nottellingofname

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #24 - Helpline Operator doesn't say anything ☼

Y/N—pick up. Please, just—pick up the damn phone.

...

Goddamn it, Y/N! That’s the sixth call! What are you doing, just sitting there staring at my name? Come on—answer me!

I know you're there. I know you. You don’t just go silent like this unless something’s really wrong. Please don’t shut me out. Please—I need someone right now. I need you.

Fucking hell! If you don’t say anything right now, Y/N, I swear to God—I’ll... I’ll lose it. Is that what you want? Huh?! Me losing it?!

...This is useless. It’s like screaming into a void. You’re just—just a fucking coward.

Y/N... say something. Anything. I’m begging you. Don’t—don’t you dare hang up again! Just—

The number you’ve been calling is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone.

...Right. Of course. Figures.

END OF CALL: 46 Seconds

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[nottellingofname]

Canon. On and Off screen.

Sam and Bucky came storming into my office, telling me I needed to get rid of the spider that was in the common room. I wasn't sure what they were worried about but I grabbed a cup to catch it in, only to find Peter waiting there for me to give him some suit upgrades.

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #23 - Boy calls back ☼

So what was the super super world-shattering thing you just had to tell me at two in the goddamn morning?

What are you talking about? I already told you.

No, you didn’t. Don’t play that game with me, Y/N.

It was about homework.

Homework? At 2 a.m.? Please. If that’s your version of an emergency, I need a refund on this friendship.

I'm serious, Satoru. I have to go.

Hey—wait, wait. No. I’m not done with you. Don’t do that thing where you run off the second it gets heavy. Just talk to me, damn it—Y/N?

...

Y/N?! DON’T YOU DARE HANG UP. I swear, I’ll call you again. I’ll keep calling, I don’t care if it’s three in the morning or if you block me—

The number you’re dialing is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone.

This is bullshit, Y/N. What the hell is going on with you?

END OF CALL: 48 Seconds

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@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie @unaaasz @ratgeneralarmageddon @mvcg-oo

[nottellingofname]

NGAWWW THANK YOU!!!! I love it when people leave comments or reblog my stories. I love you guys for giving this story a chance <3

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #22 - Helpline Operator wants to confess ☼

I need to talk to you.

Mmmgh… Y/N, it’s two in the morning. My eyeballs are literally protesting.

I know. I’m sorry. I just... I couldn’t sleep. My brain’s being an asshole.

Okay, okay. You’ve got five minutes before I drift back into unconsciousness.

I need to confess something.

…What is it? Did you kill someone? If so, blink twice.

No, idiot. It’s just... something personal.

Y/N…

…Do you still think about your ex?

…Suguru?

Yeah.

I mean... yeah. All the time, actually. He’s kinda... hard to forget.

So... you're still in love with him?

…Wait. Where is this coming from?

It’s not—forget it. It’s stupid. I don’t even know why I asked. I just... Ugh, whatever. Anyway, do you think I should finish my history assignment or fake a family emergency?

…What?

I'm leaning toward fake emergency, but I need expert consultation.

Y/N. You asked me about my dead ex and then pivoted to... history homework?

Yes. Because this is obviously a life-and-death situation.

I’m too tired for this. I’m hanging up.

Don’t you dare, Satoru Gojo! I still need your help—

END OF CALL: 1 Minute, 18 Seconds

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@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie @unaaasz @ratgeneralarmageddon

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #22 - Helpline Operator wants to confess ☼

I need to talk to you.

Mmmgh… Y/N, it’s two in the morning. My eyeballs are literally protesting.

I know. I’m sorry. I just... I couldn’t sleep. My brain’s being an asshole.

Okay, okay. You’ve got five minutes before I drift back into unconsciousness.

I need to confess something.

…What is it? Did you kill someone? If so, blink twice.

No, idiot. It’s just... something personal.

Y/N…

…Do you still think about your ex?

…Suguru?

Yeah.

I mean... yeah. All the time, actually. He’s kinda... hard to forget.

So... you're still in love with him?

…Wait. Where is this coming from?

It’s not—forget it. It’s stupid. I don’t even know why I asked. I just... Ugh, whatever. Anyway, do you think I should finish my history assignment or fake a family emergency?

