Archive of Our Own

Gojo Satoru’s moans reverberated through the air broken by little breathy cries and sobs, an all too familiar scene playing out on your phone. The darling center of an idol group with his ass up and legs spread, hands tied behind his back as a man made him count, pussy puffy and an inflamed red, his slick almost white with how worked up he’d become.

How disgusting, an affront to everything he claimed to be when speaking into a microphone.

Another smack.

“Twelve!” Gojo cried out, tears shining in his blue eyes.

And yet you couldn’t stop watching, unzipping your own pants and stuffing a hand under the waistband of your boxers, pre already wetting your tip, stroking yourself to each slap, Gojo’s pathetic whines turning into full on cries till he reached twenty, whittled down to nothing but some common whore.

It wasn’t until the man took the camera into his own hands, panning down to show exactly the mess he’d made of him that you reached the edge, cumming hard in your pants, the screen in front of you showing the mess of Gojo Satoru’s pussy, the man spreading it with his fingers before spitting right into it, another sob shaking Gojo as he did so.

And yet the video wasn’t done even as you panted for breath. You'd been enchanted the moment you’d seen Gojo Satoru years ago, eyes an innocent blue and white hair a shining halo around his head.

An angel, that’s how you would have described him all those years ago. Innocent and pure, a higher being walking the earth and shining through the filth.

But the continued pleas coming through your speakers said otherwise, his ex, who looked homeless if you were to guess, pounding into him at a brutal pace all while Gojo whined and pleaded for more, tears trickling down his now splotchy face.

And he still looked otherworldly when it should be degrading, when he should be worth less than trash with the way he was pleading for more and the way his stomach distended with every thrust. When you had proof of him being used over and over again by his entourage of exes.

The tears only added sparkle to his eyes, sweat only covered his body in a glittering dew, his stark nakedness only revealing every toned muscle from long dance practices. Gojo was more a sculpture of a god than a human made of flesh and bone.

Yet for all his fame, wealth, and status, you still found each and every tape leaked online by various exes, searching the most hidden corners of shady websites and downloading them before reporting the user.

Only you were allowed to see those tapes, to collect the scenes of mere men bringing Gojo down to his knees, molding him into something pathetic and malleable, a collection only you would ever have, a flashdrive full of them dangling from the chain you wore around your neck.

Oh to have him on his knees, looking up at you with tears in his eyes and blush on his cheeks, to know the feeling of bending a god to your will…

It wasn’t an impossibility. Not really, when you thought of it.

Just a one in a thousand chance, one you could take if you were simply there for it.

Trailing Gojo wasn’t as hard as it was made out to be, his work place no secret and Dispatch always shadowing him anyway. He was… predictable in some unorganized way. Would leave his apartment and jog down the stairs in the morning, so unaware you’d paid off his favorite bakery to allow you to personally bring him his regular order in the morning under that fake name he used.

And then work, eight to twelve hours in that talent agency building if he wasn’t shooting for something, followed by him emerging with a mask, sunglasses, a hat, and baggy clothes. But that didn’t matter. Not when you could tell him apart in a crowd just by his hands or the bridge of his nose, from his gait, from how he’d hold himself when just standing.

And after work? Either he’d go out to town by himself or bring along his juniors, your blood boiling when you thought of his bandmates, even worse than his juniors who’d leech off him, but at least make him smile by indulging him.

If you could, you’d murder each one in his group, all of them ignoring him, making him frown sometimes when walking out of work no matter how they’d pretend to be friends on stage and at signing events.

A signing event you were at now, standing in line as you looked down at your phone, the screen brightness lowered to minimum so the hungry gazes around you would never see what you were looking at.

Most of those around you were women and girls, fawning over his looks and squealing whenever he smiled at them, all bumbling idiots thinking they’d have a chance with him. Oh how disappointed they’d be if they knew what he was really like, the photo on your phone saying it all, this one a recent leak from one of his exes, some business man you’d had to watch meet him out behind his talent agency’s building.

Or maybe you should thank him, the picture of Gojo sprawled across sheets on your phone, his entire body flushed and covered in hickeys. You looked up and over the heads of other fans in line, Gojo wearing a turtleneck despite the heat, so often teased for being so modest, yet only you and a select few knew the truth, that he was nothing but a slut letting himself be branded by the lips of others.

And all too soon it was your turn, Gojo flashing you with a blinding smile and your heart skipping a beat, the Gojo before you almost innocent despite the picture you still had pulled up on your phone, his eyes dazed from sex and body flushed a pink save for where cum pooled in puddles across his skin.

You closed the app, swiping the picture away as you walked forward.

“I’m so glad to meet you!” You said, giving him a smile, words nothing but a lie. You saw him every time he left his apartment, every time he left the company building, every time he thought he was alone.

“You’ve had such an impact on my life,” you continued as you slid a photocard for him to sign. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to meet you.”

