#contract clause

[izumkay]

THE CONTRACT CLAUSE- |CH-1|

—SATORU GOJO

ღPairing- SatoruGojo×Fem!Reader

ღSummary- Thanks to your friend, Haibara, you land a job at the country’s top company—but CEO Satoru Gojo? He’s not impressed. Between causing him trouble and his infuriating charm, you quickly become his favorite target. But when things take an unexpected turn, Gojo finds himself in a position he never thought he’d be—desperate, frustrated, and drawn to you in ways he can’t ignore. The office just got a lot more dangerous—and a lot more heated.

Genres/tags- Modern AU, love triangle, Enemies to lovers, contract marriage, office romance, Sunshine×Grumpy, fluff, tension, forced proximity, Satoru is desperate for you, why not?

Warnings- 18+ only, sexual content, toxicity, angst, hate sex, mentions of death, blood, hurt/comfort, obsession, possessiveness, SA attempts.

Wc- 6.1k

♡A/n- and here's another series, kinda getting wild writting 4 fics at same time, my hands been itching to write this, and here it is, hope you enjoy this series😋

Next chapter!

You never expected to land a job at one of the most prestigious companies in the country. But here you were, walking through the gleaming halls of a corporate empire, thanks to your friend Haibara. He’d been raving about the opportunity for weeks, insisting you’d be perfect for it, despite the fact that your background wasn’t exactly corporate royalty.

"Don’t worry," Haibara said with a wink as he led you into the building, "Gojo’s an easy guy to get along with. Just don’t take him too seriously."

Easy? From what you’d heard about the CEO, Satoru Gojo was anything but easy. The man was a legend—charming, brilliant, and with a reputation for making life hell for anyone who crossed him. Not exactly the kind of person you’d expect to have an easy time with.

When Haibara introduced you to Gojo in the lobby, you weren’t sure what you were expecting. But when the CEO turned around, grinning like he owned the world, it was worse than you could’ve imagined.

"Ah, so this is the famous friend of Haibara," Gojo said, his tone light but his eyes scanning you with obvious amusement. "Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you."

You frowned, unsure how to take that. Haibara had warned you about Gojo’s charm, but you couldn’t help the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

"I’m sure you have," you replied coolly, "It’s hard not to leave an impression."

Gojo’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, trust me, I’m sure you’ll leave quite an impression here too."

You didn’t like the sound of that, but Haibara quickly ushered you away, probably sensing the tension already building.

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The first day at the company went exactly as you’d expected—awkward and filled with subtle judgments. As Haibara had promised, most people were friendly enough, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that some of them were sizing you up, like they didn’t quite believe you belonged. But nothing prepared you for your interactions with Gojo.

For the first few days, he kept his distance—mostly. But then came the first meeting, a big one that you’d been nervously preparing for. You had to present some data that, frankly, you weren’t entirely confident about. Just as you were halfway through your presentation, you heard Gojo’s voice cut through your nerves.

“Actually,” he interrupted with a cocky smile, “I think the numbers are wrong. Did you check these?”

Your stomach sank as all eyes in the room turned to you. Gojo leaned back in his chair, watching with mild amusement, his usual playful grin now tinged with a hint of superiority.

“I—I’m sure they’re accurate,” you stammered, trying to regain your footing. But Gojo didn’t back down.

"Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve missed a few important figures." His eyes glinted as he leaned forward, a mock-serious tone in his voice. "Maybe next time, you should double-check your work before presenting it."

You could feel the heat rising in your face. The room was silent, all attention on you. You glanced at Haibara, who gave you a sheepish smile, clearly not expecting this level of public humiliation.

“Gojo, I—” You cut yourself off, the urge to snap at him bubbling up. “Maybe you should check your own numbers first before you criticize mine.”

There was a brief, stunned silence before Gojo let out a laugh, loud and infectious. “Oh, I like you.” His eyes twinkled, and the way he looked at you felt more like a challenge than anything else. "Keep it up."

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The rest of the meeting was a blur. Every word you spoke felt like it was being analyzed, judged, and immediately met with Gojo’s cool, unbothered responses. By the time it ended, you were completely drained.

Haibara found you standing in the hallway afterward, clearly trying to regain some composure. “Hey, don’t let him get to you,” he said, offering a grin that was a little too wide to be comforting. "Gojo’s just... Gojo. He’s always like that with new people. He’ll come around."

You shot him a look. “If by ‘come around,’ you mean ‘make my life miserable,’ then yeah, I’m sure he will.”

Haibara laughed nervously, clearly not expecting this much tension so soon. “Just... try not to let him get under your skin too much. I know he’s a pain, but it’s all part of the job.”

You stared after Gojo’s retreating form, already plotting your next move. If he thought this was a game, well... you weren’t about to lose.

“He literally humiliated me during today’s presentation, Haibara,” you said through gritted teeth, storming down the hallway. “I was trying to make a good impression, and he—he mocked me in front of everyone.”

Haibara sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I warned you about Gojo. He’s… a lot. But that’s just how he is with everyone new. He likes to test people.”

“Test people?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “He practically made me look like a complete idiot. I’ll never live that down.”

