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specialgradefckr · 4 days ago

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Eat You Out of Heart and Home

You make him hungry. You give him a taste. But you forgot to feed him - now he'll eat you.

tw: explicit content. noncon. satoru/reader, suguru/reader, satosugu. yandere. manipulation. toxic relationships. unclear cheating/situationship. fucked up and only getting more fucked up. proceed with the utmost caution.

Part of a series: Beat Your Heart to Death, Heartline Gone Flat

Since when have you been this person?

You almost killed a man, and you don't feel bad about it.

It's not that you don't feel bad, exactly. It's just that you don't feel bad about what you've done. You didn't kill him, which counts for something. Right?

But that's not what you're thinking about, not really. Not what haunts your mind.

The thoughts float past you while you lay back on your bed, unmoving, staring straight upwards like you're caught in some kind of meditative trance.

it's just... how did it even come to this in the first place?

You were actually going to kill him, for real. But instead you only carved your name into him, which is... also insane.

You're insane. There's something wrong with you, something fucked up for even considering it.

Since when have you been this person?

Since they got together. Since they fucked where you could hear, where you could see. Since they brought girls home to do it with.

Could you really put this on them, though? Was it really their fault? They didn't do anything that crazy, did they?

Sure, they were playing fucked up games. They were making you watch things you didn't consent to. It was fucked up, even if Suguru just - even if you agreed to it. They shouldn't have been doing it openly, they should have known not to, and they did it anyways.

And other stuff. Satoru was in your bathroom doing god knows what. Your laundry went missing sometimes. They definitely had been fucking around with your sex toys.

And more importantly, they were filming you in your own fucking home.

So maybe putting them on onlyfans was fair. A dick move, maybe, but was it that crazy to sell something they so obviously wanted you to buy?

And then - and then they fucking - they just. All the fucking sex stuff! How they acted! Satoru fucked you and he couldn't stop - couldn't stop looking at Suguru, like he had to see him, like Suguru was always a part of everything he did, like they were in on some joke together you didn't know.

And Suguru - he just - he had to know. Somewhere deep down, you knew, Suguru knew how you felt about him. There was just no way he didn't. He's too smart, too sensitive, and he's known you too long -

Saying all that - Satoru's better... special... he knows me that well... loves me that much - and he knew! Why would he smile at you like that if he didn't fucking know -

And it made it worse. It made your chest feel like it was collapsing all over again, fresh tears brimming in your eyes.

He said it like he knew exactly how much it hurt that he'd fucked Satoru and not you, that they were so much closer to each other than to you.

It wasn't fun, it wasn't friendly, it was pure sadism. He wanted you to hurt.

Every thought is more and more haunting. Sleep seems so far away. Will Suguru be able to sleep at night?

Is he as tortured as you are, or is he just happily going along his way, enjoying Satoru's heart even with your name written all over it?

And you? Were you any better?

It comes up, the thought you've been desperately trying not to think.

You would have killed him.

You were going to cut his throat, for real. You'd already cut your name into his skin and you were going to slit his throat next.

If he hadn't been smiling up at you like that, if it hadn't just completely unwound you - you would have killed him.

Distantly, you realize that your hands are shaking.

Satoru almost died. Your Satoru, your friend, the person you lived with, the person you knew, he almost died and you were why.

That pretty face, that wide, boyish grin, all his stupid jokes and little flirty moments and the way he held onto you when he finally -

Dead. He'd be dead. You'd be looking down at his dead body right now, if you hadn't stopped.

What... what's wrong with you?

Since when have you been this person?

You swallow hard. Throat raw, wet. Dried tears on your face.

There's this nauseous feeling in your stomach, like something's trying to climb up and out of your mouth.

Maybe it's your heart. Maybe it wants out of this hell. You wouldn't blame it. You want to crawl out of your own body right now. Throw your entire life and identity behind and never think about any of it ever again.

Your hands are still shaking.

Was it really their fault?

Could they have drawn this out of you if it wasn't there to begin with? If you weren't already seething, screaming, dying on the inside? Resenting their happiness, hungry and desperate to take a bite out of it for yourself?

They were happy together, and you hated it. They loved each other and you wanted them to love you instead. They played around, had fun with each other and other girls, and it made you seethe in rage.

You told yourself they were satisfied with just each other. That they'd never want you. They might even just be gay.

Wrong, wrong, and wrong.

And a more terrible question comes to mind. Even worse than before. So dark and awful it makes you tremble and cry from fear.

Because if they want more than just each other, if they want you, if they're open to the idea -

Why don't you ask?

You lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts swirling. Satoru. Suguru. What have you done - what are you going to do, now?

(you're not a good person, after all)

Suguru didn't mean for it to turn out like this.

He watches. He watches you go manic with Satoru underneath you. His cock throbs, oversensitive, spent, still pulsing as the vibrator busses against him.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. But then, a traitorous voice whispers in his head, what was it supposed to be like?

He had you on your knees for him and still mocked you. He wanted you to break down, be brought to tears, to bare your heart to him -

And he supposes, now, that you are. In a way.

