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poutysprouty · 1 month ago

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THIRST TRAPS FROM THE UNDERWORLD

masterlist

TRACK: SUGI

Stage Name: Sugi Birth Name: Suguru Geto Position(s): Producer, Vocalist, Creative Director Height: 185 cm (6'1") Nationality: Japanese Representative Emoji: 🖤 Fan Facts: - Known for his deep voice and calm, composed presence during interviews. - Produces most of the group’s darker tracks. - Always has his nails painted with black polish. Somehow his polish never chips. Won’t answer questions about what brand he uses. - Wears incense-infused bracelets. Rumor has it they're hand-made in Kyoto. - Shares mysterious glances with Satoru on stage that spark endless fan edits.

Demon Idol!Suguru who wakes slowly every morning. He stretches like a cat before sitting up in a bed of rumpled black sheets, surrounded by handwritten lyrics and charm-infused amulets.

Demon Idol!Suguru who lights a cigarette while still in bed every morning. Not because he needs to, but because the smell reminds him of rain and battlefields. He watches the sky change from ink to grey outside his window and murmurs the first line of a new song, already knowing it won’t leave his head for days.

Demon Idol!Suguru who doesn’t speak unless there’s something worth saying. In interviews, he leans back and answers just rarely enough to keep people hanging off his every word when he finally does speak. In rehearsals, he’s sharp with corrections but soft in tone. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t need to. Even Sukuna listens when Suguru critiques a beat drop.

Demon Idol!Suguru who is a tactician. Every stage, every step, every syllable is calculated. His past as a demon enforcer taught him precision, loyalty, and the cost of mistakes. He was once the Demon King’s favored tactician, known for turning wars with a single command. Now? He writes verses and watches the horizon for signs of collapse.

Demon Idol!Suguru who plays the piano late at night, alone, in a quiet room full of low lamps and incense. Satoru sometimes finds him there and leans on the doorframe with that crooked grin, and teases, “Trying to seduce me with minor chords again?” Suguru smirks without turning around. “You’re the one who keeps showing up.”

Demon Idol!Suguru who doesn’t fight unless there’s no other choice. But when he does? He’s damn near surgical. The others destroy with fury or flair. Suguru erases, like pulling threads from a tapestry. The last time a demon threatened Satoru during a solo shoot, it didn’t survive long enough to scream.

Demon Idol!Suguru who keeps an old note tucked in his wallet. It’s from a child he saved decades ago without meaning to, before he and the others rebelled. The boy had no idea Suguru was a demon. He called him an angel. Suguru never saw him again. But he still carries the folded paper. When things feel too heavy, he runs his thumb along the worn edges and reminds himself why he turned his back on Hell.

Demon Idol!Suguru who is the only one who reads the fine print of the contracts. The managers leave the paperwork to him now. He’s caught five clauses meant to bind them magically to the agency. When Nanami realized this, he didn’t ask questions. He just nodded. “Make sure we don’t get screwed.” Suguru had replied with a small smile. “We won’t. Not while I’m around.”

Demon Idol!Suguru who doesn’t call what he feels for Satoru love. Not out loud. It’s more like a gravity, a pull he’s never bothered to resist. They balance each other. Satoru makes him laugh. Suguru grounds Satoru when the chaos gets to be too much.

Demon Idol!Suguru who is the first to sense the veil thinning. His wards start to pulse. He wakes with nosebleeds and fragmented dreams. He doesn’t tell the others yet. Instead, he draws new sigils in salt and ink, places them beneath their beds, and starts writing a new song.

Demon Idol!Suguru who reacts to the news of the survival show with skepticism. “A distraction,” he says flatly, folding his arms while Sukuna scowls. “Or a trap.” But Satoru’s already pulling up the cast list, saying it might be fun. Suguru watches him with a flicker of something warm in his eyes. “If you get assassinated on camera, I’m not healing you this time.”

Demon Idol!Suguru who stays behind after the meeting, studying the show’s details while the others bicker. He knows better than to dismiss coincidences, especially now. A co-ed idol show debuting in the exact timeframe the seals are weakening? No such thing as luck. He’s halfway through building a protective ward matrix when Satoru barges in holding a tablet and acting like he’s in love.

Demon Idol!Suguru who doesn’t expect much when Satoru tosses the screen at him. “You gotta see her,” Satoru says, voice unusually serious. Suguru sighs, leans back, presses play. The performance is decent. But then she steps forward. Luna. Her presence shimmers like she’s full of magic not yet awakened. Something deep in Suguru’s chest goes still.

Demon Idol!Suguru who rewatches the clip in silence. Her voice awakens something long dormant inside him. Not demonic. Not divine. Something else. She’s not just an idol. She’s a thread in the tapestry. A variable he didn’t account for. And for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what that means or what to do about it.

Demon Idol!Suguru who finds Satoru later and hands him back the tablet. “You were right,” he says simply. Satoru grins. “I’m always right.” Suguru arches an eyebrow. “She’s not what she seems.” “Is anyone?” Satoru fires back, nudging his ribs. Suguru lets the smile linger this time. “This show’s going to change everything.”

Demon Idol!Suguru stands on the balcony that night, watching the city flicker beneath clouds. He traces her name into the condensation on his glass. “Who are you?” he murmurs to no one.

#geto x reader #geto x you #suguru geto #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader

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poutysprouty · 1 month ago

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THIRST TRAPS FROM THE UNDERWORLD

masterlist

TRACK: TORU

Stage Name: Toru Birth Name: Satoru Gojo Position(s): Center, Main Dancer, Lead Vocalist, Visual Height: 190 cm (6'3") Nationality: Japanese Representative Emoji: 🧿 Fan Facts: - Known for his chaotic energy, flirtatious interviews, and being the "fanservice king" of the group. - Always wears tinted sunglasses off-stage. No one’s sure if it’s fashion or if he actually has something wrong with his eyes. - Famously did an entire solo performance blindfolded and still nailed the choreo. - Is well-known to have a HUGE sweet tooth. - Gets scolded in every behind-the-scenes video for teasing Suguru.

Demon Idol!Satoru who arrives late to vocal training with a half-empty bubble tea in one hand and his sunglasses still on, despite it being indoors and fully overcast.

Demon Idol!Satoru who greets the staff with finger guns and a wink, tosses his coat over the nearest chair, and sings his scales perfectly while standing on one leg. “What can I say?” he grins, tongue pressed to his teeth, “I'm built different.” They don’t know he was in a bloodstained alley two hours ago, burning a demon into ash behind a parking garage.

Demon Idol!Satoru who flirts with everyone. The barista who spells his name wrong. The stylists who roll their eyes but still blush. The intern who dropped a mic once and hasn’t recovered. It’s all part of the game: his charm, his deflection, his shield. Because it’s easier to make people laugh than to let them look too close at the thing behind his smile.

Demon Idol!Satoru who treats interviews like stand-up routines. Ask him about his skincare? “Virgin blood and SPF 666.” His favorite color? “The exact color of your eyes.” His dream vacation? “Anywhere you are, baby.” The fans love it. The execs hate it. Suguru calls him a menace. But sometimes, when he catches Suguru watching him from the corner of the stage, he lets the jokes slip into something warmer. Something almost real.

Demon Idol!Satoru who likes to annoy Sukuna because he’s the only one brave (or stupid) enough to do it. He'll drape himself across Sukuna’s lap in the middle of meetings, or purposely sing off-key just to watch him twitch. Sukuna never smiles, but Satoru swears he’s come close once. He knows Sukuna could kill him in an instant. But he also knows he won’t. Because he needs Satoru. Maybe even likes him. Not that he’ll ever admit it.

Demon Idol!Satoru who shares a secret language with Suguru that consists of looks across the room, phrases murmured under breaths, touches that linger a second too long. When the tension in the room gets thick, Suguru always knows how to cut it, and Satoru always knows how to spin it into gold. Once, after a particularly messy mission, they stood on a rooftop in silence, blood drying on their shirts, and Satoru whispered, “Still not prettier than me.” Suguru had smirked. “Not a chance.”

Demon Idol!Satoru who wears glitter under his eyes and bandages on his fingers. He’s never seen without rings or layered necklaces, and half of them are enchanted to suppress his real power. He’s the light, the flare, the face. But beneath the rhinestones and glittering smiles is a creature who once burned cities to the ground because it was fun. These days, he only burns when he has to.

Demon Idol!Satoru who doesn’t sleep in his bed. He sleeps on the floor of the dance studio, on couches, sometimes curled up on Suguru’s side of the couch when they fall asleep watching movies. He says it’s because his bed is too stiff, but it’s really because his dreams come back when he lies still for too long. Dreams of the underworld. Of screaming. Of someone calling his true name.

Demon Idol!Satoru who sometimes climbs onto the roof at 2AM and turns on his phone flashlight just to make shadow puppets on the wall next to Sukuna’s meditation spot. “I made you a bunny!” he announces. “Its name is Sukunny.” Sukuna doesn’t respond. But the next day, Satoru finds a black origami rabbit on his pillow.

Demon Idol!Satoru is the first to say yes when Nanami mentions the survival show. “Cameras? Co-ed dorms? High stakes emotional tension with strangers? Count me in!” he chirps, legs kicked up on the armrest. Nanami glares. “This isn’t a joke.” Satoru lifts his sunglasses. “I know.” He still says yes.

Demon Idol!Satoru who is scrolling through the informational email that was forwarded to the group before Nanami finishes speaking. “4LUMINA?” he muses, spinning a lollipop between his fingers. “Sounds sparkly. I like sparkly.” Choso leans over his shoulder, murmurs something about the center girl being really good. Satoru hums and pulls up the video. “Let’s see what kind of light we’re dealing with.”

Demon Idol!Satoru who doesn’t expect to pause. But he does. Luna steps into the spotlight on the screen, voice trembling but clear. There’s something uncut about her, something raw. He leans forward, the usual smirk fading from his lips. “...Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, she’s gonna ruin me.”

Demon Idol!Satoru who watches the clip again. And again. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. There’s a sound in her voice, one he can’t place. Not holy, not demonic, but something other. “She’s dangerous. I’m already in love.”

Demon Idol!Satoru who bursts into Suguru’s room five minutes later, throws himself across the bed, and declares: “I found the one.” Suguru doesn’t look up from his book. “Which ‘one’ this time?” Satoru grins, upside-down now. “The one who’s going to ruin my entire life. And I can’t wait.”

Demon Idol!Satoru who spends the night watching every clip of Luna he can find. Performances, interviews, fancams. Not in a creepy way, he just wants to understand. Her eyes shift depending on the lighting. Her smile doesn’t always reach her cheeks. Her voice breaks sometimes. He thinks she’s the most interesting human he’s ever seen.

Demon Idol!Satoru who dreams of a girl dressed in moonlight. She walks barefoot across a glass stage. She looks up at him. She smiles. And for the first time in centuries, he doesn’t know how to brush off what he feels.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader

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poutysprouty · 1 month ago

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THIRST TRAPS FROM THE UNDERWORLD

masterlist

TRACK: RYO

Stage Name: Ryo Birth Name: Ryomen Sukuna Position(s): Leader, Main Rapper, Sub-Vocalist Height: 198 cm (6'6") Nationality: Japanese Representative Emoji: 🔥 Fun Facts: - Known as the “King of the Stage” for his intense charisma and intimidating presence. - Has a bunch of tattoos, most of which have never been seen in full. Is rumored to have one on his tongue, but nobody has been able to get close enough to confirm. - Writes aggressive, emotionally complex lyrics that fans call "Ryo's Confessions." - Refuses to use social media. - Once broke a mic during rehearsal and just walked off. The footage went viral.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who wakes before dawn, not because he has to, but because his body remembers what it was like to hunt before the sun rose. His room is silent save for the soft hum of the city beyond glass.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who trains in the dark, sweat dripping down his skin as he strikes the punching bags in the V4NTABLCK gym with his fists. The others are still asleep, the mortal world is just beginning to stir. But Sukuna is always ahead. Always waiting. Always preparing for the next battle, because demons don’t dream, and monsters like him don’t sleep easily.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who doesn’t listen to the music the producers send him. He rewrites his verses with bloodier metaphors, spits each line like it’s made of poison, and refuses to soften his delivery even when the stylists beg for something “just a little more mainstream.”