Haibara gave you a sympathetic look, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. “Look, I get it. It’s not fun. But the thing about Gojo is, if he’s teasing you, it means he’s paying attention. He doesn’t waste his time on people he doesn’t care about.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “Wait… you mean he does this to everyone? Just to mess with them?”

Haibara nodded, almost reluctantly. “Yeah. He’s not exactly known for being subtle. But if you can put up with it, you’ll see a different side of him. Trust me.”

“Great.” You sighed. “Now I’m supposed to just... what? Endure his reign of terror until he decides to show me that ‘different side?’”

“Exactly,” Haibara said, half-grinning. “And I’m pretty sure he’ll find a way to make it up to you—somehow. It’s just the way he works.”

You looked down the hallway, where Gojo had disappeared into his office. “I swear, I’m going to make him regret ever messing with me.”

Haibara just chuckled. “Careful what you wish for. Gojo’s not as easy to outsmart as you think.”

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The company cafeteria was bustling as usual, but you were in no mood to enjoy it. After the disaster of your first presentation, you'd barely managed to salvage your dignity. All you wanted was some peace and quiet with your lunch before heading back to work.

You were mid-bite when a shadow fell over your table.

"Well, if it isn’t my favorite new employee," a familiar, infuriating voice drawled.

You looked up to see Gojo, his signature cocky smile plastered across his face. He held a coffee cup in one hand and a perfectly balanced tray of food in the other, looking like he had all the time in the world. Without asking, he slid into the seat across from you.

"What do you want, Gojo?" you asked, your voice flat.

He leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered by your tone. “Nothing, really. I just thought I’d check in on you after that interesting performance in the meeting earlier. You know, see how you’re holding up.”

Your jaw tightened. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Are you, though?” he teased, resting his chin on his hand. “Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your laptop at me.”

You gripped your fork tightly. “I was two seconds away from throwing my shoe at you.”

Gojo laughed, loud enough to draw attention from nearby tables. “See? That’s the kind of passion I like to see in my employees. Keep that up, and you might actually survive here.”

You glared at him, your appetite completely gone. “Do you always make a habit of humiliating people in front of their colleagues, or am I just lucky?”

His smile faltered for the briefest moment, but then it was back, brighter than ever. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad. If anything, I was helping you toughen up. This industry isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.”

You didn’t bother responding, choosing instead to stab at your salad with a little too much force. Gojo, of course, didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.

“You know,” he continued, as if he hadn’t already said enough, “if you ever need pointers on how to actually impress people in a meeting, I’d be happy to help. Just say the word.”

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stood abruptly. “You know what, Gojo? I don’t need your ‘help.’ What I need is for you to stop making my life a living hell.”

Without waiting for his response, you grabbed your tray and walked away, ignoring the amused chuckles that followed you. You could practically feel his smug grin burning into your back as you stormed out of the cafeteria.

You could feel the weight of other employees’ eyes on you as you stormed out of the cafeteria. It wasn’t hard to guess why—The Satoru Gojo had been sitting across from you, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world, and you had dared to talk to him so casually, like he was nothing.

Whispers trailed behind you as you made your way to the elevator.

“Did you see how she talked to him?”

“Who even is she?”

“I heard Haibara got her the job…”

You clenched your fists, willing yourself not to turn around and snap at them. Of course, they were surprised. Gojo wasn’t just the CEO; he was practically a legend around here—charming, untouchable, and so ridiculously good-looking it made you sick. People probably bent over backward to please him, and yet here you were, treating him like the pain in the ass he was.

You pressed the elevator button with more force than necessary, muttering under your breath. “Why does he have to be so insufferable? Couldn’t he just ignore me like a normal boss?”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside, leaning back against the wall with a sigh. As much as you hated to admit it, Gojo’s charm was dangerous—not because it worked on you, but because it made everyone else act like he could do no wrong.

But you? You saw through him. Beneath that perfect smile and effortless confidence was just a guy who got off on making people’s lives harder. Well, if he thought you were going to be another one of his fans, he had another thing coming.

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Your shift finally ended, and the office was slowly emptying out as employees trickled toward the elevators. Letting out a sigh of relief, you pushed back in your chair, relaxing for the first time all day. Stretching your arms above your head, you savored the feeling of being done.

Grabbing your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and stood, ready to make your way home. But just as you turned, someone tapped your shoulder. Startled, you spun around to see a woman standing behind you.

She had brown hair, and though her dark circles made her look utterly exhausted, there was an air of calmness about her that instantly put you at ease. She looked like someone who had been through a lot but didn’t let it faze her.

“Hey, newbie,” she greeted, her voice soft and unhurried, as though the chaos of the office didn’t touch her. “I’m Shoko Ieiri. Pleasure to meet you.”

There was no sharpness, no judgment in her tone—just simple politeness. You felt your shoulders relax a little more.

You gave her a small smile and introduced yourself in return.

Shoko nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag. “I’ve seen you around. Figured I’d say hello before you got swallowed up by this place.” She gestured around the emptying office with a faint smirk.

You chuckled nervously. “Yeah, it’s… definitely been an interesting first few days.”

