wc: ~7.8k | cw: fratjo! slight angst, possessive/obsessive tendencies, toxic relationship dynamics, post-abortion grief, substance abuse references, panic attack, childhood emotional neglect/control, toxic family dynamics, academic pressure, self-loathing, music references, gojo highkey going thru it again
a/n: just a lil heads up, any dialogue written in italics is to show that the characters are speaking in japanese!
หหยฐโข*โโท
AFTER EXPERIENCING THE worst birthday of his entire life, Satoru Gojo believes, rather foolishly, that nothing can possibly get worse.ย
Then final grades are released.ย
And suddenly? The soaked clothes, the coke, the club, the ultrasound shaking in his hand, the mochi, your lips on hisโall of it has found a new place to bleed.ย
His fucking GPA.ย
Gojo just stares at the screen, sitting there at his desk in the quiet wreckage of his room with his laptop open in front of him and the number glowing back like an accusation.ย
This has to be a mistake, is his first thought, because he does not get grades like these. He never has. Not in high school or college, not even in the classes he barely respected enough to attend with any sort of genuine consistency. No. Never.
There are plenty of things people misunderstand about him, and for the most part, he lets them. Itโs easier that way. Play the part of the frat boy. Let them think heโs just rich, that he coasts along life. Let them think that the face, the name, the money, the effortless charm means there isn't a brain underneath the performance.ย
That assumption has always served him fine. Girls donโt care that he could destroy a finance case study in one sitting. His brothers didnโt need to know he could skim fifty pages before class and still debate circles around half the room. The professors, though, figured it out eventually. The wealthy international student from Japan, the pretty frat boy asshole who everyone assumed was an idiot, is actually intelligent. Very intelligent. They are always quietly surprised when they realize that, as if intelligence looks strange on someone so attractive and careless.
Even you didnโt know the full extent of it. You knew he was quick-witted, obviously. Sharp in that annoying way that made him impossible to argue with. He was clever, strategic, cruelly observant when he wanted to be, you know all of that from experience. But, you had zero idea about the substantial fact that he is rather a genius, despite the role he plays.ย
He never told you, not directly at least. He didnโt offer it up like it was something precious worth knowing about him because the thought of you looking too closely at him, well, another version of him he didnโt know how to explain, scared him shitless.ย ย
He blames his silence on the possibility that intelligence, much like everything else in his life, had never felt entirely his. No, that belonged to his family firstโthe Gojo name. Proof of his usefulness and that he is capable of being handed an empire that he never asked to inherit.ย
Though, Satoru figured he shouldnโt feel too bad for withholding this information from you. He never told anyone, never corrected anyone, either. Being underestimated is useful when youโre arrogant enough to enjoy proving others wrong. But this? This is wrong in a way that makes his skin sting bitterly cold.ย
He refreshes his Canvas page once, then twice, like the big fat 68% on his Microeconomics final might rearrange itself out of embarrassmentโฆTo his dismay, it doesnโt. His perfect 4.0 GPA is now tainted, the A+ he formerly had has dropped to a B- because of the exam that was worth more than half of all the other assignments combined.ย
He leans back in his chair and drags both hands over his face, pressing hard enough that colors spark behind his eyelids. His room is still a disaster from the last few days; clothes on the floor, empty water bottles by the bed, the faint sweetness of your perfume still clinging to fabric he should have washed but refuses to, the mochi you had gifted him has since been eaten, yet he couldnโt find it in himself to throw out the boxโitโs there on his nightstand, close to him while he sleeps so that maybe heโll dream of you and not the other shit thatโs been haunting him. On his desk, half-hidden beneath his notebook, the corner of a sketch peeks out.ย
Your eyes. Again.ย
He looks at it and immediately wants to rip the paper in half. Because, Godโthey look too real, alive almost. Your lashes, the shape of your gaze, the softness at the corners that he has no business recalling in this much detail.ย
He had drawn them during a lecture he didnโt listen to, then again at three in the morning. Then again after checking his phone and finding no reply from you. Yeahโฆyou never did reply to that text he sent on his shitty night out. That was probably for the best anyway. Hope is a dangerous thing for a man like Satoru Gojo. So, heโs better off like this.ย
Though, it had only started with drawing your eyes. But then, your eyes morphed into a page of your mouth. Your neck with your own initial where his chain used to be. The tilt of your head in his passenger seat when you admitted that you missed him too.
He had told himself this was just something to do with his hands, which is a lie, obviously. Apparently, grief does not just ruin sleep, appetite, dignity, and, subsequently, your life. Apparently, it also digs up old graves, hands you a pencil, and tells you to start sketching the girl who left you.ย
Satoru lowers his hands and looks back at the grade. He uselessly tries to convince himself itโs fine. People bomb finals all the time. Heโs seen other students cry in library bathrooms during finals week, walk out of exams looking shell-shocked, email professors with desperation seeping through every word. Thatโs normal college misery shit. But, he canโt be normal about this.ย
Heโs not supposed to be the guy who lets a breakup crawl into his coursework or the guy who rereads one stupid birthday text until four in the morning instead of reviewing for Microeconomics. Heโs not supposed to sketch your face in the margins of his notebook while the professor explains material that will absolutely be on the final. And he is definitely not supposed to glare at one question for seven minutes because the word โfutureโ appeared in the prompt and suddenly all he can think about is a folded ultrasound tucked behind his ID.ย
A bitter laugh leaves him before he can even think to stop it. Of course you would find a way to ruin accounting too. Except itโs not really you who ruined it, and that realization wipes the disbelieving smile off his face. He did. He ruined it. He ruined everything.
He sat in class and didnโt listen. He opened practice exams and saw your face instead of numbers. He spent nights drawing when he should have been studying; drinking and snorting coke when he should have been sleeping, then lying awake sick with the guilt when even heavy intoxication couldnโt get his head quiet enough to rest.ย
This grade isnโt bad luck. Itโs only just more evidence, another exhibit in the case of how badly heโs unraveling.
Fuck, maybe I shouldnโt have flushed the Adderallโ
His phone buzzes on the desk and he glances at it too fast, pathetic muscle memory snapping his attention toward the screen. The notification didnโt come from you, though a small part of him wished it did. Rather, itโs an email from the registrar and three texts from Ryanโs dumbass.ย
ryan: grade drop yet?
ryan: bro if i failed mirco econ im killing myself ong
ryan: also you alive? you dipped outta class hella quickย
Gojo flips the phone facedown. The fucking guy canโt even spell micro right and is wondering if he failed?
Damnโฆguess Iโm not one to talk.ย
He doesnโt bother texting him back. He canโt talk to Ryan right now. Canโt hear some joke about finals or GPA not mattering when youโre hot and rich and inheriting your familyโs multi-billion dollar company anyway. No, he canโt stomach that, because none of this is small.ย
A 68% is not small. A B- is not small. A less than 4.0 GPA is not small.ย
Not for the family he is flying home to tomorrow.
Home.ย
Heโs always hated home, but now even more so.ย
His mother will ask as soon as she sees him before she asks about anything else. That is the first real blade of panic sheathed between his ribs.ย
She will ask because she always does. His grades donโt exist privately, they arenโt something he can just hide and lie about like other students can. Nothing about him exists privately. His transcript is more than just school. Itโs proof of discipline and control, and that the future heir to the Gojo company is still worth trusting with everything his family has decided heโll run.ย
A slip is not a slip in that house. A slip is a symptom, and his parents love hunting for causes.
Because this is not the first time his grades have slipped. The last time they did, his parents found the cause rather quickly. Drawing. Except it was only that. It wasnโt drawing and the loss of you and the life he almost had.ย
It was only a slight dip of his grades. A microscopic imperfection, really. But in the Gojo household, imperfection does not stay small for long. Satoru remembers it all too clearly.
He was nine then, maybe ten. Young enough that his feet didnโt fully touch the floor when he sat in the stiff armchair by his fatherโs office window. Naive enough that the pencils in his hand felt more important than anything else in the world. Innocent enough to believe that if something made him happy, that happiness must be allowed to exist somewhere in his world.ย
He had dreams then.ย
Small ones, stupid ones, probably even impossible ones. The kind of dreams children form before adults teach them what lineage costs and what is expected of them. He used to think maybe he could draw forever. Maybe he could make beautiful things for no reason except the simple fact that he liked making them. He could become an artist, oh, or an architect, or anything other than the pre-decided thing his family had already built a life around him becoming.ย
How silly he was to think such things. How silly he was to have even dreamt at all.ย
He can see his fatherโs study when he shuts his eyes. Dark wood, pale winter light. The smell of paper, leather, and ink filling his senses. His mother standing near the desk with one of his sketchbooks open in her hands, turning the pages slowly with the same calm attention she gives documents littered with errors.ย ย
His father stands beside her. Neither is angry in the way youโd expect. They never show emotion openly. They donโt yell or slam doors. They donโt ask their son why heโs been staying up late drawing buildings and nameless faces and mythical creatures in the margins of his workbooks. They donโt ask why he hid the art under his bed or why his fingers are always smudged gray at the tips.ย
No, they donโt give a damn, honestly. They only care about cold, hard facts. They simply present the evidence. His math marks had slipped. A few points lower than they wanted. And they found the answer hidden beneath his bed.ย
Sketchbooks, charcoal pencils, ink pens. A book on figure drawing, another on architecture. Cheap tiny things, most of them, bought secretly and tucked away like treasure.ย
His mother turns another page. On it is a portrait of the housekeeper who used to sneak him warm milk when he couldnโt sleep. Her name was Emi. She had gentle eyes and a soft voice, and once, after discovering one of his drawings folded into a textbook, she smiled at him like he had handed her something precious.ย
โYouโre very good, Satoru-sama,โ She had whispered.ย
He had never forgotten that. It was about the only words of encouragement he had ever received. Though he pretended not to care, he proceeded to draw her until two in the morning that same day.ย
It wasnโt perfect by any means. The eyes were a little too wide, the shading clumsy around the lips, but he had worked on it all night because he wanted to get her smile right. She had looked at the sketch when he finished it and covered her mouth with one hand.ย
โYou made me look kind.โ
โYou are kind,โ Satoru had answered.ย
Now his mother stared at that same drawing without an ounce of emotion, โShe bought these for you?โ
Satoruโs throat tightened as he looked at the sketchbook, then at his father, then down at his knees, โShe said I should practice.โ
His fatherโs face didnโt move an inch, his mother slammed the book shut, โThat was not her place.โ
Something cold moved through Satoru then. Confusion at first, unable to comprehend how something given out of grace can become wrong just because an adult has decided it is.ย
His father steps forward and picks up one of the pencils from the desk, โSatoru,โ He said, voice even, โYour marks have declined.โ
Satoru looked at the pencil instead of his fatherโs face, โO-Only a little.โ
His motherโs gaze sharpened. A little, in that house, is not a defense. A little is proof that he doesnโt understand the capacity of what is expected of him as the only child of the Gojo family.ย
โThis,โ His father noted, lifting the pencil slightly, โIs why.โ
Satoruโs hands curled in his lap, โ...Itโs just drawing.โ
โNo,โ His mother snapped, โItโs distraction.โ
The word landed with certainty, like once she had named it as such it could no longer be anything else. His father broke the pencil in half right after, the sound was so small, yet Satoru flinched anyway. Then, his mother began placing the sketchbooks into a black trash bag one by one.ย
He watched all of it, because they made him watch. That is the part he remembers most. The witnessing, the instruction of it. His motherโs pristine, white sleeve brushing against the dark plastic bag. His father gathering the art books from the desk. Pages disappearing, hours disappearing. Small, private pieces of himself being discarded like they are garbage.