You’d come to every fan sign, every concert, every interview with an audience, but he didn’t know. Not when he only saw you as a faceless audience, not when he had no idea who you really were, too concerned with fucking other men who’d never treat him right. Who’d only treat him like the thing he became when his eyes glazed over with lust.

“May I take a picture with you?” you asked, showing him your phone.

“Anything for a fan!” Gojo replied, huge goofy smile coming over his face as he took it from you, thumbing over to the camera function and so close to your gallery, just one mistaken tap away from seeing every photo of him, every video of him being defiled. Of him being nothing more than a common whore.

Gojo kept smiling as he held up your phone, beckoning you to come in closer so he could get both of you in the photo, throwing up his signature peace sign as he took the picture.

He clicked on the thumbnail of the picture he took, taking him immediately to your gallery, and your breath hitching.

One swipe.

Just one swipe and his own video would start, his slutty moans sure to reverberate through the crowd with the way your volume was set to maximum.

“Be sure to post it. I wanna remember you!” he said, sending you a wink, a clear message to move onto the next group member.

Your heart beat out of your chest even as you nodded. You’d never stop replaying his wink in his mind, so close to his real side. If you could catch him after, if he’d give you just a minute in private, would he continue with his flirtations? Follow you home because he missed being made into a mess? Would he let just some fan lay him out, reduce him to nothing but a common whore?

But it wasn’t your chance. Not yet.

You pasted on a smile as you handed a photocard you’d gotten while trying to collect Gojo’s for another member to sign. You could play nice with the other members if you needed to. After all, it would only be a matter of time till Gojo would make a mistake, until he’d be yours.

You just didn’t know it would only be a few weeks later, Gojo walking into a dim bar by himself.

You couldn’t believe it, Gojo was more down than usual, but you knew through interviews what a lightweight he was. How he’d never take so much as a sip of alcohol especially when alone.

And yet it was your one in a thousand, following after him.

The bar was dimly lit, Gojo already taking a seat on one of the barstools and ordering something. At least he was getting started on his own.

But it was still too soon since the fansign for you to be completely sure in your anonymity, sitting on the other end of the bar instead and waiting for the bartender to come to you, Gojo already through his first drink by the time they got to you.

“I’ll pay for his drinks,” you said, nodding toward Gojo and flashing the bartender your ID. “Whatever he wants.”

Gojo didn’t need it, more money than he knew what to do with carrying him through life. First a rich family, now a successful idol career. And you? Barely a cent to your name, your parents sending you money in hopes you’d finally find something in life to love and work for. And you had.

You adored Gojo, tailed him better than those failures of idol gossip magazines. Probably funded a chunk of his career with how you bought every piece of merchandise released that had any connection to him, binders full of photocards, your walls covered with posters and prints of him.

He was your entire world.

The bartender nodded, walking over to Gojo and whispering, Gojo all too quickly turning your direction as he gulped his second drink down and giving you a dopey smile, beckoning you to come closer.

You hoped it would be dark enough to better hide your face, as if he’d ever remember you.

“You look familiar…” he mused, pulling down his sunglasses and scanning your figure. It wouldn’t be long till the alcohol hit him. That is, if he hadn’t lied in that interview the way he did with everything else. How could you ever trust him in those, even if he’d promised about being a lightweight. “Have I seen you before?”

Only when you allowed him to. Gojo had been so blissfully unaware of your presence, even if sometimes he kept glancing around as if he felt you watching but just couldn’t quite find you.

“No,” you lied. “Just thought you were cute.”

Gojo pouted, of all things, even as he ordered another drink off your tab. “Cute’s never enough…”

You waited. He’d say what is on his mind when given a little space, Gojo was able to yammer on and on if allowed. Sometimes even if he wasn’t. But it was okay. You never minded, his voice igniting something inside you and his pretty pink glossy lips more than entertaining to watch.

How would they feel against yours, around your cock?

You’d find out once you get him drunk enough.

“He’s never serious,” Gojo continued, sipping at his drink. “One week he’ll always have his hands all over me, tease me, pull me aside whenever he can get me alone, even just watch movies and stay for dinner with me… and then… then…”

“Then what?” you pushed, taking a handkerchief out of your pocket and trying not to grin when he took it, blowing his nose. He must not have noticed the peculiar smell to it. You never knew when you’d need to get out a quickie when following him, just his figure more than enchanting.

“He just ignores me and pretends like I’m just another face,” Gojo continued, tears swimming in his eyes and reflecting the bar’s dim light, specks of gold dancing across his blue eyes. “He won’t even care if I go out with other men, if I show up at his  apartment in nothing but lingerie. I just… I…”

He always was the prettiest when crying. You didn’t even try to stop yourself from leaning forward and thumbing away his tears, Gojo melting into your hand as if he’d known you forever. As if you weren’t just another fan in his eyes.

“You see him often?” you asked and Gojo nodded.

