star,” Satoru’s voice broke the peace eventually, his usual smug and teasing tone returning as he pulled back, his lips meeting yours. This kiss was different from the ones before. It wasn't hungry or demanding. It was slow, tender, and impossibly gentle. His lips were soft, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth with a reverence that made your heart ache. “I brought a gift for you, I was going to give it to you earlier but I got a bit distracted.”

You laughed then, shaking your head. “Just a bit distracted hmm?” you tease back, lightly poking his cheek. “This is a bit more than a distraction isn't it?”

He rolled his eyes at you and reached to the side, where his small woven bag was, he rummaged through it for a moment, until he pulled out his hand, a necklace resting in his palm.

The cord was simple but sturdy, braided tightly from fine strands of dried seaweed. At its center hung one of his scales, larger than the others, a depth that caught the light perfectly, shimmering faintly even out of the water. Framing it on either side were two pearls, the colour of the moon.

Your breath caught in your chest, your cheeks flushing as if he was not still buried inside of you.

“This is yours,” he said, and there was no arrogance in his tone now, only a gentle softness. “I want you to have it.”

Your fingers hovered over it before you finally touched it. It was smooth, cool at first contact, then warming quickly against your skin.

“You made this… for me?”

He nodded once. “The pearls too. They’re from deeper water. I thought they looked like stars in the night sky.” A small smirk tugged at his mouth then. “Bright and shiny, hard to ignore.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head at his surprising sweetness.

“In my pod,” Satoru continued more seriously, “we don’t give our scales away lightly. It means protection. It means you are mine to guard and care for, and the pearls…” His thumb brushed over one gently. “They mean promise.”

He moved closer, carefully lifting your hair away from your neck. His fingers were careful as he tied the cord in place, the scale settling against the center of your chest.

“There,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your shoulder. “Now everyone who sees you will know.”

“Know what?” You responded, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

“That you are mine.”

AN: i seriously missed writing monster fucking smut, i'm hoping this swings me back into writing it since i do truly adore writing it!

my inbox is open with requests <3

[dorkinit4ever]

Best request ever 🥹🥹

[dorkinit4ever]

Wrote this down at midnight... Would you guys read this oneshot???? Idk I'm thinkin 5-10k words smut with plot def p in v possibly more... Comment if you wanna get tagged also pls vote 🙏🙏🙏

Would you read??? 👀👀👀

Yeah

Ew no idea is trash

Needs more polishing...

Voting ended onJan 20

[dorkinit4ever]

So hey I might be finishing this idea up soon if u wanna get tagged comment now 👀👀👀

[satorvswifey]

───OBSESSIVELY, YOURS. part one

. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . pairings: yandere! nerd (?) gojo x fem reader

summary: you fell in love with satoru gojo, slowly, stupidly, and all at once. he gives you everything—attention, devotion, a future—except the one thing you need, love.

warnings: mdni! mild dark romance, yandere, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, gojo is obsessed, explicit sexual content, nerd rich gojo but he's popular ish, angst, not a happy ending (yet, maybe?) this is part one. wc: 9k

a/n: more works? + fanart cred a/nek0zuu_ || short explanation in a/n at the end

When you first met Satoru Gojo, you, the closed-hearted girl, had fallen in love at first sight. 

It was embarrassing, really. The kind of embarrassing that is also very weird, because you don’t really understand why your heart starts palpitating like crazy.

What can you say? You’ve never really had crushes before. 

Upon laying your eyes on him, you finally have the comprehension on, why? Gojo was so ethereal that you felt God himself have given the special treatment when he was created.

White hair, tousled in a way that looked effortless, yet soft. Bright, baby blue eyes hidden behind glasses that somehow made him look even more dangerous… and sexy. Really sexy.

His lashes were stupidly long too, as if boosting his already beautiful appearance. And his mouth… always half-curved into a smile, like he was constantly entertained, even when he was being quiet.

And he is tall, about 6’3’’, the kind of tall that makes your head crane to look up at him. Broad shoulders, long legs, and toned muscles everywhere that makes you daydream about what else is hidden.

You had started going to office hours because no matter how hard you try, you are really bad at physics, which is very bad news to you, because that is a requirement course to graduate and earn your degree. 

It’s honestly unfair.

Because it’s not just that he’s attractive. It’s the way he carries himself like he belongs everywhere he goes. As if the world naturally makes space for him.

And the worst part? He appears to be genuinely nice. Not fake-nice. Not “I’m rich and pretending to be humble” nice.

He’s the kind of nice that makes you second guess yourself. The kind that makes you wonder if you’ve been living your whole life with your guard up for no reason.

He laughs easily, smiles at strangers, holds doors open, and somehow never looks annoyed when someone talks to him.

Like he has all the patience in the world.

Everyone on campus knows his name, even the people who pretend they don’t. He’s the heir to Gojo Corps, the multi-billion dollar tech empire that takes over the whole world, and somehow he walks around like a tamed, golden retriever.

And of course he’s smart too, because why wouldn’t he be? So when you saw his name on the course page, you thought you were hallucinating.

Office Hours — TA: S. Gojo

Your stomach dropped so hard you had to stare at the screen for a full minute just to make sure it was real because you didn’t just need tutoring, you needed a miracle.

Math was required to graduate, and you were running out of time. And no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you sat down with your notes and promised yourself you were going to lock in, it always ended with you feeling frustrated.

After hyping yourself up, with a notebook hugged to your chest, and fingers gripping the spiral so tight it almost hurts, you are currently pacing outside the tutoring room, and you could hear your own heartbeat.

It’s so stupid. You are acting stupid, you scolded yourself mentally.

You took a breath, before knocking. A few seconds passed, and the door opened, and there he was, all in his glorious flesh.

Up close, he was even worse. His hair looked softer than it had any right to be. His glasses sat low on his nose like he’d pushed them down without thinking. His eyes were bright, almost too bright, and when he looked at you, it felt like he was actually analyzing you.

His expression shifted into a smile, easy and warm, and it made your insides gooey. “Hey,” he said, voice calm, almost amused. “Are you here for office hours?”

Your brain short-circuited, before nodding quickly. “Yeah.”

Gojo’s smile widened like that was the cutest answer he’d ever heard.

“Cool,” he said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

You stepped inside, the door clicking shut like it sealed the rest of the world away.

