#𓆪✶˖· 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒐. ﹙ ͥ ͨ ﹚

[raytm]

the warmth of suguru's frame beneath him is not unfamiliar. he feels that he's been here many times before, tucked away in some nondescript hotel room for the night with the lights turned down low and the body of his former friend keeping him steady. a pleasant ache has eased thru satoru's limbs, body sore, sweaty - and he could definitely use a shower after all of that... but as always, it was hard pressed to peel the sorcerer away from the one beneath him, his tactile being far too sweetened with the afterglow to allow suguru to leave him... again. usually they part - sometimes quickly, sometimes hours later when satoru has eased out of the comfort of his space and the the bleak reality of a world without suguru.

hands curl, long fingers flexing into the other's chest - as satoru looks upwards, paying no mind when snow white hair dips in front of glowing blue eyes. on the battlefield - gojo satoru is god incarnate, a being with the beck and call of the void at his fingertips, able to see all. he is untouchable, nigh on feral, and curses merely tremble in his wake. but like this... like this he is pliant, serene, and his limpid gaze is so terribly sad - so filled with want as he presses closer, closer, closer, ensuring geto's dark gaze is pierced beneath his own.

something boils in his chest, something he knows he shouldn't say, knows he shouldn't even think... but the world is different with suguru, everything narrowed down to this tiny hotel room and their kiss stained flesh, shattered upon the altars of antithetical ideals and satoru being unable to follow. so he speaks... softly, whisper quiet, almost imperceptible in sound level: " come back. " he croaks, voice just a touch hoarse, lacking in it's usual pomp, " come back, suguru. " it comes again, a little louder this time, " and we can... we can... " bright blue cast in shadow, as his eyes drift shut. " it never had to be this way. "

Once, their lives had been inextricably connected, those idyllic days belonged to times foregone. It was unfeasible that there could be a time where Satoru Gojo was banished from his mind, a formidable opponent within his warring heart. Even if he defected, turning his back on those antiquated ideals & the abhorrent fossils who governed them, he would never be free of Satoru’s apparition. It did not matter if they were enemies, standing on antithetical paths rather than friends, his dark, forlorn gaze would seek him out in moments of quiet & still feel the ache of his absence when he was met with silence. To have him in this carnal way, satiating the festering hollow within him with starved kisses & ravening teeth, had become curative. Suguru couldn’t allow the chance for that deprivation to impede him, even as he drew back on his clothing & allowed his gaze to follow the path he’d taken in departure, he understood this. It was never a possibility for him to efface the other from his life, he understood that too. Long, lithe fingers curl against his chest, the pressure enough to hold him present. Satoru’s gaze was distant & limpid, purling, fierce blue. Earning his gaze was a portent of harrowing defeat, he was a god-like incarnation, the world ebbing & flowing around the places his fingers commanded. In this nondescript hotel room, with its off-white sheets & its low hanging light fixtures, he was delineated with an intense sorrow. It was compelling enough to slither around his ribs, settle in the apertures around his heart & tighten. His next breath was tremulous, akin to a long-held sigh. “ Satoru.” it’s a heady voice that calls his name, once breathless & impregnated with lust, now it evinces the exhaustion that had festered within him for all of those years. Even with that conviction & his antipathy to jujutsu society, how could he ignore the way his confident lilt waned into a sound not unlike a plea. It was as if the revered Suguru Geto was admonishing him. “ You as well as I know the reasons why that cannot be.”

His hand reaches out, rests the back of it against the pallor of his cheek, he doesn’t balk before him. “ How would things change for us if I returned ?” it’s spoken softly, as if he were appeasing his wounded heart. “ From a place amongst their ranks all we can do is as they say & die a death they approve of.” A sentiment of remorse curves at the corners of his mouth, he has never regretted his decision of leaving, only that it was Satoru who was left behind. “ Would it not be selfish if I asked you the same thing ?” a half-mast gaze cast upon him, dark eyes immuring. “ What would you do Satoru ? If I asked you to leave.” 

