Synopsis. Geto Suguru cannot love. Geto Suguru cannot long. Geto Suguru cannot desire to touch—and especially not a non-sorcerer such as you. Not in his past, his present, nor his future. That’s until a visit from the three ghosts of Christmas might just force him into admitting the one wish he’s been denying himself all these years: you. In his bed.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, cuIt leader!Geto, based on A Christmas Carol (2009), canon fix-it, takes place during JJK 0, three ghosts, slight angst, hurt + comfort, TIME TRAVEL, pIot, YEARNING Geto, forbidden Iove (you’re a non-sorcerer), feraI Geto, pússydrúnk Geto, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, p sIapping, spítting, he's DESPERATE, overstím, DÚMBIFlCATION, manhandIing, matíng presses, BRÉEDlNG, mentions of kids, overspiIIing, possessive Geto, mentions of the future, creampíes, cúmpIay, confessions, second chances, getting together, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.5k
A/N. Happy holidays from Santa Tony!!
24th of December, Christmas Eve.
Geto Suguru couldn’t love you.
But that wouldn’t explain a single thing he did.
His temple’s red torii gates had a curse stationed upon either side to alert him whenever someone walked through it - those seeking his healing, yes - but one non-sorcerer above all. He couldn’t explain that. He’d ordered some of his association members to sweep that empty room just a hallway down his own on a daily basis, in anticipation of someone’s visit - an anticipation of you, unspoken. He couldn’t explain that.
He was currently seated at a long table with the closest of his association ‘family’ discussing plans for tonight. It was the very day these last ten years had been leading up to: the day he was going to put an end to non-sorcerers.
Today, the most important day of his life. Humans, the most hated kind in his heart.
And yet—there was one human in his mind.
You.
He couldn’t explain that.
Geto runs a hand through his long silken hair, letting the edges curl around his fingers like tendrils of night. Swallow him up.
He remembers how, in middle school, he used to be a source of envy for boys and girls alike because of this very hair. They’d braid it. They’d pin flowers in it. He wonders where those little human classmates of his were now. Doing well? As much as a human could. Dead? Well, after tonight…Now he can’t remember the last time he combed his own hair without Nanako and Mimiko gently sitting him down and doing it themselves, after a long while spent seeing their pseudo-father accumulate knots. Unsolvable knots.
Geto would’ve cut it all off if it didn’t mean looking in the mirror and seeing his father look back at him.
Then again, you did tell him you found his hair beautiful one time.
He lets out a subconscious sigh, and that seems to catch the attention of those around him.
“Pa—I mean! Geto-sama, you seem tired.” Nanako’s bleached hair quivers as she leans in concern, her painted lips pouting together. Her and her sister were the ones seated closest to him - on either side just like two arms. “You’re starting to get, like, eye-bags and crease lines! You should just get some rest already-”
Just as Geto was raising his hand to wave off Nanako’s worries with a smile- “It’s true, Geto-sama.” Her sister’s speaking up. The darker-haired of the twins looks at him seriously, “Don’t think we haven’t noticed that you haven’t been sleeping much these days. Are you…” She hesitates, “Are you having second thoughts-”
“Never.” Geto says, firmly. “Never.”
She breathes out and he isn’t quite sure whether it’s in acceptance or relief, “Then please remember that rest is important in any well-executed plan.”
“I don’t believe I have given you any reason to think that I should fail in my plan?” Geto asks, his simpering smile spreading across his face.
And the reactions are instant—
“No! No please do not misunderstand me, Geto-sama.” Mimiko protests.
“You would never fail us, Geto-sama-”
“I love you, Geto-sama~”
“What the twins say is true.” Miguel’s the only one to cross his strong arms across his chest, gaze piercing even though his perpetual shades. He levels a look down at Geto, “Just as we trust your leadership, Geto-sama, you have to trust that your family will be just as competent.”
Geto almost chuckles, “I know my family is competent.”
“Then let us handle the rest of it, Geto-sama!” Nanako pips up in determination, to which her twin nods fervently. “Right now all that’s left is to revise your masterful plan- so you just get some sleep and we’ll wake you up before it’s time for action!”
Their dark-haired leader makes a noise of weak dismissal, “But-”
“We promise we have it all covered!”
That particular sentence was followed by some passionate tones of agreement echoed around the room, drowning out Geto’s slight protest with ease.
He heaves out a meaningful sigh, he did admit that his eyelids were feeling heavier day by day. There was a fatigue he couldn’t explain that had taken up permanent residence in his bones - it had become one with him. He admits that part of it likely had something to do with the sleepless nights spent poring over their battle strategies, but part of it seemed to stem from something else, too…
He just wished he knew what.
Geto shakes his head free of the thought, and hopes it looks like he’s just shaking his head fondly at his family. “You all…” And with only the briefest hesitation, he’s bracing his hands upon either arm of his chair and standing up. “On Christmas eve, we will commence our widescale attack on Shinjuku including Tokyo Jujutsu High. You are to wake me one hour before the plan is to be executed, and not a single minute later.”
They breathe out sighs of relief, and Larue announces- “Anything for you, Geto-sama~!”
Geto Suguru takes one last glance behind him as he leaves the meeting room: the handful of sorcerers that he considered his true family. They pored over scraps of paper with his own neat handwriting displayed on them, reading through the perfect attack positions and hiding corners in Tokyo Jujutsu High. He would know.
They beam at him, and he can’t help but crack an easy smile back—yes, maybe this truly was the way it’s supposed to be. They would wake him up.
In the next few minutes, Geto’s walking through the sprawling corridors of his temple. Quite the large building. Quite the ancient building. Quite the secretive building - even before a maddened cult leader had come to take residence in this place.
The well-polished wooden floors seemed to creak with invisible footsteps, and towering beams held up a gilded roof. It dappled soft patterns on a garden that was now desolate and dusted with the first frost of Christmas. Those specks of nothingness lifted with a winter draft, seeping in through the cracks of the floor-to-ceiling sliding panels. Seeping inside.
From the slices of the outside that Geto could see through the panel, he spots a singular paper red paper strip tied to a nearby pine. It was one of those long vertical papers that people wrote wishes on - your work, surely. Not many people came to this temple to wish.
All he has to do is reach his arm through the half-open divider to catch the flapping wishing paper—I wish for a peaceful new year for us all (especially the ever-stressed Geto-sama!!)
Geto chuckles, before his eyes dip further.
And may my love come true.
And then his gaze narrows.
He’s not quite sure what that sudden stab of pain in his chest means - nor does he have the time and patience to ponder upon it, really. Pondering is what turns such things dangerous. It’s best to leave some thoughts untouched, if you don’t think about it then it hasn’t happened.
Somewhat.
Geto’s tearing the wishing paper off the tree and tucking it into his sleeve, striding his way into his bedroom. The only time that he actually slows down is when he passes by the bedroom that had been allocated to you.
You were Shoko’s friend before his. And to this day, he still isn’t quite sure what made you follow him to his doom that day of his defection rather than staying behind with the friends you always knew and trusted - and Geto Suguru hadn’t asked, either. He’s sure it was a long story anyways.
The only right he’d done by you was refusing to kill you.
At least until tonight, he’s not sure what will happen once his plans are thrown into motion - the eradication of all non-sorcerers, how sweet it had sounded when he first said it.
And it wasn’t as if you were entirely oblivious to his schemes, either. You were an honorary member of his association, he supposes, and he knows that most members don’t understand why you were here either. You had your own life. You had an office job. You had a family. You had connections with the outside world—and yet, when the clock hit 5PM at the end of your shift and your friends all made their excuses to go home, the only home you went to was Geto Suguru.
He still didn’t understand why. He would never.
Nor does he know why he peaks his head inside your bedroom with a knock at your door, a subtle smile spreading across his face at the vision of you on your bed and reading. “Am I interrupting?” He always said that non-sorcerers had a certain stench to them - that stench of weakness.
He’s always found that he basks in your flowery scent.
“Oh? Look who came back down to Earth.” You’re looking up from your book and smiling - far wider and far brighter than he ever could nor would deserve. “I thought you’d be locked up inside that meeting room until New Year’s.”
“If we were then we wouldn’t be able to carry out the plan.” Geto reminds you—our plan. As if you would ever concoct such a thing when it was entirely him.
“Ah, of course.” You close your book and swing your legs to place your feet on the floor with utmost casualness. Staring at him for what feels like a lingering few seconds, before you finally sigh. He never wanted that sound of tiredness to leave your mouth ever again. “Then I suppose this might be a good time to tell you that I’m leaving the temple. For good.”
He shouldn’t feel as shocked as he does, “What-”
“Oh c’mon, Suguru.” You’re still maintaining your smile, with a glint of exasperated fondness. But how could you just smile at him like that? How could you smile? Tone almost as if you were soothing a crying child and nothing more than that, “Don’t look so shocked, we both knew this day was going to come.”
Was it him? Was it he who made you sound so exhausted? “I don’t understand. The plan-”
“Constitutes that all non-sorcerers are to be eradicated for the betterment of jujutsu society.” You finish off for him, and he’s slightly taken aback by how you’ve memorized his very words. Geto never realized how many mealtimes shared with you that he must have spent talking about this plan. He never realized. The smile on your face grows slightly sad now, “And I know what you see me as.”
What? He wants to demand, but the word never comes out.
“I should’ve hoped that after ten years I- nevermind.” You’re cutting yourself off and looking away from him—and he wants to tell you to continue. He wants to. But what right does he have when he can’t even speak his mind freely himself? “I have never hoped to change you. Not then, and I certainly will not right now. But I can’t stand to have my blood stain this temple.”
You’re standing up then, and his hands reach out to you before his mind can fully compute why.
You don’t seem to notice his abrupt movement, only rounding the bed and crouching down where your bags were in the middle of being packed. “When you succeed-”
“If I succeed?”
With your back turned to him like this, he couldn’t make out the expression on your face as you continue speaking. He almost wants to walk up to you and turn you around to face him himself. “I only ask that it doesn’t have to be you personally- send someone else to kill me off. Maybe Miguel or Negi. I’ll be in Sendai.”
He clenches his jaw, that very same outreached hand now clenching at his side. “You wish to be killed by Miguel or Negi?”
“Any one of your family.” Your tone doesn’t reveal a thing, and you speak as if a silent part of Geto hadn’t been counting you amongst his family for a long, long time now. “Just not you. Not even one of your curses.”
“Just not me.” Geto repeats, hollow.
And, before, in high school he always did end up knowing the right thing to do. He always did end up knowing the right thing to say. He always did end up knowing the right thing to feel. Or, at least, what felt like it to him at the time.
But this Geto Suguru doesn’t.
This Geto Suguru is more lost than he was at seventeen.
He turns his back to you as you were doing to him, he wonders if you can hear his silent movements. Gaze lowered to the polished wood underneath his sandals, “I understand.” He takes his first step out of the human’s bedroom, it rings out emptily. Geto Suguru was never too good at goodbyes. “I will see to it that your final wish is followed.”
He hears your soft sobs follow him to his own bedroom.
.
.
.
Geto’s sleep is fitful and more painful than if he’d have stayed awake.
He doesn’t remember the walk back from your room and changing into his softest robes, but he does remember hoping that by changing his clothes, perhaps, he could shed the weight that seemed to have settled in his chest. It doesn’t quite work and he sleeps facing upright.
It hurts. It hurts.
At one point he wakes up wondering whether he should ask for Negi or someone to call for the association’s healer. At another he wakes up with his tears plastering his cheek to the pillow and he’s not quite sure why, brain sleep-muddled enough that he thinks they may have been your tears. But you weren’t here, and you will never be now.
At another point he wakes up and it’s all darkness.
Geto’s blinking his slightly swollen eyes at the void that doesn’t need to blink—what was the time? When he’d fallen asleep, the soft blush of dusk was still filtering in from his window - but right now it was darker than it would be at the pitch dead of night. Like a thick veil covering the outlines of his curtains, his furniture, his own self.
Did they forget to wake him up? Fuck- he hastens to reach out and slam a hand down on the cuboid alarm placed on his bedside table. Squinting at the darkness for a sign of those green digital numbers and—
Nothing.
Geto sits up and claws at the darkness to grab that damned clock in his hands- stupid human junk. He’s pressing every button on it that he can feel for and physically shaking it to get it to work. And yet, its dead clock face only seems to laugh and laugh and laugh at him-
“That won’t work, Geto-san!” Comes a soft, boyish voice - almost a whisper, almost the soft breath of wind that he could’ve explained away as the sounds exhaled from outside his window had it not been for the way that every single hair on his body raises. Cold fear gripping him for the first time in ten years. And Geto stills. “Time is irrelevant here.”
Because he knew that voice from anywhere.
In a movement so sharp and so primal that it nearly gives him whiplash- Geto Suguru drops the alarm and faces the foot of the bed.
Before him stands a man- a boy, more like. And the moment he sets his sights on him, Geto doesn’t know how he ever missed him.
This sudden ray of light in the night.
Grinning. Beaming.
Not only in his expression, but in every particle he was made up of. It was obviously not a person of this realm: body composed of what looked like a golden mist faintly shaping into the figure of a human, rays of light casting wherever he hovered, the flares of his existence flickering as if the darkness within Geto’s room was threatening to swallow him whole. In the hazy outline of his round face, Geto could see the warmest smile he’d seen in some time now. Other than yours. In his hand, he sees that this…thing held an oversized candle snuffer made of brass.
Past that, he could only see the semi-translucent upper half of the boy, but he already knew that his feet didn’t touch the floor. Didn’t have to. And had it been anyone but who Geto knew him to be, then he would’ve thought himself gone mad to think that this was some apparition and not a Special Grade curse.
Still, he uses his cursed technique to mentally summon every cursed being he knows - and finds that none appear before the ghost of Haibara Yu.
His entire body feels as though someone had poured ice-cold water over him.
Geto’s feet push him further and further up the mattress until he hits the wooden headboard, words coming out as if he’d just run a marathon. “You’re-” Cutting himself off with a burst of his own cursed energy, as if to exorcise this being. “You can’t be-”
The boy only grins wider.
And Geto’s voice almost breaks, “You aren’t-”
“Have you forgotten me already, Geto-san?” Brief sadness flickers in Haibara’s eyes - before he’s hovering closer to the other man, and Geto’s scrambling away from him like a madman. “I didn’t think it’s been that long.”
“It’s been ten years—” And Geto Suguru has seen dead bodies. He’s even seen dead bodies become reanimated with the help of jujutsu. But this was Haibara—young, grinning, happy Haibara with his soft eyes and his softer heart.
The Haibara that he’d welcomed with an over-the-top party on his first day at school. The Haibara that he’d share his rice with when it was too much. The Haibara that he remembered that last conversation about sweets with before his final mission. Haibara that lay cold and dead on Tokyo Jujutsu High’s examination table.
Geto was twenty-seven and Haibara was still sixteen.
That bowl-cut of his just the way he remembered - but when has he ever looked this much like a child? Or maybe it’s just Geto who’s grown up. “It’s been ten years and you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be alive-”
“And I am not, Geto-san.” Haibara smiles sadly, and the other man wonders just why he made others make that expression. In every route of his life, in every realm.
The golden figure floats away slightly, and Geto lunges after it- “Who summoned you-”
“No one.”
“Which human practiced the occult-”
“No one.”
“What cursed technique then-”
“No one’s, Geto-san.” Haibara finally utters, just as patient as he remembered him. He floats around the corners of the room as if inspecting, “I am no one’s son.” Placing a hand on the wall that Geto’s room shared with yours, “Someone is crying here, Geto-san.”
Something wounded within Geto twitches, and he finally bows his head. He finds that he was kneeling on the mattress - when did that happen? When did his voice grow to be such a tired, dreary thing? “What do you want from me, Yu?”
“So you do remember me!” The boy gleefully laughs, hovering a full lap around the grand room before coming to a stop before the grim-faced man. And Geto almost wants to ask—how could he forget? It was hard not to look back at Haibara when he peered up at Geto in such a way, “I am the ghost of your past, Geto-san.”
“The past?” He asks, growing more and more confused by the second.
“Your past.” And before Geto knows it, the younger boy has one warm hand clasped around his. Feeling like the soft fan of early morning sunlight on his skin, he tugs Geto to his feet and leads him in the direction of the doorway. “Rise—and walk with me.”
Where Geto was sure they’d be walking out into the hallway of the temple, he blinks as they step through the door frame and finds himself…in another room entirely.
It was one that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any school, really.
Your average seats and desks. Your average windows. Your average mediocre artwork lining the walls. Your average human students that buzzed and flittered about in a way they only could when the teacher was out.
He gasps, swivelling behind him to find that the door to his bedroom had disappeared.
And in its place was an open classroom door, kids whizzing by in the corridor.
The only reason that Geto even knew that this was his middle school was because of the tiny version of him, with his feet propped on the desk like a king. Chair balanced on two legs. Handsome face raised into the air. Shoulder-length hair in the hands of one of his classmates. His father hadn’t been too far off when he claimed that his son would be popular, and it was quite the regular occurrence for him to be called out for confessions by both boys and girls - not that he paid too much attention to these fleeting emotions.
Not that he….
“I know…” Geto breathes out, barely even a whisper. There’s a knot in his throat that no amount of swallowing can deter, “I know this place…this was my old middle school.”
“Your lips are trembling.” Haibara observes, not unkindly. And as Geto turns away from him with his mouth tightened, the boy-ghost swiftly hovers to the other side of him. “And what is that? On your cheek, Geto-san?”
“Nothing.” He grits out, the back of his hand coming to swipe at his wet face. He hasn’t cried like this in ten years. Not this much. “There’s just something in my eye- it’s always so damn stuffy in this place.”
“Do you remember your days here?” The spirit asks softly.
“Remember?” Geto almost chuckles, “I live a thousand deaths reliving them.”
“Then look…” Haibara looks back and forth between the past version of Geto Suguru and the current. “I don’t remember you ever being so red, Geto-san. At least, not unless you were in the presence of her-”
They both peer at the old version of him.
“Shush, Yu.” Geto bites out, moving even closer to his flush-faced self. “I…I don’t remember myself being so red either. Who was—oh.”
His heart drops.
In a sea of faces, there are only a few that one can recognize at first glance.
To Geto, yours was right there at the top.
You were the one - undeniably the one - seated behind him. You were the one with your smaller fingers weaving through his silky hair and dividing it into sections. You were the one with an armful of flowers that you were carefully placing.
You hadn’t even been in his class-
“Isn’t young love sweet?” Haibara floats closer, pointing at the younger versions of yourselves: you, chattering on nervously as you fill the silence while braiding Geto’s hair, Geto pretending through a blush that he was registering a single word you said.
Humming absent-mindedly along, voice higher than Geto ever remembers it being.
Geto looks at him in question.
And Haibara always answers, “Those sweet middle-school memories you had? You can thank her for those- as you can thank her for many things. She wasn’t in your class, no—” And Geto wonders whether he can read his mind, “-but she did come to you at every lunchtime without fail. A friend of a friend. You two were friends by chance. You remember now, don’t you?”
His mouth parts, “I…I do-” How could he ever have forgotten?
“And you remember the day she left?” Before Geto can stop it, the background dissolves once more- except, it’s the same classroom. The same set of students. The same him.
It might as well have been the same day had it not been for one glaring absence - you.
And it was clearly affecting the Geto in the memory, as well. He seemed…dimmed. He had his head resting in his arms on the table, looking up alertly any time the classroom door opened—and then pushing right back down any time it wasn’t you. No one talked to him.
Geto looks away.
“It’s the first time you’ve been so upset, right, Geto-san?” Haibara questions, his eyes lowered with emotion. “Loss is something you’ve had to face from a young age, and I apologize-”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He almost snaps, looking back at the scene. “Her- what happened to her?”
“Family moved. Guardian’s promotion to Tokyo.” The spirit replies simply, “It was a sudden endeavor, she didn’t know it herself until it was time to leave.” And then Haibara cracks a sheepish smile, “If you thought you were upset, you should’ve seen her.”
He pleads, “But why didn’t she tell me-”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Those large eyes stare at him - once they were a beautiful brown, probing. Now they were golden. Now they were asking why he didn’t take the time to probe you, to know you, to even know what middle school you’d gone to-
“I didn’t…I didn’t remember-” Geto’s breath hitches, he felt the tears coming on once more.
Haibara wraps an arm around his dark-haired friend’s shoulder, “It’s understandable. It was just that summer that you discovered your cursed technique, Geto-san, I wouldn’t blame you. And you shouldn’t blame yourself.” He then attempts to put his arm around the other man’s shoulders, but ends up floating right through.
“I want to leave.” He whispers, and Haibara looks at him curiously. “Show me something else. Please.”
Haibara nods, but he looks at the past memory once again. “Poor, poor boy.”
Geto doesn’t know which version of him he’s talking about.
The golden spirit then reaches down to clasp Geto’s hand once more, now trembling and pale. “Come on…let’s see another past.” And Geto feels his surroundings melt away into nothingness and something entirely new once more
This time when he met you for the first time.
Well, when he met you again for the first time.
“—and this is Geto Suguru.” Shoko gestures towards the black-haired boy, slightly loose in his uniform. Ah yes, Geto remembers that she’d been the one to conduct the introductions between him and you, her best friend from her Tokyo middle school.
And he could see it only now, that slight sparkle of recognition in your eyes.
Mixed with the vagueness of something else the second he’d stuck his hand out in a fresh new introduction.
Something sad.
“Pleasure to meet you.” The past version of himself purrs, hair not pulled back in a bun as it had come to be in his second year. This was just a few months since he’d started at Tokyo Jujutsu High, he remembers, and the greenery of the campus grounds had never looked more lush. Everything had been alive those two springs. “Ieri here has talked a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope.” You’d managed out a smile, and now he wonders how.
“Only.”
Shoko wrinkles her nose, “Don’t get caught up with this one, when he breaks your heart I’ll have to break his nose and Yaga would give me detention for that. Don’t wanna break my streak just yet.” His past self protests, though his current can only bitterly chuckle at the truth.
The short-haired girl then catches a flash of blue and white in the corner of her vision and groans, “And here comes the other one. He’s almost worse and will definitely hit on y-”
They’re flicking through more memories, remnants of such.
You’d hung out with the three of them sporadically after that. Geto sees the party they’d thrown for the first-years, Nanami and Haibara. Geto sees parts of missions he can’t remember—and then parts of a mission he can. The Star Plasma Vessel. Geto sees his last moments with Haibara, and when it looked like the spirit of his dead friend was about to stop on one particular moment where he’d first seen Haibara’s dead body- Geto reaches out and shakes his head.
To which Haibara had smiled sadly and kept going.
Ultimately, they stop on a busy road in Tokyo.
It was here that a younger him, donned in all black and keeping his head lowered, was weaving against the crush of the crowd. Step by step. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Unsure which one was the harder feat to accomplish.
Geto knew this moment. But he doesn’t remember it being so dim in this memory.
There was a trembling in his lip that he’d never noticed as Geto walked away from jujutsu society that day, walked away from his one and only best friend.
“Are you The Strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re The Strongest?”
It was a long walk alone.
At least, until he’d bumped into…you.
“Watch where you’re-” The current Geto hovers nearby, seeing the exact moment that you look up and let your eyes widen in recognition. And as Geto turns to step aside and keep on walking- you’d reached out and clasped him by the fabric of his sweater. “Wait- wait, Suguru?” It’d been some time since he’d started spiralling, since you’d all hung out together - but you wouldn’t mistake that face for the world. “Where are you going looking like that? Why do you look so—”
Sad.
Geto now realizes it’s what you’d been trying to ask.
Instead, you’re questioning. “Are you alright?”
But he’d turned back to you with only a dead smile. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
“I don’t know- Shoko told me you’ve just been a little…” You trail off, and he’s sure you’d been briefed well enough by your friend. Holding up the snacks in your hands. “I’m actually going to meet her right now, would you like to come with me?”
“I’m afraid not today.” He tilts his head, turning to leave once more.
But you hadn’t let up- gripping his soft fabric again. “Where are you going?” Perhaps feeling that you’d simply been asking too many questions, you blurt on. “Actually- it doesn’t matter, just take me with you!”
To this day, he doesn’t know why you’d asked to come with him. It’s what led to this in the first place.
He turns to Haibara with his mouth open in a question-
“Why?”
Geto snaps his head to his past version, he doesn’t remember this part.
“Wh-what?” You ask nervously.
“Why?” The younger him repeats.
“Because…” And his ghostly self was on edge awaiting your answer, knowing the him in this memory was far too much of a mess to remember. The metallic packets in your hand rustle as you squeeze them tighter, “Because it looks like you could use something to eat.”
He wants to reach out and touch you—he does. But his hand passes right through you, and Haibara clasps it instead.
“It is now-” He starts, his soft sibilance. “-it is here, that I leave you.”
“Wait-” Geto clamors forwards as the other man reaches for the candle snuffer that had been in his other hand this entire time, fingers gliding right through the mist of his body as he tries to stop his friend’s spirit. Perhaps to bind him to him. “Wait a minute, Yu-”
He only smiles sadly, “We will meet again, Geto-san.”
“No-” Geto feels his throat run ragged, “But there are so many more things I need to tell you- so many more things I need to ask you—did you suffer then? Are you suffering now? Please know that I’m sorry-”
“We will meet again.”
“Yu, don’t leave me—” He cries, “I miss you—”
“And just as I miss you, every candle must go out some time, Geto-san.” The top of Haibara’s bowl cut disappears beneath the brass, the only thing that one could see of him was his smile. He attempts to embrace him, but his arms go right through him. “Everything good and painful must come to an end.”
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
Blue.
Aquariums.