The room smelled like black coffee and that clean, expensive cologne of his, and when he gestured to the chair with that easy smile, your heart did its stupid flip again. He dropped onto his seat, legs stretching long under the desk, and the first session melted into vectors, forces, and his patient voice turning your panic into something almost manageable.

Weeks blurred after that—Tuesday and Thursday office hours had become your comfortable anchor.

He’d lean over your shoulder to point at your screen, sleeve brushing your arm, and you’d forget how to breathe for a second while he murmured, “See? You’re closer than you think.” You left with his neat handwriting filling your notes and the feeling of warmth blossoming in your chest that you couldn’t ignore.

You shoved her shoulder, muttering, “It’s just tutoring,” but she wasn’t wrong—he’d already insisted on a first-name basis after your second session. “Call me Satoru,” he’d said with that easy grin, leaning back in his chair like the whole world was his personal beanbag. “We’re friends now, after all.”

It feels like fate dropped you a new best friend since Satoru started appearing everywhere like he’d hacked your location.

Third-floor library, fifth row to the back, where you ghost everyone to ugly-cry over problem sets? Satoru slides in across from you, hoodie up, laptop already open, eyes widened as if he’s shocked, “They have better lighting here, right?”

Or how, your routine 3pm café break when you’re half-dead from no sleep? He’s at the counter before you finish ordering, black Amex flashing, voice all soft “I got hers too.” while the barista gives you heart-eyes, lips somewhat pouting.

It’s endless at this point. 2 a.m. vending machine run, mascara-streaked and cursing calculus calculations under your breath? Satoru materializes out of the shadows, hands you a ramune like he’s been waiting, goes “sugar helps, drink” in that gentle tone that makes your brain reboot. 

He doesn’t talk to anyone else on campus—people still call him, the untouchable genius heir, who speedruns lectures and then disappears into his headphones—but with you he’s all quiet rambles about cursed late-night TikToks, or how he throws his breathy laughs at your silly jokes.

One night you’re both still in his office way past midnight, city lights bleeding through the windows, and you finally crack that demonic problem that’s been gaslighting you for days. You let out this pathetic triumphant squeak-fist-pump and he looks up, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, hitting you with the softest, widest grin. 

“There she is,” he murmurs, voice low and fond like he’s been holding his breath for it. “I always knew you fucking had it.”

Shoko’s text pings while you’re walking back to your dorm, cheeks burning, as Gojo is trailing behind your back, eyes practically glued onto you, not that you could see that anyways.

shoko

babe tell me why i just saw THE satoru gojo (your “tutor” allegedly) carrying your bag across campus like it’s his full-time job

shoko

y’all are gonna make the prettiest babies i’m calling it now >.<

You felt your cheeks start hurting after smiling from Shoko’s texts, your interest immediately piqued after receiving a new notification from your white-haired tutor. His latest message glowing on your screen—proud of you tonight. text me when you’re about to fall asleep—and you feel your heart do the dumbest little somersault.

Yeah you’re so deep in it you don’t even know it. 

After attempting to keep things normal after that first proud of you tonight text—like you didn’t read it three times before falling asleep. Tuesday and Thursday office hours stayed your routine. Satoru stayed your quiet little anchor, steady and patient, and eyes still hard to look at for too long. 

But through tutoring, you were also getting better at physics, which still felt like a miracle. It was almost embarrassing how much you wanted to impress him, how your chest warmed whenever he looked proud. It wasn’t even about the grade anymore, not fully. It was about the way his smile looked when you finally got something right.

He never rushed you, never made you feel stupid, and somehow that made it worse. It made you soften without meaning to, made you start talking more than you normally would. Little things slipped out, like what you were reading for your English seminar, or how you hated fluorescent lighting, or how you’d been living off iced coffee and spite. He listened like it mattered, like every word got filed away somewhere behind those bright eyes.

It was fine. It was sweet. 

Until you started noticing tiny moments where he felt… a little off, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

It happened the first time on a Thursday afternoon, right after office hours, when you were standing outside the building trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person again. Your physics classmate—some guy who always smelled like laundry detergent and confidence—jogged up beside you with a grin. 

“Hey,” he said, sliding into your space like he was allowed to. “You’re getting better, right? Wanna go over the quiz together later?” You laughed awkwardly, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Yeah, maybe,” you said. “I’ll see.”

And then you heard it.

“Hey there.” Satoru’s voice, right behind you, warm and casual like he was just passing through.

You turned, and there he was, walking out of the tutoring room with his laptop tucked under his arm.

His hair was a little messy like he’d run his hand through it, and he looked relaxed, almost lazy, like he wasn’t stepping into anything at all. But when his gaze landed on the guy beside you, the muscle next to his right eye ticked once.

Quick enough that if you blinked, you’d miss it.

He smiled right after like it never happened, and your classmate straightened up like he suddenly realized he was standing too close to a thunderstorm. Satoru shifted slightly, not blocking you exactly, but close enough that your shoulder almost brushed his chest. “You heading out?” he asked you, voice soft like he was talking to you alone.

Your heart did something dumb. “Yeah,” you said, biting your lip. “I was just—”

“Cool,” Satoru said, still smiling. “I’ll walk you.”

The guy laughed, a little forced. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know you two were—”

Satoru’s smile stayed sweet. His eyes stayed bright. His tone stayed friendly.

“Oh, it’s my favorite student’s tutoring session after all,” he said simply, like that was the only explanation anyone needed.

You didn’t know why it made your cheeks burn, and you didn’t know why it made the guy back off with a quick, “Yeah, okay, see you in class,” like he suddenly remembered somewhere else to be.

Satoru waited until he was gone before looking at you again. “You okay?” he asked, like you were the one who needed saving. His voice was gentle, but the muscle beside his right eye twitched again, softer this time, like he was swallowing something down.

“I’m fine,” you said, shoulders grazing his as you both started walking. “He was just asking about studying.”

Satoru hummed, like he was processing it. “Mhm.”

Then he tipped his head, smiling like nothing was wrong. “You don’t need him for that, though,” he said. “I already made you a review sheet.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh… you did?” you said, blinking. “Thank you, Satoru.”

He nodded once, like it was obvious. Like it was always going to be him.

The second time happened in the library a few days later, when you were stuck on a paragraph for your English essay and your brain was fried.

Shoko sat across from you, chewing gum and judging you with her whole face while you stared at your laptop like it personally betrayed you. “You’re being dramatic,” she said, biting the edge of her pen. “Just write the stupid thesis.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, dropping your forehead onto your notebook. “I can’t do it.” Shoko snorted. “You’re literally an English major.”