Demon Idol!Sukuna who is a weapon onstage. Bare-chested, sharp grin, eyes like a blade held to the throat of an industry that fears him. They package him as “dangerous,” but none of them truly understand how close to the edge he walks every day.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who eats in silence at the end of the long penthouse dining table while Satoru fills the kitchen with laughter and Choso makes tea. He doesn’t speak unless he needs to. If someone takes the last rice ball, he doesn’t complain, he just glares until it’s placed on his plate again.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who still wears his rings from the underworld, the metal etched with infernal glyphs, gifts from the Demon King himself. He used to take pride in them. Now, when he looks at them, he feels nothing but the weight of memory. They remind him of the things he destroyed, the centuries he spent gathering souls for a tyrant he once worshipped. He keeps them on anyway. Not as honor. But as punishment.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who never intended to betray the King. Not at first. He had been forged for war, created for death, a guard dog to the throne. But something in the way Nanami looked at him had shook him to the core. Sukuna doesn’t talk about it, not even to Toji, who suspects more than he lets on. But in quiet moments, with his fists split open and his chest heaving from exertion, Sukuna still hears the King’s voice in the back of his skull, promising vengeance.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who doesn’t trust humans. They’re too fragile, too noisy, too fickle. He thinks most idols are liars with pretty masks and saccharine dreams. But even he has to admit there’s something eerie about the way crowds scream his name. Their worship hums under his skin, almost like power. It doesn’t fully satisfy him, not really, but it’s a decent substitute for the soul-feasts he’s sworn off. For now.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who watches the others more than they realize. Toji sharpening knives in the dark. Choso humming lullabies in the laundry room. Satoru dancing with headphones in at 3AM. Suguru scribbling lyrics on napkins. He pretends he’s above them all, too old and too damned for their softness. But he knows their tells, their fears, their limits. Because if Hell returns—and it will—he’ll be the one to hold the line.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who meditates on the roof every night. He doesn’t call it meditation, of course, he just calls it breathing. But he sits cross-legged under Tokyo’s polluted sky, eyes closed, ears tuned to every sound. The veil is thinning. He can feel it. The wind tastes wrong. Something is coming. Something old. Something that remembers his name.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who laughs when Nanami first brings up the survival show. It’s not a kind laugh, no. It’s sharp, mocking, and cold. “You want me to live with four strangers, film 24/7, and pretend to be a normal idol while fighting off demons in secret?” he scoffs, voice low. But Nanami only looks tired, his faded exorcist tattoos glowing faintly under his cuffs. “Do it anyway,” V4NTABLCK’s manager and close friend sighs.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who doesn’t pack. He throws his things into a black duffel and growls at the interns who come to move the rest. He doesn’t need comforts. Doesn’t need cute posters or incense like Choso, or backup sunglasses like Satoru. He needs his blades. His boots. And maybe, maybe, the ragged hoodie that still smells faintly of hellfire. Just in case.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who stares at the list of the co-ed cast with narrowed eyes. The group name, 4LUMINA, irritates him for reasons he can’t explain. He’s already dreading the fake smiles, the forced interactions, the overly-sweet voices. He’s met idols like that before. Empty, vacant, craving attention like demons crave souls. He’s already decided he’ll keep his distance. He doesn’t need any more distractions.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who is ignoring the profiles when Satoru kicks open the door and tosses a tablet at him. “You need to see this one,” he grins. Sukuna catches it with a growl, ready to snap at him, but the what’s on the screen catches his attention. It’s a performance clip. A girl stepping forward into the spotlight. Pale outfit, steady gaze, and a voice that rings. No auto-tuned. Not masked.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who forgets to breathe for a moment. He’s not impressed by beauty. That’s not what this is. It’s something deeper, older. Something he hasn’t felt since the first time he touched a sacred flame and didn’t burn. He watches again. And again.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who doesn’t understand why his hands are clenched. He rewatches her final note. The way she closes her eyes. The echo that follows. He’s seen thousands of mortals sing. But this one is different. She is different.

Demon Idol!Sukuna who locks his jaw when Satoru teases him about “crushing already.” He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t blink. But later, when the dorm is dark and the others are sleeping, he pulls up her profile again. Y/N L/N. Stage name Luna. Center of 4LUMINA. Sweet. Mortal. Untouched by real darkness. And yet, something in his soul sings when he sees her.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader

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poutysprouty · 1 month ago

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THIRST TRAPS FROM THE UNDERWORLD

Not everything that glitters onstage was born in the light.

pairing/ship: Multi JJK Men x Reader

word count: 0.0k [ Ongoing ]

a/n: Yes, this fic is inspired by K-Pop Demon Hunters. I saw a Sukuna edit to 'Your Idol' and immediately stopped thinking about anything else.

synopsis: In a bold move to shake up the J-pop scene, a new co-ed reality show throws two idol groups—one still rising, one legendary—into the same house for months of filmed training, challenges, songwriting, and behind-the-scenes chaos.

For Y/N L/N, known onstage as Luna, it’s the chance of a lifetime. Her group, 4LUMINA, is still climbing, hungry for exposure, growth, and maybe even an international debut. But the spotlight soon shifts when she finds herself caught in the intense gazes of V4NTABLCK, the reigning kings of the idol world.

They're beautiful. Charismatic. Larger than life. And not remotely human.

V4NTABLCK isn’t just a global sensation, they’re demons. Real ones, with bloodstained histories, ancient power, and an unnatural fixation on her they don’t bother hiding.

As cameras roll and tensions rise, the stage becomes a battlefield. Secrets unravel beneath the glitter. The underworld begins to stir. And Luna must choose whether to step back into the shadows, or stand center stage and face the fire.

content: Idol AU, J-Pop Industry, Demon AU, Reverse Harem/Polyamory, Violence, Blood and Gore, Demonic Imagery & Themes, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive/Overprotective Love, Toxic Relationship Elements, Non-Human Morality (they’re demons with very grey morals), Mild Stalking Behavior (by love interests), Power Imbalances, Implied Soul-Bonding, Nightmares/Visions/Flashbacks, Mild Body Horror, Mention of Past Imprisonment/Torture, Sexual Content & Suggestive Themes, Religious Elements, Apocalyptic Threats

ao3 | playlist

BEGINNING: V4NTABLCK

RYO | TORU | SUGI | KOSO | STYX

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5

TAG LIST: Closed. I'm sorry, I really don't like doing tag lists.

all dividers made by me @/poutysprouty. please do NOT use.

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poutysprouty · 1 month ago

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glowing eyes demon,,,yea,,

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poutysprouty · 1 month ago

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loserboycore

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poutysprouty · 2 months ago

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BEFORE THE FINAL CURTAIN FALLS

masterlist | word count: 4.6k

CHAPTER 10: BE QUIET AND DRIVE

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD. 18+ ONLY, MDNI.

Satoru finally collapsed into his bunk at the back of the tour bus, muscles aching and mind buzzing after the long, chaotic day. The bus was rocking gently as it cruised down the highway. He’d spent most of the day chasing after Yuji and Megumi. Yuji had insisted on dragging Satoru into every game and dance, and even Megumi was beginning to let his guard down, offering tentative smiles and curious glances.

Satoru rubbed his sore knees, remembering how Megumi had slowly eased out from behind Toji’s leg, even daring to let Satoru ruffle his hair once or twice. The warmth from those moments stayed with him now, softening the edges of his exhaustion. But then, reality hit in the form of a sharp reminder from his bladder that he’d been putting off for far too long.

Suppressing a groan, Satoru carefully slid out of his lower bunk and stood up. The cool air of the bus hit his bare arms as he stepped down the narrow aisle. The soft glow of the small nightlights cast long shadows along the walls. His feet padded quietly against the worn carpet as he made his way to the cramped bathroom at the rear.

When he was done with his business, he started to head back toward his bunk, his muscles still sore and body craving rest, when a faint noise caught his attention. The soft murmur of voices? No, that wasn’t right. Everyone else was supposed to be asleep, or so he thought.

A spark of curiosity flared inside him. He glanced down the aisle toward the door leading to the back lounge.

Satoru’s footsteps were hesitant as he made his way toward the lounge, his hand gently pushing open the door. The faint glow from the television flickered across the room, casting uneven shadows on the carpet and walls. There, stretched out on the cracked leather couch, was Sukuna. The cigarette he held between his fingers sent thin streams of smoke curling upward, twisting and dissolving into the still air like lazy ghosts.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes lifted the moment he noticed Satoru’s presence. His gaze locked onto Satoru’s with an intensity that made Satoru’s pulse leap, and a slow, mischievous smirk crept across Sukuna’s lips. Satoru felt something stir deep inside him: a mix of nervous anticipation and burning desire.

Without uttering a word, Sukuna lifted his hand toward Satoru, fingers curling invitingly. The tiredness that had been dragging at Satoru all day suddenly vanished, replaced by a thrill of electricity humming beneath his skin.

He stepped fully into the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him. His heart hammered in his chest as he lowered himself onto the couch, settling beside Sukuna. The old cushions gave way beneath them, muffling the sound of their movements.

The only noises in the room were the soft hum of the television and the occasional crackle of Sukuna’s cigarette burning down in his fingers. Neither of them spoke at first. Satoru’s hand moved almost on its own, brushing lightly against Sukuna’s forearm. The touch was shy and searching, but Sukuna’s smirk deepened in response. It was as if he was daring Satoru to go further.

Sukuna’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing. “You look like you could use a better way to unwind than sitting there all quiet.”

Satoru swallowed hard, his cheeks warming. “Yeah, well... It’s been a long day.” His fingers tightened slightly against Sukuna’s arm.

The rockstar chuckled softly, exhaling a lazy plume of smoke. “You’ve been spending all day with the kids, huh? Getting soft on me?”

“Maybe,” Satoru admitted with a shy smile. “Megumi’s warming up to me. Slowly.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “That’s surprising. I figured you’d have at least another week of him glaring at you the whole time.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve been bonding over Legos.” Satoru shrugged. “Anyway...” He hesitated, then looked up, meeting Sukuna’s gaze. “Thanks for waiting up. Honestly thought you were already asleep.”

Sukuna’s smirk softened, just a little. “Thought you might need a distraction.”

Without warning, Sukuna leaned in, closing the small space between their faces. His lips pressed firmly against Satoru’s. The kiss was messy, lips parting and tongues tangling in a heated dance. Sukuna’s teeth grazed Satoru’s bottom lip, making him gasp softly, his whole body shivering.

Satoru’s hands rose to clutch Sukuna’s shoulders, gripping tightly as if anchoring himself to the moment. “Fuck,” he breathed against Sukuna’s lips.

Sukuna’s hands slid down Satoru’s back, fingers trailing lightly at first, then gripping with more urgency. “You like that?” he murmured between kisses, voice rough with hunger.

Satoru nodded, his breath hitching. “Yeah. God, yes.”

Sukuna tugged Satoru closer until he was straddling Sukuna’s lap, their bodies pressed together. Sukuna’s hands roamed freely beneath Satoru’s shirt, fingertips skimming warm, bare skin, memorizing every curve and contour. One hand slipped lower, slipping under the waistband of Satoru’s pants, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Sukuna breathed against Satoru’s ear, his voice rough and thick with desire.

The low rasp of his words sent a shiver racing through Satoru’s entire body, goosebumps rising on his skin. His hands slid higher into Sukuna’s pink hair, fingers threading through the silken strands, pulling him impossibly close. “Don’t stop,” he whispered, voice already trembling.

Sukuna’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating between them. “Not planning on it, pretty boy.”

The dim lounge was wrapped in shadows, the only light coming from the muted television screen casting faint flickers across their skin, adding a strange glow to Sukuna’s inked arms and sharp features. Smoke from the cigarette curled lazily upward, coiling through the air, adding to the weight of the night.

Sukuna’s mouth descended again, lips crashing into Satoru’s. Their kiss was slower now, but deeper, messier, their tongues tangling as Satoru moaned softly into him. The couch creaked faintly beneath their weight as Sukuna’s strong hands roamed, fingertips ghosting up beneath the hem of Satoru’s shirt, mapping every inch of skin.

Satoru gasped softly when Sukuna’s thumb dragged across his nipple, the light pressure sending sparks to ripple up his spine.

But then, breaking the kiss with a breathless hitch, Satoru panted, “Wait, the rules… No fucking on the bus, right?”

Sukuna paused, crimson eyes glittering in the dim light as a wicked grin pulled at his lips. “Only in the bunk area,” he purred, voice low with amusement. “The lounge doesn’t count. As long as you can keep that sweet little mouth of yours quiet, we’ll be just fine.”

Satoru flushed, cheeks burning, but the heat surging inside him drowned any hesitation. His lips curved into a shaky grin as he leaned forward, eyes sparkling with reckless excitement. “Then shut up and kiss me.”

Sukuna’s laugh was short before their mouths crashed together again, more desperate this time. The weight of the night pressed around them like a heavy silk curtain. Outside, the world continued on, oblivious. Inside, Satoru could feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears, feel the smooth warmth of Sukuna’s hands dragging his shirt slowly upward, baring inch after inch of flushed skin.

