Chapter Text
Now, onto Gojo's slander. *Your appetizer 🫕*
The narcissistic scammer with main character syndrome.
Listen. I was THIS close to sparing him, but then I remembered that he looks like the type to say "It's giving..." unironically.
This man smells like Dior Sauvage, heartbreak, and unpaid child support.
Y'all think Gojo's fine, and I get it. He's got the pretty privilege and the cocky charm. But let's be real—he's one bad day away from becoming a male prostitute.
You know this man doesn't do laundry. He just grabs shit out the hamper, sniffs it, sprays it with Febreze, and keeps it pushing.
You think he has a skincare routine? Nah. That's sheer genetics working overtime, because you know damn well he's washing his face with the same 3-in-1 body wash he uses for his hair, ass, and balls.
His diet? Strictly Red Bull, convenience store sushi, and the audacity to hit up any woman expecting a home-cooked plate.
Do NOT let this man lie to you. He would absolutely hit you with "Damn, that's crazy" mid-argument, gaslighting you and then change the subject to himself.
You think he's romantic? You think he dates women? He'd date you?
Ma'am, honey, sugar. Come closer.
No.
This man is in a committed relationship with his own reflection. I bet he stares at himself in the mirror for so long that his own reflection gets tired of his shit.
If Gojo had a choice between saving you from a burning building or saving his sunglasses, you're getting left for dead, bestie.
And just in case you survive? He's posting an "RIP, gone too soon 😔" IG story with your best selfie before you even make it to the ER.
And once he realized you made it out unscathed.
I just KNOW this man be squinting at himself, licking his lips, and rubbing his chin like he's in a 90s R&B music video... plottin... thinking about how to get with you while he's still laid up in another woman's bed.
He'll comment 'gorgeous 🥰' on your post, but THEN have the audacity to say 'But like...your foundation a little off tho 👀 just lookin' out for you'—like Sir, was that necessary? Just say I look good and go.
And don't even get me started on his financial decisions. He's the kind of man to own multiple luxury watches but still Zelle request you for $2.79 because you added an extra drink to the bill while he was in the restroom on a date.
He calls himself "Daddy" but has never been on time for a single commitment in his life.
And yet, somehow, he can still fuck.
But let's be clear—it's not because he's skilled. It's because he has the stamina of a hyperactive golden retriever and is too competitive to accept anything less than you sobbing and tapping out.
Sex with Gojo is a high-intensity cardio session. No breaks, no mercy. You're screaming into the mattress and he's grinning like he won a championship.
And if you try to catch your breath? He's smirking down at you, "Aww, you tired already? I thought you said you could handle me?"
He gets you to cum like six times out of sheer spite.
You're trembling, half-dead, legs useless, and he's standing over you, sipping Gatorade, flexing his abs in the mirror.
And the worst part? The dick is so good you still let him stay over.
Why? Girl you tell me? 🤨📸
Gojo would clown you all night, raw dog you into the fifth dimension, rearrange your guts with no instructions, and then the moment he sees you texting someone else—suddenly he's in his feelings.
He's hovering over your shoulder like, "Who's that? 😐"
He's side-eyeing your phone like, "Oh, so you just be entertaining everybody, huh? 🤨"
He's laying in your bed, butt ass naked ,sweaty, looking like he just won something, but now he's on his side, fiddling with the hem of the blanket, hitting you with that soft ass, "Sooooo... what are we?" 👀
Sir. YOU JUST HAD ME SPEAKING IN TONGUES AND NOW YOU WANNA BE SHY?! 😭
He just gave you the best dick of your life, had you limp and re-evaluating your life choices, but now he's laying there with his little pretty ass eyelashes fluttering, pouting like a child, waiting for validation.
You say, "Uhhh we chillin?" and now he's deep sighing, rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling like he's in a dramatic movie scene.
Then the next day, he posting himself lip-syncing 'Doing It Wrong' by Drake.
Like boy, if you don't—! 😭
Look...I'm sorry, but this man would be pacing in his penthouse at 2 AM, blasting Bryson Tiller, waiting for YOU to text first. Just EXTRA Light Skin, standing there, shirtless, arms crossed, staring out the window while it's raining overthinking...
He got every sad boy song on repeat, texting Nanami, “Bro... I think I love her.”
You KNOW Nanami left him on read or hit him with a "...Gojo, go to sleep."
Meanwhile, you’re sleeping peacefully, and this man is wide awake, staring at the ceiling, hand on his chest like he’s at his own funeral.
Then next week, he's talking about 'high-value men' and 'feminine energy' on his new Red Pill podcast. Talking about how these modern women don’t deserve him.
I could drag him all day, but I won't lie on his dick. And the only reason this manz makes it into my fanfics is because he actually keeps his ass clean... and possibly waxed.