“Exactly,” you groaned. “That’s why this is humiliating.”

A voice cut in from the side, quiet but amused. “Need help?”

You lifted your head, already knowing before you saw him, because your body was ridiculous like that. It was like you could sense his presence, like your brain had started making room for him without asking permission. Satoru stood there with a coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other, looking like he belonged in the library more than anyone else.

He didn’t even act surprised to see you.

He just smiled softly, like this was where you were supposed to be.

Shoko’s eyes widened like she just found gold. “Oh my god,” she whispered, leaning back in her chair. “Boyfriend’s here.”

Satoru set the coffee down in front of you like it was a gift. “You didn’t eat,” he said simply.

You blinked. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged, too casual. “I can tell.”

Shoko made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and disbelief. “That’s insane.” Satoru smiled politely at her. “Hi, Shoko.” 

“Hi,” she said slowly, eyes narrowed in a playful way. “Why are you here?”

Satoru’s smile didn’t move. “Helping my student study.” He looked at you again, softening like Shoko didn’t exist. “You look tired,” he said, frowning slightly. “Did you sleep well?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, because the answer was no. You hadn’t been sleeping, not really, not with finals creeping closer and your brain spinning all the time. Satoru watched your face like he was reading it, and the muscle beside his right eye ticked once, sharp and quick.

Shoko reached over and nudged your arm with her pen, eyebrows raised like she was watching a romcom unfold in real time. “Look at you,” she murmured, amused. “You’re literally glowing. This is disgusting.”

You glared at her, but it didn’t land because your face was already warm. “Shut up,” you whispered back, trying to sound annoyed when you obviously weren’t.

Shoko leaned back in her chair, chewing her gum like she had nowhere else to be, and then her eyes slid up to Satoru with a slow, knowing smile. “So,” she said casually, like she was making conversation and not interrogating him at all, “you two just… happen to have the same schedule or something?”

Satoru’s smile stayed polite, soft around the edges. “Something like that,” he answered with a shrug. He slid the paper bag closer to you and nodded once, calm and firm. “Eat first,” he said again, softer this time. “Then you can hate your essay in peace.”

You laughed, breathless, because the way he said it made it sound like he was taking care of you without even trying. “You’re really offering to help me with English stuff too?” you asked, half-joking. “Aren’t you supposed to be a busy man?”

Satoru hummed like he was thinking. “Only for you,” he said, and the wink he gave you was so smooth it should’ve been illegal. Then he added, like it was nothing, “I can be useful in multiple ways.”

Shoko made a small noise like she was trying not to smile too hard, then looked down at her phone again like she was giving you space on purpose. But you still caught her glance up once more, quick and careful.

Like she was analyzing him too.

The third time was almost stupid, because it was so small you could explain it away if you wanted to.

You were outside your English class when your classmate caught up again, like he’d been waiting for you to step out. He was talking about the reading and how your answer in discussion was “actually really creative,” and you were responding politely, awkwardly, trying to be nice without encouraging anything. He walked with you down the path, matching your pace like it was natural, like you didn’t already feel his shoulder getting a little too close.

“Hey, so do you wanna maybe grab coffee later?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck. “Like… just as frien—”

You were about to answer when a voice cut in, warm and familiar. “There you are.”

You turned your head and Satoru was walking toward you from the opposite direction, hands in his pockets like he wasn’t in a rush. He looked normal, calm, like he’d just finished class or something, but his eyes landed on you and softened instantly. It was subtle, but it was there, like he was relieved in a way he didn’t know how to show.

“Hey,” you said, waving at him, and your heart did that stupid little flip again.

Satoru’s gaze flicked to the guy beside you, and the muscle next to his right eye jumped once, quick and sharp. It was so small you almost missed it, except you’d been noticing it more lately. He blinked and the twitch was gone, a smile sliding back into place like nothing happened.

“Oh,” your classmate said, glancing between you two. “What’s up?”

Satoru smiled at him, polite enough to pass, but his attention didn’t really stick. “Nothing,” he said easily. “Just stealing her for a second.”

He didn’t wait for permission.

He stepped closer to you, just slightly, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed, and he tipped his head down like he was telling you a secret. “You didn’t text me back,” he said quietly, like it was casual, like it wasn’t making your stomach drop.

You blinked at him. “Satoru, I was literally in class.”

He hummed like he was considering that, eyes still on you. “Mhm,” he said, completely unbothered. Then, softer, like it slipped out before he could stop it, he added, “And I missed you.”

Your brain fully short-circuited.

Your classmate made an awkward sound, like he suddenly remembered he had free will. “Uh… I’ll see you later,” he said, already jogging away.

“Yeah,” you said, still dazed. “See you.”

The second he was gone, Satoru exhaled like he’d been holding something in his chest. His smile brightened, like he didn’t have to perform anymore. He reached out and fixed your bag strap like it was crooked even though it wasn’t, fingers brushing your shoulder for half a second too long.

You tried to keep it light, because that’s what you always did when you didn’t know what to do with your feelings. “You’re kinda intense,” you said, laughing a little.

Satoru’s smile turned slower, like he was thinking. “I’m just attentive,” he said softly. His voice was gentle enough to make your chest tighten, and you hated how easily you melted for it.

He looked down at you, eyes bright behind his glasses, and added like it was a joke, “Besides… I don’t like sharing.”

You laughed like it was funny, because it was easier than admitting how good it felt. But the muscle beside his right eye twitched again, quick and sharp, and this time you understood what it was.

Restraint.

It starts small, the way most bad habits do. A casual “come study at my place” said like it’s nothing, like it isn’t a loaded invitation that makes your stomach flip. He says it with that same gentle voice he uses when you’re spiraling over a problem, like he’s doing you a favor. “It’s quieter,” he adds, like he’s being practical. “You’ll focus better.”

You should say no. You should go back to your dorm, eat something that isn’t a granola bar, and stop letting Satoru Gojo become your entire week. But you’re tired and your brain hurts and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you’re going to do. So you nod, because it feels easier than arguing.

His dorm isn’t a dorm. It’s a penthouse that just happens to be on campus, like someone built it for him and called it student housing as a joke. The elevator opens straight into his place, and the first thing you notice is the view, all city lights and glass and height that makes your stomach swoop. The second thing you notice is how clean everything is, like nobody actually lives here except him.

And then you notice the little things.

