In which Gojo uses his Limitless to make his dick vibrate ;)
“Satoru, I’m going to kill you,” you growl. The piss of shit was sliding his cock through your slit, thoroughly coating his pink length in your juices and bumping his tip against your clit. Worse of all, he’s humming to the squelches, harmonising with them like he’s a conductor.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Pinching your nose, he coos at you. “Kill me? Oh, but then how are you going to get your much needed orgasms? Hmm? Are you just gonna walk around all grumpy? I don’t think soooo.”
BRRRRRR!
Yeah, his fucking cock was vibrating. No, the space around it was vibrating. Meanwhile, you’re left with nothing to do but choke on your own saliva, writhing and unable to move, to run away, though you try your best. How could you not when the bastard’s using his Limitless to tease your clit just to hear you cry out?
“Ugh, shut up and fuck me already!”
With a laugh, he flicks your nipple to hear you gasp before he spreads your thighs further apart, holding them for you as they quiver. “Okay okay. So bossy. Well, here I go. Welcome home, Toru.”
Inch by inch, he enters you. The two of you have been at this for a while, it’s no surprise then that he’s able to push in through your tight folds, your pulsing pleats, and gummy walls with little resistance. You throw your head back with a whine.
Satoru grunts. “Mmm, I missed you too.”
“I’ve been with you all -ngh- day.”
He shakes his head, breathless and fingers digging into your flesh. “Not you, silly. I’m talking to Little Miss Puss Puss.”
Groaning with repulsion, you shove at his firm chest. “Get off me, Satoru. You’re so annoyin—HNGH FUCK!”
The vibrations start up again with a fury. It’s relentless, tickling that sensitive spot inside you. Your back arches up into his chest, nipples scraping his skin. His jaw drops at the sensation. Without even realising it, shoves his cock deeper, a man with a mission.
“W-what was that, babe? You want me to get you off?” His grin widens until his cheeks hurt, bright blue eyes hazy. One could say he’s sadistic. Masochistic. But he can’t help it; he loves seeing all your reactions. You’re just so stinking cute. Consider Gojo Satoru a certified girlfriendholic.
Rattling your pelvis, the tremors kiss your clit from inside. A hot flood of cum rushes down his length, creating a dizzying froth that has Satoru rutting forward with a hiss. He kisses the tip of your nose, and licks it for good measure. “Well, why -hah- didn’t you say so?”
It’s going to be a long night.
Dunno if this is how Gege envisioned Limitless but until he states otherwise, all’s fair in smut and war
looks like sorcerer!sukuna's been struck by the love bug! (literally)
Seeing Satoru and Suguru holding back Sukuna wasn't exactly a new occurrence. More like a monthly inconvenience, if anything. One of them would annoy the other two, and they'd settle it with fists like the oh-so-mature men they were (if Satoru was feeling like turning his infinity off).
But them holding him back from you?
That was a first.
Sukuna was open about his...disdain for you. He would probably call it hatred. Liked to call you vapid or spoiled for being born into a decent clan with an okay technique when he had to work for his strength. You never really cared for him either - but after years of awkward avoidance after graduation and skipping attending work functions, bumping into him at all had become sparse lately.
Had he finally caught on that you were scheduling your life around ignoring him? Maybe the last few brain cells that made him semi-civilized had jumped ship?
Sukuna barred his teeth, looking more like a rabid dog than a guy who claimed fast food was beneath him.
"Get out of here," Satoru barked, and you belatedly realized it was addressed to you.
By the time you realized it, you were already too absorbed in the scene unfolding to budge. Ears perking up as you listened past Satoru pouting and shouting at Sukuna to shut up to hear what your fellow sorcerer was actually saying.
"Let go of me you fuckin' morons," he spat, like literally, a glob of it landing on Satoru's shoe while you stared at all three of them on the verge of brawling in the middle of Shoko's office, who would probably be pissed once she saw all the medical equipment scattered all over the floor. "You're just jealous of us."
Who the fuck was us?
You found out fast - and almost immediately wished you hadn't.
Suguru had only let go of him for a second or two, half-jogging over to you, saying something about you leaving, reaching out to graze his fingers across your skin, just for Sukuna to send a fucking dismantle at him.
He dodged it, dragging you out of the way while Satoru threatened to hollow purple his ass if he tried it again.
"She's mine, don't you dare put your goddamn hands on her," Sukuna hissed at him, rage simmering behind his red eyes as Suguru called him an asshole and pulled you out of the office while he was still foaming at the mouth. Over you.
"Is he talking about-" You blinked back in the hallway, looking over your shoulder in disbelief and half-expecting him to come through the wall and leave chunks of plaster everywhere.
"Yeah, you," Suguru scoffed, rolling his eyes as he continued to try and lead you down the hallway. "Been begging us to call you since he got hit by some curse. Had to stop him from blowing up the campus to get your attention."
A curse did that to him?
Or was it just years of pent-up aggression boiling over?
"He's trying to kill me?" You deadpanned, debating on going back to kick him in the dick for it while Satoru was still holding him back.
Suguru stared at you like you were stupid, dark brows knitting together before he sighed.
lol i finally feel like writing for the first time in over a week and now i have another interview to prepare for. this will be my 3rd round but i think there's still 2 more rounds after this too 😭. send me good vibes y'all this is like a dream job fr. 😩🩷
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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.
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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.
.
.
.
@BuzzFeed: Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who’s The Biggest Fanboy of Them All? Cupid’s Fandom Compare Notes on Fanboy Shrines and 35 Other Delulu Stan Happenings This Week.
(Read more on buzzfeed.com)
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Gojo Satoru had bought 67 albums.
67…heh.
Sixty-seven different copies of the very same album—yours.
Sixty-seven different copies of the latest addition in your platinum-reaching, Grammy award-winning discography: the ‘Obsession’ album.
Of course, they’re all yours. Because who else would have such banger songs that he wouldn’t mind replaying over and over again until Geto threatened to smash the damn things? Who else would have exclusive photocards so cute stuffed into the crevices of said albums, that he just had to collect them all? Who else would host a fancall event that he simply had to put a dent in his sizable bank account to win?
It was somewhat of a lottery system, and Gojo’s sure he’d funded his local record store for a few months at least with how much he’d cashed out there.
He’d been up bright n’ early on the day your album hit the stores - camping outside with a few avid others of your fandom (though, proudly, he’d been the first one there). Rushing with the rest to buy up your album, your merch, and with it…a chance to see you.
Every album bought was an entry into the raffle that’d grant them a chance to see you.
Just a few minutes of your time through the screen, and even that was like looking through the pearly gates of heaven in Gojo’s eyes. He’d dreamt about it, he’d manifested it, he’d tweeted about it so many times on his private account that everyone but Haibara had blocked him on.
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I’M 22 NOW SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT (ಥ﹏ಥ)
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: LORD KNOWS IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I believe in you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@Fushidaddy27 replying to @HiByeRawr: dont
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV replying to @Fushidaddy27: How did u even get here??
And so, the wait had dragged on with a few more accounts blocked.
Until, finally, one day Gojo had been simply scrolling through his emails as he usually did. A few updates from Canvas on his assignment grades. A few A+’s. An email from Geto with nothing but one of those old pictures from Yaga’s abstract dance classes attached. A few more A+’s. An email from the record store saying he won the fancall event. Yet another picture of Yaga-
His heart had damn near stopped.
Actually- Gojo doesn’t think he was even breathing as he hurriedly scrolled back and clicked open the email from the record store. He reads the very first word—
“Congratulations…”
And that’s all he needs to stand up and cheer-
“Shhhh—!” The cryptid-like elderly librarian, Gakuganji, shushes him from just a few tables away. A glare so intense that it makes Gojo sit back down in his seat in an instant, ducking back down to stare at his phone screen.
Heart thundering. Fingers trembling. “Oh my god…” He whispers to himself, knees bouncing underneath the mahogany table as he’s clicking on the link embedded into the email.
It takes him to the official site of your management, where the list of winners had been announced on one page dedicated especially to you. And there - right at the very top - his name.
Gojo Satoru.
Censored, yes. But he could read it well enough - it was only confirmation of what he already knew through the email.
And as Gojo tries to tame his giddy elation inside the library, he forgoes those revision papers of his to instead tap away at his phone. First, he texts his parents. Then he texts his friends. Then he emails Nanamin (also one of his friends, but the man had him blocked everywhere else…)- and just as he caught sight of that winner’s email again, Gojo squeals—
“Out of my library!”
Later, Gojo Satoru was added to the campus library Wall of Shame (and Nuisances).
But he didn’t care.
Not one single bit.
@thestrongestfanboy: About to meet my future wife- how do I look? (￣▽￣*)ゞ
Attached was a selfie of him making your signature bow-and-arrow pose a few days later.
He was well-fitted in his best dress shirt that hugged his toned waist. Cologne practically palpable through the screen. Soft white bangs tamed. Donning a silver chain. False glasses on because he heard in one of your latest interviews that you liked nerds.
Cheeks rosy.
“Bro, isn’t the call for like two minutes?” Geto grumbles from his bed on the other side of the room. Their cramped dorm was already small enough without the other pacing every inch of it in nervousness.
Gojo whips around with a snarl, “No, for your information it’s actually two and a half minutes.”
Geto squints, “Right…” Before he raises his nose into the air and sniffs—“And god- what is that awful fucking smell?”
“You don’t like it?” His best friend asks innocently, “It’s my cologne.”
“There’s no way your cologne smells like that?” The dark-haired man gapes, leaning back in his bed as he covers his nostrils with a palm.
Geto already has his answer by the way that Gojo starts to squirm. “Well…I may have also added in a bit of your cologne, too…”
“…”
“And Nanamin’s.”
“…”
“And Shoko’s-”
“What the fuck, Satoru?” Geto slaps a hand over his forehead, in the way he much seemed to do when it came to an antic that Gojo did without his consultation (he means, c’mon, if they were to be dumb fucks then they should be dumb fucks together).
But this was too far even for him.
And Geto only sighs before he’s reaching for his heavy headphones, placing the cushioned device on top of his head. “After this, we’re taking you out to touch grass, man.” He opens his phone to something and blocks out Gojo’s whining protests with it. “I’m serious.”
“And I’m serious when I say you better not fuck this up for me, Suguru.” Gojo stabs an accusing finger at his best friend, while his other hand reaches for his own phone - the scheduled time for your video call was nearing. “Keep yourself scarce when she calls me.”
“Mhm, whatever you say.”
“Because she’s my future wife-”
“Crazy story, bro.”
With Geto not even close to responsive any longer, Gojo huffs as he looks through his notifications-
@Fushidaddy31: YOURE SO CHOPPED LMFAOOOOOOOO
Nevermind.
Instead, he waits in front of his desk. Phone propped up. Earbuds plugged in. Back straight against his chair. More formal and elegant than he had in any of his other meetings or lectures before.
He turns off his notifications and opens up the app that management had directed him to through emails. Pressing on the screen record button, Gojo’s stomach turns as a staff member performs an ID check before the call.
And then it starts.
Your beautiful, beautiful face pops up on the screen.
Those eyes. That smile. The voice that says, “Hello?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Gojo’s heart drops to his stomach then takes a high-speed elevator right back up to his throat, he can feel the ba-dump! of it there. And later - years and years later - he’ll be able to cringe at the way that his naturally deep voice broke- “H-he-”
Before your face pauses.
It freezes.
And suddenly the call ends.
wait…Gojo taps on his Wi-Fi…he taps on his data…he taps on anything and everything that might make a difference. And yet, nothing ever does. Gojo immediately throws down his earphones on his desk and stands- so fast that his chair topples over—“Suguru!”
The dark-haired man jolts in his bed, turning over at the shriek with his brows scrunched in confusion. Seeing the state his best friend was in, he raises his phone as a shield. “What?”
“Don’t what me- don’t- you- you—” So enraged that he couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. Face red. Veins popping on his neck. The only way that Geto manages to even slightly discern what the other man may be talking about is by the way he points at his phone, the shared Wi-Fi router, then his phone.
Geto’s mouth drops, “Ah…” And he catches sight of the orange, blinking right on the router that told the both of them that the day’s data has been finished. He looks at his phone…with the absolutely massive update that had just completed. “In my defense, Love and Deepspace had an update-”
“Suguru, I’m going to kill you.”
Ultimately, no amount of begging or crying to attempting to throttle Geto could reverse the fact that Gojo had won a fancall…and missed it.
All because of his Wi-Fi.
“There there, man.” Geto pats his friend - draped across his bed with his face in his hands - on the back. “At least the new event loaded- it’s an idol event, and I’ll let you play it with Sylus-”
Gojo only sobs louder.
“And then after that, we’ll actually go touch grass. How about that?”
@thestrongestfanboy: Nothing beats a Jet2 holiday to HELL. @DigiGeto ur going to HELL.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Mb
@Fushidaddy32: rare aesthetic: fancall with #her n made her do the coldplay kiss cam trend with me heh
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy32: Blocked.
@Fushidaddy32 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??
@CupidOfficial: So glad to be able to talk with my lovely fans during the fancall event today!! Thank you to everyone that attended, and even those that didn’t attend heheh…I see you, and I love you <33
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@Variety: This week’s cover story:
Global Superstar Cupid: On Stardom, Surprises of Fame, and the Undying Support of her Fans (“There was actually this funny story with a fan that froze—”)
(see page 9…)
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Gojo Satoru was on cloud nine.
Gojo Satoru was in heaven.
Gojo Satoru was going to meet his wife.
Everywhere he looked, he could see that beautiful face of yours.
From the floor-to-ceiling posters against the stark white walls, to the stalls upon stalls of merchandise that featured you, to the rows upon rows of people wearing t-shirts with your face on it. Posters. Plushies. Bow-and-arrow lights. Everything that his heart could ever yearn for.
And that included you.
And no- Gojo hadn’t died and gone to heaven (evidenced by the way that no matter how many times he pinched himself, it still bruised). Don’t be silly! He was simply at a place that was rather similar, he imagines.
A fanmeet.
Where the excitement was palpable, and everyone here had arrived with the same goal in mind - to spend just a few precious moments with you in person.
In person!
Geto was the one that’d snagged him the ticket to this event, to make up for the rather tragic incident with the fan call two years ago. And so here he was, at your first-ever fanmeet in Tokyo. Gojo vibrated on the balls of his feet, and with his towering height he could make out just a few more meters until he managed to see you up-close.
He held one of his most prized possessions - your first poster from Idol Academy, the one that Ijichi had gifted him so many years ago - to his chest and sighed. In less than an hour, he’d have it signed. In less than an hour, he’d get to hold your hand.
In less than an hour, he’d get to see you.
There was a part of him that felt like it was tugging towards you already- and Gojo has to bounce himself slightly to find a way to channel the adrenaline.
It’d been quite the arduous journey to get to here, and he didn’t want to make a single mistake now - all the albums he’d bought, all the pictures from your latest fanmeets that he’d fawned over, all the stan Twitter fights.
Honestly, just today he’d gotten into it with some delusional loser online (@urmomstype) that’d been spreading rumors about you being…particularly close with the famed actor you had in your newest music video. Gojo shudders as he thinks back to it:
@urmomstype: A thread of all the PROOFS that #Cupid is dating the hottest k-drama actor right now—
Inside was some amalgamated mess of pictures of ‘shared couples items’ (half the population owned that shit, c’mon, that actor was far from special) and coded messages that apparently littered your social media. By the end of it, the user had been self-assured, a few other misogynistic antis were spouting hate, and Gojo was furious.
He’d typed away so fast that his thumbs were nothing but a blur.
@thestrongestfanboy: U call this proof?? Holy fucking airball lmao (￣ヘ￣)
@thestrongestfanboy: Bozo
@thestrongestfanboy: Ratio + L + my fav is better than ur fav
@thestrongestfanboy: She isn’t dating anyone BOZO!! Even if she was (which she isn’t) it’s none of ur business and ur a loser so go back to doing loser things. I bet ur an anti from that one other agency…凸(`△´＃)
@Fushidaddy89 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: yk for once i agree with you
@urmomstype replying to @Fushidaddy89: Why are two uncs replying to me…arguing with a minor btw.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @urmomstype: With this gift I summon-
It had lasted a few hours (and that was on the shorter end of the stick). Until, ultimately, Geto and Shoko had pulled his phone away from his face (he was defending your honor!) and reminded him that there were much more important things on the horizon.
Namely, you…
Besides, he was glad to get away from the epic highs and lows of high school football stan Twitter. He was glad not to have to fight with what was likely some middle-aged, parasocial man there over you. He was glad not to get into futile shipping wars that-
“Do you think her actor boyfriend will be here?”
An agitating, grating voice breaks through his thoughts (really, it was the squeaky voice of a child), and Gojo’s immediately whipping his head down, down, down behind him.
It was a buzzcut boy, wearing a t-shirt with your face and a pair of soft feathery wings that was sold as one of your exclusive merchandise—and yet…those angelic appendages still wasn’t enough to hide the mischief in his face.
Gojo stares at him.
And he stares at Gojo.
“You.”
“You.”
As his blonde-haired guardian looks on in slight shock, Gojo stabs an index his way- “User urmomstype?”
“User thestrongestfanboy.” He then points at himself, “But you can call me Todo Aoi.” And before the older man can begin to sputter again, he raises a small palm to silence him (and why was Gojo being silenced by what looked like an eight-year-old?) “I already know who you are, Gojo Satoru. You’re infamous inside the fandom, y’know?”
He gapes, “I am?”
“Mhm.”
Before he starts twirling the curls of white at the base of his neck, Todo stares in bewilderment as the taller man starts squirming. “So like…d’you think that means there’s a chance she’d notice me, too?”
“…”
“…”
“F-forget that-”
“You really think you can pull fine shyt?” Todo squints up at Gojo, and then down at the sheer amount of merchandise he was draped in. “You’re chopped with a negative aura that no amount of aura farming could possibly replenish, brother. Your eyes are built like a 24k labubu. If you were a meal, even Fanum wouldn’t ask for tax. Even I’d win a mid-off against you. I hate to break it to you but she’s much better off with that actor-”
“Don’t think that just because you’re speaking in brainrot terms I don’t understand you- I’m brainrotted, too.” Seething, “And they’re not even dating-”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Definitely not!”
The little boy nods, sagely. “Still got the views for the music video, didn’t I? And what did you do? Whine about how you weren’t married to her yet?”
And to that he doesn’t have much to say, “Well…”
The blonde-haired woman that’d been holding Todo back finally announces her presence, “Hi there- apologies. My name’s Yuki.” She reached out her hand, and they shook - with Gojo dazed by the absolute demolishment of his character. “I’ve warned him about his ah- ragebaiting issue…it’s a work-in-progress.”
“I-I see…” Gojo breathes, looking back at the line - just a little longer and he’d be out of here. Just a little longer and he’d get to see you—“One question, I’m not actually chopped, am I?”
As Todo whispers the definition to Yuki, she shakes her head happily. “Oh, not at all! You’re not exactly my type, but trust that you’re quite the handsome character.”
“Handsome enough to pull my wife?” At her visible confusion, he jerks his head where your figure was seated at a black-clothed table, signing posters and making conversation with your line of fans. Oh- how perfect you were.
“O-oh! Her?” A line of sweat beads at her temple, “Well, why not?”
Gojo - quite maturely - sticks his tongue out at Todo.
But the boy only replies, “You look like you wear wigs.”
Gojo self-consciously runs a hand through his soft white hair, “I-I don’t!” He did take particularly good care of his hair.
“Do you wear wigs?”
“No, I do not-”
“Have you worn wigs?”
“No, I have not-”
“Will you wear wigs?”
“…Maybe?!”
“When will you wear wigs-”
“Please!”
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to step out.” A gruff, masculine voice speaks out from beside him- and it didn’t match Todo’s probing voice. Not at all. Gojo turns his surprised head around and finds himself face-to-face with a stony-faced man.
As tall as him. Even beefier. With shades that reflected his own widened blue eyes.
His jaw drops, “Wh-what…”
The security guard gestures to Todo, and then towards the door with the ‘Exit’ sign. “For your disruption, we’re going to have to ask you to step out of the premises.” He cracks his knuckles, “Or you shall be escorted out.”
“No-” Gojo’s gasping, looking around for an answer. “No no no no- disruption? What disruption?”
“Arguments with a child-”
“That lil’ shit deserved it—” Gojo whines out, before realizing that that likely didn’t help his case. “I-I mean-” He’s gesturing to the boy that was clearly not disrupted in any sense of the word, “-look at him! He’s completely fine! In fact, I’m the one emotionally scarred.”
The other two also start to protest this course of action, and the security guard stays silent for a beat, and lets the counterargument sink in…
Before he raises his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “We’re having some resistance here, I request back-up at the front of the line.”
“No no no-” He was just a meter away - a meter. “No, wait- please no.” And by now, the other fans were starting to point and stare at him now. At the way he was panicking. At the way he was trying to inch himself closer to the signing event. At the way he was so close to you- and yet, so far, with two burly security guards that clapped their hands down on his shoulders and dragged him away by his arms.
All the way to the exit.
As you stared.
“NOOOOOOO—!”
@thestrongestfanboy: I’m gonna be honest, kitten, daddy’s about to kill himself ٩(× ×)۶
@Fushidaddy103 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i saw the video youre trending on tiktok lmaooooo
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: F in the chat
@pinkillit replying to @urmomstype: F
@hearts2hurts replying to @urmomstype: F
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @urmomstype: F
@lovelicky replying to @urmomstype: F
@CupidOfficial: Tokyo, oh Tokyo~
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TRENDING ON TIKTOK:
#Cupidfanmeet
#thatonecrazyguy
#thestrongestfanboy
#Cupiddatingrumors
#Cupidbemywife
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This was it.
This was Gojo’s last chance.
He hadn’t won a fancall since that one time (no matter how many albums he bought, the universe just wasn’t on his side), he’d been barred from your Tokyo fanmeet, he’d been known as that one delusional fanboy in your fandom.
Which was honestly fine. Gojo was fine.
He was completely and utterly fine-
“OHMYGODSUGURUI’MSOCLOSEITHINKICANSEEHERICANSEEHER-” Gojo yelled in Geto’s ear, over the roaring crowd that was most likely saying the same thing he was. He shook the man, and then proceeded to shake his other best friend standing right beside him. “YOUGUYSARETHEBESTANDILOVEYOUANDYOU’LLBETHEBESTMANANDBESTWOMANAND-”
“Not if I kill you right now.” Shoko mutters, punching Gojo right in the stomach so he’d shut up for the first time in the past few hours. She takes a puff of her cigarette, even though the stadium had a strict no smoking policy.
She needed it.
She deserved it.
Though, she supposed that there was no one to blame but herself.
It was obvious the toll that all the failed fancalls and fanmeets had taken on Gojo. And while she couldn’t quite understand the sheer ahem- delusion that came with it, she knew that this was something important to him. And Geto did, too.
Which was why, with the power of social media, the duo had reached out to that ‘urmomstype’ boy and his blonde-haired guardian. Apparently, even after Gojo had been escorted his merry way outside, the two had tried to overturn the decision, explaining that it’d all just been some silly banter and there really wasn’t anything to remove him over. ‘He might be chopped and unc, but he’s still a goat. Sorta.’ The boy had said, whatever that means…
But, alas, the security guard had been stubborn.
And so, the four - Shoko, Geto, Yuki, and Todo (yes, even Todo) - had wanted to make it up to Gojo in a different way. Despite not being able to attend the fanmeet, you still had your upcoming concert in the famous Tokyo Dome.
They’d stayed up all night on the phone trying out every connection they had to somehow get a few extra tickets.
All night.
There had to be something, right?
Until - finally, finally - Yuki managed to get in contact with Gakuganji (yes, their ol’ campus librarian), who managed to get in contact with Yaga (yes, their ol’ high school principal), who managed to get in contact with one of his other friends that knew someone on your staff team. And through a rollercoaster of contacts, they somehow managed to snag a few seats.
Front row.
Gojo had burst into tears the moment he read that pink slip of paper with your name in bold, surrounded by hearts. He’d crushed them all to him, so tight that Shoko wondered whether her bones might break, and whispered. “You guys are definitely invited to my wedding.”
And if her heart melted just a little bit then, well…she didn’t mention it.
Now, however, she’d no sooner be invited to Gojo Satoru’s funeral than his alleged wedding. To their own fortune, Yuki and Todo had been assigned places a few seats down. A weary Geto on the other side of their white-haired friend reaches his hands out towards her. “Cigarette, please.”
Shoko raises a brown brow, “You don’t even smoke?”
“I’m about to start.”
“You guuuuys—” Gojo drags on, as the opening notes of your album start to ring out on the speakers. He shoots his hands out to grab Shoko- and when she ducks, he shoots his hands out to grab Geto- and when he groans, Gojo only sways them in the air. “It’s about to start- she’s about to come on stage- oh my god, oh my god my wife’s about to come on stage-”
“She’ll be your ex-wife if you don’t calm the fuck down.” Geto can’t help but laugh. Shoko looks on in confusion as he moves in synchronization with Gojo to the first few dance moves of your routine. Geto answers her unspoken question, “What? He played it all the time in our dorm, I could recite every lyric and move in my sleep by now.”
“M-me too.” And as your silhouette starts to become projected on the screen behind you, Gojo’s starting to tear up. Large, bulbous tears of emotion.
They were both dancing in unison now.
Crying (Gojo, at least).
Shoko shakes her head with a chuckle of her own. “Idiots.”
And then you saunter your way onto stage and Shoko (as well as everyone in a five-mile radius) feels their eardrums stop working.
@thestrongestfanboy: I wasn’t just another screaming boy…I challenged her stare down…she saw me. She pointed—twice. And if u think I’m done? Let’s see if the wolf can find his prey again…good luck…(^人<)〜☆
Attached was a video taken from the concert - more girlish screaming (Gojo’s) than music, to be quite honest.
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy114: I don’t see u at the concert. L |ʘ‿ʘ)╯
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i dont see me trending on tiktok either
Gojo doesn’t even have the time to block and report Fushidaddy’s 114th account, because he’s too busy shoving his phone into his pocket and joining the screams for your encore that night. The one where you pretend to walk off, then dramatically sigh as you prance back down—
“Ah~” You’re voicing into the mic, looking at the sea of flash-lit faces around you. “Again? You lot are reeeeeally ravenous tonight, aren’t you?”
In unison, they roar. They agree.
With a faux huff, you’re placing your hand on your waist. It’s a pose infamous amongst your fandom, and they already knew what was coming up next- “Who’s got you so worked up, huh? Is it…me?” Roaring. Rumbling. Raging. You gasp, flattered. “It’s really me? Oh, now you’re just kidding—”
A furious shake of heads.
“You’re not? Well…” You smile, and it’s the type of smile that makes a flurry of star-stuck cameras go off. Basking in it, you walk oh-so-closely to the edge of the stage, where hands reach out to merely be in your presence. “That’s cute. But I still think I should arrest someone for being so naughty tonight, getting you all worked up.”
Crowds wave, volunteering themselves up to you.
You reach for your glittering belt and pull out the fluffy pink handcuffs that make them squeal, “And how aboooooout…”
Scanning the stadium.
Looking around.
Your eyes pass over the roaring head until—
“Ah! You there.” You’re pointing, your eye catching on a fluffy head of white hair. A face so handsome. So eager. “How about you? Would you like to be my arrestee tonight—?”
His deep voice sounds out, “Y-yes! Yes please-”
And as you near, the crowd grows even more restless. Like a tumultuous sea, the waves crash into each other, creating a rough tide that almost wanted to pull you in-
You blink.
And suddenly that white-haired man has disappeared.
But you’re by the edge of the stage by now, and you could feel the palms reaching for you as you try to discern just where he might be. “I uh-” You pause. Before the crowd surges forwards, and you’re thinking quickly to point out someone else. “Perhaps he isn’t so eager to be thrown in the slammer tonight-” They laugh, “-so how about you? Brown-haired girl? Would you like to be arrested by me~?”
She nods, and you proceed with your lil’ skit to ‘arrest’ her for being much too naughty.
Teasing and twirling, before you stand up and get on with the rest of your concert-
“And now—who’s ready for an encore~?”
You prance away, leaving a trail of glitter and song- and tears. Fuck, Gojo only claws himself up from the ground just as you finished your little arresting routine. The roll of the crowd had knocked him to the ground, and Shoko looks at her sad lil’ best friend.
She raises the handcuffs on her wrists, “Help me get out of these and you can have them, Satoru-”
“No, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Gojo straightens himself up, and Shoko’s shocked to find that he shakes his head in rejection.
“Satoru, are you okay?” Geto asks, warily.
“Yeah-” He sighs. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Something hollow in his breath. Something hollow in his heart, as he watches you slip away.
One.
More.
Time.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play Chasing Pavements by Adele
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: but you good bro??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy117: No bro
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i feel you bro
@CupidOfficial: White hair. White stars…
That night, while Gojo had tossed and turned himself into a fitful sleep, his phone buzzed with yet another notification.
One that he had to blink his eyes at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, one that he had to pinch himself at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
DIRECT MESSAGES for @thestrongestfanboy.
@CupidOfficial: You’re the white-haired boy from tonight, aren’t you?
@CupidOfficial: Sorry if this is forward of me, I’ve just seen you around quite a bit…on my timeline, at the fanmeet…
@CupidOfficial: I just wanted to ask whether you’d want to model for the cover of my upcoming album?
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@pannchoa: Rumors swirl of Cupid’s upcoming album! Dispatch hints and industry whispers - read the full EXCLUSIVE from her producer right here.
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First thing’s first, you had Gojo Satoru sit on the couch of your penthouse accommodation. Talking through the details of your secretive upcoming album, and how the aesthetic you were going for fit his dazzling looks perfectly.
Second thing’s second, you had him seated on your king-sized bed. Still babbling about your album- at least, he was. Though the both of you knew that it was something else entirely on your minds.
Third thing’s third, he was sprawled out on said mattress. You straddlin’ his handsome face like a perch. His puffy, pinkish lips glued to your cunt—
“Mmpf- mmmm…” Gojo’s groaning over the most lecherous squelches that you’ve heard in your entire life. They’re echoing out like one of your sweetest songs, in sloppy staccato with the rovering movements of his tongue.
Gojo Satoru was eating you out like he was ravenous.
Famished.
Grabbing ahold of each side of your ass cheeks, he’s dragging you back down onto his gaping maw each n’ every time you flinched away with a whine, letting his tongue slash deeply into your drivelling orifice. “Mmm- hck!” Gojo’s so sloshed on your syrupy pussy that he’s finding himself hiccuping, eyes rolling all the way to the back of his head once your sap trickles out with a splash! Straight into the back of his throat, “Ohhhhh, my sweet girl-”
“Now now-” With a shiver, one of your hands slithers down to tug on Gojo’s clammy white locks. Almost as if to pull him away- but that only makes him nudge his lips closer to your hole with a keen. “Make sure you remember to- haaah, breathe, Gojo-”
“Sa-Satoru-” He whispers this out directly against your quivering cunt, and the vibrations make your back arch perfectly. Looking up at you through his pale lashes, fluttering. “Please call me, Satoru…”
Just the tip of his tongue that reels back out to fuck back in-
“-ma’am.”
“O-oh—” You’re moaning out at the way that his thick muscle pierces you - not only was Gojo an avid talker, but he had the tongue to back that up, too. So strong. So lengthy. He’s stirrin’ his tongue around and around in circular motions to graze those ridged tastebuds of his into each tiny nook n’ cranny.
Pulling onto his sweaty bangs and that only seems to make him go even harder- “S’that what you want me to call you?” You’re managing out, looking down at him- and that seems to make him jolt at the sheer intensity. “You want me to call you…”
You teasingly trail off, and Gojo only seems to buck—his hips coming up to make your vast bed creek. Chin spankin’ against the edge of your cunt when he yearns even closer, “Yes? Yes?”
“Oh? Was I supposed to- hck! finish something?” Pretending to not know exactly what he wanted, and it frankly made you even wetter to see the way that the tips of Gojo’s ears burn bright red at being caught.
“You know what I want baby- you know-” Sputtering out scorching hot breaths against your hole, before you know it- Gojo has one of his hands looped ‘round your thigh. The flat of his right thumb rubbin’ up and down your clit, “You kn-know what I want- and this pretty pussy does, too.”
Just the sultry sensation of him toying with your nub makes you gasp and buck. With your head thrown back, he’s taking every forceful bounce.
With such immense pleasure, Gojo’s letting his entire pretty face get ridden. The seeping hot core of your cunt plasters from the tip of his nose, down, down, down to grind your clit on the point of his chin. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Timing your gyrations just right, Gojo purses his lips and he spits- “She’s just so wet, my light.” Creating a slippery puddle that lets him slither his tongue into you even faster, “Soooo fucking wet. Sooo fuh-fucking loud, might even be louder than you on stage- and she’s honest, too.”
You’re raising a brow in challenge, raising his blushing head from between your legs to simply ask. “And just wh-what is ‘she’ honest about?”
There’s another dangling line of saliva spat on top of your pussylips, and the edge of Gojo’s thumb presses each wad inside. You shiver - and so does your core. “She knows she loves me—she knows she wants to call me ‘Satoru’, doesn’t she?”
Oh.
You simply shiver- you don’t even have an answer, and Gojo doesn’t expect you to have one. With sensual movements, the plush part of his lower lip drag-drag-draaaaags down the front of your cunt.
He’s pulling his tongue back, just lightly tapping it on top of your shaky orifice—“Hey…” You’re grumbling out, when his teasing motions are lingering for just too long. You tug on his hair, and that seems to make him groan in ecstacy - the happiness of being used. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”
“Why? Does she miss me?” Gojo prattles away - not to you, but to your dripping wet cunt. Almost as if to prove his point, just the spit-covered edge of his tastebuds slither close to your hole. And it makes you clench—
Around nothing, because Gojo’s pulling away in an instant.
He never imagined how fun it would be to tease you.
His pretty, swollen lips turning up into a dirty grin. “Ohhh, don’t you worry, my light.” And the crown of his thumb rolls over your clit a few more times, “I already know that she misses the feeling of my tongue fucking ‘er-” And just as you wanted (because he could never leaving you longing for too long) Gojo’s tongue starts moving in, sinking. “Already know she wants to be f-filled up like no other could, already know every word to your songs- every lyric- every syllable. Already know you’re gonna feel my tongue between your legs- and you’re going to call me—”
You breathe, “Yes?”
And he’s almost pleading. “Your good boy?”
“Well…” You twist your fingers harshly into his silken white hair, and it makes Gojo moan. Slightly shoving him where you wanted him the most- “-then shut the fuck up n’ prove it to me, Satoru.”
And that’s all he wanted.
That’s all he needed. For now.
Until you’re calling him your ‘good boy’ exactly like that dark, carnal part of him wanted you to—Gojo’s grunting at the shock of his first name leaving your pretty lips, in that sing-song voice of yours.
A sudden lurch that makes him shove his clammy head between your legs once more. He’s glued to the sheeny inner parts of your thighs, roughly gluing his mouth over your glazed pussylips.
“Oh- oh…” Heavy pants leave your mouth, and your chest heaves each time Gojo’s probin’ not only his prolonged tongue inside you- but also his slender fingers. “You’re really trying to prove it t’me-”
They were just so long. The curvaceous tips of his digits deliciously curving into your tenderest spots- he glides them perfectly along your walls. Fitting the ridges of his middle and ring fingers against your g-spot.
Thoroughly. You could feel the way that Gojo was grinning against your cunt folds as he feels your cute walls clamp down ‘round his touch- “I found that spot, my light. It feels sooooo gooood having my fingers all up in there, hm? Can you feel me right there-”
“Y-yes-” Fuck, he was circlin’ the padded tips of his fingers and that made you fall upon the bed. You clap a hand down on that mahogany headboard of yours and use it to keep yourself moving- “Fuck, it feels so good.”
“Then don’t you think I deserve it…” He’s pouting, plush mouth now pulling back to clamp down your clit, too. And not only was he suckin’ on that nub, he was biting down, too. “M’your number one fan.”
“Mhm—fuh-fuck.” Your head falls back when he’s pressing his lips together and draaaaagging the fleshy top of your clit backwards. Just stretching. Just itching this carnal itch.
When you’re distracted by the white-hot pleasure that bursts behind your lids at the feeling, Gojo’s easily managing to sneak in yet another finger. A third one that pummels your bruising g-spot just as hard. “Can recite your every lyric. Every fanchant.” The hot crevice of his mouth moves rapidly against your core.
Furiously.
He’s drawing out a saucy pattern with his tongue, one that you’re only later realizing are the strokes to spelling out your stage name.
C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D.
Gojo’s hot tastebuds salivate right down your front, pressing on your clit until you see sparks behind your eyes. “See- see?” There’s an almost crazed look in Gojo’s peripherals, rolling until they were almost nothing but pure white as you clench down on him roughly - and you start to wonder just what you have released. “See, m’your biggest fan- hck! M’your good boy, and this pretty pussy knows it.” He almost sounds pathetic begging between your legs, drooling, drunken. “And- and that’s not all-”
“Satoru, what do you mean that’s not…” Your sentence slowly dissolves in your throat, and with every push of his slimy tongue, you’re realizing just what he’s talking about.
Because instead of the curving ‘C’ that meant he was spelling out your stage name, Gojo was slashing something out. Long, hard lines that edged you closer towards your bliss—
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
“Mmm, you really are my biggest fuh-fan.” You’re somehow managing out, and the only thing you can do right now is grab ahold of Gojo’s hair and let him lavish you with his mouth. “You really love me, Toru?” And you feel him jolt at that cute nickname- “Or do you love my pussy?”
“Both. Both.” Fingers spearheading you so fast at this point that the skin ‘round his mountainous knuckles turns red. Stinging red. Needy red. Just like the strawberry shade of his overworked lips-
Plap! after plap!
And you’re not sure if the sounds are from the way you’re riding his handsome face, or the impact of him banging his fingertips into your deepest insides. “Both both both- fuck, I wanna have you drippin’ down my tongue for forever, my light. Could have you squeezin’ around me like this for ages, mmm, m’fucking obsessed.”
“A reference to my- haaah, to my album?” You question, and you were just so close. You were just so rapidly nudging yourself closer on top of him like this- “But what if you can’t breathe, Toru?”
“I don’t need to-” To which Gojo only grips the side of your ass with his free hand, tugging you down. Jolting you atop him. Manhandling you down further. He scrapes his swabbing fingers even further down your walls, past the spot of your bundle of nerves. “I don’t need to at all. Hah- I don’t need to breathe if I can have you like th-this…”
Your mouth dries of a response, because just then, he’s changing up the pattern of his sizzlin’ tastebuds again.
Long, luscious strokes.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
Your eyes snap wide open, and you’re gasping at the realization of what exactly he was spelling out. “O-oh…” Chin slathering with a waterfall of your spittle, you’re just holding onto him for dear life at his vulgar kisses. “Satoru, I think m’gonna c-cum—”
And you’ve had voice training before, you’ve been used to keeping your voice steady even in the most pressurized of environments- but just then, your tone cracks as you heave your sultry body forwards and cum.
Hot, glistening waves of bliss.
A heat that takes over your body, from your scalp to your toes.
Again and again.
Slight tears prick behind your eyelids as you let Gojo fuck you through your high with his tongue, “Fuck- fuck, you made me cum-” Somehow pinpointing each peak of your orgasm to stick his fingers in for. Thud, thud, thud. “-and I didn’t even expect it.”
“Mmmm—” And you don’t know who was more gone on the fact that you were cumming like this, you or him. Because Gojo was lappin’ away with his thick tongue, slurping. “Tastes so sweet, my light. S’like sugar on my tongue…”
“Oh, you really are pussydrunk.” You whisper, and let his face move back and forth to elongate your euphoria. “Keep going, Toru—h-hah, keep going.”
“Anything for you, ma’am.”
How he loved the way you soaked yourself just a lil’ wetter at the sound of him saying that particular title. How he loved the way you’d flinch and tremble on top of him when he licked you from the tip of your clit and down to the end of your cunt. How he loved the way your high bated to nothing but mere tingles, and you shivered sensitively when he still kept going.
“My orgasm’s over now, Toru—” You hiccup, your tears starting to spill. “You were such a…good boy.”
And that’s when Gojo jolts, his entire body running with a shockwave that made itself obvious even to you. Curiously, you’re peering behind him- before he’s drawing your attention back to the front with a few more plunging pushes of his tongue. “Mmmm, m’your good boy. Your good boy- your good boy.”
G-O-O-D-B-O-Y.
“Mhm—” And when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to wrench himself away anytime soon, you’re bawling. “Fuck- fuck, Satoru m’so sensitive.”
“M’sorry, my light, I just can’t seem to-” Somehow managing to pant through his thorough pushes, it was honestly a wonder that he could even find the time to breathe at this point- with the way he was glued to your puckered pussy. Mouthing out what felt like the most popular lyrics to your songs at this point- “-can’t even seem to stop. It’s like I’m…almost like I’m-”
You flinch when he spits once more, the wad oozing down your slit.
“-addicted.”
You take a goood, long look at Gojo: puffy eyes, bleary vision, his mouth all puffy and raw around your cunt. Nearly every inch of his face was covered in a sappy layer of your slick, and it dripped down to drench your pillow beneath. Like a puddle.
Your cup your hand down from his hair n’ to his cheek, and Gojo practically melts at the touch. You had the distinct thought that if he were a cat, he’d be purring. “But Toru-” Jutting your bottom lip out for emphasis, “I want to give you the same, you know what I mean? S’that alright.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you could step on me and I’d thank you.” He says, before wrenching off of your swollen pussylips with a wettened plop!
A loud, dramatic mwah!
It makes your heart race, and something in Gojo’s tightened trousers twitch. Eagerly, you’re shuffling yourself off of him and sitting on one end of the bed.
Earlier, Gojo had simply ripped off your skirt and panties off- and his flooded mouth drops further with every item of clothing you’re taking off. Until you were completely exposed, and you’re directing him with a finger to do the very same.
“Yes, ma’am-” There’s absolutely no hesitation before his t-shirt (with, tastefully, your face on it as part of your merchandise) comes off. And you’re absolutely shocked- because Gojo wasn’t the trim, lanky figure that you’d expected him to be.
Instead, he was built.
Well-chiselled pecs that made you ache to touch them, leading down with a deep valley to the muscles of his washboard abs. Almost like a ladder. They were decorated only with a few beauty spots, and a line of sparse white hair that led down, down, down.
Gojo’s beefy biceps flex as he then tugs down on the hemline of his pants and boxers, revealing—oh.
He flushes at the intensity of your stare, “Wh-what?” Almost squirming, he just felt so shy by the way his idol was looking at him like you just wanted to tear him apart. Sensually. “Is something not-”
“You’re just so big, Satoru.” You gasp, your eyes never straying from him.
Naturally, your hand reaches out to grab the ninth of his loooong inches, thick and hot in your hold. Glistening with need. His tight balls clenching. He was so hard that every pulsation was visible even from here.
A few veins decorated his shaft, and he was so reddened at the tip, n’ dripped down a stream of milky precum just at the feeling of your palm on him.
Slowly - ever-so-slowly - you start to lower your head…
“Oh.” Gojo pants out a scalding breath. “And that is…good?”
“It’s perfect.”
Gojo’s watching you through partly-cracked eyelids, feeling so hypnotized by the sight of you below him. He raises himself slightly on his haunches with a hiss, the hot air from your mouth kissin’ his tip—it almost- it almost reminded him of the way you’d lean in so close with your microphone.
Lips so soft.
Tongue so talented.
Just gently pressing—
And that’s when Gojo chokes back a needy cry and cums- straight down the front of your pretty, pretty face. In a split-second, you have your tongue filthily dangling out to catch the wads of seed that he was pouring out.
Splat after splat that ended up emptying on your tastebuds.
He’s bucking to let his shaft glissade just further down your tongue- and the mere plush feeling of him only makes his geysering divot spill out more generously.
“Fuck-” Gojo scrunches his azure eyes, head fighting not to throw back and miss a second of the sinful sight below. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I can’t believe I’m…this is all your fault, sweetheart, ngh.” And his abs flex as he starts up a lil’ half-rut to fuck himself through his wave of bliss.
“Mmm—” You’re savoring the salted caramel taste of him, something so sweet about him. Amused, you raise a brow. “I barely even put my mouth on you, and you’re cumming already?”
He’s raising his hands to his blushing face, peeking out through his fingers. “Actually…it’s the second time tonight m’cumming, my light.” As you raise your brows in slight surprise, and flick your eyes to the drenched mess of his boxers. “The haaaah—the first time was when you- you called me your ‘good boy’.”
“Oh.”
Cumming just from eating you out? Now that really made your cunt throb with torturous need, and you’re sliding a hand between your legs to feel for the wetness there.
“Well, then-” A beautiful grin graces your face, and it’s enough to make Gojo’s swollen cock twitch. “-guess you have one more to make up t’me if you’re such a, mm, good boy, huh?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
Before you know it, you’re being splayed out with your back against the bed. The mattress slightly dips as Gojo hovers his muscular weight above you, and he’s gently pushin’ apart your legs, sweat beading on his forehead as he takes in your dripping wet core.
You swear you catch his mouth watering at the sight- “No need to be nervous, Toru. Have you ever done this before?”
He shakes his head, “No, it- it was actually my first time eating you out, too.” Peering up at you with teary eyes, “Did I do good?”
Did he do good?
