film class with FRATBOY!TOJI. toji's been crushing on you for a while, you had such a deep appreciation for film and he really admired your outlook on things. he approaches you in class and asks if you'd be down to go watch one of his favourite movies together! (fluff, smut) by: @strawb3rryhachi

biology class with BESTFRIEND!GETO. he woo's you in bio with his effortless charm, asking if you'll humor him with a date on valentines day. you, of course, say yes, and the two of you have a sweet dorm room dinner together. (fluff, smut) 18+ ! by: @fricks

history class with NERD!GOJO. you and him are one in the same, so it's safe to say you were both tremendously nervous when gojo decides to finally ask you out on valentines day. the awkward boy suggests you come over to his place to watch a movie and eat some pizza, you happily agree. (fluff, smut) 18+ ! by: @dollhousesinner

psychology class with NERD!CHOSO. choso, the hot nerd in your class, awkwardly asks his project partner if you'll accompany him on a date on valentines day. you accept, and he takes you out to a bookstore to get a better understanding of what makes you tick! (fluff) by: @cassideezlife

accounting class with NERD!NANAMI. nanami can't resist the cute nerdy girl in his finance class, and with valentines day coming up soon? now is a better time than ever to ask you out on a date. he takes you to the aquarium where he tells you about all the fish and you slowly come out of your little shell. (fluff) by: @whispers-of-aurora

philosophy class with MENTOR!HIGURUMA. he's around your age, and totally into you. he'd always been attracted to the shyer girls, and your intellect mixed with your self preservation intrigued him to no end. with valentines day around the corner, he asks you out and takes you to a bistro! (fluff) by: @stellarixe

biology class with FRIENDSTOLOVERS!MEGUMI. there was always an unspoken kind of love between you and megumi, one he'd decided needed adressing with valentines day approaching. after all, he couldn't let you get snatched up by anyone else. he takes you out on a nice date and makes you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. (fluff) by: @kaekuna

art class with SKATERBOY!INO. ino's a little bit on an outsider on campus. so, he's a little nervous to ask such a sweet girl out in fear of seeming too forward or weird. but, valentines day is a good a time as any to try your luck, so the boy asks you out to the skate park. you agree, and it turns out the both of you had been secretly crushing on each other for ages! (fluff) by: @kixxtie

literature class with POPULAR!SHOKO. shoko had a thing for sweet things like you, so she suggests you come with her to a party that's happening on valentines to get to know you better. at said party, she finds you passed out on the balcony sofa and decides to cuddle up with you! (fluff) by: @snorlexi

all works to be posted on the 13th of february AEST, right in time for valentine's day!

and then one night, sukuna followed your instagram.

just like that. no warning. no dm. no mutuals. you stared at the notification for way too long, thumb hovering over the screen while your brain tried to catch up to what the fuck just happened. sukuna. like—frat party, beer pong, way-too-loud, always looking at you like he wanted to say something mean sukuna. the same sukuna who barely spoke to you, who rolled his eyes whenever you talked shit back, who always walked past you at house parties like he knew something you didn’t. you weren’t even sure he liked you. you weren’t even sure you liked him.

you tapped on the profile, but it was empty. no posts. no bio. barely followed anyone. looked like a burner, but it had his name. not the frat handle one—his real one. it felt weird. like a dare.

you didn’t follow back. not immediately.

but it kept tugging at the edge of your mind—why the fuck would he follow you? what was the point? you’d seen him in real life a hundred times. he never acted like he wanted to be seen.

and then a week later, that twitter account posted again.

you were already worked up by the time you clicked. it’d been months since the last video. the caption was nothing, just a timestamp and a black heart, but the second the audio started—his groan, sharp and low—you were gone. the video was darker this time. lighting bad. just the glow of a screen off his skin and the shape of his hand wrapped around his cock, thumb smearing over the head like he knew what it did to you.

and then he shifted. just slightly.

and the camera caught the edge of his abdomen, the slope of his hip—right where the hem of his boxers had ridden low.

and that’s when you saw it. a black spider, fanned across skin, detailed and clean and too fucking familiar to be just random.

your heart dropped.

you’d seen that tattoo before—at a pool party last month, when sukuna came downstairs in just sweats and a towel slung low around his hips. you'd caught a glimpse of it above the waistband. phantom troupe. anime nerd shit. no one else had a spider tattoo like that here. not there. not on a body shaped like that.

your body went still.

the video kept playing. his voice kept murmuring into your room like he belonged there. like you weren’t frozen on your bed, your phone screen flickering just above your chest, your thighs sticky, your mouth dry.

you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until it ended.

and now you can’t stop seeing it.

not the tattoo. not the voice. not the fact that fratboy sukuna—loud, smug, annoying sukuna—has been making you cum from two-second audios and jerking-off clips for the last four months. and now he knows you followed him back. and you don’t know if it’s worse that he knows what you listen to when you’re alone, or that he’s always known.

because that dm comes through the next night.

wanna hear what you sound like when you’re touching yourself to me.

with his mood now improving and zooter jumping off his chest and onto the floor to sleep, the man decides it’s time to clock out and pass out.

only, when he gets all comfy under the covers, his cock decides he’s got other plans. an itch only you can satisfy.

well, not actually you, no.

but the sight of you? hell yeah.

you were taking over his pathetically horny brain as of late. the beloved onlyfans girl he’d fucked his fist to every night for the past three months. unfortunately, you were located hours away. (and yeah, he’s done the whole cross-referencing, stalkerish pinpointing off photos on your thriving instagram.)

so, even if you did the whole sex work thing, he couldn’t indulge even if he wanted to. he couldn’t fantasise about bumping into you on the street, or even interacting with you outside of watching your videos. so the best he could do was donate a little extra and make sure your views were up.

he took his phone and opened up the home page of OF. a new video pops up from your account just like he knew it would. it’s pathetic how well he knows your upload schedule, hell, he knew it better than his own class timetable.

he hits play as his left hand snakes down into his sweats, pumping at the thick, hard base of his cock.

the video starts with you yapping a bit about your day, showing the camera your new nails with a pretty smile on your face. sukuna smiles, this is why you were his favourite (and only) OF model.

you had a beautiful sense of style. your lounge room alone radiated that amber and deep red type of vibe, with candles and small, multi-tile stained lamps giving off the only glow of light. like kim kardashian’s old 2000s home, not whatever minimalist bullshit she had now.

sukuna fucked with it heavily.

you were always cracking jokes at the beginning, smiling like you were there with your hundreds of thousands of viewers, reminding all of them you were a person and not just a body for them to gawk at. that’s most likely why you were your area’s top creator, and why your comment section was significantly less disgusting than others.

you finish up your little spiel about your nails and begin to undress.

as you begin to play with your nipples, sukuna palms his cock in time with your movements, picking up the pace as your hand moves lower and lower and lower.

the video plays on, and he listens to your voice intently. you had brilliant vocal cords, was that weird to say?

he focuses on the tone, the adorable way your voice cracks when you get ahead of yourself. he’s pumping, pumping, when suddenly, he hears you make a noise so hot he physically jolts into his palm.

it’s a soft, sensual “fuckkk.” he feels his body light up with excitement.

this. this is what he was missing.

after he finishes up (ungodly nut, by the way), he cleans himself and hops back into bed. only, instead of shutting off his phone and tucking in, he reopens the video.

he plays the soft curse over and over again, until he can literally hear it morphing with the track he’s producing.

he smiles to himself, screen-records that section, puts it into DAW, and isolates the moan.

“god, i’m a fucking genius.”

~

two weeks later, you’re happily sipping on a sweating glass of rosé in your to-die-for city apartment, scrolling through your instagram dms.

you swirl the liquid in your glass as you skim through the horny guys, the overly passionate fangirls, and the scammy brand deals.

after replying to a few of your devout followers, a specific message catches your eye.

among the multiple “I LOVE YOU AND YOUR CONTEXT SO MUCH AH!!”'s and, “i wanna fuck you so bad…”'s you see a simple few words with a link.

@/hotoo.2929 hey, this guy sampled your voice on his song and it’s been popping off on soundcloud. -> https//ryo

“hmm.”

you click on the link (media literacy of a frog but fiwb) and the song starts playing.

you lean back into your couch cushions and let the slightly more intense beat than what you’re used to invade your ears.

the lyrics are clean, the beat is nice, overall the song actually slaps. but it’s the first few seconds that get you.

you could never mistake your own moan.

it’s expertly encased and mixed to blur with the audio, sounding like it was made to be a part of the track.

whoever wrote this has some serious talent, it’s giving metro boomin-level production.

obviously, you click on his profile to see what this guy is all about. if he was anything like his voice, you were expecting some guy in his 30s from the low decibel.

you see he’s made quite a few songs, none you recognise, but they have to be pretty popular with the amount of plays he’s pulling.

you click the link to his instagram in his bio, and surprise surprise, he was already following you.

upon closer inspection, you quite literally have to slap a hand over your mouth.

this guy was smoking.

he had two posts. one was a series of sexy, low-exposure gym pics showing off his insanely defined muscles, and the other was him with both arms wrapped around two equally attractive men, tagged @/toji.fush and @/cho.kamo.

he had piercings on his face and tattoos all over his body. yes please.

you bite your lip and follow him back, deciding to shoot him a message as an idea pops into your head.

@/y/n.baby: hiii! i love your new song so much, do you mind if i use it in the bg of my next of viddd??

sent✓✓

~

a few hours away, sukuna is in culinary class with the smell of scallops warm in the air. the chef teaches him and his classmates how to sear the seafood perfectly on a hot plate.

he’s been in a pretty sweet mood recently. after releasing your song (as he likes to call it), it’s been doing tremendously. he’s racked in 100,000 plays in two weeks. that’s like, crazy numbers.

as he’s locked in flipping the perfectly golden-brown pucks, his phone on the bench next to him lights up with a notification from instagram.

he briefly looks down when, wait.

“what the fuck?” he says loudly, slapping a hand over his mouth like he didn’t expect it to come out so brash, laughing awkwardly at his classmates who are now peering over. “shit, my bad guys.”

he puts his pan to the side off the heat and picks up his phone.

a message notification, from your username?

@/y/n.baby: hiii! i love your new song so much, do you mind if i use it in the bg of my next of viddd??

seen✓✓

oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.

ino, sukuna’s only close friend in cooking (all his other friends did business or finance, eugh. have some spice, guys), peeks over the larger man’s shoulder and lets out a laugh.

“hey man. isn’t that the chick you’re highkey obsessed with? you should totally say yes.”

sukuna lets out a disbelieving laugh and nods.

“yeah, yeah i should.”

@/ryomen.sukuna: hey, thanks so much. i don’t mind at all, sweetheart.

sent✓✓

@/y/n.baby reacted to your message with ‘❤️’.

~

like any man would do in sukuna’s situation, from that point on he obsessively refreshes your page even though he knows you’re not due to upload for another few days.

one night, when he’s playing with zooter on the kitchen counter, he feels a ping go off in his pocket.

he reaches in and pulls out his phone, only to see that the notification has finally come through.

@/y/n.baby has posted a new video ;)

oh fuck yes.

he gives zooter a kiss on the head and quickly scoops his gourmet wet food into his little personalised bowl (only the fancy shit for his baby), then rushes to his bedroom, locking the door behind him like he has a human roommate who could ruin this amazing moment.

flopping onto the bed, he pulls up the video and notices the runtime is exactly three minutes and thirty seconds. the same as his song.

he’s getting embarrassingly giddy over this for such a big, strong man.

he watches as you lean toward the camera as the song starts playing, your pretty face taking up most of the screen in the moody light of your lounge.

“hello my beautiful babies, i wanna give a quick shout out to ryo, who wrote this song in the background!” you lean back against your couch, then quickly move toward the camera again.

“oh yeah, i forgot to mention he even sampled my voice in this track! everyone should go stream!!”

the grin on his face is so big he feels his cheeks start to ache. you were seriously so adorable.

normally, this is where he’d pull out his cock and start stroking in time with your movements, but he can’t. all he can do is stare in awe at your body moving with the rhythm of his song.

he watches your smile widen when you hear your part, like it makes you genuinely happy that someone put so much effort into incorporating your voice into something.

letting out a disbelieving laugh, he pays close attention as you grab a red toy and start fucking yourself on it for the camera.

yet, today he’s not as focused on the act. he’s in shock at how you seem to be getting off on the sound of his bars.

every time his lyrics float through the air, you speed up with the track, and it drives him wild.

he’s harder than he’s ever been, but he can’t do anything except watch.

the video ends when his song finishes, right after you blow a kiss to the camera. one that strangely feels very directed at him.

was he probably delusional and parasocial? yeah. but he doesn’t give a fuck.

sukuna stays still with the phone resting in his lap, the screen dark.

holy fuck.

you made a video to his song.

and not just used it, but borderline got yourself off to the beat.

he drags a hand down his face and stares at the ceiling for ages, then exhales a laugh that’s stunned and giddy all at once. his chest feels too full, like he needs to do something with it or blood will start pumping out of his pores.

he sighs and opens instagram. your conversation is pinned at the top of his dms, he keeps it there because scrolling down started to get annoying when he wanted to reread it (pathetic, he knows).

he opens it and contemplates texting you again, sending some suave line that’ll probably weird you out. was he being creepy?

he pushes the thought aside and bites the bullet.

fuck it.

he sends not one, but two messages. what a brave boy.

@/ryomen.sukuna: hey, really digged the new video, sweetheart.

after a second, he adds the other.

@/ryomen.sukuna: and thanks a bunch for using my song 🖤

okay, when the hell did he ever use hearts? when was he this polite? you were seriously screwing with his head.

he almost chokes when your reply comes thirty seconds later.

@/y/n.baby: hey, thanks so much!

it’s so simple and sweet. he smiles before he can stop himself, shoulders loosening a little.

then another message pops up.

@/y/n.baby: i loved the sound of your voice while i was touching myself 🙈

oh.

oh wow.

his cock starts to throb like never before. he stares at the message like a seagull eyeing your chips.

his whole body feels hot and sweaty. his thoughts plunge straight into horny fantasy.

he types, deletes, types again, deletes, types.

@/ryomen.sukuna: oh yeah?

real creative, ryomen.

@/y/n.baby: yesss!!

@/y/n.baby: but you know

@/y/n.baby: i could really use the real thing, yfm ? 🙈

his mouth opens and he almost moans.

you can’t be serious.

his fingers dance over the keyboard as his face somehow heats up more.

@/ryomen.sukuna: you’re such a tease.

sent.

three dots appear instantly.

@/y/n.baby: [address]

@/y/n.baby: [time]

he stops breathing.

then chokes like a loser.

the phone lowers as he stares at the off-white wall across from him, suddenly the most unreal thing he’s ever seen. his thoughts completely stall out.

this can’t be real.

two weeks ago he was losing his mind over a missing piece in a track. now the song is climbing the charts like crazy, you made a video doing yourself to it, and now he was staring at your actual address sitting there as a hook up invite.

what the fuck is his life.

he takes a deep breath and types,

@/ryomen.sukuna: i’ll be there.

sent.

a second passes.

then you like the message.

oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.

another notification pops up, this time an image?

he opens it curiously.

it’s you, dressed in a lingerie set that makes your body look unreal. it’s the same shade of pink as his hair. fuck, was that on purpose?

you’re lying on your stomach with the camera angled just right so he can see your ass. you’re throwing up a peace sign with that pretty smile you always wear.

the photo is captioned in the bottom right corner: can’t wait.

he drops back onto his bed like his legs give out, phone clutched to his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, a wide grin pulling across his face.

he lets out a long groan that's kind of also a laugh.

what the fuck.

what the fuck?

this was never part of the plan.

he was supposed to finish a song, maybe post it, maybe get a few extra plays. not this. not you.

he finally sits up, runs a hand through his hair, and lets out a quiet laugh that sounds more awed than amused.