A throw blanket folded perfectly on the couch, soft enough to look expensive. A kitchen stocked like he’s been expecting you, with snacks you’ve mentioned once in passing. A mug already sitting by the coffee machine, the exact shade you like, like he didn’t buy it for himself at all.

You swallow. “This feels like I’m moving in.”

Satoru shrugs, like it’s nothing, like he doesn’t live in a literal rich person dream.

“Don’t fret too much about it,” he says easily, taking your bag from your shoulder without asking. He sets it down by the couch like it belongs there, like you belong there too. “Sit,” he tells you gently. “I’ll grab your notes.”

You sit, because your legs feel a little weak, and because saying no to him feels like trying to push back the ocean. He disappears into his room for a second, and you hear drawers opening, paper shifting, like he has a whole system for you.

When he comes back, he’s holding a folder with your name written on it in neat handwriting.

Your name. On his stuff.

“Stop,” you laugh, breathless. “You’re insane.”

Satoru smiles like he likes being called that. “I’m prepared,” he corrects, sitting beside you and sliding the folder into your lap. His knee brushes yours, just barely, but you feel it anyway. “You’re going to pass. I’m not letting you fail.”

That should scare you. Instead it makes your chest warm, like you’ve never had someone say something that certain about you before.

You study for hours.

The time moves weird in his apartment, like it doesn’t count the same way it does everywhere else. He explains things slowly, patient and calm, and every time you get something right his eyes brighten like you just gave him a gift. When you finally yawn and blink at the clock, it’s almost midnight.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. “I should go.” Satoru glances at you, then at the time, like he’s considering something.

“It’s late,” he says, voice soft. “You should sleep over.”

You laugh, because obviously not. “Satoru—”

“You can take the spare bedroom,” he adds quickly, like he’s making it easier. Like he’s not asking for anything weird. “I have extra blankets. You’re exhausted.”

You hesitate, because it’s not a bad idea. Because your dorm is across campus and your body feels heavy. Because the idea of leaving him suddenly feels… wrong, like you’re walking away from something safe.

So you stay.

And that’s how it begins.

It becomes a pattern without you noticing. One late night turns into two. Two turns into “just until midterms are over.”

Then suddenly you’re showing up with your tote bag like it’s normal, kicking off your shoes at the door like you live there. Satoru never comments on it, never makes a big deal out of it, just makes room for you like the space was always meant to hold you.

Shoko finds out the way she finds out everything, by seeing you walk out of the elevator with messy hair and Satoru’s hoodie draped over your arms. She stares at you like she’s watching a car crash in slow motion. “Oh,” she deadpans, voice flat. “So you’re not even pretending anymore.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the heat in your cheeks. “It was late,” you say, like it’s an excuse. “We were studying.”

Shoko’s gaze flicks over your face, then down to the hoodie, then back up. “Mhm,” she says, not convinced. “Studying.”

You shove her shoulder, laughing, but your stomach twists anyway. Because she’s right. Because you stopped pretending the second you realized how easy it was to be around him.

You tell yourself it's a coincidence. That campus is small. That you’re both busy and just happen to overlap.

But then it keeps happening.

You mention offhand that you like a certain brand of pens, and the next time you’re at his place there’s a pack of them sitting on the counter like it’s always been there. You complain once about your dorm being too loud, and suddenly he’s offering you noise-canceling headphones like it’s nothing. You say you’re cold, and he drapes a blanket over your shoulders without even looking up from his laptop, like your comfort is automatic.

It’s sweet. It’s too sweet.

And the worst part is how natural it feels, like your life is slowly rearranging itself around him and you’re not even fighting it.

One afternoon, you’re walking with Shoko to grab food when you see that English classmate again. He waves, smiling like he’s still trying, and Shoko nudges you with her elbow. “He’s cute,” she says, teasing. “You should give him a chance.”

You scoff, because you’re supposed to. “I’m busy.”

“Busy with what?” Shoko asks, grinning. “Physics? Or your emotionally unavailable billionaire tutor?”

You choke on air. “Shoko.”

She laughs, but you can tell she’s watching you more closely now. Like she’s starting to realize this isn’t just a crush. Like she’s noticing how you don’t really look around anymore, because you’ve started expecting Satoru to be there.

And then, like the universe is proving her point, Satoru appears at the end of the walkway.

He’s not rushing. He’s not searching. He’s just walking like he has all the time in the world, eyes scanning the crowd until they land on you. His expression softens instantly, and your heart does that stupid flip again, like it’s trained.

Shoko groans under her breath. “He’s literally summoned.”

You laugh, but it comes out shaky, because she’s right. Because the timing is always too perfect.

Satoru stops in front of you, his gaze warm behind his glasses. “Hey,” he says softly. “Have you grabbed lunch?”

You blink. “Yeah, we were about to.”

He nods once, satisfied, like he just checked something off in his head. “Good,” he says, and his right eye twitches faintly, so quick you almost miss it. Then he smiles again, sweet and easy. “Come with me.”

Shoko makes a sound like she’s trying not to laugh. “Do you want me to leave or…?”

Satoru glances at her politely, then looks back at you like Shoko is background noise. “She can come,” he says, like he’s generous. Like he’s allowing it.

You should feel weird about that. Instead you feel warm.

Because he wants you near him. Because he likes you close. Because when he says “come with me,” your body listens before your brain can argue.

Later that night, you’re in his penthouse again, curled up on the couch with your laptop open and your legs tucked under you. Satoru is at the desk, focused, typing something with that calm intensity that makes him look even more unreal. The city lights glow behind him, turning his white hair silver, and for a second you forget how to breathe.

You glance down at your notes, then back up at him. “Satoru?”

He looks over immediately. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, fingers tightening around your pen. “Do you ever get tired?” you ask quietly. “Of… everything?”

Satoru’s expression doesn’t change much, but the muscle beside his right eye twitches once, sharp and fast. It’s gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by that soft smile like he’s fine, like he’s always fine. He stands up and walks over to you, slow and unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be.

When he stops in front of you, he reaches out and smooths your hair back from your face, gentle like he’s done it a thousand times. “I’m okay,” he says softly. “I just like being with you.”

Your throat tightens.

You try to laugh it off, because you don’t know what else to do with that. “That’s a weird hobby.”

Satoru’s smile widens, amused. “Yeah,” he says, voice warm. “But it’s mine.”

And you hate how much you like it.