…What?

I'm leaning toward fake emergency, but I need expert consultation.

Y/N. You asked me about my dead ex and then pivoted to... history homework?

Yes. Because this is obviously a life-and-death situation.

I’m too tired for this. I’m hanging up.

Don’t you dare, Satoru Gojo! I still need your help—

END OF CALL: 1 Minute, 18 Seconds

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@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie @unaaasz @ratgeneralarmageddon

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #21 - Helpline Operator avoids Satoru ☼

Y/N! Y/N! Where the hell were you the other day?

Well, I thought you were gonna call!

I did! Three times! Your boss picked up and said you were—what was it?—‘in the bathroom cleaning’? What does that even mean?!

Yeah... I was, uh... scrubbing the toilet.

Oh, come on. Did I do something? Did I say something? You’ve been weird.

No, no, nothing. You didn’t do anything. I just... gotta go. I was literally about to order pizza—

Pizza?! You’re ditching me for a glorified bread circle with toppings?

Yes. Bread circle with toppings is comforting. Bread circle never asks invasive questions.

Y/N. Come on. Stay a little. Talk to me. I missed our weird little banter thing.

We’ll banter next time. I need to make this call. The pepperoni’s waiting.

You’re seriously choosing pizza over me?

I would choose pizza over anybody.

Y/N, please. Just five more minutes. I swear I won’t even talk. I’ll just... breathe into the phone while you order pizza.

That sounds deeply disturbing.

I’m desperate here. I’ve talked to actual humans today and none of them were as weird as you. I need my fix.

Too bad. I’ve got a date with marinara and mozzarella.

You’re breaking my heart.

Goodbye, Gojo.

Y/N—wait! Don’t—.

END OF CALL: 1 Minute, 24 Seconds

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@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie @unaaasz @ratgeneralarmageddon

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #20 - Boy misses Suguru ☼

Twenty Questions. You ready?

Wait—no hi? No ‘how are you, Satoru, oh love of my helpline life’?

Do you know who you’re talking to, Mr. Fanceh?

Still. Why Twenty Questions? Are we twelve?

I need... additional data for my ongoing mission to stalk you more efficiently.

Wow. Should I be flattered or filing a restraining order?

Don’t flatter yourself, Fanceh-Pants. It’s part of the premium client package.

Okay, first of all, did you just say Fanceh-Pants? That’s a hate crime.

Great! Question one—blondes or brunettes?

Brunettes. Easy

Oho? Confident. Explain your logic, Professor Hotshot.

Because I have white hair. If I date a blonde, it feels like I’m dating my evil twin. No thank you.

Valid.

Also… I always had a thing for brunettes. Suguru was a brunette. Prettiest damn hair I’ve ever seen.

…Who?

Suguru. My… friend. Dead friend.

Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay.

Man, I miss him.

…Hey, listen—I kinda gotta go. I’m, uh, getting tired.

It’s literally nine. You're a grandma now?

Early to bed, early to emotionally repress. You know how it is.

But we didn’t finish the questions.

Another time, I promise.

…So, I’ll talk to you tomorrow?

You know it, Mr. Fanceh.

You’re such a freak.

Your freak.

Yeah... you are. My best friend.

…Yeah. And that’s all I’ll ever be.

Huh? What was that?

Wha—nothing! Absolutely nothing! Anyway—gotta go!

Okaaay then. Bye, weirdo.

Night, Satoru.

END OF CALL: 3 Minutes, 45 Seconds

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[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #19 - Boy wants to clear the air ☼

So… I heard you’ve been talking to Serena.

Well, you were MIA, so... not like I had options.

So…

So…?

…Do you like her?

What? No! I barely know her. She called me ‘Lover Boy’ and hung up.

She thinks you’re cute.

And I think my shades are cute, but I’m not asking it out.

…Are you actually this dense or are you just committed to the bit?

…Um?

Oh my god, I’m talking to a walking ego in a blindfold.

Anyway, speaking of ego—Serena told me I’ve got a nickname now. Apparently I’m ‘Lover Boy’?

Bruh. What the helly.

Bruh? You just ‘bruh’d’ me?!

Yeah, what about it?