Sukuna eased him back onto the couch, never breaking their kiss, his body heavy and firm as it pressed Satoru into the soft leather cushions. His hands roamed freely now, palms skimming over Satoru’s exposed chest, fingertips playing with each nipple, rolling and pinching them just enough to make Satoru whimper into his mouth.

“You’re so damn sensitive,” Sukuna murmured against his lips. “I love how easily your body responds to me.”

Satoru whimpered again, his hips arching up into Sukuna’s solid frame, seeking friction. His breath came in shallow gasps as Sukuna’s mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat, teeth grazing tender skin before biting down just hard enough to leave another mark.

“Such a good boy,” Sukuna growled, his breath hot against Satoru’s flushed skin. His lips dragged lower, grazing Satoru’s collarbone, his teeth nipping at the tender flesh. His hands roamed freely, stroking and teasing, tracing the path of each sharp inhale beneath his touch. One palm slid along the waistband of Satoru’s pants, his fingers dipping just beneath the elastic, a slow tease that made Satoru arch into him.

The words burned into Satoru’s mind, making his breath hitch, his body trembling beneath Sukuna’s touch.

“I-I want you,” Satoru whispered, barely able to catch his breath, his voice coming out urgent. His hands tangled into Sukuna’s hair, gripping the silky strands tight, as if afraid the man might pull away.

Sukuna’s mouth curled into a wicked grin against his skin. “I know you do, baby,” he rasped. His hand slipped deeper into Satoru’s pants, closing around his length. The first slow stroke was enough to make Satoru gasp sharply, his hips bucking into Sukuna’s grip despite himself. The way Sukuna’s rough fingers worked him, gently at first, made his body tremble, his thighs clenching with every rising wave of pleasure.

Sukuna watched him with greedy, dark eyes. His thumb teased the sensitive tip, slow circles pulling whimpering sounds from Satoru’s throat. Satoru’s head fell back against the couch, mouth parted, eyes glassy. His hands slid down Sukuna’s strong shoulders, fingers flexing as though trying to ground himself through the overwhelming heat building inside him.

Sukuna leaned in again, catching Satoru’s lips in a desperate kiss. Sukuna’s hand never stopped moving between them, his strokes slow and controlled even as the kiss turned heated and sloppy.

Breaking away just enough to speak, Sukuna murmured against his lips, “You want me to fuck you right here, pretty boy? Right here on this couch while everyone else is sleeping?”

The words made Satoru whimper, his eyes fluttering open. The thrill of getting caught, of doing something so reckless, sent a sharp bolt of heat straight through him. He nodded quickly, voice barely steady. “Yes, please.”

Sukuna’s grin sharpened. “Good boy.”

In one swift motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Satoru’s pants and yanked them down, boxers and all, leaving them in a tangled heap on the floor beside Satoru’s discarded shirt. The cool air of the lounge kissed Satoru’s bare skin, making him shiver under the sudden exposure. The fabric rasped along his legs as it was stripped away, leaving him entirely naked, spread out beneath Sukuna’s weight.

Satoru’s breath caught, his cheeks flushed hot as he became fully aware of just how vulnerable he was. Sukuna, still fully dressed, loomed over him like a predator savoring the sight of his prey. The contrast between them made Satoru’s stomach flip, nerves and arousal tangling together.

Reaching beneath the cushion like he’d done this a hundred times before, Sukuna retrieved a small bottle of lube tucked discreetly between the seat and armrest. Of course he had it ready. The sight alone made Satoru’s stomach flutter with a strange mixture of excitement and nerves.

Sukuna worked quickly, slicking his fingers before parting Satoru’s thighs wide, exposing him fully to the cool air. The sudden contrast made him shiver, though it was nothing compared to the warmth of Sukuna’s fingers as they pressed inside him.

The first intrusion pulled a sharp gasp from Satoru’s lips. His hands fisted into Sukuna’s shirt, knuckles whitening as he tried to breathe through the stretch. But Sukuna was patient, working him open slowly, carefully. His fingers twisted and curled inside him, brushing against sensitive spots that made Satoru’s legs twitch involuntarily.

“You take my fingers so well,” Sukuna praised, his voice little more than a gravelly purr. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock again.”

The pace continued, Sukuna’s fingers scissoring and stretching him, drawing broken moans from Satoru’s lips that he struggled to bite back. The only sounds were the wet slide of Sukuna’s hand, Satoru’s breathless whimpers, and the distant hum of the bus engine vibrating gently beneath them.

Finally, Sukuna withdrew his fingers, earning a soft, disappointed whimper from Satoru at the sudden emptiness.

“Ready?” Sukuna whispered, already freeing himself from his pants with one hand, his cock hard and heavy in his palm as he slicked himself.

“Y-Yeah… please—”

“Shh,” Sukuna hushed him gently, leaning in to kiss him again as he positioned himself between Satoru’s thighs. “Just relax for me.”

The tip pressed against him, and Satoru sucked in a breath, body tensing as Sukuna began to push inside. The stretch was thick, burning at first, and his nails dug into Sukuna’s arms as he panted through it.

“That’s it, baby,” Sukuna groaned into his ear. “Take it. Take all of me.”

Satoru whimpered, his body gradually yielding, the sharp burn giving way to an intoxicating fullness that made his back arch. His head spun, eyes fluttering closed as Sukuna sank in deeper, inch by torturous inch.

The moment Sukuna bottomed out, he stilled, letting Satoru breathe through the dizzying sensation. “Fuck, you feel perfect.”

Sukuna’s pace started slow but gradually grew heavier, his hips snapping forward with deep thrusts that had Satoru gasping. But then he slowed again, pulling nearly all the way out, pausing to savor the whimper that escaped Satoru’s swollen lips.

Before Satoru could catch his breath, Sukuna shifted his grip, sliding his hands beneath Satoru’s thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifted Satoru’s legs up and draped them over his broad shoulders, leaning down a bit to fold him nearly in half. Satoru let out a gasp, hands coming up to grab Sukuna’s shoulders. The new position left him wide open, completely exposed, and Sukuna's cock angled even deeper inside him.

The stretch was overwhelming, and for a moment Satoru couldn’t breathe, his nails digging into Sukuna’s skin as his head tipped back against the couch cushions. Sukuna leaned in, his chest pressing flush to Satoru’s as he rocked his hips forward, sinking back inside.

“F-fuck—” Satoru whimpered, voice trembling.

“That’s it, baby,” Sukuna growled low, his lips brushing against the shell of Satoru’s ear. “You can take it. God, you’re so fucking tight.”

He began to move again, starting with slow, grinding thrusts that forced Satoru to feel every inch. His cock dragged perfectly against that tender, spongy spot deep inside, and Satoru's legs quivered where they rested on Sukuna’s shoulders. The sensation was overwhelming—too much, yet not enough. His breath came in ragged little moans that only seemed to fuel Sukuna’s hunger.

“You feel that?” Sukuna murmured, voice thick with dark amusement. “I can feel you squeezing me. So desperate for it.”

Satoru couldn’t speak, could barely think, lost in the rhythm of Sukuna’s thrusts. He nodded weakly, biting his lip to keep the needy sounds from spilling out, but Sukuna wasn’t having that. One of his hands slipped from Satoru’s hip and traced up his throat, fingers curling lightly around his neck, applying just enough pressure to make Satoru’s eyes flutter open in surprise.

“Let me hear you,” Sukuna growled. “Don’t hold back.”

The hand at his throat sent a rush of heat through Satoru’s belly. “F-feels so fucking good, S’kuna.”

“That’s my good boy,” Sukuna rasped, his eyes burning as his thrusts grew faster, sharper. The couch groaned beneath them, rocking with the force of Sukuna’s movements as Satoru’s whimpers turned into high, breathy moans.

Satoru’s hands scrambled along Sukuna’s back, fingernails digging into taut muscle as his entire body quivered. Every thrust forced him deeper into the couch cushions, folding him even tighter, making him feel utterly consumed.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” Satoru whimpered, voice breaking on the words as his hips instinctively rocked up to meet Sukuna’s punishing rhythm.

“I know, baby. I know,” Sukuna growled, voice a husky rasp against Satoru’s flushed cheek. “You love every inch, don’t you? You’re taking me so well. Just like you were made for this.”

Satoru let out a breathless sob of pleasure, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as his entire body trembled with the weight of it all. Sukuna’s thumb brushed along Satoru’s jaw before he leaned down and captured his lips in another bruising kiss, Sukuna swallowing Satoru’s moans like he couldn’t get enough of them.

The slight shift in angle made Sukuna’s cock drag over Satoru’s prostate again with every hard thrust, and Satoru broke the kiss with a strangled cry, his head tipping back against the cushions, mouth falling open in a silent moan as his vision blurred.

“There it is,” Sukuna purred, eyes glittering with dark satisfaction. “Right there, huh? You love it when I fuck you this deep.”

Satoru could only nod frantically, his words lost to the overwhelming pleasure. His toes curled, thighs trembling around Sukuna’s shoulders as every nerve in his body lit up. His cock throbbed between them, neglected but leaking steadily as the pressure inside him coiled tighter and tighter.

Sukuna’s hand slid down, wrapping firmly around Satoru’s neglected length and stroking him in time with his thrusts. “Cum for me, baby.”

It was all Satoru needed.

With a broken cry, his back arched, thighs quivering as his orgasm tore through him like a lightning strike. His release painted his stomach, his entire body convulsing beneath Sukuna’s weight as his mind splintered apart in waves of ecstasy.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Sukuna groaned, hips snapping harder, chasing his own end as Satoru’s spasming walls clenched around him.

“G-God, S’kuna,” Satoru whimpered through the aftershocks, barely able to speak as his body trembled with oversensitivity.

Sukuna's breath hitched, his rhythm faltering briefly before he buried himself one last time, hips grinding deep. A groan ripped from his throat as he spilled inside Satoru, filling him with hot pulses that seemed to go on forever, thick and heavy inside him. His body trembled slightly with the force of his climax, his breath ragged against Satoru’s damp skin.

Finally, Sukuna exhaled a shaky breath and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Satoru’s temple. He spoke with a teasing lilt to his voice, “You’re gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.”

Satoru gave a weak, breathless nod, lips curling into a lazy, blissed-out grin. “Worth it.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

The gentle sway of the bus was oddly soothing as the morning sunlight filtered in through the half-drawn blinds. The low hum of the tires on asphalt created a steady rhythm beneath the cheerful voices of the cartoon playing on the mounted TV in the front lounge. Satoru sat at one of the small tables near the window, cradling a bowl of cereal between his hands, absentmindedly spooning mouthfuls into his mouth as his gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the TV screen.

The sugary crunch of the cereal barely registered as his mind wandered, lost in the hazy recollection of the night before.

The memory was still vivid, how Sukuna had pulled him onto the couch in the darkened back lounge, his touches rough and possessive, his lips trailing fire across Satoru’s skin. The desperation, the way Sukuna had folded him in half and made him take every inch until he was nothing but a trembling, breathless mess. The heat of Sukuna’s breath against his ear, the weight of him pressing Satoru down into the cushions. Every vivid detail still hummed through his veins.

Afterward, once he had finally gathered the strength to pull his clothes back on, Satoru had slipped out of the back lounge on shaky, wobbly legs. He had barely managed to stumble back to his bunk beneath Sukuna’s before collapsing face-first into the thin mattress, exhaustion pulling him under almost instantly.

He vaguely remembered stirring at some point, half-conscious, as he heard Sukuna finally climb into his own bunk above him. The bunks were barely big enough for Satoru himself to stretch out in, so the image of Sukuna squeezing into that narrow space made Satoru let out a muffled snort even through his drowsy haze.

“How the fuck do you even fit up there…?” he’d mumbled into his pillow, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud.

He heard Sukuna chuckle softly, voice low and amused. “Talent,” Sukuna had murmured in response, though Satoru was already slipping back into sleep before he fully processed the reply.

Now, in the warm morning light, Satoru blinked slowly. His spoon idly stirred the remnants of his cereal as he pulled himself back into the present moment.

In front of him, on the long sofa that ran along one side of the lounge, Yuji was curled up contentedly in Jin’s lap, the little pink-haired boy snuggled against his father’s chest with heavy-lidded eyes, still watching the colorful characters bouncing across the screen. Jin’s arm was wrapped protectively around his son, but his own gaze was completely locked on the cartoon, utterly entranced by whatever antics the animated dogs were getting up to.

On the other side of the couch, Megumi was tucked neatly into Toji’s lap, his tiny black head of hair barely peeking above the blanket that was pooled around them both. Unlike Jin, Toji wasn’t nearly as awake. His head was tilted back against the couch, mouth parted slightly, dead asleep. Megumi blinked sleepily up at the TV, occasionally letting out little hums of amusement at the show, but otherwise content to simply stay curled against his father.

