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emonaculate · 24 days ago

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PART II OUT NOW HEHE!!! THANK YOU AGAIN FOR ALL THE NOTES AND SUPPORT!

Emon babbles...

This idea has been plaguing my mind, but I couldn't figure out how to write it in the way I visualize it in my brain. So, why not give you all what I have in the meantime?

Bandmate!Gojo x Readerــــــــﮩ٨ـ

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who didn’t even want to be at this tacky-ass three-day audition. He had better things to do than wake up before the birds and the worms just to hear sob stories and half-baked songs from wannabe musicians hoping to ride the coattails of his fame.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s uncharacteristically… cruel? He claims it’s just because he’s not a morning person—that it has nothing to do with the reason they’re even holding auditions for a new bassist. But Gojo Satoru has always been a terrible liar. Everyone knows it. Especially Shoko.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo still manages to tower over his bandmates, Nanami and Shoko, even while slouched in his seat—absently clicking and unclicking a pen, expression unreadable behind nearly pitch-black shades. He rolls his eyes as another girl onstage gushes about how he saved her, how she loves him… blah blah blah.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who gets elbowed—hard—by Shoko. She doesn't need to see his eyes to know he's zoning out and back on his bullshit. She always knows.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo isn’t usually the bad guy. A menace? Sure. Annoying? Absolutely. Cocky? Always. But this version—this cold, detached, almost cruel version? That’s new. That’s not him.

But he doesn’t know how to go back. Back to when the band was whole. Back to when music actually meant something. Back to when Geto was still with him. with the band.

Nothing's been the same since.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo watches the girl slink offstage, dejected after failing to get her “main character moment.” He shouldn’t feel satisfied, but he does. Something is intoxicating about having that kind of power over someone.

“You’re a piece of shit, y’know that?” Nanami’s voice cuts through the silence. Calm. Cold.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who usually lets criticism roll off his back like water. After all, he knows who he is: a prodigy, a pioneer, a legend in the making. His influence will echo long after he's gone. But what unsettles him—what really gets under his skin—is when someone sees through the performance. Past the cocky smirk, the designer sunglasses, the tattoos and piercings, the curated persona. Nanami might be one of those people.

And that terrifies him.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who pretends Nanami’s stare doesn’t make his skin crawl—doesn’t make him feel seen in the worst possible way. He shrugs, casual and dismissive, but his fingers tighten around the pen in his hand until the plastic creaks.

“Nanami…” Shoko warns, her voice low. She can feel the tension thickening, like a storm about to break. This conversation? It’s been a long time coming.

“No,” Nanami cuts her off, voice gentle but firm. “He needs to hear this. The label won’t say anything, and I know you’re tired of getting dragged for his behavior too.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels his eye twitch. Slowly, deliberately, he drags his gaze up to meet Nanami’s. A smirk curls at his lips, and he lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“You got something you wanna say to me, Kenny?”

“I’m glad you think all this is funny,” Nanami replies, voice steady, hands tucked neatly in his lap like he’s discussing the weather. “Let me tell you what I find really fucking funny.”

He turns his chair to face Satoru directly and leans forward slightly, manspread, not to intimidate him—but to talk to him, man to man.

“You’re a twenty-three-year-old burnout lashing out at everyone around you. You're angry at the world, but the truth is, you're the reason everything's falling apart. You’re the reason Geto dumped you.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo shoots up from his chair, the metal legs screeching violently against the floor before the whole thing crashes backward with a loud clang. The sheer aggression in his movement makes the air crackle. That mocking smirk is gone.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who takes a single step forward, and before the second one even lands, Nanami is already moving—controlled, practiced, deliberate. In one fluid motion, he swaps places with Shoko, placing himself squarely between her and Gojo without a word.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who seethes as his chest rises and falls, fists clenched tight, turning his knuckles white at his sides. The pen, long forgotten, lies cracked on the floor near the upturned chair.

“You wanna say that again?” He growls, voice low and venomous like a snake ready to strike. His shades had been discarded during the commotion, and his gaze was nothing but a dark azure color as he glared.

Despite how scary Gojo looks at the moment, Nanami remains unshaken and firm. “I don’t repeat myself. You heard me the first time.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who suddenly feels like he’s vibrating out of his own skin. His vision flashes white-hot with rage and—something else. Guilt, maybe. Pain, definitely. But mostly, he just wants to hit something. Break something. Make someone else feel the way he’s been feeling for months.

Shoko forcefully wedges herself between the two men and lets out a low hum as if she hasn’t just been caught in the middle of a powder keg ready to blow. She gives Nanami a reassuring smile, relieved to see the blonde ease up immediately.

“Alright,” she breathes out lowly, “who wants to explain to the label that the bassist auditions ended in a fistfight? Let's just get through the last audition and call it a night.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who doesn’t move. Who doesn’t breathe for a second too long? His eyes still locked on his target; Nanami.

Because for all his anger—for all the pressure in his chest and heat behind his eyes—he knows Nanami is right. And that’s what pisses him off the most.

“Please… Satoru?” Her voice is soft, tired in a way that hurts way more than yelling could ever compare. And for a flicker of a second, something in him stirs. Guilt. Once upon a time, he was the guy who would tell someone off for stressing Shoko out. Once upon a time, he was the guy who would protect her.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo tears his eyes away from Nanami wordlessly, jaw tight as he forces himself to back down. The rage in his chest doesn’t vanish, but it simmers just enough to allow him to move. For Shoko.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who bends to pick up his chair with slow, deliberate movements, as though controlling the pace of his own unraveling. He counts silently in his head as a means to calm down while he moves the chair. He sets it upright without a word, the echo of metal legs scraping across the floor barely audible over the hush of the room.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who doesn’t acknowledge the crew’s concerned murmurs. If they were so concerned, they would have done more to help alleviate the situation besides just watching.

"Are you alright?" "Do you want some water?" "Should we take a break?"

He ignores all of it. Eyes forward. Shoulders squared. Like nothing happened.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo sinks into the chair again, but it’s different now. The slouch is gone. His hands rest on his thighs, clenched into fists. He picked up his sunglasses and placed them on the top of his head. They're slightly lopsided, but he makes no move to fix them.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo was sure he hated himself more than anyone else could.

Y/n, who had been waiting backstage for what felt like hours, hears her name finally called—flatly, almost like an afterthought. Damn. Maybe calling out of work to be here wasn't the brightest idea.

“Next up... Y/N L/N.”

Y/n, who walks in clutching a slightly-too-big journal to her chest, its edges worn and dog-eared from being dragged through years of lyrics and late-night thoughts. A seaweed colored bass, with various aged stickers on it as decor, is slung across her back.

Y/n, who had promised herself she wouldn’t freeze—wouldn’t fangirl or stumble or stare too hard. But when she steps under the lights and sees him in the flesh for the first time, her breath still hitches.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who barely even looks like the version of himself plastered across album covers and magazine spreads. There’s no spotlight glow here, no teasing grin or playful arrogance. He was just there.

Y/n, who felt that starstruck shimmer fade, like fog burning off in daylight. Because this close, Gojo Satoru doesn’t look untouchable. He looks hollow. Like someone who lost something or someone important and never figured out how to fill the space it left behind.

Y/n blinks, clears her throat, and adjusts her grip on her journal as she crosses the stage. Her scuffed red high-top Converse echoes with every step.

“Y/n, right? Thanks for waiting.” Shoko meekly smiles; it's clear she wants to give an explanation for the delay, but knows better.

Y/n nods absently and begins shifting her bass around to rest in front of her. “Yeah. Of course.”

She doesn’t say she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. She doesn’t say that the only thing keeping her from throwing up backstage was the sketch she doodled of her setup in the margins of that same battered journal.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who still hasn’t said a word. Still hasn’t really looked at her. Y/n feels something twist in her chest—not disappointment, not exactly. Just the quiet understanding that legends are people, too. Flawed. Fractured. Geez, angsty much?

She plugs in. Fingers hover just above the strings.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t bother to look up as the girl starts playing. He’s already heard enough bad renditions of their hits today to fill a lifetime. The stage lights hum. Someone in the crew coughs in the corner. The low rumble of nervous fingers plucking strings reaches his ears. He pulls his shades back down over his eyes; he could already feel a migraine coming on.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo clenches his jaw as she stumbles through the first few measures. The rhythm is off. The timing slips. Her tone’s there, somewhere, but it’s drowning in nerves and a touch too much hesitance. He hears her miss a transition—rookie mistake.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. He finally lifts his head just slightly, not enough to meet her eyes, but enough to glare over the rim of his sunglasses.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s done. He can’t stand another second of it.

“Alright,” he snaps, voice slicing through the room like a whip. “Stop. Fuck. Just—seriously. Stop.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who stands up, raking a hand through his snowy hair with visible agitation. “This is insane. Every person that walks on this stage either wants to fuck me, cry on me, or butcher my songs like it’s some kind of sick talent show. I don’t need another hopeful fangirl with a decent smile and a hobby.”

His voice rises.

“Where are the real musicians? The ones who feel it in their goddamn DNA? Who play like they’d bleed for it, not like they’re worried about hitting the right note just to impress someone they saw on a magazine cover!”

“Jesus, Satoru…” Shoko winces and mutters under her breath.

“You could’ve just said she’s not ready.” Nanami, presses a hand to his forehead.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who meets her stare for the first time. Actually looks at her. And for a moment, something about the way she’s holding her bass again—this time not as a shield, but like a weapon—makes him pause.

“…I appreciate the opportunity…”

Y/n starts and leans into the mic, her voice soft and sweet. She trails off, but her gaze doesn’t break. Something’s changed. The stage lights don’t feel so big anymore. The nerves melt right off her shoulders as she tilts her head, considers him—really considers him. Her gaze flashes from what was once starstruck to almost condescending.

Her sweet, soft tone sharpens into something sharp-edged and raspy—the kind of voice that belongs in front of crowds, under spotlights, on vinyl.

“You say all this about real musicians and what true artists are… but you don’t even look like one yourself.”

The room stills.

“I know I’m a real musician. I know I could keep up with you on your so-called ‘level.’ OR even outplay you. Hell, I could play any song you throw at me blindfolded and I wouldn’t miss a single note.”

She steps closer to the mic, wrapping her manicured hand around it as she raises her voice. The bass hangs at her hip now like it’s fused to her. Her voice is filled with pure confidence and snark.

“So go ahead and throw your tantrum, bitch. But don’t talk to me like I don’t fucking belong here.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who lets out a sharp laugh—humorless, more reflex than joy. She really just said that. To him. He steps forward slowly, only the sound of the chains around his neck is heard with how quiet the room is.