It’s the only thing that Geto sees at first, and though he can’t see it - he can feel the scorching summer sun basking down on him. It covered him entirely and birthed a glow behind his squinted eyelids. Gentle, at first, though slowly growing more painful the longer it lingered on his skin. Like a kiss grown too fierce.
Push and pull, the sighs of the waves.
When was the last time he’d been to the beach?
“Not in about ten years, stupid.” Oh.
Now that voice was harder to pinpoint than Haibara’s had been, though nevertheless striking a wound in him that he thought he’d bandaged up quite well all those years ago. It seems he wasn’t quite well at licking his wounds after all.
Geto hastily blinks his vision back and takes in the sight of none other than Riko Amanai before him. It was like a vision.
He remembers it all: the Okinawa beaches, the aquariums, the sound of a gunshot. The same black hair in pigtails. The same school uniform. The same wide dark eyes of hers that danced with mirth. The only start difference now was in the way she held a flaming torch in one hand, casting fiery shadows on the whirling aquariums around them. She wasn’t quite the candlelit vigil that Haibara had been, though something about her seemed much…grander than he remembers her being. As if he’d shrunk before her.
Geto’s eyes shift from her glowing figure to the taller woman next to him—ah, he does remember that she had a caretaker with her. Though her name he cannot remember.
“Misato Kuroi.” The older woman speaks, and even now she seems so much wiser than him. Was he getting close to her age? She shoots him a wry smile, “Though I do not blame you for forgetting, I bet you not to speculate my age.”
“M-my apologies.” He utters out.
“Haaaaah?” Riko drags out in a disbelieving tone, her eyes going wide with surprise. “Whaddaya mean you’re just gonna apologize like that? You were so much more fun back then- hmpf, now you’re like an old man-”
“Riko-san, please.” Misato begs.
And Riko quietens down, though she does not completely stop her grumbling. And though Geto might have been somewhat stunned into silence at first, he can’t help but plant a palm down on the girl’s head and ruffle her hair. Was she always this tiny? “No no- she’s right. I have become an old man as of late, haven’t I?”
Riko turns away from him with a harrumph and a string of muttered words.
“What’s that? Could almost hear ya.” Geto teases.
And she responds slightly louder, in a slightly choked-up tone. “And you’ve gotten all those dark circles and worry lines! You just look so tired- hmpf, old man.”
“Is that so?” Geto playfully asks, but he looks up at Misato who’d been examining.
“I’m afraid to say she’s right, Geto-san.” Misato sadly replies with a slightly bitter smile. “These ten years have been hard for you, haven’t they?”
He feels something clog up in his throat, and instantly looks away.
It’s Misato who first breaks the silence - still seemingly the only adult in the room, even after all this time. How ironic was that? “But that’s exactly what we’re here to help with, aren’t we, Riko-san?”
She places both hands on the shoulders of the girl with the torch, and lightly nudges her forward. “I guess…” The little girl sighs, looking at him meaningfully. “We’re the ghosts of your present. We represent peace, love, and the present—yours.”
Peace and love? Geto has the sudden thought that his present likely had none of that, though he keeps it to himself. He’s sure they can read his mind either way. “Take me wherever you want then, spirits.”
Riko and Misato look at each other.
She’s then raising the curdling torch as high as her arm could reach, casting an oasis of yellow on the glass of the aquariums around them. Aquariums—Geto has memories of those during his time on Okinawa. His first and his last.
“Touch the glass.” Riko announces.
And Geto doesn’t waste a second of his present.
The moment the edge of his fingertips rests on the cold glass, it feels as if he’s drowning. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He can’t feel anything but the wash of water down his entire being as though a shower that had burst, as though he’s standing underneath a waterfall, as though he’s being dragged through a pool of cold water and ending up on the other side.
He gasps as soon as the water trickles away and he can finally take his breath.
“Wh-what the hell was that?” He sputters out, still feeling the faux water in his lungs. Looking down at himself to realize that not a single inch of him was actually wet- “That was the most unpleasant feeling-”
“Oh shut it, old man.” Riko interrupts, “And look.”
“Look whe- oh.” All he has to do is look up to know where he is. If his middle school classroom wouldn’t have looked out of place in any other school, then this particular one wouldn’t have looked in place anywhere but in Tokyo Jujutsu High.
It was the second years’ classroom.
Open space. Blackboard. Scuffed floor. Where the last remnants of the sun melted over the horizon and bled through the open windows, casting a glow on every wooden chair and desk. Ones that he was sure had his name doodled on some of them, along with a few more salacious drawings from his youth.
But Geto isn’t searching for them right now, he lets his eyes stay only to the man seated on the chair closest to the window. Legs propped up in a way that he’s surely gotten told off for before, balancing the chair on two feet as he looked at the sunset outside.
Gojo Satoru’s sadness was palpable even with his blindfold on.
“Satoru…” Geto takes a step forward, but there almost felt as though there was an invisible screen between the two of them. And he could not go any further.
Misato held him back with a kind hand on his shoulder, “Keep watching.”
Gojo rests in his contemplative silence, and he doesn’t know whether he’s seen his best friend brooding such as this ever before. Well…other than on the day he left. There was such sadness about being The Strongest.
There’s a soft knock on the door and the three beings from the other realm turn to see Shoko there. Her dark circles heavier than ever. “I see you’re taking your teaching duties with utmost seriousness.” She deadpans.
“Why, you know~” Gojo starts off. Before the smile falls from his face and he turns to the window once more, “He’ll be here tonight.”
“He will.”
“And the students-”
“Your students will be fine.” Shoko reassures, walking up to her longtime friend. She keeps a desk between them and takes a seat, gliding the tips of her fingers down the shaky engraving of her name on the wood. The empty desk stood loudly between them.
“I know.” Gojo sighs, “It’s not them.”
“Then?”
“It’s just…” And Geto has never seen the Gojo Satoru trail off a sentence, Geto has never seen Gojo Satoru struggle to put something into words. “It’s just the students that we were-”
Shoko waits patiently for his answer, and so does Geto.
But the only thing that Gojo’s doing is to bark out a laugh, so bitter. “How did it come to this, Shoko? What a way to spend Christmas eve.”
“Satoru.” Shoko looks away from her best friend, reaching deep in her pockets for a cigarette. Each occupant in that room right now startles at the sound of her phone starting to ring, and she looks at the screen before walking away. “Your students need you.”
A second knock rings out, and Geto only needs to hear his soft, stuttering voice to know that it’s that Yuta Okkotsu kid. Him and his curse.
His fists clench.
“Touch the glass, Geto.”
He does, and the scenery melts.
Whizzing past glimpses and gazes into the lives of the newest set of first years at the school, and then the association members right now who were planning pillage.
Until finally they stop. It’s the same sunset that reaches out through windows that are much narrower and of a darker wood than before…and yet a completely different room. He recognizes it to be the ones at the rooms of his temple, and never realized just how much more dreary they were in comparison to the sprawling windows at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
More specifically, he realizes he’s in your room.
Bags packed. Closet empty. You’re staring out the window.
Like a little lark aching to break free. You have your phone held against one ear, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that might have once-upon-a-time been his and a pair of underwear that makes his face heat. “Yeah…yeah, mhm…I know. I don’t think that it’s something I regret, Shoko.” Ah—Geto doesn’t think that he’s surprised it’s Shoko on the other end of the line. He knew that the two of you still met up occasionally, though you were always good at keeping the place of his hideout secret. “Yes, I would choose to go with him all over again.”
As you walk through your room you’re running your hands through the flat surfaces and crevices. Slight shadows of the items that had been here, you thumb over them sadly.
“No, you don’t need to pick me up- I can take a taxi, I promise.” You slightly chuckle, he doesn’t think he’s heard you laugh like that in a long time. “Of course I’m coming to see you first, who do you think I am?”
You stop before a stash of snacks you always had to share with some of the association, to share with Geto.
“I can’t wait.”
“What are we doing here?” Geto quietly asks, though he knows why.
“Keep listening.” Misato insists.
You’re turning your profile slightly to the side and oh…you have never looked more beautiful in his eyes. Even with the slight swelling around your eyes. “Why I did it?”
Geto feels his heart race.
“Because I love him, of course.”
Geto feels his heart drop.
He wanted to reach out to you.
He wanted to hold you.
And you’re sighing as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had just been lifted off of your shoulders, as if you hadn’t just uttered a sentence that had slid the world out from underneath his feet. You turn back to your feet and say, “I honestly think I’ve got everything covered but I need to buy your Christmas gift still and—”
And it just sounds like everything is underwater now.
Geto turns to Riko in a panic- “But I didn’t even touch the-”
“Don’t be greedy, old man.” She knits her brows and pretends to be cross, before breaking out into such a sad smile. “It’s time, Geto.”
And before Geto knows it, she’s lunging forwards and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. He doesn’t feel it, and he doubts she does either, considering the way her otherworldly arms seem to glide right through him.
But to him, it’s enough.
“Thank you, Geto Suguru.” Riko whispers, audible even above the pressure of bubbles and water and something mystical roaring in his ears. It increases and increases. It swings his body around. “For everything.”
Misato pats him the same way on the shoulder, “You will do great, Geto-san.”
He looks up at the two with tears in his eyes, movements slow as if he was engulfed in a bathtub right now. “Thank—”
Before the glass seems to shatter, and suddenly he can do nothing.
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
But the sort of light grey where it was the sun peeking out tentatively through the clouds as though a harried mother with a lantern: knocking on doors, calling out in garbled vain, seeking help from anyone that could help her find her missing son.
But he’d been long buried.
Geto Suguru stands before a grave.
He doesn’t know which cemetery this is - certainly nothing in Tokyo, nothing near where he’d buried his parents’ bodies himself. Just as he had killed them. It seems rather to be some sort of unmarked patch of land, where even the memories of souls went to die. Deader than dead. Darker than night. Done deal.
He looks around in alarm and finds that he wasn’t alone, beside him but unknowing that they were: Gojo Satoru, Shoko Ieri, Masamichi Yaga, and you. All of you with the surroundings to your eyes swollen and the whites within all red.
He could tell you all had been crying.
Yet another tear slips from behind Gojo’s mask.
You’re sobbing into your hands.
Gojo rests an arm around your shoulder and brings you soothingly to him, to which Geto can’t believe that he feels that stab of selfish jealousy. He wants to touch you. He wants to touch you. He wanted to touch you.
He’s wrenching his eyes away from the tragic sight and surveying his surroundings - it really was a dead place. Dreadful. It wouldn’t have been made more joyous a setting had it been a birthday celebration thrown there instead. Behind the solitary tree in the distance that stuck out like a spindly hand from the ground was Nanako and Mimiko, watching the procession hidden.
He wonders why they were—behind him, a hooded figure.
Nothing but a shadow grown from his own. He could see no face, he could feel no emotion, he could feel no warmth. So this must be the ghost of his future.
Even in the distance, he could smell the metal tang of mortals without cursed energy milling about with their lives. Humans.
“Spirit…” Geto rasps out, somewhat shocked that his voice was working in the first place. “Who is the man lying in this grave?”
There’s a sudden crash! of thunder as if the sky was collapsing in on itself. There’s a sudden gale of wind as if the world itself was howling in laughter at his question- and Geto’s thrown against the sheer force of it, just as the hooded figure’s skeletal hand stretches out and points directly at the emotionless gravestone. Blank.
Words write themselves into the stony slab, in a script that only Geto seemed to be able to see - for no one in the funeral procession moved an inch.
It writes—
Geto Suguru.
“No…” Geto’s voice leaves him. He whirls around to face the masked figure, “It’s me- it’s me—and yet, why show me the memories of my past and present if I am to die? Why give me false hope that I may change?”
And with another clap of thunder, the rest of the writing reveals itself.
Born: 3rd of February, 1990.
“I am not the man I was-” Geto seethes, feeling as though his sanity was starting to slip him. The spectre doesn’t show any sign of hearing his pleas, he fights against the icy winds. “I am not the man I once was and I demand you answer my one question- are these the shadows of things that may be? Or the shadows of things that will be?”
Until the storm trundles its last line.
Died: 24th of December—
Geto feels his blood run cold.
Tonight. He was to die tonight.
He blinks again and none of you all are here, the only thing that greets him is the sight of the ground splitting up where his grave was meant to be—opening up for him. A gaping abyss. A maw of death. Its splintering reaches the tips of his very feet, and the dark-haired man stumbles precariously- struggling not to fall inside-
A bony hand on his shoulder steadies him. Death-cold.
Geto looks back slowly as the ghost of his future tugs back on his hood.
To reveal the spitting image of…Geto Suguru. His mirror reflection, if a little more menacing, with a strange line of stitches decorating the top of his forehead. It was himself.
And it was he who pushes himself into the grave.
He who sees the shreds and snippets of more grief, and new students, and a pink-haired boy with immense power much like his, and a shutdown in Shibuya, the deaths of his daughters, something a far greater danger than he was, you running into Gojo’s arms once he’s unsealed, more grief, grief, grief, grief, death, death, death, death, death.
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
He wakes up in a cold sweat to the light of the hallway, Nanako and Mimiko who had arrived to wake him up in time for his attack.
The first thing that Geto Suguru does after waking up from death is hug his daughters long and tight and promise them that everything will be okay. The second thing he does is cancel his plans to wage war on all non-sorcerers.
The third thing he does is run to your room.
.
.
.
You’d walked all the way up to your door with your packed bags when Geto Suguru had flung it open.
Your eyes snap down to the creaking door hinges—you were sure you’d locked it shut earlier in the night. Unsure you could handle more of this very man you loved walking inside.
But here he was.
Towering at your door frame.
Heaving hard enough that this breath tickles your face.
Looking as if he’d just seen a ghost-
“S-Suguru?” You ask with bated breath, and he’s snapping his eyes up to meet yours in an instant. The pure animal thrill that runs down your spine barely even has the time to register before Geto’s predatory body lunges towards you-
Your bags are on the floor.
Your knees are hitting your bed.
Falling backwards with Geto’s feverish body on top of yours.
Pouncing on you like an animal that’d just cornered his prey, gasping straight into the crook of your neck. He noses down the column of your throat and driiiiiiinks you in, mouth watering at the mere scent of you. “Please-” It’s a garbled, choked up groan that sends zaps of electricity straight to where your pussy was growing wet. “Please let me-”
“Yes—” You’re breathing out, heart hammering at your chest. You weave your fingers into Geto’s sweaty black locks like all those years ago, “Yes yes yes-”
“Fuck.” And he flinches as if your very confirmation sets his entire body on fire.
Rapid, ravenous fire. In absolutely no time, Geto’s shoving you further up the bed with his pawing hands and spreading your shaky legs wide open.
You never realized he was just so strong until you had both of Geto Suguru’s roughened hands pinning your thighs to the mattress. Unmoving even a single inch with him. Merciless.
You were in this cute lil’ skirt that you’d thrown on right before leaving, and he’s rip-rip-riiiiiipping it straight off of you with absolutely no care or concern as to whether the noise would echo out until the other association members would hear.
Throwing it somewhere over his shoulder, he’s pinning your shifting hips down and shoving his pretty face nose-deep into your clothed cunt. “M-mmmpf! Suguru-”
“Wanted to do this for so long.” He rasps out, voice just a slightly higher pitch as if he himself couldn’t believe it. Geto isn’t using his tongue on you immediately, he’s sticking the prominent line of his nosebridge between the crevice of your cunt and simply spending his time sniffing at your wet pussy.
Just so filthy.
You gasp as you feel the cold breeze of him taking in your dewy scent and groaning at the perfume of it. “Wh-what are you-”
“Wanted to do this for so long.” Merely repeating, you’re then shut up by the vertical sensation of his nose rubbin’ up and down that sopping slit. Aaaaaall the way from the bottom to the top where your throbbing clit was. Letting the sheeny wetness of your juices seep right through your panties and drench him already, “For so long for so long f-for—”
And then a speck of your slick falls into his mouth, and the very first time Geto’s tasting your pussy he’s stuttering. Voice breaking.
The Geto Suguru who could hold speeches before the tens of thousands in his association without a hitch - he was tasting your pussy through your drenched underwear and going absolutely speechless. Thoughtless.
Simply moving on pure animal instinct as he bites down on the thin fabric with a snarl- tearing right through your panties to get to your naked pussy. Exposing it all for him to see and admire and spit down on.
Exposing it all for him to lean down and press a hot, open-mouthed kiss on top—mwah!
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
And the fourth is what it takes for Geto to reach his limit and shove the tip of his pinkish wet tongue between your swollen pussylips. Like two more puckered lips kissin’ him back, Geto’s moaning primally at the back of his throat the moment he feels your tight hole start to squeeze him—so tight that he might not even fit-
“Wanted to f-fit inside so badly.” He gasps out thickly, drool glimmering down either side of his lips. You almost have half the mind to ask whether Geto Suguru was pussydrunk already, “Always dreamt about fitting inside your pussy like this-”
“F-fuuuuck, Suguru.” You’re whining, back throwing in the air into the perfect curvature.
And Geto only holds down one side of your hips and keeps you pinned down to his face, using your bouncy flinches to fuck your pussy back down on his face. “Always wondered how tight you’d squeeze me. Always wondered what it’d f-feel like to have you ngh- wet on my face like this-”
“You seriously have the filthiest mouth—” You gasp, blinking down at him through your tears. “What do you even mean ‘always’-”
“Always.” He emphasizes, leveraging your hips down to drag against his attractive features. It leaves a snail-trail of glittery slick that drips down the point of his nose- and Geto feels your velvety walls clench down on his tongue in resistance one last time before he’s fishing his tongue back out.
Making you shiver with the sudden emptiness, you’re just starting to miss his hot girth inside of you before his fingertips come back down—smack! Soothing over the sting that makes you yelp, he hisses out as if the strike had hurt a part of him as well. “Always being…” You wait for his answer with your heart thundering at your throat (and your pussy). “-since I ever even knew what eatin’ out a pussy was.”
“Oh—” You’re blubbering out stupidly when Geto ruthlessly pulls your pussylips aside with his two fingers.
Stretchin’ your hole out to take his fat tongue with absolutely no practice- merely letting his slimy crown slip inside before bashing and bashing every inch of your walls he could reach. “Always wanted it to be- hah, you- your pussy.” Geto’s blabbering out between every rapidfire thrust of his tongue, grunting between every breath as if moving away to even breathe was painful. “Ridin’ my face just like this, mmmmm.”
The most lecherous slurps! and sounds kept on pouring out of you - ones that you didn’t even know were possible for you to make.
It rings out in the cozy bedroom like a backtrack that he wanted to record as his favorite song - his girl’s pussy. “Yeahhh, always wanted to get that pussy o’ yours to speak up t’me- heh.” Pistoning your tight channel with his rugged tongue, “Always wanted to let my tongue speak fer itself. Always wanted to memorize all your pussy’s sweetest spots just right.”
Just then you’re hiccuping as he swabs a spot besides a particular bundle of nerves, making sobs clog up in your throat. “O-oh, Suguru!”
“Yeah- always wanted to have you moan my name like that, ngh.” Grumbling out, the tips of his long canines end up snagging on your tender folds and making you sob. “Always wanted—fuck.”
A pin-pricking sensation that made you gush out in even more arousal against his face, drenching him all the way down to the bedsheets. “Suguru, I think you’re getting exactly what you wanted-”
“Not quite.” He growls out, and your mind gets thrown into a frenzy by the sheer amount of vibrations travelling up from your treacly cunt. Geto stares you deeply in the eyes with his dark, dilated pupils as he finishes off—“If I could have it exactly how I wanted it, then every man before me would be here and watching just how much I ruin you, gorgeous.”
The very tip of his flexible tongue just grazes your g-spot and makes you cry out, “You’re almost there- a-almost there, just a bit to the left-”
“I know.” Geto grins - and you can feel it against your sopping wet lips. “You think I didn’t read up on this years before?”
And in absolutely no time, Geto has his tongue plunging back out of your snug channel- though, not without a few more pushes n’ pulls that leave you reeling. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to part with his greedy maw with your pussy just yet.
Before completely spittin’ on your cunt and shoving two of his slender fingers inside your hole.
It’s a direct hit. Gliding all down your walls before you’re finally ending up with the cult leader’s knobbly fingertips pushin’ down on your g-spot as if it was nothing but a cute button for him to toy with. “I’ve always wanted to eat this fuck- pussy of yours out, and you think I didn’t do a little bit of reading up?” He’s gurgling out, lips plastering onto your clit. “Of course I did- of course I did.”
“You did you did—!” You’re whining out, your jaw dropping straight down to hit your chest with the way he had you fucked stupid with his fingers.
And he seriously did.
His honed digits were drag-drag-draaaagging viciously back and forth, letting the curves of his joints massage your velvety walls whilst he hit your nerves constantly like a target. “Always wanted to be the best this cunt’s ever- ngh, kissed. Always wanted t-to mark my spot out so you can feel me messin’ up your pretty insides even when m’not eating you out. Always wanted to eat you out until I’ve lapped every other man away from inside you-”
“Y-you don’t have to worry about them, Suguru.” You gasp out, face twitching with pleasure when that only makes him plunge and pull his lengthy fingers even harder in response.
And Geto knows you’re simply talking about anyone else simply in response to his own words - but that doesn’t stop the irrational stab of jealousy. He attempts to fuck you dumb, but you’re stubbornly digging the feels of your feet into the sheets and bucking. “You don’t have to worry about a single one because-”
“Because—?”
“They’ve never made me cum.”
Oh.
Oh.
And you’ve never quite felt anything like the way that the utterly ruined look in Geto’s eyes made you feel. A zap of something carnal shuddering down your spine.
Before Geto’s tuggin’ his hand back to pry aside your soaked pussylips- before he’s pursuing his now-swollen lips and spitting- before he’s filling up every single orifice inside of you by thrusting back in not just two, not even three, but four of his incredible fingers.
You’re shrilling out at the stretch that makes you see stars behind your lids, pupils swirling within the whites of your eyes.
And Geto’s dark brows knit together, a thin line of sweat trailing between them as he gluttonously stares down at the way your hole was just stretched so wiiiiiide-wide-wide for him. “Fit.” He spits through a growl, “Fucking fit-”
“S’going in—” You’re mewling out, your head throwing back into pillows that were now drenched with your sweat. “Oh- oh my god, it’s going in-”
“Want it to.” Geto echoes out broken fragments of his usual mantra, “Need it to- I’ve been talking s’much about what I want, but this is what I need.” He just sounded so desperate—a man begging with his shattered throat.
He’s lavishing his tongue down along the slit of your pussy and rollin’ sweetly over your clit- making the sharp bolts of pleasure shock you into taking him inch by solid inch. Only faintly aware in his mind that you were struggling to take his sheer size, “Always wanted you to take f-four of my fingers. My lucky number. Always wanted you to fit all of my- ngh- dick—”
“Wha’s that gotta do with fitting four fingers, Suguru?” Stupidly questioning, your head lolling from side to side as he ruts from within.
And for that your naughty pussy gets a gooood spank.
“How else would you fit my cock inside if you can’t even fit my fist?”
And was he fitting his—no, you’re finding out that that was all just a tactic to disarm you into looking down. Into locking sights with your glistening wet pussy in the exact moment that Geto Suguru shovels all four of his fingers inside with just the loudest, most lecherous sound.
He’s on your cunt immediately- lapping up every stray bead of slick that sprays out of you, sliding his puffy lips down your slit and at your gooey orifice where you were taking his mean fingers, gluing ‘round your clit and sucking.
Geto’s handsome cheeks hollow around that sensitive nub and you sob, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face. “Sh-shit- Suguru, I don’t think m’gonna last too long…”
To that he doesn’t even answer.
Only increasing his sloppy ministrations until you can barely even keep a grip on his hair-
His free hand reaches out to hold you down onto his scalp- almost as if he was telling you to go wild using him. “You want me to…” He merely nods at your wobbly question, nose crinkling in carnal amusement at the surprised look on your face. Grabbing two handfuls of Geto’s long, beautiful hair you’re using it as leverage to properly fuck your honeyed cunt back, back, back into him. “Please- p-please let me cum-”
As if he’d do anything but.
Anything but eat your pussy out like a madman. Drilling every inch of his fingers inside you and swervin’ those calloused buds around and around. Smoothing out each tiny crevice. Bruising them. Letting them memorize the pattern of his unique fingerprint—
With a few more vulgar strokes, you’re finally toppling over the edge of your high. “Cumming-” You sing out, your bed creaking in synchronization with the way you were rutting back needily onto his face. “Cumming cumming cumming-” Chasing your high.
“Mmmm—” Geto’s purposefully moaning around your clit and making your body shake with your orgasm. “Always wanted-”
“Yes yes yes-” Hiccuping through your tears, your heartbeat thumps away in your ears. It felt like every droplet of blood in your body had amplified and suddenly you were about to burst with pressure.
“Always wanted to-”
Tears roll uncontrollably down your cheeks at the way he somehow managed to strike your g-spot precisely during the peaks of your orgasm- making the waves of bliss last longer and overtake you. “Yes- keep going keep going-”
“Always wanted to make you cum a second time in my mouth.”
You gasp, “What?”
But the only answer you’re getting is Geto’s strong arms manhandling you deeper against his face and lashing his slick-glazed fingers into your deepest depths. Zig-zagging inside. Scissoring two by two apart so your cunt’s stretched out like never before.
These prolonged digits were just so stretched in your dewy juices by now that it made it easy for Geto to move them back and forth at a blurring pace. “Always wanted it-” He gasps, that sinful mantra again that you knew didn’t bode well for your sanity. “Always wanted to have you o-overstimulated enough that you- mmm, cry.”
“But I already am-”
“Overstimulated enough that you can’t even remember your own name—”
“Oh, fuck…” You whimper.