He watches and he sees -

Oh god. Oh fuck, fuck -

Satoru's looking at him, starry eyed, and because he is he doesn't see you but Suguru sees you and he sees the knife in your hand and the look in your eyes -

(his heart skips a beat. but his cock throbs.)

You're going to kill him. Fuck. Fuck! You're going to KILL HIM.

He has to say something. Or scream, or speak up - or -

Anything! Just do anything to stop this, Satoru's life is on the line!

And maybe his mouth even opens, maybe he even means to, but something sticks the words in his throat.

It's enrapturing. Beautiful.

A masterpiece unfolding right there in the dim light of the room, you and him naked on the floor, pure artwork given life.

Satoru is beautiful. Blood running down his chest. Those big blue eyes staring at him. On his back like a sacrifice on the altar.

And you, the apoplectic deity claiming your offering. Equal parts rage and desire warring on your face, and even though your eyes are on Satoru, Suguru knows that he's the one you're cursing.

The feeling is exquisite. Heat surges through his veins. He's close, just now, just from this.

Satoru's eyes are full of triumph and he still doesn't know that his neck is about to be split open.

He'll die victorious, at your hands, with Suguru as his witness.

(he feels the tightening in his core, the surge of pleasure building up)

Now. Now now NOW, he needs to stop you, NOW, the knife is at his neck and Satoru is looking back, and any moment now he'll realize -

The release edges through the cracks, cock drooling out a tiny burst, stealing any possible words he could have formed.

(if satoru died he would never have to share your love)

But -

The release slows, edge falling as it dawns on him, as you and Satoru lock gazes and something shifts inside you. Something he doesn't see.

You don't kill him.

You drop the knife, you get up, and you leave.

Leaving Satoru laying on the floor, bleeding out, right in front of him. Glassy eyes blinking, brimming with tears.

He croaks out your name. Once, twice - only silence meets him.

"Satoru," Suguru says, coughing, wincing as his dick starts to string with the intense pain of aggravated nerves.

Satoru doesn't answer him. He says your name again, hazy eyes searching, propping himself up on trembling arms.

Pretty cheeks all flushed, dick twitching as his release coats his lower half.

"Satoru." He repeats, "She left. Come get me out of this."

A slow blink of those blue, blue eyes.

"Stand up. Come over here. Untie me." Slow sentences, clear commands, Suguru speaks as loudly as he dares with his raw throat.

With sleepy, stumbling movements, Satoru gets over to him, and on his knees beside Suguru.

There's a noise, as he tugs the gag out of his mouth, and it falls to the floor.

"She left?" Satoru says, staring at the ties like it's some vast, impossibly intricate puzzle.

"Untie-" He repeats, but then he feels the ropes release.

He looks down to see the knife you'd dropped in Satoru's hand. The ties all fall away, severed.

"Why would she leave?" Satoru's voice sounds very small, confused, like an abandoned child. "She - she did this to me. She loves me."

The words hit like a physical blow.

Suguru quickly rips the vibrator off his poor, half-numb dick, shoving away Satoru who leans his face in, hands on his thighs.

His eyes are glassy, still, impossibly distant. Paler than before, blood dripping over his chest, pallid face feverish and sweaty.

"She left me?" Satoru trembles, clinging to his thigh.

Suguru slumps forward, sighing. Exhausted. Fucking hell.

Nails dig into his thighs. Pinpricks of pan that ground him.

"She left?" His voice gets higher, more anxious, "Why would she leave? Where... where'd she...? Come, come back..."

There's a sniffle, and Suguru doesn't need to look down. Satoru's sob wracks through his whole body. The endorphins, the pain, the emotions - it's all catching up to him.

But he's not the one with a bitter, ugly feeling curling up in his gut.

"Here, open up," Suguru drags Satoru between his legs, manipulating him like a doll. Pretty, loose-limbed. Easy.

Satoru's hair is unusually greasy, even if it's still soft in his hands. Soaked through with sweat. He pulls his pretty face forward, onto his still-hard cock.

"Just hold it. Don't suck." He groans at the embrace of Satoru's wet, warming mouth enveloping him.

Satoru takes him without resistance, sliding forward, letting his dick fill his mouth and his throat. Leaning all the way in, blinking away tears, resting his head on Suguru's thick thighs.

Suguru leaves him like that, stroking Satoru's hair while he drools mindlessly on his dick.

He leans back against the chair with a great sigh.

Of course. Satoru gets your name in his chest, he gets your vicious, jealous rage, he gets to fuck you, he gets you to break apart on top of him -

And Suguru gets to fucking watch. And clean up after you while you leave this whiny little mess on his lap.

Maybe this is your final insult. Carving him up and dumping him like leftovers. Here, have this, I don't even want it anymore.

Was that what it was all along?

Fighting over the shiny new toy, the beautiful young man who'd moved in with him and caught your eye all those years ago?

You finally got him from Suguru, and now you didn't care, anymore?

There's a whimper between his legs - he winces at how it stimulates his still-sensitive cock, smacking Satoru on the head. He whines, and pulls off, lips still dripping with drool and cum.