“Oh, you’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that,” He mutters, tilting his head just slightly to the side. His voice lowers, smug and dangerous. “Big words for someone who can’t even hold tempo under pressure.”

Y/n, however, doesn't waver. Doesn’t shift. She just watches him, chest rising and falling steadily, like she wants him to try her. The look in her eyes screams nothing if not defiant.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who sees the challenge in her eyes and decides, Fine. You want to prove it? Let's see you burn.

“Alright, hotshot.” He lifts a hand and snaps his fingers toward a crew member. “Bring me a six-string. Get the monitors live.”

“You’re seriously doing this now?”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who ignores Nanami's protests, is already pulling off his black aviator jacket and letting it fall carelessly behind a speaker. Someone hands him his guitar—a weathered custom model, black body, silver hardware, nearly as iconic as he is. His toned arms flex underneath his grey wife-beater as he holds the guitar.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who doesn’t even need to tune it. Just slings it on and strums a few warmup chords with effortless precision, muscle memory sharp from years of living in this world. He looks up at her, eyes glinting behind his crooked shades.

“Let’s make this simple,” he says, voice low. “You say you can hang with me? Prove it. ‘Charmolypi.’”

Y/n stills as she hears the title—not from fear, but sheer shock. That track was never released as sheet music. No tabs. No official breakdowns. Only the live version exists online—jagged, brutal, unforgiving. The song that reminds him of Geto. The song Gojo never plays anymore.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo watches Y/n closely now, waiting for her to fold. Daring her to.

“Blindfolded, right?” he adds with a singsong grin that’s almost cruel. “Unless that was just another line for the mic.”

Y/n slowly, silently, pulls her journal from the amp where she left it. She sets it down. Unzips a side pocket. Pulls out a black ribbon and ties it calmly around her head—right over her eyes. The room suddenly became even quieter.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, whose smirk falters for just a second. Y/n lifts the bass effortlessly and adjusts her grip, then rolls her shoulders back like she's about to dive head first off a cliff.

“I hope you’re ready to keep up with me,” Y/n says into the mic.

There's a pause in her words...

“Bitch.”

Ah there it is.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who can’t stop the sharp, stunned laugh that bursts out of him.

“…You’re insane.”

But this time, he doesn’t sound mad. He sounds alive.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t look at her right away. He watches her in fragments. Through the slant of his lowered head. Through his lashes. Through the spaces between his thoughts, where the ghosts tend to live.

Charmolypi. A song with a name that means joy mixed with grief. A kind of beauty that hurts to hold. It was never meant for public ears, just something born between long nights, cigarette smoke, and a friendship that cracked before it could heal.

He plays the opening chords like muscle memory—because it has to be. His fingers know the way better than his heart does. That part of him got buried under too many headlines and hangovers, under too many nights he couldn’t quite remember but always seemed to end with Geto’s name stuck in his throat.

The strings hum.

And then she begins to play. Y/n, blindfolded, hands steady, pulse louder than the amp she plugs into. And yet, she starts anyway.

She comes in slightly behind him at first, just a breath too cautious. He’s already rolling his eyes in the back of his mind when she catches the rhythm mid-step, and holds it. No stutter. No flinch. It’s like watching someone walk a tightrope barefoot, terrified and trembling, but still refusing to fall. He almost respects it. Then she improvises.

Not just to show off. It’s nothing flashy. No desperate finger-speed acrobatics like the other posers who tried to impress him with technique and no soul. This? This is something else. She adds four notes. Quiet. Intentional. Mournful in a way that feels too intimate to be accidental. A deviation so subtle it would’ve gone unnoticed—except Gojo feels it; right in the center of his goddamn chest.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo suddenly looks at her. Really really looks. The blindfold. The curve of her mouth, not smirking, not posing. Just concentrating. Like she’s trying to wring something honest from a song that was never meant to see the light of day. Her hands move like she’s searching. Not for applause, but for meaning.

And something sharp pierces the haze behind his eyes. For a second, he sees Geto.

Geto, who used to press his forehead to Gojo’s back after long studio sessions and hum the bassline into his spine while Gojo pretended it didn’t make his breath hitch.

Geto, who co-wrote Charmolypi in a hotel bedroom while the rest of them slept. Who refused to write lyrics for it because he said the music should “ache in silence.”

Geto, who walked out of Gojo’s life without ever saying goodbye. No closure. No letters. Just an empty seat, and a song that no one else was ever supposed to touch.

Until now.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, whose jaw clenches. Because she shouldn’t be able to play this. She shouldn't understand the weight of it. And yet—here she is. Breathing life into something he left to rot. Y/n, who improvises again during the bridge. Adds a cascading fill that slips through his melody like water through fingers. It's like she’s not playing with him. She’s playing to him. Speaking in a language only musicians and broken people understand.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who suddenly can’t look away. There’s something infuriating about her. About the way she walks in here, green and trembling, but still braver than half the industry fakes he’s had to deal with in the last year. She’s raw. She’s rough around the edges. But she’s honest. And that’s the one thing he’s been starving for without even knowing it. The final note hangs in the air. It echoes like the end of a confession. Silence follows. But not the kind that asks for applause. It’s heavier than that. Reverent. Like something just shifted.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo exhales, and realizes he was holding his breath. He hates that she made him do that.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who speaks first, low and flat. “You improvised.”

“Was I not allowed to?” Y/n, still blindfolded, lifts her chin.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo almost says yes. Almost says she ruined it. But he remembers the ache in that bridge. The way her fingers knew where to fill the silence.

“You made it better,” he says instead, the words tasting like betrayal.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who looks at the girl still standing on that stage like it doesn’t take everything in him not to ask her to play it again. Not because he needs proof—but because he needs to feel that truth again. That ache. That joy. That grief. He’ll never tell her what Charmolypi really means. He’ll never tell her how he and Geto played the song for the first time together, as a confession for things unsaid, both of them bleeding in different ways, neither willing to say it out loud. He’ll never tell her that this was the first time the song didn’t feel like a grave.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who knows now: he’s going to keep her around.

Not for romance. Not for drama. But because something about her matters. And for the first time in a long time, Gojo Satoru wants to see what comes next.

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emonaculate · 24 days ago

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Emon babbles II...

Woah... you guys loved the first drabble, huh? Honestly, I'm a little shocked at how well it did, considering I only had bits and pieces of a story. Thank you for all the support! I do appreciate all the feedback! Let me know if you'd like a full-fledged fic out of this, or if you'd prefer the drabble format.

Bandmate!Gojo x Readerــــــــﮩ٨ـ

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who is five months out from the infamous Welcome Home Palooza, sits alone in the dim glow of Studio C—his favorite room to rot in nowadays. Being alone in a studio is a hell of a lot easier than interacting with people.

The walls are padded in midnight blue, the air heavy with old smoke and the hum of equipment left on standby. The only light comes from a single desk lamp that flickers sometimes, like even it doesn’t know how to stay steady.

His guitar rests against his thigh, glistening as it mocks him. He plays the same three chords. Again. And again. And again. The tempo is off. The bridge won’t land. The chorus feels cheap. Everything he writes sounds like someone else wrote it. Someone who is trying to make a cheap, straight-to-retail stores' radio cash grab.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who is supposed to be introducing a brand-new song at their biggest show for long-term fans who actually KNOW what his music is supposed to sound like.

A homecoming. A resurrection. Or a slow, public execution. He can’t tell which.

The deadlines are crawling closer. The pressure is a weight in his chest. This is the first palooza he has ever had to do with Geto. Maybe, that's why its so hard for him to come up with new material. He stares at the notebook sitting beside him—blank, accusing, waiting. He’s written nothing. He doesn’t even have a title. Just a looping mess of sounds that refuse to mean anything.

Where the hell do you even start when everything already feels like the ending?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojostrums the strings harder. Wrong. All wrong. The riff comes out ugly. He stops. Breathes in. Breathes out. Counts to four. Still wrong. He closes his eyes and leans back in the chair, head tilted toward the ceiling, waiting for the drop of something—inspiration, maybe. Grace. A ghost. Or maybe for the ceiling to collapse and kill him.

However he is only met with the response of silence. Then—his phone buzzes. He knows it's Shoko. She's the only one who checks on him anymore. She pretends to not care, but she has always been in his corner... even when he doesn't deserve it.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t want to answer. He wants to let it go to voicemail. But considering he has gotten no where in the past three hours, he might as well. Not like he has anything better going on. He presses accept and stays quiet.

“Still hunched over in that studio?” she asks. No preamble.

“Still smoking those cancer sticks?” he fires back.

A pause. The kind that says you win this round, bitch.

“I’ve got news,” she sighs. “About Y/n”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels his jaw twitch. He says nothing. She had been an enigma in his mind since they had played together. He thought about how he looked at her and all he saw was Geto. He remembered the feeling of his heart rate spiking and palms growing sweaty as she removed the blindfold, ruining the illusion. There was something about the way she really looked at him afterwards. Like actually looked. Saw him. He panicked and bolted out of the room.

Shoko knows that silence. She keeps going.

“Execs said no. She’s out. Too new. Too unpolished. Not marketable enough. They used a lot of words to say ‘we’re scared of taking risks.’ You know the drill.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn't answer at first. Not because he doesn’t have anything to say—but because he has too much. Y/n's playing has been stuck in his head since the audition like a melody with no name. He remembers the shape of her confidence. The fire in her voice when she said she could keep up with him—blindfolded. She turned Charmolypi into a conversation without knowing the history.

And now, just like that, he lost Geto all over again. I mean a new bassist. His grip tightens on the guitar neck until his knuckles pale.

“Say something,” Shoko pleads. “Or throw something. I don’t care. Just don’t sit there shutting me out again. ”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo lifts the guitar again. Plays the same three chords. They don't sound real anymore with how many times he has replayed them..

“Did they give a reason?” he mutters.

“I told you. Image. PR. All bullshit.” She pauses, then adds carefully, “They don’t think she fits our sound.”

Gojo snorts. “She was our sound.”

Another beat of silence.

“You gonna fight this?” she asks.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t know. He wants to. But there’s something heavy hanging over it all—something rooted in the song he hasn’t finished and the person he hasn’t forgiven. Y/N reminded him of Geto, that was undeniable. Obviously, not in the way she looked, or talked. But in the way she made music feel like it still meant something. Like it could still save something.

But maybe Gojo doesn’t want to be saved. Maybe he was scared to try and push for this girl to join his band because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to push aside the fact that all he saw when he looked at her was his ex-lover. His bestfriend. The one that got away. What if that line blurred and he did something terrible? Ruined another person? He seemed to have a track record for ruining the good in amazing musicians.