If that was his first time, you didn’t know what would happen with his second, his third, his tenth. And you’re snapping yourself forcefully out of that little reverie, “Yes- fuck, yes you did so good. Was such a good boy for me.” He grunts, something ruined in it. “Now I need you to be a good boy f’me again, okay? C’mon- put my legs on your shoulder—yeeeees, just like that.”
His muscles shifted underneath your heels, he was just so hulking.
“Now bend, Toru-”
“Bend?”
“Bend.”
And Gojo wanted to prove himself to you, just like before. He wanted to do his very best for you, you, you and only you - even if that meant…manhandling his one and only idol, just a little.
With a primal lurch, Gojo then has your knees pushed all the way up to your tits. “Like this?” Your body bent completely in half, like a lawn chair. “Like this?” And his hips slotting between your legs- in this mean mating press, Gojo’s furious cock stuffs juuuuuust inside- “Like- like-”
Before he’s slouching his head forwards and pushing—
“Fuck-” Gojo’s canines try to sink into his lower lip, before he’s realizing that that won’t hold back his gruff noises and he’s simply keening. Carnal. Baritone.
A thin line of drool starts to splash from the side of his maw, before his entire body bows inwards to yours. Like he was focusing each n’ every ounce of strength into pryin’ aside your swollen folds and squeeeeezing his round, girthy tip inside. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” And then you clench and you can hear the exact moment that the sensation pangs through Gojo’s body, “I think m’gonna cum again- fuck, m’gonna cum again just from this.”
“If you do then I want it allll inside-” You say, looking up into his attractive face - so unintentionally sexy. Gojo was flushing. Rabidly slobbering. His dick aching.
He was so hard that you could feel the prominent outline of each vein, scraping your insides as Gojo tries to push past the slight resistance of your entrance and buck and buck- “Don’t- oh.” He could barely even echo out a coherent thought with your wet pussy wrapped ‘round him like this. “Don’t- fuckin’- talk like that- s’only gonna make it, ngh, worse.”
“But I thought you were my good boy?”
“Fuh-fuck.” Gojo hollows out, with a clouded breath that made it seem as though every ounce of sanity was leaving his body along with it. And at that very second, you feel him spurt out just a single pearly white bead of cum.
It splats! down at the back of your pussy, and makes you shiver at the feeling. Meanwhile, Gojo’s forced to lurch up one of his fists and gnaw down on it to control himself. “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing t’me.” The blood vessels at his neck and temples pop as he somehow stops his dribbling cock from flooding your insides any further. “Didn’t know how fuck- fucking mean ya are, my light.”
“What can I say?” You hum, your hamstrings all sore with the intrusion that was being lodged in your lower half. “You were the criminal that got away- ngh, at my concert.”
“Mhm—?” Still rutting. Just animalistic half-ruts.
“And I want you to fuck me filthily, Toru.”
Oh…at this confession of yours, he grows even bigger inside of your tight channel. The girth of Gojo’s cock swells up, and his sheer length pushes apart your walls, molding them to him-
“Oh- oh my…” There was still a light sheen of your slick on Gojo’s face that he hadn’t been able to greedily lap away, and it’s then - mid-sentence - that you choose to lean yourself closer to him and get a taste.
To which Gojo’s hazed blue eyes snap open- and oh, the look in them makes your legs tighten. Makes them fail- he’s snapping them open in a singular fluid motion, uncaring of the way it exhausts your muscles. Uncaring of the snug stretch-stretch-streeeeetch of your cunt once he’s mazing himself inside. “-my light.” Gojo bites out, “I’ll give you anything you need…”
Just then, your ears ring with a sharp clap!
You’re wondering whether it’s your ears.
You’re wondering whether it’s your heartbeat.
You’re left wondering no longer when you register it’s the slamming impact of Gojo’s toned v-line snapping against your lower half. Bottoming out in one motion, he’s deeply probin’ his rotund tip into the back of your treacly pussy.
Bottoming out? Already?
“And that includes fucking you like the slut you want to be fucked as.”
Oh.
Oh.
It seems that perhaps you’ve broken him.
Because then Gojo’s pounding his rough, ravenous hips into you all the way until his white happy trail scrapes your clit, and the end of his shaft reaches for the back of your throat.
“What the fuck…” He stops as he feels the tender end of your pussy - teary eyes widening. And the first thing out of his mouth is, “Is this real?” In utter, feral disbelief. “There’s no way this is…” Before Gojo’s pinching himself.
He bottoms out a few more times, and each time the look in his eyes grows more distant. Jaw dropping further and further with the pure ecstacy of having his painfully-hard erection surrounded by your soft warmth. “Are you- hck! are you holding up, Toru?”
“Holding up? Holding up?” He almost cackles- octaves higher, almost crazed. He turns to you, “Pinch me.”
“What-”
“Pinch me.”
And so you do - right on the strawberry nubs of his nipples, where he was just so sensitive. Only when the painfully lewd sensation confirms it’s real does he start formulating his sloppy cadence, “Fuck! It doesn’t fucking feel r-real. It can feel like this, sweetheart?” He was rutting his hips impatiently into you like he was trying to fuck the answer out of you. Each n’ every loooong, winding vein glissading down your walls. “N-ngh, she feels like heaven ‘round my cock.”
“Oh yeah—?” Purposefully, you clench. “Like that, Satoru?”
He simply shivers, “Y-yes.” You can feel him thumpin’ away at the goopy back of your pussy, with his circular divot creaming out in pre. “She’s sucking up every inch of me- fuck, huggin’ me so tight. Bet she can feel my veins reeeeeal good, can’t she?” A few slurps as he sloppy fucks his way in, which he takes as an answer. “Mhm, she can.”
And you only clench harder-
“Oh.” He whimpers, “Have mercy.”
“I dunno…” You drag out from the back of your throat, and you have to curl your toes to stop the pleasure from overflowing and interrupting your sentences. “You didn’t have mercy when you ate me out earlier, did you?”
Gojo gasps-
“And when you screamed at my concert, and when you disrupted my fanmeet.” You’re quite enjoying watching him fall apart - head hung, hips stuttering as he struggles to hold himself back. You wonder just what might happen if you made this handsome virgin Gojo…break. “So why should I show you- ngh, mercy?”
“Please- oh, what are you—”
Whatever Gojo was going to say is immediately derailed by the casual way you’re hiking up a hand to your stomach. Pressing dooooown just as his throbbing length was sinking in, “Filthier, Toru.”
And that’s when something in your favorite fanboy - in Gojo Satoru - snaps.
That’s when your positions shift.
His sap dribbles down n’ overflows just like the way your steaming tastebuds do, and your teeth clench after every one of his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Just like you’d said, he was thwacking his aching hot cock into you so hard that the curve of his ballsack was swatting your cunt. Slowly, you’re growing more and more hypnotized by his roverin’ dick stuffing every ounce inside you full. “Just like that- hah-” Arms wobbling, you struggle to reach ‘round Gojo’s shoulders. “Oh- just like that-”
“Just like that?” He asks, oh-so-kindly. And you almost feel a glimmer of hope for your poor body when Gojo gently tugs your arms around his shoulders. Letting you grab onto his deltoids-
“But I don’t think s’filthy enough, my light.”
Oh…so you were mistaken.
“Filthier, you said?” He repeats your words from earlier, fully channeling his energy to swabbin’ every point of your cunt. Gojo feels your legs slipping, and he’s reaching a hand behind his neck to pin your ankles together - locking them in place. “Look-” Other hand thumbing between your puffy pussylips, “Look, she wants it harder- faster, too. She’s practically flooding out and begging for it.”
“Oh my god-” Your pillow is drenched in a layer of your spittle by now, and your back arches. “Keep- keep going.”
“Keep going? But I wanna go even filthier, sweetheart.” That familiar pout of his makes an appearance, though there was something much more…sleazy about it this time.
Your nails dig into the plush mountains of his muscles, shifting underneath your touch each time he’s reeling his body back. Back, back, back. Gojo was putting his entire frame to work - not just his hips - each time he’s shovelling his cock into you.
And the extra pressure makes the rounded crown of his shaft embed deep into your cervix, leaving a bruise there that acts as the perfect target for the next slam. And the next. And the next. “Please-” You’re gasping out, sobs bubbling in your throat. “Please please please- please, and how are you gonna be even filthier?”
“Like this.” Just to prove his point, his free hand tilts open your chin and spits straight in your mouth. And without wasting a second longer, Gojo spanks that very hand back down on your hips to keep you from running. “Aaaand—”
Instead, he’s using his strength to pliably jerk you back down. Hissing between your parted lips, “Like this.” He’s bubbling up even more saliva- this time, down your slippery slit. That hand of his on your hip reaches over, and with the forefront curve of his thumb, Gojo’s smearin’ the wad of saliva on top of your pussy. Pressing down on your clit- “Because m’just your pathetic fanboy, my light, listening to- ngh, every word you say. So when you say filthy, m’only gonna go filthier.”
You almost don’t want to dare to ask, “And h-how will you make this…even filthier?”
But you knew he wanted you to.
You knew he was just dying to fuck the words out of you.
Gojo’s plastering a sleazy smirk across his face, and it damn near looks downright blasphemous with the layer of syrup on his features. “I h-have an idea or two…”
He’s not telling you what the idea is, he’s showing it to you - with his fingers twisting on top of your clit to spell out some of the very words he’d spelled out with his tongue earlier.
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
Furiously, your body thrashes at the mercy of his clutches. Gojo was holding you down ruthlessly, a mean expression taking over his face when he finds out that he can simply pin you down and make that glistening hole of yours take it.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
All those zaps of pleasure that you loved so much, that you were moaning so much at. You’re so cockdrunken by this point that spittle sloshes ‘round inside your mouth- and Gojo only leans over to lick off the drivels of it escaping your mouth.
<3
Just in time to crash his lips into your when you cum.
“C-cumming.” You’re gasping out, almost in disbelief at the sheer strength of the orgasm that was flooding your entire body. Bucking back into his thrusts, “So much- it’s- it’s so much, fuck.”
“Yes-” Gojo growls, slightly breathless at the fact that this was you—and you were cumming ‘round his cock, suctioning every tender ridge on his shaft, fully fucking yourself through the complete waves of your high.
Bliss upon euphoria.
If you thought that your orgasm was incredible earlier, then you weren’t ready for this one. It simply takes over every part of you, until it felt like your nerves were fried with the sensation.
He stops pinning you down any longer, letting you bounce your hips back into his to your heart’s content. “That’s right, use me.” Gojo’s fingers are but a blur on your clit, “Use me to ride your high- fuck, use me as much as sh-she wants. Let me feel every inch of you squeezin’ around me-”
“I can’t be the only one.” Despite the pangs of your bliss, you somehow manage to blink away your tears to gaze up at him. With a hand fisted in Gojo’s perspired hair, you’re pulling him in reeeeal close, “Want you to cum insi- oh, fuck.”
You don’t even have to finish your sentence.
You don’t even have to finish your thought.
Because the moment that Gojo realizes what you’re trying to say to him, the bawling divot at the end of his shaft pours out white-hot cum. Heard throwing back. Chiselled body bowing into yours. Voice straining with a call of your name.
It’s just the creamiest texture, it polishes a layer of white on your cervix and along your walls until the syrup froths outside.
Gasping, Gojo brushes his thumb between your folds and plugs up your leaking hole. Overspilling. So many webbed layers were seeping out of you, and he was taking the time to push every ounce of it back inside- “Fuck.” He whispers, thickly. “Fucking hell.”
“S’all inside, Satoru.” You mewl, gliding your hand up and down your front. “I can feel it splashin’ around inside-”
“Don’t say that- don’t- fucking say that-” He just barely chokes out- before one of Gojo’s hands lets go of your ankles to actually squeeze that pretty neck of yours, so perfect in his grip. “Don’t say that or m’gonna…”
“Or what?”
“Or m’gonna cum again-”
“Can feel it alllllll up inside.” You continue, despite the lecherous tightening at your throat. And Gojo has to listen on in pure agony as that voice he loves so much continues on—“Honestly- at this rate, you might just get me- ngh, pregnant, Toru.”
And that does it- he’s splurging out his dewy wet wads all over again. It seeps a layer of white into your glossy insides, making every thrust of his slippery.
With a slight whimper, he doesn’t waste time fucking those droplets of cum inside even if it aches him with sensitivity. The reddened tip of his cock twitches, and Gojo’s balls nuzzle the forefront of your cunt, already sucked dry with nothing more to give-
“You kn-know-” When Gojo speaks, it almost sounds like he’s crying- oh. Something hot and wet drips from his eyes, he actually was crying in overstimulation.
The texture of your cunt leaving him red n’ raw, but even then he’s way too addicted to try and bring himself to stop. Moaning, “-I did say something about you st-stepping on me, my light.”
Your brows raise.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
.
.
.
It’s almost a year later when Gojo posts:
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.
@Fushidaddy1008 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmfao as if anyone would bang you
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1008: Ahhh, my wife would bang me~! ＼(≧▽≦)／ Also blocked (*≧ω≦*)
@Fushidaddy1009 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: wife?? lmfao i thought Cupid was your wife?? youre saying you banged Cupid??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1009: Exactly~! Blocked (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
@thestrongestfanboy: I would let her step on me (and HAVEEEEE) <(￣︶￣)>
@thestrongestfanboy: Does anyone have that meme of the guy shooting a basketball from the moon and actually making the basket???
@thestrongestfanboy: I’M IN LOVE.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro do you gen need your meds or…
@Shokomedical replying to @DigiGeto: I’ve prescribed all he needs, idk how but it’s gotten worse since that concert last year.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Happy for you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@thestrongestfanboy: MY BEAUTIFUL WIIIIIIFE~! ٩(♡ε♡)۶
And then came the disaster, perhaps. Because he’d meant to attach a completely innocent picture of you from your last show, he’d meant to post something that would have been inconspicuous with everything else that your fansites were posting.
But this is Gojo - and that’s obviously not what happened.
Attached to that aforementioned tweet was a picture of none other than Gojo Satou and you. Not from a concert. Not from afar. In the flesh, in nothing but a soft blanket covering your most intimate parts, clearly bitten all over and sex-hazed.
You were raising a digital camera up, your smile peaking through its edge as if you were taking a picture of a picture. And Gojo himself was in the corner - bitten, marked, a dopey smile and just as ruined, as sex-rumpled as you were, shirtless.
The first night.
How damning.
In the split-second that the photo had been up, it spread across stan Twitter like wildfire. And all of Gojo’s subsequent tweets had upwards of 1M+ views just because of it.
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DIVA DOWN DIVA DOWN
@thestrongestfanboy: I DIDN’T MEAN TO POST THAT PLEASE FORGET ABOUT IT.
@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro actually….did it? The fanboy actually did what every delulu stan hopes to do??
@gggggnarly replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU HOOKED UP WITH QUEEN CUPID?!
@hearts2hurts replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I fear I, again, can’t send hate because this is impressive ngl.
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i know this is a marketing stunt i just cant prove it (uta give me a chance pls)
@lovelicky replying to @thestrongestfanboy: PARASOCIALISM WORKED??
@yuuthebaddie replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU GOT THE HUZZ??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I GOT THE HUZZ!! („ಡωಡ„)
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DELETE-
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Satoru what the fuck
@Shokomedical replying to @thestrongestfanboy: SATORU WHAT THE FUCK
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I always knew the day would come!! Congratulations, Gojo-senpai ^.^
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: What did I miss?? Do I need to make a new thread??
@Fushidaddy2067 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: thats it siri play chasing pavements.
And that’s when it spreads outside of your fandom, first to the celebrity news outlets, and then everyone else. Soon enough, BuzzFeed, TMZ, Pannchoa were all tripping over themselves to be the first to report and interview on the subject. Personally, you knew that Dispatch was foaming at the mouth to drop the annual bombshell with all the sordid details.
TRENDING ON TWITTER:
#CUPIDPICTURE
#CUPIDDATING
#THESTRONGESTFANBOY
#DELULUISTHETRULULU
#HEGOTTHEHUZZ??
#LFORFUSHIDADDY
@CupidManagement: As a company, we do not interfere in the private lives of our artists and we kindly ask everyone to stop spreading any malicious rumors. We wish all the best to Cupid, and her relationship going forward.
And you?
@CupidOfficial: Ahhh might be as great a time as ever to announce that my new album, Stargirl, will be out on all platforms November 28th!! Here’s the cover art, hope you love it (and a special thank you to the special boy that made it happen) <33
On the cover, a picture of Gojo.
Not as you’d seen him in the bedroom, of course. It’d been exciting work to get to the studio, to don him in the most ethereal flowy whites, to place him in the midst of a blank background and stud his hair with roses, to bathe him in a dreamy light. It was almost hazy. In the picture, his face was turned away but he was staring into the camera- and…perhaps past it.
Right where you’d been, directing him.
With such a loving glimmering in his eyes that it made one almost shy to directly at it.
Your vision had some to life.
It quickly racks up a comfortable million plus views on Twitter, and you quietly shut off your phone as the notifications keep beeping. Instead, snuggling up to Gojo right back in your penthouse, right beside you (not before you give him a lecture on double-checking the pictures he posts, of course.)
synopsis: your on-and-off again relationship with the current wdc has been the talk of the grid since you started writing songs about him - blissfully unaware he's the bane of another driver's existence. suguru geto has spent the past three years wishing for what ryomen sukuna already has. who will come home with the trophy this year? and more importantly, who will come home with you?
pairing: mercedes driver!Geto x singer!Reader x redbull driver!Sukuna
content: mdni, smut + angst, f1 au, but minimal f1 knowledge needed to understand, obligatory not based on real people blah blah, HEAVY PINING AND YEARING!!, multiple povs, so much jealousy, oral sex (f! receiving), finger sucking, casual hookups, situationships, reader being messy already, suguru wants us so bad lmfao
"I'm fuckin' starving."
Greedy hands gripped your hips, dragging you down to meet the warm mouth murmuring filthy things between your thighs. His tongue lapping up your slick, diving in for a proper taste as he groaned your name into the pussy he loved to call pretty.
Tethering your fingers in his still slightly sweaty hair, tugging hard and throwing your head back as you tried to drown the voice of reason in your pleasure.
You were probably the poster girl for poor decisions.
Why else would you be spending yet another evening sitting on top of a man who was by no means your boyfriend instead of actually getting work done in the studio for your next album?
Inspiration?
That was what you told your manager. You told your friends you only came for closure, like they hadn't heard that shit a thousand times before. Signed autographs for the fans and said it was just for the love of the sport when you were caught watching him race.
It wasn't because you loved him.
Sukuna would never let you anyway.
This was purely physical. Mostly.
He was your muse and you were his...something.
One of his rough hands dragged over your body, making a pit stop to squeeze one of your tits before he was stuffing two of those thick digits of his in your mouth to muffle your moan.
You sucked hard on them, feeling his knuckles press against your teeth, thighs shifting down to force his tongue deeper inside you. He made some gutteral sound, deep from his throat eating you out like it was the best thing he had all week.
It probably was considering the first round of the races were this weekend - and he'd be spending the next few days swept up in the whirlwind of press and practicing and qualifying before the actual grand prix.
Sukuna's body was tense underneath you, shoulders taut and fingers digging in too hard even as you grinded down just to get his sharp nose to nudge against your sensitive clit. The fingers in your mouth pressed down on your tongue, trying to pull some new whimper or whine out of you like he could devour your need and turn it into fuel for himself.
You didn't mind being his stress relief. He was yours.
Someone you called when you wanted a break. You gave the relationship thing a try once, after almost a year of heated hookups and late night calls, but it crashed and burned harder than he had back when he was just a rookie starting out.
Besides, you were both busy. And wasn't this more convenient?
There were boundaries. Rules.
Sex and sleeping in were fine. Showing up to support each other at shows and races? Perfectly acceptable. But admitting any sort of feelings or playing house like an actual couple?
Penalties would be applied.
He could sleep with other women. He did. And you occasionally brought home a rockstar or two, or some hotshot actor who starred in one of your music videos.
The jealous fucks were better afterwards anyway, when he had something to prove with his mouth and his cock, like he was trying to get first place on your body.
You weren't sure where this hookup exactly fell.
Not everything that started sour ended up sweet - and right now mid-bite, you couldn't tell how he tasted. What would linger on your tongue later.
You met Sukuna before your debut album was even released a couple years ago. Tagging along with the guy you were sorta seeing while he tried to impress you by introducing you to the drivers. Sukuna had told him to fuck off and get out of his face. Then he asked for your number.
By the next morning, you had broken up with your then-boyfriend and woke up in Sukuna's bed instead. Love bites littering your skin and panties practically torn on the floor and a funny feeling fluttering in your stomach when you studied the chiseled face of the man whose arm was strewn over you.
You tried to slip away without disturbing his sleep - but he just yawned, blearily blinking at you before asking a question that had been stuck in your head since. "Wanna do that again?'
Again had led you back to him more times than you could count. Chained to an affair you knew was never going to be good for you just because your common sense checked out the second his skin was on yours or he murmured something only for you to hear.
So despite the fact it had been almost a month since the last time you'd seen him, hardly exchanging a few texts here and there when you were preoccupied with your latest project, you still answered when he called at two in the morning. Gruffly inviting you to come stay in his hotel room - promising that he already got you passes for everything this weekend.
You had laughed a little, asking if you were supposed to pay him back with sex, and while he grunted some irritated reply back about just wanting to see you, you didn't exactly believe him.
Neither of you would ever actually say you missed each other.
But that's what his mouth wrapped around your clit sure felt like, his tongue swirling over with unspoken affection.
Sukuna's phone buzzed.
Once, twice, and on the third vibration, he was lifting your hips with an annoyed groan, sliding his fingers from your mouth.
You climbed off his chest, already looking around for where your clothes were left on the floor. You knew how this went - whoever was calling would have something to say that would distract him or drag his attention away for the rest of the night.
"Where?" He grumbled behind you, and you just sighed, walking over to unzip your suitcase, only giving yourself a few seconds to grimace before you glued a smile back on.
It was the nature of your not-relationship.
Disappointment and disaster seemed to go hand-in-hand when it came to him. You never knew what he was really going to say or do, and no matter how hard you attempted to prepare, to be ready for it, he still swept you off your feet and ensnared you again.
Managed to drag you back into the same place, barefoot and naked in a foreign country while you fumbled to get ahold of your feelings once more.
Rummaging through the clothes you hastily tossed in, custom-fit dresses mixed in with lingerie and casual clothes, a couple heels and sandals shoved in that you had to toss out before Sukuna groaned again.
"Fine."
You knew Sukuna well enough to know when he wasn't pleased with what he was hearing.
Pajamas, then, you guessed? You were tempted to grab his suitcase and shuffle through it for one of his t-shirts to wear, but his loud footsteps were approaching, and he poked your ass.
"They want me to go to some party," he grumbled, and you shrugged your shoulders. Letting his chest press up against yours, his warm breath on the nape of your neck. "Wanna go?"
You never said no to him.
Even if the club he brought you to was obnoxiously loud and over packed. Even if in the first twenty minutes, you somehow managed to lose him once another driver spotted him and dragged him into a conversation about the press interviews they had to do tomorrow by the bar.
Parties had never been your scene. You preferred to spend your free time somewhere more...serene, you supposed. But a shot or two (or three) helped. It burned when it went down, but it dulled the night's edges, distracted you from the invisible weight bearing down on you.
You pulled down the dress you decided on, one that glittered under the dim lights, the little rhinestones reflecting them every time you moved. People kept talking to you, strangers and acquaintances and even a few fans, some requesting autographs and others just asking to dance or buy you drinks.
The driver for Aston Martin, the one whose name you could never remember, had tried to slip a hand under your dress, but all it had taken was a single snide remark that you'd tattle to Sukuna to send him scurrying back between the mass of bodies.
Although, you still hadn't managed to spot the pink-haired asshole anywhere.
Someone tapped your shoulder, and you twisted around, nearly spilling the martini currently in your hand.
It wasn't Sukuna. But you didn't mind this particular interruption.
The heat in your chest had sparks, the warmth from the alcohol and the atmosphere spreading everywhere else as you locked eyes with a familiar face.
Suguru was dressed too nice for a place like this, the sleeves to his button-up rolled up to reveal the pretty veins bulging in his forearms.
He smiled at you like it was the most natural thing in the world, his hand sliding from your shoulder to skim down your arm, only stopping when the edges of his fingertips were grazing over your own.
Most of the other drivers were terrified to incur Sukuna's wrath on the tracks and off of them. Not Suguru. He was probably the closest thing you could call to a friend here. You didn't have that many - so you tended to treasure the handful of people who actually treated you like one.
And he was the kind your eyes would scan every room searching for.
He was the one of the few who really tried to talk to you, to get to know you, outside of Gojo's attempts at flirting meant solely to get under Sukuna's skin. Suguru saved you seats and offered snacks, remembered the last thing you said to him - even if you hadn't seen him in weeks.
You'd never tell Sukuna, but Suguru was probably your favorite driver on the grid. You couldn't help how your attention drifted to him on the track, cheering a little louder when he took the podium and popped the champagne. He was just as talented as Sukuna too, just in a different way. Driven and intelligent and put-together, articulate in and out of interviews instead of raging half the time.
"Hey," he slyly grinned at you, lips twitching up as his dark eyes dragged over you.
Or maybe that was your imagination thinking something so small meant anything more.
"Hi," you smiled back.
"Been a while, huh?" He hummed, the defined line of his jaw clenching as he stepped closer to be heard.
"How have you been?" You asked, enjoying the way he leaned down to listen to you more than you probably should.
"Better now," he murmured softly.
"Yeah?" Your stupid heart stalled for a beat when you realized he was barely a few inches away, his chest nearly pressed against yours as the people passing by forced him closer. "Excited to be back in your car?"
You'd been around enough guys like him to know that nothing else could really compare to racing. They breathed it, bent and shaped their whole lives around it.
Everything else was just filling space. Including you.
Suguru's lips twitched for a moment, the cornes turning down before he shrugged.
"Sure," he said, and you didn't know what to say when there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. Maybe he was nervous?
You would be too if you were the first seat of a team that was dying to take home a world championship trophy, desperate to prove yourself when you were up against a fucking machine like Sukuna who seemed oiled and built purely for this sport.
Glancing back over your shoulder, you still didn't see him. Had he left? Got swept up with another girl in a tiny dress after too many drinks?
You couldn't breathe for a second, throat starting to shut before you shoved down your feelings and returned your attention to Suguru.
"Do you wanna dance?"
Suguru was struggling not to cum in his pants.
Your back was pressed against his chest, your perfume going straight to his fucking brain and making every thought he had fuzzy as he fought the impulse to feel you up when his hands were already perched on low on your hips. Fingers flexing and holding steady to your front as you melted against him, head resting on his collarbones as you hummed along to some song he didn't know.
Four songs in, and you had stayed glued to him, connected by clothes more than actual skin.
If he had more than two brain cells left to rub together that weren't totally devoted to you, he might've realized it was the one thumping through the club. Paid attention to anything other than the shape of you against him, the heat of your skin wrapping around him in a bubble he knew would pop sooner or later.
He sincerely hoped you couldn't feel his cock throbbing inside his pants, pulsing every time your ass grinded back against him.
Did you notice what you were doing?
Or were you just as oblivious to that as you were to him?
"Suguru," you slurred a little, lashes fluttering as you looked up over your shoulder at him, leaning more of your weight on him. God, you looked so fucking gorgeous. Your makeup was a little smeared, mascara smudged and eyeliner not as sharp as it was supposed to be, soft eyeshadow shimmering as your glossy lips parted again.
But you didn't say anything, just stared for a moment.
"Mhm?" He managed, even though it was deep, more like a grunt than a real response.
"Did you miss me?" You innocently asked, and he knew you meant as a friend. That was all you were. But it still struck him in the heart, drove a fucking knife in it that he knew he couldn't remove without risking bleeding out here on the dance floor.
You being here was already more than he could take.
"Of course," he answered automatically.
But you didn't seem satisfied, a little pout pushing together on your lips that did not help his situation down south.
"You didn't call me," you pointed out.
"Did you want me to call you?" He asked, eyes narrowing out of reflex rather than intentionally. He assumed you were here with Sukuna, coming back into the fold the same way you always did - on his arm. Where he'd have to watch that prick put his hands all over you or pull you away. Wait for your next single to drop and know it was written about the man who had everything he wanted.
Your shoulders shrugged up, like the answer was yes, but you couldn't actually say it out loud.
For a fraction of a second, he let himself think that maybe you weren't. That just maybe, you were here for him.
"I won't tell Sukuna if you don't," you giggled, and he had to hide the hurt he actually felt.
It wasn't hard.
He'd been doing it since the day you met him.
Back when he thought he had a realistic chance to win you over.
"I'm not scared of him," he muttered under his breath, but you only laughed again, airy as you shook your head a little. He stilled, his body not moving as you kept going, hips shifting in time with the music.
You were clearly tipsy. And even just dancing with you felt like he was taking advantage of that.
He wanted to get you out of here. Back to whatever hotel room you were staying in before someone else did what he wouldn't. Would Sukuna give a shit if you were drunk? Or would he just take an easy win?
"Can I tell you a secret?" You half-whispered, and the little rasp to your voice made him too fucking horny to do anything other than nod, all the air abruptly sucked out of him waiting to hear it.
"A secret?" He repeated, like even the word something intimate you shared.
"I'm really rooting for you," you murmured, a pretty gleam in your eyes when you grinned at him.
"Just in this race?" He heard himself ask, straining to get the question out.
"Always," you promised with a little wink. Your fingers reaching down to clasp over his hand, squeezing softly like you were trying to get him to keep dancing with you.
He knew he'd be replaying this moment in his head for the rest of the night. How your ass pressed against his bulge, the scent of your shampoo and the heat of your skin, that look in your eyes and the delicate feel of your fingers on top of his.
"The fuck are you doing?" An irritated voice called out, and you were being pulled away, a possessive hand on your waist as you let out a frustrated groan.
"What? I'm just having fun," you pouted, looking back at Suguru with an expression that he couldn't decide was apologetic or some weak appeal for assistance.
What could he do?
He wasn't the one you chose.
Suguru didn't even know if you knew you had a choice. Was he ever really an option for you?
Sukuna wasn't looking at you though, fixing his seething stare solely at Suguru.
"Don't fuckin' touch her again," he grimaced, glowering like if he looked hard enough, he could burn holes through him. Talking about you as if you were just a pretty possession, something that only belonged to him.
Maybe he'd get fined if he touched his car, but there weren't any regulations when it came to you.
"Don't be like that," you complained. "We were dancing, not-"
"I don't care," Sukuna snapped, and Suguru saw the way you flinched, falling back into back into his hold.
You frowned, and Suguru felt himself doing the same as you looked back at him again. Mouthing a sorry as if you were responsible for what that asshole said or did.
"See you this weekend," Suguru soberly said, and Sukuna's thick brows knitted together, thinking he was speaking to him.
His mouth opened, ready to snarl something nasty back, but you sighed, lacing your fingers with his to tug him back.
"Sukuna," you said his name, and he stopped.
You just sort of had that affect on people.
"Let's just go back to the hotel," you murmured, and he hated how fucking stupid he felt for ever thinking you would trade Sukuna for second best.
Even his own team principal would switch him for Sukuna if he could.
Why would this year with you be any different?
div by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more
a/n: suguru fr about to pull the 'he lashes out with unecessary anger and borderline violence' line already guys
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)
.
.
.
And he did.
From his phone, his laptop, his mother’s phone, his father’s phone- Geto’s phone, Shoko’s phone (where he found a copy of the last test paper’s marking scheme—he knew that little con-woman cheated, he feared for her future patients). Until, ultimately, you did win the competition.
Just as he’d wanted you to.
And Ijichi as well, he supposes. But he is younger (at least, visibly) and more beautiful - therefore Gojo thinks it should count more.
And so you swept every award in the reality competition, and snagged center spot in every headline, concert, and fan account that was ready to feature the freshly-minted popstar.
Almost two years later, by the time that your official debut had come ‘round with a hit single and an album that was climbing the charts, he’d just entered his first year in university. And by then, practically everyone in his life knew by now that he was a sort of…stan. Gojo accepted the title begrudgingly, after Geto and Shoko had walked into his newly-acquired dorm room one day and found every inch of his walls covered in your posters. There was a life-sized cardboard cut-out of you underneath his bed, too, but thankfully they hadn’t found that yet.
Geto threatened to strangle him until he took down the posters of you on his side of the room, at least. They were sharing, after all.
The room was appreciated on stan Twitter, at least. His latest post about it racked up a solid 992.1k views.
@thestrongestfanboy: New room pic!! Can u guess my ultimate bias, bet u can’t^^ \(★ω★)/
Attached was a picture that he’d forgone every single rule and regulation about internet safety to post: from the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, to the cardboard cut-out of you, to the plushie of your cupid character, to the American flag with your face on it (why always the American flag for these things, he wasn’t sure), to the rare photocards that he was holding up for the camera. It was a shrine.
The replies…not so much.
@pinkillit: Lemme guess…Cupid? Lol so real, I luv her too!
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @pinkillit: Well I love her more than u so…(￢_￢;)
@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Damn
@gggggnarly: WOAH??
@hearts2hurts: I can’t even send hate, this is impressive ngl.
@utahimeslefttoe: need to do this with my bias
@lovelicky: Parasocialism, who?
@yuuthebaddie: You scare the huzz
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I don’t need the huzz when I have my queen #thearrowhitme (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)
@Fushidaddy7 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: kinda wish I could hit you rn too #fakefan
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy7: ??? Blocked.
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Don’t u think it’s kinda problematic to be pushing 40 and arguing with minors online?
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: youre 19 tf are you talking about?? and also because you claim the arrow hit you, but you don’t even have her rare “First Love, First Kiss” photocard. youre no better than a local lol.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: U seriously think ur a bigger fan than me? I was there since even before our girl debuted. Lmao.
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i was there before she even entered the show- and yes. i am.
That particular scathing reply wasn’t over with just that, and Gojo had realized - clicking on the notification, to his slowly-growing horror - that it would be accompanied by a picture, as well. A snapshot to a room that looked much like his own.
From the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, a selfie with you at a rookie fanmeet before (dammit) you’d entered the competition, the cardboard cut-outs, the plushies, the flags, the rare photocards. And yes…the ultra-rare ‘First Love, First Kiss’ photocard that he’d last heard went for a comfortable few hundred dollars on the market.
With you costumed like a sweet, sweet cupid.
Sparkling eyes. Angel wings. Holding up the second button from the top of a school uniform - a symbol of confession in Japan - as if you were confessing to someone.
To him.
Gojo’s giggling stupidly and kicking his feet on the bed as he zooms in on the picture, taking in your picture on the photocard- before his phone buzzes with yet another Twitter notification and his heart plummets as he realizes just whose room this is. Fushidaddy8 himself could be seen reflected on the lone mirror in the room: scarred lips smirking, his beefy arms raised in a flex, biceps the size of Gojo’s head—
@pinkillit: He kinda ate you up ngl.
Ignoring that, he responded to the aforementioned perpetrator.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Well I’m going to marry her!! Hope that helps!! ╮(︶▽︶)╭
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: delulu really isn’t the trululu kid
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: That trend’s dead, unc.
Though he did slide into the other man’s direct messages right after that, in the hopes of buying out the exclusive photocard from him.
He was laughed all the way out of his direct messages.
Gojo Satoru did several things next.
He blocked (and reported) @Fushidaddy8.
He subscribed for a gym membership.
He dragged Geto out of their shared dorm room (sleep-deprived and grumbling at the 3:41AM on the clock, bound to miss the important physics exam that day…semantics, heh) as moral support on his trek to the post office. Where, when his best friend shivered at the cold early morning and questioned just what and to whom were they mailing, Gojo had answered-
“Oh, just my second button.” The very same one that he’d kept safely since their graduation from high school a few months ago - because, see, Gojo Satoru wasn’t the type to fall in love.
He wasn’t the type to confess.
Though, he did get confessed to more times that he could count (he was perhaps the second most popular bachelor on campus, right after Geto - but even that was a highly-debated ranking of first and second). He just never found the one.
That is…
Gojo beams, plastering on a few stamps on the cardboard box- much too big for but a single button. In it, he poured his feelings—corny, yes. But true. “I’m going to send it to my girl, Cupid-”
Geto punches him before he can finish.
@thestrongestfanboy: The lion does not concern himself with the pain that comes with #truelove, even if he cried a little ☆⌒(> _ <)
@Fushidaddy9 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmao loser.
Just a few months later, another one of your limited edition photocards was released: the “Said Yes!!” photocard that sold out instantly. Just the cutest photo of you receiving a second button in confession, your expression one of pleasant surprise.
No one believed Gojo when they told them that the button was his.
He bought five.
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@BuzzFeed: Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who’s The Biggest Fanboy of Them All? Cupid’s Fandom Compare Notes on Fanboy Shrines and 35 Other Delulu Stan Happenings This Week.
(Read more on buzzfeed.com)
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Gojo Satoru had bought 67 albums.
67…heh.
Sixty-seven different copies of the very same album—yours.
Sixty-seven different copies of the latest addition in your platinum-reaching, Grammy award-winning discography: the ‘Obsession’ album.
Of course, they’re all yours. Because who else would have such banger songs that he wouldn’t mind replaying over and over again until Geto threatened to smash the damn things? Who else would have exclusive photocards so cute stuffed into the crevices of said albums, that he just had to collect them all? Who else would host a fancall event that he simply had to put a dent in his sizable bank account to win?
It was somewhat of a lottery system, and Gojo’s sure he’d funded his local record store for a few months at least with how much he’d cashed out there.
He’d been up bright n’ early on the day your album hit the stores - camping outside with a few avid others of your fandom (though, proudly, he’d been the first one there). Rushing with the rest to buy up your album, your merch, and with it…a chance to see you.
Every album bought was an entry into the raffle that’d grant them a chance to see you.
Just a few minutes of your time through the screen, and even that was like looking through the pearly gates of heaven in Gojo’s eyes. He’d dreamt about it, he’d manifested it, he’d tweeted about it so many times on his private account that everyone but Haibara had blocked him on.
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I’M 22 NOW SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT (ಥ﹏ಥ)
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: LORD KNOWS IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I believe in you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@Fushidaddy27 replying to @HiByeRawr: dont
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV replying to @Fushidaddy27: How did u even get here??
And so, the wait had dragged on with a few more accounts blocked.
Until, finally, one day Gojo had been simply scrolling through his emails as he usually did. A few updates from Canvas on his assignment grades. A few A+’s. An email from Geto with nothing but one of those old pictures from Yaga’s abstract dance classes attached. A few more A+’s. An email from the record store saying he won the fancall event. Yet another picture of Yaga-
His heart had damn near stopped.
Actually- Gojo doesn’t think he was even breathing as he hurriedly scrolled back and clicked open the email from the record store. He reads the very first word—
“Congratulations…”
And that’s all he needs to stand up and cheer-
“Shhhh—!” The cryptid-like elderly librarian, Gakuganji, shushes him from just a few tables away. A glare so intense that it makes Gojo sit back down in his seat in an instant, ducking back down to stare at his phone screen.
Heart thundering. Fingers trembling. “Oh my god…” He whispers to himself, knees bouncing underneath the mahogany table as he’s clicking on the link embedded into the email.
It takes him to the official site of your management, where the list of winners had been announced on one page dedicated especially to you. And there - right at the very top - his name.
Gojo Satoru.
Censored, yes. But he could read it well enough - it was only confirmation of what he already knew through the email.
And as Gojo tries to tame his giddy elation inside the library, he forgoes those revision papers of his to instead tap away at his phone. First, he texts his parents. Then he texts his friends. Then he emails Nanamin (also one of his friends, but the man had him blocked everywhere else…)- and just as he caught sight of that winner’s email again, Gojo squeals—
“Out of my library!”
Later, Gojo Satoru was added to the campus library Wall of Shame (and Nuisances).
But he didn’t care.
Not one single bit.
@thestrongestfanboy: About to meet my future wife- how do I look? (￣▽￣*)ゞ
Attached was a selfie of him making your signature bow-and-arrow pose a few days later.
He was well-fitted in his best dress shirt that hugged his toned waist. Cologne practically palpable through the screen. Soft white bangs tamed. Donning a silver chain. False glasses on because he heard in one of your latest interviews that you liked nerds.
Cheeks rosy.
“Bro, isn’t the call for like two minutes?” Geto grumbles from his bed on the other side of the room. Their cramped dorm was already small enough without the other pacing every inch of it in nervousness.
Gojo whips around with a snarl, “No, for your information it’s actually two and a half minutes.”
Geto squints, “Right…” Before he raises his nose into the air and sniffs—“And god- what is that awful fucking smell?”
“You don’t like it?” His best friend asks innocently, “It’s my cologne.”
“There’s no way your cologne smells like that?” The dark-haired man gapes, leaning back in his bed as he covers his nostrils with a palm.
Geto already has his answer by the way that Gojo starts to squirm. “Well…I may have also added in a bit of your cologne, too…”
“…”
“And Nanamin’s.”
“…”
“And Shoko’s-”
“What the fuck, Satoru?” Geto slaps a hand over his forehead, in the way he much seemed to do when it came to an antic that Gojo did without his consultation (he means, c’mon, if they were to be dumb fucks then they should be dumb fucks together).
But this was too far even for him.
And Geto only sighs before he’s reaching for his heavy headphones, placing the cushioned device on top of his head. “After this, we’re taking you out to touch grass, man.” He opens his phone to something and blocks out Gojo’s whining protests with it. “I’m serious.”
“And I’m serious when I say you better not fuck this up for me, Suguru.” Gojo stabs an accusing finger at his best friend, while his other hand reaches for his own phone - the scheduled time for your video call was nearing. “Keep yourself scarce when she calls me.”
“Mhm, whatever you say.”
“Because she’s my future wife-”
“Crazy story, bro.”
With Geto not even close to responsive any longer, Gojo huffs as he looks through his notifications-
@Fushidaddy31: YOURE SO CHOPPED LMFAOOOOOOOO
Nevermind.
Instead, he waits in front of his desk. Phone propped up. Earbuds plugged in. Back straight against his chair. More formal and elegant than he had in any of his other meetings or lectures before.
He turns off his notifications and opens up the app that management had directed him to through emails. Pressing on the screen record button, Gojo’s stomach turns as a staff member performs an ID check before the call.
And then it starts.
Your beautiful, beautiful face pops up on the screen.
Those eyes. That smile. The voice that says, “Hello?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Gojo’s heart drops to his stomach then takes a high-speed elevator right back up to his throat, he can feel the ba-dump! of it there. And later - years and years later - he’ll be able to cringe at the way that his naturally deep voice broke- “H-he-”
Before your face pauses.
It freezes.
And suddenly the call ends.
wait…Gojo taps on his Wi-Fi…he taps on his data…he taps on anything and everything that might make a difference. And yet, nothing ever does. Gojo immediately throws down his earphones on his desk and stands- so fast that his chair topples over—“Suguru!”
The dark-haired man jolts in his bed, turning over at the shriek with his brows scrunched in confusion. Seeing the state his best friend was in, he raises his phone as a shield. “What?”
“Don’t what me- don’t- you- you—” So enraged that he couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. Face red. Veins popping on his neck. The only way that Geto manages to even slightly discern what the other man may be talking about is by the way he points at his phone, the shared Wi-Fi router, then his phone.
Geto’s mouth drops, “Ah…” And he catches sight of the orange, blinking right on the router that told the both of them that the day’s data has been finished. He looks at his phone…with the absolutely massive update that had just completed. “In my defense, Love and Deepspace had an update-”
“Suguru, I’m going to kill you.”
Ultimately, no amount of begging or crying to attempting to throttle Geto could reverse the fact that Gojo had won a fancall…and missed it.
All because of his Wi-Fi.
“There there, man.” Geto pats his friend - draped across his bed with his face in his hands - on the back. “At least the new event loaded- it’s an idol event, and I’ll let you play it with Sylus-”
Gojo only sobs louder.
“And then after that, we’ll actually go touch grass. How about that?”
@thestrongestfanboy: Nothing beats a Jet2 holiday to HELL. @DigiGeto ur going to HELL.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Mb
@Fushidaddy32: rare aesthetic: fancall with #her n made her do the coldplay kiss cam trend with me heh
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy32: Blocked.
@Fushidaddy32 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??
@CupidOfficial: So glad to be able to talk with my lovely fans during the fancall event today!! Thank you to everyone that attended, and even those that didn’t attend heheh…I see you, and I love you <33
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@Variety: This week’s cover story:
Global Superstar Cupid: On Stardom, Surprises of Fame, and the Undying Support of her Fans (“There was actually this funny story with a fan that froze—”)
(see page 9…)
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Gojo Satoru was on cloud nine.
Gojo Satoru was in heaven.
Gojo Satoru was going to meet his wife.
Everywhere he looked, he could see that beautiful face of yours.
From the floor-to-ceiling posters against the stark white walls, to the stalls upon stalls of merchandise that featured you, to the rows upon rows of people wearing t-shirts with your face on it. Posters. Plushies. Bow-and-arrow lights. Everything that his heart could ever yearn for.
And that included you.
And no- Gojo hadn’t died and gone to heaven (evidenced by the way that no matter how many times he pinched himself, it still bruised). Don’t be silly! He was simply at a place that was rather similar, he imagines.
A fanmeet.
Where the excitement was palpable, and everyone here had arrived with the same goal in mind - to spend just a few precious moments with you in person.
In person!
Geto was the one that’d snagged him the ticket to this event, to make up for the rather tragic incident with the fan call two years ago. And so here he was, at your first-ever fanmeet in Tokyo. Gojo vibrated on the balls of his feet, and with his towering height he could make out just a few more meters until he managed to see you up-close.