[raytm]

In a world governed wholly by satoru’s capricious whims only suguru was adequately equipped to appease him. It was only his command over those satoru-centric skills that could serve as a buffer between him & earning the animosity of every other sorcerer to dare to infringe upon his personally set & arbitrarily decided set of rules. It was an achievement to grasp even a fraction of them but it didn’t take more than a withering glare from an indignant satoru for them to be enforced. In the end was it not far easier to circumvent him entirely rather than risk being on the receiving end of his ire. He doesn’t like when he’s denied. Ah, there it was, the petulant rebuttal that accompanied the dismissal of his abruptly declared ‘ unbearably boring ’ book. ❝ I wouldn’t be so harsh if you weren’t so childish. ❞ he feigned reprimand & the ensuing gratuitous wriggling is ignored with the utmost decorum, even as greedy hands trespass into his pockets & liberate the candy which satoru insisted was intentionally placed. nothing went undetected by his astute gaze, especially not when it came to suguru. ❝ ah, you caught me. ❞ he mused, through his peripheries a witness to the smug - triumph that flits over his features, evoking a sigh both insincere & defeated. ❝ satoru, I know you too well to believe you would fall for something so obvious.❞  intention unearthed or otherwise there was an appeal in the enthusiastic way those deft fingers tug at the translucent plastic & the momentary reprieve he was given, dark eyes descend back to the pages of his book, resolved to ignore him for a little longer. satoru wasn’t abiding by suguru’s disrespect any longer & the offending book was banished with a rush of cursed energy, toppling to the floor & laying splayed woefully, revealing all that he would no longer be able to read.

satoru sweeps in & steals for himself a kiss to the corner of suguru’s mouth, still glowing with the exaltation of thwarting his friends iniquitous plans. Even if he were convinced he had won, his long legs languorously strewn across suguru’s lap had ceased in their incessant squirming & that was a victory, short-lived or otherwise. ❝  smarter than me ? ❞  affront so apparent as to be utterly convincing, his mouth aggrieved & downturned at the corners. ❝ are you sure about that ? ❞ the hint of a smile is a traitor to his facade, the challenge in his dark eyes entirely amused. Gracile fingers, still coated in a thin layer of shimmering gloss reach out & grasp the side of his jaw, steering him away only to lean in & finally, satoru’s sulking had earned him a response & it was a kiss, chaste & fleeting, against his mouth. ❝ maybe i planned all of this, did you consider that ? ❞

ㅤㅤㅤ𝒊𝒕  𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅  𝒃𝒆  𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒅  𝒂𝒔  𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆,  how  much  of  a  nuisance  satoru  gojo  can  make  himself  out  to  be.  and  for  all  that  talent  -  suguru's  patience  with  him  was  a  vast  and  bottomless  well,  never  truly  tested  even  when  blue-eye's  arrogance  became  too  much  to  handle.  there  was  a  part  of  him  that  knew  he'd  never  find  another  friend  like  suguru  -  a  part  of  him  that  knew  he'd  never  find  someone  to  complete  him  so  wholly  and  truly.  but  it  also  was  not  in  satoru's  emotional  range  to  comprehend  how  to  properly  express  that  yet...  so  he  settled  on  this.  once  infinity  had  dropped  and  he'd  touched  the  other  in  a  casual  manner  -  suguru's  personal  space  had  become  nonexistent.  for  a  pair  that  argued  endlessly,  it  had  become  more  commonplace  now  to  find  them  just  as  they  were,  a  hand  or  body  part  pressed  together  and  satoru  pinning  a  rather  aggravated  gaze  on  anyone  who  dare  infringe  upon  his  coveted  infinity-less  touch  time.  or  something.  he  tried  not  to  think  too  hard  about  it.  

ㅤㅤㅤthe  way  impish  features  soften  with  the  pressing  of  their  foreheads,  the  way  the  entire  long  lines  of  the  sorcerer's  strong  frame  immediately  seems  to  release  tension  is  just  one  of  the  many  clear  results  of  what  had  been  labeled  'the  suguru  effect'  (  it  only  worked  on  him  ).  white  lashes  dust  over  his  cheek,  azure  hues  following  each  and  every  movement,  as  if  he's  waiting  for  the  other  to  cave  to  his  whims,  to  fall  prey  to  satoru  gojo's  never  ending  waves  of  charm  and-  