I can’t believe this. I’m friends with someone who unironically uses ‘bruh.’ Is nothing sacred anymore?

It’s a filler word, not a felony.

It’s so cliché. You hate cliché. You once roasted a guy for quoting The Office.

Yeah, well, I’m contradicting myself today. Might start saying 'slay’ and 'no cap’ next.

Stop it...

Anyway—you were saying?

Right. So I’m ‘Lover Boy’ now? Could you, I dunno, clarify to your boss and your gremlin cousin that we’re just friends? I’d like to preserve the shreds of my dignity.

Oh. That. Uh… they told you that, huh? Pssh. Lies. Slander. Don’t believe a word they say. Serena hates me and my boss thinks TikTok is a skincare brand.

Uh-huh. And what in the dictionary of chaos does ‘cap’ mean?

Brace yourself—I might even say IJBOL.

Please no.

But YOLO, right?

ENOUGH.

END OF CALL: 4 Minutes, 56 Seconds

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[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #18 - Boy is Lover Boy ☼

Hello there! You’ve reached Teen Helpline, a safe and confidential space. How can I—

Wow. They really gave the script an upgrade, huh?

Uh. Sorry… who is this?

Satoru. Mr. Fanceh, thank you very much. You know—Y/N’s favorite caller? Tall, charming, emotionally unstable with a tragic backstory and great eyes?

…Okay, wow. Confidence. Also—wrong person, Lover Boy.

Sorry—what?

I’m Serena. Part-time. Y/N’s cousin. She’s out sick or rage-quitting life for a few days. Hard to tell.

Huh...

And you’re him, by the way

Him?

Yeah. Lover Boy. The magical Satoru. The only person who calls here more than Karen from HR during her divorce.

You’re joking.

Nope. My boss literally calls you ‘Y/N’s Lover Boy’ on the shift sheet.

Okay, that is fake news. Absolute slander. Y/N and I are friends. Just friends!

Mmm, sure. And I’m an eight-foot-tall purple dinosaur.

Wait—are you?

No, dumbass. It’s called sarcasm.

Right...

So... wanna talk about why you called, or were you just hoping for Y/N to read you more sparkly vampire fanfiction?

Goodbye.

END OF CALL: 1 Minute, 59 Seconds

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[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #17 - Boy is not gay? ☼

Hey, Mr. Fanceh!

You know, I really need to invent a nickname for you. Too bad nothing rhymes with ‘Y/N.’ It’s like your parents were trying to avoid being roasted.

Pfft—HAHAHA. You can try, but I’m nickname-proof. You’ll break before I do.

I never give up. I’m annoyingly resilient.

Big talk coming from the guy who slammed the phone down because I said the word ‘bulge’ while reading Carlo fanfic.

IT WAS A LOT, OKAY? It hit me outta nowhere. You should’ve given a content warning!

You were the one who begged for dramatic gay fanfiction!

I wanted fluff! A little hand-holding! Some longing glances! Not whatever level-five demon ritual that was!

Oh my God. Guys who can read slash fanfiction without flinching? Super secure in their masculinity.

I am secure! I’m the pinnacle of heterosexual confidence. I just don’t need a detailed description of Aro's blood flowing everywhere but his brain, if you know what I mean.

You're a coward.

I’m just trying to protect what’s left of my dignity, thank you.

Please. You’re about as emotionally stable as a soap opera subplot.

I am perfectly stable. Stable enough to come over and prove I’m straight, if you want.

…Um. Well. Bold of you to offer that after telling me you slept with your best friend.

…Right. That.

Yeah.

That got awkward fast.

Suuuuper awkward.

We should probably never talk about that again.

Agreed.

…I’m still straight, though.

No one cares, Satoru.

YOU should care.

I’m hanging up now.

Y/N, wait—!

END OF CALL: 2 Minutes, 42 Seconds

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@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #16 - Boy is not a virgin ☼

…So… um…

Wow. That was smooth. Is this your idea of flirting?

Rude. For the record, back when I was the strongest—emphasis on was—I had people lining up behind me. Like, entire parades. Fireworks. Confetti.

Keyword: had. Past tense, Mr. I-am-the-Strongest.

Oh please. What about you? Don’t act like you’re not using this job to flirt with me.