His parents always handled his happiness like paperwork.ย
โYou are not a boy who gets to waste time dreaming,โ His mother informed.ย
His father adds, colder somehow, sounding almost bored, โDreams are for people with nothing expected of them.โ
Satoru doesnโt cry. Not there. Not in front of them, he couldnโt. He just sat very still while his mother took the sketchbook with Emiโs portrait and placed it in the bag too. He thought, stupidly, childishly, that maybe sheโd spare that one because itโs good. Emi assured him it was. The eyes were almost right, the smile was sweet, he spent an entire night fixing the shading on her cheek, and he adored it.ย ย
But his mother spared nothing. By dinner, all the art supplies had been removed from his room. And by morning, Emi was gone too. None of the other staff said the word fired in front of him, no one had the heart to. He caught her in the entryway with her coat on and her bag clutched in both hands. She bowed deeply to his mother, then his father, then, finally, to him.ย
She didnโt look at him long, which made it worse. Because even at nine years old, Satoru understands shame. He knew that she was leaving because of him. Since she bought him the pencils and books. She encouraged him to keep going. Because he loved something too obviously and someone had been kind enough to help him love it.ย
He wanted to say Iโm sorry.ย
He wanted to beg, please donโt go.ย
He wanted to tell his parents it wasnโt her fault, that he asked, that he wanted them, that he was the problem.ย
But his fatherโs hand rested lightly on his tiny shoulder in silent warning, so Satoru said nothing. Emi bowed one last time, then left. Later on, that night, he cried in the bathroom with the faucet running. Quietly, ugly, and soundless into the sleeve of his silk pajamas, teeth pressed hard into the fabric because even then he knew better than to be heard.ย
His chest hurt with it, his throat ached. He sobbed until his round, pale face felt swollen and hot and humiliating.ย
It wasnโt because of the pencils or drawings, entirely. He now understood something.ย
Love is not something he is allowed to have. Real love, the gentle kind that sits beside his bed with warm milk and tells him heโs good at something no one else cares to even notice. Buys him cheap pencils and art books and whispers that he should keep going, looking at the things he made with his own hands and treating them like they matter.ย
No.ย
Love like thatโsoftness like that, does not belong in a house like this.
He imagines that his parents love him, maybe, in the surface level way people like them know how to. Through discipline and expectation; expensive clothes and private tutors and language lessons and posture perfected with a hand anchored between his shoulder blades. Their version of love shines through reminders of what he owes, who he is, and what will one day be his whether he wants it or not.ย
But Emi, she had loved little Satoru differently. In small, careful gestures that to the average person are the bare minimum, yet to him, meant everything. And his parents tossed her out too.ย
That is what hurts mostโlosing Emi. The only person in that house who had ever made love feel like gentleness instead of surveillance.
So Satoru learned the lesson clearly with her removal and the banishment of his hobby.
He cannot love things. He cannot dream things.ย
Dreams require wanting. Wanting requires softness. Softness creates weakness. And weakness, in the Gojo household, is corrected until nothing living remains.ย
So he stops, slowly. Children seldom kill parts of themselves so cleanly. He stops drawing first, then stops talking about things he wants, then eventually, stops wanting anything that fails to fit the shape of what is expected of him. Instead, he gets better at his studies because intelligence is useful, according to his parents. He learns how to be charming because charm, in the right situation, is a useful skill too. He also becomes beautiful, bored, and unobtainable, because, once again, those are useful.ย
Years pass, and the lesson follows him into adulthood. Girls come easy because he does not love any of them. Sex leaves him unfulfilled since it does not beg for any tenderness. Frat parties are a performance in which nobody at Sigma Chi bothers to learn anything real about him.ย
Satoru Gojo can be adored without ever being known, he can be wanted without being loved. He can fuck girls and feel nothing afterward, which is fine, preferable even, because feeling nothing has always been safer than feeling the thing he was taught he shouldnโt.ย
Oh, but thenโฆyou happen. You happen, and at first, he doesnโt recognize or understand it as love. Why would he? Love has never brought him anything good.ย
So when the feeling blooms within his chest, big and ugly and fucking impossible to ignore, he funnels it into the only concepts that make sense to him. Lust, possession, control. He thought, mine.ย
Mine, mine, mine.ย
The word feels similar enough to love when you have never been given anything softer to compare it to.ย
He never knew how to love you gently, so he loved you with the kind of desperation as someone trying to keep the last warm thing in a freezing house. With both hands, too tight, so afraid of losing you that he made himself into the very thing that pushed you away.ย
Then he loved youโactually loved you.ย
Too late, obviously. Badly, too, but truly. Truly enough that losing you cracked open the same sealed, repressed place in him where the desire to draw had been deeply buried.ย
Perhaps, thatโs the sickest thing of all. You did not only make him love again. You made him dream again.ย
Of course, his dreams stemmed out of greed first. He dreamed of making you his, keeping you, tying you to him so tightly that nothing could ever take you away. A dream of a future with you and a baby and a terribly confused idea of love. Twisted and poisoned by every lesson his family ever carved into him, but it was a dream nonetheless.
A dream of you and a family that is warm, human, and entirely his. And now look.
He loved drawing, and it was taken. He loved Emi, and she was taken. He loved you, and he lost you too.ย
Now, he sits here alone in his room at USC, twenty-one instead of nine, staring at a mediocre grade with sketches of your face half-hidden beneath his notebook, and the old wound splits open all over again; bleeding through every layer of him he thought has scarred over.
Maybe his parents were right. Maybe dreams really are for people with nothing expected of them and love is only for people who can afford feeling it in the first place.ย
Last time his grades slipped, they found the drawings and blamed Emi. This time, he already knows that they will find and blame you.
And the next morning comes quicker than Satoru wouldโve liked. He walks out of Sig Chi with his passport, one suitcase, one carry-on, and every ruined part of himself carefully zipped inside.ย
The car waiting outside is not one he called for, that alone is a bad sign. A Black Mercedes sits quietly at the curb, sent by his family of course, because even from across the Pacific Ocean, they can reach him and replace his choices with arrangements. His Porsche 911 GT3 stays parked where it is, useless, Carrara white, and too Westernized, while some Japanese driver in a dark suit takes his luggage from his hand like Satoru is already less of a person and more of an itinerary. It almost makes him laugh.ย
โVan Nuys, Gojo-sama?โ The driver asks.ย
Satoru looks out at the early morning light, glittering pale over Greek Row; dawn has just started to break, โYes.โ
The ride to the private airport is particularly silent, save for the low hum of the Maybach and the occasional tick of its turn signal. Los Angeles slips past in piecesโpalm trees swaying in the breeze, traffic despite the hour, glass buildings that look too perfect to be real, countless strip malls; ordinary life carrying on, stupid and indifferent, whilst Satoru sits in the backseat with his phone clutched in his hand and thumb hovering over the Canvas app like hopefully the Microeconomics grade has changed overnight out of pity.ย
Horribly, it hasnโt.ย
68%.
A stupid B fucking minus.ย
His stomach turns as he locks his phone and then unlocks it again almost immediately. How pathetic. He checks his messages, saddened to see that there is still nothing from you, yet why would there be? You left that corny-ass birthday night text on read, and honestly, you were right to. He should be grateful that you ever even acknowledged him that night at all, let alone left him with a gift and a kiss heโll forever remember.ย
Halfway to Van Nuys, his mother texts and whatever sorry shit he was thinking about you, vanishes.ย
mother: Lunch will be ready when you arrive. Your father and I have seen the transcript update.
Satoru reads it once. Then again. Then a third time because his brain refuses to process the words in the correct order. Of course there is nothing about having a safe flight or any lingering belated birthday affection or even a simple Oh, how are you, Satoru? Weโre so excited to see you. We missed you.ย
He could gag at the mere thought of either of them showing any sort of fondness, yeah as if. Thereโs a greater chance of hell freezing over. And as he sits there, stirring over the fact that his parents only give a fuck about the fact that heโs slipped, a painful sharpness pricks beneath his ribs.ย
Oh.
This again.
He has not felt it in years. He used to get them more when he was younger, before he learned how to turn fear and distress into arrogance and performance, swallowing every unwanted emotion down, but his body remembers it distinctly. His chest tightens first, like a hand closing slowly around his heart, causing him to shift in the leather seat and inhale deeply through his nose. Yet the air doesnโt go anywhere; it stays trapped.ย
He tries again, and still, nothing. His heart kicks once, hard enough that his hand twitches against his thigh, then again, then faster. Satoru looks out the window as if the highway requires his full attention, pretending that heโs not aware of every inch of his own body. Yeah, because thereโs totally no phone in his palm open with a text from his mother, or ultrasound in his wallet, or sketchbook in his carry-on; your eyes drawn over and over, shoved between pages like some dirty secret.ย
His lungs feel too small, which is stupidโobviously they aren't. He knows what breathing is, heโs actively doing it, his body is pulling air in considering heโs still alive. Though the air doesnโt land correctly despite it. His fingers start to tingle, he closes his hand into a fist, opening it almost as soon as does. The tingling has begun to spread anyway, crawling beneath his skin like static. His mouth goes dry, the road tilts strangely, only for a second, and his stomach lurches so hard that he has to swallow against it.ย
โEverything alright, Gojo-sama?โ The driver asks.
Satoruโs head snaps up too fast. For one horrifying moment, he thinks he might actually tell the truth; he may say no.
No, pull over.ย
I canโt breathe.ย
Take me back.ย
I donโt want to go home.
Iโm dying.ย
Instead, he gives him a smile through the rearview mirror, small, yet perfect as always, โYeahโฆFine.โย
The words leave him with ease, though his body knows heโs lying through his teeth. And by the time they reach the private terminal, his pulse is hammering in his throat. Van Nuys is too quiet, of course it fucking is. Thereโs no obnoxious crowds to blend into, no TSA lines, no screaming children, no gate agents mumbling out boarding groupsโno, being privileged and flying privately means that there are only the soft voices of people catering to him like heโs royalty rather than a kid on the verge of breaking down.ย
The jet waits beyond the glass windows and Satoru stares at it for exactly three seconds too long because the room bends on him. Although, to everyone else, he is probably still standing there like himselfโtall, pretty, expensive, faintly bored. But inside his skull, something there slips sideways. The edges of the airport lounge blur, sound pulls away from him, muffled and distant, as if everyone is speaking underwater.ย
His heart no longer is beating. Now, itโs punching. He presses a hand to the center of his chest on instinct. Shit. This is bad.ย
Bad, bad, bad.ย
Really fucking bad.