ㅤㅤㅤhandsome  face  splits  with  a  scowl.  denied.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝  always  so  harsh.  ❞  he  gripes  petulantly,  and  discards  his  own  book  somewhere  on  the  ground  with  a  thump.  there  is  much  gratuitous  wiggling  afterwards,  satoru's  legs  and  frame  contorting  until  he  can  very  brazenly  shove  his  long  fingers  into  the  pocket  of  his  companion's  pants.  snatching  his  prize,  he  withdraws  the  wrapped  strawberry  candy  with  nothing  short  of  victory  flitting  across  his  features  -  as  if  he'd  just  vanquished  the  most  powerful  of  curses  with  minimal  effort.  truly,  a  legendary  feat  of  jujutsu.  ❝  you  planned  this  huh?  you  knew  i'd  get  restless  so  you  put  candy  in  your  pockets  to  distract  me  from  whatever  i  wanted.  well  i'll  have  you  know,  suguru-  ❞

ㅤㅤㅤit's  true  petulance  now,  that  has  a  small  blast  of  cursed  energy  smacking  into  suguru's  book  -  sending  it  careening  into  the  distance.  satoru,  for  his  part,  keeps  their  gazes  locked  and  appears  oh-so  utterly  smug  with  his  trick.  ❝  it  won't  work.  'm  smarter  than  that.  ❞  and  he  seals  his  declaration  with  a  kiss  -  the  warm,  sticky,  cherry-flavored  lip  gloss  pressing  victoriously  to  the  corner  of  the  other  sorcerer's  mouth,  ❝  maybe  even  smarter  than  you.  ❞  

[raytm]

he's just gonna sit by Suguru and not say a word.

Within Suguru something had begun to decay. It reveals itself in the vacuity of his gaze, that spark of fervour having shuddered & dimmed before being eclipsed in darkness. It was different now, in a way that cannot be rectified by that proximity, even if he extended his hand to cross that vast distance his touch might never be received. They had changed. It wasn’t like Satoru to lapse into silence like this. It’s enough to lead him back, even if retracing his steps was to become inconsequential, compelling his attention to be held captive by the intensity of Satoru’s gaze. A soft, incredulous sigh dispels the silence, that even now, whilst he drowned in dark, fetid waters, Satoru Gojo could sit beside him & his next breath would be less excruciating.

❝ This isn’t like you, ❞despite its nonchalance there’s something off about it, raw & guttural, as if he could have laughed with how ludicrous it was. So he breaches the distance, just enough so that their knees might almost brush. ❝ Come now Satoru, do you really have nothing to say to me? ❞

[raytm]

Once, he had been the unfaltering resolve, the profound understanding that those with power owed it to the weak to protect them. How was it then, that such altruism had never once served them, those who bore the burden becoming a sacrifice to a grand concept of the greater good. Nothing good came from it, it was a thankless undertaking, where death was perhaps the only mercy afforded to them. With how rattled he had been, that fortified resolve collapsing, the collateral is his mental state. Ever since then had Suguru not been deteriorating, no matter how many successful assignments he executed the taste was acrid, bile creeping up his throat, swallowing around every curse that ended up at his disposal. Their paths had diverged, was that a mercy, that he could watch as Satoru ascended further & further from him, that many things that had once held such meaning became meaningless. Was it inevitable that he would fade from Satoru’s sight, the skies above far more riveting than the squalor below. How long had it been since he’s spoken to him like this, hadn’t felt like he was choking something down. This is messed up, we’re messed up. It was such an astute judgment, even if it rendered him silent for a moment, churning through the torrent of emotions it evoked. This was what they were made for, what sorcerer’s were intended for, saving the weak at the expense of themselves. It’s a bitter revelation, he wonders now, with how twisted he became, if his answer to that question before would have differed. Both of their expressions are absent of the enthusiasm he now recognized for what it was, ignorance.

“ Would it make a difference?” Suguru, who had been part of what steered them away from falling into a dark, irredeemable place, says so carelessly, as if death held little meaning. If they died could they not be replaced, would the call for sorcerers dissipate if they were disposed of. His dark gaze flits down to his hands, boring into the prominent ridges of his knuckles, gaunt fingers curling into his hand. “ Killing them, will it change the way things are ?” His cadence is hollow but he cannot disagree with Satoru now, would there not be a part of him that felt righteous satisfaction seeing them violently slaughtered. Slowly, his gaze returns to Satoru, the slant of his shoulders holds all of that corrosive fatigue. “ Do you want me to stop you ?” he regards him from that distance, still craving & missing the closeness that felt so normal around him. “ I won't.” 