Me?! I have plenty of people in my life who... exist. In theory. Probably.

Mhm. Super convincing. You and your imaginary book club friends must be slaying.

Okay, first of all—shut up. Second, you still never answered the question: when’s the last time you even felt love?

Who said anything about love? For all you know, I could be getting laid on the regular.

EW. Ew. Stop talking. I do not need the mental image of you doing anything remotely adult. My brain is sacred.

How are you even getting a mental image? You haven’t even seen me.

Because you have big ‘hot mess with great hair’ energy. I can just tell.

You’re not wrong.

Ugh. So gross. I can’t believe you’re not a virgin.

Sigh.

…Wait. For real?

Yeah.

Okay... so? Spill. Who was the unlucky soul?

You don’t let up, do you?

Nope. I’m relentless. Now talk.

…My best friend.

…The one who—

Yeah.

Oh. Wow. I—didn’t know friends… did that.

It wasn’t just that. I loved him. I still… do, I guess.

Right.

…

Listen, I gotta go.

What? Why?

I just—I have to.

I just called.

I know. But if I stay, I’ll probably say something stupid.

Oh...

Okay. Bye.

Bye...

END OF CALL: 4 Minutes, 3 seconds

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@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #15 - Boy is NOT writing fanfiction ☼

...It’s two in the morning. If this isn’t life-threatening, I swear I’ll let a curse eat you.

Get on the goddamn phone, Mr. Fanceh.

You’re so nice. Such sparkling bedside manner.

I’m sorry, I’m bored. I have no friends and all my coworkers suck. You’re my designated emotional support delinquent.

Obviously. No one’s lining up to hang out with someone who opens calls with death threats.

I’m wounded! Mortally offended!

ou’ll survive. Unfortunately.

Aw. You do care. Deep, deep under all that emotional constipation.

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want, sugarplum?

How may Teen Confessions Helpline better your day and guide you gently toward becoming a happier, livelier teen?

God, that was horrible. Is your boss listening again?

Maaaaybe.

...

...Okay she’s gone. You’re safe.

Thank god. I was about to fake cry just to get her off your back.

How’s your book doing, by the way?

I’m not writing a book..?

Yes you are. You told me, like, three calls ago. You even said the phrase ‘my MC has parental issues’ and that’s classic writer behavior.

I said I write. Not that I’m writing a book, you pathological liar.

Harsh. And here I was, giving you free therapy and Twilight analysis.

Yeah, and trauma via secondhand sparkly vampire angst. Thanks so much.

ou’re welcome. Anyway, still sounds like someone’s got a novel stewing in their pretty little brain.

Even if I was writing one, why would I tell you? You’d mock the title and then ship the main characters out of spite.

Correct. That’s friendship.

We’re friends now?

I mean... you’re on my speed dial. That’s got to count for something.

You sound lonely.

I am lonely. I work in a windowless office where my most meaningful interaction is with a vending machine that eats my coins.

Yikes. Might wanna check that out.

So yeah. I’m clinging to you like Velcro. Accept it.

Fine. I accept.

Aww. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.

Don’t get used to it.

Too late. I’m screenshotting it with my mind.

You need more real friends.

And you need therapy.

Touché.

END OF CALL: 3 Minutes, 24 Seconds

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@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #14 - Boy opens up ☼

Hello—Teen Confessions Helpline. You’re speaking with—

Really, Y/N?

Oh god. It’s you again.

Rude. I expected at least a 'Hey Satoru, how’s your crippling anxiety today?'

Sorry, I thought it was another weepy teenager, not my certified attention-seeking demon.

As if any of your other ‘weepy teenagers’ call as religiously as I do.

True. My boss is starting to think we’re dating. Which is hilarious.

Tell him I’m out of your league. That’ll shut it down.

Tell yourself that. Anyway. What’s the crisis tonight, Mr. Fanceh?

I finished Twilight.

…Wait. You finished all of it?

Front to back. No skimming. I even read Midnight Sun, Y/N. I suffered for Edward’s perspective.

OH MY GOD—YES! So?!

I have nothing left to live for. It's over. The sparkles are gone.

Don’t say that! Like Stephenie Meyer says, ‘When life offers you a dream far beyond any of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.’