Shoko seems to sense where his mind is drifting. “Look. You’ve got five months to write something that doesn’t sound like a eulogy. I’m just saying—maybe the thing you need to fix this… isn’t something. Maybe it’s someone.”

He doesn’t answer. He just keeps playing the same three chords, slightly slower now. Still not right.

"Just think about it. Don't forget to take a break, though." Shoko added before ending the call.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo , who gets literally kicked out of the studio by Shoko, doesn’t argue when she tosses a crumpled ball cap at his chest and jerks a thumb toward the door.

“You need air. And a damn attitude adjustment.”

He doesn’t bother lashing back. Not because he agrees with her— hell no— but because the fight feels like too much effort. Everything does lately. Maybe he should request his doctor to up his meds?

“Don’t forget the mask,” she calls after him as he walks down the hallway. “The last thing we need is another headline about your ‘mysterious public breakdown.’”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s dressed like teenage girl who just discovered streetwear's wet dream— navy blue ball cap pulled low, oversized white jersey flapping open over a long sleeve that hides his infamous yet easily recognizable tattoos, baggy cargo pants low enough to piss off any manager on payroll, and a plain black mask pulled snug over his face— blends in for once. A nobody in the middle of a city that only cares about nobodies when they become rich ass somebodies overnight.

The moment he steps outside, L.A. wraps around him— hot pavement, the smell of gas and cigarettes, the smear of sunset like an old bruise across the sky.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

He pulls it out, scanning a few messages. One from his agent — ignored. Two from fans who somehow got his real number again — blocked.

Then… An unfamiliar number. Just a single message.

did you really feel that threatened by how much better i am than you?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo freezes mid-step. The corner of his mouth unknowingly twitches, almost against his will—not quite a smile, more like the idea of one. He reads the message again. He’s not used to being challenged, let alone teased this casually. He didn't even question how she managed to get his number.

It’s Y/n. Has to be.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo stares at the words, chewing them over like lyrics he hasn’t quite figured out how to sing yet. The audacity. The gall. The fact that she didn’t beg for a second chance— didn’t ask anything of him. Just hit send and dared him to deal with it.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels his face flush for the first time in years. God, what was he, a kid in grade school? No way he is getting flustered by a girl being this casual with him. He had snake bites and a tongue piercing for crying out loud! If he could sit through that pain, he could handle some random girl texting his phone. She's not just some random girl, though.

So what she was someone who, for the first time in forever, reminded him of why he started playing in the first place. That feeling. That fire. That ache. And it wasn’t from fame. Or fans. Or ego. It was from someone showing up and refusing to shrink beneath his shadow.

It didn't mean anything. He should ignore the text. He should block her and move on and keep pretending none of this matters. But instead, his thumbs hover over the screen. He types. Deletes. Types again.

you spelled “lucky” wrong.

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it. The reply comes quick.

bitch behavior. didn’t deny it though.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who now walks the block with a barely-contained laugh behind his mask, feels that same feeling stir in his ribs that he originally felt when they played together.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, whose feet carry him aimlessly down side streets and cracked sidewalks, past tattoo parlors glowing red with neon, taco stands setting up for late-night rushes, and murals half-covered in new graffiti. It's noisy, alive — and yet, it feels like he's underwater. Everything muffled. Everyone moving too fast.

He thumbs a reply, each word deliberately careless:

deny what? that you played like a high schooler with stage fright?

But before he can hit send, he pauses. Deletes the last half. He rewrites it. Too mean.

deny what? i didn’t know confidence came with delusion these days.

He stares at it for a second. Debating. Not bad.. not too mean? Its fine. Stop over thinking it.

Then: send.

His phone buzzes back within seconds.

says the guy who couldn’t even look me in the eye the whole time i played. what’s the matter, did real talent make you nervous? or am I just that breathtaking?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo actually stops walking this time, standing in the yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp. Is she flirting or mocking him? A couple passes him on the sidewalk, laughing softly as they brush hands. He doesn't move, doesn’t even notice.

There’s a subtle tightening in his chest. Not pain, exactly. More like friction. Pressure. Get a grip, you're Gojo Satoru. Worldwide superstar. Not some loser who has never felt the touch of a woman before. You don't like this girl; you like the fact that she reminds you of who you lost. Nothing more.

says the girl who was about to cry because her pinky slipped off the E string? don’t act like you didn’t flinch when i raised my voice. tough girls don’t blink.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo regrets the last sentence the moment it sends. Way too mean. Too much like the version of him Shoko keeps threatening to drag to therapy. But it’s already out there. Her reply takes longer this time. Five minutes. Then ten. He starts walking again, slower now. He cuts across a parking lot and sits on the edge of a short wall, staring out at the blur of headlights streaming down the street.

Finally, her response comes.

you’re right. i did flinch. because you reminded me what failure looks like. and i don’t want to end up like you. damn near passed out at the mere thought.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who has been called a genius, a god, a generational talent, sits in stunned silence, phone glowing back at him as if he looked hard enough, the message would rewrite itself into something more pleasant.

He blinks once. Twice. Then, he smiles. Not the cocky smirk, not the fake stage-grin. A real one. Twisted, bitter, maybe a little impressed.

ok. fine. show me how not to end up like me then.

The three dots bounce on his screen. Typing. Stopping. Typing again. But no reply comes. He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky, the city lights washing out the stars. For the first time in months, he’s not thinking about Geto. Not about the way things fell apart. Not about how he ruined the relationship with the person he cared about most. Just about a girl who called him a bitch and made him want to pick up his guitar again— not to be better than anyone else. But to prove he still could.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, phone screen dims. Thirty minutes pass. Still no reply. He doesn’t like that.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t like being the one left hanging. He’s the cliff, not the one dangling from it. The back-and-forth was fun. Sharp. Flirty without trying to be. But now that it’s quiet, all the self-assuredness he wears like cologne starts to wear thin. He checks the signal on his phone like it’s the service’s fault.

Then— buzz.

A message. No words. Just a location pin. A blue dot blinking somewhere less than a mile from where he’s perched.

wtf does that mean. hello? you forget how to type? are you luring me out to kill me bc ngl, i’d respect that.

No response. Gojo stares at the location again. He shouldn’t go. He won’t go. It’s probably just a flex. A test. A trap. ...So why is he already walking with the GPS pulled up?

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who has slipped through hundreds of backdoors in venues across the world, now walks quietly, alone, on side streets lit with strings of warm lights and the occasional flickering sign. He follows the map. It leads him to a small café tucked between a yoga studio and an old comic shop. The kind of place with mismatched tables and a chalkboard sign outside that says OPEN MIC / LOCAL TALENT NIGHT in scrawled white letters. It’s packed. People are standing shoulder to shoulder, heads tilted toward a small stage in the back, where a single spotlight beams down like a soft halo.

He doesn’t need to ask where she is.

Because there, in the middle of that warmth and color and attention, is Y/n. Alone onstage. No band. No fanfare. Just her bass slung low, her fingers moving with casual, devastating control. Her eyes are wide as she plays with a fever he couldn't describe. Her body swaying to a rhythm that doesn’t seem rehearsed, but lived in.

And the sound—God. Even her voice is pretty. It’s fluid. Gritty. Intimate. Full of breathless pauses and surprise riffs . She’s not showing off—not technically. She’s telling a story. And the crowd? They're caught in her gravity. No phones out. No talking. Just listening. She plucks a run of notes, and Gojo feels them.

Somewhere in his ribs. That little space between ache and awe. He leans against the doorframe in the back, hidden by shadows. Watching.

Y/N glances up mid-song, and for a second, her eyes flicker to the back of the room. He swears she sees him. But she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t flinch.

Just presses deeper into the melody like it’s a challenge, and Gojo swears he can hear it in the way her fingers shift: “You came.”

And something in his chest replies— “Yeah.”

The final note hums like the last breath of a storm. Y/n lets it hang, vibrating in the air for one extra beat before she slowly lifts her hand off the strings. No flourish. No bow. Just a nod— like that performance was for her, not them. Applause erupts, sudden and full-bodied. Gojo watches her give a tight smile to the crowd, say something polite into the mic, and then slip off the stage without waiting for praise.

She disappears behind a curtain for a moment. The next act sets up— two girls with matching hair clips and a shared acoustic guitar. The energy shift is immediate. But Gojo’s not watching them. Because she’s walking toward him now. Calm. Unhurried. Eyes pinned to his like she’s not even bothering to pretend this is coincidence.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who’s sat in green rooms with legends and walked off stage to standing ovations, suddenly feels too tall for his chair. He straightens up—too quickly— like he didn’t just get caught staring. Y/n stops in front of him and squints. Then, with all the flatness of someone pointing out a spilled drink:

"Your disguise is terrible, by the way."

Gojo blinks. “...You think so?”

She cocks her head, arms crossing. “You look like what an adolescent girl, too young to be on Tumblr, would climax over if she could dress her crush.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojosnorts— but behind the mask, it's more like a sharp exhale. She slides into the chair across from him. Her movements unceremonious, confident, like this was always the plan. Like he’s the one intruding on her evening.

"I’m surprised you made it," she says, flicking a glance toward the stage as the next act begins tuning.

“Only caught the end.” He says it casually, but the way his fingers tap restlessly at the edge of the table gives him away. “Didn’t think you were into open mic nights.”

“I’m not. But they’re into me.” She shrugs. “And this is the only place that’ll let me play without turning it into a PR stunt.”

She doesn’t say like your label did, but he hears it anyway.

A waitress comes by. Y/N orders with practiced ease, like she comes here often.

“Strawberry shortcake,” she says, pointing at Gojo with her thumb. “And an energy drink for me. Tall can. Yellow tropical.”

Gojo raises a brow. “Didn’t realize you knew my order.”

“I didn’t. You just look like you need something sweet to shut you up.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo opens his mouth to reply, but it’s gone— the wit, the snark. She’s leaned back now, arms over the chair, the dim café lights softening the edges of her face. Not smiling. Not trying to make him laugh.

Just looking at him. And it’s so unsettlingly… normal and easy. The waitress disappears. The music starts again— the girls on stage begin to sing something breathy and delicate about summer and loss. They sit there, saying nothing for a moment.

Then Y/n, softly speaks; her voice as sweet and light as it was during her audition originally:

"Why’d you come, Satoru?"

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo doesn’t answer right away. Because he doesn't know what would be worse— telling her the truth… or lying. That it wasn’t about rivalry. Or pride. It was because she made him feel something. Something that he thought he'd never feel again. The presence of Geto. All when she played. He could feel Geto's touch. His smell. His laughter that could echo off the walls for miles. That would be crazy to admit. Deranged. Wrong. So instead, he shrugs. Leans back in his seat.