A staff member mentions something about departure time. Satoru doesnโt hear the middle of the sentence, he only catches his name at the end, โMr. Gojo?โ
โI need the bathroom,โ He says, urgent enough that the woman blinks and immediately, heโs moving.ย
Walking, not running, that would be way too embarrassing and he already feels mortified. He follows the discreet sign down a short hall and pushes through the bathroom door with one hand at his throat. The door shuts behind him and the moment heโs alone, the mask drops so abruptly it feels physical. His first breath comes in wrong, a thin, broken inhale that scrapes high in his chest and gives him nothing. He braces both hands on the marble sink and tries again, desperately.ย
Nothing. Again. Absolutely nothing.
โFuck,โ He whispers, eyes brimming with tears.ย
He bows his head, white strands falling forward, fingers spread against cold marble. His chest feels locked, sealed shut, like thereโs a band around his ribs and itโs pulling tighter with every breath he fails to take.ย
He canโt get enough fucking air.
One hand flies back to his chest, palm pressing firm over his heart as if he can somehow hold it in place. Itโs beating too fast, too loud; his entire body has gone hot and cold simultaneously, sweat gathering at the back of his neck while his hands numb.ย
He thinks, right then and there, that heโs having a heart attack. The years of abusing bullshit coke have finally caught up with him. But then he thinks, no. This is much more humiliating than that.ย
Panic attack.ย
Somehow, thatโs worse. Because he knows this. He knows this feeling, and itโs still happening; his knees threaten to give.
โNo,โ He grits out.
Hating himself for how pathetic it sounds he turns the faucet on full blast, water crashing into the sink, loud enough to cover the pitiful, uneven way heโs breathing. The act is out of muscle memory, maybe, or rather, childhood memory. Running water has always been useful for hiding things that should not be heard.ย
Satoru grips the sink again, inhales andโno. Another inhaleโฆNo.ย
No air gets through.ย
His reflection stares back at him from the mirror, pale under the luxurious lighting, blue eyes glassy, mouth parted, one hand still pressed to his chest like a boy who has forgotten how to function. Now, he hates himself even more.ย
He loathes that his body is doing this here of all places. In a bathroom nicer than most peopleโs apartments, minutes away from boarding his familyโs private jet, over stupid grades. But if heโs being honest it really is more than just the grades. Heโs panicking over his mother, over going home, over you, over the baby, and truly, over having a life so fucking privileged nobody would ever believe it could feel like a cage.ย
His vision starts to turn gray at the edges, he bends forward and gags once into the porcelain sink. Nothing comes up. Everything he does yields a whole lot of nothing, except shame.
โStopโฆโ He whispers, voice shaking with the word.
He forces his eyes shut, but behind them he sees the black trash bag and motherโs white sleeve. He sees Emi bowing in the hallway, then your initial at your throat where his chain used to be, the ultrasound in his back pocket, his motherโs text. He sees every horrible thing thatโs caused all the distress.
This time, the sound that escapes him is not a sob, though itโs close. Miraculously, the noise is uglier, smaller, a broken airless whine he barely can recognize as his own. He clamps a hand over his mouth and for a few seconds, Satoru canโt do anything but stand there with the faucet running and his mouth covered, trying to breathe around the fact that he has nowhere to put all of this. Thereโs no version of himself that is even allowed to carry such a thing.ย
His whole body jolts when a polite knock on the door snaps him back to reality, โMr. Gojo?โ A voice calls from the other side, โMy apologies for the interruption, but the crew is ready whenever you are.โ
If he could gather any air at all, heโd laugh at that. He has never once been ready for any of this. Catching another glimpse of himself in the mirror, he instantly notices that his eyes are wetโGod, fuckโฆno. I canโt be seen like this.ย
Doing his best to erase his almost-tears he turns the faucet colder and splashes water over his face twice, then once again until the shock of the temperature gives his body somewhere else to focus. His breathing is still shallow and fast, but itโs quieter, at least. Quiet enough to pass if nobody looks too closely at him.
Though, nobody ever does. Itโs both a blessing and curse.ย
Today, it is definitely the former.ย
Satoru dries his face with a hand towel so soft itโs insulting, then grips the edge of the sink one last time. He breathes inโฆout. His lungs hitch with each breath, but he straightens anyway. When he opens the bathroom door, his expression is back where it belongs. Pretty, cool, boredโthe Satoru Gojo everyone loves.ย
โSorry,โ He says to the attendant, voice smooth as silk, like the last five minutes were just a figment of his imagination, โHad a long night.โ
She smiles sweetly, relieved to have an explanation that costs her absolutely nothing to believe, โOf course, Mr. Gojo.โ
He walks past her toward the tarmac, one hand in his front pocket, fingers numb, heart trying to claw its way out of his chest. The jet waits, so does home, as does his family, and somewhere behind him, on a campus he is leaving for nearly a month, you are still gone.ย
Stepping up and inside the jet, it is exactly as he remembers it from August, before junior year and ever meeting you. Heโs met with cream leather seats, polished wood paneling, soft lighting, a glass of water already placed in his cup holder, condensation beading down the sides; a folded blanket rests on one of the seats, a warm towel is offered to him by a flight attendant who bows slightly and says his name like it means something special.ย
Gojo-sama.
The title follows him into the cabin and settles over his shoulders heavier than any jacket heโs ever worn. Here, now, that name is the only one that matters anymore.ย
Satoru thanks her in Japanese, taking the towel because refusing would require more energy than accepting, wipes hands that donโt feel entirely his, and sits near the window because that is where he always sits. Out of habit, mostly.ย
The door seals and his chest tightens again. Here we fucking go. He thinks, humiliatingly, that the whole thing is about to restart right there in the leather seat with two flight attendants and a pilot close enough to hear him fall apart. His hand curls around the armrest, fingers digging into the seam, and he forces himself to breathe through his nose.ย
Inโฆoutโฆthatโs it.ย
โWould you like anything before takeoff, Gojo-sama?โ The attendant asks.
A few lines, maybe. Or anything to take my fucking mind off works.ย
Oh, a different family too.
How about a version of myself that doesnโt ruin every good thing I touch?
He says none of his thoughts aloud, however, โNo, thank you.โ
She disappears, silent as a ghost, leaving him alone in the cabin with the sick luxury of being taken care of by people who donโt know him at all. That has always been the strangest part of wealth. The world will arrange itself around your comfort while never once asking if you are okay.ย
The plane begins to move, slowly at first, then faster, rolling over the private runway while Los Angeles remains beyond the oval window. Satoru watches it all blurโthe hangars, tarmac, low buildings, the dry California light peaking through morning clouds. His phone sits heavy in his pocket; his wallet sits heavier. His carry-on rests near his feet with the sketchbook inside it, buried beneath a folded USC hoodie like hiding it there makes him less insane.ย
He thinks of you somewhere across the city.ย
Maybe still asleep. Maybe awake. Maybe walking to get coffee with Blair. Maybe packing your stuff to go to Boston. Maybe already home. Probably wearing that little initial necklace and not thinking about him at all.ย
The jet lifts, his stomach drops as the ground falls away, and he watches as Los Angeles becomes small enough to hopefully forget. The city flattens into grids, roofs, and tiny threads of freeway; USC disappears almost instantly, swallowed by clouds and the kind of money that can remove him from a place before heโs ready to leave it.ย
Satoru presses his head back against the seat. He should sleep, he knows that. He barely slept last night or the nights before that, really, and the time difference is going to fuck him worse. He should close his eyes, drink water, possibly take one of the melatonin tablets his motherโs assistant packed in the side pocket because even his exhaustion is something they prepare for.ย
He closes his eyes and immediately, thereโs your face. Itโs not the full thing, no, that would be too much mercy for he who deserves none. He only sees your mouth in his car, lower lip parted against his. The soft, broken way you kissed him like you knew you shouldnโt, but did so anyway. Then your throatโthat dainty necklace, specifically.ย
His eyes shoot open; the cabin is primarily quiet, except for the sound of humming engines. His hand moves before he fully permits it to, reaching down to unzip the carry-on and pull out the sketchbook.ย
The sight of it in this cabin makes his stomach twist, because it doesnโt belong here. Or maybe it does. Heโs unsure of which heโd rather it be. The cover is plain leather, expensive in the way all his things are, but not obviously so. He had bought it off campus weeks ago without giving it much thought, back when the first sketch of your eyes had happened like an accident and not a relapse. In here, it feels like something illegal in his lap.ย
Ridiculous. A fucking sketchbook, and heโs holding it as if it may explode if he opens it incorrectly.ย
He flips it open anyway, and your eyes stare back at him on the first page. On the next page is your mouth, then your hands, and then it keeps going; the curve your cheek turned toward his passenger window, drawn directly from memory with a precision that makes him want to throw the fucking thing across the cabin.ย
There are pages he doesnโt even remember starting or finishing, pages from nights he doesnโt remember even survivingโyour neck, your lashes, the crease between your brows when you tried not to cry, the small pendant resting against your skin. His thumb pauses over that drawing.ย
He had hated that necklace the second he saw it. Well, no. He had hated what it meant.ย
It meant you had filled the space he left behind with yourself, that the hollow at your throat had not stayed empty and waiting for him like he wished it would be. You had, instead, found some symbolic way to say, I belong to me, and Satoru had no right to be angry about it, which of course, made the anger burn sharper. Now, looking at the sketch, he only feels tired.ย
Tired, and ashamed, and so fucking lonely that it feels childish.ย
He turns the pageโblank. For a while, he just stares at it as his pencil rests in his hand; the feeling of it there is so familiar it almost hurts more than the B-. His fingers remember things his mind spent years rejecting; the soft drag of graphite against paper, how to build something living out of lines.