The whole scene was so domestic that it made Satoru’s chest ache in a strange way. The quiet of the morning seemed to wrap around him like a soft blanket, grounding him even as his thoughts still buzzed with the lingering traces of Sukuna’s rough hands and low growls in his ear.

Satoru sighed softly, setting his empty bowl aside and leaning his elbow against the table as he watched the peaceful moment unfold. He wasn’t entirely sure where he fit in with all of this yet, this odd little family that somehow included four rockstars, two toddlers, and a tattooed monster of a frontman who fucked him senseless at night.

The peaceful quiet of the bus shifted with a soft creak from the bunk area. Satoru’s gaze flicked toward the sound just in time to see Sukuna shuffle into the front lounge.

He was dressed in nothing but a pair of low-slung black sweatpants, the waistband riding sinfully low on his hips, exposing the intricate tattoos snaking along his sides and stomach. One broad hand scratched absently at his toned abs as he yawned, his chest rising and falling with the breath. His pink hair was a messy halo atop his head, falling wildly across his forehead and sticking up in places.

His crimson eyes were still half-lidded, glassy with sleep as he blinked toward the living area, slow and heavy-footed as he padded barefoot into the lounge.

Yuji’s head perked up immediately, his tired pout transforming into a bright, eager grin. “Morning, Unckuna!” he chirped.

Sukuna let out a low grunt, too tired to muster words, though there was the faintest curve of amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth as he lazily raised a hand to ruffle Yuji’s hair on his way by.

Satoru bit his lip, cheeks warming at how domestic the sight was. It was so different from the powerful, dominant force Sukuna had been the night before. Right now, he was just a sleepy rockstar trying to get caffeine and sugar into his system.

Without a word, Sukuna grabbed one of the cereal bowls stacked near the tiny kitchenette, lazily tipping a box of some brightly colored sugary cereal into it. Milk followed next, and then Sukuna turned, shuffling toward the table.

He dropped into the seat right beside Satoru, shoulders slouching, and exhaled a long sigh.

Satoru hummed softly, offering him a small, warm smile. “Good morning.”

Sukuna’s lips twitched into a smile as he leaned in closer, sleep still clinging to his words. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

Without any warning, Sukuna dipped his head down and nipped playfully at the sensitive spot just beneath Satoru’s ear. His teeth scraped lightly against the skin, his warm breath ghosting along Satoru’s neck.

Satoru flinched, a surprised giggle bubbling out of him as he instinctively hunched his shoulder up, trying to shield his neck from the teasing bite. “Hey!” he squeaked, laughing. “That tickles!”

Sukuna’s rough chuckle rumbled against his skin, deep and fond. “Yeah? That’s cute.”

The whole scene felt intimate despite the others still being present. Jin barely glanced away from the TV, entirely consumed by Bluey along with Yuji, while Toji remained fast asleep with Megumi tucked in against him, the toddler now nodding off as well.

Sukuna finally straightened back up, stirring his cereal lazily as he cast Satoru a sideways glance, his crimson eyes warm. “You sleep alright?” he asked, voice softer now.

Satoru’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah,” he said with a small, shy smile. “Better than I have in a long time.”

Sukuna grinned slowly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good.”

The hush of the morning was interrupted as the door to the bunk area slid open again. Uraume emerged first, dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, their platinum and pink hair pulled back into a low, messy bun. Close behind was Choso, who looked far less awake, his dark hair wild and falling into his eyes, heavy-lidded gaze barely focused as he shuffled forward.

Without saying a word, Choso dropped onto the floor right in front of the couch, sprawling onto his stomach. He propped his chin on his hands, eyes already locked on the Bluey episode playing. “What episode is it?” he mumbled.

“Camping!” Yuji chirped, bouncing excitedly on Jin’s lap, who didn’t even glance down, equally enthralled.

“Nice,” Choso sighed, settling in with a hum as though this were exactly how he planned to spend his morning.

Uraume, however, made their way to the small kitchenette, flipping on the coffee machine like they’d done it a hundred times before, which, to be fair, they probably had. The smell of fresh coffee quickly began to fill the lounge as they leaned against the counter, arms crossed while they waited for it to brew.

Finally, Uraume took their mug, steam curling into the air, and carried it over to the table, sliding into the seat directly across from Satoru and Sukuna. They took a long sip before speaking, their voice still slightly hoarse from sleep.

“How long do we have left until we stop?”

Before Sukuna could answer, Satoru spoke up. “The driver told me a little bit ago that we’re about two hours out from the next city.”

Uraume nodded. “Good. Enough time for me to actually wake up before the chaos starts.”

Sukuna leaned back slightly in his seat, eyes lazily watching the way Satoru fidgeted under the table. He reached out, letting his palm rest casually on Satoru’s knee beneath the table, thumb idly tracing light circles again. “Speaking of the next city…”

Satoru looked over, already half-dreading whatever Sukuna was about to say.

“Once we check into the hotel,” Sukuna continued, eyes gleaming, “I’m taking you shopping.”

Satoru groaned softly, head tipping back in mild protest. “Sukuna…”

“No arguments,” Sukuna said with a sly grin. “You need clothes, and you’re not spending this entire tour living out of that sad little backpack.”

Satoru grumbled under his breath but knew better than to argue too hard. “Fine,” he mumbled, cheeks warming under Sukuna’s steady gaze. “But only because you’re being annoyingly persistent.”

“That’s part of my charm, sweetheart.” Sukuna’s grin widened as his thumb squeezed gently Satoru’s knee. “You’ll thank me when you don’t have to keep washing the same two shirts every night.”

Uraume smirked over the rim of their mug, clearly entertained but wisely staying out of the banter.

In front of the TV, Yuji suddenly giggled loudly at something on the screen, while Jin and Choso both laughed along with him like they were just as invested in the cartoon as the child. The bus swayed gently with the movement of the road beneath them, the familiar hum of tires against pavement blending into the low murmur of conversation and TV noise.

#ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru #sukugo #jjk #sukugo smut

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poutysprouty · 2 months ago

Text

BEFORE THE FINAL CURTAIN FALLS

masterlist | word count: 3.6k

CHAPTER 9: EVERLONG

The drive didn’t take long. The towering glass skyscrapers slowly gave way to quieter residential streets lined with narrow apartment buildings and small corner shops. Sukuna idly scrolled through his phone, one arm draped loosely across Satoru’s shoulders the entire ride, his thumb occasionally brushing against Satoru’s collarbone in absent-minded strokes.

Satoru watched the familiar streets pass by, nerves beginning to creep back in now that they were getting close. The SUV pulled up alongside the narrow curb, the driver easing to a smooth stop. Sukuna glanced out the window at the apartment building, then back at Satoru.

“This it?” he asked.

Satoru nodded. “Yeah.”

Sukuna didn’t say anything at first, but Satoru could see his eyes glancing over the aging brick facade, the cracked sidewalk, and the rusted fire escape snaking down the side of the building. It wasn’t awful. But it was still a far cry from the luxury they’d just left behind at the hotel.

Without waiting for the driver, Sukuna climbed out first and came around to Satoru’s side, holding the door open for him. Satoru slid out, thanking him.

“Want me to come up with you?” Sukuna offered.

Satoru shook his head quickly. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just be a minute. I know where everything is.”

Sukuna hummed but didn’t press. He leaned against the side of the SUV, flicking his sunglasses down to cover his eyes and crossing his arms casually across his chest. Even out of stage gear, dressed simply in a black T-shirt, ripped jeans, and his signature boots, Sukuna carried an aura that made it hard not to notice him.

“Alright. Don’t take too long.” His lips curved into a smirk. “We’ve got a bus full of people who are very bad at being patient.”

Satoru laughed softly, nerves easing again at Sukuna’s teasing. “Got it.”

With that, he turned and jogged up the short flight of stairs, slipping inside the old building.

He hurried up the narrow, dimly lit stairwell, his footsteps echoing softly against the cracked concrete walls. At the top landing, he paused before the familiar scuffed wooden door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing his friend leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed and brows furrowed in suspicion. The soft overhead light caught the tired lines on his face, but his eyes were sharp, burning with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Where the hell have you been?” his friend asked.

Satoru stepped inside the cramped apartment, the familiar smells of old books, stale air, and a hint of lingering cigarette smoke hitting his nostrils. He made his way to the corner where his backpack sat slumped against the wall. He crouched down, fingers trembling slightly as he unzipped it, double-checking that everything he needed was there.

His friend moved silently behind him, blocking the doorway with a raised eyebrow that seemed to say you better start talking.

Satoru swallowed hard. He let out a slow breath and finally began, voice hurried as he spoke. “Okay, so, it’s a long story, but basically I went backstage at the MANIA concert.” He paused, biting his lip. “And then I met Sukuna. I slept with him. And now I’m going on tour with the band.”

His friend’s eyes widened, mouth slightly parted in shock. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Satoru nodded, the truth sinking deeper into his bones. Tentatively, he pulled down the neckline of his hoodie, revealing the vivid, purple-blue bruises and red bite marks along his pale skin.

His friend whistled. “Damn, man. You’re really living the high life now, huh? Getting wrapped up with the rockstar and all.”

Satoru’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the proud, almost shy grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Keep teasing me.”

He hoisted the backpack higher on his shoulder, the worn straps biting into his skin. Moving toward the door, he was met with a sudden seriousness in his friend’s voice. “Listen, just… be careful, alright? Don’t forget to check in every once in a while.”

Satoru’s smile softened, warmed by the unexpected concern. “I will. Thanks. For everything.”

With a final nod and a wave, he slipped out of the cramped apartment and back into the hallway.

Satoru practically flew down the stairwell, feet barely touching the steps as he took them two at a time. The rush of adrenaline humming through his veins made him feel weightless, like if he didn’t keep moving, he might actually float right out of his skin. With a short exhale, he shoved open the heavy front door and stepped back out into the sharp morning light, catching sight of Sukuna leaning casually against the glossy black SUV.

A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips, the tip glowing faintly orange as he exhaled a slow, steady stream of smoke that curled lazily into the morning air. One hand was holding his phone, typing. His free hand rested comfortably in the pocket of his jeans.

As Satoru approached, Sukuna lifted his head briefly, casting a glance in his direction before returning his attention to his phone. But then, after a brief pause, his eyes flicked back up, doing a double take that made his gaze narrow ever so slightly.

Sukuna’s eyes dropped to the single, slightly worn backpack slung over Satoru’s shoulder.

“That it?” Sukuna asked. He gestured with a small nod of his chin toward the backpack.

Satoru slowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how light the bag felt on his back. “Yeah,” he answered, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “That’s all.”

Sukuna let out a slow breath, the thin plume of smoke spiraling upward as one brow lifted. “That’s all?” he repeated, voice flattening with emphasis.

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, Satoru adjusted the straps on his shoulders, finding it hard to not feel embarrassed. “I… yeah.” He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to sound defensive. “I don’t really have a lot to begin with. When I’m not crashing at a friend’s place, I don’t exactly have anywhere permanent to stash things. It’s easier this way. Just the essentials, y’know?”

Sukuna let out a short, dry scoff and shook his head, pushing off the SUV and flicking ash onto the ground. “Jesus Christ.” He took one last drag from his cigarette before adding, “Alright. Remind me when we hit the next city. I’m taking you shopping.”

Satoru’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, no, you really don’t have to do that.”

Sukuna snorted. “Yeah. I do.”

“I’m serious,” Satoru tried again, feeling more self-conscious by the second, “I don’t wanna waste your money. I mean, whatever you buy me while we’re on tour probably won’t matter after anyway. It’ll just… get left behind.”

That brought Sukuna up short. He squinted, silent for a moment, and Satoru mentally hit himself with a wooden bat.

“You think I’m gonna fuck you for a few weeks and then just dump your ass back on the street like garbage?” Sukuna’s voice dipped lower, the words coming out slow.

Satoru flinched slightly, his mouth opening and closing as he scrambled for the right words. “I-I don’t know. I mean… I wasn’t sure. I didn’t wanna assume anything.”

Sukuna snorted, rolling his eyes. With a muttered curse under his breath, he wrenched open the SUV’s back door and gestured for Satoru to get inside.

“Tch. Don’t be fucking stupid,” he growled as Satoru climbed in. Sukuna slid in after him, slamming the door shut behind them.

“If anything,” Sukuna continued as the SUV eased away from the curb and merged into the flow of traffic, “Once tour’s over, I’ll put you up in your own place. Help you find a job or something. Whatever you need. I’m an asshole, sure, but I’m not that fucking heartless.”

Satoru blinked, heart catching in his throat. His lips parted slightly, but the words refused to come.

