★

Bullying a 10 y.o smh

Having a tall boyfriend came with multiple perks, such as grabbing objects from high surfaces when you couldn’t reach them. Stealing his hoodies that always looked like a dress on you, and they were somehow always warmer.

One of your favorites is definitely when he can manhandle you without even trying, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. Sometimes he’d tell you to get on his back as he does push-ups. Let’s just say, you never felt so attracted to a man before.

Your boyfriend, Gojo, was well over six feet tall, and the size difference between you two was noticeable. It’s more noticeable when you’re tucked in front of him, his arms around your neck while your head is resting against his chest.

The main perk you absolutely loveeee the most is when you’re at a rave with him, and considering you’re too short to even see above the crowd, he always has you go onto his shoulders.

Even though you feel bad most of the time, he always insists you enjoy the show as much as he does. Since he was tall, he could see the stage perfectly.

So, right now, you both are at a rave. In the middle of the crowd, the bass shakes the ground beneath your feet while neon lights flash across the packed crowd. The air is hot, the music is deafening, and hundreds of people move in sync to the pounding beat. Every strobe of light turns the chaos into something almost unreal.

And as expected, you can't see shit; you're just faced with the backs of strangers' heads, and the only time you can even take a glance at the stage is when you jump high enough.

You wanted to enjoy the rave, and you really tried. You tried dancing along with the heavy beat of the music, but it wasn’t as enjoyable; people kept bumping into you. Some said sorry; some just ignored your presence.

Gojo was next to you the whole time, his arm around your shoulder. The other was holding a drink he had gotten from the bar, his messy white hair pushed up by the LED glasses he bought.

You were considering asking him if you could ride on his shoulders for a few songs, just to see the stage and avoid being bumped by people.

But you felt bad, so you kept pretending you were enjoying the rave. Although Gojo knows you better than you know yourself—saw that you actually weren’t.

“You okay?” He yells in your ear because if he didn’t, you wouldn’t have heard him. You look up at him, nodding. A sweet smile is placed on your lips.

“I’m okay, just a bit crowded, is all.”

Gojo slid his arm from around your shoulders, taking his attention off you just long enough to shove his half-finished, lukewarm drink into his friend’s hands. Before the poor guy could even protest, Gojo was already turning back toward you, a grin stretching across his face.

“Wanna hop on my shoulders?” The offer left his mouth so casually, as if he wasn’t asking you to climb onto a six-foot-something human ladder in the middle of a crowd.

“No, no, it’s okay.” You decline immediately, shaking your head. But your boyfriend was a stubborn man; he crouches down as if he didn’t hear your protest.

“C’mon sweetheart. Can’t have you feel crowded.” He teases, looking back at you over his shoulders. The same grin still in place.

“Seriously, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not; now hurry up before my back ends up hurting from being in this position for too long.” With that, you sigh, stepping behind him. You hesitate for a second before placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Don't drop me.” You squint your eyes. But you knew well, deep down, he wouldn’t drop you. Gojo has put you on his shoulders multiple times, but the anxiety of being dropped, especially in a crowd full of drunk people, was still creeping in.

“I would never.” Gojo gasps dramatically.

With a roll of your eyes, you climb up, carefully swinging your legs over each shoulder. Gojo's hands immediately found your legs, steadying you as he stood to his full height, without a grunt. The sudden movement makes you squeak, grabbing onto the top of his head for balance.

The view was completely different from where you were. For the first time all night, you could actually see the stage, the lights flashing across the crowd like waves of color. The cool night air brushed against your skin.

Gojo glances up at you from beneath a mess of white hair, his hands tightening slightly around your legs to make sure you were steady. “Better?” He asks, looking far too pleased with himself.

You nod, giggling as you take off the LED glasses that’s still on his head, putting the flashing object on. The anxiety from before was immediately washed away, replaced by the thrill of the music and excitement.

His grip on your thigh grew tighter as the bass climbed higher and higher. Meanwhile, you threw your hands into the air, a grin spreading across your face as you bounced to the rhythm, completely lost in the music and the electric atmosphere around you.

Gojo seemed more than happy to have you perched on his shoulders. He’d always loved the closeness of it—the way he could keep you near without needing an excuse. But more than that, he loved seeing how much you enjoyed it.

The moment he’d lifted you up, your eyes had lit up with excitement, and that reaction alone made it worth it. Every laugh that escaped you, every time you leaned forward to point at something in the crowd, only widened the grin on his face.

“Having fun, princess?” His voice rose as he looked up at you through his lashes. He began swaying and bopping with the music, not too fast to make you fall but enough to show he was having fun.

“Yes!” Your excitement shines through your voice as a blush slowly creeps up your neck. The sweet pet names he always calls you never fail to make your heart flutter. “Thank you, baby.”