He also tells himself that he will not draw you again. Heโs done with that. Heโs already drawn you too much, leaving behind a multitude of evidence, turning you into a thing his mother could find and name.ย
So when the pencil touches the paper, what he first draws is nothing recognizable. Itโs only a line, then another, then a curve of a wrist. Your wrist, perhaps. The way your fingers looked holding the mochi box on his birthday, careful and tense, like the act of giving a gift weighed more than it ever should. He draws the box next; the little fold of the packaging, followed by the angle of your thumb and a tiny shadow beneath your nail.ย
He fucking hates himself for remembering, yet he keeps going.ย
At some point, he puts his headphones in, and what would play other than The Neighbourhood?ย
A few weeks ago, he wouldโve skipped it so fast his thumb could crack the screen; avoiding them after you left because the songs made him think of you too clearly. Sweater Weather alone had been enough to ruin his whole damn night once, which was particularly embarrassing considering heโs supposed to be a grown-ass man and not some lovesick loser getting emotionally fucked by a song everyone knew in high school.ย
But then, somewhere between grief and heartbreak, the avoidance became something else. A ritual, of sorts.ย
He started listening to them because the songs reminded him of you. You used to play them whenever you slipped into his passenger seat at night, singing along to each and every word as he drove off. He would pretend not to notice, only to eventually learn the words from your mouth by kissing them out of you while one of their slow, miserable songs played through the speakers.ย
And after a while, the songs stopped feeling borrowed. He began recognizing the openings before the lyrics came in, started knowing which ones he likes more than others, and playing them when he wasnโt even trying to torture himself. Itโs still not usual shit, of course. Left to his own devices, Satoru Gojo listens to whatever is deemed cool to fit the imageโBass-heavy rap in the Porsche, house music at frat parties, anything loud and obnoxious enough to make his thoughts shut the hell up.ย
Heโd never even think to put some shit like The Neighbourhood on. Every song sounds like it was made for yearning after someone youโve lost and ruined. Though, maybe thatโs the point.
The Neighbourhood doesnโt feel like Sig Chi, or coke in bathrooms, or girls leaning into him while brothers shout his name. It feels like you, so much so that he can still feel your mouth smiling against his when he kissed you before the song could end.ย
So he lets it play, because it keeps you close in one of the only ways heโs still allowed to have you. And with your music in his ears, your face under his hand, and the Pacific stretching endlessly beneath him, Satoru allows himself to become fully, pathetically immersed in the act of missing you.
The plane climbs higher over the ocean, and Satoru draws you in pieces because a whole version of you would probably kill him. He tries convincing himself that it is only habit, but thatโs an awful lie. Itโs grief finding an old language. A language he had been forced to forget, and somehow, horribly, you had taught his hands to speak again.ย
One of the attendants comes by once with more water, fruit, some neatly arranged bento box he doesnโt touch. She glances at the sketchbook for half a second too long before kindly looking away. Satoru slams it shut with haste, though her face doesnโt change at all. She was trained better than that.ย
Still, heat licks up his neck, โWould you like me to clear this, Gojo-sama?โ She asks, gesturing to the untouched food.
โYeah,โ He answers, โThanks.โ
He waits until she disappears behind the partition before opening the sketchbook again, slower this time, pissed with himself for being startled. He feels nine years old again, like someone is about to take it from him. Like his motherโs white sleeve is going to appear between the seats and start tossing pages into a trash bag.ย
No one comes and the cabin remains as quiet as it was. Satoru looks down at the page and realizes then that he has drawn your eyes too soft. He considers fixing them, but doesnโt. Because that is how you looked at him in his car when you whispered that you missed him too.ย
Angry, yes. Hurt, definitely, but soft anyway.ย
That might be the part he doesnโt know to forgive you forโthe softness.
You had every right to be crueler. You could have looked at him like he was the worst thing in the world. Instead, you gave him his favorite mochi and kissed him and told him that you missed him, then still left because apparently you had managed to learn how to love someone without surrendering your spine.ย
He draws until his hand aches and Los Angeles is long gone. Until the version of Gojo who exists in California starts clipping off in pieces. His Dodgers cap is already packed away, the USC hoodie folded in his carry-on shoved beneath clothes he will not wear in Japan because heโd be chastised for it. His rings are off except for the single one his family approves of. His hair has been pushed back more neatly, though he knows he will fix it properly before landing.ย ย
The boy from California, the one who can get drunk and stupid high in a frat house, making entire rooms chant his name, is being stripped away slowly by altitude and distance.ย
And hours later, when they begin their final descent, Satoru has stopped pretending heโs not afraid.ย
The captain announces Tokyo in a voice too calm for how he feels inside. The cabin lights shift, attendants preparing for landing. Outside the window, clouds break apart, and Japan appears beneath him in gray-blue stretches of land and sea.ย
Satoru stares at the sketchbook still open in his lap, your face stares backโunfinished, because he can never find it in himself to complete it.ย
He looks at it for a long moment, then closes the cover with a carefulness he cannot explain. His hands move before his pride can stop them, sliding the sketchbook into his carry-on, but then he hesitates. The front pocket is too obvious of a placement, the top of the bag is too easily accessible. He unzips the larger compartment and shoves it beneath folded clothes, though that is still not enough. He takes out a dark jacket, lays it over the sketchbook, then presses the whole thing down like heโs burying a body.
Itโs dumb, really. Heโs a twenty-one year old man now, not a little boy. Yet, he canโt stop himself from acting like one.ย
By the time the jet touches down at Haneda, your face is hidden underneath two shirts and a jacket, shielded away like the prettiest contraband to grace earth. Satoru sits back, jaw tight, and peeks out the window as the runway rushes past.ย
Tokyo receives him how it normally does, without ceremony. It never needs to make a spectacle of taking him back like California does.ย
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โก โหโง RUIN YOURSELF :: clanhead!satoru x wife!reader
๊ฐ gojo satoru didn't love, he lusted. that's what the rumours said. and blissful, innocent you assumed better of your husband to be. arranged to marryโ or perhaps doomed? your dream come true turned nightmare once you realise that your new husband; man of your dreams, despises you. and worse, that you'll do anything for his affection. including ruining your own innocence in a desperate endeavour for his attention in the only way you know how. . . lust. ๊ฑ
โก โหโง WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING :: serial killer!satoru x prosecutor!reader
๊ฐ you're one of japan's best and most notorious prosecutors. but when you meet your match, how do you handle looking straight into a morbid mirror? when an old flame lights the courtroomโ and you're met with the man you haven't forgotten since law school. now sat in the defendant's chair with an infuriatingly charming smirk to woe the jury and a new title to terrify them: the reaper's successor. ๊ฑ
โก โหโง GUYS MY AGE :: older ceo!satoru x college girl!reader
๊ฐ when the new, pretty intern stepped foot into his company, the last thing he expected was a rivalry with a college girl, of all things. ๊ฑ
โก โหโง HELD IN WINTER'S WAKE :: defected!satoru x sorcerer!reader
๊ฐ death was the only way to escape the jujutsu world. rundown by the world of which you dedicated your life to, you search for rest. but your trip to the snowy japanese mountains takes a cold turn when a blizzard knocks your car off course. cold and injured, you accept your fate. until a rigid stranger drags you from the snow and tells you with dry finality that you won't leave until the storm passes. he won't tell you his name nor why the barrier around his humble cabin is as strong as it is. but the snow only melts away to reveal one truth: the man who saved you is supposed to be dead. ๊ฑ
โก โหโง CRAWLING BACK TO YOU :: toxic fwb!satoru x reader
๊ฐ it's always a push & pull with you and him. one moment you hate him the next you โ no, you could never love satoru gojo. you loved his touch, loved his dick, but not him. on the flip side, satoru can't seem to let you go. ๊ฑ
โ โหโง ALWAYS MY STRONGEST :: wife!reader
๊ฐ everyone expected him to win. you didn't think you'd be standing here. ๊ฑ
โก โหโง LAPLACE'S DEMON :: nerdjo x mean girl!reader
๊ฐ you thought you knew what a nerd was, after pissing one off you quickly learnt ๊ฑ
โง โหโง HOW CAN YOU NOT WANT ME? :: yandere!satoru
๊ฐ when the strongest falls for you but can't have you, how does he react? after getting everything he wants in life; how aren't you in his hands yet? ๊ฑ
๐ฉ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ : satoru gojo x female reader.
๐ ๐๐ง๐ซ๐: smut. angst. hints of fluff. college au.
๐ญ๐๐ ๐ฌ/๐ฐ๐๐ซ๐ง๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฌ: frat gojo x reader. heavy nsfw content. possessive/obsessive tendencies. toxic relationship dynamics. emotional manipulation. jealousy. huge breeding kink. contraceptive failure. accidental pregnancy. use of alcohol. drug use. frat culture. violence/blood. discussions of abortion. explicit language. dark romance. readerโs dad is basically tom brady lmao
๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ข๐ฌ: the hottest frat boy at the university of southern california, satoru gojo, becomes obsessed with you and develops a kink he was never supposed to haveโone reckless enough to change both of your lives forever.
Synopsis . You're best friend's with both your favorite emo fratboy and the campus plug. So when you make an offhand comment while under the influence one night that no guy has ever made you cum, he takes it upon himself to challenge that. (nonnie req)
Pairing . fratboy plug!choso x slightly-bimbo!reader / Content . afab!reader, oral sex, dirty talk, spitting, squirting, he has a tongue piercing, pussy slapping, high sex, 69 position, cumming without realizing it, munch activities (yk how choso is), heโs a lil cocky, first time squirting, finger fucking, shotgun kiss, he talks you to filth, slight manhandling, throat fucking, head pushing, heavy praise, etc. / wc . 8.9k
A/N: God, I love writing my manโhope you lovelies enjoy!! Really sorry for errors, if any!! Banner from "Hachisuka's Family Kotoribako" (Kinktober Masterlist.) [MDNI]
โThis guy is following me, pretend to be my boyfriend.โ
โWhaโโ
A pair of arms are wrapping around his neck before he has time to react properly and the rush of something sweet wafts up into his nose. A careful hand, decorated with ring after ring and adorned with black polish across the nails, comes to the right side of your waist to pull you in close.
Chosoโs rich and definitely intoxicated brown eyes mull over the faces of the people around him, spotting Gojo and Getoโhis friendsโnot too far away from him, and a bunch of other partygoers.
He doesnโt ask you any more questionsโdespite how youโre some random chick who came clinging onto himโas his eyes soon land on the guy whoโd clearly been following you.
โEw, Naoyaโฆโ He spits out, his face twisting up into a nasty scowl of pure disgust as the residential misogynist comes walking toward the two of you. โDonโt tell me heโs the asshole bothering you?โ Choso whispers questioningly.
Your face is all buried into his neck and he could feel your arms tightening around him as you mumbled a gentle, โMhm, he is.โ
Greatโฆ
Because who in their right mind would want to deal with Naoya on a Saturday night? The guy gets kicked out of every frat house party thatโs ever been held โcause of shit like this. All he does is harass and insult women, only to be eventually approached by one of the many frat brothers and get kicked out moments later.
Seems like this week itโs Chosoโs turn to handle him. Which is just wonderful, really.