“Okay,” Satoru whispered. “Thanks.”

Sukuna didn’t reply immediately, but his hand reached over and settled on Satoru’s knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze that said more than words ever could.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

The drive back to the hotel took 20 minutes thanks to heavy morning traffic, but to Satoru, it felt like seconds. He tried not to let his imagination run too far ahead, but the thought of having somewhere steady to land after all of this felt like a security he hadn’t dared to hope for in years.

The SUV finally pulled up to the private side entrance of the hotel, where the band’s massive tour bus was now parked, idling along the curb. Satoru’s pulse sped up at the sight of it.

Sukuna was already moving, grabbing his bag and sliding out of the SUV. Satoru followed quickly behind, backpack slung over one shoulder, doing his best not to look as wide-eyed as he felt.

The bus door was open, and Choso was already standing at the top of the steps, sipping what looked like an insanely large iced coffee. He caught sight of them and lifted his cup slightly in greeting.

“Took you long enough,” Choso called down.

“Traffic,” Sukuna said simply.

Uraume’s head poked around from the front lounge, their icy gaze flicking toward Satoru. “Well, well, the stray kitten returns,” they said. “Ready to officially join the circus?”

Satoru huffed out a nervous laugh but nodded, trying to match their casual energy. “I guess so.”

Toji appeared next, stepping off the bus briefly to stretch. “If you can survive a week trapped on this rolling coffin with us, you might actually be built for this life,” he added with a lazy grin.

“Don’t scare him yet,” Jin chimed in from somewhere inside. “We need him intact or else Sukuna might blow a fuse.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes as he climbed the bus steps, jerking his head for Satoru to follow. “You assholes done?” he grunted, though the faint smirk curling his lips betrayed that he wasn’t actually upset by their words.

Satoru climbed in after him, stepping into the bus for the first time. He immediately blinked in surprise at just how nice it was. Plush leather seating lined both sides of the main lounge, sleek polished wood cabinets gleamed beneath recessed lighting, and a giant flat-screen TV was mounted above the front lounge area.

The rest of the band settled into various corners of the bus, finishing their coffees and chatting idly as they prepared to hit the road.

Sukuna dropped his bag onto one of the couches and gestured toward the back of the bus. “C’mon,” he said to Satoru. “Let’s get you set up.”

Satoru followed, heart pounding.

Sukuna guided Satoru toward the door at the other end of the front space, his hand resting firmly on the small of Satoru’s back.

“That,” Sukuna began, gesturing behind them with a sweep of his hand, “Was the front lounge. Where we spend most of our time when we’re not sleeping or on stage.”

Satoru’s nodded, glancing back over his shoulder to glance at it once again.

“Movies, gaming, arguing over stupid shit, or sleeping off hangovers,” Sukuna continued. “You’ll see it all in there. Some nights this place feels like a fuckin’ war zone. Other nights it’s dead quiet.”

Satoru couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t what he expected at all. It felt more like stepping into a high-end apartment than a tour bus barreling down the highway.

Sukuna chuckled softly, catching the awe in his expression. “Come on, you haven’t seen the fun part yet.”

Sukuna slid open a heavy door to reveal the bunk area. The space was dimmer here, lined with 6 stacked sleeping compartments on either side, only 2 rows high. Each bunk was its own small cocoon, complete with dark, heavy curtains meant for privacy and fitted with plush bedding, individual reading lights, and USB charging ports.

“These are the bunks. Everyone’s got their own. You’ll be sharing this space with us from here on out.”

Satoru ran his fingers along the edge of one of the bunks as they passed. They were tighter than a normal bed, but far more comfortable-looking than he’d anticipated. The thought of curling up inside one felt safe, like a private little nest.

“They’re small, but they do the trick. Privacy’s decent if you pull the curtain,” Sukuna went on. “But rule number one: no fucking in the bunk area.”

Satoru sputtered, covering his mouth as he blushed furiously. “O-okay, noted.”

Sukuna laughed at his reaction. “I’m serious. Last thing you want is to try and fall asleep to the sounds of somebody getting railed three feet away from you.” His grin widened, clearly enjoying how flustered Satoru was getting.

They reached another door, which Sukuna opened to reveal the back lounge. A large wraparound sectional sporting deep charcoal leather hugged the walls. Another oversized TV took up one end, paired with a sound system that looked state-of-the-art. Built-in cabinets housed shelves of liquor, snacks, and a few stray video game controllers.

“This is the back lounge. It’s usually where we come to decompress after shows, write, or just get away from each other before we start strangling one another,” Sukuna said, smirking over his shoulder.

Satoru nodded, still drinking in every inch of the space. As they looped back toward the narrow bathroom tucked between the bunks and lounge, Sukuna paused, tapping the door with two fingers. His tone grew a little more serious.

“Important rule number two: No shitting on the bus.”

Satoru blinked. “Wait, what? Really?”

Sukuna sighed dramatically. “Yes, really. The septic tanks on these things can’t handle solid waste. You’ll thank me for that rule when you realize how bad it can get if someone clogs the system halfway across the country.”

Satoru gave a sheepish laugh. “Got it. Crystal clear.”

Sukuna clapped him lightly on the shoulder, his hand lingering. “Rest of the rules are simple. Respect the crew, respect the band, don’t be a dick, don’t sneak off somewhere without telling me first. You stick close to me. You need anything, and I mean anything, you come to me first. Deal?”

Satoru swallowed, feeling that familiar nervous flutter of excitement rise again. “Deal.”

Sukuna’s eyes softened just slightly, and he smiled. “Good. You’ll get used to this life quicker than you think. It’s not as crazy as it seems.”

Satoru glanced around the bus again, trying to burn every detail into his memory. It still felt crazy, but it was a good kind of crazy.

As Sukuna and Satoru stepped into the front lounge of the tour bus, Satoru stopped short, his attention caught by the two small children now sitting on the floor in the middle of the lounge.

One of them had a head full of wild, fluffy pink hair, the same shade as Sukuna’s. He was crouched down, carefully stacking neon-colored blocks into a wobbly tower. Beside him, a smaller boy with a mop of thick black hair sat cross-legged, watching with the intense, narrowed focus of someone three times his age.

Satoru blinked, confused. But before he could say anything, the pink-haired toddler suddenly looked up. When his eyes landed on Sukuna, his whole face lit up like a firework.

“Unkuna!” the child squealed, abandoning his block tower with zero hesitation. He scrambled to his feet and darted across the lounge, his little socked feet skidding on the carpet before he crashed into Sukuna’s leg and hugged it tight.

Sukuna let out a short scoff, but his hand dropped to the boy’s head, ruffling the pink tufts of hair with rough affection. “Hi, brat,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching in a way that could almost be called a smile. “I see they let you out of your cell.”

The kid giggled at that, clinging tighter to Sukuna’s leg. Satoru blinked again, eyebrows lifted. “Wait, you have a kid?”

Sukuna gave him a look that said, absolutely not, and jerked his thumb toward the pink-haired toddler. “This one’s Yuji. He’s my nephew. Jin’s kid.”

As if on cue, Jin gave them a lazy wave. “He’s a menace. Clearly takes after his uncle.”

“And the other one?” Satoru asked, glancing toward the black-haired child who was now tucked quietly behind Toji’s leg. His small hands gripped the man’s dark jeans, eyes fixed on Satoru with the same wariness that a cat who didn’t like strangers would have.

“That’s Megumi,” Sukuna said. “Toji’s kid.”

“Really?” Satoru asked.

Toji grinned. “Sure is. Gumi’s a little shy at first, but don’t let that death glare fool you. He warms up eventually.”

Satoru smiled, crouching slightly to greet the kids, even if only one seemed interested. “Hi, Yuji,” he said gently. “I’m Satoru.”

“‘Toru,” Yuji repeated with a toothy grin, like he’d already decided they were going to be best friends. He turned and called out proudly, “Gumi, this is ‘Toru!”

But Megumi didn’t budge from behind his father’s leg. In fact, he scowled even harder. Toji chuckled, reaching down to nudge his son forward with a large hand on his head.

“C’mon, kid. Say hi like a normal person.”

Megumi immediately shook his head, darting back behind his father.

“Aw, c’mon,” Toji said, clearly amused. “You said hi to the weird guy at the gas station this morning.”

“That guy gave me a donut,” Megumi muttered from behind him, voice muffled.

Toji barked a laugh. “So that’s the bar now, huh?”

Sukuna exhaled a low chuckle, still watching the interaction. “They don’t usually come with us,” he explained. “Tour’s no place for kids most of the time.”

Satoru glanced between the two toddlers, one beaming up at him like they’d known each other forever, the other still firmly clinging to Toji’s leg like he might bolt if anyone moved too quickly. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

Sukuna shifted his weight, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Their nanny had a family emergency. We were about six shows deep when the call came in. Couldn’t exactly leave ’em, so we flew back, grabbed the brats, and they’ve been tagging along ever since.”

Satoru blinked. “You guys flew back just to get them?”

“Damn right we did,” Toji said, grinning as he ruffled Megumi’s hair, earning a quiet, annoyed noise from his son. “Ain’t leaving my kid behind when there’s nobody to watch him. The band can wait.”

Sukuna snorted, but there was an unspoken agreement in his voice when he added, “Family comes first. Always.”

Yuji had already settled back onto the carpet, happily stacking blocks again, while Megumi peeked out just enough to keep a wary eye on Satoru. The black-haired boy’s little scowl was fierce, but it only made him look more endearing.

Satoru smiled, glancing up at Sukuna. “Well... They seem to be adjusting okay.”

“Yeah, well,” Sukuna sighed, shaking his head, “Yuji’s easy. This one,” He jerked his chin toward Megumi, “Takes a little longer to warm up.”

“He’s suspicious of strangers,” Toji added, smirking.

Satoru flushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I am kind of the new guy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sukuna murmured with a sly grin.

Satoru rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. He moved closer to Yuji and crouched down beside him, watching as the little boy carefully stacked a bright red block onto the growing tower of colors. Yuji glanced up at him with a grin, his round cheeks dimpling.

“Look!” Yuji beamed proudly. “It’s gonna be the tallest one yet!”

Satoru smiled, leaning in a little. “It’s already taller than you, bud.”

Yuji giggled and balanced another block on top, wobbly but determined. “Unkuna said if it doesn’t fall, I get to smash it!”

Satoru glanced up, amused. “That sounds like something you’d say.”

Sukuna just smirked, unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers as he sat down on the arm of the leather couch. “What can I say? Gotta teach ’em the important things in life. Build it up, knock it down.”

Megumi was still half-hidden behind Toji’s leg, dark eyes watching Satoru like a tiny little guard dog. Satoru caught the glance and softened his smile, keeping his voice light.

“You don’t like blocks, Megumi?” he asked gently.

Megumi blinked, shifting a little. “I like Legos better.”

Toji let out a snort of laughter. “Kid’s already got expensive taste. Just like his old man.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Sukuna muttered.

Satoru tilted his head thoughtfully. “Legos, huh? Those were my favorite when I was your age too.”

Megumi’s little frown eased a little bit, as if Satoru had passed some tiny, unspoken test by saying the right thing. He didn’t say anything back, but he stopped hiding quite as much.

“See?” Toji chuckled. “He might let you live.”

Yuji abruptly looked up, eyes wide and sparkling. “Are you gonna ride the big bus with us too?!”

Satoru smiled brightly. “I sure am. Hope you don’t snore, though.”

“I don’t snore!” Yuji protested, scandalized.

Sukuna leaned forward, voice dropping in mock seriousness. “Kid, you snore like a chainsaw.”

Yuji gasped and immediately pouted, while Toji and Jin burst out laughing.

Satoru’s laughter mixed with theirs, the warmth of it all sinking into his bones. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d been an exhausted fan sneaking into a concert, completely unaware of how much his life was about to change. And now, here he was, being pulled right into the center of this weird, chaotic, affectionate little family.

“Alright, come on,” Sukuna said after a few more minutes of playful teasing, straightening up. “We’re pulling out soon.”

He reached down and gently tugged Satoru up by the hand, flashing him a quick wink. “Let’s get you properly settled in a bunk before the bus hits the road.”

As Satoru stood and followed him toward the back of the bus, he felt the slight buzz of nervous excitement humming in his chest. This was happening. He was really doing this.

#ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru #sukugo #jjk

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poutysprouty · 2 months ago

Text

BEFORE THE FINAL CURTAIN FALLS

masterlist | word count: 3.3k

CHAPTER 8: DIGITAL BATH

Satoru hadn’t stayed in many hotels in his life.