“guess i found the missing piece,” he mutters to nobody.

his phone lights up again in his hand, your photo still open, pink fabric and that smile burned into his brain. he locks the screen, sets it face down on the mattress, and stares ahead with a grin he can’t get rid of.

tomorrow, the track keeps climbing.

tonight, he’s not sleeping a second.

you don’t answer with words. you just run the last few steps and crash into him, letting him catch you like he always does. one thick arm wraps around your waist and the other slides up your spine until his palm cups the back of your neck.

the outlaw smells like gun-oil, leather and smoke as usual. you bury your face against his throat just enough to breathe him in.

“missed you,” you mumble into his warm skin.

toji hums, low and rough, “know ya did, girl. c’mere.”

he walks you backward into the barn without letting go until the golden light fades behind stacks of old hay. there’s a blanket already spread out on the dirt floor from your previous secret meeting and he lowers himself onto it, dragging you into his lap like you weigh nothing at all.

you settle instantly, knees bracketing his thighs with your petticoats pooling around you both. his hands find your waist and his thumbs stroke over the curve like he’s memorizing it.

you start talking before you can stop yourself. just the way you always do when you finally get him alone.

“pa had three different ranchers in the parlor today arguing about water rights again and mrs. caldwell brought that awful lemon cake nobody likes and and and! oh, lord help me—tommy grayson tried to talk to my father about marrying me for the fourth time this month and i swear i almost threw my teacup at him—”

toji just listens.

he always listens with those green eyes half-lidded, scar at the corner of his mouth twitching whenever you say something that makes you giggle. one of his hands slides up your back, slow and soothing while the other stays possessive on your hip.

he lets you ramble until your words slow and your cheek is pressed to his shoulder, fingers toying idly with the collar of his faded black shirt.

that’s when you notice the hat. it’s pushed back on his head now, revealing the dark hair that’s always a little too long and a little too wild. you’ve never touched the stetson before. never really dared to.

it’s as much a part of him as the twin revolvers he wears low on his hips, as the wanted posters tacked up in every sheriff’s office.

curiosity gets the better of you and you reach up a tentative hand, lifting the stetson off his head.

toji goes very still beneath you. you don’t notice at first. you’re too busy settling the hat on your own head, the brim flopping over your eyes because it’s just so comically large on you.

you laugh softly and push it back so you can see. you twirl a little finger beneath the edge like you’ve seen those girls in saloons do.

“how do i look?” you ask in a playful and innocent tone.

the sound the dark-haired man makes is closer to a growl than a laugh and you freeze at that.

toji’s hands clamp down on your hips hard enough that you gasp at the sudden switch. his eyes have gone dark, pupils blown wide and when he speaks his voice is low, “do y’know what it means when a woman takes ‘nd wears a man’s hat like that, girl?”

you shake your head, honest and wide-eyed. the hat tips further with the motion.

the outlaw leans in until his lips brush the shell of your ear, “means she’s fixin’ to ride him.”

heat floods your cheeks so fast you feel dizzy. you flutter your lashes quickly as embarrassment fills every corner of your body. you’re unaware that it’s an exaggerated example of what the move actually means.

toji simply wanted to tease you, to make it seem like you’ve done something extremely sinful.

“toji—”

“means she’s sayin’ she wants this big, bad outlaw to bend her over and ruin her right where anyone could walk in,” toji continues with a wicked glint in his eyes, enjoying every little change in your facial expressions.

his palms slide down, cupping your ass through layers of cotton and lace, dragging you forward until you feel exactly how hard he already is, “that what you’re tellin’ me, sugar? with my hat on your pretty little head?”

“i didn’t know,” you whisper, but your hips roll on instinct to chase the friction and the lie dies in your throat. you instinctively start to lift the hat off, “here, you can—”

toji’s veiny hands stop you, keeping the stetson exactly where it is. “leave it,” he commands with a slow grin tugging at the corner of his scarred mouth, “wanna see it bouncin’ on y’r pretty little head while you ride me.”

you swallow. the loft feels smaller all of a sudden, the air thicker. he shifts beneath you—just enough that you feel him, hard and familiar against the inside of your thigh.

toji brushes a thumb across your lower lip. “you been talkin’ all sweet about pie and schoolmarms while sittin’ in my lap wearin’ my hat. you tryin’ to kill me?”

“no,” you whisper, but your hips keep on grinding against that swollen bulge in his trousers.

he makes a low amused sound in his throat and tugs the laces at the back of your dress loose with one hand. the fabric parts and cool air kisses your shoulders before brushing the tops of your breasts.

you aren’t wearing a corset tonight—hadn’t bothered as you know where you were headed—and the realization made his eyes darken further.

“look at you,” toji murmurs, his voice a rough drawl that sends shivers racing down your spine. his calloused fingers trace the edge of your chemise, dipping just low enough to graze the swell of your breasts.

“all dolled up for me, but skippin’ the frills underneath. you plannin’ this, sugar? comin’ out here with nothin’ but thin cotton between you and trouble?”

you shake your head, but the denial feels weak even to you. heat pools low in your belly as he peels the dress down your arms to expose your chemise. the thin white fabric clings to your skin, your nipples already peaking against it from the chill. or maybe from the way his gaze devours you, like you’re something pure he’s about to shatter.

toji’s hands are huge and dwarf your waist as he lifts you just enough to bunch your skirts higher, his thumbs pressing into the soft give of your thighs.

you’re so much smaller than him. always have been. his broad shoulders and thick arms make you feel like a fragile doll in his grasp. he likes that, you know he does. likes reminding you of it with every touch, every time he manhandles you into place.

“goddamn, y’re small compared to me,” toji growls, one hand pushing parts of the chemise down and out of the way.

your breasts spill free and he wastes no time cupping them, his palms rough and warm against your sensitive skin. his thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them into hard peaks that have you arching into his touch with a whimper.

“these tits of yrs fit right in my hands. bet no one’s ever touched ‘em like this before me, huh? not that prissy tommy grayson or any of those ranch boys sniffin’ around your daddy’s parlor.”

you bite your lip and shake your head again. you know how possessive he gets, can see the dark glint in his eyes hinting at it, “n-no. only you.”

“mm yeahh, as it should be,” his scar twists with his smirk as he pinches one nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you gasp and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes from the sharp pleasure and pain.

toji leans in and his breath is hot against your skin before he takes the other into his mouth. his tongue swirls around it and he sucks hard enough to make your hips buck against him involuntarily.

the friction of his trousers against your bloomers sends sparks shooting through you and you grind down harder, chasing it. toji groans around your breast and the vibration makes you whine.

he switches sides, lavishing the same attention on the other, his free hand kneading the one his mouth just left. your fingers tangle in his dark hair to hold him there as your body trembles uncontrollably.

your boyfriend pulls back with a wet pop, his lips glistening. “cryin’ already? we haven’t even started, doll,” his thumb wipes at the tear that’s escaped down your cheek and he brings it to his mouth, sucking it clean with a hum, “tastes sweet, jus’ like you.”

your heart hammers in your chest as he reaches between you, his knuckles brushing your inner thigh through the thin fabric. “s-sensitive,” you shiver at the slightest of contact between your thighs.

toji hums and hooks a finger under the edge of your bloomers before tugging them down, exposing your pussy to the cool air. you’re already slick, embarrassingly so, and he chuckles darkly when he feels it.

“look at this pretty little cunt—all wet for me,” he coos as two thick fingers part your folds. you keen as he circles your entrance, gathering your arousal. he whistles as he mumbles to himself, “wheww, how the hell do ya even take me in this tight hole. . .”

“toji, please,” you beg, your voice breathy and needy. the hat tilts on your head as you rock against his hand to show your desperation.

the dark-haired man slides one thick finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. you’re so tight around just that one digit, it’s driving him crazy. he adds a second before scissoring them to prepare you for the real thing.

the stretch burns a little, but it’s the good kind—the kind that has you clenching and moaning. two of those calloused and meaty fingers are enough to fill you just right.

“that’s it. open up for me,” his free hand grips your hip, guiding your movements as you ride his fingers, “need ya all nice and ready ‘cause y’re gonna ride me reaaal good, yeah?”

toji works you like that for what feels like forever, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles until you’re teetering on the edge. just when you’re about to tumble over, he pulls his hand away and leaves you aching.

“ah, toji!” you whine, tears spilling freely now that you’re denied your much needed orgasm.

your boyfriend simply grins at your needy little noises. his hand trails down, unbuckling his belt with slick fingers, “patience, little girl. you’ll get what ya need.”

his cock springs free with a soft smack against his lower abdomen. it’s thick and heavy, the tip already leaking pearly cum. it’s girthy with veins bulging along the length, the head flushed an angry red.

it’s thick enough that your fingers can’t fully wrap around it. compared to your petite frame, it looks like it shouldn’t fit, but it somehow always does. which never fails to leave you sore and satisfied.

toji strokes himself lazily while simultaneously smearing your glistening wetness along his shaft. “now c’mon ‘nd ride this cock.”

you nod eagerly and lift yourself on shaky knees. he helps position you, one hand steadying his cock at your pussy while the other holds your waist. the bulbous head nudges against your warm folds before you sink down slowly, gasping at the stretch.

it burns like it always does at first. your walls flutter around him like they can’t decide whether to pull him deeper or push him out.

“oh god—too big,” you whimper as your nails dig into his shoulders. tears stream down your face, but you don’t stop. inch by maddening inch, you take him whilst your body trembles with the effort.

toji’s jaw clenches and his grip turns nearly bruising on your waist. “fuckk, y’re tight. like a goddamn virgin no matter how many times i stretch this hole loose,” he watches where you’re joined with his eyes hooded, “look at you, takin’ it like a good girl. cry all you want—just makes me harder.”

when you’re halfway down, you pause. your breathing is ragged as you take a moment to accommodate.

his throbbing dick fills you so completely, the pressure bordering on too much. however toji doesn’t let you stall. his hands pull you down further by your middle, impaling you until your ass meets his thighs and he’s buried to the hilt.

“there we go,” he rasps and his head falls back against the hay, “all of me inside this lil’ snatch. feels like heaven, don’t it?”

“y-yes, oh—mmh,” you shiver at the feeling, body trembling a little. your hands seek stability on his broad shoulders and your nails dig into the leather of his vest.

your walls flutter around him as they adjust to his impressive size. to say that he’s just well-endowed is an understatement.

toji groans and his hips twitch up involuntarily when he feels your pussy squeeze him, making you yelp.

“ride me, sugar,” he commands, his voice low and filthy, “bounce on this cock like ye mean it. show me what my girl can do.”

you start off slow, lifting yourself up before sinking back down. the slide is exquisite with his dick dragging against every sweet spot inside you. toji’s large hands roam around in the meantime—squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling on your hips to help you find a rhythm.

“faster,” he growls and his scar pulling taut as he bares his teeth slightly, “chop chop. ride me like the cowgirl i know ye are.”

“mmmh—tryin’,” you pant, ass jiggling with each downward thrust.

you can barely keep up and you’ve just started. it feels that good—even if it’s wrong to be together with a criminal like this. but you can’t think about that right now.

you pick up the pace, your breaths coming in pants as you slam down harder. the hat bounces with each movement, just like toji wanted, and he watches it with a predatory gleam. it’s addictive to see you wear a part of him while you’re engaged in such lewd intimacy.

it only intensifies the sin you’re committing.

your breasts jiggle in time with your hips and he can’t resist leaning forward to capture one in his mouth again, sucking and biting until you’re sobbing.

“ohhnn—too much,” you cry, but your body betrays you by grinding down to take him deeper. the stetson slips forward and shadows your face, but he tilts it back with a finger under the brim, wanting to see every expression.

every tiny change in it.

“too much? nah, ye can take it,” toji thrusts up to meet you, the impact jarring a fresh wave of tears from your eyes, “look at those pretty tears. cryin’ ‘cause my cock feels so good, huh? poor thing.”

his words send a thrill through you, the realisation kicking in that he gets off on seeing you like this.

you’re the mayor’s daughter, all prim and proper in town, but here? here you’re his. all wanton and wrecked, riding a wanted man in an abandoned barn where anyone can stumble in.

“what would y’r daddy say if he saw ye now?” toji taunts even further, his hands guiding your hips in a brutal up-and-down rhythm, “his sweet girl bouncin’ on an outlaw’s dick, wearin’ his hat like a badge. begging for more.”

“don’t—don't say that,” you gasp, but the filthy words only makes you clench tighter around him.

your secret lover laughs, rough and breathless. “truth hurts, sugar. but ye love it. love ridin’ this cock like one of ‘em saloon whores.”

the barn fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your moans mixing with his grunts. sweat slicks your shiny skin, making everything slippery and hot.

toji’s thumbs dig into your thighs before spreading you wider to he watch himself disappear inside you over and over.

“shittt, y’re swallowing me whole,” he mutters, his voice deepening with need, “so fuckin’ tight—gonna ruin you for anyone else. no one but me gets this pussy.”

"yes, yes, yes—only you," you babble, too lost in the pleasure. your hips and thighs burn from the effort, but you don’t slow down. the coil in your belly tightens and only winds higher with each thrust, “nnghh, it’s too deep!”

toji laughs, low and filthy, one hand sliding between you to rub circles over your clit. “that’s the whole point, doll. gotta ruin ye proper, make sure you feel me for days,” he licks his lips, fingers flicking the bundle of nerves to hear those pretty moans louder.

“every time ye sit that ass down at yer papa’s dinner table, you’ll remember this—my cock reshapin’ your insides,” he adds with a dangerous glint his jade eyes.

it’s a nasty thought, but you can’t help but imagine it; imagine the way you’ll sneak back home after this, an innocent smile on your face as you converse with your oblivious parents, acting like you haven’t been riding an outlaw just hours ago.

and the evidence of the secret tryst that only you are aware of, is your cunt that’s filled to the brim with his semen.

“not fair,” you moan and shiver, pussy spasming at the idea.

your body then moves on instinct, driven by the fire toji’s ignited in you. a fire that’s burning away every last shred of your innocence. each rise and fall on his cock sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. it’s almost too much.

sharp pain shoots through your spine as you feel the fat tip prod at your cervix, more tears spilling down your cheeks. it hurts, but it hurts good.

“that’s got ya all hot ‘n bothered, hm?” toji murmurs against your skin, thrusting up hard to meet your descent, “nasty girl.”

toji’s hands roam possessively over you, one splayed across your lower back to guide your rhythm whilst the other kneads your breast with rough tenderness. his thumb flicks repeatedly over your nipple in time with your bounces, making you whimper and clench tighter around him.

“look at you,” toji growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest and into yours, “tiny little thing, takin’ all of me like ye were born for it. that tight pussy's grippin’ me so hard—feels like y’re trying’ to milk me dry already."

you’re so small compared to him. your body is easily dwarfed by his larger frame and it only heightens the thrill for the outlaw. he could break you if he wanted. easily so. but instead, he’s unraveling you thread by thread, corrupting the mayor’s precious daughter into his willing plaything.

your father would faint and never wake up if he knew that his daughter is fooling around with the man he loathes—the man he’s been trying to catch and put under the guillotine.

tears well up in your eyes again as the pressure builds, your entire body burning from the effort, but you can’t stop. no, you won’t stop.