“He’s my manager. Only pays attention to me,” he sniffled and it all fit together a little too perfectly, didn’t it? The lingering touches around his waist when leading him away, the little whispers they’d sometimes share, how the other members would sometimes glare at the both of them.

Deep down, you’d always known, Gojo wasn’t even able to keep from whoring himself out at work.

“You deserve better,” you tell him, putting your hand over his soft one, fingers slim and nails perfectly manicured. “How about we get out of here and if he doesn’t kill me for it, we go from there. He’s an idiot for hurting you.”

Worse than a fool, but a despicable person. Handed the world and for what? To toy with him, to make him cry? You could do better, could make Gojo yours and yours alone till one day… till one day he’d only come to you, would quit his hectic job just to be spoiled.

Gojo nodded, the movement exaggerated and eyes so slightly foggy from the alcohol. “Wan’ him to see what he’s missing.”

“Of course,” you responded, steadying Gojo as he stood up and almost tumbled down to the floor. As fun as it would be to see him cry, you could do plenty of that later. All he needed was a sweet voice and he was already handing himself over. “Promise to give him a show he won’t forgive.”

It was all too easy to lead Gojo back to your house, Gojo only giggling when your hand hiked up his shirt and slipped underneath the hem, his walking becoming more and more unbalanced the further you got, the full effects of the alcohol kicking in. You doubted he even remembered what the two of you had talked about.

You opened the door to your small apartment, Gojo gagging at the smell as you rolled your eyes. You’d washed the little dishes you used three days ago and had only kept the trash for over a week now. If anything, the apartment was in near top condition. He should be grateful.

“Big fan, aren’t you?” Gojo giggled as you led him into your room, every album on display on shelves, barely any wall to be seen with posters, yet Gojo collapsing on your bed when you released him, none of it made and the bedding not washed for weeks. You doubted you’d wash the sheets ever again, not when Gojo himself had touched them, when you’d have your way with him on the sheets with his face printed across them.

“The biggest,” you whispered, kicking the door shut behind you. “Let’s get you out of those pesky clothes, hm?”

Gojo only giggled some more as you helped him out of his shirt, the man barely able to help with the state he was in.

“Tickles,” he laughed as your fingers grazed his nipples, a wild grin taking over your face as you threw the shirt off and onto the floor, tweaking one rosy nipple in your hand, Gojo arching with a cry, almost shoving his chest in your direction.

“Sensitive even here, aren’t you?” you asked and Gojo nodding with another little cry as you pinched and rolled the nub between your fingers, Gojo’s body nothing but an instrument to be played, his true self coming out with only a little teasing.

You wasted no more time in stripping off his pants, pausing as you were met with his panties, the fabric thin and damp, clinging to his folds. He had to be throbbing underneath it, already soaked through and trying to jerk his hips to thrust it toward you.

“Needy, aren’t you?” you whispered before leaning in, not even bothering to unwrap your present as you lick, Gojo’s slick sweet and musky in your mouth, addictive just like he was as you grab his hips for better leverage and begin to lick in earnest.

Gojo whimpered as you tongue at his little folds. It must be chubby and round beneath his panties, just like in the videos. The prettiest pussy for the prettiest boy.

And then you trailed up, tongue finding his little hood and Gojo trembling in your grasp, thighs clamping around your head as you find his clit through the fabric and attack it with your mouth, alternating between licking and sucking, Gojo’s breathy cries and whimpers building and building as you worked, legs clamping harder around your head and —

And you pulled away, Gojo sobbing. “Why did you… I was about to…”

If you want me to give you what you want, you’ll also wear what I want you to, right?” you asked, swatting away his hand that was trailing down to his pussy to finish himself off. “I think I have something you’ll like.”

You doubted he’d care or even realize what it was, eyes too hazy with lust and alcohol even as he nodded with a pout.

You opened your closet, pulling out the outfit without hesitation. After all, you’d bought it soon after you’d hatched your plan, the idea too tempting, and handed it to him. “Change in the bathroom. I want to see it on you when you’re finished.”

Gojo nodded, stumbling in the direction you pointed before you rushed around the room, turning on the tiny cameras scattered around the room, each one maybe the size of your thumbpad. It had been your plan, after all. To fuck Gojo and record, to get every angle of him you could, every face he made, every way he trembled and shook. How he’d cry.

Something told you he wouldn’t mind being recorded, though. The phone camera was always more than obvious in the leaked videos.

You hadn’t been planning on sharing, but you really wouldn’t mind sending the videos to his manager Geto. He’d wake up to a nice surprise, his boyfriend being used as some common whore yet again.

The door opened, Gojo peeking out, his cheeks even a deeper red, his shirt half undone.

“I…” he started, looking away and so adorably cute in his embarrassment. “I can’t get it off.”

How could he not…

Oh. Well how precious. Couldn’t walk properly when drunk, couldn’t even undo his own shirt buttons either or unzip his pants.