“Let me guess,” she said, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “Gojo?”

The way she said his name, with just a hint of exasperation, made you laugh despite yourself. “How’d you know?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Oh, he has a habit of singling people out. Likes to see how much he can push before they snap. Don’t let it get to you. He’s harmless—mostly.”

“Mostly?” you repeated, skeptical.

Shoko smirked. “He’s annoying, not evil. Though sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.” She tilted her head, studying you. “You stood up to him, didn’t you?”

Your face flushed slightly, and you shrugged. “I wasn’t about to just sit there and let him walk all over me.”

Shoko’s smirk widened into a small grin. “Good. He needs someone to put him in his place every once in a while. Just… don’t let him get too under your skin. That’s what he wants.”

You weren’t sure whether her advice was comforting or ominous, but it was nice to have at least one ally in this place.

“Well, thanks for the heads-up,” you said with a small smile.

Shoko waved you off. “No problem. And if you ever need a break from Gojo’s nonsense, come find me. I’m usually in the infirmary—or hiding on the roof.”

With that, she gave you a lazy wave and headed toward the elevators, leaving you standing there feeling a little less alone in this chaotic new world.

She's hot.

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The next few days were a blur of work, tension, and Gojo’s irritatingly constant presence. Each time you saw him, you could practically feel the weight of his eyes on you, his gaze a mix of amusement and challenge. It was like he was always waiting for you to crack, and you weren’t about to give him that satisfaction.

It wasn’t until a week later that things took a strange turn.

You were in the breakroom, pouring yourself a coffee when you heard footsteps approach from behind. Before you could turn around, a voice cut through the quiet hum of the room.

"Mind if I join you?"

You didn’t have to look to know it was Gojo. His voice was unmistakable.

You paused for a moment, then finally turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you... allowed in the breakroom?"

Gojo chuckled, clearly amused by your sarcasm. "I run this place, remember? I’m allowed wherever I want."

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your cool. "Right. Forgot about that."

He leaned casually against the counter, his presence taking up way too much space in the room. "You’re still holding a grudge about the meeting, huh?"

"Why would I not be?" You shot back, folding your arms. "You made me look like an idiot in front of everyone."

Gojo grinned. "I didn’t make you look like an idiot. I just pointed out what you missed. No big deal."

"No big deal?" You shook your head in disbelief. "That’s easy for you to say."

Gojo took a slow sip of his coffee, eyeing you with that infuriating, confident look. "You’ll get over it."

You felt the heat rise in your chest. “I’m not getting over it, Gojo. Not until you apologize.”

He blinked at you, as if surprised. “Apologize?”

“Yes, apologize,” you repeated firmly. “For humiliating me.”

For a moment, Gojo was silent. Then, in a tone that sounded way too calm for your liking, he said, "I don’t do apologies."

You stared at him, trying to suppress the frustration building inside you.

Gojo’s smile softened, just slightly, as he leaned closer. "But I do know how to make it up to people. If you’re willing to let me."

Before you could respond, he was already walking out, leaving you standing there, once again at a loss for words.

What's his problem? Fucking bastard.

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It was lunchtime, and you were more than ready to get away from your desk for a bit of peace and quiet. You grabbed your lunch from your bag, planning to eat in solitude, away from the chaos of the office. The thought of being alone, if only for a little while, was comforting.

But as you started to make your way toward the breakroom, two girls appeared in front of you. They were dressed similarly—well-put-together, with matching smiles that felt a little too rehearsed.

“Hey, newbie,” one of them said in a sweet voice that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Wanna have lunch with us?”

You hesitated, glancing at the two of them. You weren’t in the mood for small talk. You just wanted to eat in peace. "Uh, no, you can go on, thanks," you replied, already feeling the discomfort of the situation.

But they didn’t move. Instead, they exchanged a look, almost like they were trying to decide something. Then, the other girl spoke up. “Come on, we’d love to get to know you better. You don’t want to eat alone, do you?”

You could feel the pressure mounting. It was clear they weren’t going to take no for an answer. You sighed, trying to keep your frustration in check.

“Really, it’s fine. I’m just—”

But the first girl cut you off, her tone more insistent now. “It’s not a big deal. We’ve already got a spot saved for you.”

They stepped forward, practically guiding you down the hallway toward the cafeteria. Your resistance was futile. They were pulling you into their orbit whether you liked it or not.

You shot a look of exasperation at them, but they only smiled sweetly, too sweetly, as if they had no idea how fake it all felt.

Great. Just what I need.

You let out a small groan as they guided you into the crowded cafeteria, making your way to a table at the far end, far enough to feel isolated from the rest of the office. They both sat down, pulling out their lunch with practiced ease, waiting for you to sit across from them.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” the first girl insisted, flashing you a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We don’t bite.”

You sat down, feeling the weight of their expectations press down on you. "Thanks," you muttered, unfolding your napkin and trying to focus on your food. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t just trying to be friendly.

“So,” the second girl began, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “How’s your first week been? We heard you’re special—you know, thanks to Haibara.”

You raised an eyebrow, shooting a glance at her. “Special?”