“tojiii, i—it’s building. can feel it,” you gasp and your nails rake down his long-sleeved shirt, leaving faint trails on the fabric. your hips grind down harder to chase that sweet friction against your clit where it rubs against his pelvis.

“oh yeah? gonna come for me, sugar?” toji’s hand slides down to your parted and slick pussy lips, his thumb finding your swollen clit again before circling it with merciless precision.

the added stimulation makes your eyes roll back into your head and your rhythm falter as ecstasy coils tighter in your core. your lover hisses, “mhmmm—show me how much ya can cream all over my cock.”

his encouragement are going to be your undoing. the filthy praise laced with that possessive edge, reminding you once more just how taboo this is.

you’re not supposed to be here, straddling a dangerous criminal in a hay-strewn barn. but god, it feels right. the corruption of your once pure and proper mind and soul sinks deeper, twisting your innocence into something dark and needy.

“ah, fnghhh! tojiii—” you sob his name uncontrollably, your body tensing as the orgasm hits hard. real hard.

it starts in your toes, curling them against the blanket before racing up your legs in shuddering waves. your pussy clamps down around his thick cock in rhythmic pulses, squeezing his massive length like a vice.

“oh nonono, am coming!” you wail and the sound echoes off the barn walls, raw and unrestrained. tears stream freely down your cheeks now, hot and salty, blurring the sight of his scarred face twisted in dark satisfaction.

every muscle in your body seizes and your back arches as ecstasy rips through you. your hips buck wildly, grinding down to take his twitching dick in deeper, the friction on your clit prolonging the bliss until you’re gushing all over his lap.

your cries turn to broken whimpers, your small frame trembling against his much larger one as you lean against his chest.

toji watches it all with dark and hungry eyes, his grip on your hips bruising as he thrusts up into your spasming pussy even after you came. “fuuuckk—yes,” he groans as his rhythm falters, “that was so fuckin’ hot. y’re gonna make me fill this greedy cunt up soon.”

the dark-haired man wraps his arms around your trembling body. he holds you tight to his chest before he starts pounding up into your dripping cunt. your juices splatters everywhere with each thrust, coating his dick and lap with it.

“fuckfuckfuck,” toji groans and bites down onto your shoulder, fangs digging into the skin but not hard enough to break it. his balls sway and smack against your ass with quick plops, tightening as his orgasm washes over him.

“oh shit, gonna cum so fuckin’ deep. get it all up in ya till you feel it in y’r belly—”

the outlaw follows you over the edge a moment later. his control shatters as your pussy milks him relentlessly. with a guttural grunt that vibrates through your body, he slams up one final time and buries himself to the hilt.

you feel him swell impossibly thicker inside you and then the warmth floods in—hot, thick ropes of cum painting your insides in white-ish color. his cock pulses in heavy spurts, each one making you gasp as it fills you deep within, the sensation dragging out your own orgasm in endless aftershocks.

“mmmh, don’t waste a drop, doll,” toji rasps and his veiny hands pull you down flush against him, holding your ass flush against his upper thighs as he empties himself, “ya feel that? tha’s me ruinin’ this lil’ pristine cunt for good.”

his words are punctuated by shallow thrusts to grind his cum deeper. his massive body cages yours to keep you plugged up, his release overflowing and trickling down your thighs in sticky trails.

you relax against his chest. you’re boneless and spent, your tears soaking into his shirt as the last waves of pleasure ebb. the hat has already slipped askew, but toji reaches up with a gentle hand to adjust it.

the outlaw’s thumb wipes away a stray tear as he looks down at your blissed out expression. “real pretty,” he mumbles gruffly, tone laced with satisfaction.

toji’s chest rises and falls slow beneath your cheek. he hasn’t pulled out yet. he never does right away. he likes keeping you stuffed full of him, likes the way your little body keeps fluttering around his spent cock like it’s still begging for more even when you’re too wrecked to speak.

his big hand slides up your spine in a slow drag, calloused palm catching on the damp cotton of your chemise where it’s bunched around your waist. when he reaches your nape he cups it, thumb stroking the fine hairs there, gentle in a way nobody in town would ever believe toji zenin capable of.

“easy, sugar,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough but soft, “jus’ breathe for me.”

you do as told, face still pressed to the crook of his neck. you can taste the salt of your own tears and the faint gunpowder that always clings to his skin. he smells like sin and safety all at once and it makes your spent body tremble.

he shifts, just enough to ease the strain on your thighs and then reaches blindly for the canteen he left propped against a hay bale earlier. the metal is cool when he presses it to your glossy lips.

“drink.”

you try to lift your head, but the stetson is still perched crooked on your hair and it flops forward which makes you huff a watery laugh. toji’s scarred mouth twitches. he tips the brim back with one finger and holds the canteen steady with his other hand while you swallow.

cool water spills over your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb before licking the droplet off in a way that has you watching his tongue intently.

when you’ve had enough he caps it and sets it aside. toji wraps both arms around you again. one hand splays wide between your shoulder blades and the other cups your bottom, keeping you snug in his lap so nothing leaks out. not yet.

he’s greedy like that.

your thighs are trembling, muscles jumping from the strain of riding him so hard. of course he notices and he starts kneading them slow, working the ache out with the patient strength. every press of his fingers draws a soft, broken sound from your throat.

“poor lil’ thing,” he rumbles against your temple, “rode me like your life depended on it, didn’t ya?”

“oh, shut up,” you let out a small noise and bury your face between his pecs, hiding your embarrassment from him.

toji grins smugly and pats your ass twice for good measure, “don’t worry, i won’t tell the townsfolk about how good their sweet lil’ girl is at ridin’ something else than hors—”

“tojiiii—stop it!”

fast-forward to tonight—your dorm, fairy lights dripping cotton-candy pink across posters of britney and bratz. the air smells like vanilla body spray and sweet, sweet pussy. choso’s on his back, naked except for the baby pink fluffy handcuffs you snapped around his wrists, hooked onto your headboard. his cock stands angry red, veins pulsing, slick with three rounds of your spit. you straddle him reverse, ass cheeks spread so he watches his own dick vanish into your soaked cunt. every downward slam slaps skin on skin, wetter, louder.

“tell me what you are,” you pant, grinding your clit against his base. your pussy clamps, slick dripping down his balls and pooling under his ass.

“your—ngh—loser,” he whines, hips jerking uselessly. “your stupid fuckin toy, please—”

you slam down hard enough his breath punches out. “louder.”

“i’m your pathetic loser!” he yells, voice splintering. you lean back, palms on his knees, and roll your hips in tight cruel circles. his cock drags along your front wall, nudging that spot that makes your eyes cross. you clench on purpose and he sobs, cock jerking wildly inside you.

“already?” you mock, lifting off until just the tip kisses your entrance. a fat bead of precum pearls and drips onto his own stomach. “you gonna cum before i do? typical.”

“no—no, i can hold it—” he babbles, abs clenching so hard the veins pop. you drop again, swallowing him to the root and ride like you’re trying to snap him in half. the bedframe rattles. your tits bounce under your baby phat tee, the sweat making the fabric cling. choso’s eyes roll white every time your ass claps against his thighs.

you count his orgasms like beats in a measure. one—when you rake your nails down his chest and twist his nipples until they bruise. two—when you spit in his open mouth and he swallows like it’s communion wine. three—when you reach back, playing with his balls while your pussy clenches around him. by four he’s babbling nonsense, cock swollen and angry, every nerve raw.

you climb off, not letting him soften. not even a little. his dick slaps wetly against his belly, leaving a snail trail of your cream.

“up,” you order, unlocking the cuffs. he scrambles, clumsy, and you shove him into plow pose, yoga for sluts—knees by his ears, ass in the air, cock aimed at his own face like a loaded gun. his balls draw tight, shiny with your juices.

“open that pretty mouth for me, cho.”you taunt sweetly. he whimpers, the first spurt arcs perfect—salty, bitter, splattering chin to forehead. second shot lands square on his tongue. you milk him dry, thumb rubbing the sensitive crown until he’s shrieking, oversensitive, tears carving guyliner rivers down his temples.

“swallow, loser. taste what my pussy did to you.” he gulps, throat clicking, eyes glassy with worship.

you release his legs and let them ball back onto the bed. you straddle his face, knees pinning his shoulders, pussy hovering an inch above his swollen lips. your mixed cum drips in slow strands onto his tongue.

“be a good boy for me and clean up your mess, hm?” you grip the headboard as he dives in desperately—long, messy licks from taint to clit, slurping his own load out of you like it’s holy fucking water. nose buried in your cunt, he moans into your honeyed folds, tongue fucking your hole until your thighs quake. you moan, gripping your tits as you grind down, smothering him, riding his face until your second orgasm rips through—gushing over his cheeks, chin, that pretty pierced eyebrow.

you roll off, chest heaving, and flick the cuffs open. choso stays there, cock twitching against his stomach, face glazed shiny.

“did i say you could move?” you purr, voice syrupy cruel.

he shakes his head, hair plastered to his forehead. “n-no. sorry, ma'am.”

you trace a nail through the cum on his cheek, push it between his lips. he sucks greedily.

“next time, you cum when i tell you to, kay? think you can manage that, baby?”

his broken whisper floats up, raw and ruined. “ye-yes, anything for you.”

you flick his forehead, hopping off your bed. “clean yourself up, loser. you’ve got rehearsal in twenty.”

choso blinks through sex haze, propping himself up on his elbows. “ye-yeah. um…same time tomorrow?”

you smirk, tossing his discarded hoodie at his cum-streaked face. “only if you beg prettier.”

KAMOSWRLD 2025 ©

masterlist pending!

Not in front of him. Not behind him. Not even anywhere around him. It was - quite fittingly - emanating from above him, as if the heavens themselves had split open, and the first sign of the pearly gates was the voice of an angel.

You. 

Gojo instantly darts his gaze to where the wiry, bespectacled cashier was staring to avoid eye contact with whom he likely thought to be a madman. A rather cheap device, with rather cheap graphics. A box with the most beautiful voice.

The first spark of elation today.

It sung to him, almost like a siren.

“I-it’s the leading contestant—eek!” The cashier says, and cowers in fear once Gojo’s azure gaze snaps to him in a split-second. Unwavering. Intense.

As the young man trembles, Gojo reads the name tag on his uniform: Ijichi. Huh? That name almost sounded familiar, was it perhaps a long lost friend? Some obscure family member? He looks at the man again, maybe not. Or perhaps…

“We go to the same school.” Ijichi sighs, when it becomes obvious that Gojo was furrowing his pale brows at the name tag. “I’m two years below you, but we had extended maths together. I sat next to you?” Again, that knit between the other’s eyebrows only grows deeper. “Also you plastered one of Yaga’s pictures on my backpack today.” He adjusts his glasses, “And my face.”

Recognition floods Gojo’s face, and he snaps his fingers. “Ahhh, I remember you now- yeah, sorry about that.”

“I-it’s alright! It was an accident.” Ijichi pauses. “I think.”

“Heh…” Pointedly, the white-haired of the two doesn’t answer that question. Instead, he’s turning his eyes back to the television above Ijichi, ravenous not to miss a single second.

The cashier follows, more easy-going now without any additional customers or managers there to keep him moving. He could afford to ask, “Ah- her. Do you watch idol competition shows often? I didn’t expect that of you, Gojo-senpai.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean-” Ijichi waves his hands fervently in front of him in explanation, “It’s just- those shows really do target a certain demographic and- I just didn’t quite expect it with your…oh, but it has been g-getting popular these days so I don’t know what I’m saying-”

“I don’t.” Gojo admits, cutting through the other’s blubbering. He crosses his arms in front of him and aims to look as dignified as possible as he admires the lil’ dance you were doing as you sang. “It’s just…”

And he almost felt stupid asking this- hell, he almost felt fucking shy (which is impossible, Gojo Satoru is never shy). But he does so anyways—

Holding his head high. Index pointing straight at the blurry screen. Pixels which would not hide your beauty.

“Who’s that?”

“Th-that?” Ijichi turns his head back towards the television, and his face breaks out into a dopey smile - Gojo doesn’t even know why it irritated him so much. After all, that was exactly how he felt, too.

So why the hell was another smiling at you like this-

That’s when Ijichi says your name.

And any and all annoyances with the other man simply melts. Simply turns the insides of his chest all warm and gooey. Simply leaves him a little weak in the knees (and he was damn glad that his lower half was obscured by the counter).

Gojo repeats your name, like he was tasting it.

“Stage name: Cupid.” Ijichi continues, watching you dance about the screen now, as well. “She’s been a fan favorite since her audition, even though producers did do a bit of dirty editing to try and make her unpopular- fans saw right through it. And now she’s been in the lead for weeks.”

“Talented.” Gojo grits out - one word. Perhaps the only word that wouldn’t make him positively shatter that nonchalant façade of his and embarrass himself in front of fucking Ijichi of all people.

He nods at the vocal break you were continuing on-screen, your gentle lashes fluttering shut as you put your all into a song that seemed to be of your own make. You nail the note. He trembles. “Though I’ve…seen better.” Lies.

“She has come a long way.” Ijichi hums, eyes closing as he savors the music. It was the last few chords, perfectly in harmony. “She’s the fan-favorite to win the contract from executives, expected to debut sometime next year.”

“Ah- another idol then.” His throat remains parched with his own lies, growing dryer by the seconds of your voice. Your dance. Your presence. “Talented, though…” You finish off your final belt, and Gojo can only repeat, stupidly. Nonchalant, nonchalant. C’mon Satoru, you can do this. 

Gojo shuffles, “So uh- what’s the show name?”

“Idol Academy.” The black-haired man answers, “New episodes air every week at 9PM.”

Scratching behind his back—nonchalant. “Ah, I’ll let my sister know-” You fool! You don’t even have a sister! And only too late does Gojo realize that Ijichi seems to realize this as well, “I mean- uh, Shoko…who is like a sister to me. I’ll let her know- and maybe I’ll check it out, too- if I have the time. Probably won’t though.” Nonchalant! Nailed it!

Ijichi nods, and he looks away from your finished performance. “Well, if you want to vote for her for the upcoming finals then her number is #143.”

“Ah, we’ll see…probably…won-”  Except, for idols, a finished performance isn’t really a finished performance at all. Nonchalant! Nonchalant!

Because then there’s the ending fairy—you with your bright smile directed at the camera, your arms moving behind you as if you were drawing back a bow and arrow. Pop! The arrow embeds…deep into his heart. “I’m going to marry her.”

Gojo pauses after his confession.

Ijichi pauses after his confession.

It seems the world pauses after his confession.

Everyone but you (which made sense you were practically out of this world), who nodded along to the comments that the judges were giving you. As you walk off the screen, Gojo practically leans over the counter to watch your every step- and even your steps past the television frame-

Ijichi reaches up to turn off the television.

So nonchalant.

“Gojo-senpai…” He starts, and this time it’s Gojo that cowers at the way his schoolmate was looking at him.

Before he knows it, there’s the smack! of something being plastered on his face. Flat and glossy. Colors bursting even behind his scrunched-up eyelids.

A…poster.

“Her official poster.” There’s more than just a little amusement in Ijichi’s tone as he watches Gojo rip the paper off of his face and stare down lovingly at your own, right in the middle of it. Smiling a smile that seems to be just for him (nevermind the fact that this had once been Ijichi’s poster). “9PM on Channel 8, #143. Don’t let her down.”

Gojo would vote for you like his life depended on it.

That night, he went home and created a second Twitter account for himself.