โYo,โ Choso calls out to the fully approached Naoya, whose mere presence makes him feel nauseated. โThe fuck do you want with my girl?โ
Now, youโve never spoken to Choso before this but, the sound of him calling you his girl has your heart feeling all warm insideโeven though heโs only said that because youโd asked him to play along.ย
The scent of his cologne mixing with the thick musk of weed fills your nose as your face smushes up into his chest. You only know the man through the rumors youโve heard and the few times youโve seen him around these parties you keep attending. As you readjust your chin to look up at his expression, you think your arms unconsciously hold onto him a little tighter the moment you spot the vein peeking out against his jawline.
Everyone hates Naoya, thatโs an irrefutable fact. But, something about how annoyed Choso was looking at him right now had you pulling your lower lip into your mouth.
Naoya lets off a scoff, his voice all loud and annoying, โThis dumb bitch is your girl?โ He asks.ย
Every syllable that left his mouth is grating to all listening ears. Ugh, he was such a nuisanceโฆ
You merely glance back at the guy for a second and notice the look in his eyes that clearly says heโs not buying this shit. Chosoโcatching the same thing that you doโslips one of his hands downwards to the small of your back, not daring to go any lower just yet, and then eases you even closer.
โFirst off, watch your fuckinโ mouth,โ He scoffs out, jaded eyes dragging up and down Naoyaโs frame as he wonders how long it would take to knock him onto his ass. โSecondly, yeah, weโre together. What do you want?โ
โThat slut owes me money,โ Naoya curses with tightly crossed arms, his gaze fixated entirely on you as if Choso werenโt even there. Though, heโs not really looking to get kicked out of this party just yet and heโs trying his best to avoid physical confrontation.
Cocking a brow, the brunet smoothes out a low huff that smells of the recently consumed marijuana he's inebriated under before redirecting his slightly glossed eyes down to you, โThis isnโt what I think it is, is it, baby?โ
Youโre quickly distracted by the pet name that so easily rolled off of his tongue but without getting too wrapped up in it, you blink. โHuh?โ
Choso slowly tilts his head to the side and cracks a knowing grin, โYouโve been seeinโ other dealers? Donโt you know Iโm the best on campus?โ
Gulping, โWell, Iโโ
โSโokay,โ He cuts off to ease the concern and worry trying to paint itself into your features. โWeโll get back to that in a secโ,โ Then he gestures his head over to Naoya, gives your waist a little squeeze, and says, โLemme handle this guy for you first.โย
Choso carefully moves you to the side and steps toward Naoya, whoโs arguably a bit taller than him. He sizes him up again and bites back his scoff, replacing it with a tiresome sigh that he doesnโt even try to play off as anything else outside of what it isโan honest gesture of displeasure.
Voice lazy, โHow much does she owe you, man?โ Choso asks with one hand already fishing through the pocket of his pants for his wallet.
It really didnโt matter what number was thrown out to him, he was gonna fling whatever bit of cash he had on him toward Naoya to get him to fuck off. The only thing good about his presence right now was the fact that it brought you along, which is something Choso would like to return to as swiftly as possible.
โTch,โ Naoya chuffs, trying to glance behind him to get another scowling look at you before he says, โAs if you have enough toโโ
โJusโ give me the number before I get you kicked out again,โ Choso cuts off cleanly with a gaze that bores into the manโs skull.
One beat of silence passes by as Naoya contemplates a few things in his mind, wondering whether or not he really wants to test his luck with this.ย
Ultimately, he ends up caving with a roll of his eyes, โFineโฆโ Then he gives him the number of which you owe and heโs literally smacked in the face with a random wad of cash as if he were some kindaโ cheap whore to be dealt with.
โThere,โ Choso spat, โNow donโt let me catch you trying to sell my girl your overpriced bullshit again, yeah?โ Technically, he had no right to tell someone else not to sell drugs to you when he didnโt even know you.
But, one look at your face and he was certain heโd want you coming to him for weed and not anyone else after this. Especially when going to someone else landed you in this situation where youโre being followed around parties for paymentโChoso would never do such a thing. Heโd offer alternatives before even thinking to harass you like that.
Naoya was immediately enraged by how heโs being dismissed but itโs not like he could express that since there were one too many fraternity members in the area for him to do so without instantly getting escorted out. Thus, he settles for shuffling up the cash thatโd fallen onto the floorโsnatching each bill from beneath the feet of partygoersโand keeps his curses in a lowered whisper thatโd never be heard under the blaring music.
Then, as if nothing ever happened, the surrounding people return to their dancing and Naoya seems to disappear somewhere into the crowd shortly after.
Which leaves you standing in place with slightly widened eyes whilst Choso turns around to look at you, brushing his hands off like heโd just dealt with some type of dirt or something.
โYou alright?โ He asks, taking a step closer toward you. The music is loud so itโs hard for you to really hear him, hence why he leans his ear down to your lips so he can gather your response properly.
You nod at first and then the words follow, โUhm, yeah. I wasnโt expecting you to pay that off for me but, thank you, Choso.โ
Shifting over to talk into your ear now, โDonโt sweat it, princess. But uh,โ He clicks his tongue before darting it out to swipe over his lower, pierced lip. โI meant what I said before. You shouldโve been dealinโ with me, not that idiot.โ
โOh,โ You chirp.
Then he pulls away and the two of you are able to take one another in properly for the first time.
Under the changing LED lightsโwhich are currently a mix of purple and redโboth of your faces are dimly illuminated. Chosoโs eyes openly scan over every detail of your expression, watching the cute curl in your lips as you slowly smile at him.
Oh, youโre gorgeous.ย
What are the odds that a pretty girl like you literally comes running into his arms at a party like this? And then this dress you have onโฆ Choso doesnโt exactly mean to glance down but when he does, he notices the way the fabric simply hugs your body, shaping you in all the right places and more.
He gulps, a sound that wouldโve been rather loud if not for the vibrating base of music against the surrounding frat house walls. His eyes flick back up to your face and youโre shamelessly staring at his lips, then your gaze lifts to his nose, then to the right side of his face; right at his cheekbone for some reason? After, youโre looking at the tattoo running across the bridge of his nose andโ
Ohhh, Choso was so distracted with checking you out that he almost forgot how many body modifications he has. He gets these kinda stares all the time but for a second heโd lost his entire train of thought. Thereโs the ring on the left side of his lower lip, his anti-brow piercing on the right half of his face, the small one on the left side of his nose with a very obvious tattoo running across the bridge, and then the multitude of piercings all over his ears.
Makesโ sense why you were staring now. Youโve got this clueless little look in your eyes and itโs kinda cuteโ
โHow much do you charge?โ Youโre asking, ending his thoughts entirely.ย
The word, โFree,โ blurts out of him before he even realizes it and itโs not until he sees the way you start giggling that he realizes what heโd just said. Shaking his head, and backtracking, โWait-, no. I donโt do anything for free, sorry. If anything,โ Choso leans back and slides his hands down into his pockets, โYou actually owe me now.โ
Your eyes shoot wide open, โOwe you for what?!โ youโre huffing as you wonder how the hell you keep finding yourself in someoneโs debt like this.
โHm, I dunno. Paying Naoya off for you?โ He says with this sly grin stretching across his face. โBut donโt worry, you jusโ owe me a promise.โย
You lift a skeptical brow at him and watch his pinky finger lift out for you to attach your own to in the most clichรฉ way possible. Looking down at his finger, then back up into his eyes, โWhat kinda promise?โ
โGottaโ promise youโll come to me for your weed instead of that moron, Iโve got better prices and better strains. None of that baby shit he was scamminโ you with, trust me.โ Choso offers with his pinky still outstretched. Youโre slow to intertwine your finger with his and he uses the connection to pull you closer, โI need to hear you say it too.โ
You almost start stuttering with the way heโd jerked your body closer just to say that all lowly to you. โI promise Iโll come to you instead of Naoya from now on,โ You respond with a dramatic emphasis on your words, fighting the blooming feeling in the pit of your stomach that spurs when he smiles at you as if he were proud or something.
And thatโs roughly how the two of you met and became acquainted with one another. A couple minutes of fake-dating, one pinky promise, and a โcomplimentaryโ joint to start you off later and the two of you were practically best buds!
โโ
Well, not exactly best buds but you and him do get really close after that little party and encounter.
You stay true to the promise youโd made with him and only ever deal with him from then on. Choso was entirely honest with you that night so, everything heโd said turned out to be more than true. The shit you used to get from Naoya was nothing compared to what you were constantly high off of now, and it was cheaper.
Though, sometimes you did seduce your way into convincing Choso to give you an even lower discountโฆ.
One slightly revealing top was usually all it took for him to snag off a couple dollars for youโamongst other things. Like the cute ass smile you flash his way whenever youโre geeked out of your mind, yapping on and on about fuck knows what until the words leaving you no longer make sense. Yeah, Choso loves that.ย
Oh, and the tasty gloss you typically coat your lips with.ย
Heโs not some kinda weirdo so he definitely hasnโt had anyโฆ lustful thoughts about said gloss but, he canโt exactly avoid getting a taste of it whenever the two of you are cycling a blunt back and forth and bits of it are left clinging to the wrap.
Outside of just smoking his weed and becoming his favorite customer, you also become someone he likes to keep by his side and talk to from time to time. The best discounts from him come after a good smoke sesh that he usually has to beg you to stick around for.
During those, the two of you end up talking each otherโs ears off until it really comes time for you to go.ย
Slowly but surely, the two of you are spotted together more often than either of you cared to be, and dating rumors shuffle about. Theyโre quickly shut down after a couple of parties where youโre spotted letting some other random guy kiss on you but, a certain two individuals try their best to keep it alive.
The individuals in question are none other than Chosoโs closest frat brothers: Gojo and Geto. Those idiots were fully convinced that poor Choso never got any play until he met you, and now theyโre both convinced heโs your loser boyfriend.
Youโre pretty sure they only act like that because theyโre jealous youโre probably getting free weed from the guy while theyโre not.
Little do they know, their perception of your relationship with Choso couldnโt have been further from the truth. He was definitely getting play, he was just quiet about it since heโs the kinda guy you wouldnโt even realize slept around unless he wanted you to realize it. And as for you, youโre the one who ends up feeling like a loser after a while seeing as every guy you hook up fails to make you cum.
So much so that you were starting to believe there was actually something wrong with you.ย
This all leads to now, as you enter Chosoโs dorm room for the nth time this week to, hopefully, get high enough to distract you from that little orgasmic issue of yours.
As soon as you enter the dorm, your mood is killed immediately.
Sitting in the living room laughing loud as hell, is Gojo and Geto. Both of their heads turn in sync as you walk in, trying to quickly pocket the spare key Choso had made for you some time agoโhaving mentioned something about being too lazy to open the door for you all the timeโand hoping that the two men will leave you-
โLook whoโs here to see her man, awww,โ Gojo coos before you can even try to ignore him.