Well, okay, actually, calling his prior experiences “staying” was generous. Most of his encounters with hotels involved sneaking in just long enough to swipe some of the free continental breakfast before slipping back out unnoticed. He was familiar with the usual spread: plastic trays of slightly rubbery scrambled eggs, limp bacon strips curling at the edges, a self-serve waffle maker with sticky batter dribbled down the sides. Rows of mini cereal boxes lined up like little soldiers beside jugs of watery orange juice and lukewarm coffee. There were always kids darting around in pajamas, parents juggling paper plates, and the low hum of casual morning conversation.

But this… This was something else entirely.

The moment he and Sukuna stepped into the hotel’s breakfast area, Satoru’s breath caught. There wasn’t a buffet bar in sight. Instead, stretched before them was a full-fledged restaurant. One that looked far too expensive for something as mundane as breakfast.

The space was massive, drenched in soft lighting that reflected off polished marble floors so pristine Satoru felt guilty just walking across them. Sleek black tables, topped with crisp white linens, gleamed under the ambient light. Each table was set with polished silverware, porcelain plates, and glasses that looked thinner than paper. Tall-backed velvet chairs in rich shades of emerald and sapphire dotted the room, looking more like thrones than restaurant seating.

Staff in perfectly pressed uniforms moved smoothly between tables. The guests dining here matched the ambiance, dressed in designer clothes that probably cost more than Satoru’s entire net worth. Women with glossy blowouts and men in tailored shirts sipped cappuccinos, chatting softly as if this level of luxury was their everyday norm. No kids in pajamas. No waffle makers. No free cereal.

Satoru felt like he’d wandered into a world he didn’t belong to.

He stuck close to Sukuna’s side, every muscle in his body pulled tight with tension. His eyes darted around, catching disapproving glances that may not have even existed, but his anxiety told him that they were there all the same. He tried to walk naturally, to keep his head high, but he couldn’t shake the sensation that everyone in the room somehow knew he didn’t belong. That he was the stray mutt who’d followed a purebred into the private club.

Sukuna, of course, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

The rockstar strolled forward with ease, sunglasses still perched on the top of his head, exuding confidence as always. His presence belonged here.

Satoru, on the other hand, felt like a fish gasping on dry land.

He must’ve given himself away without realizing it, because the steady hand Sukuna still had planted on his lower back shifted, the broad palm moving in slow, lazy circles against the small of his spine. The gentle pressure was grounding.

Satoru let himself breathe just a little easier, leaning into Sukuna’s space a bit as they continued through the restaurant, moving toward a large private table tucked into a semi-secluded corner where the rest of the band was already waiting.

Sukuna’s hand stayed firmly on Satoru’s back as they stepped closer.

The moment the group noticed their arrival, each head looked over. The conversations quieted, replaced by curious eyes openly taking in Satoru’s presence.

“Morning,” Sukuna drawled as they reached the table. “Got someone new joining us.”

With a quick tug of his arm, he gently guided Satoru a step forward so he was fully in view. “Everyone, this is Satoru.” His voice was casual but firm, making it clear this wasn’t some temporary introduction. “He’s tagging along for the rest of the tour.”

Satoru gave an awkward, sheepish wave, feeling his face grow warm under the collective attention. God, why was everyone here so cool?

Sukuna gestured around the table, making quick introductions. Satoru already knew who everyone was, but he’d rather not embarrass himself by interrupting Sukuna and telling him that. “This is Choso, my cousin. He's on bass,” he said, nodding toward the man.

Choso gave a slow nod, his dark eyes calm and unreadable. His black hair was tied up in a loose bun, and the piercings in his eyebrow and lower lip gleamed under the soft light. “Hey,” he greeted simply, his voice low and smooth.

“Uraume, friend since highschool. They're on drums,” Sukuna continued, gesturing toward the pale-haired drummer. “They’re also the one that keeps us all from falling apart.”

Uraume grinned, flashing sharp teeth and a gleam of amusement behind their eyes. “Only because someone has no concept of pacing themselves,” they teased, giving Sukuna a sidelong look before turning to Satoru. “Welcome aboard.”

Satoru managed a small smile in return, his pulse still racing.

“Jin, my younger brother. Does lead guitar,” Sukuna said next, motioning toward the man lounging further down the table.

“‘Sup,” Jin offered with a lazy smirk, raising his coffee cup slightly in a mock-toast.

“And Toji, the bastard I grew up with. He's on rhythm guitar,” Sukuna finished, pointing to the man seated beside Jin. “Do me a favor and don’t listen to a goddamn word out of his mouth.”

Toji leaned back in his chair with a grin, folding his arms across his broad chest. His emerald green eyes gleamed with mischief as they landed on Satoru. “Huh. Bit younger than your usual taste, Ryo,” he drawled. “Finally robbing cradles now, are we?”

Satoru’s stomach twisted, face flushing a deep, mortified red. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out fast enough.

Sukuna barely even blinked. His eyes narrowed as he shot Toji a look sharp enough to cut through steel. “Shut the fuck up, Toji,” he grunted, voice flat with warning.

The amused snickers around the table quickly died off under Sukuna’s tone. Toji held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender but didn’t lose his smirk.

Satisfied, Sukuna pulled out the chair beside Uraume and dropped into it, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His fingers gave Satoru’s lower back one last reassuring press before sliding off as Satoru took the chair beside him. Now seated across from Choso, Satoru did his best to relax, though his skin still prickled with the lingering embarrassment.

“You’ll get used to us,” Uraume said. “We’re not that bad. Except for Toji. He’s always that bad.”

Toji grinned wider, raising his glass of orange juice as if in toast. “Guilty as charged.”

Despite himself, Satoru let out a small laugh. “Nice to meet you all.”

A server arrived with fresh coffee and menus. As they placed a steaming cup in front of Satoru, he wrapped his hands around it, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

“So,” Uraume said as they flipped through the menu, casting a curious glance his way, “How exactly did Sukuna here rope you into this chaos?”

Satoru’s mouth opened, but Sukuna spoke first. “I didn’t have to do much roping.”

A few knowing snickers rippled around the table.

Satoru’s cheeks burned. “Um... I met him after the concert last night,” he offered, carefully keeping his words neutral. “One thing led to another, I guess.”

“‘One thing led to another,’” Jin repeated, grinning. “Man, I don’t know if that’s the understatement of the year or if you’re just trying to spare us the details.”

Sukuna hummed around the rim of his coffee cup, a faint smirk curling on his lips. “You’re not getting any details, Jin.”

“Oh, come on,” Jin groaned dramatically.

“Let him breathe,” Choso interjected calmly, though his dark eyes never left Satoru. “He’s probably overwhelmed enough with the idea of being stuck with us for weeks.”

Satoru glanced at him gratefully. “I mean… a little,” he admitted, chuckling nervously. “But I’m excited.”

“You should be,” Uraume said. “It’s not all bad. Sometimes we actually get along.”

“That’s debatable,” Toji muttered under his breath, earning another round of light laughter.

The easy rhythm of banter settled around the table, and Satoru found himself relaxing a little more with every passing minute. The initial awkwardness was dissolving, replaced by an odd warmth. These people had clearly known each other for years. Their teasing was sharp, but it was affectionate underneath.

Sukuna’s hand landed on Satoru’s thigh beneath the table. His thumb traced idle circles against his skin through the fabric of his jeans.

“You’ll fit in just fine,” Sukuna murmured under his breath.

Satoru smiled softly, biting back the little flutter that bubbled in his chest at the simple gesture.

Satoru glanced down at the thick, leather-bound menu resting in front of him. His eyes skimmed the elegant typeface, but none of it looked familiar. The dish names were long, flowery, half of them in languages he didn’t recognize. French? Italian? Maybe something else entirely. This was not the kind of breakfast menu he was used to.

He furrowed his brows, flipping the page as if that would somehow make the options more understandable. No pancakes. No waffles. No scrambled eggs and bacon. Instead, there were words like crêpes Suzette, brioche pain perdu, shakshuka, and half a dozen variations of avocado toast that sounded more like gourmet science experiments than actual food.

Sukuna’s voice cut through his growing anxiety. “Don’t worry about paying,” he said, voice low enough that only Satoru could hear. “I’ve got it.”

Satoru chuckled under his breath, shooting him a grateful look. “That’s not really the problem, but… thanks.”

Sukuna arched a brow. “No? What’s wrong then?”

Satoru sighed, cheeks coloring slightly. He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to keep it between them. “I have no goddamn idea what any of this is.”

The bark of laughter Sukuna let out was low and rich. He squeezed Satoru’s thigh lightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’ve never eaten fancy hotel brunch before, huh?”

“Not even once,” Satoru admitted, giving him a small, sheepish smile.

Sukuna shifted, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Alright then. What do you like? What’s your go-to breakfast?”

Satoru rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed but smiling all the same. “When I was little, I loved pancakes. But only if they had chocolate chips in them.” He dropped his hand and mumbled, “Always kinda had a sweet tooth.”

Sukuna hummed, nodding like he was saving the information for later. “Good to know. Do you trust me to order for you?”

Satoru glanced up at him and nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

The server returned just in time, notepad poised. As everyone began rattling off their orders, Satoru caught himself listening more to the banter that had started up between Toji and Jin than paying attention to what Sukuna ordered on his behalf.

He didn’t even notice the server placing a glass of water in front of him, too distracted by the way the two men bickered like kids at summer camp.

“For the last time, Toji, no one gives a shit that your way’s more traditional. You’re not Gordon fucking Ramsay,” Jin snapped.

“Right, and your version’s ‘elevated,’” Toji shot back, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “Get the fuck outta here.”

Choso rolled his eyes and quietly sipped his coffee while Uraume muttered something under their breath about being stuck with a bunch of idiots.

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh. The easy rhythm of this group was surprisingly comforting. The longer he sat there, the more he realized how well they fit together.

The server disappeared with their orders, and conversation continued to flow again around the table. Stories from previous shows, backstage disasters, and inside jokes flew back and forth. Sukuna remained close, his hand never once leaving Satoru’s thigh.

Toji leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and fixing Satoru with a curious look.

“So, Satoru, right?” he began. “Since you’re gonna be riding along with us for the foreseeable future, what’s your story, kid? Besides your obvious taste in shit-ass company.” He gestured lazily toward Sukuna with a smirk, gaining a half snarl from the man in return.

Satoru flushed slightly but managed to keep his cool, leaning into the back of his chair. “Uh, not much to tell, really. I’ve been working whatever jobs I could find. Floating around. Trying to figure things out.”

Toji raised a brow, clearly expecting more. “No school? College?”

Satoru shook his head. “Didn’t have the luxury. Got out on my own pretty young. School wasn’t really in the cards.”

There was a brief moment of silence. Jin let out a soft whistle under his breath. “Shit. Respect, man. You’re still standing. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

Choso nodded quietly in agreement, his dark eyes surprisingly gentle as they studied him. “Sounds like you’ve had it rough.”

Satoru shrugged, giving them a small smile, trying to play it down. “I mean… It wasn't all bad. Learned a lot. Just had to figure shit out as I went along.”

“And somehow you still managed to find your way into the bed of the biggest dumbass in the world,” Uraume said, voice dry, a playful gleam shining in their eyes.

That set off a round of laughter at the table. Sukuna shot them a flat look but couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair, arm draped lazily along the back of Satoru’s seat, fingers idly brushing his shoulder.

“Hey, I prefer charming and irresistible, thank you very much,” Sukuna said with a low chuckle.

Toji snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. We all know you’re just easy.”

Satoru laughed, feeling the heat in his cheeks, but strangely, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy here, even with the teasing. He looked around the table and felt the oddest sense of belonging building in his chest.

“I guess you’re kind of like our new little mascot,” Jin said with a wink. “Don’t worry, we’ll break you in real nice.”

“You make it sound like a hazing ritual,” Satoru teased back, earning a round of laughter.

“Hey, we are a rock band,” Toji grinned. “Chaos is kind of our whole thing.”

Right then, the server returned, setting down their plates one by one. And when the final plate was placed in front of Satoru, his eyes went wide.

On the plate sat thick waffles stuffed with melted dark chocolate, their crispy edges glistening beneath a cascade of warm toffee sauce. A generous scoop of espresso gelato slowly melted over the top, pooling into the tiny waffle pockets. Shavings of dark chocolate and a sprig of mint finished the absurdly decadent dish.

Satoru’s jaw practically dropped. “Holy shit…”

Sukuna chuckled under his breath. “I asked them to make it special,” he murmured. “Since you said you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

Satoru giggled, trying to suppress the way his stomach flipped. “You keep this up, and I’m gonna owe you so much.”

Sukuna winked at him. “That’s kind of the whole point of spoiling you, sweetheart.” His hand gave Satoru’s thigh a little squeeze. “I get to see that pretty smile of yours, and you get to enjoy every second of it.”