@thestrongestfanboy: Voting for Cupid #143 on Idol Academy and u should too or else (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

@Fushidaddy replying to @thestrongestfanboy: already voted, youre late to the club lmao.

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy: Blocked.

Liked by @CupidOfficial.

.

.

.

@MnetIdolAcademy: ANNOUNCING THE OFFICIAL DEBUT LINE, CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR RISING GLOBAL STARS!

[GLOBAL VOTE FINAL RESULTS]

RANK #1—Cupid

(Read more)

.

.

.

And he did.

From his phone, his laptop, his mother’s phone, his father’s phone- Geto’s phone, Shoko’s phone (where he found a copy of the last test paper’s marking scheme—he knew that little con-woman cheated, he feared for her future patients). Until, ultimately, you did win the competition. 

Just as he’d wanted you to.

And Ijichi as well, he supposes. But he is younger (at least, visibly) and more beautiful - therefore Gojo thinks it should count more.

And so you swept every award in the reality competition, and snagged center spot in every headline, concert, and fan account that was ready to feature the freshly-minted popstar.

Almost two years later, by the time that your official debut had come ‘round with a hit single and an album that was climbing the charts, he’d just entered his first year in university. And by then, practically everyone in his life knew by now that he was a sort of…stan. Gojo accepted the title begrudgingly, after Geto and Shoko had walked into his newly-acquired dorm room one day and found every inch of his walls covered in your posters. There was a life-sized cardboard cut-out of you underneath his bed, too, but thankfully they hadn’t found that yet.

Geto threatened to strangle him until he took down the posters of you on his side of the room, at least. They were sharing, after all.

The room was appreciated on stan Twitter, at least. His latest post about it racked up a solid 992.1k views.

@thestrongestfanboy: New room pic!! Can u guess my ultimate bias, bet u can’t^^  \(★ω★)/

Attached was a picture that he’d forgone every single rule and regulation about internet safety to post: from the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, to the cardboard cut-out of you, to the plushie of your cupid character, to the American flag with your face on it (why always the American flag for these things, he wasn’t sure), to the rare photocards that he was holding up for the camera. It was a shrine.

The replies…not so much.

@pinkillit: Lemme guess…Cupid? Lol so real, I luv her too!

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @pinkillit: Well I love her more than u so…(￢_￢;)

@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Damn

@gggggnarly: WOAH??

@hearts2hurts: I can’t even send hate, this is impressive ngl.

@utahimeslefttoe: need to do this with my bias

@lovelicky: Parasocialism, who?

@yuuthebaddie: You scare the huzz

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I don’t need the huzz when I have my queen #thearrowhitme  (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

@Fushidaddy7 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: kinda wish I could hit you rn too #fakefan

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy7: ??? Blocked.

@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ?? 

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Don’t u think it’s kinda problematic to be pushing 40 and arguing with minors online?

@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: youre 19 tf are you talking about?? and also because you claim the arrow hit you, but you don’t even have her rare “First Love, First Kiss” photocard. youre no better than a local lol.

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: U seriously think ur a bigger fan than me? I was there since even before our girl debuted. Lmao.

@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i was there before she even entered the show- and yes. i am.

That particular scathing reply wasn’t over with just that, and Gojo had realized - clicking on the notification, to his slowly-growing horror - that it would be accompanied by a picture, as well. A snapshot to a room that looked much like his own.

From the posters of you dating all the way back to your pre-debut days, a selfie with you at a rookie fanmeet before (dammit) you’d entered the competition, the cardboard cut-outs, the plushies, the flags, the rare photocards. And yes…the ultra-rare ‘First Love, First Kiss’ photocard that he’d last heard went for a comfortable few hundred dollars on the market.

With you costumed like a sweet, sweet cupid. 

Sparkling eyes. Angel wings. Holding up the second button from the top of a school uniform - a symbol of confession in Japan - as if you were confessing to someone. 

To him.

Gojo’s giggling stupidly and kicking his feet on the bed as he zooms in on the picture, taking in your picture on the photocard- before his phone buzzes with yet another Twitter notification and his heart plummets as he realizes just whose room this is. Fushidaddy8 himself could be seen reflected on the lone mirror in the room: scarred lips smirking, his beefy arms raised in a flex, biceps the size of Gojo’s head—

@pinkillit: He kinda ate you up ngl.

Ignoring that, he responded to the aforementioned perpetrator. 

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: Well I’m going to marry her!! Hope that helps!! ╮(︶▽︶)╭

@Fushidaddy8 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: delulu really isn’t the trululu kid

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy8: That trend’s dead, unc.

Though he did slide into the other man’s direct messages right after that, in the hopes of buying out the exclusive photocard from him.

He was laughed all the way out of his direct messages.

Gojo Satoru did several things next.

He blocked (and reported) @Fushidaddy8.

He subscribed for a gym membership.

He dragged Geto out of their shared dorm room (sleep-deprived and grumbling at the 3:41AM on the clock, bound to miss the important physics exam that day…semantics, heh) as moral support on his trek to the post office. Where, when his best friend shivered at the cold early morning and questioned just what and to whom were they mailing, Gojo had answered-

“Oh, just my second button.” The very same one that he’d kept safely since their graduation from high school a few months ago - because, see, Gojo Satoru wasn’t the type to fall in love.

He wasn’t the type to confess.

Though, he did get confessed to more times that he could count (he was perhaps the second most popular bachelor on campus, right after Geto - but even that was a highly-debated ranking of first and second). He just never found the one.

That is…

Gojo beams, plastering on a few stamps on the cardboard box- much too big for but a single button. In it, he poured his feelings—corny, yes. But true. “I’m going to send it to my girl, Cupid-”

Geto punches him before he can finish.

@thestrongestfanboy: The lion does not concern himself with the pain that comes with #truelove, even if he cried a little ☆⌒(> _ <)

@Fushidaddy9 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmao loser.

Just a few months later, another one of your limited edition photocards was released: the “Said Yes!!” photocard that sold out instantly. Just the cutest photo of you receiving a second button in confession, your expression one of pleasant surprise.

No one believed Gojo when they told them that the button was his.

He bought five.

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@BuzzFeed: Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who’s The Biggest Fanboy of Them All? Cupid’s Fandom Compare Notes on Fanboy Shrines and 35 Other Delulu Stan Happenings This Week.

(Read more on buzzfeed.com)

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Gojo Satoru had bought 67 albums. 

67…heh.

Sixty-seven different copies of the very same album—yours.

Sixty-seven different copies of the latest addition in your platinum-reaching, Grammy award-winning discography: the ‘Obsession’ album.

Of course, they’re all yours. Because who else would have such banger songs that he wouldn’t mind replaying over and over again until Geto threatened to smash the damn things? Who else would have exclusive photocards so cute stuffed into the crevices of said albums, that he just had to collect them all? Who else would host a fancall event that he simply had to put a dent in his sizable bank account to win?

It was somewhat of a lottery system, and Gojo’s sure he’d funded his local record store for a few months at least with how much he’d cashed out there.

He’d been up bright n’ early on the day your album hit the stores - camping outside with a few avid others of your fandom (though, proudly, he’d been the first one there). Rushing with the rest to buy up your album, your merch, and with it…a chance to see you.

Every album bought was an entry into the raffle that’d grant them a chance to see you.

Just a few minutes of your time through the screen, and even that was like looking through the pearly gates of heaven in Gojo’s eyes. He’d dreamt about it, he’d manifested it, he’d tweeted about it so many times on his private account that everyone but Haibara had blocked him on.

@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I’M 22 NOW SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT   (ಥ﹏ಥ)

@thestrongestfanboyPRIV: LORD KNOWS IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME.

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

@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboyPRIV: I believe in you Gojo-senpai ^.^

@Fushidaddy27 replying to @HiByeRawr: dont

@thestrongestfanboyPRIV replying to @Fushidaddy27: How did u even get here??

And so, the wait had dragged on with a few more accounts blocked. 

Until, finally, one day Gojo had been simply scrolling through his emails as he usually did. A few updates from Canvas on his assignment grades. A few A+’s. An email from Geto with nothing but one of those old pictures from Yaga’s abstract dance classes attached. A few more A+’s. An email from the record store saying he won the fancall event. Yet another picture of Yaga-

His heart had damn near stopped.

Actually- Gojo doesn’t think he was even breathing as he hurriedly scrolled back and clicked open the email from the record store. He reads the very first word—

“Congratulations…”

And that’s all he needs to stand up and cheer-

“Shhhh—!” The cryptid-like elderly librarian, Gakuganji, shushes him from just a few tables away. A glare so intense that it makes Gojo sit back down in his seat in an instant, ducking back down to stare at his phone screen.

Heart thundering. Fingers trembling. “Oh my god…” He whispers to himself, knees bouncing underneath the mahogany table as he’s clicking on the link embedded into the email.

It takes him to the official site of your management, where the list of winners had been announced on one page dedicated especially to you. And there - right at the very top - his name. 

Gojo Satoru.

Censored, yes. But he could read it well enough - it was only confirmation of what he already knew through the email. 

And as Gojo tries to tame his giddy elation inside the library, he forgoes those revision papers of his to instead tap away at his phone. First, he texts his parents. Then he texts his friends. Then he emails Nanamin (also one of his friends, but the man had him blocked everywhere else…)- and just as he caught sight of that winner’s email again, Gojo squeals—

“Out of my library!”

Later, Gojo Satoru was added to the campus library Wall of Shame (and Nuisances).

But he didn’t care.

Not one single bit.

@thestrongestfanboy: About to meet my future wife- how do I look?  (￣▽￣*)ゞ

Attached was a selfie of him making your signature bow-and-arrow pose a few days later.

He was well-fitted in his best dress shirt that hugged his toned waist. Cologne practically palpable through the screen. Soft white bangs tamed. Donning a silver chain. False glasses on because he heard in one of your latest interviews that you liked nerds.

Cheeks rosy.

“Bro, isn’t the call for like two minutes?” Geto grumbles from his bed on the other side of the room. Their cramped dorm was already small enough without the other pacing every inch of it in nervousness. 

Gojo whips around with a snarl, “No, for your information it’s actually two and a half minutes.”

Geto squints, “Right…” Before he raises his nose into the air and sniffs—“And god- what is that awful fucking smell?”

“You don’t like it?” His best friend asks innocently, “It’s my cologne.”

“There’s no way your cologne smells like that?” The dark-haired man gapes, leaning back in his bed as he covers his nostrils with a palm.

Geto already has his answer by the way that Gojo starts to squirm. “Well…I may have also added in a bit of your cologne, too…”

“…”

“And Nanamin’s.”

“…”

“And Shoko’s-”

“What the fuck, Satoru?” Geto slaps a hand over his forehead, in the way he much seemed to do when it came to an antic that Gojo did without his consultation (he means, c’mon, if they were to be dumb fucks then they should be dumb fucks together). 

But this was too far even for him.

And Geto only sighs before he’s reaching for his heavy headphones, placing the cushioned device on top of his head. “After this, we’re taking you out to touch grass, man.” He opens his phone to something and blocks out Gojo’s whining protests with it. “I’m serious.”

“And I’m serious when I say you better not fuck this up for me, Suguru.” Gojo stabs an accusing finger at his best friend, while his other hand reaches for his own phone - the scheduled time for your video call was nearing. “Keep yourself scarce when she calls me.”

“Mhm, whatever you say.”

“Because she’s my future wife-”

“Crazy story, bro.”

With Geto not even close to responsive any longer, Gojo huffs as he looks through his notifications-

@Fushidaddy31: YOURE SO CHOPPED LMFAOOOOOOOO

Nevermind.

Instead, he waits in front of his desk. Phone propped up. Earbuds plugged in. Back straight against his chair. More formal and elegant than he had in any of his other meetings or lectures before.

He turns off his notifications and opens up the app that management had directed him to through emails. Pressing on the screen record button, Gojo’s stomach turns as a staff member performs an ID check before the call.

And then it starts.

Your beautiful, beautiful face pops up on the screen.

Those eyes. That smile. The voice that says, “Hello?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Gojo’s heart drops to his stomach then takes a high-speed elevator right back up to his throat, he can feel the ba-dump! of it there. And later - years and years later - he’ll be able to cringe at the way that his naturally deep voice broke- “H-he-”

Before your face pauses.

It freezes.

And suddenly the call ends.

wait…Gojo taps on his Wi-Fi…he taps on his data…he taps on anything and everything that might make a difference. And yet, nothing ever does. Gojo immediately throws down his earphones on his desk and stands- so fast that his chair topples over—“Suguru!”

The dark-haired man jolts in his bed, turning over at the shriek with his brows scrunched in confusion. Seeing the state his best friend was in, he raises his phone as a shield. “What?”

“Don’t what me- don’t- you- you—” So enraged that he couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. Face red. Veins popping on his neck. The only way that Geto manages to even slightly discern what the other man may be talking about is by the way he points at his phone, the shared Wi-Fi router, then his phone. 

Geto’s mouth drops, “Ah…” And he catches sight of the orange, blinking right on the router that told the both of them that the day’s data has been finished. He looks at his phone…with the absolutely massive update that had just completed. “In my defense, Love and Deepspace had an update-”

“Suguru, I’m going to kill you.”

Ultimately, no amount of begging or crying to attempting to throttle Geto could reverse the fact that Gojo had won a fancall…and missed it.

All because of his Wi-Fi.

“There there, man.” Geto pats his friend - draped across his bed with his face in his hands - on the back. “At least the new event loaded- it’s an idol event, and I’ll let you play it with Sylus-”

Gojo only sobs louder.

“And then after that, we’ll actually go touch grass. How about that?”

@thestrongestfanboy: Nothing beats a Jet2 holiday to HELL. @DigiGeto ur going to HELL.

@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Mb

@Fushidaddy32: rare aesthetic: fancall with #her n made her do the coldplay kiss cam trend with me heh

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy32: Blocked.

@Fushidaddy32 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: ??

@CupidOfficial: So glad to be able to talk with my lovely fans during the fancall event today!! Thank you to everyone that attended, and even those that didn’t attend heheh…I see you, and I love you <33

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@Variety: This week’s cover story:

Global Superstar Cupid: On Stardom, Surprises of Fame, and the Undying Support of her Fans (“There was actually this funny story with a fan that froze—”)

(see page 9…)

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Gojo Satoru was on cloud nine.

Gojo Satoru was in heaven.

Gojo Satoru was going to meet his wife.

Everywhere he looked, he could see that beautiful face of yours. 

From the floor-to-ceiling posters against the stark white walls, to the stalls upon stalls of merchandise that featured you, to the rows upon rows of people wearing t-shirts with your face on it. Posters. Plushies. Bow-and-arrow lights. Everything that his heart could ever yearn for.

And that included you.

And no- Gojo hadn’t died and gone to heaven (evidenced by the way that no matter how many times he pinched himself, it still bruised). Don’t be silly! He was simply at a place that was rather similar, he imagines.

A fanmeet.

Where the excitement was palpable, and everyone here had arrived with the same goal in mind - to spend just a few precious moments with you in person.

In person!

Geto was the one that’d snagged him the ticket to this event, to make up for the rather tragic incident with the fan call two years ago. And so here he was, at your first-ever fanmeet in Tokyo. Gojo vibrated on the balls of his feet, and with his towering height he could make out just a few more meters until he managed to see you up-close.

He held one of his most prized possessions - your first poster from Idol Academy, the one that Ijichi had gifted him so many years ago - to his chest and sighed. In less than an hour, he’d have it signed. In less than an hour, he’d get to hold your hand.