Cont. [x] // @raytm

For every step forward he feels as though he stumbles backward almost as much. There is so much on his mind, swept off by these looping thoughts and locked out of reality. It is his emotional health that speaks most clearly in the silence. He is the strongest, he can provide with his power. He’s always won, even at the brink of death. The world is in the palm of his hands. Then why…

Why does it feel like he’s losing something— someone— right now?

Treading on eggshells, afraid of the consequences that his words would provoke. He is the king of rambling but his tongue is naturally sharp. He is an enigma on the battlefield, perfectly capable of handling every situation. Nothing stops him from getting what he wants. But this isn’t a battle, nor anything like he’s used to. He’s not used to losing. So when he sensed Suguru slipping away from his fingers, they could only respond in what he is the best at— forming a hand sign, a symbol of his most powerful attack. Not towards Suguru, no. Towards the barrier that has been placed between both of them. An act of defense on his emotional behalf, frustrated that for the first time he truly felt powerless. He couldn’t apply reverse-cursed technique, or any other technique for that matter, to fix it all. And that drove him nuts.

The warmth against his knee snaps him out of his thought process, his brooding eyes peering at Suguru from their peripheral vision. He’s still here. He’s not gone away. That prompts a brief internal panic, masked by the look of false indifference. If he doesn’t say anything now, would he ever have the chance again to?

“ This is messed up. We’re messed up. ”

He even told Yaga the higher-ups ain’t doing shit to better their experience as jujutsu sorcerers.

“ Should I kill them— ” The higher-ups.

This brings him back to when he held the lifeless body of Amanai and posed the same question to Suguru.

“ What would you like me to do? Tell me. I’ll do whatever. ” For us.

“ I don’t care. I don’t feel a thing. Not for them. ” But for you— I do.

[raytm]

Suguru had been a withered & decaying thing since the death of the riko amanai, each curse swallowed around ossified in his throat, clung to the slick walls of his oesophagus & began to burgeon into something gruesome. It was a revelation in finality, depicted in the darkness of a body - bag closed out of respect, respect — for who ? Then, an inexorable plunge into despair, so steep that as he fell, graceless & blighted by anguish, it peeled away all that made him virtuous. Like the rind of a fruit, each layer stripped from flesh exposing the writhing, rotting insides & Satoru far too ascended from that squalor to extend a hand to heave him free from the endless, stygian sea. It wasn’t his responsibility to extricate Suguru, he hadn’t reached out in the first place.  To cast his gaze back upon it now, inured to their sins, he could not bring himself to feel even a slither of remorse. Still, the limpid, seething blue of Satoru’s eyes divulged such an immense sadness, all of those violent waves crashing into one another, enough to evoke a hollow, repentant sound from between his pursed lips, akin to laughter. As if it were an echo to days foregone was he not petulant, imploring Suguru to return to him had little to do with the good that could come from it & more to do with a selfish, consuming longing. It would eat at them both until their flesh was whittled away to blanched bones & a haunting legacy, the carrion birds perched on their gilded thrones would only look on in contempt for them. There was never going to be a different outcome, so he will take all of the mercies afforded to him, this one of carnality, as if it’s all he could ever need. 

Perhaps he had also been pretending, adorned in the skins of a revered & benevolent leader, all of his cruelty concealed with remedies for the inane requests of the masses. He could not mantle himself in that facade & convince the one person who knew him wholly that it was the truth. Even if his reflection wore the carved smile of a wicked deity & his dark eyes became cavernous, Satoru Gojo would see the fractures of the young, determined sorcerer he once was. He had buried that self, with his own two hands dealt his execution, yet, even if he could no longer see, those penetrating eyes would call him again to the surface. What a cruel thing he was. 