“Oh, we’ve heard all about how Haibara got you the job. He’s quite the popular guy around here,” she said, her tone almost too casual, like she was fishing for something.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you focused on your food, trying to ignore the unease creeping up your spine. But the silence between you was thick, like they were waiting for you to crack, to say something.

It was then that the first girl leaned in slightly, her voice lowering as if she were about to share a secret. “You know, Gojo doesn’t usually take well to people who are… difficult to handle. And Gojo seems pretty interested in you.”

Your grip on your fork tightened. Of course, they knew. It was practically the office gossip by now.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said coolly, trying to hide your growing irritation. “I’m just here to do my job, like everyone else.”

But they weren’t buying it. The second girl smirked, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Oh, we’re sure you’re just here to do your job. But with Gojo, things don’t always go as smoothly as you’d like, right?”

You shot them both a look, your patience running thin. “Is there a point to this conversation, or are you just trying to get under my skin?”

The first girl giggled, but it sounded fake, like a high-pitched attempt to cover up something else. “We’re just saying… be careful. People around here might not be as nice as you think.”

You looked at them both, sensing the underlying threat in their words, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d made a huge mistake by getting caught up in this office politics mess.

But you weren’t about to back down. “Thanks for the warning,” you replied, with as much calm as you could muster. “But I can handle myself.”

The tension in the air was palpable, but they didn’t press further. Instead, they exchanged a look, nodded to each other, and then turned their attention back to their food, as if the conversation had never happened.

But you could feel the weight of their words hanging over you. Be careful.

You weren’t sure if it was their jealousy, or something more sinister, but one thing was clear—this wasn’t just about lunch anymore.

As the lunch continued, the two girls didn’t seem to let up. Instead of wrapping up their conversation, they ordered even more food—each plate arriving in front of them like they were trying to prove something. They smiled at each other, exchanging whispers, occasionally throwing glances your way.

“More food?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as a waiter brought over a massive platter of sushi and another tray of tempura. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

The first girl, who had barely touched her own meal, grinned. “Oh, we’re just hungry. And we thought you might want to try some more things. You know, since you’re still... adjusting to the office.”

You stared at the food, trying to make sense of their behavior. It was becoming clear that they weren’t just offering a kind gesture—they were making a statement. They wanted you to feel out of place, to see how out of their league you were.

“Don’t worry,” the second girl chimed in, her voice almost too sweet for comfort. “We’ll be here to help you with everything. We’re kind of experts around here, after all.”

You caught the undertone in her words, a hint of superiority that made your skin crawl. They weren’t interested in being friends. They were sizing you up, measuring you against their version of the office hierarchy.

Taking a deep breath, you forced a smile and said, “I’m good, really. Thanks.” You didn’t want their charity, nor did you want to be their pawn in whatever game they were playing.

But it didn’t matter. They kept piling food onto the table, filling every empty space as if to make sure you couldn’t escape their clutches. At that moment, you realized they weren’t just trying to be nice—they were trying to show off. They were flexing their power in this place, and you were just the unlucky newcomer caught in their spotlight.

Your stomach churned with the sudden feeling of being trapped. You had to get out.

The two girls continued to push food toward you, their smiles becoming more insistent with each passing minute.

"Come on, you’ve gotta try this," the first girl said, nudging a plate of sushi closer to you. "It’s really good. You wouldn’t want to miss out."

You glanced at the platter, feeling the weight of their gaze on you, the pressure mounting. But there was no way you were going to eat with them—not after everything that had just happened.

You shook your head, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks, but I’m fine. I’m really not that hungry."

They exchanged another look, the kind that made you feel like you were being judged in ways you couldn’t fully comprehend. The second girl raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "Oh, come on, don’t be shy. We ordered all this for you, after all."

You stiffened. All this for me? It was clear now. They weren’t being generous. They were trying to trap you in their world, to make you feel like you owed them something.

"No, really," you said, shaking your head more firmly this time. "I’m not hungry. You can enjoy it yourselves."

The first girl leaned back, folding her arms with a small pout. "You sure? It’s really good."

You met her gaze evenly, refusing to let the discomfort show. "I’m sure. Thanks, but no thanks."

They finally seemed to get the message, though they didn’t look happy about it. They stopped pressing, but the atmosphere around you had shifted. The two girls returned to their food, but there was a coldness in the air now, a silent tension that hung between you.

You pushed your plate away slightly, your appetite completely gone. You could feel the weight of their judgment, like they were watching you closely, waiting for you to slip up, to give in to their pressure.

But you wouldn’t. Not with them.

As you stood up, ready to make your escape from the uncomfortable situation, you couldn’t help but notice that the two girls had devoured every last bite of the food. Of course they did. They were practically setting you up for this.

You sighed, preparing to head back to your desk and pretend this entire ordeal never happened. But as you started to walk away, one of them called out, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Where are you going?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in mock confusion. "Pay for this all first. You were giving us a treat, right?"

You stopped dead in your tracks. A treat? Your stomach dropped as realization hit. There was no way you were treating them. You had barely enough money for your own lunch, let alone the absurd amount of food they had ordered.