He held one of his most prized possessions - your first poster from Idol Academy, the one that Ijichi had gifted him so many years ago - to his chest and sighed. In less than an hour, he’d have it signed. In less than an hour, he’d get to hold your hand.
In less than an hour, he’d get to see you.
There was a part of him that felt like it was tugging towards you already- and Gojo has to bounce himself slightly to find a way to channel the adrenaline.
It’d been quite the arduous journey to get to here, and he didn’t want to make a single mistake now - all the albums he’d bought, all the pictures from your latest fanmeets that he’d fawned over, all the stan Twitter fights.
Honestly, just today he’d gotten into it with some delusional loser online (@urmomstype) that’d been spreading rumors about you being…particularly close with the famed actor you had in your newest music video. Gojo shudders as he thinks back to it:
@urmomstype: A thread of all the PROOFS that #Cupid is dating the hottest k-drama actor right now—
Inside was some amalgamated mess of pictures of ‘shared couples items’ (half the population owned that shit, c’mon, that actor was far from special) and coded messages that apparently littered your social media. By the end of it, the user had been self-assured, a few other misogynistic antis were spouting hate, and Gojo was furious.
He’d typed away so fast that his thumbs were nothing but a blur.
@thestrongestfanboy: U call this proof?? Holy fucking airball lmao (￣ヘ￣)
@thestrongestfanboy: Bozo
@thestrongestfanboy: Ratio + L + my fav is better than ur fav
@thestrongestfanboy: She isn’t dating anyone BOZO!! Even if she was (which she isn’t) it’s none of ur business and ur a loser so go back to doing loser things. I bet ur an anti from that one other agency…凸(`△´＃)
@Fushidaddy89 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: yk for once i agree with you
@urmomstype replying to @Fushidaddy89: Why are two uncs replying to me…arguing with a minor btw.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @urmomstype: With this gift I summon-
It had lasted a few hours (and that was on the shorter end of the stick). Until, ultimately, Geto and Shoko had pulled his phone away from his face (he was defending your honor!) and reminded him that there were much more important things on the horizon.
Namely, you…
Besides, he was glad to get away from the epic highs and lows of high school football stan Twitter. He was glad not to have to fight with what was likely some middle-aged, parasocial man there over you. He was glad not to get into futile shipping wars that-
“Do you think her actor boyfriend will be here?”
An agitating, grating voice breaks through his thoughts (really, it was the squeaky voice of a child), and Gojo’s immediately whipping his head down, down, down behind him.
It was a buzzcut boy, wearing a t-shirt with your face and a pair of soft feathery wings that was sold as one of your exclusive merchandise—and yet…those angelic appendages still wasn’t enough to hide the mischief in his face.
Gojo stares at him.
And he stares at Gojo.
“You.”
“You.”
As his blonde-haired guardian looks on in slight shock, Gojo stabs an index his way- “User urmomstype?”
“User thestrongestfanboy.” He then points at himself, “But you can call me Todo Aoi.” And before the older man can begin to sputter again, he raises a small palm to silence him (and why was Gojo being silenced by what looked like an eight-year-old?) “I already know who you are, Gojo Satoru. You’re infamous inside the fandom, y’know?”
He gapes, “I am?”
“Mhm.”
Before he starts twirling the curls of white at the base of his neck, Todo stares in bewilderment as the taller man starts squirming. “So like…d’you think that means there’s a chance she’d notice me, too?”
“…”
“…”
“F-forget that-”
“You really think you can pull fine shyt?” Todo squints up at Gojo, and then down at the sheer amount of merchandise he was draped in. “You’re chopped with a negative aura that no amount of aura farming could possibly replenish, brother. Your eyes are built like a 24k labubu. If you were a meal, even Fanum wouldn’t ask for tax. Even I’d win a mid-off against you. I hate to break it to you but she’s much better off with that actor-”
“Don’t think that just because you’re speaking in brainrot terms I don’t understand you- I’m brainrotted, too.” Seething, “And they’re not even dating-”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Definitely not!”
The little boy nods, sagely. “Still got the views for the music video, didn’t I? And what did you do? Whine about how you weren’t married to her yet?”
And to that he doesn’t have much to say, “Well…”
The blonde-haired woman that’d been holding Todo back finally announces her presence, “Hi there- apologies. My name’s Yuki.” She reached out her hand, and they shook - with Gojo dazed by the absolute demolishment of his character. “I’ve warned him about his ah- ragebaiting issue…it’s a work-in-progress.”
“I-I see…” Gojo breathes, looking back at the line - just a little longer and he’d be out of here. Just a little longer and he’d get to see you—“One question, I’m not actually chopped, am I?”
As Todo whispers the definition to Yuki, she shakes her head happily. “Oh, not at all! You’re not exactly my type, but trust that you’re quite the handsome character.”
“Handsome enough to pull my wife?” At her visible confusion, he jerks his head where your figure was seated at a black-clothed table, signing posters and making conversation with your line of fans. Oh- how perfect you were.
“O-oh! Her?” A line of sweat beads at her temple, “Well, why not?”
Gojo - quite maturely - sticks his tongue out at Todo.
But the boy only replies, “You look like you wear wigs.”
Gojo self-consciously runs a hand through his soft white hair, “I-I don’t!” He did take particularly good care of his hair.
“Do you wear wigs?”
“No, I do not-”
“Have you worn wigs?”
“No, I have not-”
“Will you wear wigs?”
“…Maybe?!”
“When will you wear wigs-”
“Please!”
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to step out.” A gruff, masculine voice speaks out from beside him- and it didn’t match Todo’s probing voice. Not at all. Gojo turns his surprised head around and finds himself face-to-face with a stony-faced man.
As tall as him. Even beefier. With shades that reflected his own widened blue eyes.
His jaw drops, “Wh-what…”
The security guard gestures to Todo, and then towards the door with the ‘Exit’ sign. “For your disruption, we’re going to have to ask you to step out of the premises.” He cracks his knuckles, “Or you shall be escorted out.”
“No-” Gojo’s gasping, looking around for an answer. “No no no no- disruption? What disruption?”
“Arguments with a child-”
“That lil’ shit deserved it—” Gojo whines out, before realizing that that likely didn’t help his case. “I-I mean-” He’s gesturing to the boy that was clearly not disrupted in any sense of the word, “-look at him! He’s completely fine! In fact, I’m the one emotionally scarred.”
The other two also start to protest this course of action, and the security guard stays silent for a beat, and lets the counterargument sink in…
Before he raises his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “We’re having some resistance here, I request back-up at the front of the line.”
“No no no-” He was just a meter away - a meter. “No, wait- please no.” And by now, the other fans were starting to point and stare at him now. At the way he was panicking. At the way he was trying to inch himself closer to the signing event. At the way he was so close to you- and yet, so far, with two burly security guards that clapped their hands down on his shoulders and dragged him away by his arms.
All the way to the exit.
As you stared.
“NOOOOOOO—!”
@thestrongestfanboy: I’m gonna be honest, kitten, daddy’s about to kill himself ٩(× ×)۶
@Fushidaddy103 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i saw the video youre trending on tiktok lmaooooo
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: F in the chat
@pinkillit replying to @urmomstype: F
@hearts2hurts replying to @urmomstype: F
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @urmomstype: F
@lovelicky replying to @urmomstype: F
@CupidOfficial: Tokyo, oh Tokyo~
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TRENDING ON TIKTOK:
#Cupidfanmeet
#thatonecrazyguy
#thestrongestfanboy
#Cupiddatingrumors
#Cupidbemywife
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This was it.
This was Gojo’s last chance.
He hadn’t won a fancall since that one time (no matter how many albums he bought, the universe just wasn’t on his side), he’d been barred from your Tokyo fanmeet, he’d been known as that one delusional fanboy in your fandom.
Which was honestly fine. Gojo was fine.
He was completely and utterly fine-
“OHMYGODSUGURUI’MSOCLOSEITHINKICANSEEHERICANSEEHER-” Gojo yelled in Geto’s ear, over the roaring crowd that was most likely saying the same thing he was. He shook the man, and then proceeded to shake his other best friend standing right beside him. “YOUGUYSARETHEBESTANDILOVEYOUANDYOU’LLBETHEBESTMANANDBESTWOMANAND-”
“Not if I kill you right now.” Shoko mutters, punching Gojo right in the stomach so he’d shut up for the first time in the past few hours. She takes a puff of her cigarette, even though the stadium had a strict no smoking policy.
She needed it.
She deserved it.
Though, she supposed that there was no one to blame but herself.
It was obvious the toll that all the failed fancalls and fanmeets had taken on Gojo. And while she couldn’t quite understand the sheer ahem- delusion that came with it, she knew that this was something important to him. And Geto did, too.
Which was why, with the power of social media, the duo had reached out to that ‘urmomstype’ boy and his blonde-haired guardian. Apparently, even after Gojo had been escorted his merry way outside, the two had tried to overturn the decision, explaining that it’d all just been some silly banter and there really wasn’t anything to remove him over. ‘He might be chopped and unc, but he’s still a goat. Sorta.’ The boy had said, whatever that means…
But, alas, the security guard had been stubborn.
And so, the four - Shoko, Geto, Yuki, and Todo (yes, even Todo) - had wanted to make it up to Gojo in a different way. Despite not being able to attend the fanmeet, you still had your upcoming concert in the famous Tokyo Dome.
They’d stayed up all night on the phone trying out every connection they had to somehow get a few extra tickets.
All night.
There had to be something, right?
Until - finally, finally - Yuki managed to get in contact with Gakuganji (yes, their ol’ campus librarian), who managed to get in contact with Yaga (yes, their ol’ high school principal), who managed to get in contact with one of his other friends that knew someone on your staff team. And through a rollercoaster of contacts, they somehow managed to snag a few seats.
Front row.
Gojo had burst into tears the moment he read that pink slip of paper with your name in bold, surrounded by hearts. He’d crushed them all to him, so tight that Shoko wondered whether her bones might break, and whispered. “You guys are definitely invited to my wedding.”
And if her heart melted just a little bit then, well…she didn’t mention it.
Now, however, she’d no sooner be invited to Gojo Satoru’s funeral than his alleged wedding. To their own fortune, Yuki and Todo had been assigned places a few seats down. A weary Geto on the other side of their white-haired friend reaches his hands out towards her. “Cigarette, please.”
Shoko raises a brown brow, “You don’t even smoke?”
“I’m about to start.”
“You guuuuys—” Gojo drags on, as the opening notes of your album start to ring out on the speakers. He shoots his hands out to grab Shoko- and when she ducks, he shoots his hands out to grab Geto- and when he groans, Gojo only sways them in the air. “It’s about to start- she’s about to come on stage- oh my god, oh my god my wife’s about to come on stage-”
“She’ll be your ex-wife if you don’t calm the fuck down.” Geto can’t help but laugh. Shoko looks on in confusion as he moves in synchronization with Gojo to the first few dance moves of your routine. Geto answers her unspoken question, “What? He played it all the time in our dorm, I could recite every lyric and move in my sleep by now.”
“M-me too.” And as your silhouette starts to become projected on the screen behind you, Gojo’s starting to tear up. Large, bulbous tears of emotion.
They were both dancing in unison now.
Crying (Gojo, at least).
Shoko shakes her head with a chuckle of her own. “Idiots.”
And then you saunter your way onto stage and Shoko (as well as everyone in a five-mile radius) feels their eardrums stop working.
@thestrongestfanboy: I wasn’t just another screaming boy…I challenged her stare down…she saw me. She pointed—twice. And if u think I’m done? Let’s see if the wolf can find his prey again…good luck…(^人<)〜☆
Attached was a video taken from the concert - more girlish screaming (Gojo’s) than music, to be quite honest.
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy114: I don’t see u at the concert. L |ʘ‿ʘ)╯
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i dont see me trending on tiktok either
Gojo doesn’t even have the time to block and report Fushidaddy’s 114th account, because he’s too busy shoving his phone into his pocket and joining the screams for your encore that night. The one where you pretend to walk off, then dramatically sigh as you prance back down—
“Ah~” You’re voicing into the mic, looking at the sea of flash-lit faces around you. “Again? You lot are reeeeeally ravenous tonight, aren’t you?”
In unison, they roar. They agree.
With a faux huff, you’re placing your hand on your waist. It’s a pose infamous amongst your fandom, and they already knew what was coming up next- “Who’s got you so worked up, huh? Is it…me?” Roaring. Rumbling. Raging. You gasp, flattered. “It’s really me? Oh, now you’re just kidding—”
A furious shake of heads.
“You’re not? Well…” You smile, and it’s the type of smile that makes a flurry of star-stuck cameras go off. Basking in it, you walk oh-so-closely to the edge of the stage, where hands reach out to merely be in your presence. “That’s cute. But I still think I should arrest someone for being so naughty tonight, getting you all worked up.”
Crowds wave, volunteering themselves up to you.
You reach for your glittering belt and pull out the fluffy pink handcuffs that make them squeal, “And how aboooooout…”
Scanning the stadium.
Looking around.
Your eyes pass over the roaring head until—
“Ah! You there.” You’re pointing, your eye catching on a fluffy head of white hair. A face so handsome. So eager. “How about you? Would you like to be my arrestee tonight—?”
His deep voice sounds out, “Y-yes! Yes please-”
And as you near, the crowd grows even more restless. Like a tumultuous sea, the waves crash into each other, creating a rough tide that almost wanted to pull you in-
You blink.
And suddenly that white-haired man has disappeared.
But you’re by the edge of the stage by now, and you could feel the palms reaching for you as you try to discern just where he might be. “I uh-” You pause. Before the crowd surges forwards, and you’re thinking quickly to point out someone else. “Perhaps he isn’t so eager to be thrown in the slammer tonight-” They laugh, “-so how about you? Brown-haired girl? Would you like to be arrested by me~?”
She nods, and you proceed with your lil’ skit to ‘arrest’ her for being much too naughty.
Teasing and twirling, before you stand up and get on with the rest of your concert-
“And now—who’s ready for an encore~?”
You prance away, leaving a trail of glitter and song- and tears. Fuck, Gojo only claws himself up from the ground just as you finished your little arresting routine. The roll of the crowd had knocked him to the ground, and Shoko looks at her sad lil’ best friend.
She raises the handcuffs on her wrists, “Help me get out of these and you can have them, Satoru-”
“No, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Gojo straightens himself up, and Shoko’s shocked to find that he shakes his head in rejection.
“Satoru, are you okay?” Geto asks, warily.
“Yeah-” He sighs. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Something hollow in his breath. Something hollow in his heart, as he watches you slip away.
One.
More.
Time.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play Chasing Pavements by Adele
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: but you good bro??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy117: No bro
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i feel you bro
@CupidOfficial: White hair. White stars…
That night, while Gojo had tossed and turned himself into a fitful sleep, his phone buzzed with yet another notification.
One that he had to blink his eyes at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, one that he had to pinch himself at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
DIRECT MESSAGES for @thestrongestfanboy.
@CupidOfficial: You’re the white-haired boy from tonight, aren’t you?
@CupidOfficial: Sorry if this is forward of me, I’ve just seen you around quite a bit…on my timeline, at the fanmeet…
@CupidOfficial: I just wanted to ask whether you’d want to model for the cover of my upcoming album?
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@pannchoa: Rumors swirl of Cupid’s upcoming album! Dispatch hints and industry whispers - read the full EXCLUSIVE from her producer right here.
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First thing’s first, you had Gojo Satoru sit on the couch of your penthouse accommodation. Talking through the details of your secretive upcoming album, and how the aesthetic you were going for fit his dazzling looks perfectly.
Second thing’s second, you had him seated on your king-sized bed. Still babbling about your album- at least, he was. Though the both of you knew that it was something else entirely on your minds.
Third thing’s third, he was sprawled out on said mattress. You straddlin’ his handsome face like a perch. His puffy, pinkish lips glued to your cunt—
“Mmpf- mmmm…” Gojo’s groaning over the most lecherous squelches that you’ve heard in your entire life. They’re echoing out like one of your sweetest songs, in sloppy staccato with the rovering movements of his tongue.
Gojo Satoru was eating you out like he was ravenous.
Famished.
Grabbing ahold of each side of your ass cheeks, he’s dragging you back down onto his gaping maw each n’ every time you flinched away with a whine, letting his tongue slash deeply into your drivelling orifice. “Mmm- hck!” Gojo’s so sloshed on your syrupy pussy that he’s finding himself hiccuping, eyes rolling all the way to the back of his head once your sap trickles out with a splash! Straight into the back of his throat, “Ohhhhh, my sweet girl-”
“Now now-” With a shiver, one of your hands slithers down to tug on Gojo’s clammy white locks. Almost as if to pull him away- but that only makes him nudge his lips closer to your hole with a keen. “Make sure you remember to- haaah, breathe, Gojo-”
“Sa-Satoru-” He whispers this out directly against your quivering cunt, and the vibrations make your back arch perfectly. Looking up at you through his pale lashes, fluttering. “Please call me, Satoru…”
Just the tip of his tongue that reels back out to fuck back in-
“-ma’am.”
“O-oh—” You’re moaning out at the way that his thick muscle pierces you - not only was Gojo an avid talker, but he had the tongue to back that up, too. So strong. So lengthy. He’s stirrin’ his tongue around and around in circular motions to graze those ridged tastebuds of his into each tiny nook n’ cranny.
Pulling onto his sweaty bangs and that only seems to make him go even harder- “S’that what you want me to call you?” You’re managing out, looking down at him- and that seems to make him jolt at the sheer intensity. “You want me to call you…”
You teasingly trail off, and Gojo only seems to buck—his hips coming up to make your vast bed creek. Chin spankin’ against the edge of your cunt when he yearns even closer, “Yes? Yes?”
“Oh? Was I supposed to- hck! finish something?” Pretending to not know exactly what he wanted, and it frankly made you even wetter to see the way that the tips of Gojo’s ears burn bright red at being caught.
“You know what I want baby- you know-” Sputtering out scorching hot breaths against your hole, before you know it- Gojo has one of his hands looped ‘round your thigh. The flat of his right thumb rubbin’ up and down your clit, “You kn-know what I want- and this pretty pussy does, too.”
Just the sultry sensation of him toying with your nub makes you gasp and buck. With your head thrown back, he’s taking every forceful bounce.
With such immense pleasure, Gojo’s letting his entire pretty face get ridden. The seeping hot core of your cunt plasters from the tip of his nose, down, down, down to grind your clit on the point of his chin. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Timing your gyrations just right, Gojo purses his lips and he spits- “She’s just so wet, my light.” Creating a slippery puddle that lets him slither his tongue into you even faster, “Soooo fucking wet. Sooo fuh-fucking loud, might even be louder than you on stage- and she’s honest, too.”
You’re raising a brow in challenge, raising his blushing head from between your legs to simply ask. “And just wh-what is ‘she’ honest about?”
There’s another dangling line of saliva spat on top of your pussylips, and the edge of Gojo’s thumb presses each wad inside. You shiver - and so does your core. “She knows she loves me—she knows she wants to call me ‘Satoru’, doesn’t she?”
Oh.
You simply shiver- you don’t even have an answer, and Gojo doesn’t expect you to have one. With sensual movements, the plush part of his lower lip drag-drag-draaaaags down the front of your cunt.
He’s pulling his tongue back, just lightly tapping it on top of your shaky orifice—“Hey…” You’re grumbling out, when his teasing motions are lingering for just too long. You tug on his hair, and that seems to make him groan in ecstacy - the happiness of being used. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”
“Why? Does she miss me?” Gojo prattles away - not to you, but to your dripping wet cunt. Almost as if to prove his point, just the spit-covered edge of his tastebuds slither close to your hole. And it makes you clench—
Around nothing, because Gojo’s pulling away in an instant.
He never imagined how fun it would be to tease you.
His pretty, swollen lips turning up into a dirty grin. “Ohhh, don’t you worry, my light.” And the crown of his thumb rolls over your clit a few more times, “I already know that she misses the feeling of my tongue fucking ‘er-” And just as you wanted (because he could never leaving you longing for too long) Gojo’s tongue starts moving in, sinking. “Already know she wants to be f-filled up like no other could, already know every word to your songs- every lyric- every syllable. Already know you’re gonna feel my tongue between your legs- and you’re going to call me—”
You breathe, “Yes?”
And he’s almost pleading. “Your good boy?”
“Well…” You twist your fingers harshly into his silken white hair, and it makes Gojo moan. Slightly shoving him where you wanted him the most- “-then shut the fuck up n’ prove it to me, Satoru.”
And that’s all he wanted.
That’s all he needed. For now.
Until you’re calling him your ‘good boy’ exactly like that dark, carnal part of him wanted you to—Gojo’s grunting at the shock of his first name leaving your pretty lips, in that sing-song voice of yours.
A sudden lurch that makes him shove his clammy head between your legs once more. He’s glued to the sheeny inner parts of your thighs, roughly gluing his mouth over your glazed pussylips.
“Oh- oh…” Heavy pants leave your mouth, and your chest heaves each time Gojo’s probin’ not only his prolonged tongue inside you- but also his slender fingers. “You’re really trying to prove it t’me-”
They were just so long. The curvaceous tips of his digits deliciously curving into your tenderest spots- he glides them perfectly along your walls. Fitting the ridges of his middle and ring fingers against your g-spot.
Thoroughly. You could feel the way that Gojo was grinning against your cunt folds as he feels your cute walls clamp down ‘round his touch- “I found that spot, my light. It feels sooooo gooood having my fingers all up in there, hm? Can you feel me right there-”
“Y-yes-” Fuck, he was circlin’ the padded tips of his fingers and that made you fall upon the bed. You clap a hand down on that mahogany headboard of yours and use it to keep yourself moving- “Fuck, it feels so good.”
“Then don’t you think I deserve it…” He’s pouting, plush mouth now pulling back to clamp down your clit, too. And not only was he suckin’ on that nub, he was biting down, too. “M’your number one fan.”
“Mhm—fuh-fuck.” Your head falls back when he’s pressing his lips together and draaaaagging the fleshy top of your clit backwards. Just stretching. Just itching this carnal itch.
When you’re distracted by the white-hot pleasure that bursts behind your lids at the feeling, Gojo’s easily managing to sneak in yet another finger. A third one that pummels your bruising g-spot just as hard. “Can recite your every lyric. Every fanchant.” The hot crevice of his mouth moves rapidly against your core.
Furiously.
He’s drawing out a saucy pattern with his tongue, one that you’re only later realizing are the strokes to spelling out your stage name.
C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D.
Gojo’s hot tastebuds salivate right down your front, pressing on your clit until you see sparks behind your eyes. “See- see?” There’s an almost crazed look in Gojo’s peripherals, rolling until they were almost nothing but pure white as you clench down on him roughly - and you start to wonder just what you have released. “See, m’your biggest fan- hck! M’your good boy, and this pretty pussy knows it.” He almost sounds pathetic begging between your legs, drooling, drunken. “And- and that’s not all-”
“Satoru, what do you mean that’s not…” Your sentence slowly dissolves in your throat, and with every push of his slimy tongue, you’re realizing just what he’s talking about.
Because instead of the curving ‘C’ that meant he was spelling out your stage name, Gojo was slashing something out. Long, hard lines that edged you closer towards your bliss—
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
“Mmm, you really are my biggest fuh-fan.” You’re somehow managing out, and the only thing you can do right now is grab ahold of Gojo’s hair and let him lavish you with his mouth. “You really love me, Toru?” And you feel him jolt at that cute nickname- “Or do you love my pussy?”
“Both. Both.” Fingers spearheading you so fast at this point that the skin ‘round his mountainous knuckles turns red. Stinging red. Needy red. Just like the strawberry shade of his overworked lips-
Plap! after plap!
And you’re not sure if the sounds are from the way you’re riding his handsome face, or the impact of him banging his fingertips into your deepest insides. “Both both both- fuck, I wanna have you drippin’ down my tongue for forever, my light. Could have you squeezin’ around me like this for ages, mmm, m’fucking obsessed.”
“A reference to my- haaah, to my album?” You question, and you were just so close. You were just so rapidly nudging yourself closer on top of him like this- “But what if you can’t breathe, Toru?”
“I don’t need to-” To which Gojo only grips the side of your ass with his free hand, tugging you down. Jolting you atop him. Manhandling you down further. He scrapes his swabbing fingers even further down your walls, past the spot of your bundle of nerves. “I don’t need to at all. Hah- I don’t need to breathe if I can have you like th-this…”
Your mouth dries of a response, because just then, he’s changing up the pattern of his sizzlin’ tastebuds again.
Long, luscious strokes.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
Your eyes snap wide open, and you’re gasping at the realization of what exactly he was spelling out. “O-oh…” Chin slathering with a waterfall of your spittle, you’re just holding onto him for dear life at his vulgar kisses. “Satoru, I think m’gonna c-cum—”
And you’ve had voice training before, you’ve been used to keeping your voice steady even in the most pressurized of environments- but just then, your tone cracks as you heave your sultry body forwards and cum.
Hot, glistening waves of bliss.
A heat that takes over your body, from your scalp to your toes.
Again and again.
Slight tears prick behind your eyelids as you let Gojo fuck you through your high with his tongue, “Fuck- fuck, you made me cum-” Somehow pinpointing each peak of your orgasm to stick his fingers in for. Thud, thud, thud. “-and I didn’t even expect it.”
“Mmmm—” And you don’t know who was more gone on the fact that you were cumming like this, you or him. Because Gojo was lappin’ away with his thick tongue, slurping. “Tastes so sweet, my light. S’like sugar on my tongue…”
“Oh, you really are pussydrunk.” You whisper, and let his face move back and forth to elongate your euphoria. “Keep going, Toru—h-hah, keep going.”
“Anything for you, ma’am.”
How he loved the way you soaked yourself just a lil’ wetter at the sound of him saying that particular title. How he loved the way you’d flinch and tremble on top of him when he licked you from the tip of your clit and down to the end of your cunt. How he loved the way your high bated to nothing but mere tingles, and you shivered sensitively when he still kept going.
“My orgasm’s over now, Toru—” You hiccup, your tears starting to spill. “You were such a…good boy.”
And that’s when Gojo jolts, his entire body running with a shockwave that made itself obvious even to you. Curiously, you’re peering behind him- before he’s drawing your attention back to the front with a few more plunging pushes of his tongue. “Mmmm, m’your good boy. Your good boy- your good boy.”
G-O-O-D-B-O-Y.
“Mhm—” And when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to wrench himself away anytime soon, you’re bawling. “Fuck- fuck, Satoru m’so sensitive.”
“M’sorry, my light, I just can’t seem to-” Somehow managing to pant through his thorough pushes, it was honestly a wonder that he could even find the time to breathe at this point- with the way he was glued to your puckered pussy. Mouthing out what felt like the most popular lyrics to your songs at this point- “-can’t even seem to stop. It’s like I’m…almost like I’m-”
You flinch when he spits once more, the wad oozing down your slit.
“-addicted.”
You take a goood, long look at Gojo: puffy eyes, bleary vision, his mouth all puffy and raw around your cunt. Nearly every inch of his face was covered in a sappy layer of your slick, and it dripped down to drench your pillow beneath. Like a puddle.
Your cup your hand down from his hair n’ to his cheek, and Gojo practically melts at the touch. You had the distinct thought that if he were a cat, he’d be purring. “But Toru-” Jutting your bottom lip out for emphasis, “I want to give you the same, you know what I mean? S’that alright.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you could step on me and I’d thank you.” He says, before wrenching off of your swollen pussylips with a wettened plop!
A loud, dramatic mwah!
It makes your heart race, and something in Gojo’s tightened trousers twitch. Eagerly, you’re shuffling yourself off of him and sitting on one end of the bed.
Earlier, Gojo had simply ripped off your skirt and panties off- and his flooded mouth drops further with every item of clothing you’re taking off. Until you were completely exposed, and you’re directing him with a finger to do the very same.
“Yes, ma’am-” There’s absolutely no hesitation before his t-shirt (with, tastefully, your face on it as part of your merchandise) comes off. And you’re absolutely shocked- because Gojo wasn’t the trim, lanky figure that you’d expected him to be.
Instead, he was built.
Well-chiselled pecs that made you ache to touch them, leading down with a deep valley to the muscles of his washboard abs. Almost like a ladder. They were decorated only with a few beauty spots, and a line of sparse white hair that led down, down, down.
Gojo’s beefy biceps flex as he then tugs down on the hemline of his pants and boxers, revealing—oh.
He flushes at the intensity of your stare, “Wh-what?” Almost squirming, he just felt so shy by the way his idol was looking at him like you just wanted to tear him apart. Sensually. “Is something not-”
“You’re just so big, Satoru.” You gasp, your eyes never straying from him.
Naturally, your hand reaches out to grab the ninth of his loooong inches, thick and hot in your hold. Glistening with need. His tight balls clenching. He was so hard that every pulsation was visible even from here.
A few veins decorated his shaft, and he was so reddened at the tip, n’ dripped down a stream of milky precum just at the feeling of your palm on him.
Slowly - ever-so-slowly - you start to lower your head…
“Oh.” Gojo pants out a scalding breath. “And that is…good?”
“It’s perfect.”
Gojo’s watching you through partly-cracked eyelids, feeling so hypnotized by the sight of you below him. He raises himself slightly on his haunches with a hiss, the hot air from your mouth kissin’ his tip—it almost- it almost reminded him of the way you’d lean in so close with your microphone.
Lips so soft.
Tongue so talented.
Just gently pressing—
And that’s when Gojo chokes back a needy cry and cums- straight down the front of your pretty, pretty face. In a split-second, you have your tongue filthily dangling out to catch the wads of seed that he was pouring out.
Splat after splat that ended up emptying on your tastebuds.
He’s bucking to let his shaft glissade just further down your tongue- and the mere plush feeling of him only makes his geysering divot spill out more generously.
“Fuck-” Gojo scrunches his azure eyes, head fighting not to throw back and miss a second of the sinful sight below. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I can’t believe I’m…this is all your fault, sweetheart, ngh.” And his abs flex as he starts up a lil’ half-rut to fuck himself through his wave of bliss.
“Mmm—” You’re savoring the salted caramel taste of him, something so sweet about him. Amused, you raise a brow. “I barely even put my mouth on you, and you’re cumming already?”
He’s raising his hands to his blushing face, peeking out through his fingers. “Actually…it’s the second time tonight m’cumming, my light.” As you raise your brows in slight surprise, and flick your eyes to the drenched mess of his boxers. “The haaaah—the first time was when you- you called me your ‘good boy’.”
“Oh.”
Cumming just from eating you out? Now that really made your cunt throb with torturous need, and you’re sliding a hand between your legs to feel for the wetness there.
“Well, then-” A beautiful grin graces your face, and it’s enough to make Gojo’s swollen cock twitch. “-guess you have one more to make up t’me if you’re such a, mm, good boy, huh?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
Before you know it, you’re being splayed out with your back against the bed. The mattress slightly dips as Gojo hovers his muscular weight above you, and he’s gently pushin’ apart your legs, sweat beading on his forehead as he takes in your dripping wet core.
You swear you catch his mouth watering at the sight- “No need to be nervous, Toru. Have you ever done this before?”
He shakes his head, “No, it- it was actually my first time eating you out, too.” Peering up at you with teary eyes, “Did I do good?”
Did he do good?
If that was his first time, you didn’t know what would happen with his second, his third, his tenth. And you’re snapping yourself forcefully out of that little reverie, “Yes- fuck, yes you did so good. Was such a good boy for me.” He grunts, something ruined in it. “Now I need you to be a good boy f’me again, okay? C’mon- put my legs on your shoulder—yeeeees, just like that.”
His muscles shifted underneath your heels, he was just so hulking.
“Now bend, Toru-”
“Bend?”
“Bend.”
And Gojo wanted to prove himself to you, just like before. He wanted to do his very best for you, you, you and only you - even if that meant…manhandling his one and only idol, just a little.
With a primal lurch, Gojo then has your knees pushed all the way up to your tits. “Like this?” Your body bent completely in half, like a lawn chair. “Like this?” And his hips slotting between your legs- in this mean mating press, Gojo’s furious cock stuffs juuuuuust inside- “Like- like-”
Before he’s slouching his head forwards and pushing—
“Fuck-” Gojo’s canines try to sink into his lower lip, before he’s realizing that that won’t hold back his gruff noises and he’s simply keening. Carnal. Baritone.
A thin line of drool starts to splash from the side of his maw, before his entire body bows inwards to yours. Like he was focusing each n’ every ounce of strength into pryin’ aside your swollen folds and squeeeeezing his round, girthy tip inside. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” And then you clench and you can hear the exact moment that the sensation pangs through Gojo’s body, “I think m’gonna cum again- fuck, m’gonna cum again just from this.”
“If you do then I want it allll inside-” You say, looking up into his attractive face - so unintentionally sexy. Gojo was flushing. Rabidly slobbering. His dick aching.
He was so hard that you could feel the prominent outline of each vein, scraping your insides as Gojo tries to push past the slight resistance of your entrance and buck and buck- “Don’t- oh.” He could barely even echo out a coherent thought with your wet pussy wrapped ‘round him like this. “Don’t- fuckin’- talk like that- s’only gonna make it, ngh, worse.”
“But I thought you were my good boy?”
“Fuh-fuck.” Gojo hollows out, with a clouded breath that made it seem as though every ounce of sanity was leaving his body along with it. And at that very second, you feel him spurt out just a single pearly white bead of cum.
It splats! down at the back of your pussy, and makes you shiver at the feeling. Meanwhile, Gojo’s forced to lurch up one of his fists and gnaw down on it to control himself. “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing t’me.” The blood vessels at his neck and temples pop as he somehow stops his dribbling cock from flooding your insides any further. “Didn’t know how fuck- fucking mean ya are, my light.”
“What can I say?” You hum, your hamstrings all sore with the intrusion that was being lodged in your lower half. “You were the criminal that got away- ngh, at my concert.”
“Mhm—?” Still rutting. Just animalistic half-ruts.
“And I want you to fuck me filthily, Toru.”
Oh…at this confession of yours, he grows even bigger inside of your tight channel. The girth of Gojo’s cock swells up, and his sheer length pushes apart your walls, molding them to him-
“Oh- oh my…” There was still a light sheen of your slick on Gojo’s face that he hadn’t been able to greedily lap away, and it’s then - mid-sentence - that you choose to lean yourself closer to him and get a taste.
To which Gojo’s hazed blue eyes snap open- and oh, the look in them makes your legs tighten. Makes them fail- he’s snapping them open in a singular fluid motion, uncaring of the way it exhausts your muscles. Uncaring of the snug stretch-stretch-streeeeetch of your cunt once he’s mazing himself inside. “-my light.” Gojo bites out, “I’ll give you anything you need…”
Just then, your ears ring with a sharp clap!
You’re wondering whether it’s your ears.
You’re wondering whether it’s your heartbeat.
You’re left wondering no longer when you register it’s the slamming impact of Gojo’s toned v-line snapping against your lower half. Bottoming out in one motion, he’s deeply probin’ his rotund tip into the back of your treacly pussy.
Bottoming out? Already?
“And that includes fucking you like the slut you want to be fucked as.”
Oh.
Oh.
It seems that perhaps you’ve broken him.
Because then Gojo’s pounding his rough, ravenous hips into you all the way until his white happy trail scrapes your clit, and the end of his shaft reaches for the back of your throat.
“What the fuck…” He stops as he feels the tender end of your pussy - teary eyes widening. And the first thing out of his mouth is, “Is this real?” In utter, feral disbelief. “There’s no way this is…” Before Gojo’s pinching himself.
He bottoms out a few more times, and each time the look in his eyes grows more distant. Jaw dropping further and further with the pure ecstacy of having his painfully-hard erection surrounded by your soft warmth. “Are you- hck! are you holding up, Toru?”
“Holding up? Holding up?” He almost cackles- octaves higher, almost crazed. He turns to you, “Pinch me.”
“What-”
“Pinch me.”
And so you do - right on the strawberry nubs of his nipples, where he was just so sensitive. Only when the painfully lewd sensation confirms it’s real does he start formulating his sloppy cadence, “Fuck! It doesn’t fucking feel r-real. It can feel like this, sweetheart?” He was rutting his hips impatiently into you like he was trying to fuck the answer out of you. Each n’ every loooong, winding vein glissading down your walls. “N-ngh, she feels like heaven ‘round my cock.”
“Oh yeah—?” Purposefully, you clench. “Like that, Satoru?”
He simply shivers, “Y-yes.” You can feel him thumpin’ away at the goopy back of your pussy, with his circular divot creaming out in pre. “She’s sucking up every inch of me- fuck, huggin’ me so tight. Bet she can feel my veins reeeeeal good, can’t she?” A few slurps as he sloppy fucks his way in, which he takes as an answer. “Mhm, she can.”
And you only clench harder-
“Oh.” He whimpers, “Have mercy.”
“I dunno…” You drag out from the back of your throat, and you have to curl your toes to stop the pleasure from overflowing and interrupting your sentences. “You didn’t have mercy when you ate me out earlier, did you?”
Gojo gasps-
“And when you screamed at my concert, and when you disrupted my fanmeet.” You’re quite enjoying watching him fall apart - head hung, hips stuttering as he struggles to hold himself back. You wonder just what might happen if you made this handsome virgin Gojo…break. “So why should I show you- ngh, mercy?”
“Please- oh, what are you—”
Whatever Gojo was going to say is immediately derailed by the casual way you’re hiking up a hand to your stomach. Pressing dooooown just as his throbbing length was sinking in, “Filthier, Toru.”
And that’s when something in your favorite fanboy - in Gojo Satoru - snaps.
That’s when your positions shift.
His sap dribbles down n’ overflows just like the way your steaming tastebuds do, and your teeth clench after every one of his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Just like you’d said, he was thwacking his aching hot cock into you so hard that the curve of his ballsack was swatting your cunt. Slowly, you’re growing more and more hypnotized by his roverin’ dick stuffing every ounce inside you full. “Just like that- hah-” Arms wobbling, you struggle to reach ‘round Gojo’s shoulders. “Oh- just like that-”
“Just like that?” He asks, oh-so-kindly. And you almost feel a glimmer of hope for your poor body when Gojo gently tugs your arms around his shoulders. Letting you grab onto his deltoids-
“But I don’t think s’filthy enough, my light.”
Oh…so you were mistaken.
“Filthier, you said?” He repeats your words from earlier, fully channeling his energy to swabbin’ every point of your cunt. Gojo feels your legs slipping, and he’s reaching a hand behind his neck to pin your ankles together - locking them in place. “Look-” Other hand thumbing between your puffy pussylips, “Look, she wants it harder- faster, too. She’s practically flooding out and begging for it.”
“Oh my god-” Your pillow is drenched in a layer of your spittle by now, and your back arches. “Keep- keep going.”
“Keep going? But I wanna go even filthier, sweetheart.” That familiar pout of his makes an appearance, though there was something much more…sleazy about it this time.
Your nails dig into the plush mountains of his muscles, shifting underneath your touch each time he’s reeling his body back. Back, back, back. Gojo was putting his entire frame to work - not just his hips - each time he’s shovelling his cock into you.
And the extra pressure makes the rounded crown of his shaft embed deep into your cervix, leaving a bruise there that acts as the perfect target for the next slam. And the next. And the next. “Please-” You’re gasping out, sobs bubbling in your throat. “Please please please- please, and how are you gonna be even filthier?”
“Like this.” Just to prove his point, his free hand tilts open your chin and spits straight in your mouth. And without wasting a second longer, Gojo spanks that very hand back down on your hips to keep you from running. “Aaaand—”
Instead, he’s using his strength to pliably jerk you back down. Hissing between your parted lips, “Like this.” He’s bubbling up even more saliva- this time, down your slippery slit. That hand of his on your hip reaches over, and with the forefront curve of his thumb, Gojo’s smearin’ the wad of saliva on top of your pussy. Pressing down on your clit- “Because m’just your pathetic fanboy, my light, listening to- ngh, every word you say. So when you say filthy, m’only gonna go filthier.”
You almost don’t want to dare to ask, “And h-how will you make this…even filthier?”
But you knew he wanted you to.
You knew he was just dying to fuck the words out of you.
Gojo’s plastering a sleazy smirk across his face, and it damn near looks downright blasphemous with the layer of syrup on his features. “I h-have an idea or two…”
He’s not telling you what the idea is, he’s showing it to you - with his fingers twisting on top of your clit to spell out some of the very words he’d spelled out with his tongue earlier.
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
Furiously, your body thrashes at the mercy of his clutches. Gojo was holding you down ruthlessly, a mean expression taking over his face when he finds out that he can simply pin you down and make that glistening hole of yours take it.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
All those zaps of pleasure that you loved so much, that you were moaning so much at. You’re so cockdrunken by this point that spittle sloshes ‘round inside your mouth- and Gojo only leans over to lick off the drivels of it escaping your mouth.
<3
Just in time to crash his lips into your when you cum.
“C-cumming.” You’re gasping out, almost in disbelief at the sheer strength of the orgasm that was flooding your entire body. Bucking back into his thrusts, “So much- it’s- it’s so much, fuck.”
“Yes-” Gojo growls, slightly breathless at the fact that this was you—and you were cumming ‘round his cock, suctioning every tender ridge on his shaft, fully fucking yourself through the complete waves of your high.
Bliss upon euphoria.
If you thought that your orgasm was incredible earlier, then you weren’t ready for this one. It simply takes over every part of you, until it felt like your nerves were fried with the sensation.
He stops pinning you down any longer, letting you bounce your hips back into his to your heart’s content. “That’s right, use me.” Gojo’s fingers are but a blur on your clit, “Use me to ride your high- fuck, use me as much as sh-she wants. Let me feel every inch of you squeezin’ around me-”
“I can’t be the only one.” Despite the pangs of your bliss, you somehow manage to blink away your tears to gaze up at him. With a hand fisted in Gojo’s perspired hair, you’re pulling him in reeeeal close, “Want you to cum insi- oh, fuck.”
You don’t even have to finish your sentence.
You don’t even have to finish your thought.
Because the moment that Gojo realizes what you’re trying to say to him, the bawling divot at the end of his shaft pours out white-hot cum. Heard throwing back. Chiselled body bowing into yours. Voice straining with a call of your name.
It’s just the creamiest texture, it polishes a layer of white on your cervix and along your walls until the syrup froths outside.
Gasping, Gojo brushes his thumb between your folds and plugs up your leaking hole. Overspilling. So many webbed layers were seeping out of you, and he was taking the time to push every ounce of it back inside- “Fuck.” He whispers, thickly. “Fucking hell.”
“S’all inside, Satoru.” You mewl, gliding your hand up and down your front. “I can feel it splashin’ around inside-”
“Don’t say that- don’t- fucking say that-” He just barely chokes out- before one of Gojo’s hands lets go of your ankles to actually squeeze that pretty neck of yours, so perfect in his grip. “Don’t say that or m’gonna…”
“Or what?”
“Or m’gonna cum again-”
“Can feel it alllllll up inside.” You continue, despite the lecherous tightening at your throat. And Gojo has to listen on in pure agony as that voice he loves so much continues on—“Honestly- at this rate, you might just get me- ngh, pregnant, Toru.”
And that does it- he’s splurging out his dewy wet wads all over again. It seeps a layer of white into your glossy insides, making every thrust of his slippery.
With a slight whimper, he doesn’t waste time fucking those droplets of cum inside even if it aches him with sensitivity. The reddened tip of his cock twitches, and Gojo’s balls nuzzle the forefront of your cunt, already sucked dry with nothing more to give-
“You kn-know-” When Gojo speaks, it almost sounds like he’s crying- oh. Something hot and wet drips from his eyes, he actually was crying in overstimulation.
The texture of your cunt leaving him red n’ raw, but even then he’s way too addicted to try and bring himself to stop. Moaning, “-I did say something about you st-stepping on me, my light.”
Your brows raise.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
.
.
.
It’s almost a year later when Gojo posts:
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.
@Fushidaddy1008 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmfao as if anyone would bang you
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1008: Ahhh, my wife would bang me~! ＼(≧▽≦)／ Also blocked (*≧ω≦*)
@Fushidaddy1009 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: wife?? lmfao i thought Cupid was your wife?? youre saying you banged Cupid??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1009: Exactly~! Blocked (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
@thestrongestfanboy: I would let her step on me (and HAVEEEEE) <(￣︶￣)>
@thestrongestfanboy: Does anyone have that meme of the guy shooting a basketball from the moon and actually making the basket???
@thestrongestfanboy: I’M IN LOVE.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro do you gen need your meds or…
@Shokomedical replying to @DigiGeto: I’ve prescribed all he needs, idk how but it’s gotten worse since that concert last year.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Happy for you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@thestrongestfanboy: MY BEAUTIFUL WIIIIIIFE~! ٩(♡ε♡)۶
And then came the disaster, perhaps. Because he’d meant to attach a completely innocent picture of you from your last show, he’d meant to post something that would have been inconspicuous with everything else that your fansites were posting.
But this is Gojo - and that’s obviously not what happened.
Attached to that aforementioned tweet was a picture of none other than Gojo Satou and you. Not from a concert. Not from afar. In the flesh, in nothing but a soft blanket covering your most intimate parts, clearly bitten all over and sex-hazed.
You were raising a digital camera up, your smile peaking through its edge as if you were taking a picture of a picture. And Gojo himself was in the corner - bitten, marked, a dopey smile and just as ruined, as sex-rumpled as you were, shirtless.
The first night.