In less than an hour, he’d get to see you.

There was a part of him that felt like it was tugging towards you already- and Gojo has to bounce himself slightly to find a way to channel the adrenaline.

It’d been quite the arduous journey to get to here, and he didn’t want to make a single mistake now - all the albums he’d bought, all the pictures from your latest fanmeets that he’d fawned over, all the stan Twitter fights. 

Honestly, just today he’d gotten into it with some delusional loser online (@urmomstype) that’d been spreading rumors about you being…particularly close with the famed actor you had in your newest music video. Gojo shudders as he thinks back to it:

@urmomstype: A thread of all the PROOFS that #Cupid is dating the hottest k-drama actor right now—

Inside was some amalgamated mess of pictures of ‘shared couples items’ (half the population owned that shit, c’mon, that actor was far from special) and coded messages that apparently littered your social media. By the end of it, the user had been self-assured, a few other misogynistic antis were spouting hate, and Gojo was furious.

He’d typed away so fast that his thumbs were nothing but a blur.

@thestrongestfanboy: U call this proof?? Holy fucking airball lmao (￣ヘ￣)

@thestrongestfanboy: Bozo

@thestrongestfanboy: Ratio + L + my fav is better than ur fav

@thestrongestfanboy: She isn’t dating anyone BOZO!! Even if she was (which she isn’t) it’s none of ur business and ur a loser so go back to doing loser things. I bet ur an anti from that one other agency…凸(`△´＃)

@Fushidaddy89 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: yk for once i agree with you

@urmomstype replying to @Fushidaddy89: Why are two uncs replying to me…arguing with a minor btw.

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @urmomstype: With this gift I summon-

It had lasted a few hours (and that was on the shorter end of the stick). Until, ultimately, Geto and Shoko had pulled his phone away from his face (he was defending your honor!) and reminded him that there were much more important things on the horizon.

Namely, you…

Besides, he was glad to get away from the epic highs and lows of high school football stan Twitter. He was glad not to have to fight with what was likely some middle-aged, parasocial man there over you. He was glad not to get into futile shipping wars that-

“Do you think her actor boyfriend will be here?” 

An agitating, grating voice breaks through his thoughts (really, it was the squeaky voice of a child), and Gojo’s immediately whipping his head down, down, down behind him.

It was a buzzcut boy, wearing a t-shirt with your face and a pair of soft feathery wings that was sold as one of your exclusive merchandise—and yet…those angelic appendages still wasn’t enough to hide the mischief in his face.

Gojo stares at him.

And he stares at Gojo.

“You.”

“You.”

As his blonde-haired guardian looks on in slight shock, Gojo stabs an index his way- “User urmomstype?”

“User thestrongestfanboy.” He then points at himself, “But you can call me Todo Aoi.” And before the older man can begin to sputter again, he raises a small palm to silence him (and why was Gojo being silenced by what looked like an eight-year-old?) “I already know who you are, Gojo Satoru. You’re infamous inside the fandom, y’know?”

He gapes, “I am?”

“Mhm.”

Before he starts twirling the curls of white at the base of his neck, Todo stares in bewilderment as the taller man starts squirming. “So like…d’you think that means there’s a chance she’d notice me, too?”

“…”

“…”

“F-forget that-”

“You really think you can pull fine shyt?” Todo squints up at Gojo, and then down at the sheer amount of merchandise he was draped in. “You’re chopped with a negative aura that no amount of aura farming could possibly replenish, brother. Your eyes are built like a 24k labubu. If you were a meal, even Fanum wouldn’t ask for tax. Even I’d win a mid-off against you. I hate to break it to you but she’s much better off with that actor-”

“Don’t think that just because you’re speaking in brainrot terms I don’t understand you- I’m brainrotted, too.” Seething, “And they’re not even dating-”

“Maybe, maybe not.” 

“Definitely not!”

The little boy nods, sagely. “Still got the views for the music video, didn’t I? And what did you do? Whine about how you weren’t married to her yet?”

And to that he doesn’t have much to say, “Well…”

The blonde-haired woman that’d been holding Todo back finally announces her presence, “Hi there- apologies. My name’s Yuki.” She reached out her hand, and they shook - with Gojo dazed by the absolute demolishment of his character. “I’ve warned him about his ah- ragebaiting issue…it’s a work-in-progress.”

“I-I see…” Gojo breathes, looking back at the line - just a little longer and he’d be out of here. Just a little longer and he’d get to see you—“One question, I’m not actually chopped, am I?”

As Todo whispers the definition to Yuki, she shakes her head happily. “Oh, not at all! You’re not exactly my type, but trust that you’re quite the handsome character.”

“Handsome enough to pull my wife?” At her visible confusion, he jerks his head where your figure was seated at a black-clothed table, signing posters and making conversation with your line of fans. Oh- how perfect you were.

“O-oh! Her?” A line of sweat beads at her temple, “Well, why not?”

Gojo - quite maturely - sticks his tongue out at Todo.

But the boy only replies, “You look like you wear wigs.”

Gojo self-consciously runs a hand through his soft white hair, “I-I don’t!” He did take particularly good care of his hair.

“Do you wear wigs?”

“No, I do not-”

“Have you worn wigs?”

“No, I have not-”

“Will you wear wigs?”

“…Maybe?!”

“When will you wear wigs-”

“Please!”

“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to step out.” A gruff, masculine voice speaks out from beside him- and it didn’t match Todo’s probing voice. Not at all. Gojo turns his surprised head around and finds himself face-to-face with a stony-faced man. 

As tall as him. Even beefier. With shades that reflected his own widened blue eyes.

His jaw drops, “Wh-what…”

The security guard gestures to Todo, and then towards the door with the ‘Exit’ sign. “For your disruption, we’re going to have to ask you to step out of the premises.” He cracks his knuckles, “Or you shall be escorted out.”

“No-” Gojo’s gasping, looking around for an answer. “No no no no- disruption? What disruption?”

“Arguments with a child-”

“That lil’ shit deserved it—” Gojo whines out, before realizing that that likely didn’t help his case. “I-I mean-” He’s gesturing to the boy that was clearly not disrupted in any sense of the word, “-look at him! He’s completely fine! In fact, I’m the one emotionally scarred.”

The other two also start to protest this course of action, and the security guard stays silent for a beat, and lets the counterargument sink in…

Before he raises his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “We’re having some resistance here, I request back-up at the front of the line.”

“No no no-” He was just a meter away - a meter. “No, wait- please no.” And by now, the other fans were starting to point and stare at him now. At the way he was panicking. At the way he was trying to inch himself closer to the signing event. At the way he was so close to you- and yet, so far, with two burly security guards that clapped their hands down on his shoulders and dragged him away by his arms.

All the way to the exit.

As you stared.

“NOOOOOOO—!”

@thestrongestfanboy: I’m gonna be honest, kitten, daddy’s about to kill himself   ٩(× ×)۶

@Fushidaddy103 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i saw the video youre trending on tiktok lmaooooo

@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: F in the chat

@pinkillit replying to @urmomstype: F

@hearts2hurts replying to @urmomstype: F

@utahimeslefttoe replying to @urmomstype: F

@lovelicky replying to @urmomstype: F

@CupidOfficial: Tokyo, oh Tokyo~

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TRENDING ON TIKTOK:

#Cupidfanmeet

#thatonecrazyguy

#thestrongestfanboy

#Cupiddatingrumors

#Cupidbemywife

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This was it.

This was Gojo’s last chance.

He hadn’t won a fancall since that one time (no matter how many albums he bought, the universe just wasn’t on his side), he’d been barred from your Tokyo fanmeet, he’d been known as that one delusional fanboy in your fandom.

Which was honestly fine. Gojo was fine.

He was completely and utterly fine-

“OHMYGODSUGURUI’MSOCLOSEITHINKICANSEEHERICANSEEHER-” Gojo yelled in Geto’s ear, over the roaring crowd that was most likely saying the same thing he was. He shook the man, and then proceeded to shake his other best friend standing right beside him. “YOUGUYSARETHEBESTANDILOVEYOUANDYOU’LLBETHEBESTMANANDBESTWOMANAND-”

“Not if I kill you right now.” Shoko mutters, punching Gojo right in the stomach so he’d shut up for the first time in the past few hours. She takes a puff of her cigarette, even though the stadium had a strict no smoking policy.

She needed it.

She deserved it.

Though, she supposed that there was no one to blame but herself. 

It was obvious the toll that all the failed fancalls and fanmeets had taken on Gojo. And while she couldn’t quite understand the sheer ahem- delusion that came with it, she knew that this was something important to him. And Geto did, too.

Which was why, with the power of social media, the duo had reached out to that ‘urmomstype’ boy and his blonde-haired guardian. Apparently, even after Gojo had been escorted his merry way outside, the two had tried to overturn the decision, explaining that it’d all just been some silly banter and there really wasn’t anything to remove him over. ‘He might be chopped and unc, but he’s still a goat. Sorta.’ The boy had said, whatever that means…

But, alas, the security guard had been stubborn.

And so, the four - Shoko, Geto, Yuki, and Todo (yes, even Todo) - had wanted to make it up to Gojo in a different way. Despite not being able to attend the fanmeet, you still had your upcoming concert in the famous Tokyo Dome.

They’d stayed up all night on the phone trying out every connection they had to somehow get a few extra tickets.

All night.

There had to be something, right?

Until - finally, finally - Yuki managed to get in contact with Gakuganji (yes, their ol’ campus librarian), who managed to get in contact with Yaga (yes, their ol’ high school principal), who managed to get in contact with one of his other friends that knew someone on your staff team. And through a rollercoaster of contacts, they somehow managed to snag a few seats.

Front row.

Gojo had burst into tears the moment he read that pink slip of paper with your name in bold, surrounded by hearts. He’d crushed them all to him, so tight that Shoko wondered whether her bones might break, and whispered. “You guys are definitely invited to my wedding.”

And if her heart melted just a little bit then, well…she didn’t mention it.

Now, however, she’d no sooner be invited to Gojo Satoru’s funeral than his alleged wedding. To their own fortune, Yuki and Todo had been assigned places a few seats down. A weary Geto on the other side of their white-haired friend reaches his hands out towards her. “Cigarette, please.”

Shoko raises a brown brow, “You don’t even smoke?”

“I’m about to start.”

“You guuuuys—” Gojo drags on, as the opening notes of your album start to ring out on the speakers. He shoots his hands out to grab Shoko- and when she ducks, he shoots his hands out to grab Geto- and when he groans, Gojo only sways them in the air. “It’s about to start- she’s about to come on stage- oh my god, oh my god my wife’s about to come on stage-”

“She’ll be your ex-wife if you don’t calm the fuck down.” Geto can’t help but laugh. Shoko looks on in confusion as he moves in synchronization with Gojo to the first few dance moves of your routine. Geto answers her unspoken question, “What? He played it all the time in our dorm, I could recite every lyric and move in my sleep by now.”

“M-me too.” And as your silhouette starts to become projected on the screen behind you, Gojo’s starting to tear up. Large, bulbous tears of emotion.

They were both dancing in unison now. 

Crying (Gojo, at least).

Shoko shakes her head with a chuckle of her own. “Idiots.”

And then you saunter your way onto stage and Shoko (as well as everyone in a five-mile radius) feels their eardrums stop working.

@thestrongestfanboy: I wasn’t just another screaming boy…I challenged her stare down…she saw me. She pointed—twice. And if u think I’m done? Let’s see if the wolf can find his prey again…good luck…(^人<)〜☆

Attached was a video taken from the concert - more girlish screaming (Gojo’s) than music, to be quite honest.

@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy114: I don’t see u at the concert. L |ʘ‿ʘ)╯

@Fushidaddy114 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i dont see me trending on tiktok either

Gojo doesn’t even have the time to block and report Fushidaddy’s 114th account, because he’s too busy shoving his phone into his pocket and joining the screams for your encore that night. The one where you pretend to walk off, then dramatically sigh as you prance back down—

“Ah~” You’re voicing into the mic, looking at the sea of flash-lit faces around you. “Again? You lot are reeeeeally ravenous tonight, aren’t you?”

In unison, they roar. They agree.

With a faux huff, you’re placing your hand on your waist. It’s a pose infamous amongst your fandom, and they already knew what was coming up next- “Who’s got you so worked up, huh? Is it…me?” Roaring. Rumbling. Raging. You gasp, flattered. “It’s really me? Oh, now you’re just kidding—”

A furious shake of heads.

“You’re not? Well…” You smile, and it’s the type of smile that makes a flurry of star-stuck cameras go off. Basking in it, you walk oh-so-closely to the edge of the stage, where hands reach out to merely be in your presence. “That’s cute. But I still think I should arrest someone for being so naughty tonight, getting you all worked up.”

Crowds wave, volunteering themselves up to you.

You reach for your glittering belt and pull out the fluffy pink handcuffs that make them squeal, “And how aboooooout…”

Scanning the stadium.

Looking around.

Your eyes pass over the roaring head until—

“Ah! You there.” You’re pointing, your eye catching on a fluffy head of white hair. A face so handsome. So eager. “How about you? Would you like to be my arrestee tonight—?”

His deep voice sounds out, “Y-yes! Yes please-”

And as you near, the crowd grows even more restless. Like a tumultuous sea, the waves crash into each other, creating a rough tide that almost wanted to pull you in-

You blink.

And suddenly that white-haired man has disappeared.

But you’re by the edge of the stage by now, and you could feel the palms reaching for you as you try to discern just where he might be. “I uh-” You pause. Before the crowd surges forwards, and you’re thinking quickly to point out someone else. “Perhaps he isn’t so eager to be thrown in the slammer tonight-” They laugh, “-so how about you? Brown-haired girl? Would you like to be arrested by me~?”

She nods, and you proceed with your lil’ skit to ‘arrest’ her for being much too naughty.

Teasing and twirling, before you stand up and get on with the rest of your concert-

“And now—who’s ready for an encore~?”

You prance away, leaving a trail of glitter and song- and tears. Fuck, Gojo only claws himself up from the ground just as you finished your little arresting routine. The roll of the crowd had knocked him to the ground, and Shoko looks at her sad lil’ best friend.

She raises the handcuffs on her wrists, “Help me get out of these and you can have them, Satoru-”

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Gojo straightens himself up, and Shoko’s shocked to find that he shakes his head in rejection.

“Satoru, are you okay?” Geto asks, warily.

“Yeah-” He sighs. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Something hollow in his breath. Something hollow in his heart, as he watches you slip away.

One.

More.

Time.

It’s alright.

It’s alright.

@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play Chasing Pavements by Adele

@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: cringe

@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: but you good bro??

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy117: No bro 

@Fushidaddy117 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i feel you bro

@CupidOfficial: White hair. White stars…

That night, while Gojo had tossed and turned himself into a fitful sleep, his phone buzzed with yet another notification. 

One that he had to blink his eyes at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, one that he had to pinch himself at to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

DIRECT MESSAGES for @thestrongestfanboy.

@CupidOfficial: You’re the white-haired boy from tonight, aren’t you?

@CupidOfficial: Sorry if this is forward of me, I’ve just seen you around quite a bit…on my timeline, at the fanmeet…

@CupidOfficial: I just wanted to ask whether you’d want to model for the cover of my upcoming album?

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@pannchoa: Rumors swirl of Cupid’s upcoming album! Dispatch hints and industry whispers - read the full EXCLUSIVE from her producer right here.

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First thing’s first, you had Gojo Satoru sit on the couch of your penthouse accommodation. Talking through the details of your secretive upcoming album, and how the aesthetic you were going for fit his dazzling looks perfectly.