You turned around, trying to keep your composure. "What? When did I say that? Look, I don’t even have—"

But before you could finish, the second girl interrupted, her tone more forceful now. "Oh, come on. You said yourself you’d treat us. Pay up." She smirked, like she knew exactly what was going through your mind.

No way.

The cafeteria suddenly felt much smaller. You could feel the eyes of everyone around you, the whispers, the judgment. You had no idea how many people were watching, but it felt like the entire place was waiting for you to make a fool of yourself.

Your heart raced, the beat echoing in your ears. Shit, shit, shit. You felt the blood rush to your face, the heat of embarrassment flooding your cheeks. You didn’t even have enough to cover your own meal, let alone all of this.

"Look, I—I can’t pay for this," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracked, betraying the panic you were feeling.

The first girl’s grin widened. "Really? Because you said you would. And now you’re backing out? Interesting."

The tension in the room was unbearable. It felt like everyone was just waiting for you to crack. The whispers grew louder, and you could feel the judgment pressing down on you. Your hands trembled at your sides.

You glanced around, desperately searching for an escape, but there was none. They had cornered you, and now you were the center of attention in the worst possible way.

The tension in the cafeteria was suffocating. Your face was burning, your stomach twisted in knots. Every pair of eyes seemed to be on you, waiting for you to somehow get out of this mess. You could feel the heat of their gazes, the quiet murmur of voices spreading like wildfire.

The second girl stepped closer, her grin widening. "I guess we’ll just have to tell everyone how generous you are, huh? Backing out of your word like this?"

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your words, but before you could say anything else, the sound of the door to the cafeteria opened, and a calm, deep voice broke through the tension.

"Is there a problem here?"

You turned instinctively toward the voice, and there, standing in the doorway with a quiet confidence, was Suguru Geto.

He was dressed in a sharp suit, his expression cool and composed, like he had just stepped out of a boardroom meeting. Suguru’s gaze shifted from you to the two girls, then back to you, noticing the way you were practically frozen in place, trapped in an impossible situation.

The two girls didn’t seem as confident now, glancing at Suguru with a mix of surprise and unease. Suguru stepped forward, his calm demeanor not shifting an inch.

"What’s going on here?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The first girl opened her mouth to speak, but Suguru raised a hand to stop her, his voice steady but firm. "You’ve been harassing her for a while now. I’m guessing that’s not exactly ‘friendly,’ is it?"

They both fell silent, unsure how to respond. Suguru's presence alone seemed to have a calming effect, though it was clear they weren’t used to someone calling them out so directly.

Finally, Suguru turned to you, his expression softening slightly as he spoke. "Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it."

Without waiting for a reply, Suguru walked over to the counter, where he paid for the entire meal with a few smooth motions, the cashier offering a respectful nod.

Turning back to you, he gave a small smile. "You’re free to go now. I’ll handle the rest."

You stared at him for a moment, your heart still racing, but a small wave of relief washing over you. How did he know to step in?

The girls exchanged a quick, frustrated glance but said nothing. They were no longer in control of the situation. Suguru's intervention had completely shifted the power dynamic, and just like that, you were no longer the center of their mockery.

"Thank you," you muttered, feeling a bit of gratitude and confusion mix together.

Suguru gave a simple nod, his expression still composed. "No problem. You don’t have to thank me. Just... be careful with those two."

With that, he gave you a small, reassuring smile before turning to leave. As he walked away, the weight of the situation seemed to lift, and you let out a long, shaky breath.

You watched Suguru walk away, your heart still racing from the wave of relief that washed over you. The girls were no longer a threat, and you were free from the embarrassment, but something else lingered. Something you hadn’t expected.

As Suguru’s back disappeared through the cafeteria doors, you couldn’t help but feel this rush of gratitude and something else—something deeper, more unsettling. He was so nice. The way he had stepped in, so calm and effortless, his composed demeanor... He had a certain presence that made you feel safe, like no one could touch you as long as he was around.

But there was more than that. You couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when he spoke to you, how his cool gaze seemed to hold your attention with every word.

You had barely known him for a moment, but that moment felt like it had lingered. The way he effortlessly took charge of the situation, the way he seemed to care without any hesitation—it made you want to know more.

His dislikes. His likes. Everything.

What was he like? What did he enjoy? You found yourself curious, almost desperate to find out. You wanted to ask him questions, to uncover every little detail about him, even if you had no idea where to start.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. Focus. You’re at work. You don’t have time to get caught up in this.

But it was hard to ignore the way your pulse quickened whenever you thought about him. Suguru Geto had just saved you from a world of embarrassment, and now all you could think about was how incredibly cool he was.

And, as much as you tried to push it away, a small part of you wondered just how much of that coolness was a façade—and how much was real.

As you made your way back to your desk, your mind kept circling back to the brief interaction with Suguru. The gratitude, the rush of emotions, and the way he had effortlessly handled the entire situation. It wasn’t just about saving you from the awkwardness—it was the way he made you feel seen, like you mattered in a place where you were still just a newcomer.