“Of course,” you said, walking to him and closing the bathroom door behind the two of you, only him and you in the small space, Gojo shifting in place before you got to work, undoing one button at a time and his shirt finally fluttering open, revealing his form before you.

So slightly toned from his endless dance practices, and skin so soft, Gojo sensitive even now with how he trembled beneath your touch. But it didn’t compare to his thin waist. To his rosy little nipples, both buds erect and…

Fuck, they were both pierced, little jewels glittering in the light and blue just like his eyes, only making the red of his skin all the more apparent.

And next, his pants, Gojo whining when you unbuttoned the top of them and then unzipped, helping him out and how was he so adorable? Little panties on and already damp, a little ribbon bow displayed at the front. Those would have to go as well, but no matter how much you wanted to see his cute little pussy for yourself, it would be better if you waited for just a little later.

At least his debut outfit didn’t have many buttons. You doubted he could mess that up.

“Be a good boy and put on the rest, yeah?” you asked, Gojo’s eyes going wide as he nodded, smile on his face and so eager to prove himself.

You stepped out, double checking the cameras as you waited.

And then the bathroom door was opening, Gojo stumbling out with a pink blush dusting his cheeks as you cooed, rushing forward to see him up close.

“Feels like the actual costume…” Gojo murmured, shifting in place.

And of course it did. When you saw his debut, you’d immediately known your life would never be the same, his debut outfit all too easy to find and order online. And how perfect was it on him? So boy-ish with the oversized shirt and the cute little shorts. Years had passed but Gojo still looked every bit as youthful as he had all those years ago.

“On your knees,” you ordered him, Gojo doing as told, eyes lighting up as you unzipped your pants and freeing your cock, the entire length an angry red and tip already leaking. You held it in front of him, showing him exactly what he did to you. How he worked you up till you couldn’t think right, couldn’t care about anything other than him.

“Suck,” you began, but Gojo had already surged forward before you got the word out, licking you from base to tip as if worshiping it before whimpering, nuzzling his cheek against it.

You needed it on your phone, fumbling for it before you dropped your pants and clicking photos, a little smile coming over Gojo as his hazy brain caught up with what you were doing, eyes glinting as he licked once again before popping your tip in his mouth.

You let out a grunt; Gojo’s mouth was warm and wet, heaven and pure bliss, and he only kept going down, feeding more and more into his mouth as you heaved for breath, tangling your hands in his hair, helping his way.

Gojo didn’t look up until his lips met the root, glossy pink stretched obscenely wide over your base, bright blue eyes pleading up at you through white lashes before he began to draw back.

Absolutely not, you thought, gripping his hair and slamming him back down, Gojo gagging at the sudden movement and tears springing up in the corners of his eyes yet following the camera as you got every angle of his debauchery.

“Hollow your cheeks and suck unless you want to suffocate,” you hissed, Gojo barely able to nod before he got to work, tongue licking along your shaft and fully sucking, tears trickling down his face even though you could swear his eyes had hearts in them.

You paused recording to snap more pictures of him. On his knees, mouth full of cock, wearing his first ever costume, it would be nothing but ruined innocence before you if it weren’t for those leaked tapes showing just how whorish he really was.

Another suck and the coil in your stomach tightened, so close. At least like this you’d be able to last when you finally fucked him, wouldn’t just finish within a minute inside him.

But it was the way he started trying to fight you that finally got you to release, his face red from lack of oxygen and nose struggling to take in enough air from the way it was buried in your pubic hair, sure to be breathing in your scent and memorizing it.

You pulled him back, Gojo gasping for breath, completely out of it and pliable as you opened his mouth with your fingers, sticky white cum still on his tongue.

“Swallow,” you commanded, a smile creeping over you, Gojo Satoru’s mouth full of your cum, about to eat it as if it were a meal, a way to defile him from the inside out. “Taste me.”

He did, dopey smile coming over his face when he did and looked up at you, licking his lips. “Do I get to cum now?”

What a dumb boy.

“Of course. Just get on the bed and spread your legs,” you said, helping him up. He really was so easy and ripe for the taking.

He did as told because of course he would, as you pace around the bed, drinking in the sight of him, Gojo following you with his eyes, pleading for you to do something.

It’s a shame to unbutton and unzip his shorts, but worth it to see the lacy lingerie underneath that did almost nothing to hide him, even that already soaked through.

“Did you get wet just sucking me off?” you asked, taking his shorts off the rest of the way and Gojo nodding.

“Stranger dick always tastes so good…” he murmured, his eyes unfocused as if he were in a trance from your dick alone,eyeing the vein running down your length. He wiggled his hips, thrusting his clothed cunt up. “Please? I’ve been so good.”

You stripped off your shirt, tossing it to the floor, before climbing over him, Gojo grinning as you did so. You turned the camera to him. “How much do you want this? Convince me I should let you have it.”

This was so much better than just drugging him and dressing his limp body up all by yourself. Something told you he’d enjoy even that with the way he’d been acting.