The ire that had churned within Satoru had waned, the violent intensity of his fingers boring into Suguru’s shoulders, his teeth sinking into supple skin, had become docile. In the aftermath of that euphoric, receding high it felt like they could have, for just a moment, breached that distance that stretched before him. Satoru’s arms confine him, hands leaving impressions on the pillows & in that moment, hovering over the heretic, he is painted in resplendence, even within that wan, yellow light he was the only god within these four, hallowed walls. Suguru should have realized long ago, he would never reach Satoru Gojo again. Dark eyes caress him, down to the mouth wet & kiss - bitten, listening with an attentiveness no loathed follower would ever earn. ❝ There’s no turning back from this path, since the beginning I’ve know that.❞ With their foreheads touching, Satoru’s mouth caresses his with each subsequent utterance, it felt divine, how blasphemous. Each kiss was all the repentance he would ever give. He wondered if Satoru could taste the revolting traces of curses upon his tongue. ❝ I’ll wait for you, for that day. ❞ His executioner hewn from the bones of his beloved, what a fate theirs was.  ❝ Don’t keep me waiting for too long, Satoru.❞

ㅤㅤㅤ𝒊𝒏  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔  𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕  𝒉𝒂𝒅  𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅  𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏  them,  satoru  had  revisited  everything  that  led  up  to  this  moment  with  every  ounce  of  his  intellect,  combed  over  each  change  -  narrowing  in  on  where  it  all  went  wrong,  and  sinking  his  teeth  into  the  tragedy  with  the  raw  screams  of  a  man  who  had  failed.  gojo  satoru  did  not  admit  failure  -  and  he  knew  he  could  drive  himself  into  the  grave  with  the  'what  ifs'  and  'i  should  haves.'  but  it  was  a  failure  -  it  had  all  been  a  horrible,  rotten  failure.  from  the  moment  toji  fushiguro  had  sunk  that  cursed  tool  into  his  neck,  to  the  moment  suguru  turned  his  back  on  him  in  front  of  a  kentucky  fried  chicken  -  it  had  all  gone  so  wrong.  and  even  then,  it  had  still  taken  the  sorcerer  time  -  too  much  time  -  to  realize  that  if  he'd  been  with  suguru,  if  they'd  just  leaned  on  each  other  a  little  more...  if  he  had  just  seen  the  signs...  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsatoru  sighs.

ㅤㅤㅤhere,  ensconced  in  the  warmth  of  one  another's  bodies,  satoru  can  let  the  madness  ebb  away,  let  six  eyes  close  and  infinity  drop  to  nothingness  because  he  liked  to  pretend  -  liked  to  pretend  it  never  happened.  in  a  perfect  world,  suguru  would  still  be  allied  with  the  school  -  perhaps  instruct,  just  like  him.  in  a  perfect  world,  this  wouldn't  be  a  random  hotel  room  -  but  their  apartment,  their  own  bed  -  made  up  of  the  softest  sheets.  suguru  would  bring  satoru  home  his  favorite  sweet  snacks,  satoru  would  still  brush  his  hair  in  the  mornings,  and  they  would  work  as  a  perfectly  synchronized  unit,  unfettered  by  the  blood  of  innocents  and  the  opinions  born  from  it.  but  this  was  no  perfect  world,  and  satoru  could  only  pretend  for  perhaps  a  day  at  a  time  -  before  reality  set  back  in  and  the  distance  between  them  grew  greater.  

ㅤㅤㅤhe  leans  into  the  softness  of  his  hand  -  receptive,  in  their  glowing  aftermath.  when  they'd  first  started  the  physical  nature  of  this...  situation,  satoru  had  been  all  teeth  and  growls,  taking  out  his  frustration  with  suguru's  betrayal  in  making  their  couplings  as  occasionally  rough  as  possible.  but  as  time  drifted  by,  satoru  found  himself  willing  to  bend  in  the  ways  he'd  always  wanted  to  -  to  instead  sheath  his  claws  and  enjoy  the  sins  between  them  as  opposed  to  reap  both  punishment  and  reward  upon  suguru's  flesh.  thus  they  would  end  up  like  this,  the  world's  strongest  sorcerer  leaning  into  the  simplest  of  touches,  his  arrestive  blue  eyes  filled  not  with  power...  but  something  he  dare  not  voice.  not  anymore.  neither  of  them  deserved  it.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝  what  would  i  do?  ❞     he  muses,  but  doesn't  answer  just  yet.  instead,  both  hands  place  themselves  upon  the  pillow  beside  spilled  dark  hair  -  and  he  hauls  himself  upwards,  naked  frame  then  propped  up  by  his  elbows.  their  faces  are  closer  now  -  so  he  can  see  the  darkness  of  the  other's  eyes,  the  kiss-stained  rim  of  his  lips.     ❝  i...  ❞     bite  covered  throat  bobs,  tongue  darting  across  his  lips,    ❝  maybe  once.  maybe  once  in  the  past,  i  would  have  left  just  to  try  to  stop  you.  ❞    their  foreheads  drop  together.     ❝  but  we're  too  far  gone  now,  suguru.  you  know  that,  right?  ❞    it's  soft,  agonizing,  the  way  his  mouth  caresses  so  slowly  against  the  curse  eater's  own,  almost  as  if  in  apology,  and  his  next  whispered  words  are  a  promise:     ❝  one  day,  i'll  have  to  kill  you  instead.  ❞ // @raytm ( con't )