Okay, you quoting that with full sincerity is gonna make me cry harder than Bella in New Moon.

You’re gonna be okay. You just need to reread everything, binge the movies, spiral about the CGI baby like the rest of us. Twilight isn’t a phase—it’s an emotional support lifestyle.

…You know what, Y/N? Thanks.

For what?

All of it. For making me read something ridiculous. For listening. You helped more than you know.

…Oh. Uh. No problem.

Yeah.

Mhm.

Yeah.

Okay, this is getting too serious. We need to derail it with a fart joke or something.

Nah, it’s fine. I’ve actually... not been super suicidal lately. Been reading more. Writing, too. It’s been a distraction.

That’s really good, Satoru. Seriously. But... what triggered it in the first place? If you don’t mind.

Oh, we’re back to the therapy voice now?

Shut up. I'm asking because I care, doofus.

Moron.

Mr. Fanceh.

…Okay, okay. I’ll talk. You win. It started because... I used to be strong. Like, the guy. The one everyone looked to. I was the best, the brightest. And then... he died.

…Who?

My best friend.

Oh my god.

Yeah...

Jesus

Actually, it’s just me. But people say the resemblance is uncanny.

I was trying to be sympathetic!

Don’t be. I’ve had enough pity to drown in. And I get it, I’m still the strongest, still that guy. But what’s the point of being ‘the strongest’ if I couldn’t protect the one person who mattered?

Satoru…

I quit. Tried, at least. They dragged me back in. Said they needed me. Like I’m a weapon, not a person. And then everything just... went grey. Nothing mattered. That’s when I found the number. That’s when I found you.

...And then magic happened.

Yeah. You listened. You didn’t try to fix me, or lecture me, or tell me I was wrong. You read me Twilight and yelled at me for not appreciating werewolves. That’s what helped. You... helped.

…I’ll always be here to listen.

Forever?

Forever.

ONGOING CALL: 46 Minutes, 27 Seconds

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Taglist:

@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie

[nottellingofname]

I love sukuna even if he wants to krill me. <3

۶ৎ JJK Men reads thirsty tweets! with sukuna.

۶ৎ ningning, shout out to the people who said these diabolical things, was very entertained writing this.

he walks in already irritated.

not even two seconds on set and sukuna’s cracking his neck, arms folded, thick brows pulled together like someone made eye contact with him at a stoplight. there’s no PR team, no handler, no smile. just him, four fucking arms, a deep scar under his eye, and an attitude like he’s one inconvenience away from leveling the studio.

"why the fuck am i here again?" he mutters, tugging the mic wire from under his shirt like it’s choking him.

"reading... what? thirsty tweets?"

he lets out a dry, ugly laugh. “nah, fuck off. y’all got no shame.”

his tongue clicks. he plops down in the chair, massive legs spread like he owns the planet—which, honestly, he could. shirt open, tattoos sprawling down his chest and arms, the lower pair of his hands cracking his knuckles while the uppers take the first card.

he squints. already mad. "alright. who the fuck said this one."

tweet #1

@nottellingofname: tbh... not even malevolent shrine can keep me away from that belly mouth. GIVE ME THAT D!!!

he blinks. blinks again. "...no. nah. what the fuck?" he holds the card away from his face like it physically stinks.

“what do you MEAN ‘not even malevolent shrine’? that’s a domain expansion. it slices anything with intent. you’d be cubed. diced. dead.” he flips the card like it’s gonna give him answers.

“GIVE ME THAT D??? WHICH ONE?! I HAVE FOUR FUCKING ARMS—WHAT D ARE YOU EVEN REFERRING TO??” he glares into the camera, visibly disturbed. "and y’all say I’m the monster.”

tweet #2

@fushigurozm: both holes both dihs 🙏🙏🙏

he just stares. long. dead silent. “…both—what?”

he squints, like the letters are rearranging themselves. "what the fuck is a dih. no, I’m not doin’ this." he turns to someone off-camera. “this some Gen Z slang? that a fuckin' Pokémon?? what the fuck is this goddamn language?”

he mutters, “both holes—bitch i’d break your entire ribcage.”