“Wanted to see if you were as good as your ego said.”

Y/N smirks faintly, tilting the energy drink to her lips as it arrives.

“And?”

The waitress sets the shortcake in front of him. Gojo picks up the fork, breaks off a piece of strawberry, and answers with a mouthful.

"...You’re better."

They sit together for longer than they probably should.

A steady stream of local talent drifts on and off the stage— an indie rock duo with too much reverb, a slam poet who forgot half their lines, a jazz quartet that brought the house back to life. But Gojo only half-listens. His attention keeps drifting sideways, toward the girl sitting across from him, draining her energy drink and poking at the condensation on the side of the can like it’s more interesting than anything happening on stage.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who once sold out Narendra Modi Stadium in less than hour, can’t remember the last time he sat this still.

Y/n laughs at something the girl onstage says— a soft, bright laugh that bursts out of her without restraint. When she laughs, she laughs. Her whole body lifts like a wave cresting, shoulders bouncing, her nose crinkling as the sound fills their little corner of the cafe. And God, it hurts. Because she reminds him of him. Not just in the way her presence draws people in like gravity, though that's part of it. It’s subtler than that. Quieter. The resemblance is all in the details.

In the sharp slice of her eyebrow, like it was carved there by accident during a night too wild to remember. The small silver ring through the side of her nose, glinting under warm lights. The faint constellation of freckles that dust her cheekbones, barely there until she tips her face up to laugh.

And then there's her smile— wide, full, but with a crooked tooth that only adds to her charm. It's not perfect. Which is exactly what makes it unforgettable. She talks with her hands. Gestures big, like every word needs space to stretch. Just like Geto used to.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo feels it— the old ache, that space inside him where Suguru used to live. He thinks he’s gotten used to it by now. The hollowness. The silence. But watching Y/n from the side, it's like pressing on a bruise that never fully healed.

“Hey,” she says suddenly, voice casual, but her gaze is sharp. “You keep staring like that, and people are gonna start thinking you’re in love with me.”

He snorts. “If I were, it’d be purely out of admiration for your excellent fashion sense.”

“Oh yeah?” she leans in, feigning seriousness. “You trying to copy my look under that busted disguise?”

He grins under the mask, shaking his head. “Please. If I showed up dressed like you, I’d get mobbed.”

“Well then,” she raises her can in a mock-toast, “consider yourself lucky. No one here’s even bothered to ask if you’re the Gojo Satoru. Your anonymity’s doing great.”

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “I worked really hard to look this chopped.”

Y/N snickers and sits back, watching the next performer fumble with a mic stand. Then, after a stretch of companionable silence, she sighs.

“I’m okay with not being in the band, you know.”

Gojo’s fingers tense slightly against the table. Y/n doesn’t look at him. She just keeps watching the stage, her tone neutral.

“I knew when they brought me in, it wasn’t going to happen. You’ve got too much weight around that group. Too much grief. They want someone to fill a spot— not replace anyone. And I’m not trying to be a ghost in someone else’s place. I am my own person, y'know. ”

Her words hang heavy between them. Truthful. Unbothered. And Gojo, who’s spent months pretending he doesn’t care, finally admits — that’s exactly it. Suguru was irreplaceable. Not just because of the talent or the history. But because of who he was to all of them. To him.

And now here’s this girl: too loud, too honest, too damn talented; who won’t slot neatly into a role designed for someone long gone. Because she’s not a replacement. She’s herself. Gojo looks at her again and he doesn’t know what to say. But for once, maybe that’s okay. So instead, he nudges his plate toward her— one last bite of strawberry shortcake untouched.

“Wanna finish it?”

She looks at him, then at the cake, then back.

“Sharing sweets? You like me that much?.”

He shrugs. “Call it a peace offering.”

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who stands outside the little cafe, the buzz of streetlamps flickering overhead as L.A.’s night air kisses at the edges of his skin through the loose jersey he’s half-zipped. The world hums around him, but he only hears the echo of her laugh— still ringing behind his ribs like a leftover chord.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who stands there awkwardly, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other idly spinning the cap of his lychee soda bottle, unsure if he’s supposed to say something else—something meaningful. But Y/N’s already turning; her energy drink can tossed into a bin with a flick of her fingers.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who watches her walk away with an effortless bounce in her step, a light skip slipping into her stride like she forgot she was supposed to play it cool.

She doesn’t look back. But he does.

He watches her—shoulders relaxed, hoodie slightly oversized, her silhouette swallowed up by the city’s amber haze. The faint clink of her bass case as it shifts against her back. That goddamn silver nose ring catching the light. The way her plump-lipped smile had lingered a little too long in his memory.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who sighs so hard it fogs up it heats up the masks he has on. He tugs it off in a fluid motion and pulls off the cap, running a hand through his now-damp hair.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who kicks at a pebble on the sidewalk and mutters under his breath, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” like the universe dared to give him another person who shines too bright and burns just as fast.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who stands still long after Y/N has disappeared from sight, feeling that annoying tug in his chest — the one that makes him clench his jaw and pretend his heart doesn’t still flinch when he thinks about Geto.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo who realizes, as he exhales and rolls his shoulders back, that he doesn’t care what the label said. Or what bullshit reason they gave. Or how complicated it might be to add her to their lineup.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojowho makes up his mind right then and there, staring into the cool L.A. night, that she’s in the band— no matter what.

✮⋆˙Bandmate!Gojo, who is a lot of things—a menace, a legend, a walking PR nightmare— but he’s not a coward.

He'll fight the execs. He'll deal with Nanami’s judgment. He’ll deal with his own aching, unresolved ghosts.

But he is not letting someone like Y/N slip away. Not when she might be the only person in five goddamn years to make music feel alive again.

And especially not when she calls him a bitch and still somehow makes him want to write a song about it.

51 notes · View notes

emonaculate · 24 days ago

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Everytime someone makes Choso dominant (even for a little bit) an Angel gains it wings!

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙈𝙚𝙣 𝙁𝙖𝙫 𝘼𝙡𝙩 𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠 ♡

₊˚⊹♡

NURU MASSAGE ft. Choso Kamo x Reader m.list

summary: Choso has stamina for days but needs to work on his endurance and you know the perfect way to achieve that.

cw: nuru, edging, dirty talk, cockrings, femdom, slight masochism/sadism a/n: My fav anon, 🪞 anon, requested a list of JJK Men Fav Alt Fuck Kinks (non vag penetration). Love the idea but I'm pretty busy so going to release these one by one when I find the time. I will update the ask as an m.list for it soon. wc: 2.3k slightly black fem coded, no descriptors

Recently devirginized Choso who is still working on his endurance but has plenty of stamina. He cums quickly but recovers just as fast, fucking you and himself into repeated overstimulation until you are both delirious.

By the end of the night you are a sticky fucked out mess. Choso spurts out more buckets of his cum inside you than your poor pussy can hold to the point you are questioning the limits of your birth control, not to mention washing your sheets daily.

However, you know something needs to be done when no amount of aftercare can stop his cum from still oozing out of you at work during the day. You quickly realized you needed to pack an extra change of panties with you as the ones you have on are guaranteed to be completely soiled by lunchtime.

For the sake of your cunt which had turned into a storage well for Choso’s cum and your overwashed bedding and undies that had begun to fray, Choso needed to build some endurance. You knew the perfect way to accomplish that.

That’s how Choso realizes how much he loves nuru massages.

“Y/N, baby, p-puh-lease! L-Let me cum!”

Choso lay whimpering beneath your naked oil slicked body as you slowly rocked your hips on top of him, yet there was no penetration this time.

This was his endurance training.

Choso’s cock was being compressed between his stomach and your cunt as your folds had parted wide to spread over his sizable girth. Your swollen clit drags along the length of him while your tits glisten as they jiggle temptingly in his face like a treat.

You smile down at him sweetly with half-lidded eyes and shake your head no.

Choso doesn’t hold back his whines and cries of frustration at you denying him.

Perhaps you were enjoying the desperation of your half-curse boyfriend withering under you, painfully hard and vulnerable, a bit too much.

You reasoned this was for his benefit just as much as yours while you savored the intense heat of his arousal under you that sent tingles all over your body causing your heart to race with excitement.

Choso on the other hand was biting his inner cheek so hard he almost drew blood.

Honestly, he had never been this hard before.

He surely would have long already spilled a load of creamy white fluids all over his taunt abs from just your bare pussy rubbing on him like this. Yet he couldn’t reach the sweet ecstasy of release due to the tight cockring currently around his girth.

If the torture of you grinding on him wasn’t enough, Choso wasn’t even allowed to touch you as you had his arms restrained overhead. The cute skull charms dangling from the fuzzy black cuffs on his wrists clink together every time he strains against his bindings.

You both knew he could break out of them faster than you could blink. But he promised you he would be a good boy.

However, that still didn’t stop him from begging.

“S-shit-shit baby– Fuck! Let me touch you Y/N, pleaseee! I’ll make you feel so good princess, wanna make you feel so good on my cock.”

You hum out a moan, the rolling of your hips never faltering, as if you were seriously considering his request before your lip slightly curls up.

“Mmm but Cho baby, your cock is already making me feel really good. Ah there! You’re holding back so well like you promised. This is hard for me too, you know.”

You gave him a small look of frustration but it was obvious to him just how much you were enjoying this.

Almost reaching your next high, you couldn’t keep up your weak charade long at all. Your eyelids fluttered and you threw your head back as you picked up the pace bouncing on top of him.

You had cum once already from teasing Choso like this and it was torture for him to play such a passive role. Much preferring to shower you with his affections, he really struggled with receiving, especially given these circumstances.

But promising you to be a good boy, Choso can only watch helplessly as you rut your body, that was divinely perfect in his eyes, against him while your hands roam to grasp and knead your tits.

Something you knew he would quite literally murder to do right now.

Panting rapidly and voice quivering, tremors run through your body as you gush all over on his cock.

A strained cry comes from Choso as he swears he could have busted a nut right then from the feeling of your slicked sweaty thighs shaking and your warm release flowing over his pelvis. The sight of you cumming so hard from just rubbing against him with that dazed look on your face was so fucking sexy and was pushing him beyond his limits.

Barely a minute goes by though before you resume your grinding causing Choso to hiss and throw his head back in defeat.

You weren’t completely lying before though about this being hard for you. Although this was immensely pleasurable it was nothing compared to the feeling of Choso carving his thick shape into your tight cunt and the more you teased him the more you ached for it.

“H-Hear it Cho? How much you just made me cum?”