[raytm]

Serenity an ephemeral concept when Satoru’s concentration waned into stark disinterest, the book splayed across his thighs abysmal in the entertainment department, especially in contrast to his friend, who was now at the epicenter of his attention. It wasn’t as if he were bothered, placating him even when his whims proved capricious was part of Suguru’s Satoru-centric skillset. It didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t also inclined to provoke him, mere teasing culminating into endless trouble. It was why when the two of them were together, they were both the most powerful sorcerers jujutsu high had seen & also a pair that brought about all sorts of chaos. For now, Satoru’s impulses only stretched so far as to smear glittering gloss across his hindering fingers & the pallor of his cheeks. Suguru, however, doesn't give in to his whims until he’s peering at him through his lashes, the intensity of his blue - eyes paired with his petulantly jutting bottom lip enough to earn Suguru’s entire attention.

He lowers to flush their foreheads together, his complaint loud & clear, he was no longer satisfied with his temporary seating. Suguru’s focus, which until then had been upon the book now pendulously clasped between his fingers, was an offense he just couldn’t abide. “ If I don’t give you my attention you’re going to continue kissing me ?” they’re so close now that both books are disregarded, it doesn’t mean he’s finished with his provocation, instead, he casts his gaze over the curve of Satoru’s shoulder, as if he was finished listening. “ Go on, I’m not finished with this.” 

@raytm (  con't  )

ㅤㅤㅤ𝒇𝒐𝒓  𝒂  𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓  𝒈𝒐𝒅-𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆  𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒘𝒉𝒐  𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕  up  a  literal  barrier  around  the  rest  of  the  world  100%  of  the  time,  suguru  was  a  constant  exception.  it  was  really  almost  unconscious  now,  infinity  ebbing  away  when  satoru  decided  that  why,  yes,  suguru's  warmth  was  also  his  warmth  -  his  touch  his  given  right  -  and  his  space  his  very  own.  not  a  day  went  by  that  he  wasn't  draped  languorously  about  his  broader  frame,  long  limbs  clinging  with  a  near  desperate  sort  of  implication  that  belied  just  how  depraved  he  was  of  actual,  genuine  touch.  satoru's  new  found  nuisance  came  in  the  wake  of  a  ridiculous,  cherry  flavored  lip  gloss  -  another  thing  that  looked  a  bit  too  good  on  him  to  be  considered  normal.  indeed,  he  was  enjoying  finding  creative  ways  to  consistently  entice  suguru's  attention  to  him,  and  him  only,  and  the  flavor  of  gloss  over  smooth  cheek  in  a  variable  assault  rifle  of  kisses  was  par  for  the  course.  

ㅤㅤㅤin  the  lowered  (  tolerable  )  lights  of  the  room,  satoru  looks  up  at  him  through  snow  white  lashes,  unending  azure  of  sky's  gaze  (  so  much  there,  so  much  power,  such  a  curse  -  but  full  of  adoration  for  suguru  and  suguru  only-  ).  bottom  lip  juts  out  briefly,  a  sign  of  impish  displeasure,  before  he  drops  his  forehead  to  warm  temple,  nose  nuzzling  close  instead.  ❝  do  i  have  to  be?  ❞  he  bemoans,  the  mile  long  legs  thrown  across  suguru's  lap  wiggling  in  protest.  ❝  this  book  is  boring.  ❞  he  refers  to  the  text  nestled  atop  his  own  legs,  one  that  he'd  been  reading  alongside  suguru  until  sugar  addled  brain  decided  twenty  whole  minutes  of  no  direct  attention  was  long  enough,  and  thusly  the  lip  gloss  assault  began.  ❝  i'm  much  more  interesting,  su-gu-ru.  ❞  look  at  me  instead.