tweet #3

@ryomen: sukuna could fold me into a pretty pretzel and do w h a t e v e r he pleases. insanity? maybe. but CAN YOU BLAME ME??? THE GUY HAS F O U R ARMS AND A BELLY MOUTH(!!!) the things i think about this man are so unhinged and amatory. he could slice me apart in his domain and id probably have a big smile plastered on my face before dying. #wanthimlikeoxygenatp

his upper left hand just slowly covers his mouth. “...y’all need fucking help.”

he's silent, blinking like he’s trying to process just how far humanity’s fallen. “amatory?? the fuck is this, a fanfic? you will die. not a ‘smile plastered’—you’ll be in pieces, get that through your thick-ass skull.”

he throws the card down. "and stop romanticizing the fuckin’ belly mouth. it’s for intimidation. not your fuckin’ freak fantasy."

tweet #4

@ssetsuka: Sorry I was staring at your enormous heavy tits, can I carry them for you my king 😼

he freezes. “...i—what the fuck did you just say?”

he looks down at his chest, slowly, like maybe he’s been walking around with D-cups and didn’t know. “enormous… tits?”

he’s genuinely offended now. “TITS?? these are pectoral muscles, you absolute perverted degenerate. what the fuck is wrong with you?” he throws the card. just flings it across the studio.

tweet #5

@yumiyawning: give me the dihs or wtv cupcakke said 👅

“WHAT IS A DIH.” he shouts.

“WHY DOES IT KEEP COMIN’ BACK?? STOP SAYING IT LIKE I’M SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IT MEANS.” he growls like an animal. “and who the fuck is cupcakke."

tweet #6

@kyovy: i know im not cinderella but i know damn well it'll FIT 👅👅👅👅

his eyes narrow. “fit…?”

then realization hits. “…oh you disgusting little shit. you talkin’ bout your—fuckin’ hell.” he rubs a hand down his face, and the lower one clenches into a fist.

“it’s not a damn glass slipper. i’m not Prince Charming. i’m a curse. a mass-murdering, body-snatching, god-killing demon.” a pause. “…also, it won’t fit. you’d probably die. just sayin’.”

tweet #7

@tetsuski: screaming, crying, throwing up and coughing up blood cause I'm not currently in bed with ryomen sukuna confessing his undying love to me as he shows me what that mouth belly can do

“the fuck is with y’all and this mouth.” he points to his abdomen like he’s personally offended it’s become a meme.

“it bites people. it doesn’t sing. it doesn’t do fucking kisses. it eats. you’d be a snack in under five seconds and i wouldn’t even digest you fully outta spite.” he sighs, deep and long. you can tell he’s regretting immortality.

tweet #8

@avietnu: Need his cock to split my whole body in half from my pussy straight up to the top of my head

he stares at the card for a solid ten seconds. no words. just disappointment. “…nah, see.”

he flips it over, reads it again, flips it back. “y’all need to be in chains.”

he holds the card up to the camera. “look at this. look at it. she said ‘from pussy to the top of my head’ like it’s a fuckin’ seam rip. you got a death wish? i got a blade tongue, four arms, and cursed energy that could annihilate cities—AND Y’ALL WANNA FUCK.”

he tosses the card violently behind him. “what is wrong with this generation.”

tweet #9

@longlivegojo: sukuna could call me a slur and I’d write it in cursive on my mirror with lipstick

he immediately stands. just stands. “WE’RE DONE. I’M DONE. I’m packin’ my shit. That’s it. I refuse.”

someone off-camera is howling, but he’s already pacing. “a fuckin’ slur? i got fans out here tryin’ to get verbally abused so they can write it in fuckin’ cursive?! where do you people come from?”

he yanks his mic off, muttering to himself. “fuckin’ lipstick on mirrors… y’all got too much free time. get a fuckin’ job. touch dirt.”

a crew member tries to calm him down. “ryomen, just one more—”

“NO. NO MORE. I CAME HERE OUTTA COURTESY, NOT TO BE SEXUALLY HARASSED BY A FUCKIN’ FANBASE THAT WANTS TO GET RAW DOGGED BY A CURSE WHO CAN REARRANGE TIME AND SPACE.”

a beat. “…and for the love of all that’s holy—STOP SAYING DIH.”

he storms off the set, jacket flapping, one hand still muttering “dih? dih???” while the belly mouth grumbles and snaps at air like it’s pissed too.

viewers later report he did destroy a Starbucks two blocks away out of pure frustration.