Of course Choso heard it, the messy squelching sounds of your pretty pussy smacking down on his throbbing cock were the only sounds louder than his whines. The lubricant and his precum mixes with your essence still steadily seeping out of you causing your movements to become sloppy as you slither against him, digging your nails into his sides for leverage.

Choso’s resolve was rapidly crumbling as he started bucking his hips up.

You couldn’t have him breaking so soon though.

You both had decided with his high stamina he should be able to endure you cumming 3 times before he did so he had to last a bit longer.

Even knowing this it didn’t stop the pained sob elicited from your boyfriend when your hips came to a stop.

God, Choso is so fucking baby girl all cute and needy.

The training purposes of your actions were quickly pushed out of your mind as you only wanted to see his handsome face contort, his nose scrunching ever so slightly as he pleaded you for mercy.

Choso could use the safe word if it was really too much but you knew he wouldn’t anyway, Choso was a bit of a masochist when he was in this state.

Your long manicured nails raked red lines along his torso as you sank yourself down flush onto his body.

The moisture easily allowed you to glide your hardened nipples over his as you settled on his chest, continuing to tease him massaging your nipples over his own.

Choso didn't know how much more of this he could handle before snapping and just fucking you, especially now that your perky tits joined with your velvety cunt in the assault against his body.

FUCK!

He definitely wasn’t prepared for you maneuvering yourself a bit higher so his bulbous tip hooked under your clit before sliding back and teasing against your hole.

You paused to press his angry leaking cockhead ever so slightly over your entrance letting him momentarily feel the way your pussy flexed for him, crying more fluids as your cunt tried to suck him in fully, before you pulled away.

You gave him no reprieve as you repeated the seductive movements over and over.

Choso’s mouth parted in a half pout, his bottom lip trembling with furrowed brows and glassy eyes that threatened tears as he gripped the cuffs causing the chains to bend almost snapping in two.

You knew how much you were stressing your poor sweet boyfriend the fuck out. He was a trooper for lasting this long but you knew he couldn’t much longer.

That didn’t mean you weren’t going to enjoy every second of it until that happened.

“You’re doing so well baby girl, gonna let you cum soon, kay?”

Choso blushed hard at you calling him baby girl.

He wanted to hate when you called him that, much preferring your moans of ‘Daddy!’ beneath him since it made him feel like he was the one taking care of you.

Nevertheless, his intense desire to please and obey any request you gave him activated when you so possessively referred to him as your ‘baby girl’. He felt so unworthy of you at times and the fact you even wanted to take care of made him love you so much more, even if he had already made a promise to himself to be the one to take care of you.

“C-cum with me this time Choso, you’ve been so good for me baby girl.”

You praised him again as your own vision became hazy and you pushed past your fatigue as you clung to him. Your bodies so soaked with the cocktail of sweat, oil and fluids has you now digging your nails into his back just to stay on.

Capturing his lips in a kiss and swallowing his moans, you reached down to remove the binding on his cock. Choso had grown even bigger around the ring and you had to give a good tug even with the lubricant from your bodies to get it off of him.

No sooner than finally freeing Choso from the confines of the sillcone cockring did all the tension in him finally explode.

You felt his cock thrash against you, toppling you into your own delicious orgasm as his entire body and its appendages involuntary twitched and quivered. Moaning loudly Choso violently came, spilling the largest thickest load you’ve seen from him yet between your heaving bodies.

After a couple minutes you raised your head to look at him. Choso had snapped the chains of his confines in two, yet the cuffs were still around each of his wrists akin to a bracelet. His large hands covered his face and he struggled to steady his still erratic breathing.

When you see fat tears roll down the corner of his eyes a bit of guilt hits you as you wonder if you pushed him a bit too far this time. Wanting to comfort him with some aftercare you will your exhausted body up to retrieve a warm towel.

However, no sooner had you sat up did Choso’s hand catch your wrist in a vice grip hold stopping you.

You whipped back to see Choso had sat up as well. He still hadn’t fully caught his breath though and a hand was still over his face.

“Awe baby girl. I’ll be right back to cuddle you Cho, ok? Just going to go get us a towel.”

“No.”

The cold empty reply sent chills through you.

You quickly realized he wasn’t clinging to you now for comfort.

You swallowed hard as the hand covering his face slowly descended to reveal the expanded barbed vertical blood lines over his eyes that were piercing into you like a starved animal staring down its next meal.

Shit. Choso was a pretty easy-going guy but you always knew he meant business once he had activated Flowing Red Scale.

Before you could even form the words you felt your back hit the mattress and just as quickly he was on top of you. Gripping the fat of your thighs he slides your ass flush to him as his hands trail up your sore legs to force them back to your ears.

Your eyes rolled back and you choked on a sob when he pushed all 8 thick inches of his dick into you all at once, bottoming out in you with a single thrust despite the tight squeeze. Choso grit his teeth, still hard even after cumming that much didn’t mean he wasn’t still sensitive but he didn’t care as he could only think of fucking into your creamy cunt until you were screaming under him.

Not even giving you a chance to adjust, your breath hitches and falters every time he roughly slammed his hips down on yours. The firm grip on your hips would surely leave marks as he pounded your cunt open wider. Before your mind could even process the shift your ‘baby girl’ had transformed back into ‘daddy’.

And currently your daddy was treating you like his brand new pocket pussy he had yet to break in.

“P-P-Puhleaseeee Daddy w-wait!”

He looked down on you with the same curl lipped expression you gave him earlier as moisture gathered on your lashes.

“You’ll take this dick as it comes, Y/N. S-Say, it. Fuck! Say you’ll take all of it for daddy, hm doll?”

Choso is rabid.

He’s growling down at you now and drooling as he fucks you into a stupor.

You’re babbling incoherent responses before they turn into mere gurgles as your tongue lulls out of your mouth. Seeing the drool leak outside your mouth Choso gives you a dominating opened mouth his sucking on your tongue hard and sending you towards your 4th orgasm of the night. It would not be your last.

Overall, results of his endurance training had been a success. Choso lasted much longer each round.

However, contrary to your original thoughts, this did not decrease the amount of loads he pumped into you, only extended the length of each round to nearly double of the previous times before.

This puts you right back at square one.

In fact you might be in the negative, as in the end all this resulted in was him building up larger loads, fucking his cum into you harder for longer and causing even more to spill out on your sheets as your pulverized cunt can’t possibly keep it all in.

In the morning, Choso pulls your sore and completely exhausted body even closer to him. He takes his time as he peppers your face and neck with kisses while his fingers lightly ghost over your inner thighs, still moist from the remnants of his cum still seeping out.

You’re too tired to do anything but let him touch your body the way he wants to as you fade back into a heavy sleep. You are already back slumbering by the time he lightly coos a request into your ear.

“Let’s do that again tonight babe, okay?”

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: Choso is so bbgyal. 🥹 Love him sm. 💖 reblogs are appreciated 🙏🏽

Edit 1/3 - made some improvements !

Footjobs ft. Suguru is next, it's pretty much done so I'll post it tomorrow. Comment and lmk on the m.list if you want to be tagged.

#emonaculate says #emon's mutuals

2K notes · View notes

emonaculate · 25 days ago

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The puddle between my legs is going crazy rn. You’ve done it again 🙏🏾

Who Is In Control? (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Black!F!Villain!Reader x Hunter!Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: Sung Jinwoo is the highest-ranking hunter and the most powerful human being humanity has ever seen. So is Gojo Satoru. Both cocky, both confident, and both eager for more power, they compete against each other for each gate that seems to get more dangerous the farther and higher they go. They figure your gate won’t be any different and that you will be the usual big baddie that they need to take care of. Another cog in the system. Until they manage to beat you and find out who you truly are behind your facade. Now the hunters are hellbent on keeping you to themselves. So, what’s another friendly competition? Only this time, the prize is you.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), MILD SPOILERS, Anime Crossover, No Curse AU, Elf!Reader, Reincarnation(?), Fighting Sequence, Mild Blood/Injury, Kidnapping, Bondage, Manipulation, Hypnosis, Aphrodisiacs, Dubcon/R*pe, Touch-Starved!Reader, Threesome, Dom!Jinwoo x sub!Reader x Dom!Gojo, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Dacryphilia, Somnophilia, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Degradation + Praise, Breeding Kink, PIV + Anal Sex, Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: This took A LOT longer than I thought it would lol. I hope y'all enjoy this nasty ass chapter though! -Jazz

CHAPTERS: PREFACE. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX.

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FOUR: TOUCH-STARVED.

Staring up at the two hunters looming over you, you have never felt more intimidated than now.

It is a catch twenty-two. You have faced hunters far bigger and scarier than the two that you have met and have unfortunately become accustomed to. Men who were brawnier, beefier, and oozed an aggression that only hunters can have.

You have killed most of these men. You’ve felt their bones break just by using your magic and have spilled their blood with your sword. None have made your gate their territory yet. None of them have been strong enough to weaken you or make you submit to their power…yet.

However, standing between the two hunters–both of them looming over you as their toned bodies press into your front and back, sandwiched between pectorals and big forearms–you have never been more ready to drop to your knees and submit to two people in your life.

Their eyes, both an electric blue simmering with energy and unbridled power, stare down at you, the itty-bitty, shaking, and overstimulated cutie with the pointy ears who was once barking and biting at them moments before.

How did you get here?

Jinwoo takes a hand and gently caresses the back of it down your cheek. You resist the urge to lean your cheek into his touch, his long, piano fingers, calloused from hunting work, exciting you. A slight chuckle leaves his lips, finding humor in the way your body shakes like an autumn leaf ready to fall. “Oh, you poor little thing,” he tuts. “You’re shivering. Are you scared of us?”

You can feel his powers working on you, tugging the truth out of your mouth despite your willpower screaming for you to stop. However, Jinwoo and his ways are just too strong. He could manipulate the moon to switch places with the sun if he saw fit. “Yes,” you confess against your will.

Jinwoo hums in satisfaction while Gojo softly groans, pressing his groin into your backside so you feel the unmistakable outline of his hard cock. “But you’re also aroused, aren’t you?” Jinwoo asks, his voice low and authoritative. “You want us to take you and fuck every single hole you’ve got, don’t you?”

Your body grows hot and tingly at the dirty, forbidden words leaving his mouth, laced in his soothing, deep voice that seems to make your head swim and your nipples tingle. Speaking of tingling, your pussy has seemed to take the brute of that sensation, positively creaming in your panties that have grown sticky and uncomfortable. The mingling scents of the two hunters only make matters worse for you. “Y-Yes,” you weakly stammer.