You hate how easily you let him have you, piece by piece, without even realizing you’re handing yourself over. You hate how your dorm room is starting to feel unfamiliar, like you’re only visiting it now, like you keep forgetting where you’re supposed to belong. You hate how your life is starting to look like his, like it’s being gently guided into place with soft hands and pretty words.

And then you blink, and you’re here again.

On his couch, legs already half-tangled in that stupidly soft blanket, laptop shoved aside because your notes stopped mattering like twenty minutes ago. The city lights spill through the windows, catching in his white hair and turning it silver, and he’s sitting too close. Knee pressed firmly to yours, arm draped along the back of the couch, fingers grazing the nape of your neck like he’s been dying to touch you there all night.

He notices the shift in your breathing instantly.

"You're shaking," he murmurs, voice so low it vibrates through you. His thumb traces your pulse point, slow and deliberate, counting every frantic beat. "Tell me why."

You can't meet his eyes. If you do, you'll break. "Because I want you," you whisper. "And I've never…"

Satoru exhales sharply, like the words punched the air out of him. "Me neither." His voice cracks on the admission, raw and unguarded. "But I've imagined it. You. Every night since you first sat across from me in office hours, biting your lip when you got a problem wrong."

The confession lands heavy. Your thighs clench involuntarily.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. "Tell me to stop." It's half plea, half command. "Or tell me you want me to ruin you."

You surge forward and kiss him.

It's messy from the start—teeth clashing, tongues sliding, his hand fisting in your hair to tilt your head exactly how he wants. He groans into your mouth, deep and desperate, and the sound unravels you. You claw at his hoodie; he yanks it off one-handed, then tears yours over your head so fast the fabric burns your skin. Bare chest meets bare chest, his body fever-hot and hard against yours, heartbeat slamming in sync with your own.

He hauls you into his lap without breaking the kiss, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints. You grind down and feel him—thick, rigid, straining and he hisses, head tipping back against the cushions.

"Fuck," he rasps. "You have no idea."

You roll your hips again, deliberate, and his control splinters.

In one fluid motion he flips you—your back hits the couch, him looming above, glasses crooked, hair wild. His mouth descends on your throat—biting, sucking, marking—while his hands shove your leggings down your thighs.

When you're bare he stares, chest heaving, eyes dark with something feral. "Beautiful," he breathes. "So fucking perfect."

Then his head drops and his mouth is on you.

You cry out the instant his tongue touches your clit—flat, hot, dragging slow before he sucks hard. He eats you like he's starving, no gentleness, just relentless circles with the tip of his tongue, two long fingers sliding inside and curling immediately to that spot that whites out your vision. 

You buck against his face; he pins your hips with one forearm, growling low when you try to twist away from the overwhelming pleasure. "S’toru—too much—,” but he doesn't relent. 

After seeing your enjoyment, he intensifies—sucking harder, fingers thrusting faster, free hand reaching up to pinch your nipple until you're sobbing his name. The orgasm crashes through you. It was violent and shattering—your whole body locking as you come on his tongue and fingers, thighs clamping around his head. He licks you through every shudder, slower now, softer, until you're trembling and oversensitive and weakly pushing at his hair.

When he finally rises his chin glistens, lips swollen, eyes wild. He crawls up your body, kissing you deep so you taste yourself on him, and the raw filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

"Condom," you gasp.

He's already ripping the packet open with his teeth, rolling it on with shaking hands. Then he's back, cock nudging your entrance, thick head catching and making you whimper.

"Look at me," he orders, voice gravel.

You do. 

He pushes in slow—agonizingly slow—watching your face the whole time. The stretch burns, borders on too much, but he pauses every inch, kissing your tears away, whispering "you're doing so good, baby, taking me so well" until he's buried deep. You both freeze, foreheads pressed, breathing ragged.

"Fuck," he chokes. "You're so tight. So perfect for me."

Then he moves.

The first thrust is controlled—deep, rolling—but when you arch and moan brokenly he snaps. He fucks you hard, hips snapping, every stroke dragging against that spot that makes you see stars. You wrap your legs around his waist; he hooks one arm under your knee, folding you open wider so he can go deeper, harder, relentless.

"Mine," he growls against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse. "Say it."

"Yours," you sob, nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood. "Yours, Satoru—fuck."

He reaches between you, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing tight frantic circles while he pounds into you. You're climbing fast—too soon, too intense—and he feels it, feels you fluttering.

"Come again," he demands, voice cracking. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you fall apart."

You shatter, screaming his name, walls clamping down so hard he chokes on a curse. He fucks you through it until his rhythm stutters and he slams in one last time, burying himself deep as he comes with a broken groan, hips jerking, spilling into the condom while his whole body shakes.

He collapses on top of you, crushing you in the best way, face buried in your neck. You're both trembling, slick with sweat, hearts pounding like they're trying to fuse.

After long minutes he lifts his head, glasses crooked, hair destroyed, looking at you like you rewrote his reality.

"Was that… okay?" he asks, voice small now, almost vulnerable. You laugh—breathless, your whole body aching, before pulling him down for a slow, soft kiss.

"More than okay," you whisper. "You're… too good at this."

Satoru smiles boyishly as if he’s shy—it was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. "Good," he murmurs, nuzzling into your throat. "Because I'm not letting you leave this couch tonight."

After, you lay there tangled together in the dark, breathing slow, bodies still buzzing like you touched something you weren’t supposed to. He doesn’t let you go, not even when you shift, not even when you try to turn your face away from how intense it feels. His arm stays locked around your waist like a promise.

Like a claim.

It doesn’t happen overnight.

It’s more like a slow blur, the kind you only notice when you look back and realize you’ve been smiling for weeks straight. Office hours turn into coffee after, coffee turns into late-night studying, and late-night studying turns into you sitting on his couch with your legs tucked under you like it’s always been yours.

Satoru never pushes. He never says, stay longer, or don’t go, or I want you here.

He just looks at you with those bright eyes behind his glasses and somehow, you always folded.

But then, you start leaving things at his place by accident.

A hair tie on his bathroom counter. A lip balm in his hoodie pocket. A random paperback you swear you brought over once and then never saw again until it’s suddenly sitting on his nightstand like it lives there now.

You notice it one morning while he’s making coffee, barefoot in his kitchen like it’s normal. Like you didn’t used to be a girl who slept alone and kept her life locked up tight.

You pick the book up slowly. “Why is my copy of Wuthering Heights here?”

Satoru doesn’t even look up from the coffee machine. “You left it.”

“I did not.”