Second thing’s second, you had him seated on your king-sized bed. Still babbling about your album- at least, he was. Though the both of you knew that it was something else entirely on your minds.

Third thing’s third, he was sprawled out on said mattress. You straddlin’ his handsome face like a perch. His puffy, pinkish lips glued to your cunt—

“Mmpf- mmmm…” Gojo’s groaning over the most lecherous squelches that you’ve heard in your entire life. They’re echoing out like one of your sweetest songs, in sloppy staccato with the rovering movements of his tongue.

Gojo Satoru was eating you out like he was ravenous.

Famished.

Grabbing ahold of each side of your ass cheeks, he’s dragging you back down onto his gaping maw each n’ every time you flinched away with a whine, letting his tongue slash deeply into your drivelling orifice. “Mmm- hck!” Gojo’s so sloshed on your syrupy pussy that he’s finding himself hiccuping, eyes rolling all the way to the back of his head once your sap trickles out with a splash! Straight into the back of his throat, “Ohhhhh, my sweet girl-”

“Now now-” With a shiver, one of your hands slithers down to tug on Gojo’s clammy white locks. Almost as if to pull him away- but that only makes him nudge his lips closer to your hole with a keen. “Make sure you remember to- haaah, breathe, Gojo-”

“Sa-Satoru-” He whispers this out directly against your quivering cunt, and the vibrations make your back arch perfectly. Looking up at you through his pale lashes, fluttering. “Please call me, Satoru…”

Just the tip of his tongue that reels back out to fuck back in-

“-ma’am.”

“O-oh—” You’re moaning out at the way that his thick muscle pierces you - not only was Gojo an avid talker, but he had the tongue to back that up, too. So strong. So lengthy. He’s stirrin’ his tongue around and around in circular motions to graze those ridged tastebuds of his into each tiny nook n’ cranny. 

Pulling onto his sweaty bangs and that only seems to make him go even harder- “S’that what you want me to call you?” You’re managing out, looking down at him- and that seems to make him jolt at the sheer intensity. “You want me to call you…”

You teasingly trail off, and Gojo only seems to buck—his hips coming up to make your vast bed creek. Chin spankin’ against the edge of your cunt when he yearns even closer, “Yes? Yes?” 

“Oh? Was I supposed to- hck! finish something?” Pretending to not know exactly what he wanted, and it frankly made you even wetter to see the way that the tips of Gojo’s ears burn bright red at being caught.

“You know what I want baby- you know-” Sputtering out scorching hot breaths against your hole, before you know it- Gojo has one of his hands looped ‘round your thigh. The flat of his right thumb rubbin’ up and down your clit, “You kn-know what I want- and this pretty pussy does, too.”

Just the sultry sensation of him toying with your nub makes you gasp and buck. With your head thrown back, he’s taking every forceful bounce.

With such immense pleasure, Gojo’s letting his entire pretty face get ridden. The seeping hot core of your cunt plasters from the tip of his nose, down, down, down to grind your clit on the point of his chin. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Timing your gyrations just right, Gojo purses his lips and he spits- “She’s just so wet, my light.” Creating a slippery puddle that lets him slither his tongue into you even faster, “Soooo fucking wet. Sooo fuh-fucking loud, might even be louder than you on stage- and she’s honest, too.”

You’re raising a brow in challenge, raising his blushing head from between your legs to simply ask. “And just wh-what is ‘she’ honest about?”

There’s another dangling line of saliva spat on top of your pussylips, and the edge of Gojo’s thumb presses each wad inside. You shiver - and so does your core. “She knows she loves me—she knows she wants to call me ‘Satoru’, doesn’t she?”

Oh.

You simply shiver- you don’t even have an answer, and Gojo doesn’t expect you to have one. With sensual movements, the plush part of his lower lip drag-drag-draaaaags down the front of your cunt.

He’s pulling his tongue back, just lightly tapping it on top of your shaky orifice—“Hey…” You’re grumbling out, when his teasing motions are lingering for just too long. You tug on his hair, and that seems to make him groan in ecstacy - the happiness of being used. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

“Why? Does she miss me?” Gojo prattles away - not to you, but to your dripping wet cunt. Almost as if to prove his point, just the spit-covered edge of his tastebuds slither close to your hole. And it makes you clench—

Around nothing, because Gojo’s pulling away in an instant.

He never imagined how fun it would be to tease you.

His pretty, swollen lips turning up into a dirty grin. “Ohhh, don’t you worry, my light.” And the crown of his thumb rolls over your clit a few more times, “I already know that she misses the feeling of my tongue fucking ‘er-” And just as you wanted (because he could never leaving you longing for too long) Gojo’s tongue starts moving in, sinking. “Already know she wants to be f-filled up like no other could, already know every word to your songs- every lyric- every syllable. Already know you’re gonna feel my tongue between your legs- and you’re going to call me—”

You breathe, “Yes?”

And he’s almost pleading. “Your good boy?”

“Well…” You twist your fingers harshly into his silken white hair, and it makes Gojo moan. Slightly shoving him where you wanted him the most- “-then shut the fuck up n’ prove it to me, Satoru.”

And that’s all he wanted.

That’s all he needed. For now.

Until you’re calling him your ‘good boy’ exactly like that dark, carnal part of him wanted you to—Gojo’s grunting at the shock of his first name leaving your pretty lips, in that sing-song voice of yours. 

A sudden lurch that makes him shove his clammy head between your legs once more. He’s glued to the sheeny inner parts of your thighs, roughly gluing his mouth over your glazed pussylips.

“Oh- oh…” Heavy pants leave your mouth, and your chest heaves each time Gojo’s probin’ not only his prolonged tongue inside you- but also his slender fingers. “You’re really trying to prove it t’me-”

They were just so long. The curvaceous tips of his digits deliciously curving into your tenderest spots- he glides them perfectly along your walls. Fitting the ridges of his middle and ring fingers against your g-spot. 

Thoroughly. You could feel the way that Gojo was grinning against your cunt folds as he feels your cute walls clamp down ‘round his touch- “I found that spot, my light. It feels sooooo gooood having my fingers all up in there, hm? Can you feel me right there-”

“Y-yes-” Fuck, he was circlin’ the padded tips of his fingers and that made you fall upon the bed. You clap a hand down on that mahogany headboard of yours and use it to keep yourself moving- “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Then don’t you think I deserve it…” He’s pouting, plush mouth now pulling back to clamp down your clit, too. And not only was he suckin’ on that nub, he was biting down, too. “M’your number one fan.”

“Mhm—fuh-fuck.” Your head falls back when he’s pressing his lips together and draaaaagging the fleshy top of your clit backwards. Just stretching. Just itching this carnal itch.

When you’re distracted by the white-hot pleasure that bursts behind your lids at the feeling, Gojo’s easily managing to sneak in yet another finger. A third one that pummels your bruising g-spot just as hard. “Can recite your every lyric. Every fanchant.” The hot crevice of his mouth moves rapidly against your core.

Furiously.

He’s drawing out a saucy pattern with his tongue, one that you’re only later realizing are the strokes to spelling out your stage name. 

C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D-C-U-P-I-D.

Gojo’s hot tastebuds salivate right down your front, pressing on your clit until you see sparks behind your eyes. “See- see?” There’s an almost crazed look in Gojo’s peripherals, rolling until they were almost nothing but pure white as you clench down on him roughly - and you start to wonder just what you have released. “See, m’your biggest fan- hck! M’your good boy, and this pretty pussy knows it.” He almost sounds pathetic begging between your legs, drooling, drunken. “And- and that’s not all-”

“Satoru, what do you mean that’s not…” Your sentence slowly dissolves in your throat, and with every push of his slimy tongue, you’re realizing just what he’s talking about.

Because instead of the curving ‘C’ that meant he was spelling out your stage name, Gojo was slashing something out. Long, hard lines that edged you closer towards your bliss—

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

“Mmm, you really are my biggest fuh-fan.” You’re somehow managing out, and the only thing you can do right now is grab ahold of Gojo’s hair and let him lavish you with his mouth. “You really love me, Toru?” And you feel him jolt at that cute nickname- “Or do you love my pussy?”

“Both. Both.” Fingers spearheading you so fast at this point that the skin ‘round his mountainous knuckles turns red. Stinging red. Needy red. Just like the strawberry shade of his overworked lips- 

Plap! after plap! 

And you’re not sure if the sounds are from the way you’re riding his handsome face, or the impact of him banging his fingertips into your deepest insides. “Both both both- fuck, I wanna have you drippin’ down my tongue for forever, my light. Could have you squeezin’ around me like this for ages, mmm, m’fucking obsessed.”

“A reference to my- haaah, to my album?” You question, and you were just so close. You were just so rapidly nudging yourself closer on top of him like this- “But what if you can’t breathe, Toru?”

“I don’t need to-” To which Gojo only grips the side of your ass with his free hand, tugging you down. Jolting you atop him. Manhandling you down further. He scrapes his swabbing fingers even further down your walls, past the spot of your bundle of nerves. “I don’t need to at all. Hah- I don’t need to breathe if I can have you like th-this…”

Your mouth dries of a response, because just then, he’s changing up the pattern of his sizzlin’ tastebuds again. 

Long, luscious strokes.

M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.

Your eyes snap wide open, and you’re gasping at the realization of what exactly he was spelling out. “O-oh…” Chin slathering with a waterfall of your spittle, you’re just holding onto him for dear life at his vulgar kisses. “Satoru, I think m’gonna c-cum—”

And you’ve had voice training before, you’ve been used to keeping your voice steady even in the most pressurized of environments- but just then, your tone cracks as you heave your sultry body forwards and cum.

Hot, glistening waves of bliss.

A heat that takes over your body, from your scalp to your toes.

Again and again.

Slight tears prick behind your eyelids as you let Gojo fuck you through your high with his tongue, “Fuck- fuck, you made me cum-” Somehow pinpointing each peak of your orgasm to stick his fingers in for. Thud, thud, thud. “-and I didn’t even expect it.”

“Mmmm—” And you don’t know who was more gone on the fact that you were cumming like this, you or him. Because Gojo was lappin’ away with his thick tongue, slurping. “Tastes so sweet, my light. S’like sugar on my tongue…”

“Oh, you really are pussydrunk.” You whisper, and let his face move back and forth to elongate your euphoria. “Keep going, Toru—h-hah, keep going.”

“Anything for you, ma’am.”

How he loved the way you soaked yourself just a lil’ wetter at the sound of him saying that particular title. How he loved the way you’d flinch and tremble on top of him when he licked you from the tip of your clit and down to the end of your cunt. How he loved the way your high bated to nothing but mere tingles, and you shivered sensitively when he still kept going.

“My orgasm’s over now, Toru—” You hiccup, your tears starting to spill. “You were such a…good boy.”

And that’s when Gojo jolts, his entire body running with a shockwave that made itself obvious even to you. Curiously, you’re peering behind him- before he’s drawing your attention back to the front with a few more plunging pushes of his tongue. “Mmmm, m’your good boy. Your good boy- your good boy.”

G-O-O-D-B-O-Y.

“Mhm—” And when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to wrench himself away anytime soon, you’re bawling. “Fuck- fuck, Satoru m’so sensitive.”

“M’sorry, my light, I just can’t seem to-” Somehow managing to pant through his thorough pushes, it was honestly a wonder that he could even find the time to breathe at this point- with the way he was glued to your puckered pussy. Mouthing out what felt like the most popular lyrics to your songs at this point- “-can’t even seem to stop. It’s like I’m…almost like I’m-”

You flinch when he spits once more, the wad oozing down your slit.

“-addicted.”

You take a goood, long look at Gojo: puffy eyes, bleary vision, his mouth all puffy and raw around your cunt. Nearly every inch of his face was covered in a sappy layer of your slick, and it dripped down to drench your pillow beneath. Like a puddle. 

Your cup your hand down from his hair n’ to his cheek, and Gojo practically melts at the touch. You had the distinct thought that if he were a cat, he’d be purring. “But Toru-” Jutting your bottom lip out for emphasis, “I want to give you the same, you know what I mean? S’that alright.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you could step on me and I’d thank you.” He says, before wrenching off of your swollen pussylips with a wettened plop!

A loud, dramatic mwah!

It makes your heart race, and something in Gojo’s tightened trousers twitch. Eagerly, you’re shuffling yourself off of him and sitting on one end of the bed.

Earlier, Gojo had simply ripped off your skirt and panties off- and his flooded mouth drops further with every item of clothing you’re taking off. Until you were completely exposed, and you’re directing him with a finger to do the very same.

“Yes, ma’am-” There’s absolutely no hesitation before his t-shirt (with, tastefully, your face on it as part of your merchandise) comes off. And you’re absolutely shocked- because Gojo wasn’t the trim, lanky figure that you’d expected him to be.

Instead, he was built.

Well-chiselled pecs that made you ache to touch them, leading down with a deep valley to the muscles of his washboard abs. Almost like a ladder. They were decorated only with a few beauty spots, and a line of sparse white hair that led down, down, down.

Gojo’s beefy biceps flex as he then tugs down on the hemline of his pants and boxers, revealing—oh.

He flushes at the intensity of your stare, “Wh-what?” Almost squirming, he just felt so shy by the way his idol was looking at him like you just wanted to tear him apart. Sensually. “Is something not-”

“You’re just so big, Satoru.” You gasp, your eyes never straying from him. 

Naturally, your hand reaches out to grab the ninth of his loooong inches, thick and hot in your hold. Glistening with need. His tight balls clenching. He was so hard that every pulsation was visible even from here.

A few veins decorated his shaft, and he was so reddened at the tip, n’ dripped down a stream of milky precum just at the feeling of your palm on him.

Slowly - ever-so-slowly - you start to lower your head…

“Oh.” Gojo pants out a scalding breath. “And that is…good?”

“It’s perfect.”

Gojo’s watching you through partly-cracked eyelids, feeling so hypnotized by the sight of you below him. He raises himself slightly on his haunches with a hiss, the hot air from your mouth kissin’ his tip—it almost- it almost reminded him of the way you’d lean in so close with your microphone.

Lips so soft.

Tongue so talented.

Just gently pressing—

And that’s when Gojo chokes back a needy cry and cums- straight down the front of your pretty, pretty face. In a split-second, you have your tongue filthily dangling out to catch the wads of seed that he was pouring out. 

Splat after splat that ended up emptying on your tastebuds.

He’s bucking to let his shaft glissade just further down your tongue- and the mere plush feeling of him only makes his geysering divot spill out more generously. 

“Fuck-” Gojo scrunches his azure eyes, head fighting not to throw back and miss a second of the sinful sight below. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I can’t believe I’m…this is all your fault, sweetheart, ngh.” And his abs flex as he starts up a lil’ half-rut to fuck himself through his wave of bliss. 

“Mmm—” You’re savoring the salted caramel taste of him, something so sweet about him. Amused, you raise a brow. “I barely even put my mouth on you, and you’re cumming already?”

He’s raising his hands to his blushing face, peeking out through his fingers. “Actually…it’s the second time tonight m’cumming, my light.” As you raise your brows in slight surprise, and flick your eyes to the drenched mess of his boxers. “The haaaah—the first time was when you- you called me your ‘good boy’.”

“Oh.”

Cumming just from eating you out? Now that really made your cunt throb with torturous need, and you’re sliding a hand between your legs to feel for the wetness there.