"Is she gonna come back...?" He says, forlorn, a tone that tugs at his chest, "What do we do now?"

Blue eyes, wide open oceans stare up at him in askance. But there's that childish tone, the whine in his voice that tells Suguru he's not hurting anymore, he's come back down to earth.

Even with you breaking over him, even being cut up and nearly killed, it's merely a scratch for Satoru. Just a sign of your love. He'll wear it with the same obnoxious but endearing pride he wears all of Suguru's bruises and bitemarks.

The second Suguru snapped at you, challenged you, you backed away. Latched onto Satoru because it was easy. No history or yearning or resistance to your demands.

Satoru's always been easy to love, after all. And Suguru? To you?

The ugly feeling roils, bubbling up. He shoves Satoru away.

"Suguru?"

He's out the door in minutes. He doesn't have to look back to know Satoru follows.

You were worried the attempted murder might make things awkward between you.

Honestly, you were half-certain you'd be kicked out, preparing to leave anyways. Unable to face the reality of what you'd done, and where it left you with them.

But you should have known Satoru would be this dense.

"You can't be serious. You just carved your name into me, and you want to leave?" The panic in his voice is genuine, rising, indignant, "What are you afraid of?"

"I tried to-" You cut yourself off. There's no world where saying that is a good idea. "Satoru, you - you're Suguru's boyfriend. Isn't it weird to have my name on your chest?"

Satoru's face twists into a pout. "Suguru says he can't do his until it's healed."

A half-sputtered laugh barrels through your throat before you can stop it.

"Yeah, but he'll still see what - he'll still see my name on you," the guilt presses down again on your shoulders, "And it - does it hurt?"

Did he go to the hospital? There's no way they wouldn't realize - oh, fuck.

"Yeah. Like, a lot." He lowers his gaze, eyeing you, "You should take care of me."

"Satoru..." He takes another step towards you. Oh, brother.

"You know, until it heals." Satoru gives you those big, pleading eyes, clutching his hand over his chest as if wounded.

And he is wounded - the reminder sends a pang through you.

"It's your fault, after all. You can't just leave me out to dry! Take responsibility!" His voice takes on a teasing lilt, but it's filled with a terrible hopefulness.

You purse your lips, looking away from him.

"Pleeaaaaaaase?" It's drawn out - he gets louder as he steps towards you, body heat radiating from him.

When you look back, your heart is struck again. That face. The most beautiful face in the world.

He looks at you with those bright happy eyes, that impish smile like he knows you can't resist him and he's utterly giddy about it.

I was ready to kill you hours ago, you think.

Satoru doesn't even know.

I carved my name on your chest. I hurt you on purpose. I liked it. I would have taken more, if I weren't so painfully in love with you.

Your mouth drops open, but... there's so much you want to say to him, to that beautiful smiling face, and nothing comes out.

I love you even though I know you love Suguru. I love Suguru too.

Satoru says your name again in askance, and your heart jumps.

I want you. I want -

It shouldn't be surprising that you can't say anything. Can't get the words out.

Cowardice has always come so easily, after all.

"...What did you want to do?"

So that's how you ended up going out with Satoru Gojo.

Is it going out? Or just hanging out as friends? Or is he trying to make Suguru jealous, or -

No. No, it's too scary to think about. Not after everything you've done.

Nobody talks about what you did. Except for Satoru, who mentions it carelessly - shamelessly - whenever he wants you to do something for him.

It's so like him, too. As if it were just some casual spat between friends. Like you played a prank or made a joke that didn't quite land and he's not really mad, just teasing you about it.

It's anxiety-inducing. Keeps you up at night, laying in bed, staring upwards, thinking about your name written in his blood on his skin.

Wondering when this game of play-pretend is going to finally explode on you. When your day of reckoning will arrive.

But then he talks about it like it's nothing, and you don't know whether to laugh or to cry.

Are you that fucked up, that you're upset at the thought that it meant nothing to Satoru except something to guilt you with? What do you want it to mean?

You try to cut your thoughts off there. Nothing good can come from that.

More and more, it's looking like nothing good can come from any of this.

But Satoru keeps asking you, keeps smiling, grabbing your hand and holding it like it's the most natural thing in the world.

You are, as always, helpless. Paralyzed by your own love.

So you go along with it. This is what he wants, right? Whatever satisfies him. Satoru is all over you, dragging you out to coffee, to the zoo, to go shopping.

Holding your hand in crowds, tugging you from place to place like an overeager child. Pointing and exclaiming whenever he sees something interesting (including other people, much to your embarrassment).

He buys you clothes, treats (which he eats half of, but you always let him), anything that catches your eye while you're out window shopping.

It's easy - so easy - to get swept up in it.

You laugh with him, hit his shoulder when he embarrasses you (he sometimes cries and clutches his arm as if wounded).

You thank him with heated cheeks and a bashful gaze when he presents you with the drink order he carefully memorized (he tries to order for you everywhere you go; it turns out he was listening when you corrected him), preening as you accept it.

He can be sweet sometimes, this Satoru Gojo. Thoughtful.