“Please,” he began, dragging out the vowels. “Wanna be filled up and loved so bad.”

That wasn’t good enough, it wasn’t a confession of his ways, of what had landed him in this situation in the first place. Why he didn’t deserve to pretend to act as though pure. Why he didn’t deserve to call himself an idol.

Who would ever want a defiled god beside yourself?

You slapped his pussy, Gojo only moaning and canting his hips up, the slap more wet and squelching than anything else. You pulled your hand away in disgust even as your dick throbs.

“Not the answer I wanted. Try again,” you demanded.

“Want to be fucked by a stranger,” he tried.

Another slap, this one wetter, and the cutest little tears filling his eyes. “I’ll give you a hint. What are you?”

“I’m…”

Slap.

“I’m a whore,” Gojo got out, a grin overtaking your face, the word so right coming from his lips. “A slut who wants to get fucked by any random man.”

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” you asked, beginning to peel his panties aside. And you’d been right, his little pussy a flushed pink and even chubbier than the images you’d seen online, quivering underneath your fingertips.

Gojo shook his head, hips canting down to push against your touch.

You hoped he wasn’t on birth control, that he’d swell round and heavy with your kid, but that would be impossible with the way you’d never seen a condom in any of the videos. He had to be on something.

You guided your dick through his drooling folds, yours already shiny with spit, but with Gojo so wet the idea of lube would only be overkill. You shuddered, your tip just almost slipping in and Gojo’s entire body shuddering.

You pushed, the tip finally in his clenching, wet warmth as you shuddered for breath. He should be loose, too stretched to give any real pleasure with the way he whored himself out, how he would sleep with just about anyone, even strangers like yourself.

They hadn’t been lying when they’d said he had a tight pussy.

“You’ll take me, yeah?” you panted, pushing to go deeper, to bury yourself fully into his flushed body. “You’ll make room.”

Gojo threw his head back with a whine at your words, or maybe the way you thrusted forward, no longer caring about trying to go slow. He’d been stuffed with worse and bigger. He’d learn to take it.

“Big… So big…” Gojo whimpered, hand trailing down to his stomach, pulling up his shirt and the world shattering around you, a bump in his perfect stomach.

You moved, the bump retracting until you thrust in more, the world in your hands.

He looked almost pregnant with how deep you were.

You’d get him off those pills he had to take eventually, would fill him up until he’d no longer be able to hide it. Till it would ruin his career, till he’d have no choice but to flee from the public eye with what you’d done to him.

After long enough, he’d leave his boyfriend and come to you instead. Would become your perfect little hole.

You couldn’t control your pace as you hammered into him, Gojo’s whines and moans filling the room, a litany of ‘harders’ and ‘please, please please’ filling the room. What a slut, begging for more even as every thrust pushed him up in your bed, as his eyes glazed over, and a little smile settling on his face as though he were on the top of the world instead of being fucked on a stranger’s bed that hadn’t been washed in months, surrounded by posters of his own face.

And yet you couldn’t stop staring at where the two of you met, his little lips sucking you in, clinging around your cock every time you pulled out just to thrust in. And he deserved a little reward, didn’t he? His clit peeking out of his hood, a ruby red jewel begging to be touched.

The whining moan that came out of him as you rolled it between your fingers seemed to shake through the apartment walls, Gojo throwing his head back as he finally tensed, his cunt milking your cock still inside him with a new wave of slick.

You gave a final thrust, the tip of your cock hammering into his cervix as you came, collapsing on top of him. Fuck. It had been worth it and more to stalk him, to wait months for this opportunity.

Gojo moved before you did, his voice almost whiny despite his labored breaths. “You’re done already?”

What?

You picked yourself up just to pull out; every movement was too much for you for at least a few minutes. Maybe if he had a dick he’d understand that you needed a breather.

“You’ve let it all go to waste,” Gojo whined, reaching down to his hole just to try to plug it up, keep all your cum inside. “Gotta start over.”

“I… I can’t…” you started. “Just give me five minutes. You want a toy? I bought some to —”

“I have toys at home,” Gojo almost snarled, pushing you back and onto the bed, his perfect hand on your chest and looking nothing like his pure debuted self despite the shirt he wore, a drunk blush covering his face and eyes hazed with drunkeness as well, but shining with lust. “Came here for the real thing.”

And then he was stroking your dick as you twitched beneath him, lining himself up and…

Fuck, you could barely breathe, the air was knocked out of your lungs and everything reversed as Gojo began to bounce up and down on it, hazy smile on his face even as he tapped the phone laying in your limp hand, reminding you to properly film him.

“So good, filling me up just right,” he moaned into the camera, thighs pumping himself up and down. “Can feel him up to my throat.” 

You could swear the room was becoming static around you, Gojo becoming more drunk on your cock than the alcohol he’d drank just a few hours ago.