“Well, then-” A beautiful grin graces your face, and it’s enough to make Gojo’s swollen cock twitch. “-guess you have one more to make up t’me if you’re such a, mm, good boy, huh?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

Before you know it, you’re being splayed out with your back against the bed. The mattress slightly dips as Gojo hovers his muscular weight above you, and he’s gently pushin’ apart your legs, sweat beading on his forehead as he takes in your dripping wet core.

You swear you catch his mouth watering at the sight- “No need to be nervous, Toru. Have you ever done this before?”

He shakes his head, “No, it- it was actually my first time eating you out, too.” Peering up at you with teary eyes, “Did I do good?”

Did he do good?

If that was his first time, you didn’t know what would happen with his second, his third, his tenth. And you’re snapping yourself forcefully out of that little reverie, “Yes- fuck, yes you did so good. Was such a good boy for me.” He grunts, something ruined in it. “Now I need you to be a good boy f’me again, okay? C’mon- put my legs on your shoulder—yeeeees, just like that.”

His muscles shifted underneath your heels, he was just so hulking.

“Now bend, Toru-”

“Bend?”

“Bend.”

And Gojo wanted to prove himself to you, just like before. He wanted to do his very best for you, you, you and only you - even if that meant…manhandling his one and only idol, just a little.

With a primal lurch, Gojo then has your knees pushed all the way up to your tits. “Like this?” Your body bent completely in half, like a lawn chair. “Like this?” And his hips slotting between your legs- in this mean mating press, Gojo’s furious cock stuffs juuuuuust inside- “Like- like-”

Before he’s slouching his head forwards and pushing—

“Fuck-” Gojo’s canines try to sink into his lower lip, before he’s realizing that that won’t hold back his gruff noises and he’s simply keening. Carnal. Baritone. 

A thin line of drool starts to splash from the side of his maw, before his entire body bows inwards to yours. Like he was focusing each n’ every ounce of strength into pryin’ aside your swollen folds and squeeeeezing his round, girthy tip inside. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” And then you clench and you can hear the exact moment that the sensation pangs through Gojo’s body, “I think m’gonna cum again- fuck, m’gonna cum again just from this.”

“If you do then I want it allll inside-” You say, looking up into his attractive face - so unintentionally sexy. Gojo was flushing. Rabidly slobbering. His dick aching.

He was so hard that you could feel the prominent outline of each vein, scraping your insides as Gojo tries to push past the slight resistance of your entrance and buck and buck- “Don’t- oh.” He could barely even echo out a coherent thought with your wet pussy wrapped ‘round him like this. “Don’t- fuckin’- talk like that- s’only gonna make it, ngh, worse.”

“But I thought you were my good boy?”

“Fuh-fuck.” Gojo hollows out, with a clouded breath that made it seem as though every ounce of sanity was leaving his body along with it. And at that very second, you feel him spurt out just a single pearly white bead of cum.

It splats! down at the back of your pussy, and makes you shiver at the feeling. Meanwhile, Gojo’s forced to lurch up one of his fists and gnaw down on it to control himself. “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing t’me.” The blood vessels at his neck and temples pop as he somehow stops his dribbling cock from flooding your insides any further. “Didn’t know how fuck- fucking mean ya are, my light.”

“What can I say?” You hum, your hamstrings all sore with the intrusion that was being lodged in your lower half. “You were the criminal that got away- ngh, at my concert.”

“Mhm—?” Still rutting. Just animalistic half-ruts.

“And I want you to fuck me filthily, Toru.”

Oh…at this confession of yours, he grows even bigger inside of your tight channel. The girth of Gojo’s cock swells up, and his sheer length pushes apart your walls, molding them to him-

“Oh- oh my…” There was still a light sheen of your slick on Gojo’s face that he hadn’t been able to greedily lap away, and it’s then - mid-sentence - that you choose to lean yourself closer to him and get a taste. 

To which Gojo’s hazed blue eyes snap open- and oh, the look in them makes your legs tighten. Makes them fail- he’s snapping them open in a singular fluid motion, uncaring of the way it exhausts your muscles. Uncaring of the snug stretch-stretch-streeeeetch of your cunt once he’s mazing himself inside. “-my light.” Gojo bites out, “I’ll give you anything you need…”

Just then, your ears ring with a sharp clap!

You’re wondering whether it’s your ears.

You’re wondering whether it’s your heartbeat.

You’re left wondering no longer when you register it’s the slamming impact of Gojo’s toned v-line snapping against your lower half. Bottoming out in one motion, he’s deeply probin’ his rotund tip into the back of your treacly pussy.

Bottoming out? Already? 

“And that includes fucking you like the slut you want to be fucked as.”

Oh.

Oh. 

It seems that perhaps you’ve broken him.

Because then Gojo’s pounding his rough, ravenous hips into you all the way until his white happy trail scrapes your clit, and the end of his shaft reaches for the back of your throat. 

“What the fuck…” He stops as he feels the tender end of your pussy - teary eyes widening. And the first thing out of his mouth is, “Is this real?” In utter, feral disbelief. “There’s no way this is…” Before Gojo’s pinching himself.

He bottoms out a few more times, and each time the look in his eyes grows more distant. Jaw dropping further and further with the pure ecstacy of having his painfully-hard erection surrounded by your soft warmth. “Are you- hck! are you holding up, Toru?”

“Holding up? Holding up?” He almost cackles- octaves higher, almost crazed. He turns to you, “Pinch me.” 

“What-”

“Pinch me.”

And so you do - right on the strawberry nubs of his nipples, where he was just so sensitive. Only when the painfully lewd sensation confirms it’s real does he start formulating his sloppy cadence, “Fuck! It doesn’t fucking feel r-real. It can feel like this, sweetheart?” He was rutting his hips impatiently into you like he was trying to fuck the answer out of you. Each n’ every loooong, winding vein glissading down your walls. “N-ngh, she feels like heaven ‘round my cock.”

“Oh yeah—?” Purposefully, you clench. “Like that, Satoru?”

He simply shivers, “Y-yes.” You can feel him thumpin’ away at the goopy back of your pussy, with his circular divot creaming out in pre. “She’s sucking up every inch of me- fuck, huggin’ me so tight. Bet she can feel my veins reeeeeal good, can’t she?” A few slurps as he sloppy fucks his way in, which he takes as an answer. “Mhm, she can.”

And you only clench harder-

“Oh.” He whimpers, “Have mercy.”

“I dunno…” You drag out from the back of your throat, and you have to curl your toes to stop the pleasure from overflowing and interrupting your sentences. “You didn’t have mercy when you ate me out earlier, did you?”

Gojo gasps-

“And when you screamed at my concert, and when you disrupted my fanmeet.” You’re quite enjoying watching him fall apart - head hung, hips stuttering as he struggles to hold himself back. You wonder just what might happen if you made this handsome virgin Gojo…break. “So why should I show you- ngh, mercy?”

“Please- oh, what are you—”

Whatever Gojo was going to say is immediately derailed by the casual way you’re hiking up a hand to your stomach. Pressing dooooown just as his throbbing length was sinking in, “Filthier, Toru.”

And that’s when something in your favorite fanboy - in Gojo Satoru - snaps.

That’s when your positions shift.

His sap dribbles down n’ overflows just like the way your steaming tastebuds do, and your teeth clench after every one of his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Just like you’d said, he was thwacking his aching hot cock into you so hard that the curve of his ballsack was swatting your cunt. Slowly, you’re growing more and more hypnotized by his roverin’ dick stuffing every ounce inside you full. “Just like that- hah-” Arms wobbling, you struggle to reach ‘round Gojo’s shoulders. “Oh- just like that-”

“Just like that?” He asks, oh-so-kindly. And you almost feel a glimmer of hope for your poor body when Gojo gently tugs your arms around his shoulders. Letting you grab onto his deltoids-

“But I don’t think s’filthy enough, my light.”

Oh…so you were mistaken.

“Filthier, you said?” He repeats your words from earlier, fully channeling his energy to swabbin’ every point of your cunt. Gojo feels your legs slipping, and he’s reaching a hand behind his neck to pin your ankles together - locking them in place. “Look-” Other hand thumbing between your puffy pussylips, “Look, she wants it harder- faster, too. She’s practically flooding out and begging for it.”

“Oh my god-” Your pillow is drenched in a layer of your spittle by now, and your back arches. “Keep- keep going.”

“Keep going? But I wanna go even filthier, sweetheart.” That familiar pout of his makes an appearance, though there was something much more…sleazy about it this time.

Your nails dig into the plush mountains of his muscles, shifting underneath your touch each time he’s reeling his body back. Back, back, back. Gojo was putting his entire frame to work - not just his hips - each time he’s shovelling his cock into you. 

And the extra pressure makes the rounded crown of his shaft embed deep into your cervix, leaving a bruise there that acts as the perfect target for the next slam. And the next. And the next. “Please-” You’re gasping out, sobs bubbling in your throat. “Please please please- please, and how are you gonna be even filthier?”

“Like this.” Just to prove his point, his free hand tilts open your chin and spits straight in your mouth. And without wasting a second longer, Gojo spanks that very hand back down on your hips to keep you from running. “Aaaand—”

Instead, he’s using his strength to pliably jerk you back down. Hissing between your parted lips, “Like this.” He’s bubbling up even more saliva- this time, down your slippery slit. That hand of his on your hip reaches over, and with the forefront curve of his thumb, Gojo’s smearin’ the wad of saliva on top of your pussy. Pressing down on your clit- “Because m’just your pathetic fanboy, my light, listening to- ngh, every word you say. So when you say filthy, m’only gonna go filthier.”

You almost don’t want to dare to ask, “And h-how will you make this…even filthier?”

But you knew he wanted you to.

You knew he was just dying to fuck the words out of you.

Gojo’s plastering a sleazy smirk across his face, and it damn near looks downright blasphemous with the layer of syrup on his features. “I h-have an idea or two…”

He’s not telling you what the idea is, he’s showing it to you - with his fingers twisting on top of your clit to spell out some of the very words he’d spelled out with his tongue earlier.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

Furiously, your body thrashes at the mercy of his clutches. Gojo was holding you down ruthlessly, a mean expression taking over his face when he finds out that he can simply pin you down and make that glistening hole of yours take it.

M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O-M-R-S-G-O-J-O.

All those zaps of pleasure that you loved so much, that you were moaning so much at. You’re so cockdrunken by this point that spittle sloshes ‘round inside your mouth- and Gojo only leans over to lick off the drivels of it escaping your mouth.

<3

Just in time to crash his lips into your when you cum.

“C-cumming.” You’re gasping out, almost in disbelief at the sheer strength of the orgasm that was flooding your entire body. Bucking back into his thrusts, “So much- it’s- it’s so much, fuck.”

“Yes-” Gojo growls, slightly breathless at the fact that this was you—and you were cumming ‘round his cock, suctioning every tender ridge on his shaft, fully fucking yourself through the complete waves of your high.

Bliss upon euphoria.

If you thought that your orgasm was incredible earlier, then you weren’t ready for this one. It simply takes over every part of you, until it felt like your nerves were fried with the sensation.

He stops pinning you down any longer, letting you bounce your hips back into his to your heart’s content. “That’s right, use me.” Gojo’s fingers are but a blur on your clit, “Use me to ride your high- fuck, use me as much as sh-she wants. Let me feel every inch of you squeezin’ around me-”

“I can’t be the only one.” Despite the pangs of your bliss, you somehow manage to blink away your tears to gaze up at him. With a hand fisted in Gojo’s perspired hair, you’re pulling him in reeeeal close, “Want you to cum insi- oh, fuck.”

You don’t even have to finish your sentence.

You don’t even have to finish your thought.

Because the moment that Gojo realizes what you’re trying to say to him, the bawling divot at the end of his shaft pours out white-hot cum. Heard throwing back. Chiselled body bowing into yours. Voice straining with a call of your name. 

It’s just the creamiest texture, it polishes a layer of white on your cervix and along your walls until the syrup froths outside.

Gasping, Gojo brushes his thumb between your folds and plugs up your leaking hole. Overspilling. So many webbed layers were seeping out of you, and he was taking the time to push every ounce of it back inside- “Fuck.” He whispers, thickly. “Fucking hell.”

“S’all inside, Satoru.” You mewl, gliding your hand up and down your front. “I can feel it splashin’ around inside-”

“Don’t say that- don’t- fucking say that-” He just barely chokes out- before one of Gojo’s hands lets go of your ankles to actually squeeze that pretty neck of yours, so perfect in his grip. “Don’t say that or m’gonna…”

“Or what?”

“Or m’gonna cum again-”

“Can feel it alllllll up inside.” You continue, despite the lecherous tightening at your throat. And Gojo has to listen on in pure agony as that voice he loves so much continues on—“Honestly- at this rate, you might just get me- ngh, pregnant, Toru.”

And that does it- he’s splurging out his dewy wet wads all over again. It seeps a layer of white into your glossy insides, making every thrust of his slippery.

With a slight whimper, he doesn’t waste time fucking those droplets of cum inside even if it aches him with sensitivity. The reddened tip of his cock twitches, and Gojo’s balls nuzzle the forefront of your cunt, already sucked dry with nothing more to give-

“You kn-know-” When Gojo speaks, it almost sounds like he’s crying- oh. Something hot and wet drips from his eyes, he actually was crying in overstimulation.

The texture of your cunt leaving him red n’ raw, but even then he’s way too addicted to try and bring himself to stop. Moaning, “-I did say something about you st-stepping on me, my light.”

Your brows raise.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

.

.

.

It’s almost a year later when Gojo posts:

@thestrongestfanboy: Siri play I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.

@Fushidaddy1008 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: lmfao as if anyone would bang you

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1008: Ahhh, my wife would bang me~! ＼(≧▽≦)／ Also blocked (*≧ω≦*)

@Fushidaddy1009 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: wife?? lmfao i thought Cupid was your wife?? youre saying you banged Cupid??

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @Fushidaddy1009: Exactly~! Blocked (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

@thestrongestfanboy: I would let her step on me (and HAVEEEEE) <(￣︶￣)>

@thestrongestfanboy: Does anyone have that meme of the guy shooting a basketball from the moon and actually making the basket???

@thestrongestfanboy: I’M IN LOVE.

@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro do you gen need your meds or…

@Shokomedical replying to @DigiGeto: I’ve prescribed all he needs, idk how but it’s gotten worse since that concert last year.

@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Happy for you Gojo-senpai ^.^

@thestrongestfanboy: MY BEAUTIFUL WIIIIIIFE~! ٩(♡ε♡)۶

And then came the disaster, perhaps. Because he’d meant to attach a completely innocent picture of you from your last show, he’d meant to post something that would have been inconspicuous with everything else that your fansites were posting.

But this is Gojo - and that’s obviously not what happened.

Attached to that aforementioned tweet was a picture of none other than Gojo Satou and you. Not from a concert. Not from afar. In the flesh, in nothing but a soft blanket covering your most intimate parts, clearly bitten all over and sex-hazed.

You were raising a digital camera up, your smile peaking through its edge as if you were taking a picture of a picture. And Gojo himself was in the corner - bitten, marked, a dopey smile and just as ruined, as sex-rumpled as you were, shirtless.

The first night.

How damning.

In the split-second that the photo had been up, it spread across stan Twitter like wildfire. And all of Gojo’s subsequent tweets had upwards of 1M+ views just because of it.

@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT

@thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DIVA DOWN DIVA DOWN

@thestrongestfanboy: I DIDN’T MEAN TO POST THAT PLEASE FORGET ABOUT IT.

@pinkillit replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Bro actually….did it? The fanboy actually did what every delulu stan hopes to do??