How damning.
In the split-second that the photo had been up, it spread across stan Twitter like wildfire. And all of Gojo’s subsequent tweets had upwards of 1M+ views just because of it.
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DIVA DOWN DIVA DOWN
@thestrongestfanboy: I DIDN’T MEAN TO POST THAT PLEASE FORGET ABOUT IT.
@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro actually….did it? The fanboy actually did what every delulu stan hopes to do??
@gggggnarly replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU HOOKED UP WITH QUEEN CUPID?!
@hearts2hurts replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I fear I, again, can’t send hate because this is impressive ngl.
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i know this is a marketing stunt i just cant prove it (uta give me a chance pls)
@lovelicky replying to @thestrongestfanboy: PARASOCIALISM WORKED??
@yuuthebaddie replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU GOT THE HUZZ??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I GOT THE HUZZ!! („ಡωಡ„)
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DELETE-
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Satoru what the fuck
@Shokomedical replying to @thestrongestfanboy: SATORU WHAT THE FUCK
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I always knew the day would come!! Congratulations, Gojo-senpai ^.^
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: What did I miss?? Do I need to make a new thread??
@Fushidaddy2067 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: thats it siri play chasing pavements.
And that’s when it spreads outside of your fandom, first to the celebrity news outlets, and then everyone else. Soon enough, BuzzFeed, TMZ, Pannchoa were all tripping over themselves to be the first to report and interview on the subject. Personally, you knew that Dispatch was foaming at the mouth to drop the annual bombshell with all the sordid details.
TRENDING ON TWITTER:
#CUPIDPICTURE
#CUPIDDATING
#THESTRONGESTFANBOY
#DELULUISTHETRULULU
#HEGOTTHEHUZZ??
#LFORFUSHIDADDY
@CupidManagement: As a company, we do not interfere in the private lives of our artists and we kindly ask everyone to stop spreading any malicious rumors. We wish all the best to Cupid, and her relationship going forward.
And you?
@CupidOfficial: Ahhh might be as great a time as ever to announce that my new album, Stargirl, will be out on all platforms November 28th!! Here’s the cover art, hope you love it (and a special thank you to the special boy that made it happen) <33
On the cover, a picture of Gojo.
Not as you’d seen him in the bedroom, of course. It’d been exciting work to get to the studio, to don him in the most ethereal flowy whites, to place him in the midst of a blank background and stud his hair with roses, to bathe him in a dreamy light. It was almost hazy. In the picture, his face was turned away but he was staring into the camera- and…perhaps past it.
Right where you’d been, directing him.
With such a loving glimmering in his eyes that it made one almost shy to directly at it.
Your vision had some to life.
It quickly racks up a comfortable million plus views on Twitter, and you quietly shut off your phone as the notifications keep beeping. Instead, snuggling up to Gojo right back in your penthouse, right beside you (not before you give him a lecture on double-checking the pictures he posts, of course.)
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.
.
.
.
@MnetIdolAcademy: ANNOUNCING THE OFFICIAL DEBUT LINE, CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR RISING GLOBAL STARS!
[GLOBAL VOTE FINAL RESULTS]
RANK #1—Cupid
(Read more)
.
.
.
And he did.
From his phone, his laptop, his mother’s phone, his father’s phone- Geto’s phone, Shoko’s phone (where he found a copy of the last test paper’s marking scheme—he knew that little con-woman cheated, he feared for her future patients). Until, ultimately, you did win the competition.
Just as he’d wanted you to.
And Ijichi as well, he supposes. But he is younger (at least, visibly) and more beautiful - therefore Gojo thinks it should count more.
And so you swept every award in the reality competition, and snagged center spot in every headline, concert, and fan account that was ready to feature the freshly-minted popstar.
Almost two years later, by the time that your official debut had come ‘round with a hit single and an album that was climbing the charts, he’d just entered his first year in university. And by then, practically everyone in his life knew by now that he was a sort of…stan. Gojo accepted the title begrudgingly, after Geto and Shoko had walked into his newly-acquired dorm room one day and found every inch of his walls covered in your posters. There was a life-sized cardboard cut-out of you underneath his bed, too, but thankfully they hadn’t found that yet.
Geto threatened to strangle him until he took down the posters of you on his side of the room, at least. They were sharing, after all.
The room was appreciated on stan Twitter, at least. His latest post about it racked up a solid 992.1k views.
@thestrongestfanboy: New room pic!! Can u guess my ultimate bias, bet u can’t^^ \(★ω★)/
Attached was a picture that he’d forgone every single rule and regulation about internet safety to post: from the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, to the cardboard cut-out of you, to the plushie of your cupid character, to the American flag with your face on it (why always the American flag for these things, he wasn’t sure), to the rare photocards that he was holding up for the camera. It was a shrine.
The replies…not so much.
@pinkillit: Lemme guess…Cupid? Lol so real, I luv her too!
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @pinkillit: Well I love her more than u so…(￢_￢;)
@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Damn
@gggggnarly: WOAH??
@hearts2hurts: I can’t even send hate, this is impressive ngl.
@utahimeslefttoe: need to do this with my bias
@lovelicky: Parasocialism, who?
@yuuthebaddie: You scare the huzz
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I don’t need the huzz when I have my queen #thearrowhitme (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)
@Fushidaddy7 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: kinda wish I could hit you rn too #fakefan
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy7: ??? Blocked.
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Don’t u think it’s kinda problematic to be pushing 40 and arguing with minors online?
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: youre 19 tf are you talking about?? and also because you claim the arrow hit you, but you don’t even have her rare “First Love, First Kiss” photocard. youre no better than a local lol.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: U seriously think ur a bigger fan than me? I was there since even before our girl debuted. Lmao.
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i was there before she even entered the show- and yes. i am.
That particular scathing reply wasn’t over with just that, and Gojo had realized - clicking on the notification, to his slowly-growing horror - that it would be accompanied by a picture, as well. A snapshot to a room that looked much like his own.
From the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, a selfie with you at a rookie fanmeet before (dammit) you’d entered the competition, the cardboard cut-outs, the plushies, the flags, the rare photocards. And yes…the ultra-rare ‘First Love, First Kiss’ photocard that he’d last heard went for a comfortable few hundred dollars on the market.
With you costumed like a sweet, sweet cupid.
Sparkling eyes. Angel wings. Holding up the second button from the top of a school uniform - a symbol of confession in Japan - as if you were confessing to someone.
To him.
Gojo’s giggling stupidly and kicking his feet on the bed as he zooms in on the picture, taking in your picture on the photocard- before his phone buzzes with yet another Twitter notification and his heart plummets as he realizes just whose room this is. Fushidaddy8 himself could be seen reflected on the lone mirror in the room: scarred lips smirking, his beefy arms raised in a flex, biceps the size of Gojo’s head—
@pinkillit: He kinda ate you up ngl.
Ignoring that, he responded to the aforementioned perpetrator.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Well I’m going to marry her!! Hope that helps!! ╮(︶▽︶)╭
@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: delulu really isn’t the trululu kid
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: That trend’s dead, unc.
Though he did slide into the other man’s direct messages right after that, in the hopes of buying out the exclusive photocard from him.
He was laughed all the way out of his direct messages.
Gojo Satoru did several things next.
He blocked (and reported) @Fushidaddy8.
He subscribed for a gym membership.
He dragged Geto out of their shared dorm room (sleep-deprived and grumbling at the 3:41AM on the clock, bound to miss the important physics exam that day…semantics, heh) as moral support on his trek to the post office. Where, when his best friend shivered at the cold early morning and questioned just what and to whom were they mailing, Gojo had answered-
“Oh, just my second button.” The very same one that he’d kept safely since their graduation from high school a few months ago - because, see, Gojo Satoru wasn’t the type to fall in love.
He wasn’t the type to confess.
Though, he did get confessed to more times that he could count (he was perhaps the second most popular bachelor on campus, right after Geto - but even that was a highly-debated ranking of first and second). He just never found the one.
That is…
Gojo beams, plastering on a few stamps on the cardboard box- much too big for but a single button. In it, he poured his feelings—corny, yes. But true. “I’m going to send it to my girl, Cupid-”
Geto punches him before he can finish.
@thestrongestfanboy: The lion does not concern himself with the pain that comes with #truelove, even if he cried a little ☆⌒(> _ <)
@Fushidaddy9 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmao loser.
Just a few months later, another one of your limited edition photocards was released: the “Said Yes!!” photocard that sold out instantly. Just the cutest photo of you receiving a second button in confession, your expression one of pleasant surprise.
No one believed Gojo when they told them that the button was his.
He bought five.
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@BuzzFeed: Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who’s The Biggest Fanboy of Them All? Cupid’s Fandom Compare Notes on Fanboy Shrines and 35 Other Delulu Stan Happenings This Week.
(Read more on buzzfeed.com)
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Gojo Satoru had bought 67 albums.
67…heh.
Sixty-seven different copies of the very same album—yours.
Sixty-seven different copies of the latest addition in your platinum-reaching, Grammy award-winning discography: the ‘Obsession’ album.
Of course, they’re all yours. Because who else would have such banger songs that he wouldn’t mind replaying over and over again until Geto threatened to smash the damn things? Who else would have exclusive photocards so cute stuffed into the crevices of said albums, that he just had to collect them all? Who else would host a fancall event that he simply had to put a dent in his sizable bank account to win?
It was somewhat of a lottery system, and Gojo’s sure he’d funded his local record store for a few months at least with how much he’d cashed out there.
He’d been up bright n’ early on the day your album hit the stores - camping outside with a few avid others of your fandom (though, proudly, he’d been the first one there). Rushing with the rest to buy up your album, your merch, and with it…a chance to see you.
Every album bought was an entry into the raffle that’d grant them a chance to see you.
Just a few minutes of your time through the screen, and even that was like looking through the pearly gates of heaven in Gojo’s eyes. He’d dreamt about it, he’d manifested it, he’d tweeted about it so many times on his private account that everyone but Haibara had blocked him on.
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I’M 22 NOW SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT (ಥ﹏ಥ)
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: LORD KNOWS IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I believe in you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@Fushidaddy27 replying to @HiByeRawr: dont
@thestrongestfanboyPRIV replying to @Fushidaddy27: How did u even get here??
And so, the wait had dragged on with a few more accounts blocked.
Until, finally, one day Gojo had been simply scrolling through his emails as he usually did. A few updates from Canvas on his assignment grades. A few A+’s. An email from Geto with nothing but one of those old pictures from Yaga’s abstract dance classes attached. A few more A+’s. An email from the record store saying he won the fancall event. Yet another picture of Yaga-
His heart had damn near stopped.
Actually- Gojo doesn’t think he was even breathing as he hurriedly scrolled back and clicked open the email from the record store. He reads the very first word—
“Congratulations…”
And that’s all he needs to stand up and cheer-
“Shhhh—!” The cryptid-like elderly librarian, Gakuganji, shushes him from just a few tables away. A glare so intense that it makes Gojo sit back down in his seat in an instant, ducking back down to stare at his phone screen.
Heart thundering. Fingers trembling. “Oh my god…” He whispers to himself, knees bouncing underneath the mahogany table as he’s clicking on the link embedded into the email.
It takes him to the official site of your management, where the list of winners had been announced on one page dedicated especially to you. And there - right at the very top - his name.
Gojo Satoru.
Censored, yes. But he could read it well enough - it was only confirmation of what he already knew through the email.
And as Gojo tries to tame his giddy elation inside the library, he forgoes those revision papers of his to instead tap away at his phone. First, he texts his parents. Then he texts his friends. Then he emails Nanamin (also one of his friends, but the man had him blocked everywhere else…)- and just as he caught sight of that winner’s email again, Gojo squeals—
“Out of my library!”
Later, Gojo Satoru was added to the campus library Wall of Shame (and Nuisances).
But he didn’t care.
Not one single bit.
@thestrongestfanboy: About to meet my future wife- how do I look? (￣▽￣*)ゞ
Attached was a selfie of him making your signature bow-and-arrow pose a few days later.
He was well-fitted in his best dress shirt that hugged his toned waist. Cologne practically palpable through the screen. Soft white bangs tamed. Donning a silver chain. False glasses on because he heard in one of your latest interviews that you liked nerds.
Cheeks rosy.
“Bro, isn’t the call for like two minutes?” Geto grumbles from his bed on the other side of the room. Their cramped dorm was already small enough without the other pacing every inch of it in nervousness.
Gojo whips around with a snarl, “No, for your information it’s actually two and a half minutes.”
Geto squints, “Right…” Before he raises his nose into the air and sniffs—“And god- what is that awful fucking smell?”
“You don’t like it?” His best friend asks innocently, “It’s my cologne.”
“There’s no way your cologne smells like that?” The dark-haired man gapes, leaning back in his bed as he covers his nostrils with a palm.
Geto already has his answer by the way that Gojo starts to squirm. “Well…I may have also added in a bit of your cologne, too…”
“…”
“And Nanamin’s.”
“…”
“And Shoko’s-”
“What the fuck, Satoru?” Geto slaps a hand over his forehead, in the way he much seemed to do when it came to an antic that Gojo did without his consultation (he means, c’mon, if they were to be dumb fucks then they should be dumb fucks together).
But this was too far even for him.
And Geto only sighs before he’s reaching for his heavy headphones, placing the cushioned device on top of his head. “After this, we’re taking you out to touch grass, man.” He opens his phone to something and blocks out Gojo’s whining protests with it. “I’m serious.”
“And I’m serious when I say you better not fuck this up for me, Suguru.” Gojo stabs an accusing finger at his best friend, while his other hand reaches for his own phone - the scheduled time for your video call was nearing. “Keep yourself scarce when she calls me.”
“Mhm, whatever you say.”
“Because she’s my future wife-”
“Crazy story, bro.”
With Geto not even close to responsive any longer, Gojo huffs as he looks through his notifications-
@Fushidaddy31: YOURE SO CHOPPED LMFAOOOOOOOO
Nevermind.
Instead, he waits in front of his desk. Phone propped up. Earbuds plugged in. Back straight against his chair. More formal and elegant than he had in any of his other meetings or lectures before.
He turns off his notifications and opens up the app that management had directed him to through emails. Pressing on the screen record button, Gojo’s stomach turns as a staff member performs an ID check before the call.
And then it starts.
Your beautiful, beautiful face pops up on the screen.
Those eyes. That smile. The voice that says, “Hello?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Gojo’s heart drops to his stomach then takes a high-speed elevator right back up to his throat, he can feel the ba-dump! of it there. And later - years and years later - he’ll be able to cringe at the way that his naturally deep voice broke- “H-he-”
Before your face pauses.
It freezes.
And suddenly the call ends.
wait…Gojo taps on his Wi-Fi…he taps on his data…he taps on anything and everything that might make a difference. And yet, nothing ever does. Gojo immediately throws down his earphones on his desk and stands- so fast that his chair topples over—“Suguru!”
The dark-haired man jolts in his bed, turning over at the shriek with his brows scrunched in confusion. Seeing the state his best friend was in, he raises his phone as a shield. “What?”
“Don’t what me- don’t- you- you—” So enraged that he couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. Face red. Veins popping on his neck. The only way that Geto manages to even slightly discern what the other man may be talking about is by the way he points at his phone, the shared Wi-Fi router, then his phone.
Geto’s mouth drops, “Ah…” And he catches sight of the orange, blinking right on the router that told the both of them that the day’s data has been finished. He looks at his phone…with the absolutely massive update that had just completed. “In my defense, Love and Deepspace had an update-”
“Suguru, I’m going to kill you.”
Ultimately, no amount of begging or crying to attempting to throttle Geto could reverse the fact that Gojo had won a fancall…and missed it.
All because of his Wi-Fi.
“There there, man.” Geto pats his friend - draped across his bed with his face in his hands - on the back. “At least the new event loaded- it’s an idol event, and I’ll let you play it with Sylus-”
Gojo only sobs louder.
“And then after that, we’ll actually go touch grass. How about that?”
@thestrongestfanboy: Nothing beats a Jet2 holiday to HELL. @DigiGeto ur going to HELL.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Mb
@Fushidaddy32: rare aesthetic: fancall with #her n made her do the coldplay kiss cam trend with me heh
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy32: Blocked.
@Fushidaddy32 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??
@CupidOfficial: So glad to be able to talk with my lovely fans during the fancall event today!! Thank you to everyone that attended, and even those that didn’t attend heheh…I see you, and I love you <33
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@Variety: This week’s cover story:
Global Superstar Cupid: On Stardom, Surprises of Fame, and the Undying Support of her Fans (“There was actually this funny story with a fan that froze—”)
(see page 9…)
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Gojo Satoru was on cloud nine.
Gojo Satoru was in heaven.
Gojo Satoru was going to meet his wife.
Everywhere he looked, he could see that beautiful face of yours.
From the floor-to-ceiling posters against the stark white walls, to the stalls upon stalls of merchandise that featured you, to the rows upon rows of people wearing t-shirts with your face on it. Posters. Plushies. Bow-and-arrow lights. Everything that his heart could ever yearn for.
And that included you.
And no- Gojo hadn’t died and gone to heaven (evidenced by the way that no matter how many times he pinched himself, it still bruised). Don’t be silly! He was simply at a place that was rather similar, he imagines.
A fanmeet.
Where the excitement was palpable, and everyone here had arrived with the same goal in mind - to spend just a few precious moments with you in person.
In person!
Geto was the one that’d snagged him the ticket to this event, to make up for the rather tragic incident with the fan call two years ago. And so here he was, at your first-ever fanmeet in Tokyo. Gojo vibrated on the balls of his feet, and with his towering height he could make out just a few more meters until he managed to see you up-close.
He held one of his most prized possessions - your first poster from Idol Academy, the one that Ijichi had gifted him so many years ago - to his chest and sighed. In less than an hour, he’d have it signed. In less than an hour, he’d get to hold your hand.
In less than an hour, he’d get to see you.
There was a part of him that felt like it was tugging towards you already- and Gojo has to bounce himself slightly to find a way to channel the adrenaline.
It’d been quite the arduous journey to get to here, and he didn’t want to make a single mistake now - all the albums he’d bought, all the pictures from your latest fanmeets that he’d fawned over, all the stan Twitter fights.
Honestly, just today he’d gotten into it with some delusional loser online (@urmomstype) that’d been spreading rumors about you being…particularly close with the famed actor you had in your newest music video. Gojo shudders as he thinks back to it:
@urmomstype: A thread of all the PROOFS that #Cupid is dating the hottest k-drama actor right now—
Inside was some amalgamated mess of pictures of ‘shared couples items’ (half the population owned that shit, c’mon, that actor was far from special) and coded messages that apparently littered your social media. By the end of it, the user had been self-assured, a few other misogynistic antis were spouting hate, and Gojo was furious.
He’d typed away so fast that his thumbs were nothing but a blur.
@thestrongestfanboy: U call this proof?? Holy fucking airball lmao (￣ヘ￣)
@thestrongestfanboy: Bozo
@thestrongestfanboy: Ratio + L + my fav is better than ur fav
@thestrongestfanboy: She isn’t dating anyone BOZO!! Even if she was (which she isn’t) it’s none of ur business and ur a loser so go back to doing loser things. I bet ur an anti from that one other agency…凸(`△´＃)
@Fushidaddy89 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: yk for once i agree with you
@urmomstype replying to @Fushidaddy89: Why are two uncs replying to me…arguing with a minor btw.
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @urmomstype: With this gift I summon-
It had lasted a few hours (and that was on the shorter end of the stick). Until, ultimately, Geto and Shoko had pulled his phone away from his face (he was defending your honor!) and reminded him that there were much more important things on the horizon.
Namely, you…
Besides, he was glad to get away from the epic highs and lows of high school football stan Twitter. He was glad not to have to fight with what was likely some middle-aged, parasocial man there over you. He was glad not to get into futile shipping wars that-
“Do you think her actor boyfriend will be here?”
An agitating, grating voice breaks through his thoughts (really, it was the squeaky voice of a child), and Gojo’s immediately whipping his head down, down, down behind him.
It was a buzzcut boy, wearing a t-shirt with your face and a pair of soft feathery wings that was sold as one of your exclusive merchandise—and yet…those angelic appendages still wasn’t enough to hide the mischief in his face.
Gojo stares at him.
And he stares at Gojo.
“You.”
“You.”
As his blonde-haired guardian looks on in slight shock, Gojo stabs an index his way- “User urmomstype?”
“User thestrongestfanboy.” He then points at himself, “But you can call me Todo Aoi.” And before the older man can begin to sputter again, he raises a small palm to silence him (and why was Gojo being silenced by what looked like an eight-year-old?) “I already know who you are, Gojo Satoru. You’re infamous inside the fandom, y’know?”
He gapes, “I am?”
“Mhm.”
Before he starts twirling the curls of white at the base of his neck, Todo stares in bewilderment as the taller man starts squirming. “So like…d’you think that means there’s a chance she’d notice me, too?”
“…”
“…”
“F-forget that-”
“You really think you can pull fine shyt?” Todo squints up at Gojo, and then down at the sheer amount of merchandise he was draped in. “You’re chopped with a negative aura that no amount of aura farming could possibly replenish, brother. Your eyes are built like a 24k labubu. If you were a meal, even Fanum wouldn’t ask for tax. Even I’d win a mid-off against you. I hate to break it to you but she’s much better off with that actor-”
“Don’t think that just because you’re speaking in brainrot terms I don’t understand you- I’m brainrotted, too.” Seething, “And they’re not even dating-”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Definitely not!”
The little boy nods, sagely. “Still got the views for the music video, didn’t I? And what did you do? Whine about how you weren’t married to her yet?”
And to that he doesn’t have much to say, “Well…”
The blonde-haired woman that’d been holding Todo back finally announces her presence, “Hi there- apologies. My name’s Yuki.” She reached out her hand, and they shook - with Gojo dazed by the absolute demolishment of his character. “I’ve warned him about his ah- ragebaiting issue…it’s a work-in-progress.”
“I-I see…” Gojo breathes, looking back at the line - just a little longer and he’d be out of here. Just a little longer and he’d get to see you—“One question, I’m not actually chopped, am I?”
As Todo whispers the definition to Yuki, she shakes her head happily. “Oh, not at all! You’re not exactly my type, but trust that you’re quite the handsome character.”
“Handsome enough to pull my wife?” At her visible confusion, he jerks his head where your figure was seated at a black-clothed table, signing posters and making conversation with your line of fans. Oh- how perfect you were.
“O-oh! Her?” A line of sweat beads at her temple, “Well, why not?”
Gojo - quite maturely - sticks his tongue out at Todo.
But the boy only replies, “You look like you wear wigs.”
Gojo self-consciously runs a hand through his soft white hair, “I-I don’t!” He did take particularly good care of his hair.
“Do you wear wigs?”
“No, I do not-”
“Have you worn wigs?”
“No, I have not-”
“Will you wear wigs?”
“…Maybe?!”
“When will you wear wigs-”
“Please!”
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to step out.” A gruff, masculine voice speaks out from beside him- and it didn’t match Todo’s probing voice. Not at all. Gojo turns his surprised head around and finds himself face-to-face with a stony-faced man.
As tall as him. Even beefier. With shades that reflected his own widened blue eyes.
His jaw drops, “Wh-what…”
The security guard gestures to Todo, and then towards the door with the ‘Exit’ sign. “For your disruption, we’re going to have to ask you to step out of the premises.” He cracks his knuckles, “Or you shall be escorted out.”
“No-” Gojo’s gasping, looking around for an answer. “No no no no- disruption? What disruption?”
“Arguments with a child-”
“That lil’ shit deserved it—” Gojo whines out, before realizing that that likely didn’t help his case. “I-I mean-” He’s gesturing to the boy that was clearly not disrupted in any sense of the word, “-look at him! He’s completely fine! In fact, I’m the one emotionally scarred.”
The other two also start to protest this course of action, and the security guard stays silent for a beat, and lets the counterargument sink in…
Before he raises his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “We’re having some resistance here, I request back-up at the front of the line.”
“No no no-” He was just a meter away - a meter. “No, wait- please no.” And by now, the other fans were starting to point and stare at him now. At the way he was panicking. At the way he was trying to inch himself closer to the signing event. At the way he was so close to you- and yet, so far, with two burly security guards that clapped their hands down on his shoulders and dragged him away by his arms.
All the way to the exit.
As you stared.
“NOOOOOOO—!”
@thestrongestfanboy: I’m gonna be honest, kitten, daddy’s about to kill himself ٩(× ×)۶
@Fushidaddy103 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i saw the video youre trending on tiktok lmaooooo
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: F in the chat
@pinkillit replying to @urmomstype: F
@hearts2hurts replying to @urmomstype: F
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @urmomstype: F
@lovelicky replying to @urmomstype: F
@CupidOfficial: Tokyo, oh Tokyo~
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TRENDING ON TIKTOK:
#Cupidfanmeet
#thatonecrazyguy
#thestrongestfanboy
#Cupiddatingrumors
#Cupidbemywife
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This was it.
This was Gojo’s last chance.
He hadn’t won a fancall since that one time (no matter how many albums he bought, the universe just wasn’t on his side), he’d been barred from your Tokyo fanmeet, he’d been known as that one delusional fanboy in your fandom.
Which was honestly fine. Gojo was fine.
He was completely and utterly fine-
“OHMYGODSUGURUI’MSOCLOSEITHINKICANSEEHERICANSEEHER-” Gojo yelled in Geto’s ear, over the roaring crowd that was most likely saying the same thing he was. He shook the man, and then proceeded to shake his other best friend standing right beside him. “YOUGUYSARETHEBESTANDILOVEYOUANDYOU’LLBETHEBESTMANANDBESTWOMANAND-”
“Not if I kill you right now.” Shoko mutters, punching Gojo right in the stomach so he’d shut up for the first time in the past few hours. She takes a puff of her cigarette, even though the stadium had a strict no smoking policy.
She needed it.
She deserved it.
Though, she supposed that there was no one to blame but herself.
It was obvious the toll that all the failed fancalls and fanmeets had taken on Gojo. And while she couldn’t quite understand the sheer ahem- delusion that came with it, she knew that this was something important to him. And Geto did, too.
Which was why, with the power of social media, the duo had reached out to that ‘urmomstype’ boy and his blonde-haired guardian. Apparently, even after Gojo had been escorted his merry way outside, the two had tried to overturn the decision, explaining that it’d all just been some silly banter and there really wasn’t anything to remove him over. ‘He might be chopped and unc, but he’s still a goat. Sorta.’ The boy had said, whatever that means…
But, alas, the security guard had been stubborn.
And so, the four - Shoko, Geto, Yuki, and Todo (yes, even Todo) - had wanted to make it up to Gojo in a different way. Despite not being able to attend the fanmeet, you still had your upcoming concert in the famous Tokyo Dome.
They’d stayed up all night on the phone trying out every connection they had to somehow get a few extra tickets.
All night.
There had to be something, right?
Until - finally, finally - Yuki managed to get in contact with Gakuganji (yes, their ol’ campus librarian), who managed to get in contact with Yaga (yes, their ol’ high school principal), who managed to get in contact with one of his other friends that knew someone on your staff team. And through a rollercoaster of contacts, they somehow managed to snag a few seats.
Front row.
Gojo had burst into tears the moment he read that pink slip of paper with your name in bold, surrounded by hearts. He’d crushed them all to him, so tight that Shoko wondered whether her bones might break, and whispered. “You guys are definitely invited to my wedding.”
And if her heart melted just a little bit then, well…she didn’t mention it.
Now, however, she’d no sooner be invited to Gojo Satoru’s funeral than his alleged wedding. To their own fortune, Yuki and Todo had been assigned places a few seats down. A weary Geto on the other side of their white-haired friend reaches his hands out towards her. “Cigarette, please.”
Shoko raises a brown brow, “You don’t even smoke?”
“I’m about to start.”
“You guuuuys—” Gojo drags on, as the opening notes of your album start to ring out on the speakers. He shoots his hands out to grab Shoko- and when she ducks, he shoots his hands out to grab Geto- and when he groans, Gojo only sways them in the air. “It’s about to start- she’s about to come on stage- oh my god, oh my god my wife’s about to come on stage-”
“She’ll be your ex-wife if you don’t calm the fuck down.” Geto can’t help but laugh. Shoko looks on in confusion as he moves in synchronization with Gojo to the first few dance moves of your routine. Geto answers her unspoken question, “What? He played it all the time in our dorm, I could recite every lyric and move in my sleep by now.”
“M-me too.” And as your silhouette starts to become projected on the screen behind you, Gojo’s starting to tear up. Large, bulbous tears of emotion.
They were both dancing in unison now.
Crying (Gojo, at least).
Shoko shakes her head with a chuckle of her own. “Idiots.”
And then you saunter your way onto stage and Shoko (as well as everyone in a five-mile radius) feels their eardrums stop working.
@thestrongestfanboy: I wasn’t just another screaming boy…I challenged her stare down…she saw me. She pointed—twice. And if u think I’m done? Let’s see if the wolf can find his prey again…good luck…(^人<)〜☆
Attached was a video taken from the concert - more girlish screaming (Gojo’s) than music, to be quite honest.
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy114: I don’t see u at the concert. L |ʘ‿ʘ)╯
@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i dont see me trending on tiktok either
Gojo doesn’t even have the time to block and report Fushidaddy’s 114th account, because he’s too busy shoving his phone into his pocket and joining the screams for your encore that night. The one where you pretend to walk off, then dramatically sigh as you prance back down—
“Ah~” You’re voicing into the mic, looking at the sea of flash-lit faces around you. “Again? You lot are reeeeeally ravenous tonight, aren’t you?”
In unison, they roar. They agree.
With a faux huff, you’re placing your hand on your waist. It’s a pose infamous amongst your fandom, and they already knew what was coming up next- “Who’s got you so worked up, huh? Is it…me?” Roaring. Rumbling. Raging. You gasp, flattered. “It’s really me? Oh, now you’re just kidding—”
A furious shake of heads.
“You’re not? Well…” You smile, and it’s the type of smile that makes a flurry of star-stuck cameras go off. Basking in it, you walk oh-so-closely to the edge of the stage, where hands reach out to merely be in your presence. “That’s cute. But I still think I should arrest someone for being so naughty tonight, getting you all worked up.”
Crowds wave, volunteering themselves up to you.
You reach for your glittering belt and pull out the fluffy pink handcuffs that make them squeal, “And how aboooooout…”
Scanning the stadium.
Looking around.
Your eyes pass over the roaring head until—
“Ah! You there.” You’re pointing, your eye catching on a fluffy head of white hair. A face so handsome. So eager. “How about you? Would you like to be my arrestee tonight—?”
His deep voice sounds out, “Y-yes! Yes please-”
And as you near, the crowd grows even more restless. Like a tumultuous sea, the waves crash into each other, creating a rough tide that almost wanted to pull you in-
You blink.
And suddenly that white-haired man has disappeared.
But you’re by the edge of the stage by now, and you could feel the palms reaching for you as you try to discern just where he might be. “I uh-” You pause. Before the crowd surges forwards, and you’re thinking quickly to point out someone else. “Perhaps he isn’t so eager to be thrown in the slammer tonight-” They laugh, “-so how about you? Brown-haired girl? Would you like to be arrested by me~?”
She nods, and you proceed with your lil’ skit to ‘arrest’ her for being much too naughty.
Teasing and twirling, before you stand up and get on with the rest of your concert-
“And now—who’s ready for an encore~?”
You prance away, leaving a trail of glitter and song- and tears. Fuck, Gojo only claws himself up from the ground just as you finished your little arresting routine. The roll of the crowd had knocked him to the ground, and Shoko looks at her sad lil’ best friend.
She raises the handcuffs on her wrists, “Help me get out of these and you can have them, Satoru-”
“No, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Gojo straightens himself up, and Shoko’s shocked to find that he shakes his head in rejection.
“Satoru, are you okay?” Geto asks, warily.
“Yeah-” He sighs. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Something hollow in his breath. Something hollow in his heart, as he watches you slip away.
One.
More.
Time.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play Chasing Pavements by Adele
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: but you good bro??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy117: No bro
@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i feel you bro
@CupidOfficial: White hair. White stars…
That night, while Gojo had tossed and turned himself into a fitful sleep, his phone buzzed with yet another notification.
One that he had to blink his eyes at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, one that he had to pinch himself at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
DIRECT MESSAGES for @thestrongestfanboy.
@CupidOfficial: You’re the white-haired boy from tonight, aren’t you?
@CupidOfficial: Sorry if this is forward of me, I’ve just seen you around quite a bit…on my timeline, at the fanmeet…
@CupidOfficial: I just wanted to ask whether you’d want to model for the cover of my upcoming album?
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@pannchoa: Rumors swirl of Cupid’s upcoming album! Dispatch hints and industry whispers - read the full EXCLUSIVE from her producer right here.
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.
First thing’s first, you had Gojo Satoru sit on the couch of your penthouse accommodation. Talking through the details of your secretive upcoming album, and how the aesthetic you were going for fit his dazzling looks perfectly.
Second thing’s second, you had him seated on your king-sized bed. Still babbling about your album- at least, he was. Though the both of you knew that it was something else entirely on your minds.
Third thing’s third, he was sprawled out on said mattress. You straddlin’ his handsome face like a perch. His puffy, pinkish lips glued to your cunt—
“Mmpf- mmmm…” Gojo’s groaning over the most lecherous squelches that you’ve heard in your entire life. They’re echoing out like one of your sweetest songs, in sloppy staccato with the rovering movements of his tongue.
Gojo Satoru was eating you out like he was ravenous.
Famished.
Grabbing ahold of each side of your ass cheeks, he’s dragging you back down onto his gaping maw each n’ every time you flinched away with a whine, letting his tongue slash deeply into your drivelling orifice. “Mmm- hck!” Gojo’s so sloshed on your syrupy pussy that he’s finding himself hiccuping, eyes rolling all the way to the back of his head once your sap trickles out with a splash! Straight into the back of his throat, “Ohhhhh, my sweet girl-”
“Now now-” With a shiver, one of your hands slithers down to tug on Gojo’s clammy white locks. Almost as if to pull him away- but that only makes him nudge his lips closer to your hole with a keen. “Make sure you remember to- haaah, breathe, Gojo-”
“Sa-Satoru-” He whispers this out directly against your quivering cunt, and the vibrations make your back arch perfectly. Looking up at you through his pale lashes, fluttering. “Please call me, Satoru…”
Just the tip of his tongue that reels back out to fuck back in-
“-ma’am.”
“O-oh—” You’re moaning out at the way that his thick muscle pierces you - not only was Gojo an avid talker, but he had the tongue to back that up, too. So strong. So lengthy. He’s stirrin’ his tongue around and around in circular motions to graze those ridged tastebuds of his into each tiny nook n’ cranny.
Pulling onto his sweaty bangs and that only seems to make him go even harder- “S’that what you want me to call you?” You’re managing out, looking down at him- and that seems to make him jolt at the sheer intensity. “You want me to call you…”
You teasingly trail off, and Gojo only seems to buck—his hips coming up to make your vast bed creek. Chin spankin’ against the edge of your cunt when he yearns even closer, “Yes? Yes?”
“Oh? Was I supposed to- hck! finish something?” Pretending to not know exactly what he wanted, and it frankly made you even wetter to see the way that the tips of Gojo’s ears burn bright red at being caught.
“You know what I want baby- you know-” Sputtering out scorching hot breaths against your hole, before you know it- Gojo has one of his hands looped ‘round your thigh. The flat of his right thumb rubbin’ up and down your clit, “You kn-know what I want- and this pretty pussy does, too.”
Just the sultry sensation of him toying with your nub makes you gasp and buck. With your head thrown back, he’s taking every forceful bounce.
With such immense pleasure, Gojo’s letting his entire pretty face get ridden. The seeping hot core of your cunt plasters from the tip of his nose, down, down, down to grind your clit on the point of his chin. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Timing your gyrations just right, Gojo purses his lips and he spits- “She’s just so wet, my light.” Creating a slippery puddle that lets him slither his tongue into you even faster, “Soooo fucking wet. Sooo fuh-fucking loud, might even be louder than you on stage- and she’s honest, too.”
You’re raising a brow in challenge, raising his blushing head from between your legs to simply ask. “And just wh-what is ‘she’ honest about?”
There’s another dangling line of saliva spat on top of your pussylips, and the edge of Gojo’s thumb presses each wad inside. You shiver - and so does your core. “She knows she loves me—she knows she wants to call me ‘Satoru’, doesn’t she?”
Oh.
You simply shiver- you don’t even have an answer, and Gojo doesn’t expect you to have one. With sensual movements, the plush part of his lower lip drag-drag-draaaaags down the front of your cunt.
He’s pulling his tongue back, just lightly tapping it on top of your shaky orifice—“Hey…” You’re grumbling out, when his teasing motions are lingering for just too long. You tug on his hair, and that seems to make him groan in ecstacy - the happiness of being used. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”
“Why? Does she miss me?” Gojo prattles away - not to you, but to your dripping wet cunt. Almost as if to prove his point, just the spit-covered edge of his tastebuds slither close to your hole. And it makes you clench—
Around nothing, because Gojo’s pulling away in an instant.
He never imagined how fun it would be to tease you.
His pretty, swollen lips turning up into a dirty grin. “Ohhh, don’t you worry, my light.” And the crown of his thumb rolls over your clit a few more times, “I already know that she misses the feeling of my tongue fucking ‘er-” And just as you wanted (because he could never leaving you longing for too long) Gojo’s tongue starts moving in, sinking. “Already know she wants to be f-filled up like no other could, already know every word to your songs- every lyric- every syllable. Already know you’re gonna feel my tongue between your legs- and you’re going to call me—”
You breathe, “Yes?”
And he’s almost pleading. “Your good boy?”
“Well…” You twist your fingers harshly into his silken white hair, and it makes Gojo moan. Slightly shoving him where you wanted him the most- “-then shut the fuck up n’ prove it to me, Satoru.”
And that’s all he wanted.
That’s all he needed. For now.
Until you’re calling him your ‘good boy’ exactly like that dark, carnal part of him wanted you to—Gojo’s grunting at the shock of his first name leaving your pretty lips, in that sing-song voice of yours.
A sudden lurch that makes him shove his clammy head between your legs once more. He’s glued to the sheeny inner parts of your thighs, roughly gluing his mouth over your glazed pussylips.
“Oh- oh…” Heavy pants leave your mouth, and your chest heaves each time Gojo’s probin’ not only his prolonged tongue inside you- but also his slender fingers. “You’re really trying to prove it t’me-”
They were just so long. The curvaceous tips of his digits deliciously curving into your tenderest spots- he glides them perfectly along your walls. Fitting the ridges of his middle and ring fingers against your g-spot.
Thoroughly. You could feel the way that Gojo was grinning against your cunt folds as he feels your cute walls clamp down ‘round his touch- “I found that spot, my light. It feels sooooo gooood having my fingers all up in there, hm? Can you feel me right there-”
“Y-yes-” Fuck, he was circlin’ the padded tips of his fingers and that made you fall upon the bed. You clap a hand down on that mahogany headboard of yours and use it to keep yourself moving- “Fuck, it feels so good.”
“Then don’t you think I deserve it…” He’s pouting, plush mouth now pulling back to clamp down your clit, too. And not only was he suckin’ on that nub, he was biting down, too. “M’your number one fan.”
“Mhm—fuh-fuck.” Your head falls back when he’s pressing his lips together and draaaaagging the fleshy top of your clit backwards. Just stretching. Just itching this carnal itch.
When you’re distracted by the white-hot pleasure that bursts behind your lids at the feeling, Gojo’s easily managing to sneak in yet another finger. A third one that pummels your bruising g-spot just as hard. “Can recite your every lyric. Every fanchant.” The hot crevice of his mouth moves rapidly against your core.
Furiously.
He’s drawing out a saucy pattern with his tongue, one that you’re only later realizing are the strokes to spelling out your stage name.
C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D.
Gojo’s hot tastebuds salivate right down your front, pressing on your clit until you see sparks behind your eyes. “See- see?” There’s an almost crazed look in Gojo’s peripherals, rolling until they were almost nothing but pure white as you clench down on him roughly - and you start to wonder just what you have released. “See, m’your biggest fan- hck! M’your good boy, and this pretty pussy knows it.” He almost sounds pathetic begging between your legs, drooling, drunken. “And- and that’s not all-”
“Satoru, what do you mean that’s not…” Your sentence slowly dissolves in your throat, and with every push of his slimy tongue, you’re realizing just what he’s talking about.
Because instead of the curving ‘C’ that meant he was spelling out your stage name, Gojo was slashing something out. Long, hard lines that edged you closer towards your bliss—
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
“Mmm, you really are my biggest fuh-fan.” You’re somehow managing out, and the only thing you can do right now is grab ahold of Gojo’s hair and let him lavish you with his mouth. “You really love me, Toru?” And you feel him jolt at that cute nickname- “Or do you love my pussy?”
“Both. Both.” Fingers spearheading you so fast at this point that the skin ‘round his mountainous knuckles turns red. Stinging red. Needy red. Just like the strawberry shade of his overworked lips-
Plap! after plap!
And you’re not sure if the sounds are from the way you’re riding his handsome face, or the impact of him banging his fingertips into your deepest insides. “Both both both- fuck, I wanna have you drippin’ down my tongue for forever, my light. Could have you squeezin’ around me like this for ages, mmm, m’fucking obsessed.”
“A reference to my- haaah, to my album?” You question, and you were just so close. You were just so rapidly nudging yourself closer on top of him like this- “But what if you can’t breathe, Toru?”
“I don’t need to-” To which Gojo only grips the side of your ass with his free hand, tugging you down. Jolting you atop him. Manhandling you down further. He scrapes his swabbing fingers even further down your walls, past the spot of your bundle of nerves. “I don’t need to at all. Hah- I don’t need to breathe if I can have you like th-this…”
Your mouth dries of a response, because just then, he’s changing up the pattern of his sizzlin’ tastebuds again.
Long, luscious strokes.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
Your eyes snap wide open, and you’re gasping at the realization of what exactly he was spelling out. “O-oh…” Chin slathering with a waterfall of your spittle, you’re just holding onto him for dear life at his vulgar kisses. “Satoru, I think m’gonna c-cum—”
And you’ve had voice training before, you’ve been used to keeping your voice steady even in the most pressurized of environments- but just then, your tone cracks as you heave your sultry body forwards and cum.
Hot, glistening waves of bliss.
A heat that takes over your body, from your scalp to your toes.
Again and again.
Slight tears prick behind your eyelids as you let Gojo fuck you through your high with his tongue, “Fuck- fuck, you made me cum-” Somehow pinpointing each peak of your orgasm to stick his fingers in for. Thud, thud, thud. “-and I didn’t even expect it.”
“Mmmm—” And you don’t know who was more gone on the fact that you were cumming like this, you or him. Because Gojo was lappin’ away with his thick tongue, slurping. “Tastes so sweet, my light. S’like sugar on my tongue…”
“Oh, you really are pussydrunk.” You whisper, and let his face move back and forth to elongate your euphoria. “Keep going, Toru—h-hah, keep going.”
“Anything for you, ma’am.”
How he loved the way you soaked yourself just a lil’ wetter at the sound of him saying that particular title. How he loved the way you’d flinch and tremble on top of him when he licked you from the tip of your clit and down to the end of your cunt. How he loved the way your high bated to nothing but mere tingles, and you shivered sensitively when he still kept going.
“My orgasm’s over now, Toru—” You hiccup, your tears starting to spill. “You were such a…good boy.”
And that’s when Gojo jolts, his entire body running with a shockwave that made itself obvious even to you. Curiously, you’re peering behind him- before he’s drawing your attention back to the front with a few more plunging pushes of his tongue. “Mmmm, m’your good boy. Your good boy- your good boy.”
G-O-O-D-B-O-Y.
“Mhm—” And when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to wrench himself away anytime soon, you’re bawling. “Fuck- fuck, Satoru m’so sensitive.”
“M’sorry, my light, I just can’t seem to-” Somehow managing to pant through his thorough pushes, it was honestly a wonder that he could even find the time to breathe at this point- with the way he was glued to your puckered pussy. Mouthing out what felt like the most popular lyrics to your songs at this point- “-can’t even seem to stop. It’s like I’m…almost like I’m-”
You flinch when he spits once more, the wad oozing down your slit.
“-addicted.”
You take a goood, long look at Gojo: puffy eyes, bleary vision, his mouth all puffy and raw around your cunt. Nearly every inch of his face was covered in a sappy layer of your slick, and it dripped down to drench your pillow beneath. Like a puddle.
Your cup your hand down from his hair n’ to his cheek, and Gojo practically melts at the touch. You had the distinct thought that if he were a cat, he’d be purring. “But Toru-” Jutting your bottom lip out for emphasis, “I want to give you the same, you know what I mean? S’that alright.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you could step on me and I’d thank you.” He says, before wrenching off of your swollen pussylips with a wettened plop!
A loud, dramatic mwah!
It makes your heart race, and something in Gojo’s tightened trousers twitch. Eagerly, you’re shuffling yourself off of him and sitting on one end of the bed.
Earlier, Gojo had simply ripped off your skirt and panties off- and his flooded mouth drops further with every item of clothing you’re taking off. Until you were completely exposed, and you’re directing him with a finger to do the very same.
“Yes, ma’am-” There’s absolutely no hesitation before his t-shirt (with, tastefully, your face on it as part of your merchandise) comes off. And you’re absolutely shocked- because Gojo wasn’t the trim, lanky figure that you’d expected him to be.
Instead, he was built.