Though you were slowly getting there with each ravenous rut of Geto’s digits. As he’s pinning you down and fishing your most delicate spots with his fingers, you feel those spit-slicked lips of his wrap around your clit. “And you only hafta- mmm-” He groans out against that sensitive nub, the mushy tip of his tongue drawing out what seemed like an obvious ‘G.S.’ on your clit. “-remember my name- because s’what you’ll be taking, anyway.”
And you don’t even realize that you’re crashing right into your second high of the night until Geto’s eyes seem to light up. A soft chuckle leaving him-
“Always knew you could do it.” He fingers you ruthlessly through that one, too. Puckered fingerpads ending up at your g-spot between each wave of bliss, almost glued there. “Always knew- fuck. And what’s your name, gorgeous?”
“M-my name?” You’re babbling out eyes dazed and merely taking the oncoming pleasure.
“Mhmm—your name, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit with his free hand, “Now.”
“I can’t…” Pouting out in a way that he just found too cute, “I can’t seem to remember-” Your mind was truly hazed, sparking uselessly and registering nothing but the feeling of his fingers and mouth. Just too good.
“Oh, you’re dumbified alright-” He titters, finally letting go of your treacly cunt once he feels your high bate. Geto removes his mouth with a soppy mwahhhh- “My poor girl can’t even remember her own name- s’alright, I’ll teach you.”
You squirm, “Y-you will?”
“Yeah.” Geto pins your restless hips down and raises himself - face all flushed and lacquered with a clingy few layers of your sap. It dribbles down the edge of his chin as he kisses you firmly on the mouth, “Say it w’me now-”
“Mhm—”
“Mrs. Geto Suguru.” At least you would be in the future he’s creating.
Oh, he was just mean. And you’re whining helplessly into the kiss when he bites down on your lower lip with his sharp canines, blubbering some jumbled repetition of—“M-mrs. Geto- ngh, Suguru.”
“My good girl.”
Geto pulls away and finally starts shedding the rest of his clothing- to which you motion to try and do the same for yourself, but he’s merely stopping your hands then and there. Then and there teeeearing down that t-shirt of yours that was really his, and unhooking your bra with a single motion behind your back-
“S-seriously, what’s gotten into you tonight, Suguru?” You’re gasping out as the cold night air hits your exposed body and makes your nipples harden.
He’s placing two singular kisses on both your tits before answering, “Let’s just say, mmm, I saw the future.”
“Saw the future?” You gape - could someone really get this pussydrunk? Maybe he’d actually gone mad…“Suguru, are you oka-”
“No.” Taking care of the robes that he’d worn to bed, you’re realizing that Geto wasn’t wearing underwear once he discards of that singular soft layer. And it wasn’t exactly a secret that Geto Suguru was positively chiselled - you knew that sort of vigorous strength and agility training that he did. Had to do.
So it was not much of a surprise to you once you see his firmly toned pecs, flinching slightly at the cold. His washboard abs. His meaty thighs. His Herculean body that was covered in a thin film of sweat that made him look almost otherworldly.
You’re not even done gawking at the muscular rest of him before a sudden glimmer of creamy precum makes your gaze drop down to…his cock.
Standing upright.
Rock-hard and veiny.
The most furious red shade on his tip.
The excess of his precum coating him n’ all his veins in a glistening sheen.
The slightest tufts of messy black at his base, from which Geto’s greedy balls throbbed. He was so hard that it looked like it physically hurt. That globular tip of his smacked the front of his abs and left a splotchy wet smear that you almost wanted to lick away, and you’re mindlessly reaching forwards to do so when-
“And did you know what I saw in the future, gorgeous?” Geto’s gruff voice startles you out of your little reverie, making you shake your head ‘no’. He then places two hands on your hips to drag you down the bed and meet his toned hips, “Well- heh, I can’t really tell you that yet, my girl. But I’ll tell you what I didn’t see…”
Your mind was absolute mush and you’re trilling. “Wh-what was that, Suguru?”
“You. Pregnant.”
He puckers his red, thickened cockhead against your hole. Slightly rutting against it like an animal.
“So how about we fix that?”
And then he’s pumping in just the first inch of his thiiiick reddened cock, making your plush hole stretch out into the same wide ‘o’ that he was fucking your cunt into. His bulging tip. The meanest kiss.
Geto feels the hotness of your pussy clench ‘round him and grooooans, letting his head fall in front of him to cover the two of you with his inky black hair like a curtain. “O-oh.” His entire heaving body wracks with shivers, as if merely the first feeling of your cunt broke him. Goosebumps prickle across every inch of his skin. Cock pulsating inside you a mile a minute. “Fuck, your pussy’s so good. Your pussy’s so good I almost forgot how badly I wanted to do this-”
“Do what—oh.” The words are barely out of your mouth before Geto’s hands are on you.
Like never before, he’s gripping your thighs so hard that it’s almost painful. Feeling his neat crescent nail marks embed against your skin, “Put you…” Geto trails off in his gruff tone, breath hitching any time he was half-rutting inside. Just probin’ with his swollen erection, “In a liiiiittle something called a…”
“In a…” But you already know what he’s trying to say.
Because Geto’s strong arms are on you in an instant. Flexing and bulging any time he’s moving you ‘round as if you were nothing but a ragdoll.
He rests both your tired thighs on top of his broad shoulders, tapping one of them on the sides. “Lock those ankles f’me…mmm, good.” Bending you all the way dooooown in half until your joints pop with pressure and the caps of your knees are hitting your tits. “Bend all the way like thaaaat- in half now, in half.”
“I am I am-” You hiccup. And though he hadn’t even bottomed out, this made Geto’s blushin’ tip stab deep enough that you nearly feel him in your throat.
Just fucking and fucking and fucking you.
Quickly, sloppy ruts just to fit himself inside.
With a low chuckle, he’s lacing both hands atop your sweaty crown. “Mhm- and fuck- y’know what this is called? Always wanted to put you in one of these, gorgeous- y’know it? It’s called a—”
“M-mating press.” You mewl out.
And Geto’s roughly stroking out a thrust that makes you see stars, “And who taught you that, hm?” He’s hissing out between clenched canines, something in his tone that sends shivers down your spine. “Some other man put you in one of- hah, these?”
Your eyes nearly bulge out of your damn skull, “N-no, never! That’s not how I-”
“Fuckin’ good.” He rumbles out, leaning down to catch your lips in a sultry, sultry kiss. But Geto was just feeling so mean at this very moment that he’s snagging your lower lip with his teeth and dragging. “And it better stay that way because I’m the one tha’s been wanting to breed this pretty pussy for so long-”
“I know, Suguru, I know.” You sob out—tears freefalling down your cheeks faster than you could even register them due to the sheer size of him - and the fact that your sultry pussylips couldn’t stop simply suckin’ him in. “Fuck you’re going in so deep- c-can almost feel you at my-”
“Cute lil’ womb, right?”
And you’re hearing Geto Suguru bottom out inside you before you’re actually registering it using your muddled brain. It’s with the sloppiest squeeeelch! that all his veiny nine inches are sucked up to the bottom of your pussy.
All of him throbbing inside you.
The very lining of your cervix is being banged by his rounded red tip, drivelling out slick deep at your core. “H-heh…” Geto’s letting out a drunken giggle, somehow angling his hips so that his pointed cockhead moves in circular motions. Making you feel him eeeeeverywhere in your awaiting womb, “I hope you know that I’m a jealous man, my girl.” He’d be damned if he let any other man fuck you full of his cum first. “And I’ve claimed this pretty womb first.”
Your jaw drops, “Like you’ve always wanted to?”
“Like I’ve always wanted to.” He grins, something so sleazy that you never thought you’d see on his pretty, pretty face.
And without hesitation, Geto’s dragging and dragging all the way back out to…pull out?
You’re opening your eyes in confusion, your disappointed noise barely out of your lips before Geto’s fully thrusting back in. Red tip to thick base.
Again. And again. And again and again-
He’s fucking into you like a madman, simply pointed swipes of his cock trying to find your sweetest spots. It’s with no issue that he’s stretchin’ out every line and crevice along those soft walls of yours, letting the sheer thickness of his shaft rub up against your nerves.
The patterns of his veins sending white-hot stars sparking up your spine, tears beading at the corners of your eyelids. “Yes- fuck, it feels so good.”
“Mmm, you like that?” Geto’s gasping out, the edges of his kiss-swollen lips twitching up into a smirk. He’s almost immediately getting his answer, however, by the way your sopping wet pussy only seems to glisten out in even more wads of slick.
Slipping in miry ribbons down the slit of your cunt and getting smeared on his thick base. He drawls out, “Yeahhh, f-feels good, doesn’t it? Ngh- I’ve always wanted to hit this pussy’s cervix. I’ve always wanted to let this womb of yours know that I’m gonna be the one to breed her all full—me.”
Because god fucking dammit he might’ve seen the worst possible outcome of his entire life in his future, one that he himself had barely even entertained prior. But fuck- if he isn’t going to do everything in his power to make sure that he makes of his future what he wants it to be.
If he isn’t going to make sure that he has you in it.
And if a little bundle of chaos with his hair and your smile was in the picture as well, then, that only made his daydreams all the more sweeter.
Fuck, he never realized how badly he wanted it.
A baby—to fuck you so full of his baby. He’s pinpointing every single spot inside you with his massive tip, more and more of the black-haired man’s precum escaping from your hole by the second.
Almost unthinkingly, Geto lifts a hand off of your scalp and grunts- “Don’t think of running now, gorgeous.” Before bringing his slightly roughened palm down the front of your core, resting right over where his thick tip bulged your pussy’s walls. Your cervix. Your womb. “Fuck- I’ve always wanted- here-”
“What was that, Suguru?” Slightly taken aback at how the ever-eloquent Geto Suguru was having a hard time keeping his sentences coherent.
He presses down firmer above your stomach, feeling himself as he sinks iiiiiiiin and out of your cunt. Almost slowing down until you could feel every sensual texture of his cock, “Right here.” The pressure was almost incredible with the addition of his hand, “Right here- s’the spot. I’ve always wanted to fill you up until every woman, man, person, animal in-between could take one look at you and know what I’ve done to you.”
“O-ohhhh my god—” Whatever little response was on the tip of your tongue is instantly being swallowed up by your uncontrollable moans.
Escaping out of you whenever Geto funnels his achin’ cock harder, deeper, more sinfully in. Escaping out of you when Geto simply reached over and pinched your poor neglected clit.
He doesn’t feel a single inkling of regret as he tug on that cute lil’ knob between your pussylips whilst he fucks you, “I’ve always wanted to see what you’d look like with my- ngh, cum spilling out of you because your poor pussy can’t take it. And have others try to imagine what it looks like.”
“There’s already so much-” You’re wailing out at the feeling of such heaps of syrup splosh out between your legs as if a waterpark.
And Geto’s taking just one look between them and snickering to himself, “Even more, gorgeous.” The way he said it made you realize that it wasn’t just a promise - to him it was a challenge. And he was ploughing right on, “So much more- so much more. Enough to end up with you all round and glowing and they’ll know that I did it. I filled you up like that. I did it I did it I did it-”
“Suguru, p-pleeeease—”
“They need to know that you’re mine.” He rasps out, his pinkish divot ending up shot straight against your g-spot. Hitting that particular area of sensitivity perfectly, “You were mine then. You’re mine now. And you’ll be mine in the future.” Your cunt suffering from the brutal slashes of his mushroomy tip after each word, the breaths between spaces being filled up with his accurate thrusts. “And if I fuck you pregnant that’s all they’re gonna be thinking about, isnt it?”
Fuck, it almost felt like he was going insane.
With every word out of his mouth, with every gluey wad of pre he was emptying out into your womb. Not only did that glimpse into the future make him want to avoid it—now he simply couldn’t have a future for himself if it didn’t include you, his daughters, and this all-new addition to the Geto lineage. He wonders who his third daughter would take after more.
“H-hope s’gonna be your pretty eyes and your smile- always wanted a daughter with that beautiful smile.” Geto muses out, holding you even tighter in this mating press. It felt like all the blood was rushing to your head, and you could feel your stomach starting to spark with an all-new high.
“Oh please-” You start to sputter out, “Suguru, m’gonna c-cum again soon-”
“So do it then.” He certainly wasn’t gonna stop you - especially not after that old wives’ tale he heard that the wife had to cum, too, in order for a baby to be conceived.
And Geto wasn’t taking any chances here.
He was twisting his fingers even more fervently on your clit, and bashin’ your g-spot so many times that you’re sure it’s starting to bruise. “I know it- I just know it.” He babbles on, more pussydrunken than ever. “I just know it, gorgeous, if m’ever seeing my future again then it’s gonna be with you—”
“Suguru…” You mewl tearily, feeling a lump at your throat where his rounded tip seemed to be plummeting straight through to your lungs.
“You and my three daughters. On Christmas eve. Around the Christmas tree. Opening up presents we wrapped the night before-” Just as he imagines it, his strawberry-red tip spurts out a few warm ribbons of slick that splosh! around your channel. Keeping his hand pressed to your womb and humming, “With another one on the way, hm?”
You gawk, “Y-you’re insatiable.”
“That I am.”
And Geto doesn’t even realize the way his body instinctively pours out reverse cursed energy into yours to keep you from fucking breaking underneath his strength.
From fucking passing out as he’s rutting ferally harder and harder.
The bed groans heavily at the movements of his hulking body.
Leaning in so close now that you could feel the skin of your face start to perspire because of his breaths. Geto’s forehead pressed against yours, Geto’s cocktip pressed against the end of your cervix “Hope she’s gonna love her pretty momma just as- haaaah, I do.”
And then you’re crash-landing into your high without warning, without any signal from your own body that you were going to do so. It zips through your veins at lightning speed, completely taking over your brain until it felt all fuzzy and fried.
Toes curling.
Back arching.
He fucks you through this nth high of the night just as sinfully as he did with all the others - just as perfectly. Somehow swabbin’ your gooey crevices right on time with the peaks of your euphoria, he manages to pump his plump tip towards your g-spot and your womb at a dizzying pace.
At a pace that leaves you cockdrunk.
Your body twitches with the twinges of pleasure, sobbing. “Please-” You’re wrapping your arms around Geto’s neck, pushing his inky locks slightly to the side. “I love you too, Suguru.”
And that’s all it takes for Geto to also grit his teeth and let his throat rip with a guttural groan as he finally cums. Exploding out in white-hot pleasure and in the gooey white wads that occupy the space within your tight cunt. There was simply so much of it that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, his loooooooong miry ribbons splashin’ against the roof of your cunt and dribblin’ down every orifice possibly inside you. “Fuck, don’t even say that.” His voice was octaves higher by this point, completely maddened. “Don’t even—oh, don’t even know what you do to me.”
“I’ve always wanted to tell you.” You’re taking his own chant from him.
And that only makes his heavy balls throb even harder, as if he was emptying out all his ivory syrup and still wished there was more.
Despite the constant overflow from your hole, a sheeny circle escaping down your thighs and gluing the skin together- at least, it would have had it not been for Geto’s fingertips scooping up that slick glaze and pushing it back inside your cunt.
The doughy tips of his fingers curl against your elastic hole and make you shiver- still so sensitive from your ongoing high. Not that Geto even hesitates before putting his all into fucking you through his own—pounding every wad of his seed inside you. His cock glazes with even more slick, making slipping inside you even easier. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.” And he titters to himself as if there was a joke there that you didn’t entirely understand, “And I would ask for n-no sweeter death, my girl…” Was that a tear running down his cheek?
You’re pressing your forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut. You still shook with the tremors of your orgasm, but still managed to keep your tone even. “I’d never ask for that, Suguru.”
“I know.”
Outside, it was a dark night greeting the 25th of December.
.
.
.
24th of December, Christmas Eve (one year later).
“Hurry hurry, all according to plan—!” Your voice calls out across the cozy Tokyo apartment, slightly muffled by the pile of gifts you carried that was as tall as you.
Geto’s taking one look at your teetering self and chuckling, “Here- let me take that from you, gorgeous.” As handsome as ever. A Santa hat on his head.
And though you admit that it was an incredible relief to your arms to have your husband take the burden of the gifts, you can’t help but sweep a glance over the apartment. Pondering out loud about all the other tasks that were supposed to be done before 7PM- “But, Suguru, let me! You worry about getting all the stockings ready-”
“Already stuffed to the brim, my girl.” He winks at you, and you suddenly feel too hot underneath your appallingly ugly Christmas sweater (it had been a gift from Yaga, how could you not have worn it tonight?)
You raise a suspicious brow, “Everyone’s? Ours, Nanako’s, Mimiko’s, and the baby’s?”
What a spoiled little girl! Only three months old and already having a Christmas stocking larger than her own self, Geto wants to say - but doesn’t. He knows he’s just as guilty as you in spoiling your three daughters, “Ours, Nanako’s Mimiko’s, and the baby’s, and Satoru’s- you know how he gets when he sees candy that’s not for him.”
“You’re right.” You agree, “And what about setting the table-”
“Done.”
“Getting the twins to clean their rooms-”
“Done.”
“Finishing decorating the Christmas tree-”
“Done.”
“Oh! How about finally setting that letter of confirmation for your post as new teacher at Tokyo Jujustu-”
“Done. Done. Aaaaand done.” Geto smiles, setting the gifts down underneath the table in a way that seemed so effortless. It must be the training, how unfair! When he’s standing back up again it’s with an arm thrown around your shoulder, the both of you admiring the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree you’d set up as a family.
Its lights sparkled like miniature suns, like candles from a night unforgettable. Customized baubles of marine animals and ocean-blue. The portraits of friends and family lost. “We’ve done everything, gorgeous. Now we only wait for them to get here.”
“It’s beautiful, Suguru.” You respond, and he only pulls you closer.
Resting his cheek against the top of your head, “I know.”
Nanako and Mimiko were still getting ready for the Christmas party and you knew you had to fetch them soon before the guests got here, you knew you also had to wake the baby up from her nap to get her into the Christmas festivities with everyone else, you also knew you had to check on some of the fruit tarts right now, you knew you had to congratulate Geto properly on finally earning his position as a third-year teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High after many examinations and meetings with the elders. After many days spent proving his change.
It had been tough, you admit. In many ways.
But you were here.
But, for now, you two simply bask in each other.
You’re not sure how long it is before the doorbell rings and you’re forced apart.
“We should…get the door.” You say.
“Mhm, we should.” And he kisses you.
“Santa’s kissing mommy, totally gross!” Nanako calls out as she passes the two of you, finally finished getting ready and heading to the kitchen to snag some desserts before it was actually time.
Mimiko follows with your cooing third daughter in hand, “Don’t look unless you want your spirit of Christmas to be scarred for life.” She tells the near-infant seriously.
“Come now, you two.” Geto sighs, shaking his head like the father he was.
You’re giggling softly up at him until the bell rings once again- before immediately starting to get rung at an annoying staccato. Gojo. Then immediately stopped as if someone had just smacked his hand away from the bell. Shoko.
And you already knew by the two hefty sighs that Yaga and Nanami were there, too.
Stifling your giggle, you and Geto walk up to open the decorated front door. Both of you opening it in unison—
“Merry Christmas!”
A/N. Awww I just rewatched this movie the other day and it was too sweeeeet. Hope all of you are having a joyous season regardless of whether you celebrate or not <33
saturday nights in with your best friend satoru gojo are usually filled with watching star wars, playing roblox tycoons until you rage quit, & fighting back in asking to see his dick.
“excuse me?” his eyes widened, white lashes reaching up to his brows.
“you don’t have to, obviously. i was just wondering..” you said quietly, baiting him. which seemed to work because right after, a slight smirk was itching to be shown on his lips. “you curious or something?”
you hummed, leaning your head against the sofa. “yeah.” he was amused to say the least. you were usually shy despite being best friends, you’d never ever ask something like this to him. or so he thought. “well, it’s big enough. something that wont fit in you.”
his words made your stomach warm, forcing your legs to cross to prevent the potential sight of a wet spot forming in your sleeping shorts. “i think i can take it.”
“oh baby,” he pinched your cheek, playing into whatever this was. satoru was trying his best to hide his sudden excitement. it’s not every day he finally gets a chance to become more than just friends with you. rumors always spread around that the two of you were secretly dating but you’d always shut them down, getting upset that boys & girls (blur ref) could no longer be besties without being accused of liking each other. which was hypocritical on both your ends knowing your feelings for him and his for you were beyond just wanting to stay platonic.
“you want to find out?”
“can i?”
for a second, satoru freezes — breath hitching and heart beating a thousand miles an hour. then, he lets out a laugh, throwing his head back while hugging his stomach. “oh you’re for real.”
his reaction made yourself get embarrassed, making him straighten his position. “no no m’not making fun of you. i’m just surprised cuz, well, i’ve been dreaming of this for the past five years.”
“really?” you bit the inside of your cheek, avoiding eye contact. satoru nodded, leaning forward to force your eyes on his. “yeah.”
his eyes dropped down to your lap, thinking. “i’ve gotta prep you up first. i’m not lying when i say i don’t think it’s gonna fit in you.”
you nodded, already hooking your fingers under the waistband of your shorts. his hands stopped you shortly after, offering to undress you himself. you thought he’d be gentle, but it’s satoru gojo of course, he’s going to be rough.
“sato!” you squeaked when he pulled down your shorts, lifting your legs up to fully take them off. his pupils were blown wide when your cunt was out in the open, glistening with arousal under the lamp set next to you. “you asked,” he threw the clothing onto the floor. “don’t start crying now.”
his hands were on you again, separating your legs apart. he positioned himself to be face to face with your pussy, playfully blowing air on it just to watch you squirm.
“i thought you were gonna prep me..”
“well im fucking hungry.” he dragged a single finger in between your folds, collecting your wetness onto it. satoru brought it up to his lips, licking it clean. “you been eating pineapple?”
you couldn’t help but chuckle. “maybe.”
“figured. you taste better than i ever imagined.” he dips down to place a kiss onto your entrance, taking in a deep breath. your moans quickly filled the living room deliberately, trying your best to stay quiet. but that quickly ended when his tongue finally licked stripes on you. they were slow at first, fully savoring you. it traveled all the way up to your clit, sucking on it gently. your body arched, legs placing themselves on his back.
“you’re going too fast!” you yelled when he bit down. “you say that but your body is telling me something else.” he pulled back, spitting directly onto you.
“have you ever daydreamed about this? or was that just me.”
you nodded, observing the way your juices spilled down his chin. “why do you think i asked in the first place?”
he flashed all 32. “dirty girl.” with that, he returned back to his ‘meal.’ “you taste so good, could eat you out for hours.” he moaned. “you’re sweeter than konpeito.” his tongue didn’t stop lapping even when he inserted two fingers into you.
your fingers tangled themselves through his hair, not wanting this to stop. he let you, loving the way you had gotten confident. his dick hardened even more as you guided him to where you wanted him.
“fuck, are you close? you got tighter.” his fingers quickened up the pace, curling in deep.
“i t-think!” you stuttered, eyes fighting to stay open. his free hand snuck up under your shirt, squeezing at your breast. “go ahead.” he mumbled, opening his mouth wide to happily swallow your release.
with a gasp, you finished right on his tongue. your legs shook violently as he pulled away — not without a final kiss first. “good job baby. you okay?”
“please..” you whispered, not knowing how much longer you could go without having him inside you.
satoru grinned, sitting on his knees to take out his cock. “still think we should do more prepping.”
“i don’t care!”
“damn girl, how cock hungry are you.”
“very.”
he was already unzipping his pants as you said that, bringing you closer to his by your waist. he was nine inches at best, not surprising you one bit. you could feel yourself drooling at the way it twitched. “promise me something.” his voice dropped down to a soft whisper. “this won’t just be a one time thing. i mean it when i say i think about daily. i fucking love you. always have.”
for such a heated moment, your heart warmed. “i love you too sato.”
with that being said and a kiss being exchanged, satoru slammed half his length into you. a scream erupted from your throat, being silenced by the palm of his hand. “shit. quiet sweets.”
he wasn’t holding back, pounding into you at a harsh pace, pushing in inch by inch with every thrust.
“mmm you were made for this, made for me.” he removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with lips instead. the kiss was so tender, saying more than words could. his hips rollled into you in steady thrusts, taking in the way your moans spilled into his mouth.
just as you thought he was going to stop, he pushed all the way in, creating a prominent belly bulge in you.
“oh my fuck.” he pressed down your stomach, feeling himself from the outside. “yeah, you were made for me.
im extremely proud of this fic ! I feel like my smut has improved sm
Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.3k
A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.
An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father.
You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him.
“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”
“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”
Schwing!
They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon.
The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”
The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”
“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”
“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”
Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you?
Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”
He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”
Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”
---
SLAM!
You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.
Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-
Oh. Oh shit.
Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost.
What the fuck happened?
“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”
You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!
You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.
And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet.
Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”
And oh.
Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”
You weren’t making it out alive.
You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”
It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this.
Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”
It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”
And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.
“Satoru…” You pull his face back.
“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”
“Satoru.”
“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?”
And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy.
“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane.
“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”
But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him.
With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless.
Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?”
It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe.
“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”
And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.
“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!”
Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs.
You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.
But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.
“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”
You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”
And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids.
With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey.
“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!”
Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin.
“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”
A promise.
And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive.
Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt.
“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”
And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.
“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”
“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”
He was going too fast too soon.
You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”
Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”
As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily.
Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-
“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”
Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out.
Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”
Faster. Sloppier.
Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”
Oh.
Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point.
Because in a split-second, you’re cumming.
Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high.
And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him.
But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you.
Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too.
“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”
And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but.
Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers.
“Y-you’re so mean-”
“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”
You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting.
Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”
It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips.
“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”
“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”
And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea.
Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away.
You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock.
“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”
Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop.
So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is.
Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”
The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally.
Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.
“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already.
“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”
Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.
Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting.
And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock.
“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”
Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.
So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace.
A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”
But it wasn’t enough.
“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”
And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless.
Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more.
“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”
He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-
“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”
“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”
“Hm?”
He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name.
His perfect wife.
Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”
He was losing his fucking mind.
Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”
Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it.
Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too.
You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high.
Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt.
“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”
And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base.
“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”
You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard.
“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”
You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”
He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again.
A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”
So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily.
“Don’t know?”
Fuck. You said it out loud again.
And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you.
Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.
“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”
If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now.
Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid.
“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”
The only response you get is an unsteady nod.
“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.
Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white.
So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”
And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s.
“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say.
Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.
And, evidently, Satoru was, too.
“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-”
And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him.
If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”
“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”
“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”
It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.
But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”
He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”
You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit.
Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off.
And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you.
“Ngh- Fuck-”
With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”
You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.
“-the best- momma.”
A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that.
A bet is classic. What could be more fun than targeting a sweet girl and making her fall in love with the reputable campus fuckboy? Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with you.
fratboy!gojo x f!reader
notes: I have seen sooooo many ideas and tiktoks about the trope of reader being a bet & it always hurts so good! wanted to try it out and ofc it had to be with fratboy gojo >:)))
warnings: angst obvi hehehe, drinking, cursing, reader is super sweet and a bet obvi, no comfort or happy ending (yet? who knows), mentions of vomiting but doesn’t, mentions of blood, reader is never someone’s first choice:(( ummmm, gojo is an asshole ofc
Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!
Satoru knew he should've said no in the beginning, knew it wasn't worth it just to impress his friends- his stupid frat brothers who never took anything seriously. Never thought about the consequences of their actions.
Buuut the idea of the bet was just too good to turn down.
The effort, the build up, the dedication- it would all come together so perfectly, especially with you as the main star. With you being you, you were doomed from the start before the bet could even fully take shape.
Sweet little you. Shouldn't you have known better?
Going around, shamelessly wearing your heart on your sleeve, always spreading kindness on the darkest of days, looking and talking to people as if they genuinely mattered- and maybe to you, they actually did, even when they couldn't have cared less about returning the favor. Not that you ever expected anything in return.
And most importantly of it all? You were so understanding. Far too understanding for your own good. The debilitating type that had rooted itself early on as some sort of lousy defense mechanism and eventually morphed into something self destructive. Had you subconsciously constructing and molding subpar excuses to justify someone's behavior, especially when it was directed towards you.
Always being an overly empathetic thing, so willing to sacrifice and minimize your own feelings when it came to others, always softening their blow.
Were you desperate or something to get people to stay? So desperate that you had unintentionally turned yourself into a doormat that people could stomp all over?
Anybody could've told you that it was idiotic to try and see everyone at face value, to so naively believe the words people told you. But you could've argued the opposite.
It wasn't naivety. It was you, sweet and trusting you, determined to not let your past heartbreak change the way you viewed others, to not let it bias you, scare you, or haunt you. Despite having been constantly hurt, you refused to allow your past experiences make you question and doubt every. single. new. relationship.
Always trying to see the good in people.
It would have turned out great, perfectly actually. You had played your part with flying colors, just as expected, putting on the most spectacular, albeit unknown, performance. And Satoru? Well.
Things would have turned out great.
If he hadn't started falling in love with you.
But the show must go on.
“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.
Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.
One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.
But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.
You believed it all.
After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.
Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.
Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!
Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!
“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”
He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.
He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?
But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.
You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.
He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.
He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.
You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.
“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.
His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.
He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?
You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.
“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.
The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.
Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.
Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.
A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.
“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.
“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”
“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”
You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.
Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.
“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.
He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.
“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.
The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.
“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-
“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.
“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.
His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.
“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.
Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.
The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.
The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.
The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.
Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!
Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.
Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.
Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.
You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.
You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.
Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.
You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.
A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.
He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.
Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.
“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.
His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.
You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.
“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”
You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.
The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.
Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.
You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.
Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.
Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.
Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.
Who would willingly want to be with you?
Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.
Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.
Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.
He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.
He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.
Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.
“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”
Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.
“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.
If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.
“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.
You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.
“I thought you liked digimon??”
He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.
“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”
He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.
You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”
Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.
“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.
He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest
“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”
A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.
“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.
You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.
“Please.”
Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.
You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.
“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”
Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.
“What did I ever do to you?”
The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.
Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.
He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.
“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.
Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.
A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.
“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”
You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”
You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.
Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.
“I never want to see you again.”
His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.
He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.
“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.
For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.
“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.
He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.
“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.
Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.
He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.
it starts with him spitting gum into your hair or flicking your skirt up when he walks past you, always laughing with anyone else who finds your embarrassment hilarious.
it then stems to him whispering dirty things in your ear, surprising you at your locker or during class with his warm breath almost caressing your ear. his comments sound something like "i bet you want me to stick my cock in your mouth, huh?" to "you pull away again and i'll take your ass right now."
whilst uncomfortable, he was almost being charitable when compared to the things he does now.
like how he drags you behind a building at lunch, covering your mouth with one hand while the other almost rips your underwear down.
"shut up, i'm not gonna hurt ya." he says, panting slightly as he pulls something out of his pocket. some odd, pink object? you huff and cry and scream into you his hand, trying to push his hands away as he nudges it towards your exposed pussy.
his hand releases your mouth only to close around your throat, his eyes sickeningly intense.
"stop being a little brat. you move again and i'll tell everyone you were gagging on my dick."
you whimper and nod, anxious as he gently prods the toy into your pussy, only to pull up your underwear. you shift on your feet, the feeling unusual and uncomfortable. gojo sends you away, watching with a grin on his face as you almost waddle back inside.
it's until your last class that you feel it. the subtle vibration has you gasp softly in your seat. you quickly cover your mouth, but gojo already knows. he watches from his seat behind you as he uses the controls on his phone, his eyes wide and planted on your movements.
you struggle through the rest of your class with no ability to pay attention, relief washing through you when the final bell goes.
"pathetic. trying to get off in class, how disgusting."
gojo's wisdom teeth removal led to an unexpected love confession
your best friend of two years had begged you repeatedly to tag along with him to his personal hell on earth. the dental clinic. the four back teeth in his mouth have been bothering him for some time now, leaving no option but to get them removed.
“i can’t do this, hold my hand.” satoru’s hand roughly grabbed onto yours. you tried not to get flustered by the action, but you could feel warmth erupting on your cheeks. his leg kept bouncing nervously, waiting for his name to be called.
“toru, you’re twenty years old.” you reminded.
“i’m allowed to be scared at twenty!” he whisper shouted. his clammy hand didn’t let go of yours even for a second. when his name got called out, he refused to let go. “please, come with me. come with me.”
fortunately, he finally went in without you. with a final pleading look, satoru got taken away. safe to say, he had every right to be terrified. the white haired boy walked out with his cheeks all puffed up like a chipmunks, eyes teary, and walking like a drunk man.
“he was very difficult to drug.” the doctor said, leading satoru by the shoulders over to you. he whined out your name, reaching out to hug you. “help.. hurts..”
you stifled in a laugh, enjoying the sudden behavior. after thanking the doctor and a very difficult time having to push satoru into your car, you made your way over to your apartment . there was no way you were letting him be unattended until tomorrow.
the radio played his favorite music, making him sing along in the backseat. very off key, mind you. “hey.. hey, where we going?” his voice was very funny sounding. “to my place.” you stared at him through the rearview mirror.
“ooh.. and what are we gonna do at your place?”
you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a small smile. “i’m gonna take care of you.”
“whole house happy.” he slurred out before flopping back into his seat. upon arrival, he was talking nonsense. something about digimon and his econ class, you couldn’t tell. “oh no..” the bloody gauze fell from his mouth, landing on the floor. “my tongue!” his eyes widened in horror.
“it’s not your tongue, silly.” too late, he was already crying. his hand tapped against his cheek in attempt to feel his still attached tongue. “no.. my tongue!” he tried bending down to grab it.
in total, it took ten minutes to get him inside the house and to convince him that his tongue was very much intact. “open up..” you gently placed in a new gauze, closing his jaw so he could start biting down on it. “i’ll be back.” doctors recommended to place ice packs on both cheeks to numb down the pain and luckily, you had two bags of peas sitting in your freezer.
“don’t leave me.” his strong arms wrapped around your torso, pushing his face in between your chest. “toru!” you gasped, trying to push him away.
“i love you so much.. do you know that? bet you don’t.. don’t even have a clue.” satoru mumbled out, leaning up to place a sloppy kiss on your cheek, spreading his nasty blood all over you before you stopped him. “babay...” he pouted, watching as you placed your hands on his chest, preventing him from getting closer. “satoru calm down, you’re not yourself right now. you’ve got no idea what you’re saying.”
“i do.” he groaned. “love youuuu.. sooo much. do you love me too?”
you had spent the past two years believing the crush was one sided, that there would be no way he could ever feel the same way about you too. this wasn’t the way you’d want to confess, so you’ll save it for another day. “i’ll tell you when you’re thinking straight.”
“i’m straight.”
“i’m sure.”
very sorry for the inaccurate representation of getting your wisdom teeth removed. i haven’t gotten mine out yet. i’m scared.
tysm for the idea @newpersonsameoldmistakez & @sillyriddle
being shy doesn't mean shit to pornstar toji ՞. .՞
request by: chirunaaa <33
ever since starting onlyfans, you’ve gotten an influx of DMs and requests to collab, but you always pushed it to the side. too anxious to fuck someone on camera.
that’s when toji came in. he’s experienced and was doing porn the classic way until he learned he could do it on his own terms with onlyfans, and that’s exactly what he did.
within two weeks of moving to it, he was rapidly growing, everyone loving the way he stroked his dick and talked to the camera while doing it.
“yeah, you like this, don’t you? dirty slut watching an old man stroke his dick on camera, you should be ashamed.”
then the usual collabs with hot models, something he became known for.
when he got wind of a pretty girl doing solo content, he wanted in on it; he wanted to be your first collab, and after months of you sitting on it, you finally agreed.
once he got his hands on you, you froze and stiffened, and he found that so endearing it got his dick hard.
“just relax for me; i'm not going to hurt you… unless you want me to.”
no time is wasted for him to get handsy with you, sliding a hand in between your thighs, getting a feel for how wet you are, two of his fingers already coated, his other hand on your waist keeping you in place, making sure you don’t run off.
he has two cameras, one focused on your face to pick up your reactions and any sounds you make that the second camera can’t pick up, and the second camera is focused on both your bodies.
toji keeps warming you up for five minutes, getting you used to his hands on you and wanting you to be focused on him and not the cameras.
it works, and you calm down, relaxing in his grasp, letting your body go limp and feeling the pleasure pulse throughout.
both cameras are picking up just how wet you are.
after listening to how loud you are, he finally starts sliding in, letting your wetness coat his tip first, groaning and putting his face into your neck to calm down, not wanting to cum.
reaching on the nightstand to dim the lights, wanting to focus in on your body and wanting you to focus on him and not the cameras, your eyes occasionally darting to the cameras, he doesn’t want that.
what he wants in this moment while his dick is slowly sliding into you is your body clinging to him.
“there you go, breathe.”
mumbling into your neck while he starts his strokes, rolling his hips, listening to every little sound that you make, your hands on his back, your nails already digging deep into his skin.
moaning and arching your back, your feet twitching from intense pleasure, drool coming out the sides of your mouth, the camera focused in on you, but you don’t even care anymore; he’s fucking you so good your thighs and legs are going numb.
your cries bouncing off the walls, both cameras picking it up, toji doing deeper strokes just to feel you tremble beneath him, finishing inside of you to the thought of the comments he's going to get about you.
being shy doesn't mean shit to pornstar toji ՞. .՞
request by: chirunaaa <33
ever since starting onlyfans, you’ve gotten an influx of DMs and requests to collab, but you always pushed it to the side. too anxious to fuck someone on camera.
that’s when toji came in. he’s experienced and was doing porn the classic way until he learned he could do it on his own terms with onlyfans, and that’s exactly what he did.
within two weeks of moving to it, he was rapidly growing, everyone loving the way he stroked his dick and talked to the camera while doing it.
“yeah, you like this, don’t you? dirty slut watching an old man stroke his dick on camera, you should be ashamed.”
then the usual collabs with hot models, something he became known for.
when he got wind of a pretty girl doing solo content, he wanted in on it; he wanted to be your first collab, and after months of you sitting on it, you finally agreed.
once he got his hands on you, you froze and stiffened, and he found that so endearing it got his dick hard.
“just relax for me; i'm not going to hurt you… unless you want me to.”
no time is wasted for him to get handsy with you, sliding a hand in between your thighs, getting a feel for how wet you are, two of his fingers already coated, his other hand on your waist keeping you in place, making sure you don’t run off.
he has two cameras, one focused on your face to pick up your reactions and any sounds you make that the second camera can’t pick up, and the second camera is focused on both your bodies.
toji keeps warming you up for five minutes, getting you used to his hands on you and wanting you to be focused on him and not the cameras.
it works, and you calm down, relaxing in his grasp, letting your body go limp and feeling the pleasure pulse throughout.
both cameras are picking up just how wet you are.
after listening to how loud you are, he finally starts sliding in, letting your wetness coat his tip first, groaning and putting his face into your neck to calm down, not wanting to cum.
reaching on the nightstand to dim the lights, wanting to focus in on your body and wanting you to focus on him and not the cameras, your eyes occasionally darting to the cameras, he doesn’t want that.
what he wants in this moment while his dick is slowly sliding into you is your body clinging to him.
“there you go, breathe.”
mumbling into your neck while he starts his strokes, rolling his hips, listening to every little sound that you make, your hands on his back, your nails already digging deep into his skin.
moaning and arching your back, your feet twitching from intense pleasure, drool coming out the sides of your mouth, the camera focused in on you, but you don’t even care anymore; he’s fucking you so good your thighs and legs are going numb.
your cries bouncing off the walls, both cameras picking it up, toji doing deeper strokes just to feel you tremble beneath him, finishing inside of you to the thought of the comments he's going to get about you.
✮ stepdaddy!toji can't get enough of you. cw: stepcest
stepdaddy!toji didn't plan on getting married at all. he had zero desire to deal with responsibility and all that bullshit, but he figured his kid needed a mother figure. so he met a woman who worked in some boring office, no spark or passion happened, and he didn't even expect it. he just wanted to make sure his boy didn't grow up lonely.
stepdaddy!toji who didn't even blink when she said she had a daughter but would do whatever it took to make sure you wouldn't cause a problem, 'cause apparently you were a total brat who rebelled against her on purpose and all that shit. he just grunted and nodded, thinking you were the same age as his son.
stepdaddy!toji didn't even set eyes on you until he and your mom got hitched, 'cause you kept running away from home and this time your mom just kicked you out. when you guys first met, you were wearing these crazy short lounge shorts with your hair all messy. well, you were way older than his son. you licked your ice cream and looked at him with those doe eyes. "so, you're my new daddy now?" he checked you out from head to toe, letting his gaze linger on those hips. "guess so. and did you have a lot of new ones?" "enough to know you won't last long here." well, that did something to his cock.
stepdaddy!toji saw with his own eyes that you weren't some bratty, hopeless kid like your mom described. you just didn't agree with her and tried to prove her wrong, and she got pissed every single time, telling you she wasted her youth on you. he just cut the argument short, stroking your hair and telling your mom to stop being such a bitch.
stepdaddy!toji couldn't tear his eyes away when you walked around the house in just panties and a sheer white top after another fight just to spite your mom, with your nipples peeking through. you never gave any blunt hints, but the way you stared at his biceps every time he reached for the salt on the table, or at his huge cock when he wore gray sweatpants, spoke for itself.
stepdaddy!toji walked into your room one day while you were out to swipe your panties and sniff 'em while he jerked off, but he found something way more interesting. your laptop stayed open with a chat with your friend on the screen. he was just about to blow it off when he saw his name.
→ idk girl, it sounds gross but if you saw him you'd wanna fuck him too
i mean, you got a shitty mom who's been terrorizing you since you were a kid, he didn't raise you, he didn't change your diapers, so why the hell not? if the dick's worth it lol ←
→ it's huge, i'm sure he'd just rip me apart. i have to imagine him instead of my dildo, though he's definitely like three times bigger
stepdaddy!toji decides to shower with you the next morning, making you let out a scream. "what are you doing in here?" and you try to cover yourself up, but he just laughs. "giving you exactly what you want." he starts stripping and you stare at his massive biceps, his rock-solid chest and abs, then your eyes trail down and see the happy trail leading to a huge, hang-hard cock that was already standing tall. your mouth hung open while he sat down on the edge. "get over here, baby." one second you stopped hiding yourself, and the next you were bouncing on his cock, and he was deep inside you, ripping you apart.
his hands are glued to your ass, guiding your rhythm, squeezing and spreading you open on his cock. every time you slide down, you feel him hit that spot deep inside. "nngh! yes! yes! so good—" he leans forward and captures your nipple between his lips, suckling hard, his tongue flicking across the sensitive peak. "you were made to take my cock." you gasp when he bites down gently, then soothes the ache with his tongue. "mmnn— my little girl’s got the sweetest tits, huh? gonna suck 'em dry." your hips start to slow — you're exhausted, your muscles screaming — but he won't let you stop. his hands grip your waist and start bouncing you on his cock, fucking up into you with brutal precision. your head falls back, mouth open, letting out a long, guttural moan. "you like that, baby? you like your daddy using you like this?" "yes! yes— please nngh! don't stop—" "that's it, baby. cum for daddy. cum all over my cock."
stepdaddy!toji gets addicted to you right away. he turns fucking you every morning into a tradition. he's already hard when he pushes your door open, already stroking himself through his boxers by the time he's kneeling on the mattress, dragging the sheets off your sleeping body. "mornin', little girl." you stir, blinking up at him. his cock is already out, thick and heavy, the head brushing against your thigh. "...it's so early..." "shhh." he pulls your panties down your legs. "daddy needs his breakfast." he rolls you onto your stomach first, because he likes watching the way your back arches when he pushes inside from behind. his chest presses against your spine, his mouth at your ear. "been dreamin' about this pussy all night, baby. you know that? can't sleep proper without knowin' i'm gonna be inside you the second i wake up." "nngh! daddy—! so good..."
stepdaddy!toji uses your tits like a pacifier. it started as something innocent — him suckling gently while you watched tv — but now it's a full-blown ritual. his hands find your shirt, push it up. your bra follows. he groans the second your nipples are bare, leaning down to take one into his mouth. "toji—" "shhh." he sucks hard, tongue circling the sensitive peak. "just let daddy have this."
his eyes are half-closed. he is latched on, suckling slow and steady. his hand cups your other breast, thumb stroking over the nipple. "one day," he murmurs against your skin, "gonna put a baby in you. gonna fill you up so good. and then these tits..." he takes the nipple between his teeth, tugs gently. "gonna be full of milk for me. gonna drink it straight from the source, baby." you whimper, and he suckles harder, his hand sliding down between your legs. "and you'll let me, won't you? let daddy drink it whenever he wants. let me fall asleep right here, with your nipple in my mouth and my cum drippin' out of your tight little pussy." he does fall asleep like that, sometimes. your nipple still between his lips, your hand stroking his hair. and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, hard and aching, he slides inside you without a word, still half-asleep, still sucking your breast.
stepdaddy!toji loves making you squirt just to prove he is way better than guys your own age. he's on his knees between your legs, and he's been down there for god knows how long. your thighs are shaking, you're soaked, and he shows no signs of stopping. "i know you got it in you, baby." his fingers curl inside you, pressing against your front wall. "give it to daddy. give me that." "daddy, i can't—mnngh! i can't, it's too much—" "you can. you will." his mouth closes over your clit, sucks hard while his fingers pump faster. "c'mon, my baby. let go for me. let me see it." your body locks up. every muscle goes tight. and then it releases — a gush of fluid that soaks his hand, his chin, the towel he'd laid down beneath you. "there she is. there's my good fuckin' girl." he doesn't stop. he keeps fingering you through it, keeps sucking your clit until you're screaming, until you're pushing at his head because you can't take anymore. "one more, little girl. give me one more."
stepdaddy!toji who treats your pussy like a living thing. he talks to it, kisses it, worships it. he pushes your thighs up to your chest and groans at the sight of you. "mm, she's wet for me. of course she is. she knows who she belongs to." "look at my girl. missed me, didn't she?" he's talking to your pussy, and he means it. he leans in, presses his open mouth against your folds like a kiss. "fuck, i missed you too, pretty girl." he makes out with it. that's the only way to describe it — his tongue sliding between your lips, pressing inside, then pulling out to suck your clit into his mouth. "daddy's girl's got the sweetest fuckin' pussy in the world. you know that?" he presses his nose against your clit, inhales deep. "can't get enough." "ha— mmnh!!— daddy! i'm gonna—!" "come in my mouth, baby." you cum again from his tongue alone, and he moans through it, smiling against your pussy. when you try to pull away from the oversensitivity, he grabs your hips and yanks you back. "i'm not done. daddy's never done with this pretty pussy."
stepdaddy!toji doesn't give a fuck if someone can catch you guys, if he wanted to fuck you, nothing was gonna stop him. "someone will see—" "let 'em." he pulls you over the center console, guides you onto his lap. your back presses against his chest, the steering wheel digging into your knees. his cock slides into you from behind, and you choke on a moan. "shhh, baby. gotta be quiet." but he's already thrusting up into you, one hand on your hip, the other wrapped around your throat. "look how good you take my cock." a woman walks past with a shopping cart. you freeze, but he keeps moving, keeps fucking up into you slow and deep. "look at her. she got no idea you're gettin' stuffed full of my cock right now." "fuck— daddy! —nngh!" "that's it. let 'em hear. let 'em know who you belong to." sunlight floods the car, and anyone glancing over would see two silhouettes. he comes inside you with a grunt, holding your hips down, filling you up while a minivan parks three spaces away.
stepdaddy!toji who tells your mom he needs to spend more time with you to get to know his stepdaughter better, so he heads to the mall with you. he fucks you in the first dressing room he finds. you're on his lap, your back against his chest, the flimsy curtain doing nothing to muffle your sounds. his cock is buried deep, and he's holding you still while the saleslady asks through the curtain if everything fits okay. "just fine," he calls out, voice steady. his hips thrust up. "my girl's just trying things on." you bite your lip so hard you taste blood. his hand covers your mouth. "shhh, my baby. don't wanna get caught, do you?" but he's fucking up into you harder, faster. the cheap stool beneath you creaks. "nngh! mmn—!" "what was that?" he pulls his hand away. "you got something to say, little girl?" "daddy! — fuck... i'm gonna!—" "gonna come? right here? with your mama thinkin' we're just havin' a nice afternoon?" you nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "then do it, baby. come on daddy's cock. let 'em all hear who makes you feel this good." you come with a broken cry, and he follows right after.
stepdaddy!toji finally gets to fuck you everywhere after the divorce, without hiding or trying to muffle your sweet sounds. he bends you over the thick upholstered arm, your toes barely touching the floor, ass arched high. he pushes in slow, watching his cock disappear into your tight little pussy inch by inch. the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy fills the room. "you hear that, baby? listen to how wet you are for me. this pussy knows who it belongs to, doesn't it?" "y-yes, daddy! it's you— ah!— all yours!" or when he folds you in half, knees pressed against your shoulders, your ankles hooked over his biceps. he looms over you, watching his own cock slide in and out of your gaping hole. he fucks you deep and slow, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every thrust until you're a writhing mess beneath him. "look at you little girl, taking every inch. you love being stuffed full of this cock, don't you?" "yes! daddy— mmnh!— yes, i love it, i love it!"
stepdaddy!toji who loves it when you warm up his dick. he's sitting on the couch, watching tv, and you're in his lap, facing him, his cock buried deep inside your pussy. you're both fully dressed except for where your panties are pushed aside and his zipper is down. "just sit still, little girl. keep me warm." you try to stay quiet, but every small movement makes you clench around him, and you can feel him twitch inside you. your thighs are shaking, your pussy pulsing, and you're so wet you can feel yourself dripping down onto his lap. "please— i need you to move—" you can feel him twitch inside you, feel him get harder even though he's not moving. his thumb traces lazy circles on your hip. "one day," he murmurs, "gonna keep you on my cock all day long. gonna carry you around the house like this. make you breakfast with my dick still buried in you." you clench around him involuntarily, and he groans. "fuck, yeah. squeeze daddy just like that."
stepdaddy!toji who couldn't see you for a whole week because of all the divorce drama. and when you finally show up at his place, he doesn't even take your clothes off all the way. just pushes your skirt up, rips your panties aside, and sinks into you with a groan that sounds like relief. "fuck! fuck— i needed this. i needed you, baby." your back hits the wall, your legs wrap around his waist. he's holding you up, fucking you standing, your weight suspended on his cock. "never again. never gonna go a week without this pussy again. you hear me?" "yes— mmh! daddy— yes!" "now i can have you whenever i want. wherever i want." he carries you across the room, still inside you, fucks you against every surface he can reach. the counter. the couch. the floor. "gonna make up for lost time. gonna spend the whole weekend buried inside my little girl."
stepdada!kuna ? amazing art from @ dickerystuf on ig / x
⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; This whole fic was inspired by this post by @masterfishbaiter71 ! Anyways, this entire fic is just about edging Dex til he has a meltdown and goes fucking crazy on you ;)
⋆ tags/warnings. benjamin poindexter x female reader. SMUT!!!! PURE PORN. Guys please don't edge Dex, for your own safety, warnings for sadism, mentions of dacryphilia for both dex and reader, dex taking his anger out on reader, kind of switchy vibes (starts off with somewhat subby Dex and ends with reader getting destroyed lmao), m!receiving oral smex, BLOWJOB BLOWJOB BLOWJOB, facefucking, sadomasochism, you're his north star, per usual that white boy loses his self control, emotional Dex, swearing. I saw this post and flatlined pretty much. I love my little dexy-poo. Again, tysm to everyones support on my fics! Im so excited for tommorrows episode!