He pulls your chair out for you, compliments your appearance. Laughs off every awkward moment with an easy smile and that gaze full of something you don't dare name.

You lose yourself in conversations about inane little things. What he was like in high school:

"Ew."

"Hey, you can't say that! You've had sex with me!"

His childhood experiences:

"Huh? What's so funny?"

"So you really were the 'young master' in your family. No wonder Suguru was your first friend..."

"Hey! It's not my fault so many people who tried to befriend me were total losers!"

You never knew how to react to those easy little remarks he makes. You avoid the subject in your own head, but Satoru doesn't.

Does it mean so little that he can easily reference it mid-conversation? Or is he fishing for some reaction - and what kind?

You talk about what his family is like, what he's like. What he wants in life. All these things he's never told you before, never talked to you about.

"What do you mean, it's hard to see?"

"I mean, I know you're smart. But have you ever tried to break something down for a complete novice? I'm not sure you'd be that good at it."

"Man, I hope not. That'd be perfect."

"You hope not? Why?"

"I mean, I'm good at everything, right? Pft, laugh it up, you know it's true! It'd be fun to have a real challenge, for once."

And it's... nice. Great, even. You've never seen this side of Satoru, never had him alone like this, animated, engaging in conversation with you like he's here for your company and the outing is just an excuse.

He's sweet. He's... affectionate. Little hugs, a hand over your shoulder or around your waist. Cheek kisses.

He likes to copy your drink order, too, even when it's something you know he won't like. You pretend not to notice that he likes to switch your drinks after you've taken a sip. Probably later on, too.

It's not that you feel awkward calling him out (though you do), but he always looks so pleased, so giddy to have gotten one over on you.

Indirect kiss, you think. So much silly little subterfuge just for that.

You've had sex. He's so dumb.

And you are, as ever, hopelessly in love.

It only gets worse with every - date? Are these dates? Is Satoru dating you now, after you had sex with him and freaked out and carved your name into his chest?

You're too awkward to bring up Suguru. Unsure of where the lines are, what any of this is about. When Satoru mentions him, it's just so normal, completely unbothered, the same as before.

"He can be so stubborn sometimes! You wouldn't believe how hard it is to talk to him..."

"Suguru only ever really listens to his own logic. You can't get him to do anything in the moment, he has to think it over for himself. You have to lay it out for him, make him think it's his own idea."

Sometimes you think Satoru's forgotten that you've known Suguru longer than he has. That he was your friend before being his boyfriend.

Then again, some boyfriend he was, if Satoru's going on dates with you.

Suguru doesn't like it - you can tell.

He doesn't say as much, of course, still making delicious, from-scratch meals that are ready as soon as you and Satoru get home.

Greeting you when you come in, voice calm and even, just warm enough to make you feel guilty.

Satoru, however, feels no such emotion.

"Suguruuuuu~ What's for dinner?"

You almost flinch away from the cheer in his sing-song voice.

Shameless. Utterly shameless, striding through the kitchen like he owns the place. You suppose, technically speaking, he does, even if it's always sort of been Suguru's domain.

He lays plates of food in front of you, carefully prepared and portioned. It's something he's made before, but there's an ingredient or two you don't like - and definitely ones that Satoru doesn't like.

For a moment, though, you see Satoru's eyes glance over the counters. Back to the food, and then your portion of it.

You raise a brow at him and he gives you a wink.

"Just making sure he didn't put something in it," He jokes, "Can't you imagine him with one of those signs? 'Welcome Home, Cheater'?"

Something cold drops in your stomach. You've talked around him so much, "If Suguru is-"

Satoru waves you off, "Please, he doesn't actually care. Suguru!" He calls out, and you nearly freeze in the spot as he turns to both of you.

"Did you miss us while we were out?" Satoru says, with a twinkle in his smile, "Should we invite you next time?"

Suguru's face is deceptively even. It's an expression you've seen before.

"Stop joking around," he says dryly, "And clear off your plates."

No matter what he says, though, Suguru used to always take your plates away from you. He used to ask you what you'd like for dinner, experiment, make things from scratch like some kind of housewife.

It's not like you'd expected it from him. But he's doing it less.

When you ask if he needs help grocery shopping, or text him if he needs anything from the store, his response is lukewarm denial.

So he's upset, but he doesn't want to tell you why. Which means he thinks he doesn't have the right to be upset... or that he shouldn't even have to say it.

The strangest part?

You're not entirely sure if he's mad at Satoru... or you.

There's still a moment or two where you catch them together, but they're very rare.

By then, you're willing to avoid them like the plague. If Suguru wants to try to guilt you into watch again, let him. You won't let him take advantage of your closeness while he's being so distant.

But their encounters seem to have slowed down. And they're no longer trying to be overheard anymore - at least, you don't think so.

One night, you overhear Satoru moan particularly loudly, and you actually find yourself surprised - but you don't hear anything more again.

You don't know what it means. You don't want to think about it.

They're not sleeping together anymore, either.

Or at least, not every night, because more often than not when you get ready to slide under the covers, Satoru is already there, waiting for you.