“That’s okay, anything for you.” He pats your thigh, not long before turning to his friend—who seemed to be having the time of his life. His own hands were in the air as he jumped up and down. “Can I have my drink?”

His friend abruptly freezes mid-jump, breathing heavily from all the dancing. He glances at the can in his hand, then back at Gojo, a guilty look crossing his face.

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck. “shit, man. I kinda drank it.’”

“Bruh.” Now he has to go to the bar with you on his shoulders. Sigh.

═════════════════════

satoru gojo was in awe, eyes wide, mouth agape. it was, for once, not moving.

when shoko first introduced you to her two best friends, she had previously heeded them of your shy, nerdy personality, threatening them to be normal to you.

she was mostly worried about the white-haired boy.

gojo was a known flirt, womanizer, manwhore. he'd had his fair share of encounters with only the most gorgeous girls on campus. mostly sorority ones or mutual friends of shoko's.

geto was the same way, but did it quietly, pursuing girls much more mindfully.

she made it clear that you were different, though. you were off limits, that you were someone very special to her.

childhood friends, you and her. she kept in close contact with you since you moved away back in high school, and considered you a true friend.

ecstatic to hear you were transferring to her university, shoko didn't need geto and gojo, despite being her best friends, instinctual hoe-like tendencies scaring you off.

but gojo was speechless after seeing your beautiful face when you walked through the door of his dorm room.

it was different than anything he'd felt before. sure, he had small crushes in high school and in college he ran wild.

every weekend he'd flash his signature smirk, whisper a few slutty things in a girl's ear, and get his dick wet.

it was easy like that.

but he never felt like this before, completely captivated.

it wasn't just your physical beauty that struck him. it was the shy smile you wore on your face, the quiet greeting and head nod you offered him.

"hi," was all he could manage to get out.

from then on, you were all gojo could think about. whether it was in class, at practice, hanging with geto, at his damn frat parties.

his mind kept wandering to your pretty face, how much he wanted to talk to you. to tell you how he felt.

he found himself slowing down on the girls on the weekends. at parties, he felt distracted, often wishing you were there.

he would ask shoko if you'd ever come to a frat party of theirs with hopeful, pleading eyes. she would always dismiss it, reminding them that parties "weren't your speed".

it only made him want you more, imagining you in your cute pajamas doing something nerdy in bed on a friday night. reading, maybe.

it got to the point where he completely stopped hooking up with anyone, merely showing up to the parties to show support for his fraternity, or some bullshit.

the times he really got to see you were slim to none. you liked gojo and geto. when you first met them, you found them quite cute.

the guys at your old university were lousy compared to them, and it excited you.

at meals, sometimes gojo and geto would join you and shoko in the dining hall, taking a break from the food at their frat.

gojo practically jumped at any opportunity to eat with you, begging geto to ask shoko any time your schedules all aligned.

he would change around you, often letting his cocky, fuckboy attitude rest. he'd ask you about how you were adjusting, if you liked it so far.

you would nod your head with a soft smile, and his heart felt like it was bursting at the seams.

things changed, though, when he stumbled upon you at the college library. so typical of you, he thought.

your textbooks were sprawled on the rectangular desk, glasses on and hair tied up with a giant claw clip. your nose buried in your notebook, writing notes with your earphones in.

so cute.

he strode up to you, tapping your shoulder lightly. this was his opportunity, a chance to talk to you one on one without shoko staring daggers into him.

"hey, there," he would say, smiling.

you took out your earbud, eyebrows raised, lips parting delicately.

he took your warm greeting as an invitation to sit down at your table, asking you how your studying was going.

he was thanking his stupid literature professor for making him borrow the physical copy of the book for annotations, otherwise he wouldn't be caught dead there.

you shared what you were up to, how interesting your current unit in philosophy was and how hard you were studying for the next doozy of a calc test you had coming up.

it was the most you'd talked to him up till then, and to say he was happy was an understatement.

he figured that these academic interests of yours were what made you passionate, invigorated you to speak without hesitation.

loving your newfound openness, he continued asking you questions about what you'd been learning, how it compared to the way your professors taught at your old university, if you preferred this subject over that one.

any possible question that popped into his mind, he asked. just so he could continue to hear you talk.

your voice was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard before, and he wanted it to last forever.

it was what he, shamefully, palmed himself to the thought of every night. a hand would snake under his grey sweats, imagining your sweet voice whispering pleas from underneath him.

finally, realizing how long you'd been talking, you shyly tucked a hair behind your eye and adjusted your glasses, apologizing for rambling on and on.

he shook his head vigorously, insisting he was interested.

this routine continued.

he'd come to the library everyday around that time to come and see you, ask about your studies and day, even bringing cute drinks and snacks he saw you post on your instagram stories.