Satoru’s face flushed pink at Sukuna’s words, but before he could stammer out some flustered reply, the rest of the table dug into their meals, and conversation temporarily quieted.

He glanced around, eyes skimming across the decadent spread laid before each member of the band. Jin had a thick, seared steak, cooked bloody rare, paired with a small mountain of truffle-dusted eggs and roasted potatoes glistening with oil and herbs. Toji had a towering plate of savory crepes stuffed with prosciutto and melted cheese, topped with a drizzle of balsamic glaze. Choso's plate held slices of smoked salmon fanned across artisan rye toast, topped with whipped mascarpone, thin cucumber ribbons, and delicate microgreens. Meanwhile, Uraume had a carefully plated Japanese-style breakfast set: grilled mackerel, miso soup, steamed rice, pickled vegetables, and a tamago omelet.

Satoru blinked. Compared to all of this, his own dessert-for-breakfast creation felt even more absurd, but holy hell, it smelled divine.

He finally dug in, cutting into the thick chocolate-stuffed waffle. The first taste exploded on his tongue, the bitter richness of the dark chocolate perfectly balanced by the creamy espresso gelato and the deep, buttery sweetness of the toffee.

A soft moan slipped past his lips before he could stop it. “Oh my god,” he mumbled around a mouthful, eyes fluttering shut. “This is… This is so good.”

Sukuna chuckled, clearly pleased. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Choso raised an eyebrow from across the table. “Damn, Sukuna. You trying to fatten him up or something?”

Toji smirked. “He’s compensating for something.”

Sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t need to compensate for a goddamn thing,” he shot back.

The teasing drew a few chuckles but soon faded as everyone focused on eating. Satoru stole little glances around the restaurant as he ate, still vaguely overwhelmed by the opulence of it all.

By the time everyone finished, plates scraped clean and coffee cups drained, the earlier tension that Satoru had carried with him into the restaurant had all but dissolved. He set his fork down and leaned back slightly, sighing in contentment.

Sukuna glanced at him “Good?”

Satoru nodded, grinning wide. “Good. Like, disgustingly good.”

Sukuna's hand slid a little higher under the table again, thumb brushing along the inside of Satoru’s thigh. “Good. I like you satisfied.”

The low rasp of his voice made Satoru shiver faintly, biting down on his bottom lip to contain the little spark that threatened to flare up in him again.

The scrape of chairs and quiet clatter of dishes signaled the end of breakfast as the group stood from the table, stretching and gathering their things. Sukuna slung his bag over one shoulder, his fingers naturally drifting back to rest against the small of Satoru’s back as they moved to follow the others toward the lobby.

“Hey,” Sukuna said, addressing the rest of the band. “We’ve gotta make a quick stop before we meet up with you guys at the bus.”

Jin glanced back over his shoulder as he adjusted the strap of his overnight bag, raising a brow. “Don’t take too long, man. Bus pulls out in an hour.”

Sukuna waved him off. “Relax. We’ll be there.”

The group filed out through the lobby, exchanging a few last words before splitting off, the others heading toward the underground garage where the tour bus waited.

Sukuna paused just outside the hotel entrance, pulling out his phone and unlocking it. The morning sun was already bright and hot, gleaming off the luxury cars lined up along the curb, the steady hum of city traffic buzzing in the background.

“Alright,” Sukuna said, glancing over at Satoru, “What’s the address?”

Satoru blinked for a second, caught off guard. “Oh. Uh… actually, it’s not far. My friend’s place is only a few blocks from here. We can just walk.”

Sukuna’s brows lifted, his head tilting slightly with an amused scoff. “Walk? In broad daylight? Through the middle of downtown?”

Satoru immediately felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck. Right. Sukuna wasn’t just some guy. He was a world famous rockstar who risked getting mobbed if he stepped outside for too long.

“Oh. Shit. Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He winced, mentally kicking himself for sounding so stupid.

Sukuna only chuckled, bumping Satoru’s arm with his elbow. “Relax, sweetheart. You’ll get used to it.” He tapped at his screen, opening up the ride app. “Give me the address.”

Satoru quickly rattled it off, watching as Sukuna entered it into his phone. A few moments later, the request was confirmed. Sukuna tucked his phone away and casually draped his arm around Satoru’s shoulders as they stood waiting.

Minutes later, a sleek black SUV rolled up to the curb. Uber Black, of course. The driver stepped out to open the back door, and Sukuna gestured for Satoru to slide in first. Satoru climbed into the cool, leather-scented interior, settling into the plush seat as Sukuna followed, shutting the door behind them.

As the car pulled away from the curb and merged into the traffic, Satoru glanced out the tinted window, his nerves a little steadier now.

#ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru #sukugo #jjk

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poutysprouty · 2 months ago

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BEFORE THE FINAL CURTAIN FALLS

masterlist | word count: 4.4k

CHAPTER 7: BLACK HONEY

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD. 18+ ONLY, MDNI.

Satoru stirred, blinking himself awake as the warmth of the late morning sun touched his face. His mind was slow to catch up at first, foggy with lingering exhaustion and the unmistakable ache of being thoroughly used. As he shifted to sit up, the expensive silk sheets slipped down his bare chest, pooling loosely around his waist. The cool air kissed his flushed skin, sending a faint shiver through him as reality slowly reassembled itself around him.

And then it hit him again. Where he was. Who he was with.

He turned his head slightly, heart giving a stupid little flutter at the sight beside him.

Sukuna lay sprawled out on his stomach, completely naked beneath the blankets, one arm slung up over the pillow. His broad back rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, muscles flexing faintly beneath his tattoos. His face, always sharp and dangerous when awake, was softened now in sleep, his lashes resting against high cheekbones, hair messy from the night’s exertion.

Satoru sat still for a moment, just staring. Like if he moved too fast, he might wake up from whatever ridiculous fever dream this entire thing had become.

Because this was still impossible to fully grasp.

He was in Ryomen Sukuna’s hotel room. In his bed.

The Sukuna. Lead singer of MANIA. The man whose voice had once been nothing but sound pouring from his shitty headphones on lonely nights. The man who had been his lockscreen on his phone for years. The man whose music had carried him through some of the worst moments of his life.

And now here he was, with an unmistakable ache still pulsing between his thighs, his raw hole still leaking faintly with proof of just how many times Sukuna had taken him last night. God. It was almost absurd.

Satoru’s stomach did a flip as he glanced toward the windows again, blinking blearily into the soft morning light.

Who would’ve thought it would take him getting hit by a goddamn car to wind up here?

He huffed a little laugh to himself.

Sure, sleeping with his idol wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined would happen, but hell, it wasn’t like he was complaining. Not when Sukuna had proven to be… Well, far more than just a wild rock star. The man was a very attentive lover.

Satoru shifted a bit more, wincing as his tender muscles protested the movement. His stamina had always been decent, but after last night? He was starting to wonder if that even mattered when it came to Sukuna. The man fucked like he’d never get to fuck again, and apparently, Satoru was very willing to participate.

He ran a hand through his messy white hair, halfheartedly attempting to smooth down the strands that were sticking up in uneven spikes. A faint blush crept up his cheeks as fragments of last night played like flickering snapshots behind his eyes. Sukuna’s voice in his ear, those filthy words, the way his hands had gripped him, the way Sukuna had praised him even as he wrecked him.

It was dangerous, probably. Reckless. But God, it felt so fucking good.

Satoru exhaled slowly. If this was a mistake, it was one he had zero regrets about.

He carefully leaned back against the headboard, mindful not to disturb Sukuna. The rockstar continued to sleep deeply beside him, lips slightly parted, looking almost peaceful in the morning glow.

Biting his lip, Satoru whispered under his breath with a small grin. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is my life right now…”

His mind drifted, circling around the whirlwind of the past 24 hours. It was almost laughable how fast everything had changed.

He swallowed, glancing briefly toward the sleeping man sprawled beside him again while his thoughts swirled. Satoru’s stomach flipped again, but this time for reasons that had little to do with nerves and everything to do with desire.

Because he knew exactly what his arrangement with Sukuna was. He wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t gone into this blind. No promises of love or romance had been made. What Sukuna had offered him was simple.

A place on the tour. A warm bed every night. Food in his stomach. A front-row seat to the world he had only ever dreamed of watching from the outside. All in exchange for this. For being Sukuna’s personal toy.

Satoru bit his lip as a little tremor ran through him, a spark of heat blooming low in his belly.

He should feel guilty, shouldn’t he? He should feel used. Or at the very least conflicted.

But instead, all he felt was that sharp thrill of excitement that had followed him ever since Sukuna first pulled him close, voice low and filthy in his ear, calling him a good boy.

God, he liked it. Liked the danger. Liked being wanted so fiercely. Liked giving himself over to someone who knew exactly what to do with him. Someone who wasn’t ashamed to take.

Satoru exhaled shakily, thighs instinctively pressing together beneath the sheets as the heat inside pulsed insistently, even now, even after hours of being used. But the ache wasn’t enough to cool the buzz of arousal humming through him.

Truly, in his mind it was a small price to pay to stay safe and experience everything he’d only ever dreamed of. And Satoru was more than willing to pay the price. In fact, he was pretty eager to pay the price.

Satoru’s fingers absentmindedly tracing idle shapes into the rumpled sheets pooled at his waist as he thought. As the golden light crept higher across the wide windows, his thoughts slid into quieter, more private places.

He’d been with other people before. More than a few, actually. Men. Women. One-night hookups in shitty apartments. Stolen moments at the back of clubs. Some tender, some rough, some little more than warm bodies and mutual hunger. And honestly? He’d enjoyed most of it. He wasn’t shy about sex. Never really had been.

He liked the act itself, liked exploring what his body could take, what others could give. Some nights he was the one in control, pulling whimpers and cries from partners who shivered beneath him. Other nights he let himself be bent, pinned, filled, surrendering to hands that knew how to handle him.

He didn't care much about roles. Dominant. Submissive. Top. Bottom. He’d worn both skins easily. It was always about connection, about feeling something. About drowning out the emptiness that sometimes clawed at him when he was left alone for too long.

But with Sukuna, it felt different somehow.

Not just the sex itself, but everything around it. The way Sukuna looked at him, like he was something precious and breakable but also something to be devoured and ruined. The way Sukuna touched him, rough and demanding but never careless. The way Sukuna wanted him, like Satoru was the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. Satoru found himself preferring to surrender control.

A quiet groan escaped him as he sat up fully again, carefully peeling himself free from the heavy sheets. Every little movement sent dull aches radiating up his spine and through his hips. Satoru bit his lip, hoping not to wake Sukuna as he slipped one foot off the bed, testing his weight.

The moment he stood, his knees nearly gave out.

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, steadying himself on the edge of the bed.

His thighs quivered, weak beneath him. It was like his muscles had completely forgotten how to support him after last night. He pressed a hand to his lower back, wincing at the soreness pulsing there. The steady drip between his legs only made it worse, thick fluid sliding slowly down the inside of his thighs with every step.

Fuck me… he thought with a weak, breathless chuckle. Sukuna damn near broke me.

Determined to clean himself up before Sukuna woke, he hobbled quietly toward the large bathroom attached to the suite.

The moment he stepped inside, the automatic lights flicked on, warm amber lighting greeting him, soft and soothing against the marble and sleek chrome fixtures. Satoru leaned heavily on the wide vanity for a moment, catching his breath as he lifted his head to stare at his reflection.

What he saw made heat rush to his cheeks all over again.

His usually neat white hair was wild and tangled, strands curling and sticking up every which way. His face was flushed, lips swollen from being kissed and bitten so thoroughly, his neck littered with vivid hickeys that stood out starkly against his pale skin. His chest and thighs were just as marked, with faint teeth imprints, hand-shaped bruises, and red scratches left behind in Sukuna’s hungry wake.

He looked utterly debauched.

He could stop himself from smiling.

There was no shame in his eyes. No regret.

If this is what being Sukuna’s “toy” looks like, he thought as he eyed the mess dripping down his thighs again, then I think I can handle it.

Reaching forward, Satoru turned on the shower, the soft rush of water quickly filling the bathroom as steam began to rise. He stepped in slowly, letting the heat hit his skin in waves. The instant the water touched him, he exhaled a quiet sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing for the first time in what felt like hours.

The heat was a balm, soaking into every sore inch of him. Each pulse of warmth soothed the dull ache Sukuna had left behind, washing away the evidence of their night together. The sticky mess slowly slid down his legs, swirling in cloudy ribbons around the drain. But even as his body was cleansed, Satoru could still feel Sukuna on him, like the heat had only deepened the phantom touch lingering on his skin.

Steam coiled thick in the air, soft clouds rising around him as he leaned against the cool marble wall, letting his eyes fall shut. The steady stream of water pounded gently across his skin.