He hums, amused. “You did.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you stealing my stuff?”

Now he looks over, smile soft, like you’re adorable for accusing him. “No,” he says, too calm. “I was just bringing it over just in case you want to read it before you sleep.”

“That- I-”

Satoru’s right eye twitches once, quick and sharp, then disappears like it never happened. He sets your mug down in front of you, the exact way you like it, and his voice stays gentle. “Drink,” he says. “You get mean when you’re missing your caffeine mix.”

You sputter. “I do not—”

“You do,” he cuts in, smiling wider, before pinching your cheeks. “It’s cute.” Your chest warms so fast it’s embarrassing. You look down at the coffee like it personally betrayed you, then mutter, “I hate you.”

Satoru leans on the counter across from you, chin resting on his hand, gaze fixed on your face like he’s watching something he likes. “No, you don’t,” he says softly.

The first time he buys you something, it’s so casual you almost miss the moment it becomes a problem.

You’re walking off campus after class, complaining about your essay and how your professor thinks suffering builds character. Satoru listens the way he always does, quiet but attentive, making those little sounds like he’s following every word.

You pass a boutique and your eyes flick to the window for half a second.

That’s it.

But Satoru slows down like someone tugged at his sleeve. “That one?” he asks. You blink, confused. “What?”

He nods toward the display. A dress. Soft fabric, delicate straps, the kind of thing you’d only wear if your life was romantic enough to deserve it. You laugh awkwardly. “It’s cute, but I’m not spending money on that.”

Satoru tilts his head, studying you. The muscle beside his right eye twitches once, like something in him catches.

Then he takes your hand like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Come on,” he says. “Just try it.”

You dig your heels in immediately. “Satoru, no.” He looks back at you, expression calm, almost amused. “Why not?”

“Because it’s expensive.”

“And?” he says, like you’re speaking another language. He smiles like that explains everything, before continuing, “You deserve all the pretty things.”

Your throat tightens. “That’s not—”

“It is,” he interrupts gently, squeezing your hand once. “Just try it. If you hate it, we leave.”

You hesitate. “And if I don’t hate it?”

Satoru’s smile turns slow. “Then we’ll deal with that.”

In the dressing room, you tell yourself you’re doing this as a joke.

You tell yourself it’s harmless. But when you step out and Satoru looks up from his phone, the air changes.

His gaze drags over you, slow and careful, like he’s memorizing you. His expression goes still, not shocked, not dramatic, just… focused. Like the world narrowed down to the shape of you in that dress.

The muscle beside his right eye twitches once, your gaze focuses on it, noticing how it would tick every time it feels like he’s suppressing some type of emotion. Then his face softens into something warm. “You look beautiful,” he compliments quietly.

You laugh, but it comes out shaky. “Oh, really?”

Satoru stands up, slow, and walks closer. He reaches out and fixes the strap on your shoulder, fingers brushing your skin like he’s testing how much you’ll let him touch. “Always, sweetheart.”

Your chest feels too full. “You say stuff like that and it makes me stupid.”

Satoru’s mouth curves. “Good,” he says softly, like it’s honest. “I like when you’re stupid with me.”

You smack his arm, flustered. “That sounded insane.”

“It’s true,” he says, unfazed. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.” You roll your eyes so hard it should count as cardio. “Stop.” Satoru’s eyes flick to your mouth. “Make me.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t push. Just watches you like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do.

You swallow, heart pounding, and whisper, “You’re so annoying.” Satoru smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “But you like me.”

And you hate how right he is, always.

After that, it becomes a pattern you pretend you don’t notice.

A necklace appears on his kitchen counter like it materialized out of thin air. You pick it up, staring at the little diamond catching the light. “Satoru,” you say slowly. “Why… is this here?”

He looks over from his laptop like you’re asking about the weather. “Ah, I picked it out for you, sweetheart.”

You blink. “Why.”

He shrugs. “Because I wanted to.”

“That’s not a reason,” you argue.

Satoru’s right eye twitches once, quick and sharp, and then his voice turns softer. “It is for me,” he says. “I like my beautiful woman wearing beautiful things, you deserve it. ”

Satoru stands up and walks over, taking the necklace from your hand. “Come here,” he says, like you’re already going to listen.

You do.

He fastens it around your throat, fingers lingering at the clasp, and when he’s done he brushes his knuckles over your skin like he can’t help himself.

“There,” he murmurs. “Perfect.”

You whisper, “You’re spoiling me.”

Satoru hums. “Good.”

It’s kind of scary how fast it becomes normal.

Wearing the things he buys you, I mean. The dress that sits in your closet like it owns the space. The necklace that always catches the light when you move. The heels you swore you’d never wear because they look like pain, but somehow they feel like him—expensive, careful, chosen.

At first you told yourself you were just playing along. Just letting him spoil you because it was sweet, because it made him happy, because you liked how his eyes looked when you wore something he picked. But then you blink and you’re standing in front of your mirror on a random Thursday, adjusting a bracelet you didn’t buy, like it’s always been yours.

Shoko notices, obviously. She always does.

She stares at your throat one morning while you’re waiting for coffee, gum snapping between her teeth. “Okay,” she says slowly, eyes narrowed in amusement, “so you’re wearing diamonds to a nine a.m. lecture now.”

You roll your eyes like you’re not blushing. “It’s not diamonds.”

Shoko leans in, squinting at the pendant. “It’s literally sparkling.”

You try to laugh it off, but your fingers still drift up, touching it like it’s a pulse point. Like it’s proof of something you can’t explain without sounding insane. “He just… got it,” you mumble, because it’s easier than saying he wanted you to have it.

Shoko makes a noise like she’s trying not to smile too hard. “Of course he did.”

And the thing is, Satoru never makes you feel guilty about it. 

He doesn’t act like he’s doing you a favor, doesn’t hold it over your head, doesn’t even bring it up after he gives it to you. He just watches you wear it like it makes something in him settle, but you love it all, his undying attention for you.

Shoko practically drags you by the wrist. “If you don’t leave that penthouse for at least two hours, I’m calling a wellness check,” she says, dead serious.

You scoff, trying to sound offended instead of guilty. “I don’t live there.”

Shoko shoots you a look that could end wars. “Girl, you don’t even live in your own dorm anymore.”

“That’s not—” you start, but your voice dies halfway through because… she’s not wrong. You’ve slept in your own bed so little lately that the sheets feel unfamiliar. Shoko smirks, like she can hear your thoughts. “Exactly. Now come on. I wanna see you exist in public like a normal person.”