you found it all really nice. he was a great listener, just coming each day, pulling up a chair, and asking you really quality questions about your work.

movies, tv shows, animes, comic books he saw you repost about on your tiktok account he'd non-chalantly drop into conversation, and you'd light up immediately.

your eyes widened, and you launched into talking about your favorite characters, plot lines you hated, and cool things the directors or authors did intentionally he might have missed.

mentally, he'd fist bump himself for doing his research on you, along with all your favorite things.

he'd cut in at times, adding his two sense into a particular opinion you held on a character or story-line, and you'd smile brightly, surprised he was into the same media as you were.

it got to the point where his frat brothers were worried about him, wondering why on earth he had stopped his generational run he had with the sorority girls.

gojo seemed distracted, not really seeming fulfilled by all the partying and drinking.

even geto, his best friend, was confused as to why he had been acting this way.

he'd simply shrug, saying he didn't feel like it, jokingly saying that maybe he just grew up.

but it wasn't far off.

each visit he made to the library made your heart grow fonder of satoru gojo. you expected him, at a certain point, and without fail, he'd be there.

but you reminded yourself of the type of guy he was.

when weekend plans would get brought up, on the rare occasion you two talked about something like that, he'd mention a party of some sort.

you knew those parties happened each weekend, shoko practically came back drunk out of her mind from them, time and time again.

it just wasn't your scene. not that you thought that made you better than anyone, but it just wasn't.

even in high school, you were never very popular, keeping to yourself. shoko was one of your only friends in middle school, and it didn't get easier when you moved.

big events, like prom and formals, you often skipped out on because of the pressure you felt of having no date. it felt embarrassing to go without one, so you just didn't.

guys were another foreign area in your life.

you didn't have any guy friends, up until that point. in high school, you had your fair share of crushes.

none of which you talked to or had even the semblance of a chance with. it made you feel weird, never having even gotten to first base with anyone in your sophomore year of college.

gojo wasn't like you. he was a shining star, everyone loved him.

you weren't stupid. shoko told you, jokingly of course, that her two best friends were whores, popular amongst the female population.

you saw it in the way they got approached by beautiful girl "friends" in the dining halls or when they'd occasionally walk from class to class all together.

shoko would roll her eyes to the very back of her head.

the point was, you knew there wasn't a chance with him, no matter how friendly he came off to you each day. it was useless having a crush on him.

but you were stupid like that, biting off more than you could chew. that's how you got your feelings hurt, most times.

you were still smart enough to agree to go on a date with a guy you thought fit you will.

he was in your computer science class. he wasn't as handsome as gojo, nor did you have even half as good conversation with him, you thought.

but he was kind, quieter, did well in class.

he wasn't the type to party, and you overheard he'd never had a girlfriend before. it was a perfect match.

shoko urged you to say yes, happy that you'd finally get some.

she was so excited she decided to spill the beans to her two best friends at their pre-game before the friday night frat party.

when gojo heard you were going on a date with a guy seemingly perfect for you, his heart started racing, seething with jealousy.

shoko, of course, exaggerated him. that he was handsome, just your type, nerdy, incredibly intelligent, quiet, shy, low-key. all the things he wasn't.

that you were finally going to get your freak on, or however she described it, and that you and him probably were at that very moment.

he thickly swallowed, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous.

quickly making up some bullshit lie that he ate some expired yogurt that morning and he was feeling sick, he ushered them out of the room.

as soon as he saw them leave, he raced out the door, not able to think straight.

there was no way in hell he'd let some random let all his efforts go to waste. i mean, it'd been months of intense and miserable yearning for you, as much as he hated that word and found it corny.

it was truly how he was moving.

his legs carried him fast, sprinting to the girl's dormitory. he knew it well, not just from shoko, shamefully.

almost falling on his face from running so fast, he stopped at your door.

he was scared, for once in his life, about a girl. this should be easy, but his mind was racing.

finally mustering up the courage to knock, you opened the door with a very confused expression.

"gojo?", you asked, staring up at him with those adorable eyes.

"don't date him," he was out of breath, chest heaving dramatically. he felt like he had just run a marathon, the adrenaline of seeing you shooting him to a runner's high.

"please. i-", his voice cracked, almost whimpering, "i like you. no- i'm obsessed with you. and i can't stand the thought of you dating someone that's not me. so please-",

you cut him off with an abrupt kiss, lips awkwardly clashing against his, teeth colliding and mouths not quite as fluid as in the movies.

but he didn't care. his brain was short circuiting from the fact that you had just kissed him.

smiling like an idiot, he shut the door behind him, exhaling and crashing his mouth onto yours again.

this time, he was in complete control, starting off fast, then slowing down against your lips, gently kissing you while holding the side of your face tenderly.

he couldn't believe this was happening. he was kissing you, and you were kissing him back.

breathless, you pulled away from him, eyes slightly glassy and face extremely warm and red. you looked away, exhaling loudly like you'd just did some intense exercise.

gojo was looking at you with a soft expression, the side of his mouth turned up.