♫ “Baby, I could slow down, if that's what you need me to do. / We can go another round, maybe to a new altitude. / I'll make you need it, and you want it.” Altitude by Montell Fish
"I'm...I'm trying-" He growls out a plea.
The words fall from his lips in short spasms and bursts. He's struggling to get them out, his jaw clenched like it might break. You see him white-knuckling the sheets, twitching like he wants to reach out and grab onto you. Onto any part of you he can get his hands on.
Your tongue flicks over his tip once, twice. Precum pools in a small bead at the top which you kitten lick off intently. You hear Dex moan- and it's a strangled, ragged sound.
"Trying to...what, Dex?" You tease. Laughing against his throbbing cock. He can't respond when you begin to just kiss the length of him, wet and hot. You feel his whole body jerk and a low groan tear out from him.
The only sound in the room is the slow, wet obscene noises coming from how you're working him. And the sound of Dex's heavy choked breathing.
He's close. So close. It's times like these you get to see his brain completely shut off, all the noise that plagues him turn into a pliant, quiet mush at the feeling of your mouth on him.
"I-I'm going to-"
Cum. He's going to cum. You know that, smirking around the head of his flushed red cock. Poor guy can't even finish his sentence. You almost feel sorry for him the moment you pull back.
The loss of your tongue is jarring. It's the third time tonight. You've been teasing him, watching his control falter with every lick and kiss. You've also been careful not to take him fully down your throat, cataloging every reaction he gives you. The sight of his pretty face contorted with a desperate, needy pleasure.
You chuckle when his abdominal muscles flex, his whole body tense. The absence of your mouth feeling like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on him. A sharp gasp is ripped from his throat, hips bucking in shallow thrusts to chase the loss.
His whole body taught with the effort not to snap.
You finally look up from your place between his thighs, if only to catch a glimpse of his face. You note his hollow cheek-bones twisted into a grimace at the loss. The beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and abs. The way his veins prominently stick out and throb from under his skin and forearms. The way his chest heaves at the lack of contact.
And yet, what finally gives you pause is when you meet his eyes.
His eyes. Those gorgeous, dark eyes of his- heavy lidded and red rimmed. Overstimulated and wrecked, like he's been crying, or at least is on the verge. Glossy and wet as he desperately attempts to blink them away.
For a moment, you think he really just is that needy. Crying for his North Star's mouth on him, eyes dimmed with nothing but complete worship. But when his eyes meet your own, biting the inside of his cheeks, it's when you finally notice the truth.
The way his brows are lowered. The way his body trembles. The way his cheeks are flushed. The way his cock pulses impatiently under your hand. His locked jaw.
That look of pathetic desperation in his eyes is nothing short of a hot, wild, frenzied anger.
He's not just needy. He's fucking furious.
Your train of thought is cut off entirely when you feel a hand come up, tangling in your hair, and pushing you down in one hard, smooth motion. You feel the head of his cock immediately hit your esophagus.
As if on instinct, you gag around him, throat tightening as he groans loudly. He pants as he pushes you all the way down, manhandling your mouth onto his cock like a fleshlight. He holds you there for what feels like forever, those glossy eyes of his drinking in the sight of you gagging on him.
"Breathe...Breathe through your fucking nose." Is all he orders, trying to catch his own breath while you sputter around him. The words come out harsh. The change of pace is jolting. His eyes are still wet with need, the hard lines of his body still rigid underneath. You feel his hands tighten in your hair to a pressure than borders on painful.
He's seething. That anger boiling over and melting into a mean look on his face he was trying so, so hard to repress for you. But you just couldn't let him, huh? Had to make him the bad guy.
He observes as your mascara quickly begins to run, your own eyes welling. Something about it makes him shudder. Only when he sees tears of your own does he begin to move. You two can cry together.
"Good. That's...That's good. That's it." He loosens his grip on you ever so slightly to pet your hair, take you in like the goddess you must be, his saving grace. His body begins to relax, coming down from his anger as his breathing calms down...right before he rams his cock sharply down your throat.
You let out a loud gag and whimper around his cock, and he inhales sharply in unison.
"All quiet now, huh." He grits out, shoving you down further as you choke. The force of his words are coupled with the sharp thrusts of his hips fucking up into your throat. When you whine, he decides to push you harder. "Look at me. Look at me."
His words sound like both a livid command and a desperate plea.
You struggle to open your eyes, but when you do, you're still met with bloodshot and glistening gaze that now completely matches your own.
He holds you there, both of you shakily breathing, tears pooling while you cry around his dick.
He briefly wonders if you knew. If you knew you were killing him like this. If you knew how hard he was trying not to grab your head and fuck your throat raw. Be...gentle.
Guess it doesn't matter now.
Dex’s grip tightens in your hair, fingers flexing like he’s still fighting himself even as he starts fucking your throat in short, brutal strokes. His voice is low, rough, and broken.
“Couldn’t…just...wait anymore.” The words come out both furious and strangled. Like he's desperatley trying to apologize, to tell you why, but they lack any and all remorse the more he bullies your throat.
Each thrust is measured but punishing, his cock sliding deep, stretching your throat until fresh tears spill down your cheeks. His eyes stay locked on yours the whole time- glossy, furious, and starving.
His thumb gently wipes a tear from your cheek even as he keeps ruthlessly using your mouth, the contrast between the soft touch and the vicious snap of his hips making your head spin.
He's close. Again. For the fourth time tonight. And something tells you this one won't end in broken pleas or shallow thrusts up into nothing.
He’s panting hard, hips snapping up faster, losing the last threads of control.
“Swallow it. All of it. Right now.”
His voice cracks on the last word. And with a final groan, he shoves himself as deep as he can go and holds you there, pulsing hard as he spills straight down your throat in thick, endless spurts. He stays buried, breathing ragged, thumb stroking your tear-streaked cheek almost tenderly while his cock twitches against your tongue.
He leans down to rest his forehead against yours, pulling you back up with a gentleness that contrasts his earlier actions. His touch is hot, the sweat of his body sticking to your own. Your throat will be sore tomorrow.
The two of you stay like that for quite some time, losing count of the hours. You might just end up kissing each others tears away.
synopsis: after you called up your plug, it seems like he has a few ideas in mind on how you can pay him back!
content warning: explicit, smoking, kissing, unestablished relationship, piercings, pet names, fwb, whimpering, smut w/ little to no plot, drooling, praise kink, breeding kink, mdom, hair pulling, oral f. rec, fingering, püssy drunk, switchy, p in v, riding, tummy bulges, overstimulation, dacryphilia?, multiple rounds, creämpies, aftercare yippee
wc: 4.1k
a/n: ugh this has been sitting in my drafts since forever thank god it finally gets to see the light
based on these poll results. enjoy!
You pulled up to his apartment, the rain pattering onto the windshield of your car. It was dark and cloudy outside, the thunder rumblings in the background. You took a hit of your vape as you debated whether or not if you wanted to knock on his door. The sweet smoke seeped from your lips, before you ultimately opened your car door and stepped out.
You looked down at the wet concrete, trying to protect your face from the rain. Finally making it to his complex, the bottom of your sweatpants wet from walking in the rain. You hesitated as you lifted your arm to knock on the door, biting your lip slightly before your knuckles finally reached the door.
He opened the door shortly after you knocked, his messy bangs covering his eyes. His lip piercing shining in the dim moonlight.
“Took you long enough,” he murmured quietly before retreating back into his apartment, leaving you standing by the door, “know what you’re looking for?” he asked from inside the apartment.
You stood awkwardly at the front, shifting your weight onto your other leg. “Um, yeah. Same thing as always.” you replied as you nervously took a hit of your vape, exhaling the smoke from your mouth.
“Cool.” he replied as he walked back to the open door, the pouch of weed in hand. His eyes briefly gazing over your face before shortly looking away.
“How much?” You asked as you went grab your wallet from your tote-bag.
“250, same as always.” he replied, watching as you dug through your bag. You pulled out the cash from your wallet, counting it quickly before handing it to him.
“Here, that should cover it.” You responded as you handed him the cash. He nodded, counting it regardless of the fact you just counted it in front of him.
“Yeah, thanks. Appreciate doin’ business. Same time next week?” he asked.
You hummed in agreement, turning your head before noticing that the rain had started getting harder. You gulped nervously , the thought of having to drive in it practically eating at you.
Choso seemed to notice the color in your face fading, he raised a curious, pierced eyebrow at you. “I just rolled a fresh blunt if you wanna come in.” he stepped aside just enough for you walk in
His offer weighed heavily on you, you hesitated before ultimately agreeing. “Oh. uhm, sure if it’s not much trouble.” you replied.
“Nah, not at all,” he chuckled before you stepped into his apartment, closing the door behind you, “consider it a little bonus for my best client.”
Your eyes dawned over his living room, the room filled with a hazy, smoky atmosphere. You sat on an empty spot on the couch, before he decided to plop beside you.
He grabbed the lighter that was sitting on the coffee table, flicking it a few times before it finally formed a flame. He brought the flame to the end of the blunt, lighting it then pressing it to his lips.
He inhaled sharply, then exhaling with a cough. Passing over the blunt to you. “Thanks.” you hummed quietly as you brought the blunt to your lips. The smoke instantly filling your senses, and escaping with a cough following after.
“Shit, how do you smoke these so often?” You cough out, clearing your throat afterwards.
“You get used to it,” He snorts, taking another hit for himself. “could say the same thing about those vapes.” he chuckles, eyeing you as you held the vape to your mouth.
“It’s cotton candy flavored though, it doesn’t taste like burnt grass.” you exhaled, the scent escaping your lips.
“Burnt grass?” he glanced at you amused.
“That’s what weed tastes like to me,” You shrug, “I prefer my dessert flavored vapes.”
A small smile grew on his face, “So why do you buy it?” He asks, passing the blunt over to you.
You fiddle with it for a second before finally taking a big puff, “I dunno, I guess I like the taste of burnt grass.” You giggled as you contradicted yourself.
“You’re very complex.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Mhm.” He nodded, his eyes now a red-pinkish tint. He glared at you hungrily; you, him, and a blunt? Never a good idea and never had a good outcome.
It seemed the weed had been hitting you too, your brain was foggy and your thoughts were clouded. Your eyelids drooped heavily as you passed the blunt back and forth. “You got any edibles?” you asked, blowing the smoke out from your lips.
“Yeah, just made a fresh batch. Wanna take one together?” he asks.
“Together?”
“Like old time sakes.” his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes.
You bit your lip, subconsciously you know how this would end. But did you care? Not really. “We both know that’s not a good idea.” you responded.
“Yeah, well when has anything we’ve done together been a good idea?” he lounges back in the couch, throwing his head back and his shaggy bangs fall from his face. You shouldn’t listen to him, you really shouldn’t. But your body betrays you before your mind could answer.
“Sure, fuck it.” You shrugged. His lips curled into a smile as he lifted his head back up. He arose from his spot on the couch, disappearing for a minute or two before coming back with a clear ziploc back. A couple of gummies in the packaging. He grabbed two, handing one to you.
A grin grew on your face as you both simultaneously popped the edible into your mouths. It was only a matter of time till it would kick in.
You leaned back, your mind now relaxed with the cannabis slowly flowing into your system. “Isn’t it funny that the only time we ever actually hangout is either to get high, or fuck?”
“Strange world, isn’t it?” Choso hummed.
“Indeed.”
You could already feel the dampness growing in between your thighs. Maybe it was the edible you just took, or maybe you were just really fucking horny. You bit your lip as the lustful thoughts filled your head. You weren’t in the headspace alone, Choso was in the same boat. His head filled with lewd thoughts of your body underneath his. Your sticky skin colliding with his. It overtook his brain in ways he couldn’t explain.
It wouldn’t be the first time you two have gotten high and done perverted things together, it was a sort of symbiotic relationship. Choso got you high and good deals, and in return you let him fuck your brains out. It was a win-win situation.
He was already practically undressing you with his eyes. The heat and sexual tension growing between you too.
Your thighs were tightly clamped together, his meaty thighs spread wide on the couch cushions, there was nothing you wanted more in that moment than to mount him like a horse and hump him like a bunny in heat. But you were a woman of class, of course you wouldn’t yet.
“Wanna get high and nasty?” He blurts out, his voice low and gravely.
“I thought you’d never ask.” you smiled as he immediately grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. Your mouths instantly crashing onto one another. He tasted like smoke with a hint of metal from his piercing.
His hands gripped your hips harshly, pulling your body tightly against his and forcing you to grind against his groin. His sweatpants were low on his hips, your fingers occasionally slipping underneath the waistband. Your fingers were cold against his warm skin, causing a small shudder to escape from his lips.
“Fuck, you can’t do that. S’not fair…” he whined as his grip on your hips tightened. Your fingers traveling from his waist to his hair, entangling themselves freely in his messy, black locks.
His hands went to the back of your thighs, like he was trying to hold onto the dignity he had left. His lips left momentarily to leave bites and kisses among your neck and jawline.
“Cho, I need you,” you whined out as Chosos hands roamed the sides of your body, occasionally sliding over the “please?”
Your pleading must’ve sent him into overdrive, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he pressed his bulge against you. “S’okay, I’ll make you feel real good soon.” he whispered in your ear before connecting your lips again. Your teeth now nibbling on his lower lip and your tongue fiddling with his lip piercing.
His kisses were hot, wet and open mouthed, your teeth constantly colliding. You could feel the heat pooling below your belly, the dampness growing in between your thighs. Your hips grinding against his growing bulge needy.
“Can’t anymore, need to taste you right now.” He groaned as he pushed you onto your back. His hands ripping off your sweatpants. Leaving you in only your lace camisole and your sweet, cotton panties. His fingers traced the wet spot that had formed, teasing the sensitive skin underneath.
“So wet f’me and I haven’t even touched you yet.” Choso chuckled to himself as he toyed with your delicate state.
“Choooo, stop being mean!” you whined out as you writhed underneath him. Your back arched as you felt his hot breath linger over the wet spot. Before his fingers eventually hooked your panties to the side and admiring the view of your slick glistening on your folds.
He began with small kitten-like licks, savoring your sweet taste. “You taste so good, pretty.” he murmured amongst your puffy clit. The vibration of his voice sending shrills down your spine.
“More, you whimpered as his tongue glided against your slit. “please, cho.” How could he ever say no to such a pretty thing like you?
“I’m getting there, angel. Be patient.” he responded while slurping your sweet juices. He was practically nose deep and still didn’t have enough of you. He pulled off your clit to slide in his middle finger into your slit, slowly curling it against your pulsating walls.
Your hands got lost in his hair as his fingers curled in and out of your hole, his tongue slowly lapping over your sensitive clit. “Yes! Ohmygod, right— hick! there!” you cried out in pleasure.
“Close— m’sooo close.” your moans sounded like music to his ears.
Choso took the sounds of your pleasure as a sign to go further, his fingers still pumping in and out of your needy cunt. His tongue now letting your clit rest from the stimulation.
He brought his face up to yours, his pace with his fingers slowly faltering. “Taste yourself on my lips, angel.” he whispered as he smashed his lips onto your. Your hips jutted against his hand, desperate for any friction and change in pace.
“Need to cum, please.” you whined, trying to convince him to pump his long digits in you once again.
“I know, I know, sweet girl. I’ll get you there. I promise.” He kissed the inside of your thigh sweetly before indulging on your swollen cunt again. He slurped and sucked like a man dying of hunger, his fingers now knuckles deep and pressing against your G-spot.
Your walls tightened against his fingers, on the verge of falling off the ledge of ecstasy. No coherent words could form on your tongue, only a variety of gasps and moans. Tears swelled in your eyes from the pleasure, his tongue relentlessly lapping at your sensitive hole.
Seeing the way your face twisted from the immense stimulation had Choso groaning into your pussy. His fingers curling so perfectly inside of you.
“C’mon pretty, I can feel you squeezing my fingers,” he cooed, his free hand clenching the back of your thigh. “be a good girl and cum f’me, yeah?” he groaned as he flicked his tongue up and down, relentless with the pleasure he was giving you.
“Mhm!” you cried out as your hands tangled into his hair, “m’cumming, hiccup! m’cumming” you moaned as the wave of ecstasy hit you hard. Your thighs clenched around Choso’s head, trembling from the sudden high. His free hand moved from your thigh to your lower stomach to push you down from squirming.
Choso groaned into your pussy as you finished, slurping your juices and lapping at your fluttering hole. “Look how pretty that mess you made is.” He praised you, his hips rutting against the couch cushion.
He sits up from being between your thighs, pressing small kisses as he exists. “C’mon baby, you can take more f’me.” he smiles as he pulled your limp body onto his lap. “You wanna make me feel good, don’t you?”
You nodded, your thighs tense and sore but nonetheless, you wanted to show your appreciation and make him feel good to.
You bit your lip as your hands fiddled with the drawstrings of his sweats, untying them and pulling down the waistband of his sweats just enough to free his cock. It sprung against his stomach, pre-cum beading at the tip.
“F-fuck,” he whined as you stroked it slightly before lining the tip with your entrance, rubbing the tip against your hole. “can’t believe it’s gonna—haah, fit in you.” he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
You began slowly descending onto his lap, the stretch burning in the most addictive way. You held onto his shoulders as support, small whimpers escaping your swollen lips.
He feared if he looked in your eyes as you slid down on his length, he would bust at that very moment. The pleasure of your walls tightening as you took each inch at a painfully slow rate was extremely overwhelming. You squealed once you felt him bottom out in you, his tip prodding at your cervix.
“Soo— hck! So full, Cho.” you whimpered, he finally split an eye ope to look at you on his lap. His cock twitching at the sight.
Choso’s hands tightly gripped your hips to help you maintain your rhythm, your thighs plopping onto his lap with every bounce. The sounds of wet, sticky, skin against skin echoed throughout the room. “Harder, you can do better than that, baby.”
He grit his teeth as you obeyed his directions, your pace slightly hitching up in speed. His long, veiny cock slipping in and out your folds, occasionally slipping out when you rose back to the top.
“I’m— trying! It’s just t’much..!” you whined as the burn in your legs began to rush throughout your body.
“Look at you, you’re taking every inch of me.” He groaned, his praise sounding like music to your ears. He so badly wanted to grab you by your hips and rut into you relentlessly, but he preferred to make you feel good first.
“Feels s’good.. s’full.” You moaned as his dick filled you to the brink.
He let out a guttural groan as his tip prodded at your spongy G-spot, your legs slowly getting tired but you maintained your speed. Choso’s hands guided your hips and pulled you up and down on his cock. Your brain began getting fuzzy and empty. The only thought lingering was to make yourself feel good.
Choso’s nails dug small crescents into your skin as you rode his brains out. Your clit grinding onto his pelvic bone.
His cock twitched inside of you as you let out a high pitched moan. Your thighs now clenching around his waist. “So— ngh, tight. You feel so good, baby.” he groaned from underneath you.
You nodded brainlessly, your silk walls tightening around his cock. Choso looked at you with half-lidded eyes, his eyelashes soaked from his tears of pleasure.
“Go faster for me, pretty.” He grunted as he thrusted up into the roll of your hips. Your cunt greedily sucked in every inch he gave you, your cervix now practically bruised from his lengthy cock. Your legs were tired, sore and worn out. You tried to pick up the pace but your body couldn’t keep up with Choso’s stamina. His eyebrows furrowed with a bead of sweat between them, his hands guiding you to make you go faster.
“y’re not going fast enough— ngh,” he began getting frustrated
You were trying. Really, you were.
Eventually, it wasn’t enough for him. Within seconds, Choso flipped you over onto your hands and knees; the air remaining in your lungs escaping from the sudden change in movement.
“M’sorry baby,” he whined before aligning his flaring pink tip with your entrance, “s-soooo sorry.”
He slammed into your with a forceful thrust. Your legs trembling and hardly keeping you up. “M’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry—“ he repeated over and over again. Tears welling in both of your eyes. Your face was shoved into the couch cushions, a small patch of drool starting to form from where you lips laid.
“F-feels too good to— hck! stop.” he babbled, your syrupy cunt reeling him in more with each roll of his hips. His fingers were practically leaving bruises on your hips from how tight he was holding them, you couldn’t speak. Every ounce of strength you had left was fucked out of your body.
Your limp, sore, body.
“C-Cho, s’too much—“ you were cut off by him shoving your face further into the couch. He couldn’t help it, your pussy was practically singing to him. And it was definitely speaking more than you could at the moment.
“No, y’re taking it soo good f’me,” his thrusts became more frantic and sloppier. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as another orgasm crashed over you. “S-see? You can take it.” he grunted, the pulsing from your orgasm sent him over the edge; his cocked twitched inside of you as he buried himself to a hilt.
“F-fuck!” He yelped as he grabbed a handful of your hair. “M’cumming, haah— fuck!” he whimpered as hot, sticky, long, ropes spurt inside of you; filling you to the absolute brink.
A frothy mixture of your liquids dripped from between your thighs, spilling onto the couch beneath your legs. A ring now formed around his cock. He didn’t pull out, just kept you both connected.
“Need to see y’re face this time,” he murmured as he flipped you over to your back. Your eyes widening as he hovered over you.
“What? N-no, I can’t!” You cried out, but it was too late. He was too far gone. Your mascara now streaming down your face as your sticky bodies collided once more.
“Yes you can, baby. And you will—“ he babbled breathlessly. His pelvic bone snapping against your ass. “for me, you can.” his hand lingered on your lower stomach, a evident bulge lying beneath his palm. “Heh, l-look. Y’re so full of me already.” The room absolutely reeked of sweat and sex, with the slightest hint of your cotton candy vape.
Your hand was placed on his lower abdomen, squirming beneath his violent yet desperate thrust. Trying to push away from the immense pleasure. “S-slow down!” You testified from underneath him.
“Where are ya’ running off to?” He asked as he realized you were scooting away from his cock. He slammed into you hard, forcing a sweet whine to escape your lips. “stop— ngh, running from me.” He folded you in half like a pretzel to prevent you from scooting away from it again.
He held you in the meanest mating press. His balls slapping against your clit as he held your legs to your chest. Your hands clawed at his back and sides, leaving the evidence of raw, red lines on his skin.
He aggressively grabbed your jaw, pulling your face to his own. The kiss was no longer sweet, but full of hunger and want. His teeth pressed into your lower lip before his tongue explored your mouth. His other hand traveling down to your clit, his thumb rubbing over your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“One more,” he gasped out as he devoured your lips raw, “c’mon, I know you can do it f’me, pretty.”
It seemed your body listened to him more than yourself, because shortly after, your cunt seized around him for the umpteenth time this night. The suction caused him to groan as he picked up his pace; chasing his own climax. Your cunt gushed with juices as you reached your orgasm.
His seed was still dribbling down your ass, he was practically using it as lube to fuck back into your greedy hole easier.
“Wan’ fill you up more— No, need to fill you up more.” His cock twitched inside of you as you neared the end of your orgasm. The nasty squelches filling the room as you let out borderline pornographic moans. Your cunt squeezed around him at the sound of his words. “Ya’ want that don’t you? Need me to fill this pretty cunt nice and full?”
“Mhm— please, Cho.” You clenched down on him harder. “Need to feel you more.” Your tears mixing with your sweat.
“S’okay baby, I know what’s best for her.” your body flailed against his rough pounding. “Don’t need to talk more, she’s doin’ allll the talking for you.”
He pressed down harder on the bump in your tummy, feeling the outline of his cock inside of you. Just the sensation alone had him stretching you in was deemed to be nearly impossible. His throbbing tip prodding at spots you didn’t even know existed.
“Haah— fuck. M’gonna cum again soon.” he warmed as his thrust continued getting sloppier and heavier. “Gon’ fill her nicely for you.” You shook your head profusely, your thighs trembling underneath him.
“M-maybe even get you pregnant, have you round and leaking of me.” He rambled on. He shuddered at the thought. “Would keep you full fuck, would treat you soooo good.
Choso’s cock abused your poor, leaking hole. The only thing keeping him alive in this moment was how beautifully you were taking him in. “Gotta— ngh, give this cunt what she wants.”
It only took a few more greedy thrust before he painted your insides white, your now white silken walls being stuffed full of him.
He laid ontop of you, nearly just as limp as you were. His cum stayed in for the meantime as he stayed plugged inside of you. Just where he wanted to be.
His face stayed buried in the crook of your neck, his mouth was close enough that you could hear his ruined whimpers. His tip leaked hot spurts inside of you more and more with each passing second, before he ultimately pulled out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness, his seed seeping out of your raw and sloppy pussy.
“Look at that.” he mumbled under his breath as he watched your juices ooze once he pulled out. The admiration in his voice very evident.
His eyes widened once he realized your ruined state. “M’sorry— did I… was it too much?” he rambled over his words as he immediately felt the guilt of going over your limit.
“No— no, Cho. I’m fine.” you responded with a weak smile. You felt so used but it was the most pleasurable feeling.
“A-are you sure?” He asked against, his ears perking up from your confirmation. “Let me clean you up.” he disappeared for a moment, but came back with a slightly damp towel to wipe you down with. Afterwords, he helped you change into more suitable clothes for your own comfortability.
Choso’s sudden change in affection was refreshing, he caressed your body so carefully. Rubbing any part that might’ve been sore. He gently kissed the marks he left on your skin with sweet praises.