Then Geto follows that up with a cunning, โShouldโ warn you though, your boyfriendโs high as a kite in there.โ
Trying not to let their annoying-ass taunting get to you, you settle for a sigh of, โWhen is he not?โ before turning the corner and b-lining towards Chosoโs room.
There are some more childish snickers and comments made about you from the two men but you pay no mind to it this time.
Pushing the desired door open, youโre immediately met with a thick heat of smoky air and a completely fogged room. The sound of a towel brushing against the floor as you push the door open makes you look down and you quickly realize heโd been hotboxing all by himself.
โWithout me, seriously?โ You hum with no malice behind your words as you slip past the door and shut it behind you, using your foot to nudge the towel back into place and then letting your eyes scan Chosoโs slightly cluttered room.
The man is lying across his bed, dark hair hanging off its edge with the way he splayed out upside down and pinched a rather fat blunt in between the thick of his thumb and index. โYou were takinโ too long,โ Choso drawls.
And god, you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was barely even with you right now. He always had a pretty mellow way of speaking but when he was really high, his voice would drop an octave or twoโwords crawling off of his tongue all sleazily and heavy with each syllable.
โYโknow Iโll make it up to you though, here,โ He adds on seconds later before you get the chance to settle into his room.
That strong earthy scent coated the entirety of his room as you walked over to the edge of his bed and looked down at him, noticing the jaded reds and pinks coating the typically white portion of his eyes as he batted them up at you. Heโs got some low melodies playing from some corner and it only adds to the ambience of the space. Then, his arm extends and heโs offering you the cause of his fumed room.
Humming, โThank you,โ whilst plucking the joint out of his hands, your nails just barely graze his skin. Choso eyes the way you bring it up to your mouth and clasp it lightly in between your lips, leaning down to him and nodding your chin towards the lighter in his other hand.ย
He catches your gesture and hoists it up to spark the blunt for you, hand cupping the air around as he filters through a couple stubborn flicks before a flame adorns the prerollโs end. Chosoโs eyelids are weighted even as he watches you draw in a steady breath to capture the itemโs contents into your systemโquickly moving your hand to the joint afterwards to pry it from your lips and exhale slowly.
Another hum, this time one of approval, ghosts past your lips along with the fumes youโd just let escape you. โYou look tired,โ You comment while pulling away.
As you move around his room to plop your back down somewhere and get comfortable, your plug merely mumbles an easy, โMโnot.โ in response to you.
You shoot him over a look he doesnโt quite see, โIf you fall asleep on me like you did last time, Iโm leaving.โ
โYou better keep me awake then, no?โ Choso chimes with one lazy smirk making the corner of his lips twitch.
Cocking a brow now, โAnd how am I supposed to do that?โ you ask.
You then relax down into the chair in front of his desk of scattered papers and unfinished assignments, dragging it over to the side of his bed so that youโre close enough to pass the blunt back and forth.ย
He lifts his head adequately to glance over at where youโre sitting and then offers you a shrug as his hand goes out, โI dunno, you tell me, baby.โ
In the midst of taking another long hit and after passing it off to him, you meet his expectant gaze with a certain look, โCho.โ
โWhat?โ He scoffs immediately. Then heโs sitting up and reaching over to pluck the blunt out of your hand and bring it to his lips, mumbling, โI call everyone thatโฆโ
He knew you didnโt care much for the pet name, even though heโs been calling you that ever since the two of you met. You told him about how much you hated the way it fueled the dating rumors and made it harder to get Gojo and Geto shut up. But, when your eyes roll in reaction to what he just said, he lets off a soft whir.
โMh, you didnโt like that, huh?โ Choso asks you in between several back-to-back hits that youโd normally scold him about. The brown of his eyes glide over your frame and then zero in steadily on the way your lips are moving as you speak.
โWhat?โ You huff, โNo, I donโt care if you call everyone baby.โ A lie, it did bother something deep down inside of you. โI-If anything thatโs a good thing.โ You suggest.
To which he extends his hand out to you again, letting a single brow arch up, โYeah?โ
โMhm,โ Youโre humming. Though, the sound definitely seems like youโre trying to convince yourself hereโฆ
The conversation dies out there for a moment longer than either of you care for and it doesnโt go unnoticed, even as the two of you cycle the blunt back and forth until itโs about halfway smoked through.
While you try to relax in the uncomfortable silence thatโs stretching itself out in between the two of you, your mind is unfortunately drifting back to your sexual issue. The weed is supposed to keep your mind at bay and help you relax and yet, today it decided to do everything but that. Instead, your head is very much wracked with annoying flashbacks of the recent times in which youโve been faking your orgasms for the second-rate men youโve been sleeping with.
Itโs not that these thoughts are completely unwelcome but, youโd rather not have them now while youโre busy smoking with Choso. And it really doesnโt help that heโs not being his usual talkative self right noโ
โYouโre quiet today,โ Choso breaks the silence all of a sudden and the sound of his deepened voice is almost enough to make you flinch. It was like heโd read your mind or something just nowโฆย
Spooky.
Youโre slumped back against the chair and staring up at the thickly clouded ceiling, โThink so?โ
Choso nods before he speaks. โYeah, whatโs up?โ He asks, eyes still watching you as if he were studying your every little move amid the haze, โTalk to me, princess.โ
While your stoned brain decides to focus on your lack of orgasms, his mind is unable to drift away from you and the way you look sitting in his bedroom right now. This isnโt too unusual for him since weed does tend to help his focus but, normally itโs not on you as much as it is today.
Perhaps that was because of your weird silence. You hadn't even complained about anything yet, which was enough to tell him that something was wrong.
Before you speak, the question rings around your head for a few seconds. Choso has a handful of pet names he uses on people and you know that but, youโre not quite sure if he says that last one to just anybody.
Hence why a delicate, โ...Do you call everyone that too?โ streams past the gloss of your lips.
โNah,โ Choso answers immediately as if heโd been watching the words walk right out of you. Then he tilts his head, โJust you.โ
At that, you visibly tense up a little. You hated sessions like this with him. When the quiet got too loud that the mostly dormant emotions began to bloom around you. The warmth you feel flash over your face and cling at your heartstrings is definitely not from the weed but, you try to ignore it.
Heโs been like this a couple times in the past. While he does get sleepy after a long smoke sesh, he also tends to get uncharacteristically direct and soft with you. You remember how one time he went on this looong rant about how pretty you were. But, before you could reply to any of it, he dozed off while mumbling about how he hoped to see you in his dreams that night.
Anytime you bring this up now, he tells you none of that ever happens and that heโd definitely remember doing so but, he doesnโt.
โYou gettinโ shy on me now?โ Choso asks abruptly, to which you lift your head and look at him. Heโs sitting all the way up now, rolling a few more jointsโas if he needs toโand then glancing to you again, โI said talk to me, whatโs on your mind?โ
Your gaze fixates on how careful his thumbs are with the jointโs edges, smoothing over them with the rolling, and only ever taking his eyes off of you to focus on what heโs doing before slipping his tongue out to lick it.ย
A short, โEverythingโฆโ comes out of you in a manner so cliche that it makes him snort.
The unpierced side of his lips quirk up now that heโs half-smiling, โPfft, okayโฆ Well, whatโs been going on with you lately? Youโre beinโ dry as hell with me right now.โ He points out.
You pout a bit and take your eyes away from him, โI dunno. Iโฆ Itโs stupid.โ
Choso rolls his eyes at you, โDonโt you start that shit,โ He warns. You know he doesnโt like when you beat around the bush but how the hell are you supposed to tell him that youโre quiet today because youโre sexually frustrated? Heโs your dealer, not-, โWeโre friends, arenโt we?โ He asks, interjecting your thoughts directly before shrugging, โJust talk, girl.โ
You scoff a simple, โYouโre so annoyingโฆโ that trails off into another long beat of silence, the only sound coming from his softly moving fingers and the way you take a few more hits of the preroll still in your hands, hoping to gain enough confidence to blurt it out. Then, after a few more carefully thought-out seconds, โ...I think somethingโs wrong with me.โ You manage.
โSeemโ perfect to me,โ Choso blurts out, clearly not thinking twice about the words that just fell off his tongue.
โI-,โ You pause to digest the sudden compliment, brushing it off with a chuckle, โI meant my body, Cho,โ To which he mutters the same thing and you pretend not to hear it this time as you say, โI dunno if maybe itโs the stuff Iโve been smoking lately butโฆ.โ
Some more stillness flies by and this time he seems to be fed up with it.
โBut what? Donโt edge me here.โ He demands.
The light buzz in your mind serves as a coaxing feeling that helps you finally breathe out, โI canโt cum.โย
You donโt get much of a reaction from him at first. If anything, he looks confused as he cocks an almost innocently puzzled brow, โHuh? Canโt come to what?โ
โNo, not-,โ His literal interpretation of your words ends up making you giggle. Then you sigh, โI meant that I canโt orgasm, Choso.โ
โWhat?โ He questions dumbfoundedly.
โPlease donโt make me repeat thatโฆโ You mumble.
โNo, seriously, what?โ Choso repeats, looking now as if you have three as he puts everything down and turns his head your direction, โYouโre not gettinโ fucked right?โ
Caught off completely guard, โJesus. That's not even what I saidโโ
โBut thatโs what that means, right?โ He interrupts, waiting for you to meet eyes with him again, โUnless youโre trying to tell me you seriously canโt make yourself cum.โ
Itโs slow but, you finally manage to look at him, โI canโฆโ
Nodding, โExactly so, that means youโre out there receiving mediocre shit instead of coming to meโฆ again.โ
If you werenโt caught off guard before, you damn sure are now. So much so that you cough in between your next hit, the smoke choking up in your lungs with a slight burn as your zen is thrown off. โH-Huh?โ You unintentionally stammer.
Even with your eyes on one another now, he can tell youโre nervous just from talking about this. Smoking was not the cause of that flush in your cheeks and he knows it. Something else definitely had you hot right now.
Chosoโs eyes flick up and down your seated frame long enough to see the way your thighs shift against the seat. Instantly, his tone gets sly, โWhat, you think Iโm only good for weed?โ
Your lashes bat, โWell, n-no, butโฆโ
โCโmere,โ He cuts off, having lifted a hand to beckon you over with two generously ringed fingers.
Your scoff is instant, โChoso, respectfully, I donโt think-โ
โMโnot askinโ you to think,โ He smiles, fingers still waving, โIโm askinโ you to come over here.โ
It takes you a bit to digest his words before your body gets to moving and when you haul yourself off the chair, you move to plop down on his bed. Sitting right next to him now, Choso leans over a little and his arm slides somewhere behind you. His hand ends up just a few inches away from your ass, his fingers splaying out against his comforter whilst his head weighs to the side.
His body is hot next to yours. So hot you could practically feel the heat oozing off his frame. And the peering look in his eyes wasnโt making it any better eitherโฆ
โHow many times have I told you Iโm here for whatever you need, huh?โ Choso whispers, the lowness of his voice causing your hips to twitch a little.