"i- uh," you'd start, fumbling with a piece of your hair. the two of you were sitting on the edge of your bed.

"that was my first time," you smiled softly.

it was your first kiss.

his eyes felt like they were going to pop out of the sockets, his heartbeat increasing by two times.

he had just taken your first kiss. it was his forever, he was your first.

that made him so happy he could kiss you. again.

wearing a stupidly large grin on his face, he replied, "it won't be the last," pulling you in for another quick kiss.

you smiled into it, not sure of where to put your hands and settling them on his shoulders awkwardly.

"gojo!", you laughed softly.

“satoru,” he whispered near your ear.

you shuddered at the sensation, correcting yourself "satoru. i... didn't know you felt that way. about me,"

"I came to the library. a place i'd never be caught dead in. every day. to see you," he paused between each sentence, "how?",

he sounded genuinely confused, "i don't know. i think i just thought we were too different. that... i guess you were out of my league,"

gojo let out a genuine laugh, shaking his head, "there's no way you actually believe that. you're miles out of my league,"

you let out a breathy laugh, "no, i'm serious. i quit all of it. i haven't... been with a girl since i first saw your face. all i wanted to do was to talk to you,"

your heart could probably burst at that moment, your face growing warm, "that's-",

he cut you off, taking your hand in his, "you're way too good for me. trust me. that's why i didn't- i couldn't tell you how i felt," he started, "but i want you to be mine. for real,"

you smiled that soft, gentle smile, the one he loves, "i want that too,"

"yeah?", he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles delicately, looking down at your hand, "i'll be good for you, i promise. i don't care about any of that other bullshit, i just wanna make you happy,"

"then let's be together then," you said, feeling shy at the confidence of your statement.

"that's all i've ever wanted, baby," he breathed out, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

"dish soap?!?" you gasped, horrified. you and satoru had started dating not too long ago, and this was your first time sleeping over. to your surprise, the secret behind his unfairly flawless skin was using dawn dish soap. your eyes darted between the bottle in his hand and his confused face. there was no way.

"yeah, it's pret-ty cheap and effective." he rubbed some more into his face. "see?" he wiped away the soap to reveal his porcelain skin. the scowl on your face only grew more as you practically seethed with jealousy. you didn't have an extensive ten-step skincare, but it wasn't as simple as dish detergent.

"not even moisturizer?" you raised an eyebrow at him. you wracked your head for possible subtitles for normal moisturizer that he might be using. body lotion? hm...too on the nose. vaseline? no...that would be obvious. knowing him, he'd probably apply way too much look like someone poured lube or baby oil all over his face.

he watched you silently, mouth slowly curving into a smirk. "you stress wayy too much. wasting money on all these fancy products when you can do it on a budget. quick in and out, trust. you're missing out." he leaned in and you shoved him playfully.

"just tell me what it is!"

"nuh uh." he chuckled, turning back to the sink.

you groaned softly. curiosity killed the cat, yes, but you had to know. you snuck behind him and opened the cabinet below him. ironically, it was filled with products, restocks of his toothpaste, body wash, the soap, shaving cream and more. you scanned them quickly before shooting him a confused look.

"i don't see it..."

he bent down and checked where you were looking. "huh? you're looking right at it." he rummaged around it, tongue stuck out like a cartoon character, before pulling out a bottle. the label was missing, but it didn't take a genius to know what it was.

"...shaving cream?"

"oh yeah," he replied, dead serious, "it works wonders. has a nice soothing effect too!"

honestly, you were speechless. this had to be, hands down, the most blonde you're boyfriend has ever been. and somehow, it worked in his favor.

"only $2.99. well, now it's like $3.50... recession indicator and what not." he waved his hand dismissively. "still super duper cheap. just lather some on, let it sit, then boom! perfect skin."

"wow." was all you could manage. you blinked at him and searched his face for any sign he was joking. there wasn't any. in fact, he looked proud.

he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek. a hint of lemon hit your nose. you frowned immediately and turned to him.

"there should be a tlc show for people like you," you shook your head in disbelief. "i'm truly at a loss of words."

"of course sweets." the idiot thinks you're thanking him for putting you onto his bizarre routine. this was enough to give a derm a heart attack. but nonetheless, your boyfriend somehow made it work. "you're so welcome."

the next hour was spent convincing him that he was an anomaly and his method would definitely not work on you.

Spectra YYEEE

not saying people can’t hate ayando, that’s their opinion but to use the same, “it doesn’t make sense” argument is so annoying lol. ofc, i try to ignore vids like that when they pop up but i just needed to rant about it bc whew i don’t play about ayando lolol