 “Already taking the shape of another dick inside,” he giggled into the camera, almost delirious in it all. “So good.”

You swore under your breath not just as his words, but how he was using you for his own pleasure, taking and taking in a hope to somehow fill his never ending lust.

You couldn’t say you minded.

“Gonna fill you up again. You like that?” you panted, Gojo only nodding in response, eyes unfocused as he became more delirious in his bouncing on the entire thing with no rhythm in his franticness and the slapping of skin filling the apartment.

He reached his climax again, your entire crotch soaked in his fluids, sure to smell nothing like yourself, but only of him. He smelled almost sweet with something headier mixed in and so unlike your scent, something almost sour in yours. A reminder of the night the two of you were sharing. A smell you’d never want to get rid of.

He resumed his pace after breathing for a second, his refractory period next to nothing. What was he on? His second now?

“Come on, fill me up,” he whined. “I need it. Need to be plugged and feel it sloshing inside.”

Fuck. You tried to meet him in the middle, snapping up your hips as he dropped down, Gojo arching with a cry, throat on display as he did so, all his old hickeys almost gone. No wonder he was desperate without getting his fix for so long, the man almost seemed to be powered on cock alone.

“You’re a fan, right?” he continued, his words slurred. “Wanna… wanna be plugged up for my performance tomorrow. Wanna feel your cum sloshing inside me with every move. Wanna know you’re somewhere in the audience. Wan’ you to fuck me again backstage too. Right in front of Suguru.”

How dare he say that name now? He’d been such a good little slut so far too, only craving your dick, but fine. You’d punish him for that, like he deserved.

“You’re disgusting. Do you just let any fan fuck you? Or are you only smiling on stage because you’re plugged up with cum,” you spat. And he was. Nothing but an image of lies instead of human or god. Probably used his fame just to fuck, just to get his brains get banged out till he became stupid.

Yet it was your words that sent him over the edge again, Gojo panted for breath, chest rising and falling under his debut shirt, and you snapped as well, grabbing him by the hips and slamming him down, burying yourself inside again as you came.

“Plug yourself up, yeah?” you whispered, pulling out and bringing his hand down, Gojo’s eyes glazed out and mouth open, drool glistening along his lips, and high on sex.

It didn’t take long for you to find a plug with a beautiful blue jewel at the base to plug him up with, Gojo’s eyes rolling back as he giggled when you inserted it. There, now not a drop would escape.

He probably thought it was over, didn’t he? But he’d asked to be properly filled, and you’d do just that till he wouldn’t be able to think.

You needed a break, though.

You took the phone from his hands, getting a view of his entire body in the recording before bringing the camera to his plugged up pussy, chubby folds snuggling the jewel of the plug just right, skin gleaming in the light of your room with how drenched he was.

You switched to an app on your phone, barely able to hide your grin as you clicked on one of the lowest vibration frequencies. Gojo immediately moaned, with that blissed out look still on his face. You’d given him a very special plug, after all. One that would drive him crazier than any normal one.

You wondered if he’d trip on stage if you turned it all the way on during his performance. If it would look like he’d wet himself from the slick he’d gush.

“Need you to pose for the camera, whore,” you said, switching from recording to photo taking mode. “Lie back and spread your legs so everyone can see what was done to you.”

He did as told, reaching down to help part his glistening folds to properly show off. What a good little slut, one that deserved a reward. You turned up the vibration frequency.

“On your knees and present,” you ordered next, Gojo turning himself over and doing as commanded no matter how his thighs trembled, how his full bodied blush was becoming a deeper and deeper pink.

And the arch of his back, his shirt falling down his figure just to show off the bowing of his back and a tease of his nipples. How his stomach trembled so slightly as well, slick already dripping from his lips and onto the sheets below even as he kept his legs spread and ass up just as you asked.

A whimper and drool soon pooling onto your pillow as well as you turned the vibrations up once again, Gojo wiggling his ass, begging to be touched, to be used. But not yet.

“One more and we go again,” you promised, his eyes lighting up, seemingly hanging off your words.

“On your knees again, but like you’re about to suck my dick,” you ordered, Gojo scrambling into position but his movements sloppy, uncoordinated, and it would be a little mean, but…

You upped the frequency to max, Gojo’s eyes rolling back even as he held position, shuddering when you held his jawline. And how far a god had fallen to nothing but a common whore, his legs splayed wide in a kneel, hands steadying himself in the front and back arched, his mouth open as though begging to be filled.

If only he could see himself in some mock imitation of when he’d first walked onto stage, but now only begging to be fucked. He’d be ashamed, wouldn’t he? If he saw what he’d become back then.

He should be.

You looked down, his cunt wet and drooling slick, a long thread of it dripping down from his lips, and clit blood red as it peaked out from under its hood. You bet if you so much as flicked it, he’d come immediately.