Well-chiselled pecs that made you ache to touch them, leading down with a deep valley to the muscles of his washboard abs. Almost like a ladder. They were decorated only with a few beauty spots, and a line of sparse white hair that led down, down, down.
Gojo’s beefy biceps flex as he then tugs down on the hemline of his pants and boxers, revealing—oh.
He flushes at the intensity of your stare, “Wh-what?” Almost squirming, he just felt so shy by the way his idol was looking at him like you just wanted to tear him apart. Sensually. “Is something not-”
“You’re just so big, Satoru.” You gasp, your eyes never straying from him.
Naturally, your hand reaches out to grab the ninth of his loooong inches, thick and hot in your hold. Glistening with need. His tight balls clenching. He was so hard that every pulsation was visible even from here.
A few veins decorated his shaft, and he was so reddened at the tip, n’ dripped down a stream of milky precum just at the feeling of your palm on him.
Slowly - ever-so-slowly - you start to lower your head…
“Oh.” Gojo pants out a scalding breath. “And that is…good?”
“It’s perfect.”
Gojo’s watching you through partly-cracked eyelids, feeling so hypnotized by the sight of you below him. He raises himself slightly on his haunches with a hiss, the hot air from your mouth kissin’ his tip—it almost- it almost reminded him of the way you’d lean in so close with your microphone.
Lips so soft.
Tongue so talented.
Just gently pressing—
And that’s when Gojo chokes back a needy cry and cums- straight down the front of your pretty, pretty face. In a split-second, you have your tongue filthily dangling out to catch the wads of seed that he was pouring out.
Splat after splat that ended up emptying on your tastebuds.
He’s bucking to let his shaft glissade just further down your tongue- and the mere plush feeling of him only makes his geysering divot spill out more generously.
“Fuck-” Gojo scrunches his azure eyes, head fighting not to throw back and miss a second of the sinful sight below. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I can’t believe I’m…this is all your fault, sweetheart, ngh.” And his abs flex as he starts up a lil’ half-rut to fuck himself through his wave of bliss.
“Mmm—” You’re savoring the salted caramel taste of him, something so sweet about him. Amused, you raise a brow. “I barely even put my mouth on you, and you’re cumming already?”
He’s raising his hands to his blushing face, peeking out through his fingers. “Actually…it’s the second time tonight m’cumming, my light.” As you raise your brows in slight surprise, and flick your eyes to the drenched mess of his boxers. “The haaaah—the first time was when you- you called me your ‘good boy’.”
“Oh.”
Cumming just from eating you out? Now that really made your cunt throb with torturous need, and you’re sliding a hand between your legs to feel for the wetness there.
“Well, then-” A beautiful grin graces your face, and it’s enough to make Gojo’s swollen cock twitch. “-guess you have one more to make up t’me if you’re such a, mm, good boy, huh?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
Before you know it, you’re being splayed out with your back against the bed. The mattress slightly dips as Gojo hovers his muscular weight above you, and he’s gently pushin’ apart your legs, sweat beading on his forehead as he takes in your dripping wet core.
You swear you catch his mouth watering at the sight- “No need to be nervous, Toru. Have you ever done this before?”
He shakes his head, “No, it- it was actually my first time eating you out, too.” Peering up at you with teary eyes, “Did I do good?”
Did he do good?
If that was his first time, you didn’t know what would happen with his second, his third, his tenth. And you’re snapping yourself forcefully out of that little reverie, “Yes- fuck, yes you did so good. Was such a good boy for me.” He grunts, something ruined in it. “Now I need you to be a good boy f’me again, okay? C’mon- put my legs on your shoulder—yeeeees, just like that.”
His muscles shifted underneath your heels, he was just so hulking.
“Now bend, Toru-”
“Bend?”
“Bend.”
And Gojo wanted to prove himself to you, just like before. He wanted to do his very best for you, you, you and only you - even if that meant…manhandling his one and only idol, just a little.
With a primal lurch, Gojo then has your knees pushed all the way up to your tits. “Like this?” Your body bent completely in half, like a lawn chair. “Like this?” And his hips slotting between your legs- in this mean mating press, Gojo’s furious cock stuffs juuuuuust inside- “Like- like-”
Before he’s slouching his head forwards and pushing—
“Fuck-” Gojo’s canines try to sink into his lower lip, before he’s realizing that that won’t hold back his gruff noises and he’s simply keening. Carnal. Baritone.
A thin line of drool starts to splash from the side of his maw, before his entire body bows inwards to yours. Like he was focusing each n’ every ounce of strength into pryin’ aside your swollen folds and squeeeeezing his round, girthy tip inside. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” And then you clench and you can hear the exact moment that the sensation pangs through Gojo’s body, “I think m’gonna cum again- fuck, m’gonna cum again just from this.”
“If you do then I want it allll inside-” You say, looking up into his attractive face - so unintentionally sexy. Gojo was flushing. Rabidly slobbering. His dick aching.
He was so hard that you could feel the prominent outline of each vein, scraping your insides as Gojo tries to push past the slight resistance of your entrance and buck and buck- “Don’t- oh.” He could barely even echo out a coherent thought with your wet pussy wrapped ‘round him like this. “Don’t- fuckin’- talk like that- s’only gonna make it, ngh, worse.”
“But I thought you were my good boy?”
“Fuh-fuck.” Gojo hollows out, with a clouded breath that made it seem as though every ounce of sanity was leaving his body along with it. And at that very second, you feel him spurt out just a single pearly white bead of cum.
It splats! down at the back of your pussy, and makes you shiver at the feeling. Meanwhile, Gojo’s forced to lurch up one of his fists and gnaw down on it to control himself. “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing t’me.” The blood vessels at his neck and temples pop as he somehow stops his dribbling cock from flooding your insides any further. “Didn’t know how fuck- fucking mean ya are, my light.”
“What can I say?” You hum, your hamstrings all sore with the intrusion that was being lodged in your lower half. “You were the criminal that got away- ngh, at my concert.”
“Mhm—?” Still rutting. Just animalistic half-ruts.
“And I want you to fuck me filthily, Toru.”
Oh…at this confession of yours, he grows even bigger inside of your tight channel. The girth of Gojo’s cock swells up, and his sheer length pushes apart your walls, molding them to him-
“Oh- oh my…” There was still a light sheen of your slick on Gojo’s face that he hadn’t been able to greedily lap away, and it’s then - mid-sentence - that you choose to lean yourself closer to him and get a taste.
To which Gojo’s hazed blue eyes snap open- and oh, the look in them makes your legs tighten. Makes them fail- he’s snapping them open in a singular fluid motion, uncaring of the way it exhausts your muscles. Uncaring of the snug stretch-stretch-streeeeetch of your cunt once he’s mazing himself inside. “-my light.” Gojo bites out, “I’ll give you anything you need…”
Just then, your ears ring with a sharp clap!
You’re wondering whether it’s your ears.
You’re wondering whether it’s your heartbeat.
You’re left wondering no longer when you register it’s the slamming impact of Gojo’s toned v-line snapping against your lower half. Bottoming out in one motion, he’s deeply probin’ his rotund tip into the back of your treacly pussy.
Bottoming out? Already?
“And that includes fucking you like the slut you want to be fucked as.”
Oh.
Oh.
It seems that perhaps you’ve broken him.
Because then Gojo’s pounding his rough, ravenous hips into you all the way until his white happy trail scrapes your clit, and the end of his shaft reaches for the back of your throat.
“What the fuck…” He stops as he feels the tender end of your pussy - teary eyes widening. And the first thing out of his mouth is, “Is this real?” In utter, feral disbelief. “There’s no way this is…” Before Gojo’s pinching himself.
He bottoms out a few more times, and each time the look in his eyes grows more distant. Jaw dropping further and further with the pure ecstacy of having his painfully-hard erection surrounded by your soft warmth. “Are you- hck! are you holding up, Toru?”
“Holding up? Holding up?” He almost cackles- octaves higher, almost crazed. He turns to you, “Pinch me.”
“What-”
“Pinch me.”
And so you do - right on the strawberry nubs of his nipples, where he was just so sensitive. Only when the painfully lewd sensation confirms it’s real does he start formulating his sloppy cadence, “Fuck! It doesn’t fucking feel r-real. It can feel like this, sweetheart?” He was rutting his hips impatiently into you like he was trying to fuck the answer out of you. Each n’ every loooong, winding vein glissading down your walls. “N-ngh, she feels like heaven ‘round my cock.”
“Oh yeah—?” Purposefully, you clench. “Like that, Satoru?”
He simply shivers, “Y-yes.” You can feel him thumpin’ away at the goopy back of your pussy, with his circular divot creaming out in pre. “She’s sucking up every inch of me- fuck, huggin’ me so tight. Bet she can feel my veins reeeeeal good, can’t she?” A few slurps as he sloppy fucks his way in, which he takes as an answer. “Mhm, she can.”
And you only clench harder-
“Oh.” He whimpers, “Have mercy.”
“I dunno…” You drag out from the back of your throat, and you have to curl your toes to stop the pleasure from overflowing and interrupting your sentences. “You didn’t have mercy when you ate me out earlier, did you?”
Gojo gasps-
“And when you screamed at my concert, and when you disrupted my fanmeet.” You’re quite enjoying watching him fall apart - head hung, hips stuttering as he struggles to hold himself back. You wonder just what might happen if you made this handsome virgin Gojo…break. “So why should I show you- ngh, mercy?”
“Please- oh, what are you—”
Whatever Gojo was going to say is immediately derailed by the casual way you’re hiking up a hand to your stomach. Pressing dooooown just as his throbbing length was sinking in, “Filthier, Toru.”
And that’s when something in your favorite fanboy - in Gojo Satoru - snaps.
That’s when your positions shift.
His sap dribbles down n’ overflows just like the way your steaming tastebuds do, and your teeth clench after every one of his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Just like you’d said, he was thwacking his aching hot cock into you so hard that the curve of his ballsack was swatting your cunt. Slowly, you’re growing more and more hypnotized by his roverin’ dick stuffing every ounce inside you full. “Just like that- hah-” Arms wobbling, you struggle to reach ‘round Gojo’s shoulders. “Oh- just like that-”
“Just like that?” He asks, oh-so-kindly. And you almost feel a glimmer of hope for your poor body when Gojo gently tugs your arms around his shoulders. Letting you grab onto his deltoids-
“But I don’t think s’filthy enough, my light.”
Oh…so you were mistaken.
“Filthier, you said?” He repeats your words from earlier, fully channeling his energy to swabbin’ every point of your cunt. Gojo feels your legs slipping, and he’s reaching a hand behind his neck to pin your ankles together - locking them in place. “Look-” Other hand thumbing between your puffy pussylips, “Look, she wants it harder- faster, too. She’s practically flooding out and begging for it.”
“Oh my god-” Your pillow is drenched in a layer of your spittle by now, and your back arches. “Keep- keep going.”
“Keep going? But I wanna go even filthier, sweetheart.” That familiar pout of his makes an appearance, though there was something much more…sleazy about it this time.
Your nails dig into the plush mountains of his muscles, shifting underneath your touch each time he’s reeling his body back. Back, back, back. Gojo was putting his entire frame to work - not just his hips - each time he’s shovelling his cock into you.
And the extra pressure makes the rounded crown of his shaft embed deep into your cervix, leaving a bruise there that acts as the perfect target for the next slam. And the next. And the next. “Please-” You’re gasping out, sobs bubbling in your throat. “Please please please- please, and how are you gonna be even filthier?”
“Like this.” Just to prove his point, his free hand tilts open your chin and spits straight in your mouth. And without wasting a second longer, Gojo spanks that very hand back down on your hips to keep you from running. “Aaaand—”
Instead, he’s using his strength to pliably jerk you back down. Hissing between your parted lips, “Like this.” He’s bubbling up even more saliva- this time, down your slippery slit. That hand of his on your hip reaches over, and with the forefront curve of his thumb, Gojo’s smearin’ the wad of saliva on top of your pussy. Pressing down on your clit- “Because m’just your pathetic fanboy, my light, listening to- ngh, every word you say. So when you say filthy, m’only gonna go filthier.”
You almost don’t want to dare to ask, “And h-how will you make this…even filthier?”
But you knew he wanted you to.
You knew he was just dying to fuck the words out of you.
Gojo’s plastering a sleazy smirk across his face, and it damn near looks downright blasphemous with the layer of syrup on his features. “I h-have an idea or two…”
He’s not telling you what the idea is, he’s showing it to you - with his fingers twisting on top of your clit to spell out some of the very words he’d spelled out with his tongue earlier.
I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
Furiously, your body thrashes at the mercy of his clutches. Gojo was holding you down ruthlessly, a mean expression taking over his face when he finds out that he can simply pin you down and make that glistening hole of yours take it.
M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.
All those zaps of pleasure that you loved so much, that you were moaning so much at. You’re so cockdrunken by this point that spittle sloshes ‘round inside your mouth- and Gojo only leans over to lick off the drivels of it escaping your mouth.
<3
Just in time to crash his lips into your when you cum.
“C-cumming.” You’re gasping out, almost in disbelief at the sheer strength of the orgasm that was flooding your entire body. Bucking back into his thrusts, “So much- it’s- it’s so much, fuck.”
“Yes-” Gojo growls, slightly breathless at the fact that this was you—and you were cumming ‘round his cock, suctioning every tender ridge on his shaft, fully fucking yourself through the complete waves of your high.
Bliss upon euphoria.
If you thought that your orgasm was incredible earlier, then you weren’t ready for this one. It simply takes over every part of you, until it felt like your nerves were fried with the sensation.
He stops pinning you down any longer, letting you bounce your hips back into his to your heart’s content. “That’s right, use me.” Gojo’s fingers are but a blur on your clit, “Use me to ride your high- fuck, use me as much as sh-she wants. Let me feel every inch of you squeezin’ around me-”
“I can’t be the only one.” Despite the pangs of your bliss, you somehow manage to blink away your tears to gaze up at him. With a hand fisted in Gojo’s perspired hair, you’re pulling him in reeeeal close, “Want you to cum insi- oh, fuck.”
You don’t even have to finish your sentence.
You don’t even have to finish your thought.
Because the moment that Gojo realizes what you’re trying to say to him, the bawling divot at the end of his shaft pours out white-hot cum. Heard throwing back. Chiselled body bowing into yours. Voice straining with a call of your name.
It’s just the creamiest texture, it polishes a layer of white on your cervix and along your walls until the syrup froths outside.
Gasping, Gojo brushes his thumb between your folds and plugs up your leaking hole. Overspilling. So many webbed layers were seeping out of you, and he was taking the time to push every ounce of it back inside- “Fuck.” He whispers, thickly. “Fucking hell.”
“S’all inside, Satoru.” You mewl, gliding your hand up and down your front. “I can feel it splashin’ around inside-”
“Don’t say that- don’t- fucking say that-” He just barely chokes out- before one of Gojo’s hands lets go of your ankles to actually squeeze that pretty neck of yours, so perfect in his grip. “Don’t say that or m’gonna…”
“Or what?”
“Or m’gonna cum again-”
“Can feel it alllllll up inside.” You continue, despite the lecherous tightening at your throat. And Gojo has to listen on in pure agony as that voice he loves so much continues on—“Honestly- at this rate, you might just get me- ngh, pregnant, Toru.”
And that does it- he’s splurging out his dewy wet wads all over again. It seeps a layer of white into your glossy insides, making every thrust of his slippery.
With a slight whimper, he doesn’t waste time fucking those droplets of cum inside even if it aches him with sensitivity. The reddened tip of his cock twitches, and Gojo’s balls nuzzle the forefront of your cunt, already sucked dry with nothing more to give-
“You kn-know-” When Gojo speaks, it almost sounds like he’s crying- oh. Something hot and wet drips from his eyes, he actually was crying in overstimulation.
The texture of your cunt leaving him red n’ raw, but even then he’s way too addicted to try and bring himself to stop. Moaning, “-I did say something about you st-stepping on me, my light.”
Your brows raise.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
.
.
.
It’s almost a year later when Gojo posts:
@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.
@Fushidaddy1008 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmfao as if anyone would bang you
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1008: Ahhh, my wife would bang me~! ＼(≧▽≦)／ Also blocked (*≧ω≦*)
@Fushidaddy1009 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: wife?? lmfao i thought Cupid was your wife?? youre saying you banged Cupid??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1009: Exactly~! Blocked (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
@thestrongestfanboy: I would let her step on me (and HAVEEEEE) <(￣︶￣)>
@thestrongestfanboy: Does anyone have that meme of the guy shooting a basketball from the moon and actually making the basket???
@thestrongestfanboy: I’M IN LOVE.
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro do you gen need your meds or…
@Shokomedical replying to @DigiGeto: I’ve prescribed all he needs, idk how but it’s gotten worse since that concert last year.
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Happy for you Gojo-senpai ^.^
@thestrongestfanboy: MY BEAUTIFUL WIIIIIIFE~! ٩(♡ε♡)۶
And then came the disaster, perhaps. Because he’d meant to attach a completely innocent picture of you from your last show, he’d meant to post something that would have been inconspicuous with everything else that your fansites were posting.
But this is Gojo - and that’s obviously not what happened.
Attached to that aforementioned tweet was a picture of none other than Gojo Satou and you. Not from a concert. Not from afar. In the flesh, in nothing but a soft blanket covering your most intimate parts, clearly bitten all over and sex-hazed.
You were raising a digital camera up, your smile peaking through its edge as if you were taking a picture of a picture. And Gojo himself was in the corner - bitten, marked, a dopey smile and just as ruined, as sex-rumpled as you were, shirtless.
The first night.
How damning.
In the split-second that the photo had been up, it spread across stan Twitter like wildfire. And all of Gojo’s subsequent tweets had upwards of 1M+ views just because of it.
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT
@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DIVA DOWN DIVA DOWN
@thestrongestfanboy: I DIDN’T MEAN TO POST THAT PLEASE FORGET ABOUT IT.
@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro actually….did it? The fanboy actually did what every delulu stan hopes to do??
@gggggnarly replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU HOOKED UP WITH QUEEN CUPID?!
@hearts2hurts replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I fear I, again, can’t send hate because this is impressive ngl.
@utahimeslefttoe replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i know this is a marketing stunt i just cant prove it (uta give me a chance pls)
@lovelicky replying to @thestrongestfanboy: PARASOCIALISM WORKED??
@yuuthebaddie replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU GOT THE HUZZ??
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I GOT THE HUZZ!! („ಡωಡ„)
@thestrongestfanboy replying to @thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DELETE-
@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Satoru what the fuck
@Shokomedical replying to @thestrongestfanboy: SATORU WHAT THE FUCK
@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I always knew the day would come!! Congratulations, Gojo-senpai ^.^
@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: What did I miss?? Do I need to make a new thread??
@Fushidaddy2067 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: thats it siri play chasing pavements.
And that’s when it spreads outside of your fandom, first to the celebrity news outlets, and then everyone else. Soon enough, BuzzFeed, TMZ, Pannchoa were all tripping over themselves to be the first to report and interview on the subject. Personally, you knew that Dispatch was foaming at the mouth to drop the annual bombshell with all the sordid details.
TRENDING ON TWITTER:
#CUPIDPICTURE
#CUPIDDATING
#THESTRONGESTFANBOY
#DELULUISTHETRULULU
#HEGOTTHEHUZZ??
#LFORFUSHIDADDY
@CupidManagement: As a company, we do not interfere in the private lives of our artists and we kindly ask everyone to stop spreading any malicious rumors. We wish all the best to Cupid, and her relationship going forward.
And you?
@CupidOfficial: Ahhh might be as great a time as ever to announce that my new album, Stargirl, will be out on all platforms November 28th!! Here’s the cover art, hope you love it (and a special thank you to the special boy that made it happen) <33
On the cover, a picture of Gojo.
Not as you’d seen him in the bedroom, of course. It’d been exciting work to get to the studio, to don him in the most ethereal flowy whites, to place him in the midst of a blank background and stud his hair with roses, to bathe him in a dreamy light. It was almost hazy. In the picture, his face was turned away but he was staring into the camera- and…perhaps past it.
Right where you’d been, directing him.
With such a loving glimmering in his eyes that it made one almost shy to directly at it.
Your vision had some to life.
It quickly racks up a comfortable million plus views on Twitter, and you quietly shut off your phone as the notifications keep beeping. Instead, snuggling up to Gojo right back in your penthouse, right beside you (not before you give him a lecture on double-checking the pictures he posts, of course.)
sneak peek: the parasite (serialkiller!sukuna x yandere!reader)
“Happy birthday, Yuji!” you say to the little boy excitedly.
The now 6 year old’s already running up to you with his arms out. “Thank you!”
Sukuna’s trailing right behind you with a giant wrapped present in hand, sporting his usual broody expression, even though he himself is happy to be here. He just hates showing it.
“Is that my present?” Yuji looks up to him and asks, just barely containing his excitement.
“Sure is,” Sukuna says, crouching down to hand it to the kid, then ruffling his already unruly hair. “Happy birthday, little man.”
“Thank you!” he squeals, grabbing the present that’s half his size and turning to his father, Jin. “Daddy, look!”
“I know,” the kinder twin smiles, “I wonder what your uncle got you this year.”
“I hope it’s a car!”
Sukuna rolls his eyes, he should be grateful he got a fucking gift anyways. Imagine if he didn’t get the kid a toy fire truck?
Well, you, not him. He doesn’t exactly have the patience to go to a toy store, being surrounded by a bunch of snot-nosed brats, whining to their mothers which toys they wanted, so he sent you there instead.
And had you wrap the box. He doesn’t have much patience for that either.
Jin and Kaori decided to have a small get together for Yuji’s birthday this year, only inviting you, Sukuna, Wasuke, and Yuji’s friend from school, Megumi. It went by so fast and with the fourth addition to their family, an entire party was just too much to handle at the moment. Yuji didn’t seem to mind, he was happy enough with his cake and presents today.
The kid pretty much did his own thing with Megumi the entire time, meanwhile the adults, along with a 6 month old, stayed at the table chatting and catching up with each other.
Jin and Kaori are obviously tired. Yuji wasn’t a bad kid, but definitely a lot. Add a baby into the mix and they had their hands full.
Wasuke on the other hand has been loving his life, being retired and all. He’ll help out with Yuji and the baby once in a while, but aside from that, life has been easy. At one point you asked if he ever missed the shop, to which he laughed and said, “fuck no”. Very expected from a man that has worked for nearly 50 years.
“Do you want kids?” Kaori turns to you and asks.
The question came from a good place, you’ve been holding the baby boy in your arms for a few minutes now, squishing his cheeks and making silly faces at him. But even if she was just curious, you can feel Sukuna tense up from it. It doesn’t come as a surprise, he’s never expressed wanting a kid. Now that you think of it, neither have you.
You let out a small laugh, obviously flustered by the subject. You look down at the kid, thinking about how you and Sukuna would probably mess him up if you had been his parents instead.
You know who you are. Not to mention Sukuna and his little… hobby.
“One day,” you softly say.
—
notes: i have so many wips rn 🫣 but good news, im gonna do what i did with mafia sukuna for this fic and just turn it into a oneshot!
₊˚ ㅤꨄ︎. satoru hugging your cinnamoroll plushie after an argument | angst, fluff at the end (not proofread)
it started with something small, it always did.
you’d been venting about how exhausted you were – how he’d been so caught up with work lately that you barely felt like a couple anymore. you just needed him to listen, maybe to say he missed you too.
but instead, he sighed and muttered, “… can you stop? you’re being dramatic.”
for a moment, you couldn’t even find the words. you stared at him, heart sinking at how dismissive he sounded after you’d just tried expressing how you felt.
“w-wait no, i just meant–”
“you don’t get to call me dramatic just because you don’t want to deal with it! i’m honestly tired, satoru… i-i hate you!”
and that was it. the atmosphere in the apartment turned heavy – weighed down by words neither of you knew how to take back.
hours passed with both of you lost in silence. you’d locked yourself in the guest room, choosing distance over another fight, while he sat alone in your shared bedroom – head in his hands, replaying every word he wished he could take back.
──★
by the time the clock hit midnight, the apartment was still too quiet.
satoru sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed, staring at the cinnamoroll plushie you always sleep with; the one he’d given you for your birthday last year. it’s small, soft, and slightly misshapen from all the nights you fell asleep with it tucked under your chin.
he sighs, picking it up carefully, thumb brushing over the embroidered smile.
“… you’re lucky, y’know?” he murmurs under his breath, voice soft and a little guilty. “she hugs you during her good days… and when she’s sad too.”
“guess you’ve seen all her moods, huh?”
he brought it closer – pressing it to his chest, wishing it could tell him how to fix the situation. there’s a faint scent of your shampoo still lingering on it, and for a moment, he just sits there, pretending it’s you in his arms instead.
“and now she hates me… can’t even blame her, honestly.”
there’s a beat of silence before he adds, quieter, “but i’ll fix it. i swear.”
that’s the sight that greets you when you finally peek out of your room – your 6ft’3 boyfriend, holding your plushie like a lifeline, whispering apologies to it as if it might actually forgive him on your behalf.
you wanted to stay mad at him, but the image of him cuddling your plushie was honestly… way too adorable – that suddenly, being mad doesn’t even feel worth it anymore.
and maybe that’s how satoru gojo wins you over every time.
not with grand gestures or perfect apologies, but with the way he loves you; honest, sincere, and always from the heart… even through a stuffed toy.
synopsis : 2014, and you think one Satoru is already the bane of your existence? Yeah. What about three of them? Including two coming from different futures. Good luck with that! You’ll need it.
warnings : fluff, comedy, angst, mention of death, smut, foursome, use of pet names, p in v, double penetration, receiving and giving head, being sandwiched (lol), cock drunk, aftercare, plot with porn.
words count : 16.k
Saturday, 6 pm.
Not one, not two, but three Satorus.
You’re dreaming, yeah. You’re totally dreaming. Or maybe it’s more appropriate to say a nightmare. All of them talking in a chaotic conversation about why, when, how and where it all happened, while you just found yourself in the middle of it all. With no way to escape. Not like you can easily sneak away when you have three versions of The Strongest Sorcerer of his time looming over you.
“Satoru- I mean, you guys, you… three? Whatever. I’ll just go take some air, I need to think about everything that happened,” you end up saying, interrupting their unstopping talking. Confused on how to refer to them, him, Satoru, you just give up and step away.
“Don’t leave me with those three!” exclaims one of them, which you recognize being your Satoru, the one from this timeline. His hand grabs your arm and he’s already at your side in a second.
“I’m you from the future, we’re basically the same person,” retorts the blindfolded one, crossing his arms on his chest. “Ah, what a drag…” he adds to himself, pinching his nose.
“Now I understand why people call me annoying,” retorts your Satoru, starting to lose patience at a situation that is out of his control, and worstly, with himself. He always works alone, but having to team up with two more versions of him that come from the future, and that clearly know more than him, makes Satoru feel this strange inferiority yet curious feeling. He had dreams about seeing some sort of doppelganger, having fun by eating tons of food together and pulling pranks on Nanami. Teamwork is dreamwork, after all.
But having to team up with himself for the sake of knowing why this situation is happening and how to deal with it, is a living nightmare. So, teamwork feels more like nightmarework at this point. He kind of regrets how he acts with Ijichi sometimes -all the time-.
“Just leave y/n be,” interferes the older Satoru, body full of fresh scars, making the younger him step back a good meter away. “Go before I- we change our mind,” he winks at you and you quickly stare at the red lines on his face with intense worry and confusion, before walking towards the door of your apartment.
“Yeah, I’ll just go for a quick walk down the block. So stay here until I come back, and please don’t make a mess!” you exclaim as you point at them three with some authority.
“Me? Doing a mess? You wound me, y/n!” retorts your Satoru with a big smile on his face, hand over his heart as if he received a dagger.
“You’re the messier of us three,” scoffs the scars one, pointing at all the sweets and chips bags scattered on the dining table. Empty, on top of that. Right, he left them yesterday when he came for a sleepover, and forgot to throw them in the trash.
You close the door in a loud bang to block their bickering, and quickly slide down the stairs at all speed to find some fresh air when you step outside. Lost in thoughts, you start reminiscing about how this chaos started.
And this, barely some hours ago.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Saturday, 1 pm.
“Satoru, I swear to god if you won’t let me go alone to this mission, I’ll take your eyes out myself,” you snap, stopping your way towards Ijichi’s car to face the insufferable bane of your existence.
“Eh? My precious Six Eyes? Come on, don’t be a buzzkill, let me come with you,” he coos, smoothly sliding closer to you. His finger lifts the white bandage wrapped around the left shiny blue. Just enough to properly look at you.
“Sometimes I wonder why you’re even my best friend,” you mutter, passing your hand over your face to try to wipe away the exhaustion of this banter that is starting to last too long. Satoru tilts his head to the side, lazy smirk pulling at his lips.
“Because you love me so much. I know, who wouldn’t? I’m Gojo Sato-” you nudge him, stopping him before he can finish his sentence. He laughs slightly. “Ok, shut it down,” you say and start to walk again towards the car barely meters away.
Yet, you feel the atmosphere shift. His hand grabs your wrist, strong enough to stop you from going farther.
“Y/n, I’m serious. I’m coming with you,” Satoru insists. You sigh, gathering some strength to face this one more time. “No you’re not,” you retort.
“That’s a dangerous mission. You’re not strong enough for it. You’ll need my help,” he replies, making you face him. Expression colder, less joking around, only seriousness. You frown at the way he called you, feeling hurt by it.
“Not strong enough? Excuse-me?” you ask one more time, giving him the chance to apologize and take back his words.
“Yeah, you heard me,” yet he confirms. You scoff, yanking your wrist away from his grip.
“Fuck off, Satoru,” you snap at him, and don’t let him have the time to answer that you directly enter the black car and slam the door at his nose.
“Ijichi, please let’s go quick,” you exclaim. Sensing the tension, he does as asked and pulls away. You don’t even look at him staring at the car disappearing on the road. You even receive a text after some minutes, Satoru saying ‘y/n, don’t be stupid and let me come with you,’ and ‘you know I care about you,’ ‘are you really going to ignore me?’ ‘fine, suit yourself,’ and finally ‘please be safe.’
You stare at the screen, interrupted by Ijichi pulling over in a small street of Shinjuku. At the same time, your phone dies, no more battery. Great. Arriving at the location of the mission, having to face a grade 1 curse, you immediately try to concentrate and focus on the task at hand. But your mind keeps wondering about what just happened. You cast the veil and enter the abandoned building.
When the curse finally shows itself, the fight starts in the dust of this empty hallway. The curse is small, but extremely powerful.
“Me? Not strong enough? Is he calling me weak? I can’t believe it! He’s really being a dick,” you exclaim to yourself mid-fight, wiping the sweat on your forehead. The curse answers something, mocking, but you don’t really pay attention to it.
Actually, you don’t pay much attention to the critical blow it launches at you. Tired of the fight being more complicated than you expected, it’s only at the last second that you see it coming. Time seems to almost stop, eyes widening at the realization that what it threw at you might be what will end your life.
“Fuck!” you curse in a last attempt to protect yourself, preparing to receive it right in your heart, a fast reflex of throwing a last hope of attack at the curse. Something shifts in the atmosphere surrounding you, all at once.
A flash of blue, your eyes are blinded in what seems like death, then the curses blood splatter everywhere. You fall on your ass, against the destroyed wall, catching back your breath and adjusting your earring from the intense ringing. That wasn’t you. You’re not the one that just ended the curse with some blue technique.
“You better not die on me yet,” exclaims a voice that you instantly recognize. Him, obviously. You raise your head, only to see his shadow looming over you. The dust slowly dissipates around him, revealing inch by inch his face. Angry at his presence, you stand up on your wobbly legs.
“Satoru, I can’t believe you still came even though I told you to leave me alone! I was perfectly handling my-” you stop yourself when you notice a black tissue covering his eyes, instead of the usual white bandage, “-self,” you finish in a breath. Staring at his form, his cursed energy vibrates stronger than usual.
“Wow, easy there, baby. Didn’t seem like handling yourself perfectly fine to me, y/n,” he raises his hands before putting one in his pocket, the other tenderly bringing you closer to him. Your head falls on his chest, and you frown confused.
Oh, that’s new. The nickname. He never called you ‘baby’ before. You put some distance, which makes him, as you suppose, stare at you in confusion too. But why would he be confused? You’re still mad at him.
“What is that blindfold? A new style?” you end up asking, rubbing the blood off your face. Yours, obviously. Oh, and some from the curse that he obliterated. Satoru lifts his said blindfold to look at you, raising an eyebrow.
“Did you hit your head? You must have a concussion,” he retorts, now taking your face in his hands, warm against your cold cheeks. His touch brings you comfort, as he analyzes your head. But since he’s clearly making fun of you, you don’t take it sweetly and yank off his wrists.
“Get away from me, and stop joking around. Why suddenly changing your bandage?” you ask annoyed. Satoru stops moving, for a solid second looking down at you seriously. His eyes bore into your skull, your cursed energy, your thoughts, searching for informations you don’t even know why he’s looking for them.
“You’re the one kidding me right now. I changed it almost two years ago,” he answers, voice less light. You jerk your face in confusion. He’s pranking you. For sure.
“What? Barely one hour ago you were wearing your bandages!” you protest. Satoru stares around him, then checks his phone. No signal. He puts it back in his pocket and steps closer, analyzing you.
“Just to be sure, what year is it?” he asks. You have a nervous laugh, not understanding why he’s asking you that.
“2014. And yet you’re the one saying I had a concussion ?.. the irony,” you answer, now thinking he’s going delirious. He turns around you, hand on his chin, circling round and round. Your head has to follow his lead.
“What are you doing?”
He stops, then leans very close, too close. Not that you’re not used to you and Satoru being physically close. He’s your best friend, after all. But his lips are almost brushing yours. He then suddenly straightens his back, leaving you some space.
“Hmm, that’s what I was thinking, you’re the younger you, and I’m the older me,” he states as a matter of fact.
“Younger me?” you question, twice confused now. What is he even saying?
“Come on baby, ‘think I’m lying to you?” he muses, whipping a tiny cut on your chin with his thumb, carefully. Again with that nickname. You shake your head.
“That’s… Let’s imagine I believe you. If you’re here, from the future, where is my Satoru?” you ask in a frown.
“Hey, I’m still yours, and more than him actually. But, to be honest, I don’t know. Maybe I took his place, maybe we’re two of us now,” he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets in a hum. Again, his eyes shift all around him, Six Eyes trying to find an answer to this situation.
“If you’re pranking me right now, know that it’s not funny,” you argue, pointing at him. If he’s being for real, you’re going to freak out. He sighs.
“Ok, you’re not listening. I’m bringing you to Shoko. You’re bleeding,” he comments instead, “but well, I hope the other Satoru, if there is one, is not at the campus. It would start a riot to see the two of us there. Well, at least until I understand better what just happened,” he adds before scooping you up efficiently in his arms, cradling your body against his chest with ease. You yelp, startled, and to not fall, your hands roll around his neck.
“I can walk,” you protest. He smiles, raising an eyebrow, “come on baby, you love when I’m taking you in my arms,” he replies. Once again he’s flirting in a way that is bolder than the usual, calling you nicknames… Is he really from the future?
“Can you quit calling me baby?” you prefer to say. He raises an eyebrow, some understanding flashing before his eyes while he starts to walk towards the edge of the veil.
“Oh, that’s right, we’re still not dating in 2014,” he shrugs lightly. You almost choke on your saliva, staring at him eyes wide open. “Dating?!” you blurt out. He chuckles lightly, looking at you fondly for some seconds before staring back before him.
“Hey, don’t freak out too much. From my timeline, I’ve been dating you for a few years now,” he explains simply. You bite your lower lip, hardly realizing what he’s saying. Ok, you do have feelings for your best friend. But learning that in a possible future you’re dating him, means he loves you too. Romantically. Not wanting to overthink it too much, you decide to ask something else.
“What year are you from, then?”
“2018,” he says, passing through the veil. He uncasts it for you. You take the opportunity to stare at him. You can’t help but feel like he’s telling the truth. He does look older now that you look at it. More mature looking. His cursed energy too seems more intense. And the change of the attire with the blindfold.
“That’s crazy,” you whisper. You call Ijichi to come pick you up, and everything happens fast. You’re put in the car, and Satoru enters it as well, staring at Ijichi with a knowing look. Surely he’s thinking how in four years he still has the same face, or the contrary. Yet, the black haired man is surprised to see him, as he didn’t recall driving him to the exact location of your mission. He stares at the tissue over his eyes, questioning it with a small voice while engaging on the road.
“Oh? The blindfold? Yeah, just wanted to try something new,” lies Satoru. You’re anxious when you arrive at the campus. You don’t know if you’ll see your original Satoru in here, or maybe he disappeared because one from the future is standing next to you, cooing in a way that tries to convince you to let him take you in his arms and bring you to Shoko himself.
Instead of listening to your protest, he directly teleports you there, so he’ll avoid as many people as he can. He opens the door with his foot, facing the woman that was normally on her break. She turns around and raises an eyebrow, before looking down at you with some worry.
“Shoko! Mind taking care of sweet y/n over here?” he asks cheerfully, laying you down himself on the white bed.
She doesn’t even ask about the blindfold, probably thinking it’s just Satoru being Satoru. Not one from the future, obviously. Yet, as she approaches you to analyze your condition, she raises an eyebrow while looking slightly at him.
“What are you doing here? You told me earlier you left for a mission. Is it already finished?” she asks as she inspects your wounds, and starts to work her cursed energy while you suck up a groan of discomfort.
“Made it quickly,” Satoru lies, with an arrogance that apparently didn’t leave him four years in the future. But having a new information about the situation, now knowing that the original Satoru of your timeline went to a mission, might help you out in meeting him again and arrange the situation. If he still exists, that is.
“Oh, a mission? What did he said to you? He refuses to tell me,” you say lightly, pointing at the blindfolded one as if you were having your usual banter in between the two of you. To add to the lie, Satoru nods. Shoko, always on your side, chuckles.
“Well… Don’t know much, aside from the fact that it was one of the missions he postponed for two weeks. So I expected that it would take the afternoon,” she explains, side-eyeing him. He tilts his head to the side, smirking. Great, that doesn’t help you much.
“What can I say, I made it fast,” he fakely defends himself, exactly like he would have normally done. Some more minutes pass, Shoko finishes stitching you up as Satoru has to turn his back to not look at your naked chest. But knowing that in his timeline he’s your boyfriend, and for God knows how long, he mostly already knows every inch of your bare body. That makes you slightly embarrassed.
Shoko finally lets you go. Satoru turns back around, lifting his blindfold to check on your healed form. He approaches and leads you to the door by lazily wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“All done? Thanks, we’ll go,” he cheerfully says, opening the door. As he steps outside with you on his heels, he stops a second and looks back. “Oh and, I know your cigarettes are hidden in the teacher’s room, so throw them away before I burn them myself,” he suddenly says. The door closes before Shoko can answer. You look at him confused.
“How do you know?” He smirks, shrugging like it was nothing.
“I would say it’s around some months later in your timeline that I stumbled upon her cigarettes, when she clearly said she quit smoking,” he explains, while you nod, slightly chuckling to yourself. The both of you walk in the corridor, the sun high in the sky illuminating the walls and casting your shadows on the floor.
“We should go, we can’t afford more people seeing you. What if that makes a time paradox?” you break the short silence. He hums, pensively.
“I thought about it. But to have a paradox, firstly we need to know if the me of this timeline still exists, and to do something by accident that will change the course of time,” he answers, you stop walking, facing him. His arm falls from your shoulders.
“Let’s go to my apartment. You’ll stay there, and I’ll charge my phone so I can contact the other you,” you propose as a plan. His lips stretch with teasing.
“Inviting me over when we’re still not dating in this timeline? Aw, babe, you’re bolder than I thought,” he nudges, leaning his face towards you jokingly. You want to punch his face, but you don’t. Sadly.
“Firstly, you always come to my apartment in this timeline, and secondly, I’m not supposed to know about us dating or whatever!” you exclaim, while he answers by tenderly kissing your cheek, the atmosphere switching into something softer. The blood rushes in your veins.
“Relax, that won’t create a time paradox. I’m just letting you know the inevitable,” he muses, lips lingering on the plump of your face, before kissing the skin again with a loud and obnoxious smack. Thankfully, the corridor is empty.
“Inevitable?” you nudge him away, “yeah, you’re stuck with me guaranteed for the next four years,” he affirms, pinching your cheek playfully and you roll your eyes, hardly being able to control your heart in this strange situation of him openly dating the you of the future, while the you of right now is stuck hiding her feelings.
“Poor me,” you decide to joke instead. He slaps his tongues in his mouth, chanting “you love me.”
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Saturday, 3 pm.
The two of you finally arrive at the elevator of your building. Home awaiting inbarely some floors. The number 0 illuminates, indicating you can finally open the door and enter the small space. Your elevator has always been tiny, but now, with this weird atmosphere in between this new Satoru and you, it feels twice smaller. Suffocating. You awkwardly arrange your shirt, as if it would allow you to breathe more normally.
Satoru stares at you, and you can feel it through his blindfold. His back nonchalantly against the wall. He grins seeing you more flustered than you want to let it show.
“You know, it feels weird that I can’t really treat you like my girlfriend right now. In my timeline, I would have already kissed you around fifteen times and we would have sex in the elevator,” he suddenly announces with no ounce of shame. You think you choke on your saliva, snapping your head towards his winning face. And it infuriates you.
“Oh my god, what?!” you exclaim. A pool of heat rushes to your lower abdomen at this fact, imagining your future self getting laid by Gojo Satoru right where you’re standing.
“Hmm, you’re freakier than you think, baby. It was one week ago for me, that we had sex in here,” he points it out with his chin, teeth showing as his lips stretch even more. You want to answer something, instead you pass your hand on your face and then point at him.
“I don’t want to know. Keep it for yourself,” you warn him, looking away. Because you can’t continue staring at the way he’s standing next to you, or else it will fry your brain.
“Sure thing,” he mocks. At the same time, the elevator’s doors open. You breathe relief when you rush outside. Yet, you feel Satoru stiffening and grabbing your arm, forcing you to slide to the side so he can stand before you.
“Y/n, stay behind me,” he suddenly orders with seriousness. You frown. He holds your wrist, teleporting you both inside your apartment. The second that follows goes so quickly you can’t even see what is happening. In a flash, Satoru is face to face, ready to strike against someone else that is as ready to kill as him.
When you blink, you can finally recognize the man before you. Satoru, but with scars all over his face, and arms. His outfit is different, buffer muscles, nothing to hide the coldness of his blue that lost all warmth in them. Something feels weird about him. It’s clearly not your Satoru.
Ok, what the fuck? Another one? What type of future is this? Nothing adds to make you feel hopeful when looking at him.
“I see I’m not the only one that traveled time. I guess you’re the me from the past,” says the scars Satoru, straightening his back and lowering his hands. But his voice shares no teasing, no arrogance, nothing. Just hollowness.
“And me from the future. What happened that got us all beaten up? Did we finally find a worthy opponent?” replies arrogantly the blindfolded one, a hint of tiny worry in his voice at seeing himself so… changed.
“Sukuna,” simply answers the older Satoru. The younger stops moving, understanding instantly, which leads in making you even more lost in this situation. You clear your throat to make your presence acknowledged. The new Satoru finally looks behind the other him, to see you standing awkwardly. His eyes widen, and a storm of emotions illuminates the dullness of his blue.
“What the hell is happening right no-” you start to answer before being cut off. “Y/n,” he breathes out, suddenly taking you in his arms with eagerness. His skin is cold, crushing you against his wounded chest and his nose inhaling your scent like a yearning man. He holds you close, because you feel like you’re his only life line at this instant. With the overwhelming emotion of this hug, you end up wrapping your arms around him under the watchful eye of the other Satoru.
“You’re here,” he murmurs in the crook of your neck. Confused, you part your lips. A shiver runs down your spine at the coolness of his mouth on your skin.
“I- of course, it’s my home. Why wouldn't I be here?” you ask, not understanding what is happening anymore. You’re not very surprised to see a new Satoru, yet it’s still baffling.
“But the question is, why are you here? I mean, did you travel back in time by accident too?” questions instead the blindfolded Satoru, staring at himself and analyzing every inch of his skin, the look on his face, his dull blue irises. Slowly, he parts from the hug. His hands nonetheless stay on your waist, unable to let go. Grip firm so you can’t disappear from his grasp.
“No, I found myself somewhere else. A district of Shinjuku, that’s where I initially was. I at first thought it was a domain expansion, before understanding that in some way I was back in 2014,” explains the scars Satoru, turning slightly to face the younger him.
“I too originally was in Shinjuku before I traveled back in time,” he answers thoughtfully, caressing his chin lost in questioning.
“Why coming here, then?” you end up asking. His eyes meet yours with such depth, that you even wonder if it’s really the Satoru you will know in the future, and not someone else.
“Because I wanted- no, needed to see you.” Words truthfully serious. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the hidden meaning of this answer.
“I see I’m still as smitten as I thought,” muses the other Gojo. Overwhelmed by the heavy atmosphere, you step back.
“You’re from 2018, I guess. Or 2017,” states the older one.
“Hmm, 2018, and you? I mean, me?”
“2018 too,” he confirms. You frown, and you see Satoru being flabbergasted by this answer before gaining back some normal facial expression.
“What the hell happened for you to change so much in the same year?” you ask in disbelief.
“Lots of things in barely a few weeks,” he says vaguely.