He hides himself under the bedsheets, all six foot something of himself, like you won't notice him if he's completely covered.

It's stupid. It's goofy. It's painfully adorable. You hear him giggling under the sheets when you approach and it makes your heart do a little flip.

"Satoru..."

"I'm wounded!" He cries, popping just his head out of the covers, looking at you with that familiar pleading face, "You should help me recover. It's only fair!"

You stare at him for an awkward moment. "Suguru - "

"Suguru is having trouble sleeping," Satoru mumbles, looking down, "Kicked me out."

You study him with a heavy gaze, "Since when?"

"A few weeks ago," before, then. What could have been keeping Suguru up at night back then? All their little videos of you? "-but today's the first time he's done this."

Blue eyes settle on you, expectant.

It feels unreal. Satoru Gojo in your bed, waiting for you. Wanting to sleep together - at least, you think it's just that.

A strange miracle, some kind of tantalizing punishment to reward your temporary insanity. All these days you've been living out as normal, trying not to think about being a bad person. Being crazy.

He's right there for the taking, but it feels like a word of askance could send it all crashing down.

"...Don't hog all the sheets." You mutter, slipping in next to him.

Somewhere deep down, you'd expected him to be a clingy bedmate, and Satoru doesn't disappoint. He never has.

He wraps around you, arms and legs, like an octopus. Clinging, tucking you under his chin and pressing you close to his chest.

It keeps you up at night, knowing that your name is written on it. But Satoru? He sleeps like a baby.

Your baby. Nuzzling into your hair, humming, wandering hands roaming your body as he melts against you. Long limbs flopping like useless weights holding you down at his side.

You're frozen there, beholden to him, trapped by a thousand lines you can't see, that Satoru acts like aren't even there.

He starts to join in on your bedtime routines after.

You think you need a lockbox for your toothbrush - he'll just grab it right in front of you. Not an ounce of shame or hesitation.

Satoru will even shower in your ensuite bathroom. When he walks out his skin is extra reddened, the lines on his chest that make your name are dark and a stark purple against his paleness.

You look away, but he doesn't even hide it. Not like he has anything to be ashamed of.

"What?" He teases, his voice so warm, your head feels dizzy. Or maybe it's just the steam, "A little late to be embarrassed about your handwriting, babe~"

The air in front of you gets warmer as he steps in closer. Hand on your chin, tilting you up to look at him. At those blue, blue eyes.

"Don't feel bad. I like it." The other hand traces over the scar, and you nearly flinch, "It's you. How could I not?"

You have nothing to say to that. You crawl into bed and let him hold you.

(are you a bad person for this? if he lets you?)

You fall asleep with his body is pressed against yours like it's the most natural thing int he world.

Falling asleep to his heartbeat, his soft breaths whispering against you like white noise.

But some nights...

Some nights aren't so peaceful. Some nights he gets hard, pressed up against your ass, wound tight in his strong arms.

Satoru is Satoru - he grinds. Shamelessly. Moans even a little, in your ear, threads a leg between your thighs and pulls it up just enough to feel dangerous.

It's anxiety inducing. Thrilling. You feel like your body is being eaten up by his hungry hands, palming all over you, caressing your breasts, your waist, your chest.

You're throbbing with want.

Before the heat can grow any further you kick his legs.

Your panties are sticky, you think. And it's worse that you think Satoru knows it, too.

"Why not?" He whines like a dog. You feel yourself clench.

Satoru taking the whip. Satoru lying still for you to cut him. Satoru underneath you, smiling like a man in love, right about to die -

You pull away.

Silence.

"Really? There's no reason?" He says it like it's not the elephant in every room you go to in this home, like it doesn't weigh on your chest every waking moment.

Like Suguru hasn't been icing you out. And maybe him, too.

Maybe that's why he wants you now. A consolation prize.

"You aren't gonna say anything?"

What can you say?

He reaches for your shoulders, tugging you back into him. It's a motion you just let your body follow through with, still not looking at him.

"...at least hold me." Satoru sounds despondent.

Your heart aches. Your poor, stupid, greedy heart, the same heart that got you into this whole mess and digs you deeper with every passing day.

Turning back, you close the gap between you, burying your face into his chest. Throwing an arm over his side. Laying face-to-face, body curled so his erection won't press up into you.

You feel his face nestle against your hair. Rubbing into it.

"Do you not want me anymore?" The question is low, quiet. Wounded.

You wonder if he means to ask you - or Suguru.

It doesn't matter, though, does it? It still feels like a knife between your ribs. Hearing him hurt. Hearing him lonely.

"No, Satoru," You murmur, gently, burrowing deeper into his chest.

Faintly, you realize that this must be where your name is written on it.

"Don't you... love me...?"

Whispered, just barely loud enough to hear. Like a prayer.

"...?"

You pretend to be asleep.

"When," Satoru pants in Suguru's ear, "Are you - gonna fuck her?"

Incredible. Even like this - pinned to the wall, his chest pressed tight to Suguru's, half-speared on his cock and flushed red with breathlessness - Satoru finds time for stupid fucking questions.