You panned the camera up again, prodding your fingers against his now ruined lips, the gloss smudged everywhere, Gojo letting you in immediately, swirling his tongue around your fingers, sucking as if they were your dick, his hips trying to buck forward and get stimulation but receiving nothing at all.

“Nothing but a slut now,” you whispered, plunging your other hand down the neckline of his shirt just to pinch one of his nipples, Gojo letting out a hitching moan, so close to the edge yet without the final push to get there. He must be one of those greedy, ungrateful whores who could only get off if their clit was played with.

“Look at the camera again, yeah?” you asked, Gojo doing as asked, eyes hazed over but going wide as you finally flicked his clit, that the only thing he needed for a full body shudder to go through him, eyes so close to rolling in toward the back of his head, his cunt gushing around the plug.

You turned it off. You might be able to survive one more round.

And yet he deserved to be punished for how he’d mentioned Geto, punished for how greedy he was, for how he’d dared to push you down just to satisfy his greedy little pussy.

Gojo shuddered as your hand trailed along his labia, everything down there soaked, Gojo startling as you went past, thumbing along his asshole. You’d promised to fill him up completely, after all.

“You swallowed and now you have that plug,” you whispered as you began to stretch him open. “Just one more hole left to fill.”

Gojo shuddered at your words and you could swear he somehow gushed more slick. But no matter. If anything, it helped. All too easy to gather up, tease at his labia as you gathered it, only to use it to gain easier access to opening up his ass.

Gojo drooled across the pillow he’d slumped into as you stretched him out, the hazy smile on his face again as he hugged it to his face. As if he was having the time of his life, his body nothing but a tool of pleasure.

You pulled out your fingers, his little asshole gaping so slightly from work and that would be enough; Your dick was only half hard no matter how erotic the scene, so Gojo must be some sort of sex fiend, still not satisfied despite his multiple orgasms.

No wonder Geto had ‘slumps’. His dick had probably been put on bed rest.

You shuddered as you began to push in, Gojo’s walls almost seemed ribbed in this hole as he fluttered around you, body unsure if he wanted you out or in. If you weren’t one orgasm away from death, you would have already cum, not even fully in.

You traced the bow in his back as you slowly fed your length in, only dipping around to feel his stomach when you were fully seated, a bulge there. You pressed down.

Gojo spasmed in your arms as you did so, the cutest whine punched out of him as his walls contracted around your dick. You bet you could have him milk you without you having to move an inch if you just prodded at him in the right areas.

Maybe you’d try that out another time, Gojo sure to come back to you. Desperate for another fix because you’d take care of him like he wanted. Pleasure and punish his greedy cunt.

You pulled out just to slam again, punching another whine out of Gojo, and beginning to form a rhythm. He must be getting desperate, his little pussy untouched, its only stimulation being that of your balls as you thrusted into his ass.

“You like that? Getting fucked in the ass when you’re too greedy?” you panted and Gojo only squirming, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Is it throbbing? Begging to be touched?”

He nodded, brain addled by sex and the alcohol that had got him spilling all his secrets in the first place.

It was gushing slick so thick it was getting a white sheen to it, pearling around his chubby lips stained an angry red. Pleading to be touched.

You saw red as Gojo tried to touch it with a trembling hand. You snatched his wrist, the thing thin and frail as Gojo wailed, another hand trying to reach it, but you grabbed that one as well.

“Please, please let me touch it,” he whined, the tears in his eyes only making them sparkle all the more. “Just one touch. Please!”

You paused, as if considering, letting your grip go just a little looser and foolish hope blooming in Gojo’s eyes, shattering as you grinned.

“No.”

You pulled him up so he was sitting in your lap now, your cock somehow reaching even deeper, and his hands so much easier to keep restrained this way. Perfect. The more he arched, the more he pressed himself into you.

You thrusted up, his mouth falling open at the new reach, your lap only getting wetter and wetter from his juices.

“Lemme touch it, lemme touch!” he whined, bucking his hips forward and into nothing but air, his movements jerky and desperate. “I wanna cum again. I’ve been good!”

As if a slut like him could ever be truly obedient, so unruly unless there was a promise of getting to cum dangled in front of him.

“You cum on my cock or not at all,” you hissed, the tears that had welled up in Gojo’s eyes finally overflowing. And he really didn’t believe he could, did he? But he would. You could be patient and wring one out of him.

It wasn’t long till he lost it entirely, phone tumbling out of his grip and whines and breathy gasps punched out of him at every thrust, breaths erratic and fast, eyes wide open but seeing nothing.

He was probably so close he could taste it, you doing barely any better, panting into his neck.

You pressed his stomach right as you snapped your hips up again, Gojo screaming as he finally convulsed, slick gushing from his pussy and eyes rolling back into his head till they were as white as his hair.

He’d squirted, that the final thing to finally push you over the edge as well.

You collapsed with him, barely mustering the strength to pull out and plug that last hole of his up as well, Gojo awake but still blissed out from the aftershocks.