“All related to Sukuna, then. Guess I will have to change some things with yuji once I’m back to my timeline,” assumes the other Satoru, adjusting his blindfold in a sigh, already feeling twice the weight on his shoulders. To be honest, you don’t even know -yet- who Yuji is.
“Not only Sukuna,” corrects the scars Gojo in a way that only him can understand, a depth in his words that sets the mood colder.
“Eh. Not very reassuring,” tries to lighten the younger him. You decide to make things move a bit, so you begin to walk towards the living room.
“Let’s just sit on the couch. I need to charge my phone and call the Satoru of this timeline, to see if he still exists… and we’ll then figure out how to arrange this time traveling issue,” you explain as you directly walk towards your room, not waiting for an answer nor sparring them a glance. Once you’re inside, you shut the door and run to your charger. Immediately, you plug it in, and have to wait the agonizing seconds of your phone turning back on.
“I’m going to go nuts…” you grumble, typing your code and instantly pressing the contact of your best friend, hoping he’ll answer, proving that he’s still here with you in this timeline. It’s after three rings that someone picks up. Your heart jumps up and down and you blurt out.
“Satoru? Please tell me you’re-”
“Are you ok? You didn’t answer my calls nor my texts. I thought something happened,” interrupts his voice. God, it’s him. Really him. A wave of relief washes over you all at once. You slump back on the floor next to your charger, back against the bed.
“I’m good. My phone died. When are you back from your mission?”
“What? Wanna see me already? I thought you still were mad at me,” he teases and you’re sure you can imagine his smirk. You roll your eyes even if he can’t see you.
“There is more important to deal with right now,” you vaguely say. There is a pause.
“What do you mean? Did something happen?” his voice shows hints of seriousness.
“Quit lazing around and just kill that damn curse, then bring your ass to my apartment. And quick,” you order him instead. He chuckles, slightly relieved to not hear you panic or sound injured. Just mad and annoyed at him. That, he can handle.
“Yes ma’am. Love it when you’re so bossy, y’know?” he flirts. That only reminds you how you’ll be dating him in the future, and that he’s surely serious, not entirely joking around like you always thought. You clear your throat slightly.
“Satoru,” you warn.
“Coming!”
“Hurry,” you add, before finishing the call. At the same time, the door opens and the scars Gojo leans against the frame, gazing at you. Arms crossed over his chest.
“You okay in here?”
You stand up, leaving your phone to charge. “The you of this timeline still exists, he’s on his way and doesn’t know what he’s about to see,” you explain, following him back towards the living room. Your shoulders brush, his hand falls naturally on the small of your back. Then, his eyes, full of unconditional affection, bore into yours. Tenderly, his lips lingers on your head.
“If we’re here it’s for a reason, love,” he calls you this nickname that the Satoru of this timeline never used before. And it falls so prettily out of his mouth, rolling down his tongue with ease. It shows how often he must have used it. That shakes you.
“Don’t do that, she’ll get all embarrassed. We’re still not dating her in this timeline,” interferes the younger Satoru, bringing you back to the couch. You end up sitting in between the two of them, completely sandwiched. Thighs touching, arms tucked, warmth englobing. But the thing that actually bothers you is the mocking tone he just used. You glare at him and tell him to shut up.
“Oh, I forgot. So many things happened that it feels like a lifetime by your side,” chuckles the older Satoru, tilting his head to the side and letting his Six Eyes travel your body up and down. A shiver runs down your spine
“Can’t you heal yourself back? I mean, you’re scars,” instantly asks blindfold Satoru. Indeed, you thought the same thing. Gojo Satoru has the infinity that protects him from attacks or anything touching him. Then, he has his rct to heal his wounds. Is Sukuna, the king of the curses, that powerful to leave him in this physical and mental state?
“My brain is kind of fried right now,” he justifies in a nervous laugh.
“It really is a messed up future awaiting me,” Satoru replies. You raise your eyebrows, looking at him intrigued and finally breaking your silence.
“He told you what happened? Can I know too?”
“No, it’s better you don’t. And he doesn’t know everything,” answers scars Gojo, redirecting your attention back to him. You scoff.
“What? I’m not a kid, I can handle the truth,” you retort.
“I kind of agree with myself right now,” adds blindfold Satoru.
“Of course you do,” you mock. A sigh escapes your lips. “But… If you two manage to go back to your respective timeline, I hope things will change for the better. I mean, from what you vaguely said it doesn’t seem like a lot of happiness and order is awaiting us,” you end up saying.
“No, it’s not,” confirms the older Satoru with gravity and truthness.
“Wow, we’re really a moodkiller now,” lightens the younger. Starting with this, the conversation continues. They exchange some information about the situation, and you explain in return the day you had before the incident happened, trying to see what anomaly could have caused this intricate situation. But after some minutes, you notice how the two of them snap their heads to the door at the same moment.
“The other us is arriving,” says scars Gojo. You part your lips before laughing slightly of disbelief.
“What kind of spider sense is that?”
“It’s a Gojo Satoru thing, baby,” answers blindfold Satoru.
The door opens, and you rush at his side. Your Satoru. It’s barely been a few hours that you both parted ways, but it felt like an eternity. So many things happened. Your original anger towards him shifted to need and relief once his eyes behind his sunglasses meet yours. Time seems to stop because his body is already in a fighting stance. Muscles contracting, gaze sharpening, cursed energy flickering. He feels them. He feels him.
“What the hell is going on?” he asks instantly. Surely he recognizes his cursed energy. Thinking it might be family, the Gojo Clan coming to pay a visit. But that can’t be possible.
“Hey younger me. Oh- that’s so cool, I forgot I had this pair of glasses back then!” exclaims cheerfully the blindfold Satoru that suddenly appears right behind you. You jump of surprise, yet another hand ends on your shoulder.
“I found them back not so long ago. I mean, it’s y/n that did,” adds scars Satoru. Now, you’re side by side with the future versions of him, while he faces you three in disbelief, before quickly trying to understand what is happening. You notice how his Six Eyes must definitely scalp every part of their being, searching for anything that would prove it’s not a doppelgänger or something similar. Scanning the cursed energy, the soul, the body.
“That definitely can’t be a curse’s doing,” he mutters, lifting back his gaze.
“Nah, no curse. We’re smart uh?” compliments the blindfold Satoru to the younger him, glad they’re on the same page.
“You’re me from the future,” he states, pointing at the two of them.
“And I figured it’s surely our own cursed energy’s doing,” explains the older one, which is an information that you still didn’t quite understand earlier, when they were exchanging about it on the couch.
“Ok, I think we need to all talk together now that you’re here,” you cut the conversation and lead back the three of them in your living room that seems incredibly tiny once the four of you stand in it. First, you explain the situation to your Satoru. Then, quite fast, they engage all in questionings, suppositions, things they say you don’t even understand because only Gojo Satoru’s brain knows. Himself, not even you.
You go silent, not even having any idea of what you could possibly propose. You’re as lost as them. Intimidated too. You never asked to be in this situation. But now you’re with your Satoru, another one that claims to be your boyfriend, and a third that went through hell and is apparently still your partner too.
And that’s how the conversation continued to go on, leading you to the situation of the beginning, losing patience and needing to go take some fresh air. Walking down the street to clear your head and bring back some sense to your thoughts.
The three of them think it’s their own cursed energy that brought them here, an anomaly that got triggered by the same thing through space and time.
But what did trigger them? That’s the question. Maybe they’re talking about it right now, but with how chaotic the conversation started to be, you doubt they do. Maybe they’re bickering. Apparently Satoru has a hard time standing himself. That’s ironic. You hope, if there is an end to this situation, he’ll come back from it like a new man that stops being so annoying. Even if you do love him for who he is.
When you come back, you expect to find some mess. Actually, not much. Only the way they all look at you when you take off your jacket.
“Found anything?” you ask, approaching the couch. The moment you’re about to sit back down, scars Satoru’s arm swings around your waist and makes you sit on his lap, lips grazing your shoulder.
“We’re still brainstorming, sweetheart,” he explains in a soft voice that makes your lower abdomen do this weird thing. You tighten your fingers on your thigh.
“What are you doing?” snarls your Satoru to the older him, standing back up.
“Oh my god, I’m being jealous of myself. That’s sooo intriguing,” muses the blindfolded one, smirking at what he’s witnessing. Sensing the tension, the Satoru you’re sitting on opens his arm to let you have the free access you need to sit on the couch instead of his lap. You do so, sighing.
“Jealous? No, it’s just the me from the future being a weirdo,” he argues.
“That’s alright, he’s- you’re not a weirdo, Satoru,” you try to calm him down, but clearly, none of them wants to stop biting.
“Still didn’t change,” retorts scars Gojo. Your Satoru points at the two of them, accusatory. It’s rare to see him act like this. Jealous. Which is ironic, coming from him, and caused by himself. “Yeah well, stay away from my y/n, you have yours from your own timeline,” he exclaims.
“It’s still my y/n, it’s just she’s not yet our girlfriend, so I sadly can’t give her all the kisses I want,” wines blindfold Satoru that coos his head against yours, and you ignore him, waiting to see the reaction after he revealed that the two of you would be dating in the future.
“What? Girlfriend?” he questions in disbelief, eyes widening behind his glasses. His irises trail over your form, maybe searching for an answer, but you quite do the opposite.
“Bro, don’t tell him!” you end up nudging the one at fault, giving him the nastiest glare you have in reserve.
“Calling your boyfie ‘bro’?” he chuckles as his nose digs in your neck to annoy you, and you try to not physically react at this intimate proximity you’re not entirely used to. Not yet, more exactly.
“Husband,” corrects the scars Satoru with a hint of pride in his voice. And, that seems to break the chaotic banter for a solid ten seconds. All eyes on him, including yours that are so widely opened you’re scared they’ll dry. Your lips part, and you swear you want to say something, but having this information of your future revealed is making you speechless. It’s only now that you notice the ring on his ring. You want to curse at yourself for not seeing something so obvious before.
You’re going to marry Gojo Satoru. He’s not only your best friend, nor a soon to be boyfriend. No. He’ll be your husband. Hu-sband. It sounds incredibly foreign in your head.
“What?” ends up saying the youngest Satoru, raising his glasses on top of his head to maybe have a better look at the truthness of his words.
“In my timeline, she’s my wife,” he continues to explain.
“Excuse me?” you finally say in a nervous chuckle. “You’re excused,” he simply answers to tease you. To tease you in such a normal way as if what he just dropped wasn’t the biggest news of your entire life. A fly is seriously going to enter your mouth if you don’t close it.
“That went quickly! I was already planning on proposing next week. I see we didn’t lose time,” cheers the blindfold Satoru, the biggest smile on his lips, hugging you closer like the happiest man in the world.
“We’re married,” whispers the youngest, hand passing over his face with trembling fingers. You wonder what he’s thinking right now, aside from the tip of his ears turning red. Blushing.
“I’m going to explode if you all don’t stop tal-” you try to stop them from adding anything else that will blow your mind. What next, you’re pregnant? Already have 5 kids? You’re a grandma?
“We’re married…,” ends up repeating your Satoru with a gigantic smirk, gazing at you. That makes you swallow your saliva.
“Satoru,” you warn him. “Yes?” the three of them answer.
“Not you! I mean, yes. No. Ugh, just shut up for once, for God’s sake!” you lose yourself in your own words, starting to feel again overwhelmed by all this.
“Easy baby,” tries to calm you down your supposed boyfriend, biting his lower lip at seeing you angry like this. Your heart beats quicker.
“Don’t start,” you say, and your supposed husband, this time, lets his fingers on your shoulders then slide on your nape to attend to your tensed muscles. “Someone is left out…” he muses, looking at the Gojo of this timeline that has to stare at you being sandwiched by the future versions of himself.
“Hey,” you have again to warn, stopping him from adding anything else. “Instead of playing around, got any suggestions on the anomaly that started all this?” you decide to change the subject by asking him, for a second looking at the ring on his finger.
“You, me, a place,” he enumerates.
“Me?” you ask. The two others stay silent to let him explain.
“Yes, look. The other me arrived in your timeline when he was in a district in Shinjuku. I too was originally in the same district. And the Satoru from here went on a mission in the same street too. So firstly, the three of us were at the exact same place the moment it arrived,” he slowly starts to clarify.
So your Satoru was earlier on a mission in Shinjuku. Your mission was too here. Everyone was there, actually. Now, you’re sure that with the fight you had before, he on purpose chose to go on this mission to maybe keep an eye on you. Instead, it’s a version of him from the future that went to your help. The irony. A lot of things are ironic today.
“It explains the place, stills doesn’t explain how it would be linked to y/n, or to our cursed energy,” frowns your Satoru, thoughtful.
“One of us triggered something in particular,” adds the blindfolded one.
“I think it was me,” sighs scars Gojo, passing his hand on his face in an enigmatic way.
“What do I even do in this equation?” you question, still confused.
“The moment I traveled back in time was when I wished the most for your safety, and to help you, including… needing help. I never felt like this before. I guess I was hurting so bad that something shifted with my cursed energy,” he continues to explain, vaguely explaining his situation. On purpose not mentioning the details. For your safety? Were you hurt? You start to wonder what happened.
“So, if we’re here, it’s to answer the need of y/n’s safety that you made,” he elucidates, toying with the black tissue around his eyes.
“When I thought I was about to die, you came to my safety at the last second,” you add, pointing at him.
“You did what I failed to do. I was in the same district with another mission,” gravely continues your Satoru, seriousness washing over his tortured face at the thought he wasn’t here for you when you needed it. Worse, you refused his help earlier that morning.
“I don’t know if this timeline is different from mine, but the y/n of the future is very much alive and well. She wouldn’t have died on that mission, even if I wasn’t here,” reassures the Satoru that came to your help. At his words, you nod, relieved to remind yourself of this logical fact.
“Yeah, he’s right. I’m fine right now, I’m fine too in his future, why would they be here?” you intend to cheer up.
“To help me prevent something that’ll happen in the future, related to you, maybe,” adds scars Satoru, sounding almost defeated, voice unusually cracking at the maybe. You gaze at him, starting to worry.
“How can you all go back?” you decide to ask.
“Maybe once we managed to, I have no idea,” he sighs, hand with the ring brushing his hair out of his forehead.
“Wait wait, what you’re saying is not very reassuring. What will happen to y/n?” interferes your Satoru, frowning.
“It’s Sukuna, isn’t he?” supposes the other one, voice uncharacteristically deep. There is a pause. Satoru looks into your eyes. You close your mouth, trying to ready yourself for whatever he’s about to announce.
“Sukuna killed you,” he whispers.
It feels like the sky is falling over your head. You shiver of terror, nails digging in your thighs at the revelation of your death. Assassinated, by the king of the curses. In four years. Your blood turns cold, and you barely pay attention to the heavy silence or the facial expressions of the others. Your world just got crushed in a few words, and you physically have to restrain yourself to not fall apart after this horrifying news.
“You’re kidding,” grits bitterly the middle Gojo, almost barking his words out of his mouth.
“How could we have let it happen?!” explodes your Satoru, voice raising of utter anger, not accepting what he just heard.
“I was too late, too tired, it happened when I wasn’t looking for a second, and I hate myself for it. You gave your last breath in my arms. And that’s when I traveled back in time, wishing so badly to prevent this from ever happening,” he croaks from his tightened throat, having a hard time saying out loud what happened. You look down at your hands, trying to fathom your death that will soon arrive in 4 years.
“We can’t let this happen again, I won’t lose y/n,” scoffs your Satoru, while you’re shaking.
“You okay?” softly asks your supposed husband. You snap back out of your thoughts.
“That’s hard to swallow,” you shake your head, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.
“I swear on our life. If I managed to travel back in time, and even triggered another me from the future, that means we’re here to have a second chance,” he tries to reassure you, make you believe there is a chance you’ll survive and won’t meet such fate.
“So you’ll only go back to your timeline once the future of y/n is secured from getting killed by Sukuna?” he asks, putting back his glasses on the edge of his nose.
“I think so,” your husband sighs.
“Then there’s only one thing to do,” announces another one, standing up from the couch and adjusting his blindfold. You raise back your head, shooting your hand to his wrist to stop him from going anywhere.
“Wait! I don’t know what you guys want to do, but only one of you can go out, not all at once. We can’t have three Gojo Satoru in the wild,” you exclaim.
“Right. And me, with the scars, it’s impossible,” nods the other, looking at the red lines on his pearly white skin.
“Guess we’ll have to take turns,” mutters a seemingly tired Satoru, fingers pinching his nose, under his sunglasses. “I’ll go get the first Sukuna’s finger. Guess we’ll have to steal as much away,” he adds.
“How long will it take?” you frown, slightly shivering at the name of the entity that will end your life.
“As far as I know, and as much as we can hide, it’s for a few days,” explains the Satoru still behind you, hands scattered in scars on your lower back.
“To not raise any suspicion, while one Satoru goes to get the fingers, the other will continue his normal usual life, doing the missions, the teaching, and nobody will suspect a thing. Then, we’ll all meet back at my apartment,” you order, pointing at the two concerned.
“Then that means I’m stuck here,” sighs Satoru, head falling on your shoulder.
“I’ll try to keep you company,” you pat his arm, slightly surprised to notice how his biceps are bigger compared to the younger versions of himself.
“Hey, don’t go and have a favorite version of me,” pouts your timeline Satoru.
“He deserves more affection than you,” you retort, half joking, half serious. After all, he’s the Gojo that went through the hell of his fight with Sukuna and had you dying in his arms. Well, maybe you’ll need some comfort too after knowing this terrible fact about your future.
“And I’m her husband,” he shows the ring.
“Whatever! We’ll start this plan tomorrow. Now, we need rest,” you interrupt, smacking your hands on your lap as you stand straight up.
“I’ll rather start now-” intends to protest the blindfolded one, which you interrupt. “No, you’ll rest,” and you walk towards the kitchen.
“I’m right,” tries to convince your Satoru. You sigh, already exhausted and not wanting to deal more with their stubbornness.
“You’ll sleep. We have time. I’m far from dead in this timeline,” you retort, opening the fridge and lowering your back to search for something that’ll be the main ingredient for dinner.
“Well, I’ll sleep in the bed tonight,” one of them announces, lifting his blindfold to look at the fridge by your side, analyzing the food you have in 2014.
“And me?” you scoff at the audacity.
“You’ll obviously sleep with me, I’m your boyfriend,” he smirks, winking at you with his twinkling blue eyes.
“And I’m her husband, so we’ll share the three of us,” appears the other behind you, arm wrapping around your waist. You swallow hardly your saliva.
“Wow, I’m the Satoru of this reality, I’ll sleep with y/n like I always do,” he retorts as he quickly follows in the kitchen.
“Yeah, no. You’ll take the couch or go back to the campus,” refuses your future husband, softly using his thumb to caress the skin under your shirt, which you do your best to ignore.
“What, afraid we’ll do a threesome?” adds the other Satoru teasingly.
“Can’t you just shut your mouth?!” you snap at him, wanting to take his blindfold and gag him so he’ll finally stop talking nonsense.
“That’s right, the me of this timeline was too shy to make a real move,” muses scars Gojo, and your Satoru parts his lips in silence, having his own insecurities exposed by himself being the strangest thing to happen, because he knows he can’t lie or protest his own words.
“Bullying yourself is such a weird thing to witness, but anyways, we’ll figure out the sleeping matter after dinner,” you finish, glaring at all of them to stop bickering and instead start cooperating.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 1 am.
The rest of the evening was chaotic. You ended up ordering food, because feeding one Satoru is already a challenge to satisfy his hunger, but three of them is suicide. For the shower time, the future versions of himself were about to bring you with them in the bath, apparently used to do so, and it’s the one of your timeline that saved you last minute before seeing them/himself butt naked.
It’s only later that you managed to lay in your bed, yet stuck sleeping in between the two versions of him, while your Satoru got kicked out on the couch. You knew he for sure would have a horrible mood in the morning. But now, you can’t seem to fall asleep, limbs a tangled mess. Hot breaths in your neck. Arms around your waist. Satoru being clingy is an understatement. But two of them, that are even less afraid to let it all out because they’re your boyfriend and husband, means you can’t breathe.
“Can’t sleep?” whispers scars Satoru, snapping you out of your thoughts. You swallow your saliva, realizing your nose is brushing his when you turn it around to face him. His eyes glow in the dark, and you sigh, nodding.
“Thinking about everything that happened, I guess?” he asks.
“Of course I do,” you answer, head sinking on the pillow. His thumb brushes your cheek, tenderly.
“I wish I could help you to fall asleep, but my techniques won’t be happily accepted,” he adds. You hear the other Satoru shifting a bit behind you. You hope he won’t wake up.
“What do you do in your timeline then? To help me sleep when I can’t,” you question, looking back at him. It’s when a grin tugs on his lips that you expect the type of answer he’ll give you.
“Having sex until it wears you out,” he whispers in a knowing voice. You freeze and feel heat pouring in your stomach, biting the inside of your cheek at his seductive words.
“Oh,” you mutter, flashes of images describing what he just said in your head. You, getting laid on this bed until you fall asleep, exhausted. Ok, that’s one way to put it.
“But I guess I won’t now, so we’ll have to find an alternative,” he continues, chuckling softly.
“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. He looks at you, surely analyzing your facial expression. A tiny sigh escapes his lips.
“Ah… come here,” he murmurs, opening his arm. You roll your tongue against your teeth, looking at his chest.
“I don’t think I can come closer than I already am,” you say in a nervous laugh.
“Yes you can,” he scoffs, suddenly bringing you against his torso. Your nose stuffed on his chest, his arms rolling around your back to keep you tucked against him. Sensing your body moving away, and the small emptiness it felt, the other Satoru catches back the space in his sleep. He glues himself to your back, sandwiching you completely in between the two of them. Oh, if your Satoru saw that, you wonder how he’ll react to himself.
“Ugh-” you mutter at the suffocating proximity. But the only answer you have is a silent chuckle. Some seconds pass, and you strangely find yourself comforted in their presences. The warmth, the cuddling, you feel safe and sound.
“Good night,” you end up murmuring.
“Good night y/n.” Lips kiss your forehead. You close your eyes.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 11 am.
You've been left alone since the morning at the older Satoru’s side. The other two left to start the plan. One went to search for Sukuna’s fingers and a way to hide them somewhere else, and the other to act like the normal Satoru that would attend to his usual duties and routine.
Thankfully, being on Sunday, not like The Strongest, you have no work on this day. Completely free to do whatever you want. So you spend it with him, doing what you’re used to doing with the Satoru of your timeline, which is weird because it’s all things he does now differently as your husband.
Like, baking pastries. The way his lips kiss the corner of your mouth to taste the chocolate you just ate. Or how he stands behind you, strong arms helping with the mixing of the dough. Hands holding yours to accompany your movements. When he openly lets his eyes roam over your figure, lovingly or hungrily sizing you down with no shame. Because why would he hide it when he’s your husband?
Or when later in the afternoon, after lunch, you’re watching a movie to pass time. Keeping you close, not wanting to let you go, barely staring at the screen. His eyes are on you all the time. Head plopped on the couch and lazily dropping his arm around your middle. Thumb gently caressing your hip, enough to drag your thoughts away from the screen.
“Satoru, you’re not watching,” you end up saying. You glance at the scars on his arms, his bicep snaking onto your body.
“I am,” he retorts.
“Seriously?” you let out a chuckle as you finally turn your head to face him, realizing how actually close his head is positioned towards yours.
“I just don’t want to look away,” he continues in a gentler voice, eyes tempting yours in the depth of his sky blue irises. You feel your stomach dropping, realizing why he means that.
“I’m not going to disappear,” you whisper gently. Anxiety seems to eat away at his heart. Fingers tightening on your waist.
“You did,” he protests.
“I’m alive right now, and… as you told me, if you traveled back in time it’s for a reason. I’m sure the plan will succeed,” you try to reassure him, but reassure yourself as well. Satoru gets closer.
“But the question is: would this plan only change the future of this timeline but not my own present? What if it succeeds here, and when I’ll be back in my reality, I’ll realize it only worked for the you in here, and not the you of there?” he suddenly asks, and by the intensity of his eyes and the truthness of his words, you know what he’s saying is a real dilemma. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it will work for you, but never change the path his own reality took. The other Satoru will have a chance too to protect you, as he’s still months away before your death. But the you of his timeline is already dead. And, you’ll never know if it worked for the two of them too, because you’ll never see these exact versions of Satoru again.
“Oh.. I actually don’t know,” you whisper, suddenly so unsure. Having nothing to say, to reassure.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it. It’s for that, just in case it is the last time I see you, I don’t want to take my eyes off you, y/n,” he implores, his other hand gently cupping your cheek. The movie is long forgotten. Your gaze meets his again, you part your lips slightly.
“Then don’t,” are the only words you manage to murmur back. Your heart hammers in your chest at the proximity, his head intimately closer. His eyes fall eagerly on your lips, and you swallow hard. The temptation becomes hard. Everything you ever wanted in the palm of his hand. His head tilts to the side. When your lips brush, you think you’re going to melt. You just felt the softness of his mouth for a millisecond, and it was enough to drive you crazy for more.
But, common sense interrupts in your brain, and you slightly push him away.
“Wait- I… I don’t think it’s fair that I kiss you when I still never kissed my own Satoru,” you explain, looking down because if you look up, all resolve will falter.
“I’ll surely be jealous of myself,” he agrees with a tiny laugh to ease the tension.
“Yeah…” you simply nod, imagining taking possession of his lips, his mouth devoting yours, tasting his tongue.
“I wish I had more guts, back then,” he confesses, implying he just wants to kiss you so badly right now, but won’t because of this.
“I think with everything that is happening, it will change,” you smile slightly. He gives you back the smile, then his eyes shoot at the door. He drops his hand from your cheek and casually leans back to give you more space.
“One of us is coming back,” he simply states. At the same moment, the door opens and the Satoru of your timeline enters. His bandage around his eyes, he starts to untie it while kicking his shoes. He seems to analyze what is going on in the living room.
“Watching a movie without me? I mean, the me… whatever, you understood,” he starts to say, lazily walking towards you.
“What about the fingers?” you ask when he sits in a grunt at your side.
“I went to put two of them somewhere else, sealed in a place that only me knows. So, sorry y/n, just in case I won’t say where. For your safety, the less you know, the better,” he explains.
“Agreed,” nods the other Satoru. You sigh. You understand why. If a curse, or whatever person kidnapped you, torture you or threaten you to tell you where are Sukuna’s fingers, they will surely stop when they’ll realize you have no idea of their location.
“But to not raise any more suspicion, we’ll have to continue tomorrow. Two in one day is already way enough, or else it would be too noticeable. I had to balance the cursed energy around the places I took it, and fight some curses that popped,” he continues to explain, tilting his head to the side and noticing the yet still present and lingering proximity in between you and the other him.
“How many fingers of the twenty do you think it will take before the future versions of you go back to your own timeline?” you ask the older.
“Eh, dunno. It will be a total surprise,” he shrugs, his thumb leaving your waist.
“How is doing the other us?” he ends up asking to the younger version of himself. That makes him grin at the question.
“All pissy that he had to take back my duties, but I won’t complain, it felt good to finally do something else than my paperwork and missions,” he admits, smirking.
“You’re just taking revenge because we made you sleep on the couch,” you point at him, and he raises his hands to show he’s guilty, but doesn’t care one bit.
“Yeah, and I decided that we’ll take turns. Tonight, I’ll sleep on the bed,” he affirms, and you realize he really took it badly that he got kicked out of the shared bed of his own timeline by some kind of doppelgängers, even if they technically aren’t.
“Alright, I’m good for taking turns,” agrees the other.
“I have literally no say in this,” you sigh.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Tuesday, 8 pm.
Two more days pass, and they are taking turns on who sleeps with you or on the couch. In the spawn of this short time, a routine started. In the morning, the two Satoru leave. One to attend to his usual duties, the other to search for Sukuna’s fingers, hiding them somewhere else and locked, while dealing with everything he carefully has to take care of. You don’t really know how much longer, or fingers, it will take before your safety in this timeline is succeeded and that the two of them will disappear. Every morning, you say goodbye to the blindfold Satoru just in case.
On the other hand, you stay at the apartment to keep scars Satoru’s company when you’re not going on a mission. Doing the usual. But, in all honesty, the tension keeps growing. Touches, kisses on your skin but never on your lips, never enough to cross a boundary. Lingering hands, stares. When the two Satoru come back home, they feel the tension. And when the three of them are reunited, you almost suffocate at all the attention you’re receiving. Even your own Satoru starts to be more open about his love for you. After all, it’s no real secret that the two of you love each other with the proof of it right before your eyes. Yet, he still doesn’t kiss you. Or do anything else. Maybe he’s waiting for the two of him to disappear and finally have the intimacy he really wants to have.
But it’s starting to make you go crazy, in all honesty. Aching to be touched, to have more. But the three of them restrain themselves right before it goes too far. It’s toying with your nerves. Your patience.
Like now. When you’re showering, and the door casually opens, letting the Satoru that is your boyfriend enter with no shame.
“Baby, come eat, we tried to bake-” he starts to say before you suddenly hide your body with your hands, having no shower curtain but only a glass.
“Ah! Get out!” you yelp, and you swear you see how his eyes flicker on your body before he turns around, back facing you to give you some privacy.
“Oops, my bad, I forgot for a sec you’re not my girlfriend yet,” he apologizes with no ounce of regret. You stare at his back and carefully continue to shower, quickly scrubbing the soap on your limbs.
“You tend to forget a lot,” you snarl in a scoff.
“Not like I never saw you naked. We always shower together now. I kind of miss it. Want me to rub your back?” he ends up asking, tilting his head enough to show his profile, without being able to look at you. You’re quite caught off guard by his nonchalant question, sounding so natural, and it must be in his own timeline.
“Well- the you of here never did, so you know the answer,” you end up answering.
“Alright, just saying. Because I know you love when I scratch that right spot on your back when I wash it,” he muses, and you swallow hard.
“The one I can’t reach?”
“Yep,” he confirms. Fuck, that’s tempting. For many reasons. First, there is no logical meaning in hiding yourself when he already knows perfectly every inch of your naked body. Second, that spot is the one you always struggle to reach, and God knows how you yearn for someone to do it for you whenever you take a shower. Third, you can’t help but want to jump in this sexual tension that is ridiculously becoming stronger at every one of your breaths.
“Alright… but keep your eyes closed!” you end up accepting. You swear you notice the way his lips curve in a winning smile.
“If you insist,” he hums, and turns around. In a reflex you hide yourself again, but his eyes are closed. He approaches carefully, then soon his hands fall on your back. You silently give him the shower flower, and he slides it on your skin to rub it slowly. You can feel his breath falling on your nape, the strong grip yet careful hands holding your waist. You’re fully naked, he’s not, and it’s a vulnerability that makes your mind go crazy. Inch by inch, he reaches the spot and aside of the shower flower, he lets his long finger press onto it. You bite your lower lip, a sound of relief escaping your mouth.
“This is where you’re weak, right?” he whispers in a tempting voice. You fluster.
“Don’t start with your perverse mind,” you intend to warn him, but it fails miserably.
“I never said anything perverted, it’s you interpreting it like that. Maybe because you want me sooo bad right now,” he drawls in your ear, and you shiver head to toe.
“Oh my god, stop talking!” you nudge him.
“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles. Suddenly, the door slightly opens again, and the Satoru of your timeline, aka your best friend, enters to search for you or the other Satoru.
“Why are you not-” he starts to say, before being cut. “I’m coming!” he says leaving your back, without a small tap on your shoulder and stepping out of the shower with a bright smile. You hide yourself under the water.
“The hell you’re doing here?” snaps your Satoru, carefully not looking at you to not embarrass you. You just want to disappear right now. It’s deadly embarrassing.
“Washing her back?” answers nonchalantly the cause of the problem.
“I should be the one doing that,” he retorts, and your eyes widen. You quickly wrap a towel around you, not believing he said that, your Satoru.
“Then do, what are you waiting for?” taunts the other with provocation.
“Hey, I’m still right here!” you exclaim, pushing him away so you can stand on the shower mat, tightly keeping the towel around your body.
“Sorry baby, I’ll go back to the kitchen to help the other me bake the dessert,” he shrugs, kissing your cheek under the burning eyes of your Satoru.
“Don’t eat all the dough or the chocolate!” exclaims the younger him while he watches him step out of the bathroom.
“Come on, I’m sure you already ate half of it,” he laughs.
“You know yourself well,” he smirks in return, and now the two of you are left alone. You continue to stand on the shower mat, water dripping on your skin, droplets rolling down your limbs. Satoru stares, hands on the sink and caging you in between his arms. You look at him through the mirror, wondering why he’s letting his eyes roam over you like this.
“What?”
“I’m just looking,” he defends himself.
“Yeah, totally not digging holes on my skin with your eyes,” you answer sarcastically. Instead, you’re met by his biceps pressing against you and bringing your body against his chest. His face digs in your neck, and slowly his eyes lock with yours in the mirror.
“Stay with me, y/n. Not with these two impostors. I’m your Satoru,” he utters, thumb caressing your arm.
“We’re not in Among Us,” you retort at him calling himself impostors.
“Yes we are,” he wines, nose brushing against your neck, your throat. You swallow hard and try to inhale normally.
“You’re a crybaby,” you weakly say.
“Can’t I feel a bit possessive over my future wife?” he muses, and his lips boldly brush your jaw. You think your heart is hammering as widely as a horse from the far far west. His arms contract around your body.
“Don’t mention that,” you whisper, not sure you can face this reality with him.
“Right,” he grins. You end up nudging him away gently.
“I’ll go change and let’s go eat,” you say, and don’t wait for his answer to rush to your room. The door slams behind you, and you let your back against it as you pass your hand on your face.
You’re going to die from a heart stroke before Sukuna’ll have the pleasure to do so if it continues like this.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Friday, 7 pm.
“Again with sweets? Cut on the sugar for today-” you try to stop scars Satoru that is holding a square of chocolate. He brings it up, then back down towards your lips.
“Just taste it. I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about you,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow while he stands closer towards you.
“Before I eat everything else,” adds another voice, blindfold over his eyes. He keeps it most of the time so you can easily recognize and see the difference between him and the Satoru of this timeline.
“Don’t before we eat dinner,” you sigh, knowing how he’ll surely stuff himself with sugary things before actually eating a real dish.
“Yep, the delivery is soon here,” intervenes your Satoru, walking in the kitchen with his eyes on his phone to check when the food will arrive.
“Come on, open your mouth,” taunts scars Gojo, bringing the chocolate against your lips.
“Seriously?” you ask, deadpan. He smirks. “Say ahhhh,” he tempts, and you end up sighing before parting your lips and letting his thumb slide the chocolate against your tongue. Your eyes are locked on his, feeling a warmth enveloping your face at the way he eagerly stares at your lips. Then, his thumb slides on your tongue and leaves your mouth in a loud pop.
“Atta girl,” he teases, and you munch on the chocolate to think about something else aside from the tension it just ignited in your heart. But a hand shoots at your wrist, and you realize it’s your own Satoru, holding his phone on the other hand.
“The guy is here. Y/n, come with me take the food downstairs,” he says, walking you out of the kitchen. You raise your eyebrow, confused.
“Isn’t the delivery guy supposed to come directly to my door?” you question.
“Not this one, so come,” he replies quickly. You feel the two other Satoru stare at the interaction until the door of the entry of your apartment slams behind you. Instead of walking down the stairs, his hand intertwines with your fingers and something in the air shifts. Suddenly, you find yourself on the rooftop of the building. The wind caresses your face, the moon already showing in the sky turning dark.
“I lied, he’ll arrive in ten minutes,” announces Satoru before you can even say something. You look around, the city lights illuminating the streets under you.
“What the-,” you start to say. “We’re on the rooftop. I just wanted to be alone with you, without the impostors,” he explains, hand still firmly holding yours. He leans his back on the railing, looking down at you that finds yourself standing before him.
“They are you,” you retort.
“Well, can’t wait for this plan to finish so both your survival will succeed, and they’ll finally disappear and go back to their own timeline with their own y/n,” he explains, thumb caressing your palm in a way that electrifies your epidermis.
“You’re really jealous of yourself?” you ask, tilting your head to the side mockingly.
“They’re taking all your attention, doing filthy things. I should be the one instead, not them,” he argues, bringing your hand to his lips. A lingering kisses, eyes staring at yours with such intensity it contrasts with the night taking control of the setting sun.
“Well, the older you said that in this timeline you’re not bold enough,” you provoke him. He raises his eyebrows, lifting his head to look down at you. His cursed energy vibrates. Your heart jumps up and down.
“Bold enough? Hmm, let’s see,” he takes the bait, suddenly showing all his teeth in a smile. His hand tug on yours, bringing you to his chest. His other hand snakes on your neck, then cups your cheek. Before you can comprehend what is happening, his lips smash yours. The kiss is eager, hungry, making you shiver with pleasure. Your eyelids flutter and you don’t wait any more second to answer the kiss.
His tongue enters your mouth, hot breath mingling together. Your lips mold against his, the sweet taste you craved for years melting on your tastebuds. Your free arm finds his nape, going on your tiptoes to reach the kiss better.
“They’re right. Dunno why I waited so long to do this,” he whispers against your mouth. Your chuckle is stopped by his lips crashing again on yours. It’s even more passionate, trying to press you as physically possible against him, to feel you. The heat rises at all speed. You want more. He wants more. He can’t seem to stop, drowning in finally having you to himself.
You lose track of time until his phone rings. The delivery. In a grunt, he parts ways. His hand leaves your cheek to adjust his hair.
“Food is here.”
“Then let’s go,” you nod and tug him towards the stairs.
“This is only postponed to later,” he muses, talking about the kiss. You bite your lower lip, images flashing before your eyes.
You two go to grab the food, and come back. The dinner is again a chaos of talking, the three of them almost fighting over your attention. Your Satoru is twice bolder now that he finally crossed that invisible line in between you two. And the others obviously noticed it with a knowing look.
Nothing is stopping them now from doing the same.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Friday, 11 pm.
Sitting on the bed, it seems like they’re fighting over who will sleep on the couch. You stare at them, annoyance rising, until you snap and stand up.
“I’ll take the couch since you guys can’t decide for God’s sake,” you announce, turning around towards the door. Yet, a hand grabs your arm and makes you fall back down on the mattress.
“Wait wait wait. You’re not going anywhere, stay here,” says your Satoru, eyes finding yours and almost imploring you to not leave him alone.
“He’s right, maybe he should take the couch since he’s not your boyfriend yet,” teases the blindfolded one, scooting closer.
“I am now, so what?” he retorts with conviction and confidence. You fluster, realizing that what happened with that kiss was the proof of your newly romantic relationship. But acknowledging it like this so bluntly surprised you nonetheless.
“Ohhh, quicker than it was supposed to be,” adds the older Satoru, tilting his head cockily as he stares at the two of you.
“That changes a lot of things,” drawls the other, lifting his blindfold to have a better sight. You tense at the proximity of them three, digging your nails in the bed.
“We can’t sleep the four of us in here,” you change the subject in hope it would ease the heavy atmosphere that keeps thickening every more second.
“Who talked about sleeping?” asks Satoru with his finger still hooked under his blindfold, before slowly sliding it to the edge, toying with the tissue in a way that makes you swallow back any confidence.
“A bed is made for sleeping,” you end up simply saying.
“Not only,” he smiles brightly, and he knows that you know what he means. So, being twice embarrassed, you jump on top of him trying to erase that arrogant smirk off his face. He falls back down on the bed, fully letting you do as you please. Not even protesting in the slightest.
“I swear, I’ll shut your mouth myself!” you exclaim, and he stares at your lips while he bites his. You hear a laugh behind you, surely one of them finding your reaction amusing, or cute, maybe even ridiculous. You don’t know.
“Do, I’m aching for this,” he taunts. You go silent, and part your mouth as you let the burning need of kissing him possessing your mind.
“Don’t tempt me,” you whisper, slowly digging down. Before you can connect your skin to his, a hand covers your lips and brings you away, against a chest.
“Nuh-uh, if you’re going to kiss me, it won’t be him,” protests your Satoru, face rubbing against your cheek and letting his thumb caress your jaw then the plump of your lower lip.
“Can’t share?” laughs scars Gojo, coming closer.
“Don’t think so,” he retorts, keeping you against his chest.
“I think it’s y/n opinions that matters, not ours,” intervenes the other Satoru that entirely lifted his blindfold so he could fully analyze every tiny of your reactions. “And I know what my baby wants,” he adds.
“You guys are making me go nuts,” you whisper in a short breath, surrounded by their three bodies.
“I only want to be the one to kiss your lips,” complains your Satoru, voice in your ear and you shiver at the tickling and warm sensation.
“Then that’s too bad, because I’m literally you. What about it, sweetheart? Wanna give a kiss to your husband?” says the other, bringing his face so close to yours, you feel his minty breath caressing your skin. The moment his lips brush against yours to tempt the waters, you remember how the two of you almost kissed some days ago, and that’s when you give in. You tilt your head and let your mouth fall on his.
You notice how he shivers at the contact, immediately aching for more. But the kiss is short, an eager Satoru pushing him away and instead claiming your lips. You moan of surprise, but close your eyes, recognizing the blindfolded one. Your Satoru gets impatient, hands roaming over your body and teeth grazing on your neck.
Then, when you part to take a deep breath, he grabs your chin and makes you look up. That’s when he claims your mouth as well. The makeout starts to warm your lower stomach, hands and two other mouths discovering all over again your body. Shoulders, neck, collarbones, cheeks. The three of them are eager for more, greedily taking what they can. And the worst is that two of them already know perfectly how to make you melt. Where to touch, to caress, to press.
“Want to go to the next step, sweetheart?” asks your future husband, hand sliding under your shirt in anticipation.
“Look at her, she can’t help herself but wants to try the three of us,” muses the blindfold Satoru, biting your ear tenderly while his hand digs in your thighs.
“I think we should let the younger one take the lead since he never did it before,” ends up saying the other, his hand leaving your shirt.
“I agree, you two can fuck off, let us do our thing,” mutters your Satoru against your mouth, swallowing your moans.
“Because you think we’re only going to watch and do nothing?” scoffs scars Gojo.
“I think our sweet baby here wants the three of us, am I right?” taunts the other, sliding his hand closely to your heat before retracting his fingers. You shiver, aching for your most private part to be relieved.
“That’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, so… yeah,” you end up admitting and agreeing.
Your words are all it takes to be laid down, your Satoru on top of you kissing your lips, gently caressing your body, being the first one to actually touch your breast through your shirt. His knee presses against your crotch. A moan escapes your lips, and he gently takes off your shirt, revealing your bare chest for the first time.
“Beautiful, right?” licks his lips blindfold Satoru. “A living dream,” he answers, latching his mouth on your right nipple for the first time, and he relishes in the sensation of finally having his tongue rolling around it. The other takes the opportunity to lick the left one, while scars Gojo tastes your lips. Drinking each of your whines of pleasure.
The knee that was pressed against your crotch lets a hand slide down your shorts, then cup your pussy through your panties. You jolt with surprise.
“So wet,” he breathes out, a finger hooked around the edge of the tissue to glide over your folds.
“Of course she is,” muses the one against your mouth.
At first, the digit rubs against your clit, exploring your anatomy, bringing waves of pleasure. You can barely move too much, every part of your body ignited. Mouth, tits, then now your clit. His thumb continues to draw lazy circles until his longest finger gently enters your hole, curling, searching for your sweet spot against your gummy walls.
When he finds it, it’s the first for you and for this version of him too. It feels strangely dangerously good, and you arch your back.
“Don’t go and cum now, baby,” mocks the Satoru that still is busy with your nipple. But you don’t answer, focused on the pleasure that is brought to you. You barely realize the coldness hitting your folds when your panties are thrown away, then the warmth of a mouth makes you shiver. The moment you look down, stopping the kiss, you meet your Satoru’s eyes when his tongue slides on your slit until it reaches your clit. Gaze intensely glued to yours. You let out a choked moan that gets swallowed again by a pair of lips, this time from blindfold Satoru while scars Gojo busy himself with your chest, marking your skin with tender bites.
Satoru’s mouth is eating you out as if you were the sweetest dessert his tongue ever laid upon, and that might be right. He never savored something like this before, becoming addicted, and now he understands why the older versions of him were turning insane that they couldn’t have a taste of you these past days.
He pumps his fingers in your hole at the same time, and it’s enough to drag a long orgasm out of your body. Satoru continues to ride your climax with his tongue until it dies down, licking the remains on your thighs.
“First cumming of the night. At least two for each one of us, that should be fair, right?” asks the Satoru that is kissing you.
“6 orgasms?!” you exclaim in a weak voice.
“You totally can handle it, I assure you,” says the older Gojo.
You look at the three of them surrounding you, and you swallow hard, realizing the exciting hours that are awaiting.
It’s like this that some minutes later you’re getting penetrated for the first time by your Satoru, while he has to physically restrain himself on the spot. The two others look eagerly, remembering the delicious feeling of their first time with you.
“Holy shit,” you groan, gripping the sheets, and scars Gojo ease your mind and the discomfort by toying with your clit, while the other pampers kisses on your shoulders and neck.
“Fuck, so tight… I’m going to cum if you squeeze me like this,” he breathes out in a deep moan, fingers gripping your hips harder.
“Younger me, you’re making me jealous. Better do it quick so I can take your place,” says the oldest Satoru, licking his thumb to taste you and add some lub to go circle again your clit.
“Think she’ll be able to take two of us at the same time?” asks the other one, chuckling in your ear. You open your eyes wide.