With a heavy, cruel thrust, Suguru wraps a hand around his throat.

"When I'm ready."

Satoru laughs - it's more like a wheeze, but somehow everything he does comes out nice. Loveable.

"You're just jealous 'cause I fucked her first-" A satisfying whimper is drawn from his throat as Suguru slaps a hand over his cock, but Satoru laughs again right after, "Told ya I would."

A large hand wraps around his cock in a vice grip, until his pretty face squeezes tight in half-pain, half-pleasure.

His hole clenches around him, too, yielding pleasure where his big stupid mouth refuses to.

"Did you miss us while we were out?" Suguru repeats at him, mockingly, "Should we invite you next time? You know what you're doing, you loose little slut."

His pretty mouth drops open, but Suguru just slaps his cock again, and Satoru chokes out a loud, heavy moan. The type he'd been holding back on him, all this time.

It makes him happy. It makes him hard. Satoru shouldn't be able to hide anything from him. Do anything without him.

"You have fun, going out with her?" He pants, fucking into his faster, "Acting like she's your little girlfriend?"

Satoru's hands claw their way up, over Suguru's shoulders, digging into his shirtsleeves. He grins, eyes wide and giddy.

"I'll do a lot more than go out with her," He whispers into his ear, "I'll fuck her again, too, if you don't stop playing around."

"Shut," Suguru grunts, "Up." shoving his cock in deep while he twists his fist over Satoru's cock, squeezing out even more pathetic sounds.

Whiny, teary, begging on his dick - that's where Satoru belongs.

"She wouldn't fuck you again anyways," He mutters, "Not without me there."

"You think?" Satoru's eyes glitter in challenge, and it ignites something burning, ferocious in his chest.

Suguru slaps him across the face, "I know her. I know her better than you do."

But Satoru just moans. He can never shut his fucking mouth.

"But I'm the one who h-has her," Satoru wheezes, shuddering with every thrust, "I sleep with her every night. In her bed. You're the one who wants to play games. You know what to do, you just don't want to do it."

"It's different for me," Suguru says lowly, choking him hard enough to cut off any response. Watching Satoru's eyes roll back. "I know her."

His breaths shorten as he starts thrusting in and out with purpose, chasing a satisfaction with ruthless selfishness.

"She's afraid." Thrust. "She loves me." Thrust, squeeze, "Loves you."

At least, on the edge, Suguru releases his throat, staring straight into his hazy eyes while he slaps Satoru's cock again and brings them both to their release -

"I want her to say it." The high washes over him, together at the thought of your confession.

Satoru's mouth drops open, wordless, as his cock spurts over his naked abdomen as he feels Suguru releasing inside him.

"As long as I've known her, she's been afraid..." Suguru's eyes flutter as he sighs, "But if she loved me enough, she could be brave. She should be brave."

They sit like that, for a moment, before Satoru leans forward to rest his forehead against him.

"You still can't sleep at night, though," Satoru whispers lowly, "Maybe she'd help."

"I just told you, I'm not - "

"You don't have to," Satoru says quickly, "But you could. If you want, you could even slip her something, keep her asleep. Don't tell me you haven't thought of it before, I've seen you outside her bedroom. You still make all her meals."

"Because I care," Suguru snaps, "Not all of us show affection by buying expensive gifts and begging to give head."

"Well maybe you should try, because for me, it fucking works," Satoru snaps back, "You're the only one who has a problem here. I'm having a great time."

"Because you're a slut." Suguru shoves him away, "You let her carve you up like the cheap piece of meat you were."

A laugh, "I knew you were sore about that! What, you mad she thought of it first?"

Faster than Suguru can react, Satoru darts forward. Pins him to the wall.

He's the taller of the two. He's got his arms pinned by his sides - face to face, blue eyes ravenous and burning as he stares Suguru down.

"Too fucking bad," He snarls, "You waited and you lost out. So what? Get the fuck over it, Suguru. This shit is getting old already. You're the one holding everything up."

The air gets ten times colder. Suguru's glare cuts like ice. "Watch it. I told you, I know what I want. And I want her to give it to me."

"It's not like she'd even be mad at you," Satoru drawls in challenge, "She loves you, right?"

The tension between the two is palpable. Suguru's face is stony, tense.

"You're missing the point. It has to be her. She has to want me."

Satoru matches his gaze, deep blue eyes glittering, "Think about it. She wouldn't be mad at either of us for fucking her in her sleep, not really. I bet she'd be secretly into that freaky shit, just like you."

Suguru's nose crinkles as he smacks him, "I'm getting off to freaky shit? You remember what you did with her toothbrush-"

"Anyways," Satoru interrupts, "If you knock her out, she won't know who fucked her."

He catches Suguru's gaze, pausing carefully. "If I tell her it was me... will she be disappointed? Surprised? You can have your answer then."

"It's not a confession."

"Isn't it, though?" He challenges, "Even if it's unwilling, unintentional? It's honest, and that's the one thing neither of you can manage."