After finishing washing himself off, he finally shut off the water, listening to the last few drips echo against the silence. Carefully, he stepped out onto the plush mat, his legs still faintly unsteady but much more willing to cooperate now that the ache had lessened. He reached for one of the oversized towels hanging neatly nearby, rubbing it briskly through his wild, damp hair before patting down the rest of his flushed skin.

The soft cotton brushed over the faint bruises scattered across his hips, the pink bite marks blooming along his collarbone, and the faint scratch lines etched into his sides. Sukuna had certainly been thorough.

Tying the towel snug around his waist, he stepped back into the bedroom through the doorway connecting the en suite. The air in the suite felt cooler, untouched by the steamy humidity of the bathroom.

Drawn to the window, Satoru padded silently across the thick carpet. He stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass, gazing out at the city sprawling endlessly below. Down below, traffic crawled along in narrow ribbons. The people on the sidewalks were hardly visible from this high up. They were just tiny dots, like ants scattered across some miniature world.

A bemused smile tugged at Satoru’s lips as he rested his palm against the cool glass. Is this what it always feels like to be on top of the world?

Because standing here, wrapped in nothing but a towel after a night with one of the most famous rockstars alive, it certainly felt that way.

Behind him, a soft rustle of sheets caught his attention. The bed creaked as movement stirred, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Sukuna was sitting up, one hand dragging down his face as he blinked himself awake. His crimson eyes locked onto Satoru almost immediately, a glint of mischief already flickering behind the still-heavy lids. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he raked his gaze over Satoru’s barely covered form, towel low on his hips, hair damp, skin glowing.

“Well, fuck me,” Sukuna rasped, voice gravelly from sleep, “I think I just died and woke up to an angel.”

Satoru flushed instantly, the heat rushing to his cheeks, though he rolled his eyes in a poor attempt at playing it cool. “You’re so cheesy,” he teased, turning fully to face him now.

Sukuna chuckled, his grin widening. “Where exactly did that shy, stuttering fanboy from yesterday go, huh?” he asked, raising a brow as he leaned back on one arm.

The words made Satoru’s smile soften into something a little more shy. “He’s still here,” he replied lightly, moving closer. “He just... got a little corrupted.”

He climbed easily onto the bed, crawling into Sukuna’s open arms. Sukuna wasted no time wrapping those strong arms around him, tugging him close so that Satoru’s damp skin pressed flush against his bare chest. The rockstar’s warm breath ghosted over his temple as he hummed approvingly, his hands roaming possessively along Satoru’s back.

“Mmm,” Sukuna purred, nosing at the side of his neck before nipping lightly at the soft skin there. “Look at you, wearing all my marks like they belong there.”

Satoru’s breath hitched softly at the gentle scrape of teeth against his skin. “Maybe they do,” he whispered, half-teasing, half-breathless.

Sukuna’s answering growl vibrated against his throat. “Damn right they do.”

Sukuna’s hands roamed lower, fingers curling over the towel still clinging to Satoru’s hips. With a quick tug, he yanked it free, tossing it carelessly aside. The cool morning air hitting his full body made him shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Sukuna’s palms as they slid possessively over the curve of his ass, squeezing.

“Love seeing you beneath me,” Sukuna rasped, voice rough with growing hunger. His crimson eyes drank him in, roaming shamelessly over every inch of exposed skin. “But I want to see you on top of me right now.”

Satoru’s breath quickened, the words sending a sharp jolt of want through him.

Sukuna leaned back fully against the headboard, legs spreading wide as he gestured lazily toward his lap. “Come ride me, baby.”

Satoru’s pulse hammered in his ears as he moved, straddling Sukuna’s hips, feeling the heat of him already pressing thick and heavy beneath him. Sukuna’s large hands settled on his waist, holding him steady.

Reaching over to the nightstand, Satoru grabbed the bottle of lube, popping the cap open with slightly trembling fingers. He squeezed a generous amount into his palm, first slicking his own stretched entrance with careful fingers, wincing at the tenderness but shivering with anticipation.

He worked himself open again, slow and deliberate, moaning softly at the stretch. Then, biting his lip, he reached down between their bodies, wrapping slick fingers around Sukuna’s cock, coating him thoroughly, spreading the lube along the length of his heavy shaft until it gleamed in the low morning light.

Sukuna groaned at the touch, hips flexing instinctively. “Fuck, you’re so eager.”

Once satisfied, Satoru lined himself up carefully, his thighs already trembling. He exhaled a shaky breath as the thick head of Sukuna’s cock pressed against his entrance.

Slowly, inch by inch, Satoru sank down onto him, eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open in a soft gasp as Sukuna stretched him fully. The fullness was intense, electric, every nerve ending singing as he took Sukuna deep inside.

Sukuna’s head tipped back against the headboard, a guttural groan vibrating in his chest. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he growled. “You feel so goddamn good.”

Satoru paused for a moment to adjust, steadying his breath, his palms pressed against Sukuna’s chest for balance. The deep ache was sweet, addicting, and once the sharp edge dulled, he began to move.

Slowly at first, rolling his hips, lifting and lowering himself on Sukuna’s cock, savoring the stretch and drag with each rise and fall. The thick length inside him pressed against every sensitive spot, sending ripples of pleasure through his entire body.

“That’s it, baby,” Sukuna rasped, eyes burning into him. “Take it. Show me how much you can handle.”

The words lit something inside Satoru. His pace quickened, bouncing in Sukuna’s lap, skin slapping against skin as the wet, filthy sounds of their bodies filled the room. His thighs burned, breath coming in shaky gasps as he rode Sukuna harder, chasing the pleasure that coiled tight in his belly.

Sukuna’s large hands gripped his hips, guiding him, forcing him down harder with each thrust. But then one hand slid upward. His fingers traced up Satoru’s chest, along the line of his throat, and then gently wrapped around his neck.

Satoru’s breath caught, eyes fluttering as Sukuna applied the barest pressure. His head tipped back, exposing his throat, his voice breaking into a desperate moan.

“Fuck,” Satoru whimpered, voice thin, pleasure flashing through him like lightning.

“You like that, don’t you?” Sukuna growled, lips curling into a dark, feral grin. “Look at you. So fucking pretty with my hand around your throat, stuffed full of my cock.”

The light squeeze on his throat, paired with the deep grind of Sukuna’s hips beneath him, sent Satoru spiraling. His body trembled, thighs shaking as every roll of his hips drove Sukuna deeper. The feeling had his head swimming, teetering right on the edge.

“Come on, baby,” Sukuna rasped. “Milk my cock. I wanna feel you cum all over me.”

Satoru came with a sharp cry, his release ripping through him, spilling hot between their bodies. His muscles spasmed, body locking up as waves of pleasure crashed over him, leaving him breathless and trembling.

Sukuna snarled, slamming up into him a few more brutal, deep thrusts before finally groaning low and dark as he spilled inside him, cock twitching as he filled Satoru.

Sukuna’s hand loosened on his throat, sliding down to cradle his jaw, pulling him in for a slow kiss. “Mmm… now that’s how I like to wake up.” he murmured against Satoru’s lips, voice thick with satisfaction.

Satoru melted against him, boneless, clinging to Sukuna’s broad chest as his head spun, skin tingling, his pulse racing.

Sukuna shifted beneath him, pressing a final kiss to Satoru’s sweat-slick temple before gently maneuvering him off his lap. Satoru whimpered softly at the loss, his thighs trembling as he sat back on shaky legs, still flushed and breathless.

Without warning, Sukuna scooped him up into his arms, standing easily, carrying him like he weighed nothing.

“Hey!” Satoru let out a startled laugh, arms instinctively looping around Sukuna’s thick neck.

“You’re not walking anywhere like this,” Sukuna rumbled, voice rich with amusement. “Your legs are jelly.”

He walked across the room and pushed open the door to the en suite bathroom with his foot. He reached into the shower and turned the water on again, letting it heat to just the right temperature.

Satoru squinted at him playfully, still catching his breath. “We’re really gonna run the hotel’s water bill up at this rate.”

Sukuna smirked, cocking a brow as he adjusted the knobs. “They can afford it. Besides, you’re gonna need every damn shower you can get before I’m done with you.”

Satoru flushed but couldn’t fight the grin pulling at his lips as Sukuna stepped inside the shower, still carrying him, setting him gently under the stream before joining him.

The hot water beat down on them, washing away the sweat and stickiness. Sukuna’s hands didn’t stay idle for long. He reached for the expensive hotel soap, working up a rich lather between his hands before starting to smooth it over Satoru’s flushed skin.

His fingers traced the bruises painting Satoru’s hips. Sukuna hummed low in approval, as if admiring a work of art. Satoru’s breath hitched under the heat of his touch. The gentle circles of Sukuna’s soapy fingers slid along his ribs, up his chest, down his thighs, his touch both soothing and possessive. But then, those thick fingers dipped lower again, trailing between his cheeks, massaging lightly around his still-sensitive hole.

Satoru whimpered, his legs nearly giving out, hand snapping up to grab Sukuna’s bicep for support. “S-Sukuna,”

“Shh.” Sukuna’s lips brushed along his ear. “Just cleaning you up real good.”

His fingers pressed inward, slipping into him as the water cascaded over their bodies. Satoru gasped sharply, forehead resting against Sukuna’s broad chest. Sukuna moved slowly, coaxing him open again, curling his fingers expertly as he worked him.

The soft sounds of water-slicked flesh filled the shower as Sukuna carefully fingered him, his free hand stroking gentle paths along Satoru’s spine while he whispered into his ear.

“Gotta get you nice and empty, sweetheart,” Sukuna murmured. “Don’t want you leaking all over the bus later.”

Satoru let out a broken moan, his hips instinctively rocking into the rhythm, utterly helpless. Little by little, Sukuna coaxed out the last remnants of his release.

Finally, Sukuna eased his fingers free, brushing soothing circles over Satoru’s hipbones as he pressed a tender kiss to his temple. “There we go, baby. All nice and clean.”

It was only then that Sukuna reached for the detachable showerhead, rinsing both of them off thoroughly. He carefully washed away every last trace of soap and sweat, his hands never leaving Satoru’s body for more than a few seconds, as though he simply couldn’t stop touching him.

Once they were fully rinsed, Sukuna shut off the water and reached for the plush towels, drying Satoru off with surprising tenderness. Satoru leaned into every touch, still boneless and hazy, letting Sukuna care for him.

They returned to the bedroom after drying off. Satoru wandered toward the corner of the suite where his clothes had been discarded the night before, slowly pulling them on.

Sukuna dressed as well, pulling on a pair of dark jeans and a fresh black t-shirt before tossing a few items into his travel bag with practiced ease.

Finally, Sukuna glanced over at him, slinging his travel bag casually over one broad shoulder. “The band’s meeting for breakfast downstairs before we load up the bus. Is there anywhere you need to go before we hit the road? Grab your stuff? I figure you’ll want your things for the trip.”

Satoru blinked for a moment, the question pulling him briefly out of the hazy warmth that still clung to him. He nodded. “Yeah, actually. There’s a friend’s place I need to swing by real quick.”

Sukuna gave a nod. “No problem. We’ll make a stop.”

With that, Sukuna glanced around the hotel room one last time, his sharp gaze sweeping the space like he was double-checking for anything left behind. Satisfied that nothing was missing, he reached for his sunglasses on the nightstand and slipped them on top of his head.

“Alright, let’s go.”

He moved to the door first, holding it open with one hand as Satoru stepped past him. The moment Satoru was within reach, Sukuna’s large palm settled lightly at the small of his back. The touch made Satoru feel incredibly small, tucked beneath Sukuna’s shadow.

They walked together down the long carpeted hallway. The hotel’s luxury decor blurred past, but Satoru barely noticed. Every step they took toward the elevators made this whole thing feel more real.

Sukuna’s hand never left his lower back, not even as they reached the polished chrome elevators. Sukuna pressed the button with a knuckle, and the doors slid open with a soft chime. The reflective walls gleamed around them as they stepped inside, the soft glow of the overhead lights catching in the mirrored surfaces, turning their reflections into endless versions of themselves.

As the doors slid shut, the space shrank around them. The hand at his back shifted slightly, fingers splaying wider across the curve of his spine.

For a moment, Satoru caught his own reflection in the mirrored panel in front of him. His reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and breathless, caught somewhere between disbelief and exhilaration.

As the elevator descended, Satoru let himself lean subtly into Sukuna’s touch, allowing that steady hand to anchor him.

The next chapter of his life was about to begin.

Whatever came next, Satoru was ready.

The elevator gave a soft chime as it slowed to a stop. The doors began to open.

His story was only just beginning.

#ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru #sukugo #jjk #sukugo smut

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