“You did so good for me, angel.”
“Just hold me close, Cho.” you replied weakly.
He pressed a few kisses to the top of your forehead as you laid on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothing you to sleep.
a/n: okeh so like this took way longer to edit than expected cause daddy has exam season now 😞 but don’t fret my kittens I still have plenty of short posts for u to feast on mwahahahah
Cw: +18, mean!joel, really desperate/needy reader, sub!reader, deep throat, crying, oral m!receiving, degradation, unspecified age gap, cum swallowing, lot's of saliva, slapping, hair pulling/yanking
A/N: today is my birthday, so yall are getting fed!!! It's very short, but yummy and i just couldn't get these pics out of my head, like he looks so huge and dada...sooo enjoy pookies <33
The floorboards are cold under your knees, but you don't care about that right now.
Your eyes are too wide, too wet, too desperate, looking up at him with an unbearable ache between your legs and saliva watering inside your mouth.
Joel towers over you, hands planted on his hips, his jaw tight, eyebrows furrowed. He's looking down at you like you're something he scraped off of his boot. Unimpressed. Bordering on disgusted.
And you know it. You know how much he hates you.
His jeans strain across his thighs, and there—right fucking there—that thick swell of him, rock hard already, pressing against the denim, swollen in need. Above it, that soft pudge of his belly, that little curve you've pressed your face into a hundred times only when he lets you. Only when he's feeling generous.
Your eyes drift to that spot you love so much, picturing his cock already leaking for you.
He tsks sharply, the sound cutting through the tense air like a whip.
Your gaze snaps back up, but it's already too late. His eyes have gone dark, narrowed down at you with something sharp and cold. Annoyance. Disdain.
"Too god damn desperate," he growls, his voice low and gravelly. "For your own good."
You can't help but nod frantically, your mouth already watering at the thought of him, saliva pooling under your tongue. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling with raw need. "I need it. In my mouth."
You lean forwards then, nuzzling against the rigid outline of his erection, inhaling the musky scent of him through the denim, your desperation making your hands twitch at your sides, itching to touch but knowing better than to try.
His hand moves fast.
He grabs a fistful of your hair at the scalp and yanks, wrenching your head back so hard your neck cracks. Your gasp cuts through the quiet.
Then his palm comes against your face.
A slap lands across your cheek with a sharp crack, the sting blooming hot and immediate, leaving your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat.
You freeze, eyes wide and pleading, the slap only fueling the fire of your need rather than dousing it. Your cheek burns, but you don't pull away; instead, you stay perfectly still, gazing up at him with utter submission, your body trembling with how badly you crave more.
He holds your gaze for a long, heavy moment.
A small "pathetic" leaves his lips.
And then, something flickers in his expression—not softening, never that. But a decision.
"Alright," he says, calm. "You want it that bad? Open the zipper. With your mouth. Only your mouth."
You don't hesitate.
You lean in, your lips brushing against the cold metal tab of his jeans zipper. Your tongue darts out, fumbling, clumsy, desperate to please. You catch the tab between your teeth and tug. The teeth of the zipper part slowly, and you work your way down, your jaw aching, drool already starting to slip from the corner of your lips.
Inch by inch, the fabric parts, and then his cock springs free through the open slit in his boxers—thick and heavy, veins bulging along the shaft, the swollen head already glistening with a bead of pre-cum that drools from the tip. It bobs right in front of your face, so close you can feel the heat radiating off it, the salty scent filling your senses.
You drool again; a fat string of saliva that drips from your lower lip and lands on your own thigh. You don't even notice. All you see is him.
"Jesus Christ," Joel mutters, but there's no tenderness in it. Just exasperation. "Look at you. Droolin' like a bitch in heat."
You don't care. You can't care. You're already leaning forward, lips parting—
His hand clamps onto your hair again, stopping you. The pull hurts on your scalp already.
"I ain't done talkin'."
You freeze, a whimper leaving your lips.
"I'm gonna fuck your throat," he says, each word deliberate. "Deep. Slow. And you're not gonna gag. Ya hear me?"
You nod as much as his grip allows, a jerky, desperate motion.
"No gaggin'," he repeats, making sure you understand. "Not a sound. You take it. That's what you're made for."
He doesn't wait for an answer.
He guides the head of his cock right between your lips, and you open for him—greedy, hungry, your tongue already stretching out to taste him. He pushes past your lips, past your tongue, and keeps going.
He's thick. So thick that your jaw aches instantly. You taste every vein, every inch stretched wide around him. He fills your mouth completely, and he keeps pushing, deeper, until his tip nudges the back of your throat.
You feel your body already rebel—a reflexive clench, a spasm from the back of your throat. But you force yourself to relax, to open, to take.
And then he's past the barrier, sliding into your throat in one smooth, burning slide.
Your eyes start to water.
Tears spill over, falling one by one down your cheeks. Your nose is pressed against the hair at his groin, and the world has narrowed to the taste of him, the stretch of him, the smell and the sound of his breathing.
He holds there. Just for a moment. Just to let you feel it.
"Good girl," he says, and the praise is so unexpected, so incongruous with everything else, that a sob of relief catches in your chest. But he doesn't let you savor it. "Now we're gonna move. Slow. And you're gonna keep that mouth open."
He pulls back, almost all the way out, leaving just the tip resting on your tongue.
Then he pushes in again.
Slow.
All the way in until his fat head drags against your palate, your tongue and then lands against the back of your throat.
He sets a rhythm with slow, agonising thrusts that bury him deep, hold for a heartbeat, then retreat. Every time he sinks in, your throat convulses around him, trying to accommodate, and every time he pulls back, you drool—a mess of spit and pre-cum that strings from his cock to your lips.
You try to breathe through your nose, keep your jaw unclenched and throat relaxed while tears still spill from your eyes.
Joel watches. His eyes are half-lidded, focused entirely on where he disappears into your mouth, and on your tears. His free hand then comes up, and you feel his rough fingers on your throat—right over the place where his cock is sliding in and out.
He presses down lightly, rubbing the skin.
"You can feel it, can't you?" His voice is a low murmur, almost lazy. "Feel me right here, movin' in you."
You can. The sensation is foreign and intimate, his fingers tracing the bulge of his own cock moving inside your throat. It makes you moan, a muffled sound that vibrates around him.
"Quiet," he says, calm, there's no heat in it. Just a reminder.
He keeps going. Slow, Relentless. Making your throat memorise the veins of his cock.
Your jaw aches. Your throat burns. Tears and drool mix together, soaking your chin, your neck, the collar of your shirt.
But you don't care. You'd stay like this forever, if he'd let you.
He thrusts a little deeper, then. Turning a little harder. His rhythm suddenly changes, becoming more urgent, his hips rocking forward with a rougher snap. You can feel his cock throbbing inside your throat while his breathing thickens, the grip on your hair tightening to the point of pain.
"Fuck," he grunts. "That's what you're only good for. Gonna fill that throat of yours. Gonna pump you so full."
Your eyes roll up, meeting his for a brief moment. He's watching you; gaze dark, possessive, hungry.
Then he groans, a low, guttural sound from deep in his chest and his cock swells against your tongue. He thrusts deep one last time, burying himself to the root, and you feel the hot pulse of his release hitting the back of your throat.
There's a lot. Wave after wave, thick and bitter, flooding your mouth. You swallow instinctively, your throat working around him as he keeps twitching, keeps coming.
He holds you there, pressed against him, until he's empty.
Then he pulls out slowly, his cock sliding wet and spent across your tongue, slowly softening.
You're a mess.
Sobbing and sniffling quietly. Spit and cum and tears all over your face. But you keep your mouth closed, holding everything down.
Joel takes a step back. His hands drop to his sides again. He looks down at you, breathing hard.
"Open," he says.
You do. You part your lips, tilt your head back, showing him the inside of your mouth. Clean. Empty. You swallowed every drop like a Good girl.
He looks at you for a long moment. His expression doesn't soften.
Synopsis. Five times Gojo Satoru - the hottest k-pop idol right now - gets exposed for wanting you, his pretty, totally-not-girlfriend best friend. And the one time he gives them headlines to talk about.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, idol!Gojo, k-pop idol au, 5 + 1 things, best-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, dispatch, fandom shenanigans, lie detector tests, variety shows, ISAC, he’s SO down bad, matíng presses, oraI (fem. rec.), spítting, chokíng, p sIapping, Gojo’s tongue píercing, PÚSSYDRÚNK Gojo, manhandIing, semi-public, he’s BIG, tummy buIges, D slipping, running from it, bIindfolds, talking you through it, first times (Gojo’s), creampíes, cúmplay, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 11.8k
A/N. Guess who’s back from the beach-each and watched Kpop Demon Hunters-
“And here we have the goddess, the myth, the-”
It would take quite the feat to leave Gojo Satoru - self-proclaimed king of idols (debatable), world-class chatterbox (not debatable) - of all people gaping soundlessly at his screen.
For a second. Two. Three- before he’s sputtering at the blur of incoming comments, “O-oi! Don’t you lil’ perverts think you can get away with flirting with my best friend.” Arms crossed, he nods seriously at his fanbase, “Even I don’t get away with flirting with my be-”
“Satoru, they’re about to cut the cameras.”
“A joke. Obviously.” Smooth. Ever-so-smooth, Gojo’s flashing a winning smile at his stern-faced manager behind the tripod.
It was hard enough to convince Yaga into letting you join his livestream, but as a near-veteran in the entertainment industry, Gojo knew how to handle a little slip-up like this. He’s got this- “Because I am definitely not in love with my best friend, and am definitely not held hostage to say this.”
“...”
“A…a joke?”
In mild concern, the two of you can only watch as stoic, composed Yaga lets out what sounded like a strangled sob. Before whispering to another PR manager on-site, “Write a company statement.”
“Oi-” Gojo pipes up, “Why would you need a company statement when I’m perfectly- user Fushidaddy type another pick-up line and I’m blocking you.”
The dark-haired man chokes through almost tears, “Just start writing already.”
You try to smooth things over from your seat right beside your best friend, this was not what you’d anticipated after Gojo had practically begged on his knees asking for you to join him in one of his Bubble lives. Then again, what else could you expect from anything to do with him? “Ah, it’s alright. I don’t mind-”
“I do.”
Snowy brows furrowed, he’s leaning in closer to the camera to take in every traitorous word-
satorusxkitten: okay but guys think ab it!! he’s rlly talented but no actor so it’s okay if he’s ass at pretending to not be a simp!! can u blame him??
“Blocked.”
P1BANG: took a shot every time he stares at her thinking he’s slick now I’m at the hospital (this live started 3 minutes ago)
“Blocked.”
Fushidaddy: Pretty girl, blink twice if you’re being held hostage x.
“Blocked and reported what the-” Gojo frowns glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes, (thinking he’s slick, thank you very much). Before catching the way you lean in dramatically to flutter your eyes- “Don’t you dare blink.”
As you’re bursting into ribbing laughter, so are the sheer amount of comments asking about you- and he can’t help but entertain the sneaking suspicion that his own viewers were here simply because of you.
At least, that’s why he would’ve kept watching.
Fushidaddy2: Put us out of this pining misery or end the live, kid.
“I thought I blocked you.”
“Okay then.” You clap your hands once to gain the room’s attention, slightly worried about the blood vessel about to burst near Yaga’s temple. “Satoru, I think you brought me here to do a Q n’ A, right?”
“Well yes…” Gojo’s grumbling underneath his breath - that was the initial plan, to finally introduce one of the most precious parts of him to the fandom.
He just didn’t account for the possibility that everyone on the livestream would fall in love with you - when that was clearly supposed to be his job! “Alright- ask away, and no funny business. I’m looking at you, user Fushidaddy.”
sugu-rizzed: Are you single?
“How dare you-”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” You’re nudging the towering man right next to you, subtly moving his hand off of that treacherous block button. “Lighten up, Satoru—”
“Yes, ma’am. Correct, ma’am.”
What a sight it was.
Honestly, you’re sure you hear at least several management staff gasp at just how easily you’d shut up their arguable star. Being the center of one of the fastest bands to sky-rocket into the k-pop world hadn’t made it any easier for an agent to pose authority over Gojo Satoru - Yaga was barely hanging on by a thread and he submitted at least a few resignation letters every week.
Once the on-set whispers break out, you’re squirming in your seat. Rattling off yet another question-
ge.akuge: what do you think about the allegations of him wearing wigs?
“Well-”
“Blocked.”
KunaLuvrr: does he wear wigs?
stanjutsu: will he wear wigs?
Fushidaddy3: Y’know I don’t wear wigs, baby, x.
“I-”
“You- blocked.”
haibarabias: Did u know he was yapping about you non-stop on the last live?
You’re blinking in slight surprise, turning to Gojo - who’d now stuffed himself into his oversized designer hoodie until you could only make out the tips of his ears. His bright, burning red ears. “Really?” Turning to the feverishly nodding staff at his silence, “Really?”
One of the fresh-faced interns in charge of lighting tries to hold back a squeal, “Y-yeah! We tried to keep a tally of your name to edit on-screen but it went into…the triple…digits- eep!”
“E-hem.” Gojo cuts the newbie off with a slight glare, snitches. The whole lot. “I was just talking to them about what a boor you are and to be prepared-”
realistic.one: liar, you were giggling and kicking your feet the whole time-
“-which you would have known if you actually watched me.” Finishing off with relish, he’s mockingly glowering down at you. The perfect vision of a neglected best friend - if it wasn’t for the way that he was flushed all the way from his cheeks to the back of his neck, that is.
And then your fingerpads reach out to pat the silky crown of his bangs, soothingly. “I do watch you, Toru. I must have missed that stream, sorry about that.”
He melts. And there’s tens of thousands to watch him.
“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s briefly snapping a scowl at the screen, already knowing that this particular clip of his voice breaking would be making rounds on the internet tomorrow. Crossing his arms with a huff, he acts like he isn’t nuzzling his head even closer for you to caress, “Tch, you make a shitty best friend, my star.”
Somewhere across the room, Yaga puts his head in his hands and sighs.
sugu-rizzed: My star?? Guys is he…
CandyKento: that moment when you highkey ship them but realize bro has no game
sunflowerboy: Gojo-san fighting!!
Fushidaddy7: I could treat you better, girl x.
torutoaster: wonder what her type is from our boys^^
It’s as if the room itself had hiked a few degrees in temperature, and you’re darting your eyes away from Gojo’s burning ones. From the staff that was snickering behind their hands, giving you knowing looks.
Instead, choosing to distract yourself by answering that last question– “Hmm, my ideal type from Six Eyes, huh?”
“Hah- what a silly little question.” Your best friend cocks his head with a smirk, “Why- tell ‘em, my star. Who else has the visuals? The dance moves? The charisma? Of course, it’s-”
“Suguru.” You smile innocently, whilst the flashy idol next to you crumbles. “He’s such a sweetheart.”
returnofP1BANG: five more shots for that wet cat look he gave her
Fushidaddy9: Ouch (lol).
sugu-rizzed: F in the chat
CandyKento: f
sunflowerboy: F
Fushidaddy10: F
ge.akuge: F
“Tch- childish.” Gojo scoffs at the wave of that same letter flooding his comment section, he’s counting about twenty…before typing his own ‘F’ in there.
Immediately reinvigorated, he’s stabbing a determined finger in the air. “But- but I have something that none of y’all and that stinky Suguru doesn’t have-” And it takes every ounce of will, every shred of shamelessness in his body to wrap two strong arms around you and crash you to his broad chest. Emulating all those hours he’s spent watching k-dramas with you, Gojo’s barking out. “-she’s mine!”
Fushidaddy14: Yeah. Your best friend. LMAO.
“Blocked-”
Masamichi Yaga handed in yet another resignation letter that very same night.
Which was likely why the livestream didn’t last too long after that little catastrophe- and it’s about a few hours later once you’d safely made it home with excuses of work the next day, and Gojo was lying wide awake on his phone, that it happens.
It is sent to him, by none other than Geto - the most unthinkable, unspeakable link to a fan-made YouTube video aptly titled ‘100 Gojo Satorus vs. trying not to make a fool of himself in front of his baddie best friend challenge (failed)”
Edited and clipping every single moment he’d completely n’ utterly destroyed his cool idol façade during the brief live. Every (fine, not-so-slick) glance your way, every blush, every voice crack.
Fuck.
In two seconds he’s sending Geto a paragraph of middle finger emojis, and in one he’s slowly downloading the video…for research purposes.
.
.
.
As a celebrity hair stylist, Miwa Kasumi had never felt that she wasn’t paid enough - after all, nearly unlimited contact with her favorite idols and she gets to see her work come to life on stage? What could go wrong?
Well…she’s feeling her weary eyelid twitch just about the twelfth time she hears the same repeated meme audio blaring from Gojo Satoru’s phone.
Headphone-less. On full volume.
All on the set of one of the most important comeback shoots of this year, the much-anticipated music video for their single ‘Blue.’ Penned by none other than the giggling idiot that was her client.
And it was only considering all her years of professionalism that she didn’t whack the phone out of his hands the way she’s been dying to for the past hour. “Gojo-san, you are quite the fan of that video, hm?”
Subtle cues- subtle cues!
But Gojo was never one for subtle cues, as she has the misfortune of learning. And he only blinks up from his padded seat in front of her, “Huh? Oh yes-” In fact, increasing the volume of the dramatically edited fan video - one of those crack compilations she had the guilty pleasure of watching before bed sometimes.
But Gojo didn’t seem to be watching for the laughs, his twinkling sapphire eyes were only locked on one thing on-screen - you.
Sighing at a short clip of you from the livestream a few days ago, grimacing at one of his bragging monologues. Giggling, he zooms in on you- “Isn’t she gorgeous–?”
“O-oh!” Now, introductions and love for artistry might be two of the main perks of working in such close proximity to idols - but who could forget the gossip. Immediately perking up, she’s setting down one of the curlers and working on fluffing up Gojo’s ethereal white hair for the camera. “Girlfriend, Gojo-san?”
“Not at all.” Dreamily, he’s taking a blatant screenshot of the zoomed-in visual of your face. A man in heaven. “Not. At. All.”
Huh? Maybe all celebrities were just eccentric. What was that one saying about never meeting your heroes?
Well, it seems that the universe decided that Miwa hadn’t learned enough of her lesson just yet- which is why she’s startled by the swoosh–! of curtains being drawn back in the dressing room, and the heavy footsteps of none other than Gojo’s bandmates.
Who could mistake them?
Geto Suguru, long inky hair tied back, slow strides almost predatory, is the first to reach the two - one of them shivering in rapt excitement, the other glued to his phone. “Oi- Satoru, they want you for your solo shot.”
Gojo grunts noncommittally, hands gripping his phone. “Hm-”
Irritation gripping the other’s tone, his best friend taps his feet. “Satoru.”
“Mm.”
“Satoru.”
“…”
“You little-”
It’s a damn miracle that the thin glass of Gojo’s phone screen doesn’t crack with how swiftly Geto’s snatching it from the other’s hands. Only to get a glimpse of the screen and have his mouth drop.
“Satoru…”
“…Suguru.”
Pierced brows furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing with a guffaw at the blatant screenshot of you displayed. Clearly taken from that one compilation video that he had sent the link to a few days ago. Their center gulps. “Satoru, what…the…f-”
“Gojo-san! Gojo-san–!”
The youngest - Haibara’s - sweet, sing-song voice dips through the tense dressing room as he stumbles in - all sunny smiles and the cutest bowl cut. Followed excruciatingly closely by a cameraman recording behind-the-scenes content, “Kento and I are done, so Director Shoko wants you on set now or she said she’ll do some violent things that can’t be said on camera~”
“Of course, of course– you should go, you strange little lecher- I mean, Satoru.” Geto waves the other over, “C’mere Yu, let your elder show you a little something.”
Gojo blanches, “No-”
“Oh? What is it–?”
Gripping onto Geto’s jacket, “No.”
Careful of the rolling camera, he’s mercilessly sidling up to the other and flashing the latest addition to Gojo’s photo album - that soft, slightly blurry screenshot of you. Simply smiling. “Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is right.” Geto’s smizing out such a cat-like grin at the camera- this was sure to have the internet talking. Maybe even screaming. And as the staff with the lens steps closer in curiosity, he’s swiftly covering the screen, “Let’s just say our Satoru is ah- quite the fan of our cute little fans’ creations.”
Haibara titters, “Enough that it’s filling up his phone storage-” Catching Gojo’s groan, ready to jump out of his seat- “Ah, my apologies, Gojo-san~”
Geto nods, “No no, he’s right.”
“He’s not.”
“I am?”
“And remember, kids—” The pierced man calls out, finger hovering over the glaring screen of the phone.
Gojo gasps- “No-” Realizing. Shooting to his feet. “No no no-”
Registering the way his other best friend was giving particular attention to that bright, burning DELETE button. “-always help your friends in need.”
The scream that Gojo Satoru, most polished idol of the 21st century, lets off is devastated.
Enough that the cameraman - watching each interaction like a hawk - jumps, enough that even ruthless Geto Suguru himself feels a semblance of slight regret. Almost turning his thumb over to click on the recycle bin before Gojo can cry himself hoarse- until he’s scrolling just an inch - an inch - along the full camera roll and finding…more…screenshots?
About 75,328 in his album, to be exact. Of you.
He looks at Gojo Satoru - knees cradled in such a pitiful fetal position on the floor, whimpering at the loss of his prized screenshot. And he looks at the 75,328 screenshots. He looks back at Gojo. Then at the screenshots, all 75,328.
Then back at Gojo.
And Geto doesn’t even feel bad about the good kick he’s planting on the other’s back, “Get out.”
If the dressing room was a hellhole made to ruin Gojo’s life - Geto being the devil incarnate, of course - then being on set wasn’t any better.
The long lens of Shoko’s famed camera stares him down like it knew exactly how he was acting minutes prior, and any false façade of coolness would easily break through.
“Ugh…” Shoko’s crinkling her nose in slight distaste at the footage playing on her screen, motioning for the rest of the crew to start putting each prop back in place for a reshoot.
Make-up airy, white bandages haphazardly falling from his eyes, surrounded by sparkling ivory decorations of stars; it was supposed to be something on theme with the song, something romantic, something that didn’t make her want to hack up her coffee in a bad way.
But she could feel her stomach churning already. Leveling a glare at Gojo that’s enough to make the much-taller man flinch- “You- if you can’t do the sparkly idol thing, just try looking at the camera and smiling. It’s all we need for the solo shot today.” Tapping her camera, “Look at the lens like you’d look at a lover.”
Voice octaves higher, “A-a lover?”
His dignity was scarred!
“You got this, Gojo-san! Twentieth try’s the charm–!” Haibara’s voice echoes. “Ah- or was this the thirtieth…somewhere along the line I lost count.”
“Thirty-seventh.” Nanami helpfully supplies.
His reputation as a reliable elder ruined!
“Satoru, good luck! Geto called me- I don’t know why but um, good luck!”
He didn’t call himself the king of idols for nothing!
In a split-second, Gojo perks at the slightly-metallic sound of your voice through the other end of the line. Breath hitched, flashing irises widened- it doesn’t take him even a nanosecond to snap his head towards where Geto was holding his phone up for the sound to project.
Your name flashing on the caller ID, Geto’s smile priggish at the reaction wrenched out of his best friend.
And Gojo can’t help but let the mere sound of your voice make him smile—
“There we go- that’s the shot! That’s the shot.”
The music video is edited and uploaded only a few weeks later, that behind-the-scenes following hastily afterwards.
It was a hit, of course, as every management and billboard had already predicted it would be. But what was unpredictable were the eagle-eyed comments-
SIX EYES - ‘BLUE’ MV
torutoaster: KYAAA THEY REALLY FED US LOOK AT HOW OUR TORU AND SUGU LOOOKKK
ryomichael: not even a satoru bias but…wow…his visuals…the way he looked at the camera made my heart just go…wow
zbstan: stream this song (and esp Gojo’s bridge) for clear skin guys!!
SIX EYES - ‘BLUE’ MV Behind [All]
getosuggs: Geto and Haibara giggling at Gojo’s phone screen…wonder what they were looking at…
torutoaster: wonder why the filming of toru’s solo shot was muted?? strange but as long as we get more content of my bias oh well^^
sugu-rizzed: @torutoaster I think because they were on a call? Oooo imagine if it was Gojo’s best friend from the livestream…
mahitoe: @sugu-rizzed smh delulu shippers
zbstan: @mahitoe STFU look at that caller ID ik they tried to blur it but like there was an anonymous hair stylist on set who said it was so GUYS IT COULD BE-
Fushidaddy17: I would’ve had no problem looking cool for her aha x.
.
.
.
“Takada-chan! Takada-ch-AAAAAAN–!”
Honestly, what a woman to be able to smile politely in the face of a big, beefy high schooler ripping his shirt off from the stands of the stadium. The Idol Star Athletics Championships were always quite rambunctious considering the star-studded players, especially this year.
All lined up in their groups, donning flashy colored tracksuits.
And as the boy starts crying, Geto winces–looking back at their own section of fans invited to attend the annual celebrity sports tournament. Some squealing at the feeling of Geto’s stare, some waving banners hysterically - but thank goodness that none were as bad as-
“MY STAAAAR–!”
Geto takes that back very quickly.
Deadpan, exhausted- the leader of Six Eyes is turning to stare down their infamous center, the exact one who’d been hogging every headline for the past few weeks for his exact antics with you. “Satoru…what are you doing?”
Ignoring him for your figure seated at the very front row–“MY STAR, YOU BETTER CHEER FOR ME.” You pretend not to hear him as he waves frantically, and Geto reaches over to tug Gojo back in line. “Oi- OIII, DON’T LOOK AT NANAMI LOOK AT ME!”