The chortle that escapes Gojo is low and teasing. The epitome of sexy. “I like you vulgar like this, Jin,” he chuckles. “Or maybe that aphrodisiac kiss is doin’ more to me than I–or she–anticipated.” He runs one of his hands over your arm, grinning when you flinch at his touch. It is as if your skin is being licked with fire. Every little touch seems to burn you.

Jinwoo, who you are very sure can read your mind as well as your body at this point, trails his hand up to cup your jaw. You can only let a tiny, inaudible gasp escape you as his lips ghost across your cheek, his minty breath fanning your face.

Gojo hums in your ear, no doubt teasing you, and you bite your lip to avoid moaning. “Dumb little slut, so desperate to be touched,” he mutters. “Even if that means it’s by the same guys who she was gonna kill just a few moments ago.”

Jinwoo’s hand falls from your cheek, to your dismay, and Gojo’s hand suddenly circles around your shoulder to grip your chin. Not enough to hurt you, but just enough to make you feel the strength in his hand. “Please,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.” Your eyes tick up to stare into Jinwoo’s, those hooded eyes haunting you even as you look up into them now.

“Awww, sweetie,” Gojo coos, his cock throbbing against your ass, “you make it up to us, no problem.” Hope blooms in your chest like a flower. Maybe, just maybe, they will let you serve them in other raves or missions to prove your worth to them. “How?” you ask, your voice breathy and small. It’s so seductive to the two hunters.

A smirk stretches across Gojo’s pink lips tinged with snake bites, the blood continuing to rush to his dick and press into you. “Say, Jinwoo…scratch my old proposition out. I just got another idea for a friendly competition.” The black-haired hunter ticks his hooded, aquamarine eyes from you to his white-haired ‘colleague’. “Well, lay it on me.”

You can practically hear Gojo smiling as his hand snakes down to your neck, gripping your throat. “Whoever can make this cute little whore cum first…” His grip tightens, making you gasp and causing both of the hunters to snigger. “Wins.”

Suddenly, your stomach dips like you’re at the top of a roller coaster about to go down the hill once Gojo’s new proposition hits your pointed ears. “Wins what?” you whisper, your eyes growing wide and soft with fear. They couldn’t possibly…

The snow-haired hunter twists you around to face him for once, and the smile on his face scares you more than any monster or God ever could. It is a smile riddled with deviance, wickedness, and a promise of something that you may not like. And he doesn’t care.

“You.”

You blink at Gojo, thinking you heard this wrong. But his smile stays plastered on his face, giving you the impression that he means exactly what he says. “W-What?!” you softly gasp. “No, I can’t–”

“Yes, the fuck you can,” Gojo growls, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. “You’d be the prettiest trophy ever.” You melt from his blatantly flirty compliment, your bones turning to mush.

Jinwoo concurs, taking a handful of your ass as he tears off the armor covering it. “After the shit you put us through, you should be grateful that we’re even considering this,” he hisses in your ear. “Stop actin’ like you don’t want this.” His other big hand that isn’t gripping your ass takes your chin into his hand, tilting your face up to reach your lips. Despite how slowly he moves, Jinwoo’s kiss still shocks you to your core and takes you by surprise like a slinking snake pouncing from a brush.

His lips are pillowy-soft and surprisingly warm despite how cool he comes off. His hands are secure as they hold your chin and ass yet possessive, definitely giving Gojo a message as he stands behind you, watching the scene unfold. You softly moan against Jinwoo’s mouth, causing him to moan in response, his tongue lightly licking your bottom lip. ‘Open,’ he commands with the small act. You oblige, slowly prying your lips apart.

Jinwoo pulls away to smirk, moving both hands to cup your ass now. “Mmm, good girl,” he hums. Those two words ignite a fire inside of you that you thought was long snuffed out. As his tongue caresses yours and swoops you up in a lewd tango, you realize that he and Gojo are both giving you something that you thought was long gone: feeling.

It is in the way Jinwoo’s touch makes your body tingle all over. It is in the way Gojo gently kisses down your neck and behind your pointed right ear, his lips soft and supple, as he strips you of the rest of your armor. “You do want this, baby,” he coos. “It’s okay to give in to me.” His lips travel up to your ear where he gently kisses the tip, smiling when you twitch in response.

Your armor continues to fall from your body until you are down to your thin vest and pants. Those come off too, leaving you in your bra and panties. You shiver as Gojo’s fingers toy with your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“And to me,” Jinwoo whispers, pulling away from your mouth. His lips are slightly wet and pinker from the kissing, leaving you both panting and hot with want.

He follows Gojo’s actions by giving your left ear some love as well, but he takes it a step further and gently sucks on your ear, bringing the pointed tip between his soft lips. You gasp, a natural reaction to the stimulation you’re feeling from your ears. They are a bundle of nerves, just as sensitive as the needy button currently throbbing and twitching in your panties.

Jinwoo chuckles, dragging his teeth along your ear. “Someone’s sensitive.” As if to prove his point, he takes the tip of your ear between his lips and gently sucks on it. Gojo does the same, moaning lewdly as he begins to gently suck on your ear, making your body grow hot and bothered. It throbs all over, desperate to be released from its bottle. “Ah,” you exhale, your eyes fluttering closed. “P-Please…fuck!”

Jinwoo tsks, pulling himself away to give you a dark yet lustful look. “What a dirty little mouth,” he criticizes, toying with your bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ll have to fix that.” To your pleasant surprise, he strips himself of his hoodie in front of you, tearing off his shirt in the same breath and pulling it over his head.

He tosses them both aside and stands before you completely topless. You don’t complain about any of it. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. Your mouth is completely dry and fuzzy as if you just swallowed cotton balls. You can do nothing but drag your greedy eyes over Jinwoo’s impressively toned physique. His washboard abs. His smooth V-line trailing down to the promiseland. His squeezable pectorales. His broad shoulders and toned forearms from years of hunting and powering up.

He is truly a walking wet dream. You can only imagine how Gojo looks as he drags his big hands over your hips, still toying with your ears and neck. Unable to stop yourself or resist, you reach out to touch Jinwoo’s arm, but he grabs it, firmly holding it as his eyes glare daggers into yours.

“Wait,” he protests, firm and authoritative. “Who said that you could touch me?” You feel your body grow hot with arousal and excitement despite the man glowering at you. “No one,” you softly reply.

“That’s right…so why are you doin’ it? Who the hell do you think I am?” Jinwoo squints at you, his eyes flashing blue as they turn into sharp slits that nearly cut you open…and also make you wetter than you have ever been. He comes closer to you, his pecs at eye level with your forehead. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he hisses.

You can’t find the words to speak. Or the air to breathe. It is all trapped in your chest as Jinwoo firmly holds your chin. The more he stares you down, the more you feel like you can’t breathe. “Let me remind you of your place: right now, you are answering to me. I control you. I tell you what to do, what to say, and how to move. You please me, and if I feel that you've done a good job, I please you.”

He raises both brows, expecting an answer. And it’d better not be the wrong one. “Am I understood?” You swallow hard, somehow finding the words to speak: “Yes, Sir,” you automatically reply. Jinwoo’s eyes flare with a strange fire at the utterance of that three-lettered word. He hums thoughtfully to himself, stroking your chin with his thumb. “Hm…Sir. I like that.”

Then with his free hand, he moves it down to his sweatpants. You watch with bated breath, tingly, hard nipples, and a leaking, aching pussy as he pulls on one of the strings holding his pants up. Instantly, his sweats fall, revealing his boxers underneath. He pulls those down too and finally reveals what you have been craving to see: his long cock pops out from beneath his underwear like a Jack-In-The-Box, curving upward and dripping with pre-cum at the head. He is all smooth skin with only his black pubic hairs neatly trimmed and his balls hanging heavy with spunk.

You feel yourself salivate at the sight, especially when you see the vein pulsing from the base to his tip, ready to be licked. Gently, Jinwoo presses down onto your shoulder and you follow, easing down to your knees between him and Gojo. Your eyes stay firm on Jinwoo’s bobbing cock swinging before you like a pendulum.

He wraps one of his big hands around it the way he would your throat and begins to stroke it up and down right in your face. “Don’t touch it. Just look at it.” You feel a whimper bubble at your throat watching him jack off, his tip just inches from your lips. You could stick your tongue out and lick it up, but you don’t. You don’t want to disappoint him.

The idea of it scares you a bit. You barely know this man and you’re ready to do everything he asks of you! What has happened to you?

Gojo watches from behind you. You can feel his presence behind you, his arousal radiating off of him in hot waves. “Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” he pants. “Don’t be a greedy asshole, Jin. If you’re not usin’ her mouth, I will.”

You hear fabric rustling behind you and turn away from Jinwoo’s beautiful cock to give your attention to Gojo now. The blue-eyed man has begun to strip himself of all of his clothes, wasting no time getting naked. Every sliver of skin that is exposed is like a shot of rum to you: strong, intense, and addictive. Gojo is just as hot as Jinwoo, all hard muscles and smooth, tanned skin.

And his cock. His thick, throbbing, girthy cock. He is not as long as Jinwoo and has all smooth skin from his V-line down to his balls, but he is just as drool-worthy. You can’t believe your eyes nor your luck. Two big cocks for one girl? What ever did you do to deserve this?

Gojo smirks as he saunters up to you, his cock bobbing between his muscular thighs. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll be gentle.” He wraps a hand around himself and taps it lightly against your lips, softly moaning at the contact. You slowly open your mouth, allowing him to slide inside. He takes that chance and places a hand on your scalp before pushing in deeper until his head nearly brushes the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he exhales, the sound leaving his lips as his cock sinks between your soft lips and enters your tight, wet throat. You nearly gag from the back of your throat being probed and bothered by such a foreign object, but Gojo’s thrusts are shallow enough to allow you to breathe through your nose as he proceeds to fuck your face. Your eyes tick up to meet his, those ocean blue portals hypnotizing you, keeping your focus. “Oh, now that’s a sight,” he laughs, grinning down at you. “How do I taste, slutty girl?”

You can’t answer but if you could, you would say ‘so good’. Because he does. You love the taste of Gojo’s warm foreskin. The smell of his cologne and body wash wafting off of him. The sight of his abs in your face. You are starting to enjoy blowing him despite the ache in your knees and your jaw from being stretched wide. You decide that it is all worth it when he begins stroking your ears as he fucks your mouth, causing your pussy to leak even more from the stimulation.

With a groan, Gojo pulls his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to suck in a breath. “Gotta lick it clean, babe.” He begins to bob his cock, coated in your spit and his pre, in your face hands free. You are damn near enchanted by the sight as if you are a cat and his cock is a toy mouse on a string. Sloppily, you begin to lick him clean from base to tip, slurping up the spit into your mouth, letting it drip down your chin to your tits.