“Let me already take one!” you exclaim but get cut short when Satoru bottoms up his cock inside your cunt, and you arch twice your back. A mix of pleasure takes over the discomfort of having something inside of you.
“I’ll like to see that,” he admits before changing his pacing and angles his hips to hit your sweet spot at each thrust.
Barely some minutes later, you’re on all fours. Ass slammed by the deep plunges. Nasty sound resonating with your and his moans. At the same time, Satoru puts back his blindfold on his forehead before starting to zip down his pants. But you try to stop him and do it instead, fingers grazing against his sticky hardness that aches to be taken care of.
“You’ll have your dick sucked later, younger me. Can’t wait any more,” he grunts in a nervous way, licking his lips when you let his shaft fall on your lower lip, tasting his precum for the first time.
“Not fair-” whines the concerned, harding his thrusts on purpose to destabilize you. You barely can open your mouth and try to take the length on your tongue, mind blurred by the intense pleasure.
“Look out, baby,” he murmurs, instead opening your jaw wider so he can himself move his cock against the walls of your mouth, grazing your throat. He’s doing you a favor after all, you can’t do it yourself in the state you’re in.
“I’m feeling left out,” says scars Gojo. “Sweetheart, think you can handle two cocks? Or will it be too much for you?” he approaches, capturing your eyes as he takes off his shirt, revealing his torso buffer than the two others. The marks scattering his skin are hypnotizing, and when you want to answer, your eyes roll down your skull as your legs shake at the pleasure.
“Her mouth is full right now,” snickers the other Satoru, keeping your jaw open. His thumb wipes the saliva, continuing to grind his shaft against your tongue.
“Then take your dick away,” he groans in return, and sadly for him, he as to do so with much reluctance. Scars Gojo’s hand instead cup your cheeks, making you look at him.
“So, my love? Can you?” he asks slowly, grin tucked at the corner of his lips.
“Dunno, I'll be too full,” you babble, shoulder blades moving as the Satoru behind you is still relentless, slamming at the same pace as earlier.
“Wanna try?” he continues to ask.
“M’kay,” you nod, eyes wet with pleasure.
“Greedy girl,” he muses.
It’s like this that you end up straddling scars Gojo, sinking on his dick. Your Satoru behind rubs his tip at the busy entrance after rolling a condom around his dick, spitting on his length to add more lub. Your nails dig in the already wounded chest under you when he starts to enter too, stretching you out. For comfort, the left out Satoru kisses your lips and caresses your chest, your waist, and steads you.
At first it feels too much, too full, uncomfortable. It’s with minutes that you adjust to the sensation, they finally can move. Two dicks, twice the pleasure. Your legs are a trembling mess, having to let them do all the work. Unable to move much. They grunt, moan in your ears. Their bodies sandwiching you, one mouth on your spine, the other on your throat, then swallowing your tits.
“It’ll be my turn after, yeah?” wines the other that is on the side, so you let your hand busy itself on his cock, masturbating him up and down.
“Baby, you’re overdoing yourself,” he breathes out, yet not refusing the helping hand.
“She’ll be greatly reworded,” drawls a voice, but you don’t even know which one of them is, losing yourself in the pleasure. And that, you were.
Minutes, hours even, maybe days pass where you’re getting laid by the three of them at the same time. Taking turns, emptying all the possible condoms you could have in your possession. Mouths on your clit, your hole, your nipples, mouth, throat, spine, shoulders, thighs… everywhere. Teeth teasing your skin, fingers digging on your flesh, cocks slamming inside in different paces. Sometimes hard, quick, then sweet, loving, passionate. You don’t even know where you start and where they end. How many orgasms you had, how many times they cum. Who is who. Which Satoru is taking you on the side, which is using your mouth, which is eating you out.
You might think that must be all but a wild wet dream at how confusing but consuming it becomes.
It’s only when dawn arrives, that their insatiable thirsts of more take a pause, realizing you need some intense rest, and a shower, with lots of aftercare.
You’re half awake, knocked by the pleasure, when one of them takes you in his arms and brings you to the bathroom. Apparently, when you were having your last orgasm, one went to run a warm bath for you. Did they talk together about ending this for the night? Who’ll take care of you? Who’ll be the last one to make you cum? You can’t even remember, or maybe you never realised.
You’re pampered, two of them entering the bath while the other showers as fast as he can to go prepare a big glass of water and some breakfast. Hands tenderly washing your skin, the sweat, the cyprine on your thighs. Knuckles digging in your sore muscles. Kisses on your forehead.
“You deserve your much needed rest, baby,” murmurs a voice in your ear.
“Did so good. I knew you could handle it,” adds another one.
“I’m dead,” you mutter. They chuckle.
You barely remember what happens after. Eating, yes. More like being fed. Also forcing you to pee, to not have some sort of infection. Making you drink. Then laying you down. A mess of limbs wrap around you, and the four of you lay in your bed in a ridiculous way. Two on each side, the third on top of you. But in all honesty, you have no strength left to complain about one of them going on the couch. Your eyelids flutter shut, with the warmth of their skins and their soft caresses lull you back to sleep.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 10 am.
“You really should go back to sleep, baby,” chuckles Satoru, finishing to tie his blindfold around his eyes. Meanwhile, a pair of arms are keeping you against a warm chest, not letting you go even when you intend to stand up.
“Stay down. I’m sure you won’t even be able to stand straight on your legs,” adds scars Gojo in your ear.
“Yes I can,” you protest.
“We’re watching,” he raises an eyebrow. So to prove him wrong, you slide off the bedframe and press on your feet to straighten yourself. Your knees give up and your ass falls back on the mattress.
“Ok, I can’t,” you end up admitting, and they laugh at the same time in the same way, which is actually what is funnier than your stubbornness.
“That’s what I thought,” says Satoru after arranging the black tissue covering his burning gaze on your marked skin.
“No, but seriously. Even if I’m exhausted, I at least want to say goodbye, just in case today is the day. And the Satoru of this timeline already left to work. I can hug you without him fussing around,” you end up saying more seriously.
“Well, we literally had sex last night so I don’t think he’ll continue to whine over a hug,” he chuckles mockingly, buttoning up his pants.
“Like you two don’t have habits that die hard,” you protest, rolling your eyes.
“Guilty as charged. Just a bit more mature, I guess,” confirms the Satoru behind you, still sitting on the bed.
“Whatever, let me say goodbye. Just in case,” you insist, shaking your head with imploring eyes.
“Then stay there, I’ll come to you,” he smiles. He finishes putting on his pants, before crawling towards you. He brings you in a hug, kissing your forehead, then your lips. The first goodbye this Satoru gives you with a kiss. “Here, goodbye y/n. Let’s hope this time it’s the good one to guarantee your safety, yeah?”
“Won’t let Sukuna kill me that easily, I guarantee. My fate will be changed,” you agree.
“Gojo Satoru will also make sure of that,” he confirms. “Bye,” you end up waving, looking at him leaving after one last glance.
The rest of the morning and the early evening is spent cuddling the remaining Satoru. Fingers gliding on his scars, one by one, intimacy brewing in the air. Then, you take his hand, and gently touch the wedding ring with awe. It’s still hard for you to realize that one day you’ll marry him. How did he feel when you died in your arms? Were you in intense pain? Were there any regrets? Did the two of you have any plans for the future? A family, maybe? A pet? A house? Traveling? Your career, hobbies? And what about the honeymoon?
It got all crushed down by the king of the curses. And you know that Satoru’s grief was so intense, his cursed energy made him travel back in time for your sake.
“How was the honeymoon?” you end softly asking, letting the sun rays caress your limbs, your face. His hand touches your hair, admiring the shape, the length. Surely your haircut is different in his future, and he’s reminiscing about old times.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to reveal anything about our future?” he answers in a tiny smile.
“True, but since things will irrevocably change for me now, I’m almost sure what will happen will be different than what you experienced,” you reply, laying your head on his bicep. His eyes stay on yours. A short silence follows. His smile saddens.
“We… didn’t have a honeymoon. We were supposed to, after fighting Sukuna. We planned everything. The place, the activities, how much time we’ll stay there. The marriage was already rushed with the war conditions. So we obviously had to report the honeymoon for later,” he admits, and you freeze at the realization that he and you never had the chance to be happily married together. That irrevocably shatters your heart. You’re sure the breaking of his has wounds deeper than his physical scars.
“Oh… I’m sorry,” you murmur in sadness, a wave of weird feelings taking a tool on you.
“Don’t be sorry for something completely out of your control, sweetheart,” he whispers back. You want to cry. You flutter your eyelids to bite back the tears.
“I really hope that when you’ll come back to your own timeline, it would have changed the past, saved me from dying, and that you’ll have this honeymoon with me,” you confess, voice cracking at the end. He takes a deep breath.
“I hope too. But, if it doesn’t, I’ll still be relieved that the you of this timeline and the other me will have a bright future, protected from this death. At least, here, you’ll be safe,” he answers in the most reassuring voice he can have.
“Satoru…” you whimper at how unfair it sounds. He’s the one that begged for his reality to change, his future to have you in it. He’s the one that provoked the time travel. And he’s maybe the only one of the three that will never have you back in his arms ever again. The only one that will have this plan not succeed for his own timeline.
Seeing your distress, your understanding, he brings you against his chest. Giving you the hug he wishes he could give to the you that died, his wife. It’s gut wrenching. Your skin melts against his, inhaling his scent.
“Shh, don’t. I’ll be alright. Always am,” he says in the crook of your ear. But you notice how he’s holding back tears. Gojo Satoru about to cry. Maybe he does. But his sobs are silent. He tightens his grip, merging your bodies together, becoming one entity, one soul, one love. His cursed energy envelopes you in a protective way, giving you a bubble of protection.
“I trust you,” you say. His lips find yours, in a kiss so tender you falter at the sweetness and devotion of it. He kisses you like the love of his life, like his wife, like his one and only.
“I love you,” he whispers, hugging you back. You dig your face in his chest, finding solace in his embrace. Then, with courage, you decide to confess these three words you still never said out loud to your own Satoru.
“I love you.” You let the silence wash over you for some seconds.
You open back your eyes. Feeling suddenly cold. Your body is laying on the mattress, not his torso.
“Satoru?” you ask in a trembling voice, confused. Your head snaps to the side, then up, down, left and right. Everywhere. “Satoru?!”
You stand back up. Nothing. No trace of him. He’s gone. Which means it’s the same for the other him. The plan succeeded. You no longer will die by the hands of Sukuna in this timeline.
You lay back down on the bed, breath short, staring at the ceiling. Lost in a storm of thoughts.
The sheets linger with the warmth and the scent of his skin. A proof he was there, some seconds ago. You wonder if he heard you confessing your love back. Or maybe he disappeared right before. You’ll never know. You’ll never know either if he’ll find you back alive, or if he’ll once again be met by the coldness of your death.
A mystery that is maybe better buried alive.
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ
Sunday, 6 pm.
“That's all that matters now. Your safety is my top priority,” Satoru says, standing on the rooftop of your building, watching the sunset with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Voice uncharacteristically serious.
“I know.”
“I’m relieved to know that whatever future I’ll build with you won’t end cruelly," he admits, sighing, tightening his grip on your body. Your head falls on his shoulders, staring at the horizon. His head falls on top of yours.
“We’ll stay side by side, I promise,” you say. Minutes pass in silence.
“Y/n, I love you.” Simple words that you already know the meaning of, but the first time you hear them from his mouth. The him from here. You turn your head, then look at the man that you love in the eyes.
“I love you, Satoru.” A kiss that seals it.
This time, you know he heard it. You’ll make sure he’ll always hear it.
The way I struggled so bad to describe the three of them at the same time without getting the reader lost on who is who… Anyways. If you liked please repost and comment!
roses wither, but in the heart of a lover—they'll live forever
...guys, sylus lives in my head rent-free atp. I can't escape this omg
w.c : 1.5k
The movie hums quietly in the background — a low murmur of dialogue and light that washes the room in half-gold, half-blue. You don’t remember how it started. Just that you were here, sitting beside him, and now he’s asleep on you.
Sylus.
All heavy muscle and quiet heat, pressed against you possessively. His weight blankets you, a slow-breathing furnace in the dim light of the TV. You can feel each rise and fall of his chest against yours, the subtle flex of his body as he adjusts, the faint rasp of his breath brushing the shell of your throat. His scent lingers—cedar, smoke, and that faint metallic tang of his workshop—seeping into your lungs until you’re dizzy with it.
You don’t know what to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten how to breathe. You hold yourself perfectly still, afraid that if you breathe too deeply you’ll wake him, and the spell will break.
His arm is slung loosely around your waist, his fingers resting just above your hipbone, warm and careless. Your pulse stutters beneath them. The world has gone quiet except for the soft hum of the screen and the uneven rhythm of his breathing, slow and heavy with sleep.
He murmurs something you can’t catch, a sound that vibrates low in his chest. It thrums through you.
“Didn’t think you’d make it through the whole film,” you whisper.
A pause. Then, without opening his eyes, he answers, voice rough with sleep, “Didn’t think you’d let me fall asleep on you.”
It’s teasing, but his tone is soft, unguarded. The kind of voice that makes the air turn warm around the edges.
You mean to laugh, but it comes out as a shaky breath. “You’re heavy.”
“Liar,” he mumbles, a faint smile curving against your skin. “You’d tell me to move if I was.”
You don’t. You can’t.
His hand shifts, fingers brushing against your arm as if by accident. You feel every heartbeat of it. He sighs — that lazy, content sound that belongs to someone who has forgotten the world exists — and it’s all you can do not to close your eyes and sink with him.
For a long time neither of you speak. The room is thick with quiet and the flicker of the screen. Outside, rain begins to tap against the window. Inside, his breathing deepens, steady, rhythmic, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against yours.
You wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.
“Hey,” you whisper.
“Mmm?”
“You’re gonna crush me.”
He cracks one eye open, ruby bright even in the dim light. A lazy grin spreads across his face — the kind that carries a whole world of arrogance and charm. “Are you complaining, sweetheart?”
You shake your head. “Just stating facts.”
“Facts can be subjective,” he says, voice dipping lower, almost a purr. “This feels pretty objective to me.”
He shifts just enough that his face tilts upward, and now you can see him properly — the faint shadow of stubble, the tousled hair falling into his eyes, the look of a man halfway between sleep and mischief.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs.
You blink. “You have a bad habit of assuming things.”
“And you,” he counters, “have a bad habit of pretending you don’t want me to be right.”
It’s said lightly, a half-smile to soften the edge, but it lands like a spark in your chest. He doesn’t move closer, not yet, but the distance between you shrinks all the same. Every breath feels shared now. The movie is still playing, but you can’t hear it anymore.
“Do you ever stop talking?” you manage, your voice softer than you meant.
He hums—a sound halfway between laughter and thought. “You’d miss it if I did.”
“Would I?”
He lifts his head, just slightly. His eyes catch yours — red catching light, dark lashes half-closed. “You would.”
Something in the way he says it makes your stomach turn over, a slow tumble of heat and ache. He looks at you like he’s tracing the shape of a secret.
“Say something,” he whispers.
You don’t.
You can’t.
Instead, your hand—traitorous little thing—shifts by an inch, your fingers barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve. It’s enough. The smallest contact, and yet it burns.
He notices. Of course he does. His gaze flicks to where your fingers touched, then back to your face. “You do that again,” he says, voice low, “and I might forget I’m supposed to be asleep.”
Your breath catches. “And if I don’t?”
"Careful, sweetheart." He huffs. His smile is slow and dangerous but just as fond. It does an incredible job of turning your brain to mush. "You should know by now, I'm not so easily sated."
He’s so close now that you can feel the warmth of his words against your lips. Every nerve in your body waits. You think if he moves one inch closer, you might shatter.
His hand lifts—hesitates—then traces the air just beside your cheek, not touching, but near enough that it feels like a touch anyway. His eyes are soft now, not teasing, not smug, just there. Present. Honest.
“You always look like you’re about to run,” he says quietly.
“Perhaps I should.”
“Perhaps,” he admits.
There’s no room left to breathe. You close your eyes because you can’t bear to see the way he’s looking at you. For a heartbeat, everything stops — the rain, the movie, the whole world narrowing to the distance between you.
And then—
You blink.
The weight is gone.
The warmth, the heartbeat pressed to yours, the low rasp of his voice — gone. The couch stretches empty beside you, the cushion untouched.
Sylus lies on the far end of it, head resting against the armrest, one arm folded over his chest. The flicker of the TV paints him in pale light, turns his hair silver at the edges. His lips are parted slightly, his breathing slow and even.
He’s asleep.
You stare, the echo of his voice still pulsing in your ears. Your hands are trembling. For a moment, you can still feel the ghost of him — the weight, the warmth, the nearness — like fingerprints on your skin that aren’t really there.
The movie keeps playing. You don’t remember what it’s about.
You sit there, waiting for something to happen, waiting for him to shift, to look up, to say something — anything. But he doesn’t move. He just sleeps, a little furrow between his brows, as if even his dreams are far away from you.
You realize then that none of it happened. The teasing, the words, the warmth pressed close — it was all in your head.
You were watching him sleep again, and your mind filled the silence. You made a story out of it, like you always do.
You press a hand to your chest. It feels hollow there.
You try to remember when it started — this ache, this slow-building obsession that crept in like smoke. You told yourself it was harmless, that everyone imagines things sometimes. That it didn’t mean anything.
But somewhere along the line, you stopped being able to tell the difference.
He shifts slightly, an unconscious motion, and your heart leaps before you can stop it. You study his face — the calm lines, the faint scruff of his jaw, the way his lashes cast tiny shadows against his skin. You tell yourself you’re only looking. You tell yourself you could stop if you wanted to.
You can’t.
He’s so close, and yet it feels like looking at someone through glass. You could reach out — brush your fingers along his sleeve, just once — but the thought terrifies you. Instead, your hand twitches against the cushion, aching to bridge the space between you.
The room feels colder now. The rain outside sounds louder. You let your gaze drift to the flickering light on the wall, then back to him.
You whisper his name once, softly. Just to see how it sounds in the quiet.
He doesn’t stir.
Sometimes you think he must feel it—the way your gaze clings to him, the way your breath falters when he passes too close. Sometimes you think he must know.
And still, he never looks at you that way.
The movie ends. The screen fades to black. And in the darkness that follows, you sit beside the man you’ve built a thousand daydreams around, listening to him breathe, letting the ache of it settle deep into your bones.
You tell yourself you’ll stop. That next time, you won’t let your mind wander, won’t imagine the warmth of his voice or the weight of him pressed close.
But even now, you know you’re lying.
Because when the lights from the TV flicker back to life, you can almost feel it again—the ghost of a heartbeat against yours, the trace of his voice saying your name, the warmth that never really was.
And it hurts. God, it hurts—like waking from a dream you’d give anything—everything—to fall back into.
🥌 "𝑺𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑼 𝑮𝑶𝑱𝑶," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ sfw halloween costumes cutie pie toru ꗃ .. fluff crack ꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ mina says I’m peeling my skin off if I flop on my exams ⁀ ˳ ⟡
“what sound does a ghost make?”
You were whispering to yourself on the afternoon of Halloween. Satoru, your husband, was supposedly outside working on the decorations. You knew he was just scoping out the dads in the neighbourhood and silently sizing them up, trying to see if he could be a ‘dilf’.
The large white sheet your held in your hands had no holes cut in for eyes, instead, two black circles for where the eyes were supposed to be. You nodded proudly and whipped it over your head, struggling a little to place the dots in the right place, and struggle with your now translucent eyesight.
“Tch… my pumpkins look the best in the neighbourhood, obviously,” Satoru shook his head with feigned humility, a smirk playing at his lips when he brushed a hand through his white silky locks. He felt someone bump against his back, a genuine smile spread across his lips when he quickly turned around to greet you.
“Baby! Did you see—… huh?” Satoru furrowed his eyebrows to see you struggling under the white bedsheet, the two black dots on the side of your head.
“Did you… did you try to scare me?” Your husband teased playfully, smiling again now and poking your forehead, his finger brushing against the smooth white bedsheet. You stumbled back a little and grumbled, heat rising to your cheeks and ears when your plan to scare him had gone wrong.
“You were supposed to be scared, ‘toru” you mumbled to him, all pouty. Trying to get out from the bedsheet was a hassle, you really should’ve just cut eyeholes.
Gojo chuckled before lifting up the hem of the sheet and slipping inside with you. His hair brushing against your forehead, his breath mingling with yours. His cheeky smile only cause your pout to grow, the tips of your ears burning with embarrassment.
“Get out if you’re just gonna make fun—” you were grumbling to him, before being cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours. A stolen kiss underneath the bedsheets that you had tried to scare him with.
satoru and suguru look down at the two sleeping newborns in their cribs. both babies coo and wiggle softly with fat, rosy, drool-stained cheeks and tiny, balled-up fists.
suguru turns towards you, about to make a comment on how cute they look, only to see the skeptical look in your eyes.
“what’s wrong?”, he asks. satoru looks over too.
you pause before saying: “i can’t believe these are also my kids.”
satoru grins and says quietly, “yeah. seems unreal, doesn’t it?”
“yes.” you narrow your eyes. “they don’t even look like me.”
both men glance at eachother before giving you equally confused looks. “–?”
“my genes didn’t fight at all!”, you whisper-shout and give them an accusatory glade. “i thought one would have my nose or eyes or something. i carry them for 9 months and go through hours and hours of labor just for them to come out looking exactly like you two?”
“why are you saying that like it’s an insult?” satoru juts out a lip and pouts at you. “i thought you said you wanted them to look like us?”
“i said i wanted them to favor you, not come out as carbon copies.”
suguru chuckles at you and satoru’s whispered bickering, shaking his head and pulling you both in closer by the waist. he gives you a quick peck on the lips to quiet your complaints.
“we could always try again in a year.”, suguru suggests jokingly. “maybe this one will have your attitude.”
satoru slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his got of giggles. you give suguru a light slap to the chest, attempting to pull away only for him to hug you closer.
jokes on them—they fall in love with your next and final baby: a little bundle of joy that is your spitting image.
Imagine the fight had started small, like they always did. A careless remark, a disagreement about time, about priorities. With Caleb, it never stayed small. His words sharpened when he felt cornered, his voice steady and precise, as if conviction could erase doubt.
Imagine you matched him at first, matching tone for tone, wall for wall. You had learned to argue with him like you were sparring. Measured, strategic. But tonight, it all felt heavier, like every word carried a shadow you couldn't shake.
Imagine, somewhere in the middle of his rambling, your throat closed. Your chest tightened. The room blurred at the edges, not because of tears, but because you couldn't keep pushing. You went still. Silent.
Imagine, on the inside, you were screaming at yourself. Don't do this. Don't make it about you. Don’t be that person. You knew what you signed up for. You knew MC would always matter. You told yourself it wouldn't hurt, that you could handle it. That you wouldn't let it get to you. That you wouldn't be insecure. But God, it did hurt.
and Imagine no matter how many times you tried to swallow it down, it kept rising back up, bitter and thick in your chest. You couldn't hold it anymore. "Are you done?" You asked softly. The stillness of your voice startled even you. Caleb stopped mid-sentence, his head jerking slightly like he hadnt expected you to speak. His lips parted, but nothing came.
Imagine you forced yourself to go on, even though every word scraped like glass. "I'm not jealous of MC, Caleb." Your tone was calm, but inside, you were shaking. Say it. Just say it once. If you don't, you'll choke on it forever. "I knew she was here before me. I knew she was your sister, the one you grew up with. Not by blood, but close enough. I knew she was your priority back then, and I understood that much."
Imagine the way he stilled, some of the fire in his eyes dimming, but you didn't let yourself stop. "But then you chose this. You chose to be with me. And while she was your priority before, there's me now. There's us now. And if you can't… If you can't put me anywhere near the same level, if you can’t even try to make me a priority alongside her. Then what are we even doing?"
Imagine the way your chest burned, voice tight with the effort to keep it steady. Don't cry. Don't cry. Not now. Not in front of him. "Because I can't keep giving my all when I keep ending up in second place." And then the tears betrayed you anyway. Hot, unwanted, spilling before you could stop them.
Imagine Caleb froze, staring like the sight of them undid every word he had been holding onto. His lips parted, the edges softening, but he didn't speak. You swiped at your cheeks quickly, almost angrily, as if you could erase the evidence. "Do you even remember what today is?" His silence was answer enough.
"It's our anniversary. The one day I ever asked for. The only day I asked you to set aside whatever MC needed, just this once. The only day I asked for you. All of you."
Imagine the weight of your words seemed to hit him all at once. His chest rose sharply, like he was about to step forward, to fix it, to say anything that might keep you from slipping away. But you raised a hand, palm out. Not harsh. Just tired. A fragile barricade between you.
"Don't. Not right now." You lowered your gaze, voice smaller now, edged with exhaustion. "Maybe we should take a break. Just… Step back. I'm tired, Caleb. And I think we both need to calm down before we burn this whole thing to the ground."
Imagine his body went tense, every line of him screaming resistance. He wanted to move, to close the distance, to hold onto you. But you were already reaching into your bag. Already pulling out the small packet of medicine. You pressed it into his hand, cool against his warm skin. "Tell MC to get well."
and Imagine you left, the sound of your footsteps echoing too loud in the quiet you left behind. Caleb stood frozen, medicine clutched tight in his palm, as if it were the only piece of you left in the room.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°
: who hurt me? Kayden Break as he went and rescue Guestella :") I'm about to unleash the angsty fic I'm keeping.
➷ the pledges find vp frat!kuna’s stash of X rated polaroids of you [fwb]
[18+] mdni. nsfw. fwb. pledge hazing. f!reader. piv. raw. angst. sex photos. heavy spanking. spitting. creampie. cumdump. obsession with his happy trail ㅤꨄ︎
the pledges have never been smart. of course, how could they be in this particular fraternity, when their president was none other than satoru gojo.
and just like any other fraternity, these pledges are at the president’s, and seniors, beck and call. however, they had to be much more careful, because the fraternity this frat houses the most chaotic boys on campus: one was their infamous president, the second was their second in command, suguru geto, and the worst, was their brutal vice president, ryomen sukuna.
all this to say. you cannot blame the pledges for following a very thorough treasure hunt gojo and geto and few others put together for them.
nor could they be blamed for the consequences that eventually led to them standing out in the cold in only boxers, and a very angry vice president pacing back and forth with a bat, ready to swing.
“cmon man, how the fuck were we supposed to know you changed the location this year?” gojo laughs a few feet away, mouth full of lies, and bundled up in his warm hoodie and jacket. geto smug as shit right beside him.
sukuna feels his veins strain. grip tightening around the handle.
“y-yeah man, we didn’t know—“
“you shut the fuck up!” sukuna snaps, bat swinging immediately and stopping just inches from colliding with the pledges’ temple. “did i fucking tell you to speak?”
the pledge shakes his head frantically, tears brimming, and body trembling from fear and cold.
sukuna glances at the six other pledges lined up, their eyes falling to their bare feet.
“what did i fucking say about my room?” sukuna seethes, voice deep with real threat, his grip adjusting on the handle, pointing at every pledge. “answer me, idiots!”
“off limits, sir!” they shout in union.
“then why the fuck did you guys go in!” sukuna is completely feral, scary red eyes ablaze, chest heaving, and how could he not be?
these six idiots looking for the infamous fraternity’s ‘key of truth’, decided to follow gojo and geto’s shit treasure map, and ended up in their vice president’s room.
of course, sukuna couldn’t know that the six of them were basically shitting their pants, playing rock paper scissors to see who goes in. or that three of them were on the verge of tears when they got chosen and started convincing the others maybe this isn’t where president gojo said to go.
but it felt like a homerun when they finally found the small box full of band stickers under his bed. just like gojo had told them. so instead of being smart and checking to see if the key was inside, they instead ran down the stairs and waited until the next day when they had all the items and presented it to gojo and geto, all standing in a line like they’re in the army, and watched as gojo checked off each item off the treasure list.
until he arrived at the box.
familiar with the box, but curious as one should always be when they go into their frat brothers room and always see this box on his bed. one could only lie and tell the pledges the key was in here.
gojo and geto were huddled together as they opened the box. because what could it be?? maybe the key was really in here, along with some smokes coach toji had given him, or a few pills to take the edge off, or a few hardcore magazines—as if they’re in the 90s and don’t have twitter for that—but still the two boys felt their entire bodies buzz with excitement once the lid fell open.
“oh.”
geto’s smug voice had the pledges leaning forward, especially when gojo pulled out an old camera, and a stack of polaroids.
they could recognize you anywhere. especially with that little smile of yours as you laid on sukuna’s bed, arm lazily draped on your breasts concealing yourself well, and the soft glow of your skin from the glistening sweat of your naked body.
another photo was of you on top, straddling their vp’s lap and his rough hand enveloping one of your breasts, fingers digging into the flesh and your lashes closed in bliss.
then another of you, sucking his middle finger while also flipping the camera off.
then another of you suckling on the tip of sukuna’s thick pulsing cock. pretty doey eyes staring up at the camera. as manicured nails struggled to fully wrap around the entire base, his groomed pubes in sight.
then another of you walking towards his bathroom, completely naked, fresh bruises on your pretty ass, and bite marks on your shoulders.
then another of you sleeping on your stomach, and his hand grabbing your ass, showcasing the bruised hand marks that decorate each cheek.
then another and another, and it just kept going. it was fucking insane. their was a variety, of course geto felt more guilty seeing the ones of you completely naked, while gojo was in hysterics tossing each one back into the box when he was done gawking and laughing.
“this fucking idiot has a treasure chest of her hiding under his bed!” gojo’s laugh rang through the living room, and every pledge felt another knife being pushed into their backs when they fully gawked at the photos too. they’re so fucked. but they couldn’t look away, some even smiling as they caught glimpses of the infamous girl that slept with their vp.
and gojo couldn’t ignore the fact that there were a couple of photos of sukuna from who he’s assuming is your point of view. or that there were also some blurry ones of you just laughing, or talking beside his bed. of course, all the photos were taken in this room which meant it was just some stupid little kink you guys had, but still, the amount of polaroids here just made it obvious that the man—
“what the fucks going on here?”
the pledges stiffen, including geto and gojo in momentary surprise. fingers halting around the photos, sensing the looming man’s presence behind them.
“just the annual treasure hunt, y’know—shit man—!” gojo laughs as he turns, but his collar immediately gets snatched in the man grip.
“you better be joking right now,” sukuna seethes in his face. gojo tilts his head away, used to being handled so aggressively by the former that this reaction doesn’t surprise him at all. and just like all the times he’s been yelled at before, it was just easier to put the blame on someone else—
“the pledges decided to go in your room since I told em you kept the frat key on you.”
the second those words slip out of the president’s mouth, every single pledge has tears welling up in their eyes. and geto makes no effort to correct him either. intrigued on how sukuna will find another way to torture these poor freshmen on the basis that they saw the scandalous photos he’s been taking of his so called “sex buddy” that just so happens to look more and more intimate and romantic the deeper they looked.
“ya did it on purpose,” sukuna’s grip tightens, practically choking the white haired idiot. “you always fucking snoop around my room—“
“nuh uh!” gojo shrieks. “i should make suguru vice president since he’s the only one that’s ever fucking here for any of this shitty pledge games! and he never accuses me of being a liar!”
sukuna doesn’t miss the way geto’s brow hits the ceiling— they all know that’s a fucking a lie. hell geto was the one that passed up the vp role and dropped it onto sukuna’s lap, since he convinced gojo it was a guard dog role.
however, sukuna’s gaze snaps back down to the open box, a few of the polaroids dropped on the table when he grabbed gojo.
shit, this looked bad didn’t it? his chest twists in anger, hot blood pumping faster as he catches a few pledges still gawking at the them as they keep their heads down. which ones were they looking at? was it the one of you sucking his cock, or the one of you holding you pinching your own nipples, or was it the one he captured of his cum smeared all over your bruised ass—
“strip!”
the loud command had gojo flinching, covering his ear, and the pledges didn’t hesitate to start ripping their warm autumn clothes off.
“keep y’r fucking panties on, I don’t wanna see your dicks!” sukuna shouts when one pledge slid them off with his pants. “outside now!”
they all scramble, tripping and shoving each other to get out the door.
sukuna shoves gojo back, rounding the couch and collecting the polaroids. his eyes catching the few non-sex ones he’d taken, ignoring the way his cheeks felt a little hot knowing these dipshits saw them—
“i don’t know why you’re being a sour pus about it, it’s not like you haven’t taken polaroids of other girls before,” gojo starts, sitting back on the couch arms crossed. geto hums.
sukuna’s sharp eyes snap to them, “y’know that’s different.”
“how? because this girl is a better fuck than the rest?” geto’s words were brutal. sukuna’s hand twitches around the photos. tongue poking his cheek in controlled anger.
“exactly.”
gojo laughs, loud and obnoxious. “we’re just fucking around, we weren’t ogling them, we were just curious—“
“i fucking told you guys I’m not showing you photos of her! if y’ want some jerk off material, take y’r own damn photos,” sukuna slams the box shut.
“but you always take the best ones because of the camera,” gojo whines, only for geto to pull a photo out of thin air.
sukuna stiffens.
your pretty lips are parted, expression soft and sweet, laying like an actual pillow princess on his bed. the soft morning light hitting your skin perfectly he can practically feel the softness of it from just the photo. and that’s all it was. a perfectly captured polaroid of you sleeping peacefully on his bed in the asscrack of dawn.
“what?” he reaches for the photo, hesitate to grab it to aggressively or he’d bend it. but he snatches it nonetheless.
geto shrugs, “she looks cute here,” he doesn’t miss the way the pink haired man practically seethes. “you’re pretty fucking defensive—“
“fuck off,” sukuna rolls his eyes, scoffing dramatically. “I’m not some asshole that’ll show y’ a girl who’s naked and only let me take those photos because i told her I wouldn’t show anyone.”
“you did that with everyone else though,” geto points.
sukuna laughs, humorously, “well I didn’t have a fucking deal with the rest, that’s it. I can respect a woman’s fucking privacy.”
“only when it benefits you,” geto was so quick with the rebuttals, he doesn’t miss the way sukuna’s veins start to strain on his neck.
“yeah,” sukuna licks his teeth.
and that’s how he’s taking his anger out. even though he knows exactly what gojo and geto were trying to do. he couldn’t bare looking past the obvious reasons why it made him angry when anyone saw those photos.
you asked him not too. it was easy as that.
sure, his camera was infamous in the frat. something his grandfather had given him and he decided to make a stupid tradition of taking polaroids of girls with his cum splattered on them. the girls with huge tits, or a nice ass, or a pretty face, and the boys would love it, and some even started showing normal photos on their phones, but it was nothing compared to the artistry of this old polaroid camera.
they never claimed to be good people. it was such a dickish thing to do, but it’s not like anyone was stopping them—aside from nanami, who fucking snaps at them whenever he happens to be around when they talk about it— but still, it wasn’t until he remembered the camera when you were grinding on top of him so pretty, did the question slip out.
“can I take a pic of you?”
your brows furrow, one hand still over his as he squeezed your nipple, the other resting on his chest for balance.
“what d’you mean? why?” your pretty cheeks were flushed, lips glossy and bitten from earlier, blinking at him with mixed confusion.
“I’ve got this old ass camera my gramps gave me, and y’ look hot grinding on my dick all whiney and drooling—jus’ a kink, s’ all,” he shrugs, all casual. as if his admission didn’t make you flush just a bit, brow raising, trying to ignore the way your pussy clenches around his fat cock and not missing the way his sharp canines peak with his smirk.
“m’ not drooling,” you mutter, sighing as you continue rolling your hips, enjoying the way his cock fills you up so good. this was one of the best feelings ever, having sukuna’s dick stuffing you so full, something you’d never admit out loud. “so you’ve done this before?”
he hums. legs adjusting as they spread wider, angling his hips up to let you feel his cock deeper. you whine, rubbing your hand over his muscular pec, nails gently scratching at the tattoos.
“y’ cant show anyone else though, okay?”
his lips curl into a smirk, all the girls are the same, “course not.”
yet, how was he going to explain the internal twist he felt when he captured the photo, and your eyes were looking directly at his chest. “you shy or somethin’?” he laughs.
“if there’s a camera in my face when I’m riding someone’s dick, then yeah—“
“you’re grinding, babe. y’r not even close to riding my dick right now,” he snorts.
you tsk, rolling your eyes, “it was a long day, it’s not easy—“ you stop yourself mid sentence, but the shit eating grin is plastered all over his face.
“what was that?” he holds back a laugh, “not easy to ride this dick? how many times does this make it and you’re still not used to the size?” his words immediately has your pussy fluttering, he grunts, smiling wider.
“whatever take your damn picture already,” you huff, “weirdo. probably keep a secret box of all ‘em. weirdo,” you try your best to ignore the camera right under you, but it was pretty hard, especially when he snaps the picture pulling the polaroid out and shaking it.
“I’m practicing my porno skills. if everything goes to shit I’ll just take photos for playboy magazine or something. gotta build the portfolio, woman.”
you laugh, “you’re dumb as fuck,” you shake your head, still laughing making the man smirk, chuckling.
“you’ll see, ‘m gonna take more photos, show ya’ how pretty y’look, but first,” he puts the camera aside, hands sliding up to your ass, planting his feet on the bed, “I need you to fucking ride this dick—!”
“wai—ah!” you cry, immediately falling forward as he snaps his hips up. the wet slaps fill his bedroom, deafening. his tip drags against your sweet spot, hitting you so deep, you’re able to push up, painting wet kisses all over his neck, panting against his ear, sighing every time he groans into yours in reply.
“you feel s’good, such a good pussy, always so wet and tight,” he grunts into your ear, hand cracking down on your ass. “sit up, baby, keep riding so I can see that puffy clit—y’ wanna rub it against me yeah?”
your sweet whine goes straight to his pulsing cock, especially when you listen and push off his shoulders, chin damp with drool and lips glossy, pretty eyes full of unshed tears.
“you’re such a little slut, c’mon sit fully up, I did most of the work, keep the pace—ngh haah yeah, fuck your pussy’s fuckin’ tight, you feel me deep?”
you nod all dumb and cockdrunk.
“where d’ya feel me, babe?”
you whine, trying to bounce on his big cock, hips slamming as you feel the ache in your legs, but ignoring it because his thick veins were protruding around his dick the drag agaisnt your squelching walls felt so good— his words sink in making your pussy clench around him. manicured nails trail from his abs to rest your soft palm on the bulge in your pelvis.
“y’ feel me there?” sukuna eggs, tongue running across his bottom lip watching your pace slow for second as you stare at the bulge, whining when his rough thumb comes to your clit, pressing against it, before rubbing quick tight circles, making your hips stutter bouncing faster, back arching, showing off more of your pretty tits bouncing lewdly like his little pornstar. “yeah?”
“y-yeah, feel-feel it in my tummy—ahh—“ your body squirms, before planting your palms back on his abs, raising your hips again to come slamming down, his head hit the pillow, head falling back with a loud moan.
“fuck jus’ like that!” he cracks another hand down on your ass, the stinging making you wince and moan, head falling back in pleasure. his thumb continues its quick circles.
“fuck ryo—don’t stop, angh fuck ‘s good, feels fuck—!” you cry out, mouth falling agape chasing your high, whining even louder when he pinches your clit before rubbing fast circles again, the squelching filling the room. the scent of sex and him taking over your senses.
your lashes flutter shut, back arching so beautifully on top of him, chasing your high with mean slams down his cock.
you don’t realize his free hand left your upper thigh to grab the camera beside him, bringing it up to his eye, his tongue peaking out as he looks at the soft light from his nightstand reflecting off your curves, and the way your nipples create a soft shadow as they’re perked up and hard, your glossy bitten lips agape in high pitched moans—snap.
“angh fuck ‘m coming!” you cry, body trembling as you try to ride out your crashing high, vision white, knocking you out. “ryo—!” his legs have already planted themselves on the bed, arms locking around your torso pulling you down to his chest, as he uses you to reach his own orgasm. you’re hugging his head, lips kissing his cheeks and ear, moans so whiney from the overstimulation, pussy squirming on-top of him , unknowingly getting him closer just by your voice.
“fuck keep talkin’ babe, gonna fill ya’ up, tell me y’ want it—“
“mmm ya want it inside—cum inside me—ah fuck y’r twitching inside me—“ you whine directly into his ear, nails scratching his nape, fingers running through his pretty locks, tugging harshly with the brutal thrusts. you lick his sensitive earlobes, making him flinch in pleasure, hips pistoning up from under you, wet plaps fill your ears along with his deep groans. fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling it apart, you’ve already drenches his thighs, his abs flex feelings your mixed juices run down coating his full balls.
“wanna cum with you, ryo,” you whine, hips trying to grind back with every thrust up, pressing your face into his, nuzzling yourself close, whining when you feel the coarse wet hairs of his pubes grind against your clit.
“selfish brat—ngh shit ‘m close—“ sukuna chokes, veins straining on his neck as your lips move to meet his. his tongue automatically opening, so natural as the kiss turns messy and wet, drool and spit mixing as his abs tighten, balls tightening up and you moan loud into his mouth. cumming together.
“ngh fuck—fuck—“ his hips tremble, the pleasure crashing through just like all the times before when you fuck. your pussy milks him, fluttering like a shy slut as his load paints your inside with sticky white cum.
you’re completely spent. panting against his lips, drool falling into his mouth as he rubs your waist. “you came like three fucking times,” he pants, chest heaving underneath you.
“like two times,” you pant, sitting up slowly, eyes falling on the camera, picking it up. “my turn,” you mutter still out of breath, examining the type of camera before raising it to your eye.
it’s hard not to admire a man like sukuna.
he’s huge. ripped. the insane tattoos that span across his sculpted body, and he has that lady killer face. the deep eyes that consume you. the thick brows you can’t help but brush a thumb over. the chiseled jaw littered with your kisses. sharp canines that you can’t help tonguing when you kiss. and of course those naturally glossy pink lips that’s so easy to get drunk off of.
you’re leaning up just a bit, his semi hard cock still nestled inside you as you point the lens at him. the frothy white base easily visible to him.
“there’s no your turn, why the fuck would I want pictures of myself?” he huffs, thick brows pinching in confused annoyance, glaring harshly at the lens trying to sit up—
“because I said, stop whining,” your soft palm presses against his chest pushing him back down. “you shy?”
“I jus’ fucking nutted inside you, and you’re pointin’ a camera in my face. give me a second to breathe,” he mutters, chest clearly still heaving, out of breath.
“almost like what I said,” you stick your tongue out behind the camera, and he rolls his eyes, thumb brushing the sweat on his forehead.
“you liked it, y’r pussy got all tight when I took it,” he reminisces, biting his lip, sharp eyes glancing down at the mess between your legs. humming in satisfaction at the sight.
“my pussy will get tight if I take a picture of you,” you say, and that seems to get him to lay still. “just be natural,” you mutter, not realizing how he’s ignoring the way he listens to you, just to feel your pussy tighten, hands running over your hips in anticipation, letting you snap your picture before he’s snatching it away. “careful,” you whine, leaning over his face to reach for his stretched out arm.
“nice view,” he smirks, face smushed between your tits as you carefully take the polaroid out of the camera, before sitting back on his lap, pussy tightening when you feel his cock start to harden again.
“moaning and groaning about taking my picture, ‘s only fair,” you shrug, fanning the polaroid gently waiting for it to come to life. sukuna rolls his eyes, glancing over at the three he’d taken earlier. “oh, did they come out good?” you immediately reach over the bed to snatch the them up. “eww!!” you shriek.
sukuna barks out a laugh, reaching over to take a look, but you’re pulling away, still analyzing the three.
“ew no these are so bad what the hellllll!”
“shut up—lemme see,” he’s still laughing, holding your wrists to prevent you from hiding them, and snatching them from your grasps.
shit.
“see! just—“ you hold a hand to your mouth fake gagging. “throw them out, rip them up—burn it. I can’t look at it—“
you’re rambling faded into the background of his mind, because his pupils are blown, and his chest is hot.
“what the—you’re unbelievable,” you squirm, unintentionally clenching around his now fully hard cock.
“you look hot,” he mutters, still admiring the photos. “I’m a goddamn artist.”
“what’re you saying—that one is so bad!” you shriek pointing at the one he took of you mid-orgasm. no one wants to see that.
“fuck off, you always look like that when you cum—“
“don’t say that!” you cry out, covering your ears dramatically shaking your head.
“the lighting is so good,” his tongue peaks out to wet his lips, and you hate how you’re distracted by his weird gawking. especially when you sit up straighter, tilting your head in fax confusion.
“and how do i look?”
“I said y’ look hot, that’s nothing new,” he easily answers, you roll your eyes.
“but in the picture…how?”
his eyes casually flick up to you, catching the glint in your irises. you little fuck.
his tongue pokes his cheek, holding back a smirk. “your nipples in the pic is all pretty and perky,” he starts listing, free hand casually moving over to rub his thumb against your nipple. you hum in pleasure, letting him continue.
“what else?”
“your skin…” he glances at the photo, cheeks hot as he feels down your torso, squeezing your hips, “looks like it’s glowing in this light, and it looks soft as shit,” he groans, rough palm feeling the contrast of your soft skin under his finger tips.
you hum again, grinding on his pulsing cock now, his tip casually kissing your sweet spot every grind, fuck he’s so naturally big you blush, his coarse pubes scratch against your swollen clit, adding to your dizziness.