You sank into your chair, the familiar hum of the office surrounding you, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Suguru Geto. The name echoed in your mind. He was calm, composed, and kind. You didn’t know why, but you wanted to know more. Much more.

You took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside for the moment. Work wasn’t over, and there were plenty of things you still had to get done. But as you opened your laptop, your thoughts lingered on him, on how his presence had felt like an anchor in the chaos.

You shook your head, trying to get back to work. Focus. One thing at a time. But deep down, you knew this was only the beginning of something far more complicated than you could have imagined.

The day went on, but your mind stayed with Suguru. And for some reason, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this was just the start of something far more intriguing than you’d ever anticipated.

A/n- I swear guys this is a Satoru×reader fic, Trust���🔥

Check out my masterlist for more!🩷

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🏷️- @katthekat1234 @ilovejeann @gojobiggestslut @mypenguinobject @belle643

[ikram1909]

https://www.instagram.com/share/reel/BAJDhgQflE

it's soooooo cuteeeeee

One of my favourite things to happen this season fr it was hilarious 😭😭

[spidehpig]

i’m immediately breaking into his batshit crazy house just to ask him what we are after this

[beetlethebug]

chilchuck adamantly insisting every half-foot, especially young ones, put clauses about food and eating requirements within their contracts so they don't get taken advantage of by people who don't understand half-foot biology. so people don't accept that they have to starve to work in this profession. so people don't turn out like him.

[yellbug]

genuinely feeling so much peace in my heart finding out that gaiman was stupid enough to sign a morality clause with dark horse while knowing he did all of that shit. omfg how many of his contracts have a morality clause

[twopoppies]

For the anon Who think they don't want to interact, please, make him read this twitt:

https://x.com/La_Triquetra/status/1812842426450481406?t=7vFUK_Wb22sLCVId_XRNKQ&s=19

"And that's why what happened yesterday is HUGE!

Let's all support this! All the rest is only noise."

Yeah, I don't disagree with them. We were all larrying yesterday because it was fun. But them being in the same space was something way bigger than just "Larry." We'll see what comes of it.

x

[chasedeys]

HI OKAY so like. in honor of these boyfriends sticking together by the grace of god and just sheer fucking stubbornness and taking matters into their own hands (sooooo sexy and also incredibly leaning to the power-of-friendship ass of them btw) and also because i feel sooo shitty for disappearing all of the sudden and ignoring a whole bunch of you </3 (thank you truly for all the sweet messages in my inbox asking me where and how ive been god yall are so sweet) and also it's such a fucking waste of 7k word vomit if i do end up not finishing this thing and i really do want to finish this but im lacking creative juices and honestly just shit time management but anyways. i present to you the mess of joeteemarr fic in its barely finished glory:

(DOOOO PRAYYY THAT I FINISH ITTTTT (i am on my knees) in spite of all the spoilers (?) you'll read through so it'd be like why the hell would you read this again kind of deal but well ahahahah just let me post this and look away okay 😭♥️)

all on his mouth like liquor —joeteemarr

intro — you came, you saw, you conquered // i couldn’t take my eyes off him, i think i heard a spirit call my name (banana yoshimoto, kitchen)

They’re both still in their leather ensemble—’so, did you coordinate the outfits, or?’ ‘ja’marr copied me.’ ‘excuse me? bitch, i’ll kill you.’—like they zoomed their way to Tee’s place immediately right after the game, after stopping by Judith’s for their usual order of burgers and fries.

Tee pokes at his own order of bacon burger, double helping of cheddar cheese and extra garlic, a wobbly little smile poking through when he spots the lovingly sharpied good game 5! the extra pies are for you!!!! don’t let uno eat them!!!!!!!!! on the crinkly wrapping paper. Judith, Cincinnati native, 57 years old and never takes money from Tee’s mother. Thinks Ja’Marr is the funniest man-child on earth and Joe the sweetest.

Ja’Marr has his jacket off now, tank top stretched tight over his shoulders as he slumps over his burgers snarling at Joe to stop stealing his fries. Tee carefully turns his gaze away from dark of his tattoos, the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his biceps when he tries to smack away Joe’s hand right over his burger.

But the thing is, if he looks away, he’s looking towards Joe—Joe, who’s leather jacket with nothing underneath is zipped down to his navel for some godforsaken reason, miles of pale skin and abs and golden hair and pink nipples flashing everytime he twists his torso to try and take Ja’Marr’s entire dinner or avoid his retaliations. Tee has to take away Ja’Marr’s plastic fork before he stabs Joe with it.

(They didn’t coordinate the outfits, by the way. They just ended up wearing something similar again with their weird otherworldly connection that Tee still tries to wrap his head around even now.)

—----------ja’marrs drops. sensitive,dfksdfkapoeskfo

Ja’Marr skirts his eyes away, mouth curling down, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll deal with it Monday.”

Tee breathes out, extends his knee and presses his socked toes to the younger man’s calves. Ja’Marr twitches his leg against his feet, flicking his eyes at him and shooting him a small smile. He’ll be alright.

“No,” Ja’Marr says evenly, staring right at him even as he slams a hand at Joe’s over his plate, “but you were really fucking sexy.”