He was finally done, wasn’t he?

He nuzzled into you as you flopped down as well, maneuvering him under the covers, his body twitching ever so slightly with your every touch, finally so sweet again now that he was satiated.

“Can you turn it on again?” he slurred.

“What?” you asked. He couldn’t mean…

“Just to the lowest. Wanna… wanna…” he trailed off, words too much for his cum addled mind. You did as asked, setting both plugs to the lowest and a little smile playing on his lips as his eyes fluttered closed, body melting into yours under the covers and room smelling of nothing but cum and sex.

It was all too easy to find his phone in the pile of clothes he’d discarded, to line it up to his limp hand and press his thumb into the lock, Gojo not even stirring. Easier, then, to find Geto’s number and type it into your own phone.

Geto would wake up to quite a surprise. You closed your phone, a series of videos and pictures sent to him, footage of the entire night the two of you had shared. Every moan, every breathy sigh, every climax. How Gojo had worshiped your dick.

You could be generous just this once. Really make sure that man would be jealous.

You’d collect and put together the footage tomorrow from your phone camera and the ones scattered around the room. For now, what mattered was drifting off into sleep as Gojo cuddled into you, satiated at least. You’d be the only one to have the total compiled footage.

You’d need at least a week till your dick would work again.

Geto Suguru’s phone pinged. Once, twice, over and over again in quick succession. He scowled, reaching for it. It was probably Satoru, begging him so incessantly to please come over, that he’d only need a quickie, or some other lie.

An unknown number.

He clicked, no harm in looking, and eyebrows shooting up as the thumbnails of the videos loaded along with the pictures. So Satoru really had made good on his threat of finding someone else, just like he did about… fifty percent of the time?

The pictures were a little too good, Satoru looked absolutely debauched in what had to be a replica of his debut outfit. He needed to be taught a lesson.

He pulled up Satoru’s location on his phone, something Satoru himself had insisted on for the both of them. So, the outskirts of town, huh? And judging by the background of some of the pictures, with some obsessed fan. 

He knew the type, Satoru always having to remind him to stop glaring at them whenever he spotted one. They always acted like they knew Satoru, as if the version he presented himself on stage was the real one. And yet they’d never know Satoru as he did, Satoru only his true self when crying and begging for his cock. Not even his various exes truly knew him. Only hookups who’d never see how much he craved candy after dance practice and how sweet he could really be after a long day of dancing on stage, too tired to do anything but cuddle with Suguru.

That would make it all too easy, Suguru strolling out and making the short drive to Satoru.

The apartment complex was a wreck, the absolute bare minimum. Suguru scrunched his nose in disgust as he searched to find the apartment number. Really? Satoru had never stooped so low before.

The apartment door was unlocked - how stupid was that guy? Suguru walked in, almost gagging as he did so, the place reeking of mold and stale beer, floor covered in garbage.

The room door was open, the entire thing plastered with posters, photocards, any sort of merchandise Satoru was in, two forms laying in the disgusting bed, Suguru shining around his phone light.

He didn’t even look that good.

But Satoru… he couldn’t help but smile. He really was all too adorable when sleeping, all his sass, pride, and lust washed away when he was sleeping, face relaxed and tiny smile on his face, the one he always had when especially satiated, his soft eyelashes resting across his face, white mascara glittering down his face in equally white tear tracks.

Actually… He’d been wrong. About the lust being washed away, the soft sound of a very familiar vibration going through the room. Because of course he’d ask for that.

And then the fan…

Well, he’d certainly had his dreams come true, so it wouldn’t be all that tragic if he died happy. After all, most people did say they wanted to die in their sleep, so what part of it would be any tragedy?

Satoru needed to learn, after all.

The human body really was fascinating, a simple stab to the side of the neck enough for blood to start spraying, for the man’s eyes to snap open, Suguru clapping a hand over his mouth, and the life draining from them within seconds, the man choking on his own blood and Satoru not even stirring.

He’d always adored what a heavy sleeper he was.

The man lay lifeless beside Satoru as Suguru stepped back, swiping the blood from his face before he had an idea. Suguru knelt down and dipped his finger in one of the pools, painting red over Satoru’s lips.

Now he properly looked ready for stage, his debut shirt on and makeup done, still hugging his fan’s limp body.

The poor thing had to stoop so low just for his attention, but it was okay. He forgave him each time his needs got ahead of him and made him sleep with other men. This wouldn’t be an exception.

Really, he should thank the fan for sending him all the footage. Suguru wouldn’t even have to pay for it as he usually did. It was always so funny to see Satoru’s face when he found out about his tirades being leaked online.

How lucky he was to have such a forgiving boyfriend such as himself.

He walked away. Satoru would call in the morning, voice high with panic when he’d find what was left of his little one night stand. After all, he’d need help to make sure no one would suspect him, help to hide the body.

It wasn’t like anyone would miss the man he’d left dead in his own bed.