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #13 - Boy fights demons ☼

Hellooo? If this is about my library fines, I swear I returned that book—eventually.

Wow. You really do answer calls during school hours.

And you really do keep calling during school hours. What are we? Criminals?

Technically, I’m the helpline. You’re the one picking up while in class.

Please, I’m in... Advanced Stealth and Threat Evasion. It's a very hands-on class.

That sounds fake.

Fake but real. Like half the things I say.

Okay, real question: if we’re the same age, why have I never heard of you? There’s, like, one high school in our area.

That’s because I don’t go to your kind of school.

Is it a rich kid school? Boarding school? Wait—is it religious?

Bingo. Private, spiritual, elite. Only the best of the best.

...You go to a Shinto school?

Something like that. We do a lot of praying. And exorcisms.

...Sorry, what?

Kidding! Sort of. You ever try banishing a demon with a math textbook? Even curses are scared of math.

Is that... metaphorical? Or should I be calling someone?

Nah. Just another Tuesday.

You’re genuinely the weirdest person I’ve ever spoken to.

Thank you. That means a lot, coming from someone who once read Twilight aloud to keep me from spiraling.

I was trying to be helpful!

And you were. I stayed alive and found a new appreciation for moody vampires.

Do your teachers not monitor your phone?

They know better. Besides, if I go dark for five minutes, someone usually dies.

...That sounded like a joke, but also not really?

Exactly.

Okay, weird Shinto ninja boy. I’m hanging up before I accidentally learn something classified.

Wait—don’t you want to know how I exorcised a ghost using a vending machine?

That better be a metaphor for emotional growth.

It was a literal haunted vending machine. The chips were cursed.

Bye, Satoru.

Miss you already.

END OF CALL: 2 Mins, 39 Seconds

Call Satoru Gojo?

Taglist:

@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose @crybabyghostie

[nottellingofname]

Satoru Gojo Called For Help

Call #12 - Boy writes fanfiction? ☼

I’m bored.

...How did you get this number?

Caller ID.

It’s a company line. How did you even—

You called so many times, okay?! It just—happened. Like muscle memory. Don't make it weird.

...It's two in the morning.

Yeah. So why are you awake at two in the morning, huh?

...I could ask you the same thing.

I’m the helpline. It’s literally my job to be emotionally available at terrible hours.

Emotionally available, huh? Are you flirting with me, or trying to save my soul?

I haven’t decided yet.

...Bold of you.

Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing or do I have to guess? Sudoku? Crying in the dark? Rearranging your sunglasses by trauma level?

...I was writing something

Homework?

No. Not school-related.

...What, then?

...A book.

...Wait. You're writing a book?

Don’t sound so surprised.

No, I’m just—what’s the word—bamboozled.

Never say that again.

Fine, but seriously... that’s kind of awesome. Like, actual awesome, not sarcastic-awesome.

...I thought you’d laugh.

Nah. I save that for my own suffering. Besides, I write too.

Yeah, Twilight fanfiction. With… Aro and Carlisle in morally questionable situations.

Don’t come for Carlo, okay? Carlo is the forbidden romance the franchise needed.

...You fused their names.

I ship with passion, not logic.

You’re impossible.

And you’re a secret writer. So what’s it about? Your book.

...Nothing big. Just drabbles, short stories. I never finish anything longer.

Relatable. I started a fanfic in 2012 that’s still just a title and a moodboard.

...If I did write a full novel… I don’t know what it’d be about.

Come on. Not even a vague idea? Magic? Lost love? A hotline girl who won’t stop calling at ungodly hours?

...Nothing exciting ever happens in real life. It all feels... generic. Pointless.

Hey—nope. We’re not doing the ‘life is meaningless’ script tonight. That’s reserved for Thursdays and thunderstorm season.

It’s just how it feels sometimes.

And sometimes it feels like pizza is the only thing holding society together. Doesn’t mean you stop living. You find little reasons to keep going. And if it’s dumb, that’s even better.

...Like what? Vampires and fanfic?