Heโs all focused on you again, even more so now than he had been earlier, and it was almost as though you could feel him everywhere without him even touching you yet. Perhaps it was the cannabis in the air and the way it swirled throughout your system but, all your sensations felt heightened now.
Pulling your head away from him to gain some distance back, โPlenty of times, but..โ Your shoulders slump a little, โThis is different, Choso.โ
His gaze falls down your body and something husky and wanting sneaks its way into his words now, โHow? You think I canโt make you cum?โ
God, every time he opened his mouth you felt as though you were losing your mind. And the audacity he had to be so bold with his words on top of that was making it perpetually worse by the minute.
โN-No,โ You huff as your head turns back to him and youโre heard gulping thickly at his focus on your mouth. โIโm not saying that butโฆโ You pull your lower lip in between your teeth for a moment to chew while you think. Then, you sigh again, โWell, maybe I am saying thatโฆ I just thinkโโ
โI told you to stop doinโ that,โ Choso murmurs, arm snaking around your body so that his hand could land on your hip. He gives you a little pull and almost sounds needy as he utters a husky, โCโmere.โ
โIโm rightโโ
โCloser, baby.โ Choso cuts off, finally tugging you closer so that the side of your thigh brushes up against his. He then takes his other hand and brings it up to your jaw, drawing your face way too close to his. You could smell the viscous scent of weed on his tongue as he spoke given the lack of distance between you both, his eyes never straying away from the soft, soft curve of your lips, โNow, jusโ tell me if you want me to make you cum or not and I got you.โ
Your top set of lashes meets your lower ones in slow-motioned blinks as breathing properly grows increasingly difficult, โItโs not that simpleโฆโ
The manโs grasp on your chin grows a little tighter, โIt really is.โ
You roll your eyes again โLiterally no guy has made me-โ
โDo I seem like every other guy youโve been with?โ Choso scoffs, as if he were actually ticked off now. Then he forces your head some more up so that your gaze is meeting his and, fuck. The look in his eyes did something. Looking at you all commanding and desiring like you were the only thing that ever mattered in his life, โDo you want my help or not?โ he whispers one last time.
Of course you wanted his help, even though you had your doubts about receiving it. You werenโt sure what would be so different with him.ย
Even so, youโre slow to give him a nod of your head and grumble a cute, โYeah,โ that has him swallowing down a groan.
Then heโs weighing forward and you barely get to fully shut your eyes before his lips smooth over yours. Catching your hesitance, you feel his thumb slip upwards as he talks into your mouth, โDonโt be shy, open up fโme, baby.โ
At the sound of that, your lips get to parting over his and his tongue immediately slides right in. Both of your heads tilt off in opposite directions and heโs the first to let out a string of sounds. It starts out with a grunt when you pull back half a centimeter just to slip down and clasp his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling softly.
When you give it an adorable tug and then press forward into the kiss, thatโs when he starts groaning.ย
Chosoโs got no idea how any guy couldโve gotten their hands on all this and then decided not to make sure youโre squirting by the end of the night. He supposes he can thank all those guys now though, seeing as youโre swiftly moving forward with this kiss.
Yeah, it starts out slow and a little sloppy but while your tongues are mingling with one anotherโs and sharing the prominent taste of marijuana, youโre getting eager for more and throwing a leg over him.
Youโre properly sitting in his lap before he realizes it. And the only reason Choso acknowledges it at all is because he feels a rush of heat spark from in between his legs as something rubs over the previously dormant tent in his sweats. He canโt even pull away from your mouth to say anything because heโs far too distracted by the gorgeous moan you sink past his lips.
Oh, heโs lost it.
Chosoโs hands grab at your waist suddenly and then squeeze hard enough for you to acknowledge his touch before he smoothes downwards to your hips and pushes your body lower so that youโre flush with him. โMmph,โ bursts past his parted lips in the middle of his suckling your tongue deeper into his mouth.ย
The man is all but swallowing up the sweetness against your mouth, quickly growing addicted to it. Weed could never compare to the tasteโa fact of which heโs sure about now. As his tongue soon goes diving down the center of yours, you feel the surprising bud of a snake eye piercing decorating its tip.
Thatโs when one of your hands moves in between your bodies and sneaks under his shirt as you gasp out his name and then pull away.
His lips chase yours as you draw distance and then he hauls your entire body impossibly closer to his, your chest smushed up against him now. In doing so, you roll your hips forward against his naturally and hear the way his breath hitches. Then you feel something.
Poking-, no, jumping up against your clothed cunt in between the many, many layers between the two of you is the thickness of his bulge. And with it comes another wave of sloppy kisses.
Chosoโs hands are everywhere against you now, literally.ย
Something in you seems to snap at the feeling of his cock growing under you and right after you let yourself gasp at the sheer size of it one more time, the hands you had on his chest manage to recline him back against his bed.
Choso hits the mattress with a soft huff of previously lost air and his brows twist up to flash something needy at you. โFuck,โ Scratches out of his throat whilst he stares at the way you look on top of him.
So prettyโฆ
Thereโs a single string of shared saliva dribbling out of the corner of your mouth and he almost moans as you start leaning down to him again, his arms moving so that he could wrap them around you. Then your lips meet again and this time it isnโt even sloppy, just hungry.
The sound is loud, louder than any kiss youโve had lately, and noisy enough to earn a couple of smiles from him in between all the kissing. Breathing into your mouth, โYou shouldnโt have told me that shit,โ Choso sears as one of his hands comes up to the back of your head, the other at your neck now. โCanโt even calm myself downโฆโ
Followed by his not-so-gentle admission is another heavy pulse from his fully erect cock.ย
You manage to pluck yourself away from his mouth long enough to say, โI donโt see why,โ Then you snort cockily, โSโnot like youโve changed my track record.โ
โYet,โ Choso quickly corrects. And before you can add another snarky comment in response, โBut thatโs alright, Iโm about to.โ He claims, tipping his head back to relax as his hands fall away from your body completely, โCome get up here.โ
You blink, โHuh? Upโฆโ Searching his frame as if you werenโt already on top of him, your brows tweeze together, โ...where?โ
Even with the poking of his dick, he takes this moment to gather himself and reach over to swipe up the blunt you were last smoking. Then he shuffles for a lighter and sparks it up again, taking a hit and returning his attention to you as if the little intermission didnโt have you on edge.
You had no idea what he meant by โget up hereโ when you were literally sitting in his lap already. Surely he didnโt meanโ
โOn my face,โ Choso clarifies, a sexy cloud of fumes ghosting out of his mouth along with his words.
At first, you just stared at him and watched him smoke. Your body was thrumming with need in multiple areas but you just couldnโt fathom sitting on his face. Surely, thatโd be pretty unsafe to do while both of you are heavily intoxicated. Hell, you can barely see around his bedroom, how can he possibly expect you to sit on his faceโฆ
Well, a few minutes later and youโre halfway there.
Not quite sittingโafter a million and one concerns of being scared to suffocate himโyouโre now hovering over Chosoโs face. You refused to meet eyes with him so youโre turned the opposite direction and your hands are helping your body remain hoisted up as they rest on the bed, caging the lower half of his bodyโjust as your legs were doing to his head right now.
Your pants have been snatched off and youโre completely exposed to the greed of his eyes. Heโs hardly touched you ever since you caved and brought your bare pussy up over his face. Youโve been left to stare at the throbbing bulge that rests a few inches away from your face and you feel awkward.
Yโknow, until thereโs a warm blow of intoxicated air that swirls up against your dripping cunt. Followed by which is the sound of Choso lapping over his lips at the sight, scoffing after. One thumb finally draws up to meet the left lip of your pussy as he slips it over and reveals more of your slicked glory. Your cunt clenches embarrassingly at his first touch and you silently hope he doesnโt notice how you drip when he starts talking.
โShiit,โ Choso begins, voice heavy in baritone nowโno longer from the weed but purely from his own arousal, โYouโre tellinโ me nobodyโs made this pretty girl cum?โ He asks, โWho the fuck have you been goinโ to, huh?โ
You glance back at him over your shoulder, hardly able to see his face with the way youโre hovering, โCho, Iโโ
โShhh, Iโll take care of yaโ. Donโt sweat it.โ He claims, to which you roll your eyes. He always fuckinโ says thatโฆ โNow sit.โ
Another gulp is heard from you, โChoso, I already told you. I donโt wanna crushโโ
Rolling those blown-out brown eyes of his, Chosoโs other hand meets your hip with a mean grip before he tugs your body down and your cunt promptly meets his greedy face. โSo stubborn.โ
The gasp you let out at the initial contact of his lips against your wetness makes something inside you crave the ability to disappear. You were hot before but now youโre soaking and heated all over.
Your nerves felt like they were on fire and your hips practically melted downwards when you felt Chosoโs tongue slither out to get the first taste of you. โHnngh-, fuckโฆโ You breathe, fingers curling into the sheets to hold onto.
Youโve gotten head from guys plenty of times but this was so much different. And he only just started!
You definitely had your high to blame for the way his tongue feels glissading upwards in between your lathering foldsโthe sensation so strong and pleasurable you swore for a second he had two tongues or something. Of course, thatโs just the weed talking but shitโฆ
โSโsweetโฆโ Choso mumbles into your cunt, pulling away just to spit and then using the fat of his thumb to rub the slick of it into you, โPoor baby, nobody could make you cum, huh?โ He says.
You start to open your mouthโthinking he was talking to youโbut when his thumb presses past that rather welcoming ring of resistance and earns one gorgeous squelch, you quickly realize heโs not talking to you at all.
โYeahh?โ He purrs, one eager smile plastering itself out across his face, โYou needed someone to come talk to you directly?โย
Choso toys with your insides using only his thumb for a while, grinning wickedly the whole way through as he watches the way your pussy splurts out such saccharine sounds of slick โn filth. Itโs not until your soakage is dripping down his hand that he finds himself grunting and then dragging his thumb out of you tenderly.
Sticking it into his mouth just to suck your taste off for a second, you hear the way he moans around his own digit. Then, before you have time to realize just how wet you really are, there are two dumbly thick fingers slipping past the plush of your folds, wiggling in deep and coaxing a pitched sound out of your throat.
โYโlike that, huh?โ Choso mutters from beneath you, jaw already coated with the sweet traces of your taste, โYouโre beinโ so loud, this must feel really goodโฆโ He comments softly. Then his fingers abruptly slip out of you and swat over to your clit to land a couple of wet smacks against, earning nothing more than a whine from you. To which he chuckles and tilts his head at the little quiver your cunt does in reaction, โHah, sโokay, you donโt have to answerโฆ sheโs doinโ plenty of talkinโ for you.โ
Those little smacks of his quickly grow repetitive and as he does so, he lets his jaw fall open and hangs his tongue out to capture the syrupy drip that oozes off of your walls.ย
When he starts working you over his fingers again, you donโt even realize the upper half of your body has slumped over until you feel something pressing up against your cheek. Your eyes had fluttered shut and everything, having grown so lost in the pleasure of his fingers that you didnโt even realize what youโd laid yourself on.