The party is one of those campus events you can’t really dodge, the kind the school advertises like it’s “community-building” when it’s really just an excuse for everyone to dress up and pretend graduation isn’t creeping up behind them with a knife. People are laughing too loud, taking too many pictures, clinging to plastic cups like the punch is going to fix their futures.

You don’t even notice the guy at first.

He’s just… there. Standing a little too close while you’re waiting for Shoko to come back with drinks, laughing at something you say like it means more than it should. He asks about your major, tells you he liked what you said during a panel discussion last week, leans in like the music is louder than it actually is.

You’re answering politely, already half-distracted— and then the air shifts.

Satoru steps in smoothly, like he’s always been meant to stand exactly there. One arm slips around your waist, casual but firm, pulling you back until your spine fits flush against his chest. His chin dips toward your shoulder, breath warm against your skin.

“There you are,” he says lightly, eyes never leaving the guy’s face.

The smile is still there. Perfect. Pleasant.

The muscle beside his right eye twitches.

“Oh,” the guy says, faltering. “I didn’t know you were—”

Satoru tightens his hold just a fraction, thumb pressing into your hip like punctuation. “She’s with me,” he says, voice calm, almost bored. Not angry. Not loud. Just certain.

You feel it then—the way his body goes still, alert. Like he’s restraining something rather than reacting.

The guy laughs awkwardly, already stepping back. “Right. Sorry. My bad.”

“Yeah,” Satoru replies pleasantly. “It is.”

The moment he’s gone, Satoru exhales through his nose, slow and controlled. His grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, he pulls you closer, like he’s making sure you’re real.

“You okay?” he asks you, softer now.

You nod, heart beating a little too fast. “He was just talking.”

“I know,” Satoru says. His gaze flicks over the room once more, quick and assessing, before settling back on you. The twitch is gone, replaced by that easy smile. “I don’t like it.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “You don’t like anything.”

He leans down, voice low enough that it feels like a secret. “I don’t like sharing.”

A beat passes, heavy and quiet, like the night is holding its breath with you. Then his hand slides down and laces with yours, fingers warm, certain. “Let’s go home,” he says gently, like he’s offering relief, not control, and you don’t argue because crowds make your skin crawl and because his voice has always been good at smoothing the edges of things.

You let him lead you out, past the noise and the flashing lights, his grip steady the whole way. When someone brushes too close, he shifts without thinking, placing himself between you and the world like it’s instinct. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t look back, just keeps you tucked at his side until the air outside feels breathable again.

In the car, the city blurs by and neither of you talks. His thumb moves in slow circles over your knuckles, grounding, possessive in that quiet way he has. You watch the reflection of streetlights slide across his face and catch the smallest twitch near his right eye before it smooths out again, like something he swallowed down.

When he says home, your feet follow like they already know the path.

The door shuts behind you, and the penthouse feels too quiet all at once.

Not peaceful. Not comforting. Just empty in a way that makes your chest ache. Satoru moves like he always does—taking your bag, setting it down neatly, toeing your heels out of the way like he’s done it a hundred times. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He already decided you are.

You stand there longer than you should, fingers curling into the skirt of the dress he bought you. The necklace rests heavy against your throat, catching the light every time you breathe. You hate that you didn’t take it off. You hate that you don’t want to.The penthouse is too quiet when you get back, like it’s holding its breath.

Satoru closes the door behind you with the same care he always does, gentle, controlled. He takes your bag automatically, sets it where it belongs, reaches for your hand like it’s instinct. When you don’t give it to him right away, his fingers hover in the air for a second before curling back in on themselves.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he says softly. “Come sit, baby.”

You don’t move. The city lights spill in through the windows, catching on the jewelry he bought you, the dress he picked out. Suddenly it all feels wrong—too pretty, too deliberate.

“Satoru, is this just…” you start, then stop. You swallow hard. “Is this because you’re lonely? Or because you just want me in your bed?”

The question lands harder than you expect.

Satoru blinks, genuinely caught off guard. His right eye twitches once, quick and restrained. “Sweetheart, why would you say that?”

“Because you never say it,” you snap, turning to face him fully now. “You touch me, you keep me close, you get jealous when anyone even looks at me—but when I ask you what we are, you talk like it’s optional. Like I’m something you can adjust to.”

He steps closer immediately, hands gentle but insistent as they settle on your waist. “That’s not fair,” he says quietly. “I take care of you. I choose you every day.”

“But do you love me?” Your voice shakes. “Or am I just your friend with benefits?”

His jaw tightens. The twitch comes back, sharper now. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, lowering his forehead to yours. “It’s hard for me to perceive all these emotions, you know that I am practically bred to not feel emotions.”

“That doesn’t answer me.”

He exhales, slow and measured, like he’s trying not to lose control. “I care about you deeply,” he says. “You’re important to me. I don’t think about anyone else. I don’t want anyone else near you.”

“That’s possession,” you whisper, eyes tearing up. “Not love.”

His grip tightens just a fraction. “Why does the word matter so much to you?”

“Because it matters to me,” you say, tears burning. “Because I love you. And I need to know I’m not just filling an empty space in your life, and you can just disregard me whenever.”

Satoru goes quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is calm—too calm. “If you want us to be dating, then we are. If you want me to call you my girlfriend, I will. Labels don’t change what I already do for you.”

You laugh, broken. “That’s the problem. You’re willing to give me everything except the truth.”

He tilts his head, studying you like he always does. “I’ve never thought about dating the way you’re describing,” he admits. “I didn’t grow up with that. I didn’t need it. But you do—and I can accommodate that.”

The word makes your chest ache. “Accommodate?”

His right eye twitches again. He reaches up, cups your face, thumb brushing under your eye like he hates seeing you cry. “Baby,” he says softly, “I want to marry you after we graduate, and we’ll move to Tokyo together. And there, I’ll support you however you want to live your future, and anything you want, however much money, or dreams you have, I’ll give them all to you, fuck, for you.”

“But you still won’t say it,” your heart is slowly breaking painfully, and you still have not processed if he is either stubborn, or he just doesn’t love you. He doesn’t, your brain insisted. That’s what you had made yourself believe. And that silence answers you more clearly than anything else.

You pull back, shaking. “I love you,” you say again, like maybe repetition will make it real. “Do you love me?”

Satoru’s eyes soften—but he stays quiet. “I don’t know if that’s what this feeling is,” he says finally. “But I know I want you with me, forever, and I want to keep you safe and happy baby.” 