Tee startles, several clumps of mashed up potato slipping out of his mouth in surprise—real sexy, there. Ja’Marr really has no filter sometimes, calling any person he finds attractive to their faces with zero shame even in front of his boyfriend of however many years. Joe, ever so possessive, rarely even gets bricked up over it, from sheer assurance of his place in Ja’Marr’s heart. Hard not to be, really, with how steadfast and loud Ja’Marr is with his devotion to him. Tee has been called straight up ‘hot as hell’ by the other man for the past years that they’ve known each other and he still gets flustered over it, mostly because. Well. Whatever.

Joe turns his gaze to him as well, pausing his one-man crusade of pilfering his boyfriend’s fries. Tee slows his bites as he stares back, feeling weirdly caught like a prey in a predator’s gaze, a gazelle looking through the tan of the savanna landscape trying to find the glint of a lion’s eyes lurking in between the blades of grass. Joe’s piercing blues flick between his eyes, then slides down, slow, deliberate, purposeful, over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the turn of his chin, the hinge of his jaw still clenched from chewing the meat they bought for him, his—neck exposed by the stretched cotton of his ratty t-shirt, the tangle of his beard, the slight of his Adam’s apple, the nearly healed scar on the left side of his jugular from last week’s razor incident, even the loose hang of his faded clemson t-shirt over his shoulders, the dip of it showing off the skin over his collarbones, not too much to show his pecs, but the sheer force of the older man’s leer makes him—makes him push his fucking tits out like he can’t fucking help himself; shoulders, drawing back; spine, straightening; nipples, pebbling, fucking tingling; goosebumps and hair rising over his arms; toes, curling in—he knows each and every part of his body Joe looks over because the man’s so fucking methodical with it, everything else below his chest hidden beneath the table thank fuck, he thinks, of sorts, maybe, a blessing, a curse, who knows, he’s still trying to chew on his fucking bite of bacon burger the fuck.

Tee chokes on his late swallow—and drinks the puply orange Ja’Marr offers him with an obvious smirk holy shit what the ever living fuck. 

Joe goes back to eating his burger like he didn’t just. Undress Tee with his fucking eyes. What the fuck. What the actual fuck was that. Holy shit did he just experience a junior high schooler’s fantastical imaginary eighth grade period axe body spray doped up version of sex daydream or is he just. Insane. Was the burger spiked. What the fuck was that. 

Tee feels his lips twitch. Wow. They’re really—unsubtle. But, are they, really?

“

—And Ja’Marr growls. Tee startles, laughing up at him, but it’s all cut off short because, wait, holy shit—-

He’s got a lapful of Ja’Marr Chase, situating his ass snugly all over Tee’s thighs with his own folded on either side of his hips, arms up so he can press his palms on his cheeks, wrapping all the way to the back of his skull because they’re so big, and kiss him.

“Jesus Christ, Ja’Marr,” he hears through muddied ears. Joe, he knows his voice, always, but—everything is—muffled, dark, consumed to a single person over him 

He flutters his eyes open and gasps out trying to push air into his lungs and Ja’Marr’s face is right there in front of him—eyes piercing into his own as he purposefully bumps his nose to Tee’s and breathes into Tee’s gaping open mouth.

Fucking hell.

“Ja’Marr,” he breathes out, panic mounting—and: dick hardening in his sweatpants because Ja’Marr fucking Chase is all over his lap grinding down, arms around his shoulders, pretty face right up to his with deep brown eyes staring him down intently—hands trembling, acutely aware that his boyfriend of six fucking years is staring right at them from across the room, still stealing said boyfriend’s fries. That fucking heifer, jesus, his diet always goes out the window in the 24-hour window of post-game leftover adrenaline rush.

Ja’Marr—his best friend, the prettiest motherfucker he’s ever had the pleasure of—doesn’t even do him the honor of replying, lips stretching wide into a pleased smile and keeps bumping his nose to Tee’s over and over like it’s a little game to him. It’s ridiculously cute—the minute touches, the way Tee has to go cross-eyed to see it, the weight of him all over, the heady scent of warm wood basking him, it calms him down, lowers his heart rate, settles his breathing, makes his eyelids flutter, trying to keep himself from closing the distance and kiss the man again, seems terribly unfair to just—only have a single chance in his life to kiss Ja’Marr Chase once when he’s still inches away with his body language so open and willing. Joe, to the side, still fucking eating, not even acting offended even the slightest past the minute exasperated jesus christ, ja’marr, shoots him a weird dorky thumbs-up. The hell.

“You’re—“ Tee chokes out finally, acutely aware of every point of his palm pressed against the cotton wrapped around his best friend’s waist. Acutely aware of how his fingers are twitching, wanting, aching—to grip tighter, to drag downwards and under the hemline and then roughly up the warmth of skin, scrub at the expanse of it available and feel it shiver against the skin of his own palm. The only reason he doesn’t is because every joint, every muscle, every tendon in his body is locked up in, what, fear? Sheer desperate want? A man collapsed inches away from an oasis appearing out of nowhere  in a once barren desert, heat pouring over his body and making everything wobbly and blurry—his vision actually going a bit blurry because—

Fuck it all to hell, if he cries in Ja’Marr Chase’s face  just because he kissed him he’s killing himself and taking everyone with him.