Lifting your head, you look over and stare at the outline of his cock again. Thereโs a slight patch of wetness where his plump tip is resting and youโre moving before youโre thinking.
โAw-, woahh..โ Choso gasps from behind you, to which your senses come back to you a bit whilst you push his sweatpants down. โWhat uh-,โ His voice almost cracks for a second there but he swallows the hindrance in his voice down. Then heโs hissing when your hand slips under his boxers and wraps around his curving shaft, โFuck.. whatโre you doinโ?โ
The curve in your back deepens and the fingers heโs got inside you now get swallowed up even tighter the second his cock springs out. With wide eyes and a drooling mouth, you donโt even hesitate to take his length into your hand and then let your breath hit it as you whisper, โReturning the favor, Choโฆโ
He scoffs, โYou donโt have to-, holy shitโฆโ The mere press of your warm lips against his leaky cockhead is enough to make him whine. And as if encouraged, you quickly spread your mouth over him and ease it down around his dick, letting your tongue lap at the sides upon your descent. โOh god, your throat feels s-so fuckinโ goodโฆ. A-All this and people had the nerve to leave you unsatisfied? Tch.โ
Meeting you halfway, Choso dives back into your cunt with the entirety of his mouth. You feel the ball of his tongue piercing tickle your walls as he stretches you out against the glutinous pink muscleโyour moaning around his cock sending filthy vibrations all throughout his body.
His hips thrust up instinctively and his lips pop off of you with a sharp breath, โFuck, princessโฆ Do that again, yeah?โ
Your cheeks hollow out as your jaw widens and you force yourself down further until his fat tip is bumping up against the back of your throat, earning a nasty gag from you. You try to lift yourself to breathe but youโre met with a sudden pressure at the back of your head as he swiftly pushes you back down.
โHold it fโme,โ Choso groans, โNeed you tโfeel me back there,โ He adds shortly after. Then, keeping your head still, โThere yaโ go, gooood girlโฆโ He praises as his hips start bucking up again until your eyes are coated with tears.
Truth be told, Choso isnโt normally this rough with anyone he fucks. But the high buzzing throughout his brain has him acting different. He can't get over the way your lips feel wrapped around his cock like a warm hug. And the way he slides all the way down your throat perfectly? Oh, youโre lucky he hasnโt cum inside your mouth already.
The dark hairs he has decorating the area around the base of his heavy length tickle your chin with how wide your lips are parted around him. You could feel him leaving soggy kisses against your uvula and all it did was make you soak above his face.
When you finally give him another moan as your face presses snuggly against his skinโthe veins trailing his dick pulsing with little heartbeats against your tongueโhe lets your head go. You fly up a bit and start coughing softly, glancing back at him with a pout as you wipe your mouth off, just to see that heโs already moving on to do something else as if he didnโt just choke you out on his dick less than two seconds ago.
Chosoโs got a joint perched between his lips as he takes a loooong drag from it and when he plucks it away from his mouth, he takes his free hand and moves it to your hip. You donโt even realize whatโs happened until something heated is slapping up against your slobbering cunt. The sensation makes you jump and then Chosoโever the freakโis leaning up to shotgun a kiss directly into the puffy folds of your cunt.
โCh-Choso,โ You choke, โWhat the f-fuuckโฆโ
Then your hips are lifting as if to escape him and something throaty and annoyed reverberates its way out of his throat before you feel his painted fingernails dig into your skin and force you back down, his head shaking up into your pussy whilst his tongue lathers into the deepest depths of your slutty cavern.
Then you hear the wet, gushing smacks that his mouth against your cunt begins to make, feeling a certain sensation bloom in the pit of your stomach. Your legs are twitching around his head and youโre whining. โChoso, w-waitโฆ please, I-I feel weirdโฆโ
Instead of acknowledging your words, he just groans something filthy and hot against you, โSuch a sloppy pussy, droolinโ allll over me like thisโฆโ He points out. Youโre not sure if itโs possible but heโs clearly high off of you and not just the weed.ย
You try rolling your hips back to see if that would capture his attention but all that does is make his cock drip with creamy slathers of white from the slit. As you notice that, you try to lean down and suck on his neglected tip, hoping that would get his mouth to go easy on you for just a second.
Unfortunately for you, that did the exact opposite.ย
Instead, Chosoโs pulling back to spit a gloopy wad of spit onto your cunt and then scoffing, โYou should tell me-, hah.. who the assholes are,โ He mutters, beyond pussy drunk, โThe ones that couldnโt make you cum,โ His tongue flicks around as if he were spreading his own saliva via spelling something out, โThen let me send โem the sexy lilโ mess mโabout to make of youโฆ.โ
Prying away from his cock for a second, โThatโd be so-, mmgh! Right there, Chosoโฆโ
โYeah? Right here? This is the spot they couldnโt find? How pathetic,โ Heโs searing with his tongue, drawing his name into your gluey walls all cursive-like, making your eyes roll back. โYouโre so easy to please,โ He teases, smiling after, โUnless, of courseโฆ fuck, thatโs only โcause of me?โ Choso asks, spitting again just to have the entire space in between your legs a slopped, wet mess, โSโthat what it is? You like the way I treat this pussy?โ
โYesss, Cho,โ You whine ever so thankfully.
And of course, he leans back up to french-kiss your pussy lips in response. Youโre so high โn horny that you donโt even realize the number of times youโd let your shimmery gloss of release coat the insides of his mouth by now.ย
Not until heโs felt smiling into you, โMgh.. again? How many times is that now? Eight?โ The number makes you inhale swiftly in surprise, your hand squeezing the base of his cock a bit tighter as you move your head to the side to moan deliciously. โGimme one more โn Iโll give you a breakโฆโ He coos, pierced tongue massaging your sensitive folds now.ย
At that, something prominent builds up within you. โChoso, mmnh! I-I think Iโmโฆ ohgodโฆ mโgonna cum,โ You pant, lazily jerking him off with what little strength you have in your hand.
He snickers, โSilly girl, you already did that. I think whatโs about to happen now is uhโฆโ His voice trails for a moment so that he could plug your hole in with his fingers and curl them against your g-spot, โYouโre about to squirt fโmeโฆโ Choso tells you.ย
And squirt for him you do.
You never thought you could feel pleasure so good that you couldnโt even tell youโd finished until you were at the point of squirting. Itโs a weird sensation that makes you moan his name loud enough for his fraternity brothers to hear outside of his room.ย
Your entire body convulses and your mind just blanks out. You think his fingers are somewhere around your clit and his tongue is back in between your slippery walls but you couldnโt tell at this pointโall you knew was that you were making a mess all over his face.
And through it, he was down there praising you. โThatโs it, thaaaatโs it, princess..โ Letting his tongue dangle out again to slur, โRight on my fuckinโ face, I want everyyy drop.โ
Itโs embarrassing for youโyโknow, squirting all over your plugโs face just from his stupidly skillful tongue and fingers. You wanted to hate every second of it, hate how nasty you felt by the time your orgasmic high began to diminish but, fuck there wasn't a single thought left in your brain.
You told the man no guy was making you cum and he did so consecutively without even putting his cock inside you. Not only that, he was faded the entire time!
Arguably, you were too so thatโs likely why you were so sensitive to his mouth to begin with butโฆ still.
You feel like you black out after your orgasm but, itโs only for a few seconds. Eventually, your ears catch the loud roar of his groans and bat your tear-coated eyelashes open to see his cock has spilt globs of cum out around your hand. Your grasp on him instantly releases and you scoff softly at the sticky mess.
Both of your orgasms leave your bodies motionless for a long whileโyour frame slumped over against hisโand nothing but the sound of filthy pants echo throughout his fogged room.
Chosoโs the first to eventually break the silence with a breathy, โAnd uh, next time come to me when you wanna get offโฆโ He murmurs, feeling your limp body weight shift against him a little, โโฆnot just for weed, okay?โ
โUhuh..โ You babble tiredly.
โGood,โ He sighs. โ'Cause I charge pretty cheap for these sex sessions.โ
Freezing, โWhat?โ
Choso chuckles, a weary smile painted across his slicked face, โI told you I donโt do anything for free, didnโt I?โ
โBet youโre thinkinโ of me while heโs fucking you, huh?โ
โง Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.
โง Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader
โง Need To Know | This story was originally written by me on wattpad with different characters. It got deleted & I moved here.
โง Contents | afab!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, college non-curse au, toxic altercations, angst, reader lowkey hops around between the two, jealousy, possessiveness, slut activities, gen z references, alcohol, fluff, 18+ scenes, porn w plot, etc.
โBet youโre thinkinโ of me while heโs fucking you, huh?โ
โง Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.
โง Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader
โง Need To Know | This story was originally written by me on wattpad with different characters. It got deleted & I moved here.
โง Contents | afab!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, college non-curse au, toxic altercations, angst, reader lowkey hops around between the two, jealousy, possessiveness, slut activities, gen z references, alcohol, fluff, 18+ scenes, porn w plot, etc.
Blows my mind to think it's been two years ! Especially since most of them have been spent with me unable to write due to mental health issues...here's to hoping to I can pick back up on it soon !
Happy New Years members of the kamiverse!! This year, I've got our usuals prepared for you! But fret not, new works will be coming sooner than you think! The F*ck List | My Love Note | Crown of Sin | F*ck The List | TFL (extras) | Please be sure to check out Kamiโs rules and upcoming works! Wanna get straight to it? Then check out kamiTV.
โง.* "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT SILLY PROJECT OF YOURS, YOU JUST WANT SOME DICK."
[ { SYPNOSIS } ] โค A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?
[ { NEED TO KNOW } ] โค This fic was originally written & published on Wattpad but due to multiple complications, Iโve decided to upload it here.
[ { CONTENT } ] โค Each chapter is rather lengthy & the entirety of this fiction exceeds at least 90k words and counting. There are plenty of sexual themes & smut within this story so please proceed with caution.
[ { WARNINGS } ] โค fem!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, alcohol, college non-curse au, toxic altercations & interactions, heavy blackmail, hints of; obsession, possessiveness, & stalking. Violence, whore activities, gen z references, & above all; 18+ themes.
[ { PAIRINGS } ] โค jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ { DISCLAIMER } ] โค Please do not come to me with comparisons of this story to any other out there. I usually donโt mind but there are specific books out there that this tale has been oddly compared to in the past &, itโs caused complications & unnecessary drama. As such, enjoy tfl for what it is, pls & ty.
โฅ Chapters !
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56.5.
Extras.
In case youโre confused, hereโs a breakdown of this fic.