Suguru glares. "You're so full of shit. You say that, while you're taking her out on dates, coming home together right in front of me. You know what the plan was-"

"Your plan." Satoru says it with a mean smirk, a glint in his eye, "And your plan worked out real well for me, didn't it? I'm not complaining. But you? You're the one left in the dust. You don't even know what she feels like."

A slap rings out, as Suguru pulls away, fuming. Satoru's cheek stings, reddened.

"You don't know her like I do," Suguru says darkly.

Satoru watches him leave, raising a hand up to his face. It doesn't matter if it hurts - after all, he has you to nurse him back to health.

All he has to do is show up in your room. It's incredible, how you open your bed to him. Your heart. How your eyes light up when you see him.

Opened up. Cracked so he can see. But you won't let him inside.

You'll let him curl up next to you, hold you, touch you. So fucking close - only for what? To blue ball him?

He's not some kind of bitch like Suguru who can't take a taste of his own medicine. They'd fucked where you could hear, taunted you for long enough.

Being next to you is a dream come true. But Satoru's being nice - he's waiting to fuck you again, and it's hard.

You're so pretty. You're so in love. Pouring out every drop of your hungry heart for him to lap up. Lapping up his attention like you can't get enough. Taking everything you can get and asking no questions.

Satoru's used to being desperate. He's not used to someone being so desperate for him.

Every night that passes where he gets to feel your body against his but he doesn't bury himself inside it, where he has to watch the want shine in your eyes and see you hold yourself back anyways.

He just wants to be inside you again. He wants to kiss you. He wants his mouth open, all over you, tasting you. He wants to bare his chest and tell you to eat your heart out.

And you're too fucking nice to take what you want. You don't want to hurt Suguru's precious feelings.

Suguru. The same guy who can't bring himself to even say he wants you.

Satoru's out here dying, sharing drinks and going on dates and spooning you every night because you won't fuck him, but Suguru's too good to just have sex with you. Too good to tell you he wants you.

Even when he'd dug a knife into your poor bleeding heart, guilted you, you wouldn't admit you loved him. Wouldn't say it.

And that's all right. He knows how you feel. He does.

But god, he fucking wants. He wants and wants and wants -

And he's getting real fucking tired of Suguru pretending he doesn't feel the same.

Something's changed.

Satoru is taking you out to eat more often. But Suguru - he's acting a little differently.

He asks you what you'd like for dinner, casually. You feel bad, telling him you're out with Satoru - he asks you what you'd like the next day, instead.

Satoru always sits down and eats dinner, too, no matter how awkwardly Suguru is icing him out. He sneaks a bite off your plate, every time. Always gets the first sip from every drink.

It's like he's some poison tester. But he can't possibly, actually believe he'd do that. He's just playing.

No. You know Suguru. He wouldn't do that. Not to you. Not ever.

He's been a dick, sure - it's a thought that sends your mind spiraling. It's so fucking obvious now that he was doing it all on purpose, that he wanted to make you jealous, that he brought all those girls and fucked so loudly and openly to get, what, a reaction out of you?

But he wouldn't hurt you. Not physically. He just wouldn't. Even if he fucking hated you -

Your heart and mind flinch away from the thought. Not because it's scary.

Because for so long, you'd only suspected. Tossed it around in your head - that they must hate you, the way they taunted you all the time - but you'd never really believed it.

But now? Maybe it is true.

Maybe Suguru has a reason to hate you.

Satoru spends more time in your room than his. More time with you than with him. He's almost transparent in his desire, his possession.

There's something so agonizing, excruciating, about being so openly desired and not being able to do anything about it.

Like you're just an actor on the stage they've set up. They put on their little show for you as their unwilling voyeur. Videoed you in your own fucking bedroom. Confronted you when they found out you were doing the same.

All that sex - and spite, and surrender - and now they just want to act... fucking normal. Or something.

Satoru wants to act like a couple. Suguru wants - you don't even fucking know what he wants!

And you don't think Satoru does, either! Or that he even fucking cares!

Sometimes you catch him admiring his chest in the mirror. Staring, running his fingers over raised red lettering.

Something curls in your stomach at the sight. Like you want to look away, but you can't. Hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

He's so beautiful.

He's so, so beautiful, and he smiles as you, and he's funny and you're so fucking happy when he's around and does this mean he's happy, too, does this mean he -

Don't think about it. Never think about it. Your mind is overflowing with land mines, with boxes you can't open or else you'll just burn yourself even more.

It's already a struggle, every night you sleep with him. Burning like a fever. Your cunt remembers the feel of him. It doesn't help that you haven't dared to touch yourself with him constantly in your space.

Every night you climb into his arms to burn up again. Willingly. Gladly.

And every day, you eat the food that Suguru makes for you.

This morning it's pancakes. He's added something to the batter, your favorite, and the scent fills the air as you finish up.

"Satoru's been sleeping with you," He says, casually, glancing at you with those hooded eyes.

You swallow. "He says you keep kicking him out."

"I've been having trouble sleeping," Suguru gives a heavy sigh as he sits down, right next to you.

He looks it, too. Dark circles under his eyes. Gaze frayed at the edges. The usual sharpness gone dull. He moves like there's something weighing him down.