@gggggnarly replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU HOOKED UP WITH QUEEN CUPID?!

@hearts2hurts replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I fear I, again, can’t send hate because this is impressive ngl.

@utahimeslefttoe replying to @thestrongestfanboy: i know this is a marketing stunt i just cant prove it (uta give me a chance pls)

@lovelicky replying to @thestrongestfanboy: PARASOCIALISM WORKED??

@yuuthebaddie replying to @thestrongestfanboy: YOU GOT THE HUZZ??

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @yuuthebaddie: I GOT THE HUZZ!! („ಡωಡ„)

@thestrongestfanboy replying to @thestrongestfanboy: WAIT DELETE-

@DigiGeto replying to @thestrongestfanboy: Satoru what the fuck

@Shokomedical replying to @thestrongestfanboy: SATORU WHAT THE FUCK

@HiByeRawr replying to @thestrongestfanboy: I always knew the day would come!! Congratulations, Gojo-senpai ^.^

@urmomstype replying to @thestrongestfanboy: What did I miss?? Do I need to make a new thread??

@Fushidaddy2067 replying to @thestrongestfanboy: thats it siri play chasing pavements.

And that’s when it spreads outside of your fandom, first to the celebrity news outlets, and then everyone else. Soon enough, BuzzFeed, TMZ, Pannchoa were all tripping over themselves to be the first to report and interview on the subject. Personally, you knew that Dispatch was foaming at the mouth to drop the annual bombshell with all the sordid details.

TRENDING ON TWITTER:

#CUPIDPICTURE

#CUPIDDATING

#THESTRONGESTFANBOY

#DELULUISTHETRULULU

#HEGOTTHEHUZZ??

#LFORFUSHIDADDY

@CupidManagement: As a company, we do not interfere in the private lives of our artists and we kindly ask everyone to stop spreading any malicious rumors. We wish all the best to Cupid, and her relationship going forward.

And you?

@CupidOfficial: Ahhh might be as great a time as ever to announce that my new album, Stargirl, will be out on all platforms November 28th!! Here’s the cover art, hope you love it (and a special thank you to the special boy that made it happen) <33

On the cover, a picture of Gojo.

Not as you’d seen him in the bedroom, of course. It’d been exciting work to get to the studio, to don him in the most ethereal flowy whites, to place him in the midst of a blank background and stud his hair with roses, to bathe him in a dreamy light. It was almost hazy. In the picture, his face was turned away but he was staring into the camera- and…perhaps past it.

Right where you’d been, directing him.

With such a loving glimmering in his eyes that it made one almost shy to directly at it.

Your vision had some to life.

It quickly racks up a comfortable million plus views on Twitter, and you quietly shut off your phone as the notifications keep beeping. Instead, snuggling up to Gojo right back in your penthouse, right beside you (not before you give him a lecture on double-checking the pictures he posts, of course.)

And there was only one left wondering…

[email protected]: (RE: All of…this)

Hello,

What the fuck.

Regards.

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

“Woah! Feisty!” Shidou laughed, dodging your attack from where you were positioned in the corridor with the nearest safe place when he was not in your vision anymore as he settled on the couch instead. “I knew Sae had good taste, but damn—"  

“GET OUT!” you screamed, retreating as fast as your bare feet could take you. Slamming the bedroom door shut, turning the lock, breathing heavily as you wrapped your arms around your body. Without wasting another second, you grabbed your phone trembling, and called Sae.

The call barely rang twice before he finally decided to answer.  

“Why are you calling me? I’m almost home—”  

“What is your little pet doing here?!” you snapped, clutching the phone as if your life depended on it and right now it did. How can he just enter like he owns the place? Most importantly what was he even doing on a random Tuesday at nine o'clock in the morning, supposedly visiting Sae’s apartment... “What are you talking about?”  

“Shidou!” you hissed. “He just walked in! Into your apartment! While I’m practically naked!” You can practically hear Sae’s sigh through the phone and what you assume were the sound of cars’ engines—he was still somewhere outside. “Don’t panic. I’ll handle it.”  

“You better,” you snapped, trying your best not to panic when another man came uninvited when all you wanted was to be alone and wait for your best friend to be back so you could spend more time together. “Because if he tries anything, I’ll do more than throw a slipper at him.”  

On the other side of the door, Shidou’s voice rang out, teasing. “You know, I can hear you. Sae never said his place came with such entertainment!”  

You hung up, swearing under your breath. Quickly grabbed one of Sae's football shirts from his drawer—it was oversized, brushing against your thighs, the soft fabric smelling faintly of him. Pairing it with a pair of shorts you had brought along, you slung the towel over your arm and took a deep breath, preparing to be met with the intruder and whatever chaos he would create this time.

When you finally opened the door, your defenses were up, expecting some obnoxious comment or teasing smirk. Instead, you found Shidou lounging comfortably on the big couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table as he scrolled through what you assume is TikTok.

You rolled your eyes. Typical.

Choosing to ignore him, walking to the fridge, your stomach growling. Surely Sae had left something for you to eat. Except... the fridge was nearly empty. You sighed, shutting the door a little too hard. You’d trusted him to stock it, and maybe grab you something to eat since this was supposed to be your day together, but apparently, someone had other plans.

Settling for the chocolate bar you found on the counter, you opened it and perched on one of the barstools, hoping to enjoy it in peace. But even with your back to him, you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“Can you stop staring at me?” you said, not bothering to turn around and grabbing your phone to watch videos in hopes of ignoring his presence but Shidou’s voice came with that same teasing tone. “What can I say? You’re pretty. Makes me wonder how someone like you has Itoshi Sae’s attention.”

The sudden compliment caught you off guard, and your eyes widened slightly as heat crept into your cheeks. Quickly, you brushed it off. “None of your business,” you snapped, finishing the chocolate bar in a single bite.

Silence fell, broken only by the occasional sound from Shidou’s phone. You stared at the empty wrapper in your hand, wishing Sae would hurry up and get back. This day was supposed to be about you and him—just hanging out, doing whatever you wanted.

Before you could sink further into your thoughts, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the apartment. Both of you froze, eyes snapping to the door. For a moment, you and Shidou locked gazes, silently challenging each other.

Then you both bolted toward the door.

“Move!” Shidou shouted, but you were faster, shoving him out of the way with your shoulder as you reached for the doorknob. Yanking it open you grinned up at Sae. “Welcome home, Sae~” you chirped, standing in the doorway like you just didn’t push someone visibly physically stronger than you in the wall.

The prodigy's unimpressed gaze flicked between the two of you, and you could already tell he was annoyed. “I don’t even want to know,” putting two big plastic bags on the floor and crossing his arms as he took a good look at the both of you, mostly at you and how good you looked in his jersey. It wasn’t the first time you wore his clothes, he hoped it was not the last with you smiling so innocently, stepping aside to let him in. “Oh, nothing. Just your little pet causing trouble, as usual.”

Behind you, Shidou groaned dramatically from where he’d stumbled, rubbing his shoulder. “She fights dirty, Sae. You should’ve warned me.”

“Save it,” the midfielder cut him off, already rubbing his temples like he regretted ever leaving you two alone when he didn’t know himself what Shidou was doing here but he would let it slide this time, he was not that annoying.

After Sae’s exasperated interrogation and a grudging apology from Shidou for barging in, the three of you settled in for lunch. It wasn’t anything fancy, he had picked up takeout on his way back and got your favorite dish. He just knows you so well. Eventually, after hours of doing nothing—more like not trying to get into another competition with Shidou for Sae’s attention when you lost only once when they talked about their teammates in the U-20, you enjoyed the gossip nevertheless.

Actually, Shidou isn't that bad, he is just another lost soul who seeks someone to understand him, but he couldn't get that understanding from you, especially not today when he decided to be a pain in the ass interrupting your alone time with the boy you had hearteyes for and it’s getting late, the perfect time for the three of you to settle on the couch and relax. No more competitions, no more talking back when you somehow convinced them to watch The Lion King.

You’d started it last night with Sae, cuddled up together under a blanket as you gently played with his hair. He’d fallen asleep right around Hakuna Matata, his bangs brushing against your fingers as you toyed with them. Now, as the opening notes of the song played again, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. His maroon hair was back to its usual styled look, held in place with hairspray, but you could still feel the softness from the night before.  

You nudged Sae’s side, making a subtle hint for his attention. He raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anything when you leaned your head against his shoulder. Your hand found his, your fingers brushing against his palm until he intertwined them with yours. A small, satisfied smile crept across your face as he played with your fingers, as he always does when you want physical intimacy.  

From the other side of the couch, Shidou’s gaze didn’t miss a thing. “Aw, don’t leave me out,” he leaned forward, dramatically resting his head on Sae’s other shoulder.  

“Do not even think about it,” Sae deadpanned without even looking at him.  

You smirked from behind Sae, meeting a pair of pink eyes with that smug look on your beautiful face. He could read your lips clearly as you mouthed, I told you, he likes me more. Shidou rolled his eyes, leaning back into his spot on the couch. “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. “Hakuna Matata, I guess. A life with no worries.”  

As the movie progressed, you shifted positions. By the time Can You Feel the Love Tonight started playing, you were stretched across the couch, your legs stretching out to the armrest and your head resting comfortably in Sae’s lap. He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle as he focused on the screen. You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat when your eyes met. His teal gaze was soft, a rare expression that he reserved for only a select few, only for you. 

The scene on the screen mirrored the moment between you two: Simba and Nala finally being together after a long separation when the lioness gave him the look. You gave Sae the exact same look, and his fingers stilled in your hair for a second before resuming their slow, soothing rhythm. Shidou’s mouth opened wide in shock, raising his eyebrows and breaking the bubble you and Sae were in.  

“Are you two together or something?” he asked, leaning forward to look at the two of you.  

You didn’t hear him, too lost in Sae’s eyes and the soft touch, however he heard him loud and clear. Without breaking eye contact with you, he replied, “No.” Short, simple, and without any more explanation. But Shidou wasn’t stupid. He could see the complexity in that “no.” It wasn’t a denial—it was a warning sign. The kind of sign that said, This isn’t your business. It wasn’t the answer he expected. He tilted his head, studying the two of you. The way Sae looked at you, the way you seemed to melt under his touch—it was more complicated than simple.

Ah, so that’s how it was. You two were playing along with this whole best friend thing, but he knew now that he’d never truly have Sae’s attention outside the football field. It didn’t matter how close they got as teammates or how many stupid jokes he cracked; Sae’s focus was always on you no matter what.  

As Simba and Nala’s romantic moment faded into the third-wheeling antics of Timon and Pumbaa, Shidou sighed. He supposed he could relate, leaning back into the couch, his gaze shifting between you. He can see what's happening and you don't have a clue. Falling in love and here is the bottom line, the duo is now down to a singleplayer. The sweet caress of twilight, there's magic everywhere, and with all this romantic atmosphere ... Disaster's in the air.

You didn’t even acknowledge him, still too focused on your childhood crush. Shidou smirked faintly to himself. Yeah, he’d get used to it eventually. “Guess that makes me Timon,” he muttered under his breath. You glanced up at him briefly, a teasing grin pulling at your lips as he sighed, slumping deeper into the couch. Maybe, just like Timon and Pumbaa eventually came around to Nala, he’d get used to you too.

For now, though, Hakuna Matata.

The movie neared its end, the final battle between Simba and Scar playing out and you had fallen asleep at some point, your head still resting comfortably in Sae’s lap. His focus is split between the movie and the steady rise and fall of your breathing. You looked so peaceful like this, and he wasn’t about to move and disturb you.  

On the other side of the couch, Shidou was anything but peaceful. He stretched, groaning as the credits began to roll, signaling maybe he should roll out too. He had been patient all day, third-wheeling like a champ, but the sight of you nestled into Sae as if you belonged there was starting to rub him the wrong way.

Suddenly, he stood, making Sae look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Where are you going?” your best friend asked, his voice low to avoid waking you.  

“Far from the Pride Lands,” Shidou quipped, a smirk playing on his lips. He had gotten way too into the movie, and the line slipped out before he could think twice about it. He glanced at your sleeping form, tempted to throw in a teasing remark, but he held back. The last thing he wanted was to get on Sae’s nerves.  

Sae rolled his eyes, his attention drifting back to you. “Yeah, run away and never return.”  

The words were dry and pointed, but there was no harm behind them, just the usual sarcastic remark. Shidou would leave now, but this wasn’t the last time he’d invade Sae’s space. He didn’t mind the food or the movies, but the third-wheeling? That was too much to handle.

“Itoshi Sae,” he said carelessly, the lyrics coming to him easily after spending the entire day watching The Lion King trilogy, “I can’t wait to be king!”  

Sae let out a quiet, tired sigh, waving him off without so much as glancing his way. “Just go. And close the door behind you.” Shidou chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his stuff. He didn’t need Sae to escort him to the door—he knew the way out. As he reached the hallway, he paused for a moment, looking back at the two of you.  

Finally, just the two of you. Leaning back onto the couch, his hand still gently brushing through your hair. The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the end credits music and your steady breathing. He glanced down at you, allowing himself to smile for the first time today, and if you ever saw him like that you would end up being more annoying than the guest that was here seconds ago.

Shidou had just stepped outside the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him as he muttered something about the Pride Lands. But halfway down the hallway, he patted his pockets and realized his phone was missing. Groaning, he turned back, muttering to himself, “Can’t even leave without forgetting something.”

As he reached for the doorknob, he paused. Why was the door unlocked?

Pushing it open, he stepped inside—and immediately froze.

There you were, sitting on Sae’s lap, your hands cradling his face as your lips moved together in a kiss that could only be described as passionate. Sae’s hand rested firmly on your legs, holding you in place as if he had no intention of letting you go. The scene was so intimate, so unexpected, that Shidou just stood there, wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open in shock, a rather pleasant shock.

The door creaked behind him, and the sound made both of you stop. Your heads snapped toward him in unison, eyes wide like you’d been caught committing a crime.

Shidou blinked, then grinned, his signature playfulness kicking in. “Holy shi—For free?”

Your face burned red as you instinctively grabbed the nearest cushion and launched it at him. “SHIDOU!” you yelled, still clinging to Sae as if letting go would somehow make the situation worse.

He ducked the flying cushion, laughing as he darted toward the coffee table to grab his phone. “Relax! I’m just here for my phone!”

“Shidou, get out!” you shouted again, angrier and annoyed because this was the second time he caught you in an unexpected situation and as he backed toward the door, phone in hand, Shidou smirked. “You know, you should really lock the door. Or were you hoping I’d come back and catch you manipulating Sae like Nala tried to do with Simba? What a woman you are…”

Your grip on Sae tightened as you glared daggers at him. “Stop staring and GET OUT!”

“Alright, alright!” Shidou raised his hands in surrender, still grinning like he’d won some kind of prize. “Lock the door next time, damnit!” he added with a laugh, finally slipping out the door.

The moment the door closed, you and Sae sat in silence, your faces still flushed. A second later, he got up and went to the door, the sound of the lock clicking echoed through the room, ensuring no further interruptions.

Outside, Shidou shook his head, chuckling to himself as he walked away. “Hakuna Matata,” he muttered. “What a wonderful phrase.”

Inside the apartment, you laughed out of pure embarrassment, burying your face in Sae’s shoulder. “I can’t believe that just happened.” He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer there's a calm surrender to the rush of the day. It's enough for him just to be with you, because he would make you feel his love tonight.

“That we got this far,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His lips met yours kissing you again, slower this time, removing any tension as you kissed him back, “Now, relax.”