“you’re lips are a mess,” he shifts his thighs open, groaning as you continue rocking, your soft fingers holding his wrist, keeping his palm pressed to your center now, nails gently scratching his forearm, as the other caresses his splayed out fingers. “can see your drool, and y’r cheeks are all wet from cryin’—“
“I don’t cry,” you whisper out, holding back a pathetic moan, because he’s staring up at you from under his thick lashes.
“yeah whatever,” he scoffs, picture falling to the side, because now he can’t take his eyes off of you grinding like a needy bitch, pushing his body up, lips meeting your sternum, kissing between your breasts, licking up your collarbones, before brushing his lips across your own. “fuck, the real thing really is better, but those photos don’t make you look any less,” he mutters, finally wrapping a strong arm around your middle, flipping you both in seconds.
“your dick got hard because of those photos or me?” you quip, letting him pin your wrists above your head. your back arching up, hips grinding up waiting for him to move.
he smirks, “both.” he kisses your lips hot and messy, tongue grinding and mixing with yours as he starts pulling his hips back and snapping them sharp and precise, tip hitting your sweet spot in the first go. “don’t worry, I’ll take more photos,” he kisses your lips, harder, hips driving into you faster, rougher— “of your lips,” he kisses, panting harder as you start whining, “of your tits,” he lists, wet plaps fill the room again. bed creaking. “of your bruised ass,” he groans deep, planting a firm hand beside your head as he picks up the pace. “this slutty fucking pussy—ngh fuck—you’d like that?”
“i wanna take some of you too—ahh, fuck harder ryo!—“
your wrists twist in his grasp, desperate to mark his back as you feel his twitching dick stretch you open, pussy sucking him back every thrust as if his previous load isn’t being shoved deeper inside you and spilling your inner thighs.
“fine,” he groans, face hovering of yours, grip bruising around your wrists as you tilt your chin up, licking his bottom lip. “but only because I wanna jerk off to y’r photos.”
“perv. you jerk off without me?”
“it’s pretty hard,” he admits, laughing when you smile. “cocky shit.”
“you said it, not me,” your lips part, “right there right there—haah fuckk—“
“I know right there,” he snorts. pistoning harder, slamming his fat tip against your squishy sweet spot, veins dragging against your walls making your back arch off the bed. eyes unable to leave your cute face twisting in pleasure.
“gonna cum—close!” you cry, trying to break free from his grip again, but he’s not letting up, lips still kissing and wetting your cheek with his messy tongue.
“fuck barely been five minutes,” he laughs, but doesn’t stop his ruthless pace. “y’r gonna cum, then I’ll fuck you for myself.” you cry out louder. his stomach flips, grinning like a psychotic sex manic, but really he’s elated with any reaction he gets from you.
your eyes half lidded, so blissed as you open your lips for him, chanting his name so adorably, you’re making his stomach twist. “fuck you’re precious…” he mutters.
“huh—ah ngh!—“ you’re so close, head going hazy, along with your senses, unable to digest what he’d just mumbled, especially when his lips start attacking yours, desperate for your pussy to flutter and squeeze his cock to death as you cum.
“let go, cmon cream all over my dick, y’ like how full your tummy is getting? let go,” he chants in your ear, making you whine louder. “jus’ like that pretty girl, i could take a photo of you now. hang it all over my room and door, have your cum face plastered all over the frat so everyone knows how good I make y’ feel.”
your moans get louder, more pathetic, pussy fluttering from his words. he chuckles.
“you’re so easy—you wanna be my slutty musé, woman?” he coos, degrading.
you whine, hips grinding up, mouth agape as his cock squelches, wet thrusts fill your ears, sticky mess covering your thighs, in webby cum, chasing the tightening coil in your tummy. “c-close—pl-pleasee ryo—please—!” your eyes are going blurry, tears filling them just like they always do, and he’s laughing, kissing your lips, muttering dirty nothings getting you to cry out louder.
“can’t hear y’ babe, gotta tell me how good this pussy’s feelin with my dick—“
“fuck I-can’t—haah!” a jumbled moaning mess is what you are right now. orgasm crashing over you, vision going blank. as your moans fill the space between you, muttering his name like a prayer.
and he’ll if you didn’t enjoy the way sukuna didn’t stop after. absolutely wrecking your tight hole to chase his own relief. ignoring your tears, and dumb babbles. his face and chest flushed red, grunting loud and rough with each thrust until he’s filling you up with another heavy load.
so when he’s looking at the photos he’d taken of you the next morning. you’re fast asleep beside him, naked back facing him, and he’s rolling his eyes, tossing them in his drawer. just for another photo to be added the next time you guys fuck.
and he lets you use the camera too, especially when you’re sprawled on his bed, naked and sweaty, stupid grin on your face after being filled up with his load, pressing your foot against his muscular pec, preventing him from snatching the camera from your grimy hands, and he doesn’t fight back. just holds your ankle, rubbing your calf, shamelessly eyeing your pussy as it oozes out his thick white cum. and the snap isn’t missed by him, eyes meeting yours just for you to snap another.
because how could you not capture that look.
so when the box starts filling up and the polaroids run out, he buys more. and for the first time, he decides those photos are just for him, and just for you.
kissing your shoulder as you air out one of the polaroids before admiring it. and he doesn’t have to know that your confidence grows with each photo he takes of you. and you don’t have to know the heat that burns in his chest when you gush over the photos you take of him.
“this one is my favorite so far,” you tease, stupid grin on your face as you wave the photo you took of him eating you out, eyes directly staring at the camera, and your hand tugging his dark salmon locks.
“dumb as fuck,” he glares at the polaroid, grumbling even more when you snap a picture of it with your phone.
“your eyes look pretty,” you hum, “see the way the light hits them, I’m an artist too,” you giggle, especially when he grunts in annoyance. “I’m building my portfolio too. gonna take pictures for playgirl. or maybe even pornos too—“
“shut the fuck up,” he turns your over, lips attacking your neck. “gonna take pictures of other guys’ dicks’?” he grumbles in annoyance.
you hum, “yeah, I took one of yours, so big and pretty when you’re being edged,” you giggle, nails scratching his nape, just for his eyes to meet yours in a dangerous glare.
and so there was a teasing bickering between you both when it came to this weird kink that couldn’t be explained to anyone else. especially considering your non-relationship. it was bedroom talk, who explains that outside the bedroom? the logic only makes sense when you’re both horny.
but now. his friends saw those photos. and it was hard to explain, but worse that they saw you naked. you. you’re just for him. and he promised he’d be the only one to see them. even though you’re fucking gorgeous, you trusted him. and those shitty pledges, fucking oogling you in those photos as if they don’t do enough of that when you come over.
“please, sir, I can’t feel my balls,” one pledge whimpers, snapping sukuna back. he glares at the pledges all down in plank.
“I’m surprised you have any,” sukuna tsks, rolling his eyes, bat resting on his shoulders. “we’re not even close to midnight. I don’t think y’ understand how badly you all fucked up! you should being shitting your pants before I fucking knock one of you out!—“
“ryo?”
sukuna blinks.
gojo and geto turn in surprise, seeing you standing by the sidewalk of the frat, bundled in a hoodie and jeans, along with jacket, it was starting to get colder, you can see your hot breath fogging up. you glance over at the freshmen all in plank, shivering, brow furrowed.
“what’re you doing here?” sukuna snaps, blood curdling when one pledge is staring at you. “fuck are you looking at?” sukuna snap, bat pressing his head harshly.
you cover your mouth with a yawn. “you said you were gonna show me your bike, I just had a work,” you yawn again. “you texted me yeah.”
oh shit.
sukuna drops the bat, immediately crossing the lawn to get to you. “come.”
“okay—oh,” you stumble when he snatches your wrist, dragging you up into the house. your eyes meet gojo’s briefly, eyes quirked as if to say, “what’s happening,” but gojo shrugs, smug as ever making you even more confused.
your lips part when you see him drop the bat by the couch and grab his keys and phone from the coffee table, then dragging you back to him, grip around your wrist. “you good—“
“let’s go to your place,” he finally says, stepping outside, eyeing the shitheads still in plank. “I don’t wanna see any of you until I fucking say,” he barks, disgusted.
“leaving?” geto questions, already knowing the answer, but obviously wanting the vp to admit it.
“they’re all yours, but if I catch one in the house when I’m back, I’m gonna fucking snap,” sukuna’s threat is real. everybody knows. gojo rolls his eyes, but grunts out an order for the pledges to get their clothes back on. all while sukuna storms down the road, you in tow via his unwavering grip.
“woah, what happened,” you catch up to his long steps, turning your wrist from his grip, and holding his sleeve instead, letting him lead the way to the train station, the directions to your place second nature to him. “did they steal something?”
sukuna grunts, affirming.
you whistle, shaking your head. “it might be because of the hazing, you guys should stop doing that—“
“it’s to teach fuckin’ discipline, everyone goes through it—“
“yeah, but i mean, it’s like thirty degrees,” you scold lightly, not realizing the extent of sukuna’s anger.
you freeze, brows pinched, letting go of his wrist, and rolling your eyes. “you’re so annoying.”
his jaw clenches, eyes scanning your face as if digesting all your features, your lips glossed with chapstick, the flush of your face from the cold, the hoodie keeping your warmth inside. your pretty eyes narrowed in annoyance towards him, and brows scrunched so adorably. fuck, and those shit heads all saw you, were they thinking about those photos, he should kill them—
“they’re idiots,” he starts, stepping towards you, naturally warm hand cupping your cheek inside your hoodie. “they fucked up bad,” he leans close, warm breath fanning against one another, nuzzling closer, inhaling your flowery scent. “I’m gonna kiss you,” he mutters, slightly hesitate, the guilt weighing on him, and curious to see if you’ll pull away.
“you’re not gonna convince me that hazing is normal, but kiss me,” you declare, and he hums, meeting your lips.
“ngh shit—gunna cum again he grunts in your ear, moan turning into a pathetic whine that fills your core as his load dumps into you for the second time that night.
the second you stepped into your apartment the man was all over you. fucking you right on the couch, spanks hard, and aggressive. teeth sinking and marking you everywhere. and it lead to him pinning your against the wall heading towards your bedroom, then crashing on top, just to fold you in half, slapping his cock on your wet pussy, tip rubbing against your clit, shivers running through the both of you.
and when he’s dragging his fat girth into your lewd hole, the obscene sounds have you both moaning.
he rolls off, arms stretched over his face, catching his breath. unbothered when you crawl closer, climbing on his lap, hands caressing his pecs, then his collarbone, pushing his arm over his head, hands caressing the muscles of his biceps, they were bigger than your hand.
“can i make it better?” you coo softly. smile gentle, he looked stressed and you weren’t going to start judging what these pledges could’ve done or his reaction. maybe they really stole something big. something precious to him.
his gaze unnerving as he looked between yours. more guilt twisting seeing how pretty and hot you look perched on his lap. his lap. only his. how much more twisted can this get?
“yeah,” he hums. free arm coming down to rub your thigh.
“yeah?” you lean closer, waiting for him to declare something. “tell me,” you whisper.
“closer,” the rasp draws you in. cheeks hot how casually he’s laid on your bed, eyes heavy, gazing at your lips. “closer.”
your lips are hovering over his, eyes just as lidded as you glance at him through your pretty lashes, cheeks hot as he keeps you there, chest to chest, blushing the longer he breathes in your air, calloused palm traveling up your spine sending shivers down your spine.
“kiss me,” he commands.
unable to contain your unexpected jitters, sukuna feels your smile as you slowly press your soft lips against his. so gentle. manicured nails coming to hold his jaw lightly, kissing his bottom lip first, tongue running across it, then his top lip, sucking it in.
the guttural hum sends a flurry of heat through your chest, nails tracing his sharp jaw, pulling back to kiss him again, pecks, than your tongue peaking, than another peck. he’s still calm, following your pace, not increasing it, kissing back only when your lips press against his.
“more,” he sighs, hand running down the dip in your spine to the curve of your ass.
your hand holds his jaw, tilting his chin up, lips molding together, his lips are wet and soft against yours. you wanna taste him, tongue peaking to go in, and he hums parting his lips for you, tongue meeting yours, mixing slow and controlled.
your kisses seem to be just as perfect as everything else about you. his chest aches, tongue desperate, turning this kiss messy, but you control it. nails scraping his neck, holding his neck, thumb under his jaw keeping him in place. and just like all the times before, he gets greedy. hands feeling up your bare sides, palm groping your ass, squeezing.
“y’know I didn’t mean to piss you off,” you mutter against his lips. kissing them when he leans up for more. you peck him a few times, nails scratching his neck lightly, it felt nice. “i just don’t want one of the pledges getting injured—“
“they deserve it,” he husks, kissing the corner of your lips as you sigh.
“you’d get in trouble. you, and satoru, and the frat could be put on probation again,” you gently speak. even though you rarely voice it, he knows how much you hate fraternity culture. it was a surprise you’re still talking to them, but then again, you only speak to him, gojo, and geto, the rest seem to get under your skin. “what if you don’t graduate?”
his grip tightens on your ass, tongue poking out to stroke your bottom lip. “you’re fuckin’ annoying,” his insult doesn’t sting, especially with the way he mutters it, because you were right. your lips curl against his, deepening the kiss, rocking back against his torso, sliding your pussy down to his coarse pubes, your moans like sweet honey when it starts scratching your clit.
“jus’ be more careful,” you add, nails running up, caressing his sharp cheekbones with your thumb.
he grunts, jaw opening so your lips can fall back against his, tongues mean as you continue grinding on him, ignoring his weeping cock brushing against your ass, hanging heavy and untouched. “lean forward,” he husks, arm coming down to grab hold of his cock, groaning at the contact as he rubs it between your cheeks.
“wait,” you sigh, still rolling your hips at the right angle, stimulating your clit, shamelessly allowing your pussy to coat him in more of your slick. “jus’ wanna cum like this,” you moan against his lips, pretty lashes fluttering as you choke on another whine. grinding harder.
“you’re unbelievable—“ his adam’s apple bobs, you’re keeping your pace, kissing him just so you can whine louder, selfishly rubbing back and forth, drenching his dark pink happy trail and thick base in your slicky juices, eyes fluttering, and lips falling agape in pleasure as you get closer. you start trembling, tensing up as your grinding gets sloppier, drool pooling a dripping from your lips to his face.
“fuck.” his groan is deep, admiring every little feature as your cry gets slightly higher pitched, breathless, as you finally cum.
you whine, sitting up and rocking against him, hands grabbing at your own boobs, biting your lips as you ride out your orgasm, sticky pussy juices creating small strings as it hovers over his wet pubes you’d just came on.
“you’re dripping,” he groans, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it.
“mmm yeah,” you take his base, swirling your hips over his weeping tip, letting it drag over your swollen and overstimulated clit. “y’ want me to put it in?” you coo all submissively, doe eyes fluttering down at him, like you’re at his mercy.
he bites back a pathetic groan, cock veins straining as your sweet syrup drips from your pussy down his length as you continue hovering.
“i wanna make you feel better, yeah? tell me you want it,” your words are breathless, low and so very provocative, he couldn’t help that heat that swarm across his chest and lower stomach. your hips calculating as they dipped just to rub his sensitive tip with your wet pussy, occasionally letting his tip nudge your hole just for your to clench squeezing more juices out onto him.
“you want me to beg?—ngh,” his head falls back again, rough when you slip his tip in, then out, tongue lulling out like a little slut as you glance down at his poor cock, tip flushed bright pink.
“I want you to tell me what you want,” your eyes bat at him. “you’re upset.” your sweet voice drips, “you’re frustrated. you’ve been glaring, so…” your thumb runs across his tip, pressing down making his hips buck, grunt slipping out. “I’m here to fix it. so tell me.” you lick your bottom lip, collecting your drool. “I’m all yours.”
fuck.
his pupils dilate. big hands coming to feel your hips. lidded eyes locked on you.
“use me.”
your lips part. a gentle curl peaking from his command, finally sinking down, before slamming the rest letting gravity take over. you both moan in union.
and neither of you address your own words. it was fucking sex. just like those photos. it doesn’t matter what’s said in the bedroom. but maybe his choice of wording, was a small atonement for letting your photos get exposed. for letting people see how fucking precious you are when you’re alone with him.
sukuna didn’t bother thinking about the album on his phone of photos and videos he has of you. and he sure as hell will kill anyone before letting you find out that the guys have seen those polaroids because he’s scared to think how you’ll react. it wasn’t like it was on purpose, he tried punishing them, but you stopped him.
so instead, he kisses your wrists, bucked his hips to keep you bouncing. whispered praises with every drag of his cock through your gummy walls, and didn’t mind fall down the bed after you came, just to lap up your pussy over and over. tongue curling and dragging through your folds until you were crying out in pleasure.
that’s all he can really do.
make you feel good.
and hopefully that’ll be enough to keep you right here under him.
[ more frat!kuna ]
a/n: thank u guys for being so patient w me! i was literally out of the country for two weeks so i wrote this drabble since im still not done w the next chp!
suguru geto has a problem. girls around him keep disappearing—and no one can explain why. the whispers follow him everywhere, but the truth is closer than he thinks: his clingy, possessive girlfriend has a secret.
ᯓ𑣲 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 & 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝚰𝐍𝐆𝐒 :: college life , dirty talk , fingering , overstimulation , dom x sub , fem!oral , rough sex , slut shaming , praise , choking , vampire x bloodbag , blood feeding , mentions of blood and dead bodies , dacryphilia , not proofread. 5k wc.
ᯓ𑣲 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 :: i know this is so ass but whateverrrrr thanks for 5k <3
suguru geto had never struggled to be liked.
he was the kind of guy who drew eyes without trying—the broad-shouldered golden boy, easy with his laugh, sharp with his tongue, generous with his smirk.
professors liked him, classmates adored him, girls tripped over themselves to giggle when he passed, and half the guys wanted to be him. people lingered in his orbit like moths pressed to a flame, even when he didn’t want them there.
and you?
you’d been different.
college had thrown the two of you together, some required course, the kind of dry lecture where half the room slept through equations and slides. suguru sat in the back, long hair tied messily at the nape of his neck, spinning his pen between fingers. you sat up front, always scribbling notes, frowning in concentration. and then one afternoon, when the professor’s words turned into white noise, you’d turned around—looked right at him, unimpressed, like you knew exactly how little attention he was paying.
he remembered it clearly: that slow arch of your brow, the tiniest curl of your lip, the challenge glittering in your eyes. like you were saying, "go on, pretty boy. prove you’re more than just a smile."
something in him had jolted awake.
it had been easy after that. study sessions, shared smokes outside the library, nights spent trading secrets in the glow of vending machine lights. you didn’t swoon like the others—you pushed back, teased, matched him jab for jab. suguru had never laughed as much as he did with you, sprawled on the dorm floor with cheap liquor between you, your head on his shoulder as the night stretched thin.
so when you finally kissed him months later, it had felt less like a shock and more like inevitability. like gravity doing what gravity always does.
life with you was—at first—sweet. uncomplicated. you were touchy in ways he secretly liked, always clasping your with into his, kissing his jaw when he wasn’t expecting it. you showed up at his practices with coffee, waited outside his lectures so you could walk home together. clingy, yeah—but he didn’t mind. not when your clinginess came with the way you whispered his name against his neck, or the way your thighs squeezed tight around him when he fucked into you slow.
he told himself it was normal.
...until people started disappearing.
first it was a girl in your department. suguru hadn’t even realized you’d noticed her—she was quiet, the kind who slipped in and out of rooms like smoke. but she’d lingered near his desk a few times, asked him about notes when class ended. suguru had thought nothing of it.
then, one day, she was gone. stopped showing up. no goodbyes, no texts. just gone.
then a guy from his club. then another girl. one by one, classmates, acquaintances, the people who tried to orbit too close, slipped out of his life. whispers filled the hallways—someone said she’d transferred, someone said he dropped out, someone else swore the missing girl had been seen boarding a bus out of town.
but suguru never saw them again.
and every time someone vanished, your grip on his arm felt tighter.
he tried not to think about it. tried to tell himself it was coincidence, bad luck, life moving people along. but sometimes, late at night, when your head rested on his chest and your breath tickled his collarbone, the thought twisted through him: you knew something.
because you always seemed unbothered. not surprised. not curious. just calm. smug, even, sometimes, when your hand traced over the scarred muscle of his stomach, nails scratching faint lines down his skin.
“you’re mine,” you’d whisper, lips warm against his ribs. “no one else matters.”
and here was the part he hated most: the truth was, he liked it.
suguru, who could’ve had anyone—liked being wanted too much. liked being claimed. liked the sharp edge in your eyes when another girl tried to flirt with him at a bar, the way you pressed close, fingers digging into his arm until he could feel the bruise blooming. it should have been creepy, unsettling. and it was. but it also made his cock hard in ways he didn’t want to admit.
the obsession fit him like a tailored suit.
the longer it went on, the more obvious it became. classmates avoided him. professors stopped calling on him in class. he was still popular—still the smug center of the room—but people glanced over their shoulders when they laughed too hard at his jokes. and always, always, your eyes tracked them, sharp as knives.
once, he tried to test it. at a party, loud and drunk, someone pressed close to him in the kitchen. a girl, laughing, hand brushing his wrist as she leaned in to tell him something. suguru hadn’t pulled back. he hadn’t leaned closer either. he’d just stood there, smirk in place, watching you from across the room.
your expression had been unreadable. the girl disappeared three days later.
that night, when you crawled into his lap, nails dragging over his chest, lips crushing his until his teeth ached, suguru had let you mark him up. let you bite his neck, scratch his back raw. let you fuck him like you were carving mine into his skin with every roll of your hips.
and he’d loved it.
still—sometimes, when he lay awake beside you, when your breath was even and your face was soft in sleep, suguru wondered how far you’d go. how much you’d do to keep him. wondered if he should be afraid.
but then your fingers would twitch in your sleep, curling against his chest, like even unconscious you couldn’t let him go. and his lips would curl into a lazy, smug little smile.
because maybe he should be afraid.
but god, it felt so good not to be.
suguru wasn’t supposed to know.
he’d told himself that for months. every time another girl stopped showing up, every time whispers followed him through lecture halls, he kept his mouth shut. whatever it was you were doing—or not doing—he didn’t want to know. ignorance was easier. safer.
but then came your phone.
it was stupid, really. you’d left it on his desk, screen lighting up when a notification pinged. not a message, not a call. just a location pin from your smart watch, a little red dot on a map. suguru didn’t know why he opened it. boredom, maybe. curiosity. some part of him tired of pretending he didn’t notice the trail of ghosts behind you.
the dot pulsed, steady and ominous, marking an address three streets over.
his pulse tripped.
he told himself not to go. told himself to stay put, wait for you to come back, smile and kiss you like always. but his legs carried him out the door anyway, long strides eating the pavement, hands shoved deep into his pockets like he could hide the tremor in his fingers.
the alley was dark. narrow, smelling faintly of piss and trash. suguru slowed, breath clouding in the cool air, eyes adjusting to the shadows.
and then he saw you.
saw you pressed against a girl he recognized from campus, her body limp, neck tilted at a sharp angle. saw your lips locked to her throat, shoulders trembling as you sucked, the sound obscene and wet. saw the way your nails dug into her hip, pinning her in place, like she was nothing but food.
blood smeared your mouth. glossy, dark, dripping down your chin in rivulets that caught what little light the streetlamp threw into the alley. and your eyes—your eyes were half-lidded, blissed-out, drunk on it.
suguru froze. every thought slammed into a wall inside his skull. run, his brain said. scream. but his body—
but his body betrayed him.
his cock twitched in his jeans, a violent, humiliating pulse that made his breath catch. because it wasn’t just horrific—it was hot. the sight of you feeding, feral and trembling with pleasure, was the filthiest thing he’d ever seen.
“shit,” he muttered, and the word cracked the silence.
you jerked at his voice like he’d shot you. the girl slid boneless to the ground, your head whipping up. wide eyes glowed faintly in the dark, pupils blown, lips slick with blood.
“s-suguru?” your voice was thin, broken, small. like a scared cat hissing when cornered.
you looked at him slowly, trembling, terror and shame flashing across your face. your mouth parted, and a string of blood slipped down your lip.
he should’ve been disgusted. terrified. he should’ve turned and walked away. but instead, his lips curved into a slow, smug smile, heat curling low in his gut.
“so that’s where they’ve been going.” his voice was steady, almost lazy, like he hadn’t just caught you with your mouth full of someone else’s life. his head tilted, dark hair sliding over his shoulder as his eyes dragged over you—bloodied mouth, trembling shoulders, hands still curled into claws.
you swallowed hard, chest heaving. “i—it’s not what you think, I-I...”
“no?” suguru stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the narrow alley. “because it looks exactly like what i think.”
your back hit the wall first. the brick scraped your shoulder blades, the sting nothing compared to the way suguru caged you in, tall frame blocking out what little light trickled into the alley.
“messy,” he murmured, voice velvet-soft but sharp, like he was admiring a painting and damning it at the same time. his thumb reached up, dragged slow across your chin, smearing the warm blood that had pooled there. he brought it to his lips, tongue darting out to taste, and his eyes fluttered shut for the briefest second.
when they opened again, they gleamed dark. hungry.
you shrank into the wall, breath stuttering, pupils still blown wide from feeding. “y-you’re not supposed to—”
“see?” he cut you off smoothly, pressing closer until his chest brushed yours. his lip ring glinted in the dark as he smirked, dangerous and knowing. “or enjoy it?”
your gasp was sharp, a sound caught between shame and fear. suguru chuckled low, the vibration running through his chest as he leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear.
“i should be disgusted,” he whispered, warm breath making you shiver. “but i’m not. i’m fucking hard watching you like that—blood all over your pretty mouth, looking like you’d eat me alive if i let you.”
your throat bobbed, a whimper tearing loose before you could swallow it back.
“that girl,” he tilted his chin toward the body slumped at your feet, voice casual, mocking, “you took so much she couldn’t stand. and yet…” his hand slid down between you, palm cupping the thick bulge straining his jeans. he hissed through his teeth, head tipping back for a second. “i’m still here. still throbbing for you.”
your fingers twitched, curling into his shirt like you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.
he didn’t give you the choice.
his mouth crashed against yours, lips hot, tongue shoving past your teeth without asking. the taste hit him instantly—iron, copper, you. suguru groaned, deep and broken, spit mixing with blood as he swallowed you down like communion. his lip ring dragged against your mouth, sharp, obscene.
“fuck,” he gasped when he tore back just enough to breathe, spit connecting you in a glistening thread. “you taste—” he groaned again, rolling his hips against you, grinding his cock into your stomach. “you taste better than anything.”
you whimpered, high and thin, tears shining at the corners of your lashes, and it only made his cock twitch harder.
“crying already?” suguru murmured, smirk softening into something darker, almost reverent. his thumb swiped under your eye, catching the first wet streak. “you don’t even know what i’m gonna do to you.”
he kissed you again, harder this time, spit-slick and filthy, one hand sliding down to grip your ass through your skirt, dragging you up against him. his piercings brushed your lip, your tongue, each metallic scrape a shock that made you gasp into his mouth.
“go on,” he coaxed, voice a low growl as he broke for air, nose brushing yours. “bite me. you want it, don’t you? all that bloodlust—you’ve been using it on everyone else, but not me.” he tilted his head back, exposing the strong line of his throat, the flutter of his pulse. “feed on me, baby. i can take it.”
the way his voice curled around those words—cocky, daring, edged with lust—left no room for refusal.
you lunged.
your fangs sank into his throat, sharp and merciless, and suguru’s moan ripped free, cracked and raw. his hips bucked, grinding into you helplessly, cock straining against denim.
“fuck—yes—” his hands gripped you tighter, one sliding into your hair to keep you there, the other shoving under your shirt to claw at your skin. “take it, take all you need.”
blood welled, hot and thick, spilling over your tongue. his taste was different from the girl’s—richer, heavier, dizzying. it burned through you like fire and honey all at once. suguru’s breath shuddered, eyes rolling back as you drank, as he fed you what should have been his lifeline.
“god, you’re making me *so* fucking hard,” he groaned, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes from the sharp, searing pain of your bite. “don’t ever stop.”
your teeth sank deeper, suguru’s throat convulsing against your tongue, and he choked on a laugh that broke into a sob. not pain—not really—but the delirious, dizzying edge of it. his piercings clinked faintly when his lip dragged over his teeth, jaw slack as he rutted harder into you like he couldn’t stop himself.
“fuck—look at me,” he gasped, voice raw, and his hand dragged your face up, smearing his own blood across your mouth. his thumb pressed past your lips, prying them open, showing him the way his blood streaked your tongue. “filthy little thing… you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”
you whined, muffled around his thumb, saliva and iron pooling at the corner of your lips. suguru smirked through his ragged breathing, leaning in close until his piercings scraped your skin, until you felt his cock grind obscene circles into your stomach.
“don’t answer,” he whispered, pressing harder until you gagged softly, spit spilling down your chin. “i can fucking see it.”
your thighs squeezed together, desperate friction against nothing, and suguru noticed instantly. “so needy. fuck, i should spank you for keeping this from me—” he tore his hand away, only to spin you, pressing your front against the brick wall. your cheek scraped the rough surface, your ass shoved back against the thick bulge of him.
the slap came sharp, sudden—his palm colliding with the curve of your ass, the sting blooming hot under your skirt.
you gasped, high and thin. he spanked you again, harder this time, the sound echoing off the narrow alley.
“yeah,” he groaned, raking his lip ring between his teeth as he watched your body jolt. “you like it. can feel you clenchin’ just from that—fuck, you’re so easy to read.”
he shoved your skirt up, groaning when your cunt glistened under the alley’s dim light. two of his fingers sank into you without finesse, stretching you clumsily, fast.
you whined into the brick, drool wetting your chin, your cunt fluttering helplessly around his knuckles.
“already dripping,” he hissed, curling them deep and slow. “gonna take my cock like this? out here where anyone could see—fuck, you’d let them watch, wouldn’t you?”
he thrust his fingers faster, reckless, hitting deep until your knees buckled and you sobbed against the wall.
“cry for me, baby,” suguru urged, his piercings brushing your cheek as he leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. “let me hear it—i wanna watch those tears roll while i split you open.”
his thumb ground down on your clit—sloppy, unrelenting, not giving you space to breathe. your thighs locked up around his wrist, useless resistance when his fingers kept curling deep, pressing that spot that made your vision swim.
the orgasm didn’t just hit—it tore through you. your cunt clamped around his fingers, fluttering in frantic, messy pulses, like your body couldn’t decide if it wanted to force him out or drag him in deeper. your stomach knotted, spine arched off the couch, breath breaking into choked cries you couldn’t swallow down.
“nghh—ahhh—i c-can't—” your words dissolved into sound, voice splitting apart as slick gushed around his hand, dripping down to the base of his palm. you twitched with every aftershock, clit aching under his thumb even as your body kept grinding against it, greedy for more.
the climax stretched too long, messy and humiliating, until you were left shaking under him—pussy still clenching, still leaking around his fingers like it hadn’t figured out you were done.
suguru groaned, rutting harder against your ass, cock straining painfully in his jeans. “fuck—look at you. already ruined.”
he didn’t let you breathe—shoved his jeans down just enough to free himself, cock slapping heavy and wet against your ass. thick, swollen, veins ridged and angry like ropes under his skin. the piercing at the crown gleamed slick, a cruel little stud that promised to grind every tender spot inside you raw. the shaft was flushed dark, pre-cum already smearing hot across your skin. ten inches of brutal stretch—unforgiving, mean, too much for anyone sane to want—waiting.
he spit into his hand, slicking himself, then spread you open with his blood-stained fingers.
“hold still,” he gritted, voice breaking. “gonna fuck you so deep you’ll feel me in your throat."
the first push had you crying out, palms flat, forehead pressed to the wall as his cock split you open—too wide, too deep, too much. it felt impossible, the stretch cruel, your cunt spasming around the fat head like it wanted to force him out and drag him deeper all at once.
“n-no—fuck, it’s not—” your voice cracked, every word broken by the pressure tearing through you. “you’re too big, 'guru, you’re gonna—nghmh—rip me.”
he only groaned louder, a raw, feral sound that scraped from his throat, head tipped back against the wall, throat still bleeding sluggishly from your bite. his chest heaved, sweat dripping down his neck, and the sluggish trail of blood from your earlier bite streaked down over his collarbone.
“tight—fuck, so fucking tight,” he rasped, grinding forward another inch, the piercing at his tip catching on every tender spot inside you until your nails clawed against the wall. “you feel that? already molding around me.”
“i c-can’t—it’s too much,” you whined, voice going high and thin, eyes screwed shut as your legs shook.
suguru leaned in close, hot breath at your ear, his hips unrelenting. “yeah, you can. you’re taking it. all of it.”
you sobbed, sharp and high, tears blurring your vision. suguru’s hand slid up, wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to cut your air as his hips snapped flush against you.
“there,” he groaned, pressing you harder into the brick. “right there—stuffed full, all mine. you feel it? my cock in your womb?”
you keened, cunt spasming, and suguru’s smirk cracked into something desperate.
he fucked you there against the wall, brutal rhythm, spit dripping from his open mouth, your tears smearing into the brick. the sounds were obscene—wet, messy, your cunt squelching around him, his balls slapping your ass.
“overstim’s gonna wreck you,” he panted, biting your ear as his thrusts got rougher, faster. “gonna cum in you—again and again—till you’re dripping down your thighs while people walk past.”
and he meant it. every filthy word sank deep as his cock, every thrust shoving you harder into the wall until you were crying non-stop, until he was groaning raw against your skin, until spit and blood and cum all blurred together in the alley’s shadows.
“shit—” his voice cracked, low and viciously pleased. his palm pressed harder to your throat, pinning you there against the wall as he held himself deep. “so fucking tiny around me. squeezing like you’re gonna milk me dry before i even move.”
your nails scraped the brick, breath choking against his grip. fresh tears welled and spilled before you could stop them, rolling hot down your cheeks. suguru leaned in, tongue lapping one up, humming like he was tasting wine.
“sweet,” he murmured, smirk curling even as his cock pulsed deeper, bruising your insides with just the weight of him. “cry more. makes me harder.”
and god, he wasn’t lying—his cock jerked inside you, the piercings scraping new lines of sensation that made your legs shake.
he drew out slow, the stretch dragging, your body clutching desperately at every inch. then he slammed back in, the slap of his hips rattling through your bones.
you sobbed into the wall, body arching, cunt convulsing around him.
“loud little thing,” he chuckled, voice fraying, fucking into you again with brutal force. “good thing no one cares out here. just another girl getting wrecked in an alley—” he cut off with a groan, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “—by a cock too big for her.”
your cunt squeezed at the taunt, clenching so tight it made him curse, low and raw.
“shit—hear that?” he panted, pulling halfway out and shoving back in until the squelch echoed. “you’re gushing, fuck. dripping down my balls already.”
his hand left your throat only to shove two blood-stained fingers into your mouth, prying your jaw wide.
“open,” he demanded, grinding deeper until your stomach bulged faintly around his sheer size. he pushed your head to the side, forcing you to look down—forcing you to see the outline of him moving under your skin.
“there,” suguru rasped, smug even as his own breath hitched. “see what i’m doing to you? stuffed full, split open—take a good look, baby.”
your eyes blurred, spit spilling down your chin around his fingers. he laughed softly, pulling them out just to spit into your mouth, letting it drip heavy onto your tongue.
“swallow.” his voice cut sharp, rough enough to make you startle.
you obeyed, throat working around his spit, a choked whine slipping out as it slid down. his cock twitched inside you when he saw it—when he felt the way your body clenched up at the order. “atta girl. now keep that throat ready. might use it when i’m done ruining this cunt.”
his pace grew harsher, your ass bouncing back against him with every thrust, his piercings grinding in brutal, sparking scrapes that had you clenching, shuddering.
he pressed back to your throat, cutting off your air again until your vision swam, until tears poured freely down your face.
he groaned at the sight—your eyes rolling, your body shaking around him—and eased his grip just enough for you to gasp. then he slammed deeper, shoving the air right back out of you.
“perfect,” suguru whispered against your ear, voice like velvet frayed to threads. “you’re perfect like this. crying, choking, body all full of me.”
his pace was merciless, every thrust punching your breath out in ragged cries, every drag of his cock stretching you to the brink. he was thick everywhere—shaft fat and veined, pierced through the crown and ridged with metal that caught against your walls like cruel little hooks. you could feel the blunt swell of his head battering your cervix, the weight of him grinding until your stomach ached with it. he filled you so utterly that your cunt had no choice but to mold around him, sucking him in, slick and raw.
“nghmn—listen to you,” he groaned, head falling back as your broken moans filled the alley. “so loud for me. music, baby. fucking music.”
your body arched back, walls spasming, every nerve white-hot. the words went straight through you, made your cunt squeeze tighter around him, milking his cock like your body was begging for his cum.
he felt it. of course he fucking did. he smirked against your shoulder, voice shaking ever so slightly. “yeah. that’s it. moan for me. let everyone hear who’s splitting you open.”
you gasped his name, high and cracked, tears streaking your cheeks. his hand left your throat, slid rough down your arm until he offered his wrist in front of your mouth, deliberate.
“go on,” he rasped, thrusts faltering for just a moment as his eyes burned into yours. “i know you want it. bite. feed.”
you lunged, fangs sinking into his skin with desperate hunger. the taste hit you instantly, hot and metallic, suguru’s pulse beating frantic against your tongue. he groaned deep, the sound of surrender and arousal twisted together.
“yeahhh,” he panted, hips stuttering, cock jerking deep inside you. “take it. take everything, baby. bleed me while i fuck you.”
your lips locked around his wrist, sucking greedily, blood painting your tongue as he drilled into your cunt. you moaned around him, muffled and wet, and the vibration shot through his bones.
“holy shit—” suguru’s voice broke, his smirk collapsing into raw gasps. “you sound so good when you drink from me. messy little thing, whining around my blood while i’m wrecking your cunt.”
your pussy gushed at the praise, clenching down on his cock so tight he swore he felt the metal piercing scrape against your walls.
“look at this,” he groaned, pulling back almost entirely just enough to slam in again, hips smacking your ass. “my fat cock splitting you in two, all stretched and drooling around me. can feel your heartbeat inside your cunt, squeezing me like you’re addicted.”
your body shook, drool and blood smearing your chin as you whimpered against his wrist, still sucking, still moaning. “nghh, please—'s too deep, i can’t—”
he shuddered at the sight, at the feel of your tongue lapping his wound while your walls fluttered around his cock. “keep drinking, keep crying, keep fucking moaning for me.”
he pulled his wrist back only to slap your cheek lightly with it, blood smearing across your lips. then he shoved his fingers into your mouth, forcing your head back so he could watch you drool and gag on them, his cock still pounding mercilessly into your soaked cunt.
“louder,” he ordered, twisting his fingers on your tongue, fucking your mouth with them while he ruined your pussy. “i wanna hear every filthy little sound you make. wanna hear you scream my name when i fill you up.”
and god, his cock was already twitching, already fattening inside you like he was close, like he was on the edge of spilling deep.
you were clenching, sobbing, begging, your nails raking the wall as your body threatened to give out under the sheer onslaught. “mmph—c-can’t—”
“again,” suguru groaned, biting your shoulder as his hips hammered faster. “cum again for me. soak my cock. milk me dry while i stuff you full.”
and you did—your cunt convulsing violently, gushing down his length yet again, coating his balls obscenely. “don’t—don’t make me—ahh—”
suguru’s moan tore out of him low and desperate, hips jerking at the sight of you falling apart so messily on his cock.
he grabbed your chin, forcing your head back, making you meet his fucked-out gaze as he snarled, “that’s it. my greedy little thing. squeeze me tighter—don’t ever let me go.”
suguru’s thrusts turned brutal, every slam of his hips a full-body jolt that shoved your spine into the wall. his cock felt impossibly huge now, the piercing dragging across your walls with each drag out, punching against your cervix every time he bottomed out. you were already wrecked, sobbing and trembling, body milking him so hard he had to grit his teeth just to keep from spilling too soon.
“you feel that?” he groaned, voice shredded, chest slick against your back. “how tight you’re clenching? how you’re choking my cock like you never wanna let me leave?”
your cunt spasmed around him in answer, the gush of slick dripping down his thighs.
“goddamn,” he hissed, head falling forward into the crook of your neck. “you’re gonna make me dump it all inside this greedy pussy, huh? stretch you out until you’re dripping full of me?”
your whimpers turned frantic, begging noises that cracked high in your throat. your body pulsed around him like you were pulling the words out of his mouth.
suguru’s rhythm broke, his hips stuttering as his cock swelled, the piercing catching painfully perfect against your walls. he growled low, and then slammed deep one last time, grinding in hard until his pelvis crushed against yours.
the first spurt hit like fire—thick and hot, flooding your cunt so violently you gasped around it. suguru cursed loud, guttural, his cock twitching with every pulse of release.
“mnmm—i’m gonna—” his voice fractured, groan breaking into a sharp cry. “take it—take it all”
rope after rope spilled into you, hot and obscene, until your stomach felt like it was being filled from the inside. his cock kept jerking, kept drooling cum in heavy spurts, and you could feel it spilling back out, dripping down your thighs even as he stayed buried deep.
“look at that,” he rasped, pulling his hips back just enough for a thick strand of white to ooze out of your hole, stretching sticky between his cock and your cunt. he groaned at the sight, shoving back in and grinding so the mess smeared deeper. “leaking already. greedy thing can’t even hold all of it.”
you cried out, overstimulated, body clamping down around him in aftershocks. the sensation of him rutting into the cum he’d just dumped inside you made your cunt seize and gush again, milking his cock for every last drop.
suguru’s forehead pressed to the back of your head, breath hot and broken. “say it—say you love how messy i make you.”
your voice cracked, words tangled with sobs. “i—I love it, love you—love your cum inside me—”
he snarled, satisfied, grinding in deep until your cunt made wet, sloppy noises around him. his cock twitched again, another weak spurt leaking into the mess already stuffing you.
“good girl,” he panted, releasing your throat to slap your ass, making the cum drip faster down your legs. “so fucking good. ruined for anyone else.”
and there it was—suguru slumped against you, cock still buried, still twitching, the two of you painted in filth. your thighs sticky, his stomach smeared, the alley floor wet with everything your bodies had spilled.
he chuckled low, fucked-out, voice still shaking. “you’re mine. no one else gets this. no one else gets you dripping full like this.”
his words made your cunt clench weakly, dragging another moan out of you, and suguru just grinned, rolling his hips one more time, grinding the piercing hard into your swollen walls, making sure you felt every inch of him before he finally stilled.
your legs barely worked. every step was a wobble, cum dripping down your thighs in thick, sticky trails. suguru tugged his cock free with a wet sound, the last of his release sliding out of you in a gush that made you whimper and clutch at the wall.
“fuck, look at you,” he murmured, voice smug and fond all at once, zipping his jeans back up while his eyes drank in the mess he’d made. “wrecked. can’t even stand straight.”
“shut up,” you mumbled, breath still ragged. your lips were swollen, mouth still stained faintly with blood, and your glare had no heat. “you nearly split me in half.”
he smirked, quick hands tugging your dress up before shoving it back down into place, like hiding evidence. then he crouched low and scooped you up without effort, muscles flexing as if you weighed nothing at all. your body sagged against his chest, boneless, too wrung out to fight, though your mouth still tried.
“put me down—” your voice cracked, weak and breathless. “hey—i can walk by myself, suguru—ugh!” your head lolled against his shoulder, words slurring. “i hate you...”
“hate? please. you love me,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple.
you snorted weakly. “cocky bastard.”
“mm, takes one to know one.” suguru started walking, carrying you out of the alley with the easy swagger of a man who knew exactly how filthy the two of you looked and didn’t care. the streetlights caught the shine of spit on his jaw, the damp patch on his jeans, the faint smear of your lipstick still clinging to his mouth.
you buried your face in his chest, voice muffled. “what if someone sees?”
“let ‘em,” he shrugged, shifting you higher in his arms when your thighs trembled. “half the campus already thinks i’m untouchable. might as well prove i’ve got someone who actually knows how to touch me.”
your lips twitched into a weak smile despite yourself. “you’re insufferable.”
“maybe.” his grin sharpened. “but i’m also the guy carrying you home ‘cause you can’t walk after getting stuffed full of me.”
your cheeks burned hot. “don’t say it like that—”
he chuckled, leaning down so his mouth brushed your ear. “what? stuffed full? dripping down your thighs? everyone you drained couldn’t even compare, huh? all those pretty little necks, but now you’re addicted to my cock instead.”
your breath hitched, your nails tightening in his shirt. “…suguru.”
he kissed your cheek, deceptively soft, before adding low, “next time you feel like putting your mouth on someone, don’t bother with random girls in alleys. you can suck me whenever you want.”
your eyes snapped up, wide. “you’re serious?”
“dead serious,” he smirked, eyes glinting. “hell, i’ll even let you do it in public if it keeps you outta trouble. long as you look at me while you’re dripping down your chin.”
your body twitched in his arms, torn between mortification and arousal, and he laughed low in his throat, tightening his grip on you.
“don’t worry,” he added, brushing his lips over your hairline. “you’re mine. i don’t care what kind of monster you are—you belong to me. and i’ll keep letting you feed, as long as you keep letting me ruin you like this.”
you swallowed hard, heart pounding against his chest. “…deal.”
his grin softened into something almost tender, though his cock still twitched at the thought of it. “mhm, perfect.”
and with that, suguru carried you the rest of the way home, the night alive with secrets only the two of you would ever share.
ribbon by @/saradika-graphics and dividers by @/cursed-carmine <3
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