“You missed a spot,” he purrs before pushing your head down to suck him clean. “Swallow it all.” He pushes forward, prying your lips open with his cock, and proceeds to fuck your mouth once more, taking slow drags of his cock against your tongue. Gojo tosses his head back, showing the column of his throat, his Adam’s Apple bobbing furiously as he swallows hard, almost as if he can’t take the pleasure.

Suddenly, you feel something poke at your cheek and your eyes flick to the side to see Jinwoo’s cock. “Don’t be selfish,” he growls at Gojo. “I haven’t had my turn yet.” The white-haired hunter smirks at him. “Is that so?” he chuckles. “Then you’d better take her now before I make the decision for you.”

When Gojo’s cock exits your mouth, Jinwoo’s replaces his, sliding between your lips and curving up to tickle your throat. A groan leaves his lips as he begins to fuck your mouth, sliding his wet cock in and out, in and out of your mouth as if it were your pussy. His hand curls around your hair and pushes you deeper onto his cock, causing your throat to emit a wet, gagging sound that makes his dick twitch.

With your mouth occupied, you use one of your hands to stroke Gojo’s cock up and down, relishing the soft groans and lewd grunts of pleasure at the feeling of your soft palm wrapped around him. As the world rages outside (both worlds as far as you’re concerned), you find your heaven here between these two men and their hard, hot, throbbing cocks.

“My turn,” Gojo grunts, practically ripping you away from Jinwoo. The Shadow Monarch glares daggers pointed to a tip at the white-haired hunter as he slides into your mouth again and forces you to swallow him whole. Your lips and chin drip with saliva and pre-cum, dribbling down to your tits, soaking them in your own mess.

Gojo is generous despite the face-fucking, holding your hair back for you, while Jinwoo keeps his hand on the side of your face, cupping your cheek as he fucks your hand at a more rapid pace than Gojo did. You feel used, every limb of your body serving to please the hard cocks in front of you. And yet you have never felt better.

You begin to alternate between Gojo and Jinwoo, sucking on one while you stroke to the other. The two men watch you with interest and lust-drunk expressions, loving how dazed your eyes are and how sticky your face has become from the spit, sweat, and pre-cum drenching it. As time passes by in seconds and hours all at the same time, you begin to grow more comfortable and confident. And as that comfort and confidence blooms, so does your sluttiness.

You wrap a hand around each cock on either side of you and alternate between the two, licking, sucking, slurping, and tasting each one. Your eyes begin to sting with tears the more you force your throat to take each cock, bobbing and sucking like there is no tomorrow. The hunters no longer were thinking about each other or their stupid rivalry. All they have in their minds is how well you take their cocks and how well your body will look bouncing from the way they fuck you.

After what feels like hours, you pull away from Gojo’s cock to take a breath and rest your jaw. A string of spit follows you, connecting your bottom lip to Gojo’s pink tip. Your mouth tastes of their cum, your taste buds exploding with it. From below, your pussy throbs with need, turning into a full faucet in your panties. “Mmm,” you softly hum as if you just consumed something delicious.

Gojo gently pats you on the head, smiling adoringly at you. “Nicely done, baby. You took all of my cock like you owned it.” You feel your body tingle with happiness at the head pats, making you feel so much like a pet…which you aren’t knocking either.

“I know another place she could use that,” Jinwoo replies, a slight chuckle in his voice. He stares you down, a dark look laced with lust in his eyes. “But not just yet. I think she still needs some more persuasion.”

As fast as lightning, so fast that the Hunter blips from his spot standing next to Gojo, Jinwoo uses his unfathomable super speed to pick you up and place you down onto your back. You squeak in surprise, not expecting it, but your squeak quickly turns into a moan when you feel Jinwoo’s soft lips on your sodden panties. “Oh,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut as sparks of electric pleasure shoot through you.

Jinwoo’s powerful hands keep your thighs pried apart as he drags his tongue down and up your slit still covered by the thin fabric of your panties. He then turns, peppering your right inner thigh in wet kisses. “You want me to take them off?” he purrs into your skin. You frantically nod, biting your lip. “No,” he says, firm. “Tell me what you want.”

Finding your voice despite the explosive pleasure you’re feeling, you sob, “Yes, Sir, please! Take them off and eat my pussy! I need it so bad!” Jinwoo smiles against your skin, gently sucking on your inner thigh before moving to take off the thin, tiny, wet panties and put his mouth on your sobbing, sticky, wet–

Woosh! You gasp as you feel the cool air hit the puffy, wet lips of your pussy. Suddenly, Gojo is kneeling right next to Jinwoo who is seething with rage at the sight of your pink panties in the white-haired hunter’s grasp. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jinwoo growls.

“About to eat this pretty pussy here.” The man has the nerve to grin at Jinwoo before he takes a lick of the slick in your panties and leans down to lap at your cunt. Your eyes grow wide from the intensity, especially when his tongue begins to venture into you. He takes your ass into his hands, gripping the two cheeks and prying them apart as if that will allow his tongue to sink deeper inside of your hole. “O-Oh, my God!” you gasp, grasping Gojo’s hair for dear life. “Fuck, Satoru, yes! Go deeper!”

Gojo’s stark blue eyes stare intently at your face. You can feel them even as you close your eyes, unable to keep them open due to the blinding pleasure. It feels red hot and pulses, making your entire body and the veins inside of you throb. Gojo eats you out like you are his last meal, spitting on your pussy and slurping it back up, sucking on your clit in the process. Very much ‘Mr. Nasty’.

In your haze of pleasure, something suddenly tingles on your nipples, making them feel extra stimulated and groped and causing you to open your eyes. Two wisps of shadows swirl your hard peaks around and around, all emanating from Jinwoo’s long fingers. He smirks at your reaction, growing harder at the sight of your glassy, brown eyes and open mouth.

“So responsive,” he chuckles, flashing you his canines. “Very needy. You’re not so bad like this.” The black-haired hunter then elbows Gojo out of the way of your cunt, creating a shadowy wall blocking Gojo off from getting between your thighs again.

“My turn,” Jinwoo growls, and then he is diving into the wetness of your cunt. The white-haired hunter scowls at him, watching in jealousy and irritation as your pussy gets eaten by another man. Despite that, Gojo’s cock also twitches and throbs at the sight before him, so he can’t be THAT angry.

Let it be known that Jinwoo Sung is a munch. You had a feeling that Gojo was due to his energetic and laid-back personality, but Jinwoo? He completely surprises you with the way he laps at your clit and sucks on your pussy lips, taking complete control over you with his tongue and soft lips. “Ah, fuck!” you shout to the marble ceiling above you. “Fuck yes!” Your back arches to the ceiling, your entire body contorting from the immense pleasure.

Aware of you being watched, you look over to find Gojo lazily stroking his hard cock to the sight of you, his pink, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. You reach for him, your arousal thinking for you. He sidles up to you immediately, letting you cup his cheek. “What’s up, baby?” he asks. “What do you need?”

Jinwoo’s tongue persuades you to be as honest as possible, serving as your truth serum the more he laps and licks at the sensitive button of your clit. “B-Both of you!” you sob out. “Please! I need you both!” Instantly, Jinwoo pauses and shoots Gojo a questionable look. Gojo shrugs, down for anything. “So we share?” he suggests. “I’m not usually the one to share anything, but I kinda like the idea of this cutie handlin’ two at once.”

The two then proceed to eat your pussy at the same time. You take two skillful tongues. Two pillowy-soft, plush lips. Two hot mouths panting and moaning from your taste, causing vibrations to skate throughout your pussy and your core while Jinwoo’s shadows continue to stimulate your tits. You feel incredible. You feel like you could conquer the world and any Gate in existence. Your mind becomes blank, the pleasure creating a white canvas where all you can feel is ecstasy.

It doesn’t take long for your arousal to grow and with it, your desperation. You grip Jinwoo and Gojo’s hair, pressing the two closer to your cunt. “Please!” you sob. “Please fuck me! I c-can’t take anymore!”

You don’t make it clear exactly who you want to be fucked by, but the two hunters don’t ask either. They look at each other, both silently asking the other if they should fight it out. Gojo then breaks into a wide smirk. “I’ll let ya have her this one time,” he offers. “But next time, I’m fucking her. No exceptions.”

Jinwoo is more than happy to agree with that. Once again, at the speed of light, he wraps his arms around your waist and flips you around so you are straddling his lap. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but Jinwoo presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Hush, pretty girl. Just relax for me. I’m only gonna sit you on top of me, like this.”

He settles you on top of his thighs, his cock wedged between your thighs, sliding against your pussy. It shocks something inside of you, making you jerk towards him. He grips your waist, keeping you steady, and stares straight into your eyes. It is like he can see right into your soul.

“Tap me on the shoulder if it’s too much,” he whispers. “Understand me?”

You swallow hard as the anticipation for what is coming next thickens. Finally, you’re about to be filled and fucked out of your mind. All of those nights of loneliness and yearning will all disperse right here. “Yes, S-Sir,” you stammer.

That is all Jinwoo needs to hear. He coaxes you to ease up onto your knees and lines his cock up with your pussy. “Hands here,” he murmurs, putting your palms on his broad shoulders. “Come down when you’re ready.” With your lip caught between your teeth, you brace yourself on Jinwoo’s shoulders and slowly, sloooooowly, bring yourself down to take his cock.

You take his tip first. Then inch after inch, you take more and more of him, strangled moans and whimpers leaving your mouth as you feel him stretch out your velvety, wet walls. Jinwoo groans as your cunt wraps tight around him, clutching your hips to keep you on top of him, your body pressed flush with his. The pleasure is red hot and blinding like lava just spilled all over you. Your body feels like it is aflame, your pussy stretching around the cock inside of you, the tip curving to meet your G-spot and your internal clit. Jinwoo is a perfect fit.

After some time of slow grinding and pauses to become adjusted, you begin to slowly bounce up and down on Jinwoo’s cock, pulling yourself up and then pushing yourself down, making his cock slick with your juices, his balls dripping with your honey. “F-Fuck,” he stutters, watching through dark slits at the way his cock disappears inside of you. Not to mention the way your brown skin glows and how your tits bounce delightfully. You are truly something to behold.

You think the same thing about Jinwoo with his handsome, flushed face, lips blush red from kissing, and his muscle tense with pleasure the more you sink your pussy down onto him. Your bouncing becomes a bit faster as you find your rhythm, causing the wet, rhythmic sound of plap-plap-plap to emanate from your ass meeting his thighs.