On second thought, he backs away into another group’s line.
You weren’t the only one looking at him now- so were the announcers. Seasoned entertainers who’ve probably never seen a scene in all their years, “Aaaand over in this row we have Six Eyes. Their center - that Gojo boy - seems to be a little preoccupied, no?”
“With the girl? Oh, when is he not? Have you seen the clips from that livestream?”
“Ahh–you know my wife showed me and-” Seemingly catching the eye of whatever higher-up, or maybe the way that Yaga was swooning in his bench as if he was about to faint right then and there. “Ehem- anyways, welcome all to this year’s The Idol Star Athletics Championships–!”
It goes off without a hitch.
Well, as much as it could with Gojo Satoru being in attendance.
Which meant having to wrangle him back by the scruff of his neck every time he meandered off to the shrieking stands to ask you to pet his tired head - “for good luck.”
Which meant having him blow kisses to the stands suspiciously near you as he dribbled expertly during the basketball event, their team tied with yet another idol group.
With only a few seconds on the clock, every eye glued to his sprinting figure - breath stilling just as soon as he does near the netted hoop. Gojo had jumped, and pointed straight at your figure—“This one’s for my star.”
Before he swung.
And…
…missed.
But that was all water under the bridge.
It didn’t matter that it was a failure recorded in 4K on hundreds of cameras, it didn’t matter that you’d been the one laughing the most while watching his precious shot completely miss the hoop and bounce sadly on the floor.
It didn’t matter that his ears were still burning red from embarrassment by the last leg of the tournament - the track-and-field events.
Geto had already won the gold medal in archery, Haibara with silver in football, and even woe-is-me Nanami had snagged a silver in fencing.
And this time, this year’s new addition - one of those borrowed item races you’d play in middle school, those ones where he’d have to run to a box and pick out something silly to bring over the finish line - was about to be his turn.
“Ready…”
Gojo’s steadying into position, making sure his back flexed just right so that you’d be able to see from the stands. And if the way that Nanami sighed was anything to go by then it was working, right?
“Set…”
Azure eyes locked on the small wooden box that loomed a few yards in front of him.
“Go!”
It’s a blur- one moment his expensive designer sneakers touch the ground, and the next he’s one of the first idols to run over to the box. Fighting to stick his hand inside, Gojo’s sure he elbows someone’s dolled-up face to grab the first slip of paper he can.
Tugging it out with a grin, the neat typing stares back at him mockingly—‘Someone you love.’
Fuck.
Why did it have to be this one?
The announcer’s booming baritone breaks through- “What’s this? Six Eyes’ Gojo seems to have stalled? What could that paper say?”
“Run!” Geto’s voice calls over the chaos of countless other artists bee-lining towards their own missions, their own ‘item.’ He’s waving at Gojo impatiently, “Run, you fool-”
“Gojo-san, you got this–!”
In a confused hurry, he’s darting a look down at the staff manning the box - some older, dryly deadpan man who merely takes a peek at his slip of paper and gives a thumbs up. And Gojo could have sworn he smirks.
Well.
“Oh- oh, he’s running.” Both hosts gripping onto the edges of their tables, “The legs on that boy- Gojo Satoru is overtaking his peers easily- ah, we promise we’re not biased.”
Yaga and the rest of his overworked PR team would have to forgive Gojo for this later- but his legs are turning towards your direction in an instant, just as they always have. Running. Sprinting.
“Gojo- Gojo! Is it true you two eloped?”
“An insider source is saying that your best friend was present on-set of Blue- any comment?”
“Are you two dating?”
It’s like he’s running through a tunnel where the only thing he can see is you at the end. Announcers’ voices cotton in his mind- “Oh, we think we know where this is going, ladies and gentlemen.” The only voice his popped ears can hear are yours-
“S-Satoru–!” You’re shrieking, nearly as loud as the throng of fans and cameras surrounding you. Clawing down his beefy upper bicep as your best friend leans his long torso over the barrier of the stands and throws you into an easy princess carry, “Are you crazy-”
“Nah, we’re gonna win, my star.” He has his arms steady, jaw clicking - and you can’t help but feel his strength thrum gently in his arms. Those lucky to be near enough for the entire ordeal would later claim to tabloids that they’d never seen Gojo Satoru this serious.
This…responsible when he’s carefully striding with you in his hold - an easy first place running past the finish line.
Stars in his eyes, mouth turned up into a smile that twitched when he gazed down at your own. Wantingly.
But he only hugged you in thanks, and took your half-joking swats with a smile.
They couldn’t quite blatantly show the cameras what Gojo’s little paper had required him to bring, but you got to keep Gojo’s gold medal after the tournament - it was always meant for you, anyway.
And he gets an earful from Yaga, Geto, Haibara (though that was more grumbling about why those last two weren’t the ones carried like a pretty princess instead), and a few articles speculating your relationship, and a Twitter timeline having a complete meltdown over clips of his race.
A video of those particular few seconds with you in his arms racked up a solid few million views in only a few hours since it was posted- but honestly, one million of those views might just be from him alone.
@torutoaster: THE WAYYYY HE CARRIED HER OMG- GOD I SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE FOR OTHERS-
@CandyKento: did anyone watch the isacs? no but i am soooo curious what gojo’s item was-
@chorusito replying to @CandyKento: no but to bring his ehem ehem- “best friend” it has to be something scandalous right~
@CandyKento replying to @chorusito: right??
@mahitoe replying to @chorusito: lmfao idols can’t date. you guys cant handle anything it was obvs just a friend or something. delulu.
@sugurusshampoobottle replying to @mahitoe: FIGHT ME.
@satorusxkitten: gojo and geto’s arms are so big!! fuck!!
@sugu-rizzed: That staff-member manning the box saw what the paper said oh what I would pay to know…
@fiendingforsixeyes: AHHHH I BET IT WAS SOMETHING OR SMTH HE LOVED IK U GOJO U LOVERBOY
@Fushidaddy33: She would’ve looked better in my arms tbh…
Gojo reports that last account.
.
.
.
“So, who do you think is the cutest from Six Eyes?”
“Me.”
“And who do you think is the best dancer?”
“Me.”
“The most romantic?”
“Ah…” Regular interviews could be tedious - but an interview with a lie detector strapped to you somehow surpassed even the ninth chamber of hell. And Gojo thinks that anyone would shrink under the beady, unwavering gaze of the hostess interrogating- ah, interviewing him right now.
Not a hair out of place, not a lie she wouldn’t be able to catch.
Damn that management for signing him up for one of those lie detection interviews - part of him already felt that this was punishment for rejecting Yaga’s seventh resignation letter since the chaos of the Idol Star Athletics Championships.
And damn Geto for goading him into going first.
The rest of the group watch leisurely from their comfort of a sofa away from the spotlight - thankfully lie detector-less for now - tittering as their bandmate cowers. Gulping through a slightly-wobbly grin, “Me. I’m the most romantic.”
Nodding as the polygraph examiner gives the thumbs up for truth.
“Not quite humble, but quite honest aren’t you, Mister Gojo?”
Gojo’s cracking his neck in his uncomfortable seat, the sooner he can get this over with, the better. Still strapped with leather buckles, “I think you’ll find that I’m very honest about things I truly feel.”
Geto sputters through faux coughs- “Pfft– Liar.”
Nanami looks away- murmuring just loud enough for the microphone to pick up, “Ehem…fibber.”
And Haibara? Haibara merely snaps his fingers in realization- “Aaaah–! I see, they’re calling you a ‘liar’, Gojo-san, because you aren’t honest about your feelings towards-”
“Ah ah!” He tries to make a motion to shut up, but only ends up rocking the chair from side-to-side. And Gojo already knew he was done for the very second he’s catching the hostess’s eyes gleam at this juicy morsel of information.
“Well, I actually did have…” Trailing off, she’s shuffling through her pack of pre-written questions. Painted nails fingering one at the very back that she seemed to have stowed away for when the interviews took a particular turn, she clears her throat. Saying your name-
“Impressively high heart rate.” The examiner drones out, bushy brows raising at what his screen flashed. Just from hearing your name.
As his self-proclaimed friends cackle - those traitors - the hostess shows off her pearly smile, “Mister Gojo, is it true that she’s your best friend?”
Gojo shifts slightly, “Very true.” Truth.
“And she is very beautiful- correct?”
“Very true.” Truth.
“And smart?”
“Very true-” Truth.
“And you’re in love with her?”
“Very tr-” He gasps, “Wait no-”
To which the older lady cocks her head in genuine confusion, “Despite all the shipping- well, it’s all everyone’s been talking about online these days- you’ve never done anything? You don’t have feelings for her, young man?”
“N…no.”
Geto raises his hand in a split-second, almost as if he was some model student in a classroom. “You’re mistaken, my lady, he doesn’t have feelings for her. He has a lot of feelings for her-”
“Suguru!”
The final nail on Gojo’s coffin might just have been the way the polygraph examiner tries - and fails - to keep a largely neutral face. Instead raising his fist in the air, into a blatant thumbs down, next word tinged in amusement. “Lie.”
Gojo fights against the belts tied to his wrist, monitoring his heartbeat, his deception. “It’s faulty, I tell you- faulty. Did you know that polygraphs are actually only 80% accurate and–”
“So you honestly wouldn’t mind if your best friend showed up with a fresh new boyfriend to introduce to you?”
“-I would rather die.”
It’s silence.
Gojo basking in the shock of what he’d just blurted out, everyone else squinting at the overtly clear thumbs up that the examiner was gesturing. A truth. Trying to see whether it would change shape whether they stared hard enough.
Clearing her throat, their seasoned hostess is the first to speak- “Ah- well, that was certainly, um.” Shuffling her cards, she stares at the rest of Six Eyes in bewilderment and they stare in bewilderment right back.
Muttering, “I wish my husband was more like that- anyways.” She leans in close to Gojo, “So if I showed you…” Waving her hand at a few of the tech specialists in charge of the projector behind him, “-this picture with a particular known tattoo artist?”
It wasn’t even a question.
And a damn good thing it wasn’t, because as soon as the screen behind Gojo lights up with a paparazzi shot - one of you, from years and years ago when you were dating that damn tch- asshole Ryomen Sukuna. All bathed in the light of the city at night, pretty hands in his, smile blinding - oh-so-gorgeous that he feels his heart stop.
Literally.
There’s a slight, sharp beeeeep–! that emanates from the lie detector—
Geto stands, “Satoru, what-”
“Gojo-san, are you okay-”
“I know CPR.” Hell, even Nanami was looking on with some degree of concern, “But I wouldn’t do it on you, no offense.”
As the examiner fiddles with his contraption, the hostess is the one to wonder whether she should call over the medical personnel in the studio. Reaching over her lil’ interrogation table to tap Gojo’s pale hand lightly- “U-uh, Mister Gojo-”
Gojo gasps- “Huh? Oh yeah-”
The steady rhythm of his pulse beeps once more on the monitor, albeit it slightly faster than before after he’s setting his eyes on you. After his poor, pathetic heart had skipped a beat just at the mere sight of you.
“He’s ruining the picture.” Gojo’s nose bridge wrinkles, gaze straying back to your smile the way an anchor follows a ship to see. No matter how far and deep they may go. The examiner signs out ‘truth’ as the other man continues, “Can you crop the buffoon out and give me five printed copies of that photo, please?”
“Eh?”
“Eh?”
“Gojo-san, eh?”
Nanami rubs his aching temples, “This is why I’d never give him CPR.”
That particular episode easily became one of the most watched of the season.
Six Eyes’ Gojo Satoru Takes a Lie Detector Test | Heart-stopping Revelations!
torutoaster: WHAT THE FUCK WHEN THEY SAID HEART-STOPPING THEY MEANT IT FRFR-
eathaibara: the pure aura to have your heartbeat stop then the first thing you do is simp over your girl.
100menvsmpreg: @eathaibara wait so are they actually dating?
fluffykento: @100menvsmpreg worse
jennyk10: @100menvsmpreg I meannn-
ButterSixKpop: Need me a real freak like this.
CandyKento: kento is so real ngl
getosuggs: @CandyKento the only thing we love more than satoru is bullying satoru
fiendingforsixeyes: LMAO GUYS HAVE YOU SEEN THAT PERSON GOIN’ ON RANTS UNDER SUKUNA’S INSTA-
Gojo didn’t read these comments, unfortunately, or see any of the edits they were making of him on tiktok. He was too busy spamming comments of his own on Sukuna’s official instagram.
Very colorfully-worded ones.
.
.
.
“What’s your name?”
“Gojo da strongest.”
“What are you drawing?”
“A star.”
For an eight-year-old, Gojo thinks you had the most pensive expression on your face after that particular answer. Brows scrunched cutely, and your tongue sticking slightly between missing teeth- and it was alright, Gojo wasn’t a stranger to the staring.
He knew how to handle all the cooing from aunties at the marketplace, he was used to all the praises for being the fastest kid in all of primary school.
So surely the great, wise, nine-year-old Gojo Satoru could give a fellow classmate as much time as you needed to muster up the very best compliment-
“It’s kinda ugly.”
“Wha- huh?” How dare you- Gojo’s pouting, snowy brows scrunching until you’re giggling. “My star is not ugly.” Sticking a thumb proudly between his puffed-up chest, “And I should know because I’m going to be a star.”
You’re nodding, seriously. “Mm, that’s good.”
And that makes him falter- just a bit, because true superstars never falter. “Y-you think so?” Okay, maybe they falter a bit. But in Gojo’s defense, no one had ever taken his little daydream so seriously, “You don’t think it’s stupid? That I can’t go up on stage?”
“No, why would it be?” Oh. You’re tapping his smudged crayon drawing, “But that’s still an ugly star.”
Stomping, “Is not.”
“Is too.”
“Is…” He looks at you - in all you sparkly humor - then back at his fifteen-pointed star. He looks at you, then back at his brown-colored star for “artistic purposes.” He looks at you, then back at his star with a spotty face on it because it reminded him of Patrick Star. He looks at you and-
“Fine…”
“Let me teach you how to draw an actual star.” You’re stumbling over your words a little, and it offends the great Gojo Satoru that he should be taught by such a child like you, a year younger.
But he does have to admit that you drew pretty nice stars.
Crossing his arms with a pout, “Fine then- teach me how to draw stars-” And the grin breaking your tiny face was too bright, too pretty. Suddenly the classroom is too humid, and he’s scrambling for something - anything - to throw back in your face. “-star.”
“‘Star’, huh?” But you only smile, “I like that.”
Only to have it thrown back in his.
In a way he’s remembering nearly two decades later, your hand in his, your mouth near his earpiece. Quieter than the producers screaming in his ears, but louder than his very own racing heartbeat.
“Take it easy, Satoru.” You’re humming, over the velvety-smooth voice of the MAMA award announcer. The one that was ecstatically saying the name of the very band that Gojo might just have forgotten he was a part of the moment your hands wound ‘round him.
You lift up his dark blindfold, part of his outfit for the day. “Go up, you fool.”
It wasn’t every day that Six Eyes won a MAMA grand prize, and it also wasn’t every day that the best friend he’d begged to be let in as the group’s honorary plus one (also the very same best friend he’d been in love with since he knew what love was) was in his arms like this.
But you’d been in them when after he’d drawn the first star all those years back that you’d deemed ‘acceptable.’ You’d been in them when he decided to take up dancing lessons in middle school, waiting all those hours after dark to walk back home with him. You’d been in them when he entered high school and told you he’d be a trainee slaving the days away in some dingy company basement. You’d been in them even tighter when they debuted.
And you’d been in them the very second their name had been announced as artist of the year.
In front of all those cameras. All those gasping audiences.
And Geto who thumps him heartily on the back, “Get a room later, lovebirds- if Yaga doesn’t kill you that is.”
“Come on, Gojo-san, we have to go up for our award–!”
Nanami flashes you what you swear was a slight smile, “I am happy for you.” Before frowning at a shining-eyed Gojo, “Not quite for you, though.”
“Aww Nanamin, you love me~”
“O-kaaay-” Once the 6’4 mess of limbs had finally set you free, Geto was pushing them all to climb up the stage. In time with the blasting background music of their very own Blue, “Let’s have the aneurysms when we’re on stage.”
But what Gojo had on-stage wasn’t anything to make Yaga wish to retire, or to have Nanami’s pounding migraine throb harder. It was a single, sliding tear - and if the lights glaring down on them were bright enough that no one could tell for sure, then all was well with him.
“To our fans, our family-” Gojo’s starting off into the mic in the middle, deep tone dry and hoarse, metal award cool in his hands. He’s looking at you. “-and my star, this one’s for you.”
It’s all.
And later they’d write articles about the hug, the speech, and what it means that you’re his ‘star’ - but for now, that was for Gojo to know. And for him to step away from the booming mic, letting Geto take his place with much more eloquent words; knowing that in future interviews they’d joke about all the speeches that they had planned.
That Gojo had planned in particular, but nothing came out just right.
Later, he would also wonder why he waited so long - when you were always there in the audience, clapping louder as if it was just for him.
And your best friend mouths—all bedazzled in his dangling earrings, white suit starkly handsome. “Meet me after the show.”
That very same clip is made into a gif that gets replayed about twelve million times before the award show actually ends.
.
.
.
“O-oh fuck-” Your tongue lolls out until it’s hitting midway down your chin, mouth watering with every curly swipe n’ prod of Gojo’s tastebuds.
His nose hits the edge of your treacly cunt and he whines, watchin’ the cute way your pupils roll allll the way to the back. The front of your chest polishing with a few wads of saliva that he can’t lick up right now- no.
Not when his mouth was already so occupied.
All it took was a single step - a single step - inside Gojo’s personal dressing room after the MAMAs, before he’d crashed your lips against his in a way he’d just been dying to do.
Folding you easily over the armrest of the fluffy pink sofa, door locked, sparkly dress hiked up. Gojo hadn’t even bothered to take off your flimsy panties before he’d started making out with your sweet, sweet pussy from behind.
Lavishing his tongue between the crevices of your cunt like he was a man parched- “Fuck, my star.” With your underwear just pushed to the side and his throat vibrating with a guttural groan once he’s feeling your tight, cozy hole clench ‘round his tastebuds.“Fuck- s’all I want-”
“A-are you seriously- ngh–!” And you couldn’t believe anything your hazed mind was telling you right now - not of those familiar lyrics, and not of the smooth, frigid brush of something metallic studding just the end of Gojo’s tongue. “-quoting your song right now?”
“Mmm– can’t help it. Wrote it just for you y’know…” Voice just a bit hitched, just a bit raspy.
There was something in it that made you oh-so-much wetter, and Gojo’s summer blue eyes flash as he’s taking in the sappy slick gluing your shivering thighs together.
“Sh-shit.” Gurgling out the candied taste of you, you were dripping all down his tongue. He’s pulling you close with a hand stuck on your hip, letting your slick splash at the bottom of his throat- and it still wasn’t enough.
“Shit, my star.” His usual lip gloss smeared all over your pussy, Gojo takes the time to lean in and lick it all clean off. Before pursing his lips to once more spit—“Shit-”
He didn’t know what to say.
Your pretty pussy had him speechless, and it’s a damn miracle that he’s not tearing that suit off of his body. Stained all down the front with a snail-trail of your sappy juices-
“Need- this-” Once his heavy fabric strikes the floor, Gojo’s inching even closer in his kneeling position. Thick fingers slide-slide-sliiiiding teasingly between your swollen folds, before tugging on your poor panties. “-off.”
Ripping.
And his little prize is now finding a home somewhere inside his pocket for later, but right now Gojo has to stop himself from fucking salivating as you’re exposed for him.
It takes one kiss before he pants- “Oh my god.”
And another- “O-oh fuck- oh my god.”
Fully shoving his face between your legs and letting you shiver at the feeling of his bejewelled earrings. That sunken in.
Flattened tongue slapping down between your driveling slit, Gojo takes his agonizing time lapping up every inch n’ cranny you have. “My star—” Humming almost drunkenly, his pointed muscle swerves between the insides of your pussylips.
“F-fuuuck–!” Just where you were most sensitive, Gojo lets the stubbed piercing on his tongue slip inside your hole and streeeeetch you out. Slipping out to draw a wet, sickly sweet star– “Since when did you have a- nghh- a tongue piercing, Toru?”
The first answer you’re getting is a sharp swat on your pussy, “Mmm- ever since you dated that fucking bastard with a tongue piercing.” Sukuna. Gojo croons out, more honest than he would’ve usually been. “Never put it in but…I got it because I thought it was your hah- type.”
Another smack!
Another squeezing inch of his pierced tongue trying to fuck into your entrance, he’s impatient. He’s throbbing in his pants with every tiny clench of your gooey insides, “Got buffer, too- cooler.”
“Oh my…god- your tongue, it’s- hck! going in-” Crying out through whines.
“Wrote so many songs for you, my star–” He’s drawling out, and you can feel the scorching breeze of his hot breath. The way that Gojo’s parting his lips even wider to let his tongue glue against your cunt, grinding all the way inside- “Well- heh- not for her, but…”
You’re still hypnotized by the sensual massage of his ridged taste buds rubbin’ across the front of your dripping pussy.
So much so that the lecherous sluuuurp–! drawn out into the claggy air almost shocks you. Your cunt’s letting off the most sexual noises once Gojo’s dragging up a hand to tease your wet clit. “-but I’ll write a song for her as well.”
His metal rings are just sparkling with coats of slick, and your best friend doesn’t waste even a second latching onto your sensitive nub. Dexterous fingers drawing cute circles over and over that have your hips lurching off of the sofa-
“Please- ngh- pleeease-” Your head throws backwards, legs already starting to quake at the utter pressure of having his fingers on your clit. Tongue inside your pussy.
So lengthy that the slimy tip of it mazes between your walls, and Gojo’s purposefully stirrin’ around your insides with the icy edge of his piercing. Chin rubbing all red with friction as he’s leaning in even closer to dig the muscle of his tongue into your sweetest spots, “Yeah- yeah n’ I’ll have her sing-” Another hand this time, another finger - pushin’ deeply inside you. And the syrupy sound is enough to make him close in on the side of the couch and rut- “-lead…h-heh.”
And if you thought being fucked into the cushy surface by Gojo’s tongue was making your head spin, then you’re being driven positively mad by the wild lashes of his fingertips.
Two ringed fingers fighting for space right along with his sticky tongue, Gojo glues the thick crowns of his digits to the top of your g-spot and watches as you shrill. “All the reading paid off, hmm–?”
“Y-you read about this?” You’re blinking through your tears, mouth dangling open once he’s pulling back. All the way to the rotund tips of his fingers- and slamming right down to press on your favorite nerves like a button. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- just for- for me?”
“You don’t know what I’d do for you, my star.” And it would sound sweet coming from your usual best friend.
But Gojo right now looked feral - pale eyes half-lidded, hair unruly, light make-up replaced by slimy oodles of your slick. Worn like a badge of honor, he’s gnawing down on your outer pussy, voice turning into something breathy. Octaves higher. “Noooo fucking idea what I’d do.”
Gripping onto the dampening covers of the sofa, you’re bucking animalistically like you don’t know whether you want to pull away or grind back down for more, more, more. Yelping, “T-Toru-!”
“No- no no no- come back.” Gojo panics, beefy arms wrapped enough around your body to haaaul you backwards.
And when that wasn’t far enough, Gojo’s lust-fogged mind tugs off the blindfold still looped ‘round his neck. Tightly restraining one over your thigh and manhandling you deeper onto his face-
“Sh-shiiit, Satoru–”
“Fuck- haven’t had anything so sweet- so addictive, my star.” He’s murmuring into your pussy, knuckles getting sloppier with all the spanks against the front of your cunt. Tongue lurching in n’ out until his jaw was sore and raw with all the movement- but he’s still rummaging his muscle along your insides.
Gojo’s eating you out like a man lacking a proper meal for eons, and you swear you could feel the way his Adam’s apple bob with each heavy gulp of your saccharine slick. “N’ now I don’t think I can- haaaah- live without your sweet pussy on my face, sweetheart.”
The furniture creaks with every bump of his ravenous hips against the sofa, because Gojo didn’t even want to spare a single handle to jerk himself off.
Not when he could target the throbbing nub of your clit, rolling over it until the harsh pleasure makes you squeeeal. “Don’t have to- don’t- ngh-”
“D’you think so?” That overeager thumb latched to your clit does a quick circular motion that renders your mouth drier than the Sahara. Swooping. Pressing down. “Really really th-think I can?”
“Yes- fuck- yes-” Whining, back arching into such a perfect curve. “Just make me cum, Satoru-”
“Yes, ma’am.” Gojo huffs out a cloud of breath, long lashes fluttering. The rapid thump-thump-thumps of his two fingers burrowing into your g-spot hasten, “But only if you mmmm– say my name.”
“Satoru.”
“Louder?”
“Satoru.”
With your wailing tone knocking off each corner of the wall, it’s like he’s rattling off all the unspeakable dreams he’s had of you. “Thennn– spit in my mouth?”
Almost like he’s testing it out- and you’re snapping your head over your shoulder. Not knowing whether to give him a piece of whatever’s left of your mind, or whether you would spit in his mouth.
But you didn’t need to wrack your pretty brain over it any time soon.
Because Gojo’s shaking his bleary head, “Hmm- guess you already have, though- heh.” Partially-closed eyes locked onto your agape cunt every time you’re suckin’ his tongue in- and it’s only then that you realize he’s talking to your pussy.
Letting your pussy spit out wads of juices that slip n’ slide down his throat, that get fucked back in by his relentless mouth.
Your hands grip the couch, “S-stop teasing– please, m’so close.”
“And then finally—” The tender edges of his fingers scrape your sweet spots in that strangely swooping motion that makes your toes curl restlessly. Dragging it oooon with his lilted bass, “-spell this out, my star?”