“So you want me,” you stated. “Just not the part where I’m allowed to be loved.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you mean.”

He reaches for you again, voice dropping, sweet and coaxing. “Stay tonight,” he murmurs. “Please. You’re overwhelmed. We’ll talk later. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

You should go. You know you should.

But his hands are warm, familiar. His voice is gentle in that way that always pulls you back. And some stupid part of you still believes that if you stay long enough, he’ll learn how to love you.

So you nod.

Satoru exhales in relief immediately, pulling you into his chest like he was afraid you’d disappear. His right eye twitches faintly as his arms wrap around you, secure and possessive.

“Good,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll take care of you.”

That night, you stay.

And over the next few days, you pretend everything is fine.

The days leading up to graduation blur together in a way that almost feels intentional.

Satoru keeps you close, like always. He kisses your temple when you’re half-asleep, pulls you into his chest when you drift too far away on the couch, murmurs soft nicknames into your hair like they’re instinctive. He feeds you, dresses you, reminds you to rest. He buys you things without asking, not because he thinks you want them, but because in his mind, that’s what love looks like—anticipation, provision, certainty.

You tell yourself this is happiness.

At night, when the city hums outside the penthouse windows, he talks about the future like it’s already real. Tokyo. The apartment he picked out. The quiet mornings you’ll have. The way he’ll make sure you never struggle.

“I’ll propose properly,” he says one evening, voice warm, arm heavy around your shoulders. “Somewhere beautiful. You’ll like it.”

You laugh softly, your fingers playing with his soft white hair. “You’re really sure about all this.”

He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Of course I am, baby. I take care of what’s mine.”

You don’t correct him. 

Graduation week arrives too fast. The night before, he reassures you again, hands framing your face like he’s steadying you. “Tomorrow’s just a formality,” he murmurs. “After that, everything about our dream life would begin. You don’t have to be scared. I’ve got you, always.”

You nodded, smiling as your eyes pretend to close, face against his chest, as you’re savoring the last moments of peacefulness. 

The morning of graduation, Shoko texts the group chat asking where you are. Satoru answers easily, not worried yet. “She’s probably getting ready,” he texted back, glancing at the clock. “She always takes a while to get ready.”

An hour passes. Then two.

Shoko starts calling your phone. Straight to voicemail.

Satoru’s jaw tightens, heart beating faster than ever. There is no way… but what if..

He goes to the bathroom first. Then the bedroom. Then every room in the penthouse, like you might suddenly appear if he checks the right corner. Your side of the closet is empty. The jewelry box he bought you is untouched—every necklace, every ring still there, laid out neatly like you never wore them.

His chest feels strange.

The penthouse doesn’t even feel warm anymore and it’s too quiet. He’s already moving by the time the thought finishes forming. Your dorm is the same. Bed made. Desk cleared. The expensive laptop he gave you sits unplugged, exactly where you left it. No note. No explanation. Just absence.

He tries your phone again, nothing. Opening his tracker app, he tracks your phone to see that the location is unknown. Satoru should have known at that point that you have been acting weird. 

Back at the penthouse, he tears through drawers, closets, anywhere you might’ve hidden something. His hands shake for the first time in years when he finally notices the envelope on the table.

He doesn’t open it right away.

When he does, the handwriting nearly breaks him.

To Satoru,

If you’re reading this, I hope I’d be far gone and you can’t even find me.

I love you. And that’s the problem.

I love you in a way that hurts me every day I stay.

You give me everything except the one thing I need, and I kept telling myself it was enough. That if I tried harder, waited longer, loved better, you’d feel it too.

But I don’t want a future built on “maybe.”

I don’t want to be someone you take care of because it makes sense. I want to be chosen because you feel it.

I know you would give me the world. I know you’d support my dreams. But I want to build something on my own, even if it’s harder, even if it’s lonelier.

I can’t marry a man who doesn’t know if he loves me.

I love you too much to stay.

Please don’t come looking for me.

— yours, always

The paper crumples in his fist.

He calls you again. And again. And again. 

When you finally pick up, he exhales like he’s been drowning. “Where are you, baby?” His voice is hoarse, but there’s something sharp under it now. “Tell me where you are, please.”

“I’m not telling you,” you say quietly. There’s a pause. Then softer. “Come home sweetheart.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” His control is slipping. Just barely. “You don’t have to do this. We were supposed to—”

“I’ll come back,” you interrupt, heart pounding, “if you answer one thing.”

Silence.

“Do you love me?” you ask.

Three seconds pass.

That’s all it takes.

You let out a shaky breath. “You don’t need to answer. I don’t want to force you.”

“Baby—” he starts.

“I love you,” you say quickly, before he can fill the space. “I just want you to know that. Even if we’re not meant to be, I hope you take care of yourself.”

Your voice softens. “Bye, Satoru.”

“I care for you,” he says, urgent now. “I—”

The call ends. The phone slips from his hand.

The penthouse feels wrong without you. Too big. Too empty. He stands there for a long time, staring at nothing, chest tight with something he doesn’t have a name for.

Not love. Not grief. 

Just loss.

And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo fully understands what it means for him to be at a total loss of control.

author's note: hi my loves, if you have managed to get all the way this far it means that part two is currently still under works. this is my second two part fic on tumblr so i do sincerely hope you guys enjoy. this yandere idea has been on my mind for the longest time ever and it took a couple writer's block to finish it. anyways please reblog and comment if you do like it so i'll have more motivation for more. quick explanation since i try to make this fic MUCH shorter than it was originally. it will be revealed more eventually in the second part of the fic, but gojo's essentially has some sort of condition where he cannot feel emotions, and all he has been perceiving is the reader's attention and how he is aware of the reader's feelings towards him. he is very fond of her but does not understand that he loves her. that's it the beautiful complex in their bond. and yes the reader receives PHYSICAL ACTIONS of how some love languages are, but also reader feels like she has been strung along because how will you do all the things love do but you CAN'T say you love me? more will be explored in part two. with much love, cyrene ♡

taglist yay <3 @cisse-daylight @dorkinit4ever @erjeno @miastoasted @bahngchansrighttoe @sunf1owxr @laviefantasie @dailydeej @lovesatxru11

[dorkinit4ever]

OMLLLL IDK I WOULD NOT GIVE UP ON THAT MAN y/n lowkey kinda weak in this one but I have hope for part two...