Gojo watches from behind you, stroking his cock and tugging just lightly at his balls, watching with interest as your ass bounces so enticingly. “Y’know, usually I don’t like people touchin’ what’s mine…but goddamn, you look good takin’ his cock, cutie.” His eyes are drawn to the way your pretty cunt stretches around Jinwoo’s cock, your walls making it slick and shiny with your arousal.

You press yourself to Jinwoo’s chest, your lips suckling his ear. He does the same to you, latching his lips around the pointed tip of your ear. “Does it feel good?” Jinwoo asks. “Is it everything you wanted?” It is more than everything. It is the entire world and the dimensions beyond the more you take his cock. “Yes, sir!” you shout. “Y-You feel so good! So fucking good!”

“Now why does he get a sexy name and I don’t?” Gojo asks, pouting at you. “I don’t think I like that. You need to respect me too, little girl.”

SPANK!

You almost howl as his hand comes down onto your asscheek, making it sting, the sound ricocheting off of the castle walls. “H-Ha…I-I’m sorry, Daddy!” you squeak out. Gojo feels his cock twitch at the name, a blush coating his cheeks. “Hm…Daddy. Fits me, don’tcha think, Jin?”

Jinwoo rolls his eyes, possessively squeezing your ass as you continue bouncing like a little bunny on his dick. “Just shut up and fuck her before I get one of my shadows to do it.”

Gojo’s eyes widen a bit, shocked yet interested. “You’re a kinky motherfucker when you wanna be.” He then stands up next to you, his cock hanging in your face, and taps himself against your lips, causing your lips to become sticky with pre. “Open up, cutie.”

You do so, your lips quivering, and Gojo doesn’t hesitate to sink his thick, throbbing cock between them to fuck your wet mouth. “Thaaat’s it,” he hisses in pleasure. “Give me that mouth.” As he begins to rock his hips, Jinwoo thrusts his hips up to push and pull his cock in and out of your pussy, dragging wanton moans out of you that are muffled by Gojo’s dick.

The only sounds within the vicinity of the castle are your shared moans, gasps, and breathless swears mixed with the slapping of skin against skin and the slick, wet, squishing sounds of Jinwoo and Gojo’s cocks in your holes. You are in pure ecstasy, swimming in a sea of endless pleasure that the two hunters continue to drag you into and under, again and again.

Jinwoo squeezes you close to him, pressing his face into your bouncing tits. “Fuck,” he moans into your chest. “Fuck!” The deeper his cock plunges into your pussy, the more feral and desperate he comes. Gojo is the same, fucking your mouth in time with Jinwoo’s rapid thrusts.

“Such a…ha, fuck…good little slut,” he grunts. “Lettin’ us use you like this…oh, fuck, babe.”

Jinwoo locks eyes with you as you swallow Gojo’s cock, saliva dripping down your chin. “Tell me how I feel inside you,” he demands, his voice echoing inside of your head. His eyes flash an electric blue, taking you to a place where all you can think of is blankness. You are aware he has hypnotized you again, but it feels too good to fight.

You mumble around Gojo’s cock what Jinwoo wants to hear, your lewd words muffled by the dick stuck in your throat. The white-haired hunter laughs, slipping his cock out of your sloppy mouth. “My bad,” he chuckles. “Tell him what he wants to hear, baby.”

With Jinwoo’s cock still massaging your insides, it is hard to speak a clear and coherent sentence, but you try your best. “A-A-Ah, s-so good!” you gasp, grasping Jinwoo’s shoulders, grinding your hips forward to rub your clit against his stomach. “So fucking good! Please more!”

Jinwoo raises his brows, surprised at your request. “More?” he parrots, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “Then you’d better fuck me back. Use me like you need to, sweetheart.” He grabs your hips and begins to propel you down onto his cock again and again and again. You turn your head to face Gojo, opening your mouth to allow him back between your lips again.

Using all of your energy, you fuck both cocks at the same time, bouncing on one while you deepthroat the other, each lewd, dirty sound bringing you closer to the edge. Gojo wraps a hand around your hair, his entire face flushed pink and glistening in sweat as he watches you throat his cock. “Need to fuckin’ have you,” he groans. “Need to fuckin’ keep you.” He clutches your hair so tight that his knuckles turn white, desperate to keep you bobbing on his veiny dick.

You can only manage out loud, wanton, muffled moans of “ah, ah, ah” as Jinwoo fucks up into you rough and deep. He makes you take his cock in your greedy pussy that slips and slides all over his shaft, your bouncing ass stimulating his sensitive balls below you. “S-So good,” he stutters, gritting his teeth. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Y/N.”

His name on your lips is like a drug, sweet and addictive. It pushes you forward towards that cliff, the sun glinting off of the sea of bliss and warming your face. Gojo’s moans stimulate you too, growing louder and more desperate the more he fucks your throat, his balls swinging against your chin.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your walls clench around Jinwoo, causing him to grunt. “You gonna cum for me?” he asks. “I can feel you tightenin’ up. You’re gonna cum for me now, aren’t you?”

He is in the front seat at this point, controlling every part of you, including your willpower. You are fairly sure that he is forcing you to cum even though you are close anyway, though he is making it more intense and faster than usual. “Uh-huh!” you whine around Gojo’s dick.

“Uh-huh?” he repeats. “Then fuckin’ do it. Cum for me now.”

“No, no,” Gojo protests. “Cum for us, cutie. Make yourself feel good on Jin’s cock and let go.”

And you do. You have no choice in the matter anymore. It is as if your body belongs to them now, moving and breathing only for them. Your pussy quivers and trembles around Jinwoo’s cock as his thrusts grow more unrelenting and merciful, pushing you off of that cliff and propelling you into that ocean of ecstasy. With an extended, desperate, needy moan that sends vibrations into Gojo’s balls, you cum uncontrollably around Jinwoo’s dick, stroking every ounce of cum out of him.

Your tiny body shakes and shudders like an autumn leaf against the hunter’s body, your lips clamping tight around Gojo’s cock in the process as you cum and cum and cum. It is intense and blinding. Your mind goes completely blank and it feels like you are flying, all of the ground disappearing from underneath you.

Your orgasm seems to trigger Jinwoo because his thrusts become erratic and desperate, moving faster and harder, bouncing you faster on top of him as he drives his cock into you again and again. “Oh, God!” he groans. “M’gonna cum!”

“M-Me too,” Gojo gasps, taking your face into both of his hands as he fucks your mouth faster, making your throat squelch and gag. “Take it all, baby. All of this is for you. It’s what you need, right?”

‘Yes,’ you think, and you know that both hunters can hear it with their powers because they keep going. Keep thrusting. Keep pushing until they explode.

The Shadow Monarch clutches you to his body as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t and suddenly, you feel a warm stream of his cum explode inside of you. You gasp at the feeling along with the tightness of Jinwoo’s hold on you and the power in his two arms, being forced to take all of his spunk deep inside of your pussy. His body tenses and he lets out a loud, guttural, deep moan from deep within himself as he spills his nut, giving his hips tiny pulses to push his cum deeper and deeper inside of you, giving you the intention that he is trying to knock you up.

You can’t focus on it for too long because Gojo is fucking your mouth off of its hinges until he too tenses up. With moan fit for a porno and a sexy exhale of release, his hips stutter and he fills your mouth up with his cum, giving you ropes and ropes of spunk that envelope your tongue in his taste and flood your throat. He pulls his cock out of you and finishes off on your tits, pumping droplets of cum onto your pretty nipples.

Your lashes flutter tiredly, heavy pants leaving your lips. You feel used and sore yet better than you have felt in so long. Jinwoo presses a kiss to your lips, licking a line across your bottom lip with his tongue. “That’s my girl,” he sighs.

Stupidly, you smile at the praise. Gojo presses his pink tip back into your mouth again, letting you suck his cum off of it. “Correction: our girl.” He ignores Jinwoo’s glare as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, leaving a string of spit and pre-cum coating his tip and your bottom lip. “But now we made such a mess! Can’t have a messy girl, now can we?”

As if understanding, Jinwoo gently coaxes you to lift your hips, causing his cock to slip out of you. You weakly moan from the loss, your pussy feeling tender and sensitive, and cum dripping down your thighs. Gently, the black-haired hunter takes you by your hips and lifts you off of him to lie you down on your back on top of your rumbled clothes.

Gojo is suddenly in front of you between your legs, his handsome face flushed and his snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. “Don’t worry, cutie. You don’t have to lift nothin’ for this part.” He gives you a smirk before he places your legs over his shoulders and dives down between them to lap at your pussy soaked in your and Jinwoo’s cum.

Every lick is like agony and bliss mixed into one confusing cocktail. You want more but you also want less. “A-Ah,” you weakly gasp, clenching Gojo’s hair. “‘T-Tarou…h-ha, can’t…oh, fuck!” Your voice is strained and broken, the pleasure having fucked up your voice box. Jinwoo watches on, wrapping a hand around his cock that has begun to harden again. His muscular thighs are open wide, giving you the perfect view of his shaft and balls.

Suddenly, Gojo pulls his mouth off of you and replaces it with his semi-hard cock on your pussy. The more he does so, the harder he gets until he is stiff again, the blood rushing to his tip. As soon as the tip brushes your clit, you jump and twitch as if stuck by a hot rod. “W-What are you–”

“Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger to your lips. “Just relax, baby. I told you that all you need to do is relax, didn’t I?” He begins to rut his cock against the sensitive, quivering, tender lips of your pussy, his tip nudging your clit. You whimper at the agonizing feeling, your thighs clenching around his waist. “W-Wait…oh!”

Your voice is stolen from you as Gojo suddenly pushes himself inside, emitting a choked moan from the both of you. Slowly, he begins to rock his hips, drawing his cock in and out of you, massaging your walls that already feel like they are about to crumble. You sob at each thrust, fat, wet tears pushing past your eyes and dripping from your eye sockets. “‘Tarou, wait!” you whine. “I-It’s too much! I can’t…oh, I can’t!”

You press your hands to Gojo’s chest, trying in vain to stop him, but he keeps going, his breath labored and his eyes feral with lust. “Yes, you fuckin’ can and you will,” he growls. “You’ve still got some work to do after all. I didn’t get to fuck you yet.”

You feel a soft hand turn your head to the side and suddenly, you are facing Jinwoo. “You can do it, sweetheart,” he coos, gently rubbing his cock against your soft cheek. “You’re a natural at this. The gate has yet to open anyways.” He presses his cock to your lips and pushes inside, forcing you to take him.

“So we have all the time in the world,” he chuckles.

You didn’t think it was possible to be fucked until you pass out, but stuck with the two hunters and most powerful men in the world, you learn a couple of things that afternoon.

**********

Taglist: @leviackerman2030 @emonaculate @lnette04

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