Your thighs twitch, the semicircles he’s drawin’ on your g-spot taking the formation of an ‘S’. Then an ‘A’-
“Sa-sa-”
“You got it. You got it, sweetheart.”
With the probin’ deepness of his fingers, he’s flicking his fingertips until your vision flashes white. ‘T’, your favorite dragged-out ‘O’ that makes his pierced tongue swoop in tiny circles, too. “Sato-”
You knew where this was going. Faster. Harder.
You knew, and yet, you’re still letting him finish off a soppy ‘R’ and ‘U’ - branded in big capital letters from the gooey, heated insides of your pussy until you’re finishing off, too. “Satoru- Satoru. M’cumming, oh fuck, m’cumming…ngh.”
With a slight, stiled sob, you’re being run over by your high - just in time for Gojo to twist the orbed piercing on his tongue over in a S-A-T-O-R-U as well. Sloppily salivating down the sides of your slit, your thighs trickle with every ounce of sap you’re spraying out.
Whimpering, deep into the cavern of his mouth- “Sh-shit-” Gojo’s hissing in that airy tone of his, feeling hot wetness seeping into his pants the very second you’re cumming - he is, too.
And yet, the only thing he can think about is dragging out your high.
To strike the bruised n’ battered areas of your walls until your thighs are shaking with every peak of your orgasm, mouth slobbering everywhere and anywhere.
From the pearly spatters of slick sheening your legs, to the pulsing top of your clit. Fucking and fucking your quivering entrance until your body feels all raw and sizzling. Every thrust of his fat, velvety tongue makes your pupils whirl stupidly in the whites of your eyes. “Sh-shit- nghhh- shit.”
And it takes him such a long time to let go of you - especially when he’s this drunk on your pussy.
Pulling back with a final push of his piercing on top of your clit, and the loudest squeeelch—!
“H-heheh.” Gojo whispers against your pussy and you mewl, falling onto your elbows over the cushions of the sofa.
Wearily, you look over your shoulder to take a good, solid look at him - only to feel your heart stutter at the utter grin on his face. Dopey. Glittered with slick. It beads down your best friend’s sharp jawline as he speaks, “Replaced my lipgloss- heh.” He cocks his head to the side, sapphire eyes fluttering priggishly. “Did I ever tell you that was my first time? Been savin’ myself for you, my star…”
Your mouth drops open at his words.
Oh.
Oh.
You weren’t making it out of this alive.
Within a few bats of your teary lashes, Gojo has you pushed onto your back on top of the springy cushions. His towering form hovering over you-
Pinkish tongue snagging at the end of one glistening lip, “You should know…I’ve never done this before either.” He shivers, top layers shrugged off into a pile, golden clasps of his pants unbuttoned—pop! pop! pop!
With your stringy panties pulled out of his trousers, n’ the rest pushed down until he’d sexily bare in front of you. You can’t tear your widened eyes away as Gojo wraps your underwear ‘round his thick, bulging cock and jerks.
And fuck- did it make your mouth water.
Oh, fuck.
Because Gojo was just so big - in every sense.
From the width of his towering shoulders, all chiseled with bouncy pecs. To the way he was so ripped with lean muscle that you couldn’t stop imagining how it’d feel to have them pressed down against you.
A feverish blush drifts down the back of his neck, alllll the way down between his pale happy trail. And right up to the fat, pinkened globe of his cock - all heavy and long. So, so long that it had your thighs squeezing in both fear and anticipation.
You breathe, “Y-you’re so…”
Gojo gnaws down on his bottom lip with a moan, “Mm- yeah, tell me, sweetheart.” Vein-covered fist flying up and down his shaft, the rub of your panties was just so delicious that he’s splurging out a thick wad of precum straight down your slit. “Tell me- tell me.”
“So big.” You’re wondering where he even hid something like that.
Making such a mess.
And he’s made a mess before too - cumming in his pants just from eating you out. So your cunt was being soaked with a few wires of his ivory sap.
Being pushed in the very second Gojo slouches over your body and slaps his thick mushroom tip between your pussylips. Rutting his sloppy hips without even realizing-
“You don’t think it’s weird, my star?” Head hunched, white bangs covering his eyesight. The tone in his voice is thick with something primal, “How I was- haaaah-” And so was his cadence, sandwiching between your soppy folds back n’ forth back n’ forth. “-fisting my cock to the thought of my ngh- pretty lil’ best friend for yeeeears?”
Dragging it out.
Just aaaaaching with a particularly sensual slide of his vein-covered shaft down your cunt, “Just aaaaching.” The knobbled top of his length slips against your oversaturated pussy and plugs up your hole. Hitting it with a damp plop! “For one taste- for anything.”
Your hands claw up to the tufts of his soft hair, pulling and it makes his cock twitch. “Want it in. Please, Satoru?”
“A-are you sure I- hah-” And fuck- his eyes gape as he looks down between your cute, shivering legs. Marvelling at the sheer size difference between the plump girth of his cockhead, and your tight hole. “If it’s too much, I can just put the tip- oh, fuck.”
But you were impatient, and you’re wrapping your legs ‘round his toned waist to tug him closer. Deeper. Inside.
To feel the tender underside of his length scrape your walls, each n’ every zig-zagged vein snaking inside your cunt. Gojo was just so big that your vision flashes black and white with just a few inches stuffed-
“I take it back.” He gasps. He heaves - pants so labored that it was like he’d given up on catching his breath. Trying to hold his head up - failing.
“Take- oh, you’re so big- take what back?”
And the only thing Gojo can do is grab both sides of your waist and use the lecherous leverage to pull and pull you further down his rock-hard shaft. Straining out, his thumb cranes over to push inside a gluey wad of cum. “I t-taaake it back. Just the tip- n-never-” Just one singular taste of your sopping wet pussy on his cock and his voice cracks. “-never gonna be just the tip, my star.”
He’s so untouched, biting down furiously on his lower lip.
Biting down furiously on your sodden panties just as soon as he remembers they’re still in his hands, muffling every whimpering wail that threatens to leave his maw.
“Ngh- ngh- what the f-fuck.” Gojo’s ripping from the back of his throat, head falling backwards to bare his attractive throat as he slips deeper in. Fighting against that snug resistance with a few good half-thrusts, not even able to pull out properly. To even move. “It can feel this good?”
And through your half-closed eyes you’re making out the fact that he’s pinching himself with a free hand. “Or m’I just in heaven?”
You feel his big, bulbous tip swab near your g-spot and start to mewl- “Mmm– and what if you are?”
“Don’t even wanna know if s’real.” Strings of saliva stick to Gojo’s lips as he babbles, still lathered in a layer of your pussy juices from before. And his mouth only waters even more when he’s feeling your hot insides clench around him, “Don’t need to know anything else- ngh.”
Every syllable is punctuated by an almost vulgar rut.
You’re screaming as he’s bullying his slimy, pre-glazed tip inside. Letting the rotund crown of his cock pry apart your cute walls, harder. Deeper.
Gojo smears your pussylips further open with one of his thumbs, letting just the top part of his digit fit into your entrance. Just so that he can fit his cock in fully.
“P-please fit.” Muttering underneath his breath, teeth clenching tight on your panties. Looking up at you ferally through his lashes, “Please- please, didn’t wait s-so fucking long for you not to take it, my star. For this pretty pussy to be left unsatisfied.”
Your nails dig into his back, “Fuck- please- oh my god.”
“It has to fit-”
“Will it?”
“Yes- yes, you’re gonna take it alll, my girl.”Fucking you furiously, sloppily. No rhythm or rhyme - or even sanity in each of his jagged strikes aiming for the very bottom of your pussy, “Has to it has to it- fuck! It has to-”
And when it does - when it finally, finally does - Gojo Satoru is left gaping, your underwear now dropping from his mouth and cleanly onto the floor. Speechless.
Shit, if he hadn’t cum just minutes prior then he’d be creaming himself all over again.
Blinking once, twice down wordlessly at the sultry vision of your bloated pussylips kissin’ his pelvis. Bottomed-out until his cock was swallowed all the way up until those tufts of white at his base-
And then it all happens at once.
In a singular split-second, Gojo has your legs thrown over his shoulder, your knees pushed all the way down to your tits. Striking your spongy cervix with a dull thud of his weepy cocktip, before he’s reeling out halfway and doing it all over again.
And again.
And again and again and again-
You’re just shrilling– “Toru- hck!” Feeling your weary throat clog up with so many sobs n’ whines every time his globular head was piercing your cunt, pushin’ all the way into your womb. “Toru Toru Toru-”
“M’on vocal rest after this, y’know?” He blurts, seemingly out-of-the-blue.
That is, until Gojo stares down at you with such a heady grin, leaned down just close enough that his hot respiration wafts the shell of your ear. And his tongue lurches out to lick up the drooling spittle leaking from each side of your mouth, “So you hafta scream twice as loud f’me, my star.”
Slamming the lines of his chiseled hips against yours, Gojo’s shaft was oh-so-veiny enough that you’re feeling your mind melt at the constant massage of your g-spot. “Like that- nghhh please-”
“Like- like this?” And it’s so difficult to remember that this was still Gojo’s first time– especially when he roams a palm over your tummy to feel for a particular bulging outline and press.
Carnally caressing the cylindrical bump that he was pounding into you, branding the fatness of his length right against your girth. “Shit- you really took it all.” He’s in awe at the feeling of his rotund cockhead pokin’ your very womb, “You wanna be fucked like hngh- this, don’t you? Want it hard? Fast?”
He was speaking utter filth, but his cadence was even filthier.
Shivering hand pushing down on your stomach, the other slithering between your sheeny legs to toy with your neglected clit.
“Your legs are shivering, my star- m’in trouble.” He arches his sculpted back to pick up the ruthless pace, throbbing cock stirrin’ within you to bash constantly straight into your g-spot. “S-sooooo much trouble.”
“More- ngh! Satoru, more-” You’re crying out through wobbly lips, “Want it even harder.”
“Fuck-” Hissing underneath his breath, Gojo’s doughy fingertips speedily smack your slope. Making your legs grow all numb, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- then ngh- yeah, open those pretty legs and take this fat fucking cock-”
With a few more strokes he’s holding onto your throat, pinning you down so that Gojo can scratch the rough texture of his happy trail down your clit until you cry. “This fat- haaah- fuckin’- cock-”
You’re so dumbified by the size and sheer pleasure that you can only repeat after him, stupidly. “Fat- ngh- fuckin’...”
A velvety tongue drags over your salty beads of tears, “Atta girl—” Grindin’ the circumference of his thick cock against your g-spot, Gojo’s biting down on your earlobe just to hear the way you sing. “Louder.” The dangly metal of his earrings are frosty against your own clammy face, sensual. “Louder- let them hear, let them know.”
Uncertainly, your eyes drift over to where the door of the dressing room was innocently positioned. Notably closed. Notably locked.
But your moans were reaching a fever point at the rough bludgeons of Gojo’s cock, the way he was swervin’ his hips juuuust right to snag your sweetest spots.
All those years of dancing helped him expertly target long glides down your g-spot. Leaving a trail of wet mucus from that particular bundle of nerves, n’ straight down-down-dooown to your cute cervix. “Let them all see-”
“S-see?” You’re gasping out in disbelief.
With what almost sounds to you like a growl, “Mhm- yeah, fuck!” Gojo spanks his hips hard enough against yours that the impact leaves his v-line reddening, the papping sound echoing within the dressing room. “You think I wouldn’t fuck you in front of every nosy lil’ camera out there?”
You don’t even know what to say - what to do.
The only thing your pathetic body is capable of doing is gyratin’ back down to meet his tempo. Letting your limp legs tighten over his shoulders, “Y-you would?”
“Oh, my sweetheart—” Gojo’s crooning, snowy brows scrunching together. Giving your treacly cunt yet another hard jackhammer, “If this pussy wasn’t mine and mine alone, then that door wouldn’t even be- hah- locked right now.”
And he was drilling into you like he meant it - like he was furious with himself for holding out this long on the heaven of your sweet, sweet pussy.
Wailing, your eyes crossing at the sheer pleasure.
Now that he’d slurped up one sip, he was eager for the next- and before you know it, the blindfold that’d been dangling on your thigh was suddenly coiling ‘round your ankles. “You’re not getting out of this- oh.” Gojo’s beefy biceps flex as he’s tying your legs behind his neck, all for him to pull back on—“Gonna- gonna fill you up so we hafta be- ngh- prepared.”
Your salivatin’ chin hits the front of your chest and you whine, “Please- please make me cum, mm-”
“Yeah? Gonna make you cum- hah-” Gojo’s mouth hangs ajar, blush so rosy. He feels your goopy walls tighten on reflex and that makes his hardened cock twitch, “Then- then m’gonna fuck you through that.”
Strike after strike.
His swollen lips lean down to suckle on one of your fingers - your left hand’s ring finger, to be precise. “Then m’gonna put a ngh- ring on it. Gonna- gonna I swear-”
Push after push.
“Toru—” Your tits jut up as you’re bowing your back off of the drenched sofa, “-not gonna- gonna- fuck!”
You don’t even have the privilege of letting that sentence finish before your orgasm takes you over, thrumming white-hot zaps of pleasure through your veins. Your teeth set on edge at how utterly good it feels to have Gojo’s fattened cock swabbing your tight hole through every peak, “Oh my god- oh my- fuuuuuck, there’s jus’ so much, Toru.”
Toes curled, mouth unfastened.
Pinching your clit until you’re squeeealing- “So- so much.” He’s echoing in a whisper, crushing you tight to him once Gojo’s finishing off, too.
Abs plastered against your front until you memorize each ridge, his pecs smooth n’ plump against your tits. Your best friend just looked so pretty with his pearly whites grit in a snarl, brows knitted as he’s pumping you with cum until you overspilled.
With thick, seedy knots of cum that blanketed your pussy - his pointed cockhead nudges every droplet inside until you can feel your walls stretch with the utter size.
Thighs shaking with your release, his mess sploshing around inside of you. Your vision was still completely hazy- “Fuck- fuck, Satoru.”
And it’s like the sound of his name plummeting from your mouth sends shockwaves down his spine.
Because Gojo’s staring at you - mushroomy tip still leaky, still slidin’ through the sappy puddle he’s formulating at your cervix. For a good few seconds, maybe even minutes until he’s chuckling–“God, they could see right through me. Everyone could.”
More to himself.
Although those next words were entirely for you.
“I love you.” Gojo’s pale lashes flutter, almost shyly, and you’re speechless at the fact that he was still fucking you. In slow, aching grinds that have him fucking his cum deeper n’ deeper inside you. “I’ve always loved you, my star.”
Your heart quivers, and you can’t help but reach a hand out to run through the sweaty valleys of his locks. Smile dazzling - something he could write songs, ballads, sonnets about some day. But for now it only makes his azure eyes wet, “And I love you, my Toru.”
Something weeps out of Gojo that sounds like a husky, drawn-out groan— and you can feel his thick tip twitch inside of you with a few more beaded dollops of seed.
Cumming for the nth time tonight until all his heavy balls could let out was misty white, just from hearing that you loved him back.
And for once it’s silence.
Calm, warm silence— that is, until Gojo’s pulling his ravaged, red cock just far enough that your cunt lets off the soppiest wet sluuuurp!
You’re gasping, still feeling the rush of your high make your head whirl. Thighs clenching around his broad deltoids automatically, “Satoru- wh-what are you-”
“Oh, well…” Long, pale hands reach for the pile of fabric on the floor - your boyfriend’s pants. And Gojo has the sleaziest grin on his face as he’s digging his fingers into the depths of his pockets, promptly pulling out a lengthy line of condom foils. One he’d packed just in case, just for you.
You’re mentally counting about twenty before he’s letting his proud stack drop right down to your front. “You didn’t think we were done, right, my sweetheart?”
Oh, fuck.
Neither of you are making it out of this alive.
.
.
.
“There’s the wall of perfume, my books- especially songwriting books. And these clothes and, yeah, that’s really it for my room…” Gojo kicks away the pile of his Digimon socks on the ground with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
Something he was sure the cameraman intruding his dorm room would capture, and yet still edit to make something cute out of it anyway.
Ah- such was the life of an ever-popular idol.
And here he was, up bright and early in the morning to let some variety show stomp all through the Six Eyes’ penthouse as a sort of ‘house tour.’ Well, sure he knew that this was bound to be a hit with the fans that probed into his life, but was it really necessary to not even give the man a heads-up?
Plastering on his most polished smile, he nods politely as the camera records a few more details. The hosts cooing over each little thing - all those fan letters he kept, a pretty crayon drawing of a blue star from years ago, and the-
“Eh?”
“Eh?”
“Eh?” Geto’s poking his head in, grin already plastered just in case there was to be some sort of chaos upheaved in Gojo’s room. And why wouldn’t there be?
Gojo’s following both hosts’ lines of vision, all the way down to his bed, “Eh?” Was it not made properly? Was it an offense to have sheets of his own boyband at this day and his age? Or was- “Oh.”
And then Gojo sees it - that.
The familiar, gauzy fabric of your panties that he’d stolen all those nights ago. Hidden neatly underneath the puff of his pillows - well, almost hidden.
Because obviously it was exceptionally still in the bedroom right now- fuck, even Geto had gone quiet from his station near the door, realizing what it was. Attracting the attention of two very curious other members that were currently fighting to get a glimpse-
One of the hosts clears her throat, “Um- Mister Gojo, is that…” Eyes dazzling at the possibility of a scoop this big - all in their almost-family-friendly home-touring show. “Is it possible there’s a lady in your life the fans and world may want to know about? Is this that very same best friend everyone says you pine over?”
And the other host cackles, “Well, they certainly don’t seem to be your size, boy. And ones so skimpy- oho, kids these days.”
Unabashedly pushing a mic into his face, “Anything to say for yourself?”
“Ah-” Gojo coughs out, jumping once the cameraman immediately swivels his lens towards him for his response. “Aha, well- you see-”
Gojo looks at Geto.
“…”
At Haibara.
“…”
At Nanami.
“…Fucking idiot.”
And finally at the camera itself- “Cut the cameras. Deadass.”
Yaga might have bribed the network to never air that particular episode, and Dispatch might have done their best to leak it, anyway.
Right along with a few grainy paparazzi shots of figures that looked undeniably like you two. Hand-in-hand, suspicious blemishes on both your necks, wandering down the sidewalks of Han River.
And if Yaga was having a tough PR day with just that then it would’ve been too merciful of the universe. Because how could you discount the fact that Gojo Satoru, notorious dodger of paparazzi questions, had proudly held up your joined hands and exclaimed at a few buzzing reporters—“Fuck yeah- my girlfriend now, suckers!”
No resignation letter would ever be enough.
@sunflowerboy: let it be known that I always believed in Gojo-san!!
@eathaibara replying to @sunflowerboy: we bow before you great sunflowerboy (the only one to believe in toru’s loser rizz)
@torutoaster: i luv how #go(jo)outthefriendzone is trending worldwide- LOSER RIZZ ALWAYS WINS
@fiendingforsixeyes: HE DID IT?? MY BOY ACTUALLY DID IT??
@mahitoe: tch whatever
@zbstan replying to @mahitoe: womp womp
@sunflowerboy replying to @mahitoe: LMFAOOOO SUCK IT YOU LOSER HATER FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK-
@eathaibara replying to @sunflowerboy: omg sunflowerboy??
@sunflowerboy replying to @eathaibara: sorry got a little excited^^
@sugu-rizzed: I just know pr is SCRAMBLING rn but not as much as my boy scrambled to get that cookie.
@satorusxkitten: bi panic is wanting both of them!!
@ge.akuge: idk what she sees in him it must be the wigs
@CandyKento: the ‘my star’, isacs, the awards speech, the PANTIES?? gojo satoru it was always meant to be idk what to tell ya. now get married
@Fushidaddy107: I still think she’d be better with me smh.
@officialgojosatoru replying to @Fushidaddy107: Blocked.
A/N. This was SOOO self-indulgent omg- ALSO DADDY TONY’S BAAAACK!!
Hey, baby, won't you open up? Split you open like a coconut
You've got a lonely soul, let me give you somethin' warm to hold
nerd!toji has two goals: graduate and prove his family wrong about him being a disgrace. but an annoyingly hot distraction might be just what he needs.
content: 1.2k wc, pure fluff of nerd toji that i needed to write or i'd go crazy
"There he is…"
Poorly hushed giggles from your obnoxious friend group make you slink down in your seat. Could they be any more obvious? You made one little remark about the nerd in your class being a little bit attractive and they all lost their shit, cackling and elbowing you every time they see him on campus.
In all honesty, Toji Zenin is more than a little attractive. His steely gray eyes are amplified by the wire-framed lenses perched on his strong nose bridge. The oversized hoodies and loose shirts he wear do a poor job at hiding the thick ridges of his chest and defined shoulders. His forearms are just as beefy, veins protruding with each flick of his wrist as he writes down equations everyone else fails to understand. You can't not mention that deep scar running over the corner of his mouth.
That mouth that never opens, never utters a single word.
To everyone else, it made him creepier. To you, it made him a handsome enigma that you can't get out of your head.
He never looks behind him in the drection of your friends' taunting. He simply slaps his hefty notebook and a pencil on his desk. He turns to a fresh page and rests his head back on his chair, long lashes fluttering shut. Your friends move on to another topic, but their voices blur into white noise as your eyes are fixed on Toji.
His breaths are shallow, buff chest rising gently under his very worn hoodie. His lips in a tight line like he's still hustling even in his dreams.
The professor strolls in and starts the smart screen for the class to be jumpscared by last week's horrendous test grades. A 60% fail rate. The highest score being a 98. No doubt who that belonged to.
You don't bother looking at the obvious. You accept that you'd have gotten a perfect score if you could just focus. You don't accept how Toji Zenin is someone you might never get the chance to sink your claws into.
Your eyes take in his peaceful face from his sharp chin and upwards until you reach his eyes.
His open eyes. That are shooting daggers into yours.
You gasp. Cupid must have stabbed a dagger right into your back.
He blinks before lifting his head and sitting upright in his seat. As if he didn't just give you a scene you'll replay whenever you fantasize about your one-sided crush.
Toji acknowledged your presence. In your delusional mind, that means you're halfway to dating him.
It had been a few days since The Moment where you locked eyes with Toji. The professor mentioned that his TA would be free taking up office hours to tutor those who show up. No one would show up, besides you, of course, once you realized that poor TA named Toji would be forced to talk to you. How hard could it be to act like you don't understand everything already?
You saunter into the library at 6:37 p.m. Showing up right at 6 would scream desperate. Your necklace tickles between your cleavage that is pushed up by a carefully-selected bra. You stick with a tight-fitting henley and jeans that hug your curves. Casual, but unavoidable. Similar to your flirting tactics with campus's terrifying nerd.
You go deeper into the fourth floor that's designated as a quiet area, sparesly populated with students at their own table. You spot him off to the side wall, sitting at a round table alone. His large torso hunched over a book as he annotated every few lines. His legs manspreading under the table made it look like there's barely enough room for anyone else.
"You gonna keep staring at me or sit down?" Toji's gruff voice calls out to you.
Shit, how long was I staring at him? You shuffle to the table before he ends office hours early.
"Sorry I'm late," You sit next to him, as close as you can without brushing arms.
Your fidgeting hands rustling through your bookbag fills the awkward silence. You pull out your pen topped with a pink cat and your textbook that might as well have been brand new with how little you opened it. Toji eyes all of your shaky movements like you're his prey. Your eyes remain fixed on the hardcover opened on a random page.
Toji taps the dull lead of his pencil against the pages. His legs spread just a bit more as he leans back. His knee brushing yours strikes lightning through your veins. You force yourself to meet his stark gaze. You don't imagine the scarred edge of his lips tilting into a grin.
"Why are you wasting my time?" The rumble of his low voice sends goosebumps up your arms.
"I don't know what you mean. You absentmindedly flick through the books pages. "I need help, duh."
Toji rests a wide hand on yours to stop the annoying whoosh of the paper. He doesn't move it as he leans in closer to prevent you from looking away again. You're face-to-face with the spectacled man whose shaggy hair tickled the sides of his ears. The faint scent of soap and woodsy aftershave tickling your nostrils.
"You're a bad liar," Toji's thumb rubs circles over the back of your hand. "I grade all the tests, duh."
You didn't plan on getting caught that fast. You set up a trap for him only to get caught in it yourself. And there was no way out but the truth.
"Then you should have known that the aswer to number 8 is he sum from n equals one to infinity of one over n squared."
Toji's grin vanishes as quick as it appeared. He swipes his hand off of yours and flicks his thick fingers over his own notes. Thick eyebrows furrowed and pencil scribbling different fractions like you couldn't have given him the right answer. He should have gotten that one right, damn it.
His jaw tightens and he sticks his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Not so smart now, huh, Zenin?" You tap your pen over his notebook.
"Toji." He slaps his book closed with a thwack. "And maybe you'd be smarter if you weren't eye-fucking me every class."
He lets out a gruff burst of laughter, careful to not let others hear, when your eyes widen at his remark. You scoff as if it wasn't true, but you wonder if he can feel your eyes on him every time. How was he so observant when it looked like he lived in his own world?
"Anyway," He continues before you come up with another wack ass lie. "I think you're the only one that'll show up. Let's go for some dinner."
"I'm down." You toss your items in your bag without another word.
"Your treat. Appreciate it, cutie."
Before you can argue, Toji is already paces ahead. You do a light jog to catch up to him. A smile tugs at his lips when you playfully slap to his arm. Not letting go, you can't help but mimic him, blushing at the feeling of his rock hard bicep tighten under your palm.
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