Exactly. Chocolate, dumb songs, forbidden ships, decent people, and maybe someone who calls to bug you because she worries a little too much.

...Thanks.

...You gonna write that down in your book, or...?

Maybe.

ONGOING CALL: 28 Minutes, 34 Seconds

Call Satoru Gojo?

Taglist:

@pickledsoda @yamato-my-beloved @yoontaedotin @16thwriter @vehuzzzz @raining4food @sukunaslilsocks @sparqvls @nanamisss @frzzyhairr @blessedblemishes @oneofthesevensins @ppyn @blitziwitch @linaaeatsfamilies @qardasngan @tinawhynot @yuhig-blog @winkous-av @bellovesgojo @edensrose

[nottellingofname]

Me and who? Me and mr 7 inches (aka my delulu ass fake bf)

18+

you’re the kind of girl who overcommits.

warn you it’s too much, and you reinterpret it as provocation. insist you can’t handle it, and now it’s an imperative—tenacity verging on self-sabotage. some call it naïveté, pathological optimism, others plain hubris.

you prefer to think of it as ambition.

so when you first laid eyes on your boyfriend’s cock, fear didn’t enter the equation.

it’s profane, almost… anatomically satire, proportioned with the sort of excess that feels biologically improbable. hanging pendulous between his muscular thighs, thick veins laddering the shaft. when fully erect, it doesn’t stand so much as loom, weighty where it meets his pelvis. it doesn’t resemble anatomy so much as a weaponised reproductive organ.

toji observes you impassively. he’s seen the full spectrum of reactions: fascination, intimidation, nervous giggles. he expects you to pause, maybe offer some cursory remark about lube.

instead, you say, tone contemplative:

“i think i can take it.”

he guffaws—an incredulous, chest-deep sound.

“hate to break it to you doll, but that pussy’s gonna spit me out.”

you glare. “not if we practice.”

“practice,” toji repeats flatly. his hand coasts down your stomach, between your thighs, palm pressing into the puffy slick heat of your folds. “this isn’t a trial run,”

but you’re serious. dangerously so.

you begin riding him with ritualistic persistence—methodical, controlled descents. first just the swollen head. then an inch or two. then deeper. it’s excruciating. you mount him bare, palms planted on his toned abdomen, thighs shaking, jaw slack with concentration as your cunt tries to accommodate him. it’s never an easy fit. wetness doesn’t matter. neither do the fingers he feeds into you beforehand. your body clenches around him like it’s rejecting foreign matter, stretched to its threshold by thick, veined flesh that pushes into the delicate architecture inside you. the burn draws tears, always.

but like the little engine that could, you don’t stop trying.

“fuck,” toji grunts, watching your brows knit and jaw go slack as you take half of him. “you really tryna take the whole thing?”

a nod from you. and that vacant-eyed resolve stuns him into silence. he watches you with newfound respect.

after that, he begins training you in earnest: meticulous, disciplined work. his fingers press in knuckle-deep, rotating at the point where your resistance clamps tightest, coaxing that stubborn band of muscle into compliance. he tongues your clit with single-minded focus, keeps his hand moving until you shudder apart around him. once. twice. more. he uses your orgasms as leverage—softening your walls with overstimulation until your body stops resisting and starts adapting.

and still, he keeps going.

because somewhere along the line, it stopped being your fixation alone. now it’s his too. toji fucking loves it—your grit, your delusion, your refusal to concede. the dumb belief that if you commit hard enough, surely you’ll succeed.

god, he loves that.

“gonna fuck that stupid little goal right outta your head,” he smirks, cockhead wedged inside, purposefully keeping you on edge. “but keep tryin’, baby. see how far you get.”

so you do.

again. and again. and again.

until one night, breath stuttering, thighs drawn tight, tears streaking past your ears into the pillow—you manage it.

take all of him.

every excruciating inch.

for a perfect, suspended second, silence reigns. broken only by the slick, obscene sound of your cunt suctioned tight around him, and the low, stunned groan when his gaze drops down. your abdomen swells with the imprint of him, a thick, unmistakable bulge pressing outward beneath your navel.

“…fuck.” toji stares, wide-eyed—stunned, impressed, maybe even a little afraid. until you blink up at him, lashes wet as you slur dreamily.

“told you i could.”