It's your fault, you know. Somewhere, deep down, you think you even feel bad about it.

Now, with him sitting at your side, reaching out after being left alone - you can't bring yourself to care.

Does this make you the person you were afraid of being? The person who would have cut Satoru's throat, in cold blood?

Even the memory of it still sends ice through your chest.

"Are you all right?" A gentle murmur in your ear, an arm around your shoulders "Is it too cold?"

"No," You look away. "I can tell Satoru to go back. If you want me to."

Why wouldn't you want him to? If he's dating Suguru, shouldn't he want to? Shouldn't Suguru be angry that he's with you at all?

A million questions, all unsaid. You let the fragile peace continue -

But here's the thing: Suguru does, too.

"It's fine." He cups your face to meet his gaze, "Is something wrong?"

Bottomless darkness. Violet depths. A thousand kind smiles and sweet platitudes. And you still can't figure out what his deal is.

"No, nothing." You smile at him, the perfect mirror of his own. "Thanks for the meal, Suguru."

His lips curve upwards. "Anytime. Sorry, I've been a bit upset with Satoru, lately..."

Suguru leans in, extra close. The plate clatters as his arm pushes it aside, almost caging you in. Neck stretching as he prowls, inches from your face.

"He'll come back to me when I'm less upset. Don't you worry about him, he won't trouble you for much longer."

For a moment all you feel is his breath against your face. The heat of his dark eyes burning into you.

Suguru pulls back, standing up. His lips are stretched in a wide smile. "Here, let me take that for you."

You look down at the plate as he picks it up. Your favorite. Suguru had made your favorite.

You feel... sick.

"I have to go," you say, standing quickly.

If he tells you a goodbye, you don't hear it. You don't listen.

When you leave, you don't look back.

The walk home is long, and dark, and frustrating.

Satoru had wanted to come with you, but got caught up with Suguru. You'd actually run out to avoid that fight.

Avoid what you might overhear.

You were waiting on this, after all. Waiting for everything to fall apart. It was never going to last, anyways.

Satoru wasn't yours. You couldn't really have him. And Suguru -

You don't even want to think about it.

You don't want to think about anything.

Maybe that's why you're taking the long way home. Avoiding the silence that might be waiting for you there. The prospect of sleeping in a cold, lonely bed, after so many nights with Satoru beside you.

You do it without thinking. It's a path you'd taken a million times before, after all. With Satoru, with Suguru. All alone.

But it's late. It's dark. And it is an empty, out-of-sight alleyway.

A hard, gloved hand seizes your shoulders.

The movement is so fast, so fierce - your heart nearly bolts out of your chest, and you jolt, trying to turn -

Cold. Metal. Sharp. It's right up against your throat.

You don't dare swallow. You don't dare breathe.

The hand on your shoulder releases, but the knife is still there. You hear a shuffle.

The pressure on your back pushes you forwards, and forwards more, until you're shoved into the wall. Pressed against it.

Your cheek presses against the cold, dusty bricks of the wall. Your heart is racing out of your chest. Everything feels too hot - too cold - freezing -

A cell phone in front of your face.

Don't scream. Don't fight. Don't turn around. Follow those rules and I'll let you go after I cum.

You feel like you've been doused in ice. Actually, you're shaking - you only notice by how the wall scrapes against you as he drags your pants down, panties and all.

The phone comes back up. The knife -

You want to live, right?

A line of heat draws across your throat. Searing. Slicing.

You nod quickly, minding your chin. You're already shaking too much.

The whole reason you came this way was to avoid what was waiting for you at home.

You'd do anything to be there now. To see them again. Fuck, you want to - you want to see them right now - please. Please.

He pulls the phone away, and after a moment, it comes back with an answer.

Smart girl. Try anything funny and I'll gut you like a fish. The last thing you feel will be my cock fucking your entrails.

Tears well up in your eyes. Heart seizing in your chest. Breaths coming in short, choking gasps.

What if you never see them again?

The knife slides away. Lips on your neck. They should be soft. Warm.

Everything feels like electricity now, like lightning, like adrenaline racing through your veins making you shake uselessly when you're about to be fucking dead.

You barely feel them trail up your neck, the breath on your throat.

All you feel is the other hand, down between your legs. The flat of the blade pressing, cool and harmless, into your thigh, as leather-gloved fingers trace over your cunt.

Oh god. Oh god. This is happening, this is really happening -

All you can hear is your own gasping, quivering breaths. Little squeaking noises as you try to control your heaving.

"Shhh...." The softest, gentlest hush in your ear - as if he hadn't threatened to mortally wound you, and then fuck the wound.

God. Oh, god. Are you gonna die here?

Is this your punishment? You were ready to kill Gojo, and now here you are, ready to die at the hands of a stranger.

Hands pawing at your cunt. Leather fingers dripping wet. Another hand squeezed between you and the wall, groping at your breasts.

You blink tears away from your eyes.

You can't die here.

You haven't even told him yet... you haven't told him... your heart seizes at the thought -

If you get out of this alive. If you make it home.

No matter what, you'll tell him -

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