Ja’Marr coos, pretty face closing in again and Tee automatically flutters his eyes shut just for the other man to press his lips softly against the thin skin of his left eyelid, keep dragging them along his lashes, letting his liquid tears seep into the crevice of his lips and pool around the corner of his lips, over the bridge of his nose, again to his right eye, and down to the highest point of his cheek—just to press harder and leave a wet imprint from his own tears.

God, Ja’Marr fucking Chase.

“You really gotta say something,” Tee squeezes out harshly, eyes squeezed shut tight and trying to breathe through his nose.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” is what Ja’Marr says, thumb brushing away the wet spots on his cheeks. Which. Well. Maybe Tee should’ve just told him to shut the fuck up and get off of him before he does something he’d regret, like—like kiss him again. And again. And again. Again, again, again, again, over, and over, and over, and over until he drops dead because he’d never grow tired of it, he doesn’t think.

“I see,” Tee says, not really seeing. He knows he’s ’fucking gorgeous’ but come one now, really.

Ja’Marr grins bright right up against his face, of course knowing what Tee’s not saying.

Joe leans down, nudging his boyfriend to the side, hunching over the two, tucks a palm to the side of Tee’s neck, all nine inches of it spanning across his skin like a hot brand, and kisses him too.

Tee breathes into his mouth, doesn’t even know how to kiss back, flabbergasted as he is, weighted down by his best friend on his lap, a hand on his neck that might as well feel like a noose, buzzing in his ears, a match of want being struck in him and he doesn’t know if it’s by him or if it’s actually the people he wants.

Joe hums against his mouth, lips turning down, “you’re not kissing me back,”

He’s actually fucking pouting against Tee’s mouth, Tee realizes. He doesn’t even want to let go of the kiss to speak, doesn't want to pout away from Tee’s lips. Oh god. What is Tee doing. 

Tee surges up, arms clenching around Ja’Marr’s waist, teeth tugging at Joe’s bottom lip, and kisses his quarterback right this time, feels him stretch his lips to a smile even as he licks into Tee’s mouth and sighs into the kiss. He’s relaxing his shoulders, drooping down, evening out—he was tense, he was worried, neck veins slightly popping, Tee realizes. This was important to him. Tee kissing him back—was important. To him. 

Oh.

Tee sighs into the kiss, too, relaxes and licks into the space he’s being granted access into, for the first time ever.

Ja’Marr gets handsy, apparently pleased as a peach at the grip Tee has on his waist. He presses his knees harder to the sides of Tee’s hips and grinds his hips down on his lap, palms exploring his torso all over, nails dragging across his nipples over the cotton of his shirt, face all over the skin exposed by the stretched elastic of his t-shirt’s neckline, tonguing his neck, his collarbone, biting his pulsepoint and making him gasp into Joe’s mouth.

next steps — i swell like a late summer jackfruit; my skin roughens, the pulp of my body so thick; i wait to be speared and wanted; if squeezed, i’ll leave my color on your hands (hồ xuân hương, jackfruit)

Joe pushes his back firmly and he follows through blindly. It’s his house, but Joe knows exactly where eveything is and he trusts literally anywhere this man leads him to, and, also, he’s really fucking distracted by this:

Ja’Marr bites at his chin, right by his beard, and Tee gasps—he’s a freak, what is with him, why is that so fucking hot—and he keeps tugging on the strings of Tee’s sweatpants, fingers brushing deliberately over the tent in his pants, then straight up cupping and squeezing his dick through the cotton when Joe makes them stop to turn a corner. Tee has to just shove the little shit towards the wall, press his head hard against it, and sloppily kiss his mouth to teach him some sort of lesson of some success god what is Tee trying to accomplish here Ja’Marr is so fucking—

An arm—Joe—circles his waist, pushing forcefully between the miniscule space between his belly and Ja’Marr’s and wrenches him back from the other receiver. He whines, fingers scrabbling at his best friend—”Wait! No!”—while Ja’Marr is just laughing and tilting his head back into the wall as he grins teasingly at their quarterback, “what, jealous?”

Joe reaches out and twists his left nipple through his tank top. Ja’Marr yelps and starts yelling expletives at him. Tee, leaning back into Joe’s embrace, sighs exasperatedly. Of course they’re doing this, even now.

Ja’Marr steps closer, trying to smack at Joe through Tee, and Tee puts his hands on his biceps to stop him—gets distracted, starts sliding his hands up and down the length of them because, fuck, how can he not, and then just grabs them and tugs him closer to kiss him all over again with Joe’s arm between their bodies. Man, whatever.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, pressed up all against his back, but he really can’t be all that pissed, because he’s mouthing all up Tee’s neck—what is with him and necks, jesus, 

He’s shivering, caught in the middle, Joe in front, Ja’Marr behind, hands all over him, standing up but he’s falling, stumbling but he’s being held up. There’s a boy in front of him, and there’s a boy behind him, and who is he but another boy asking to be loved and held.

He’s leaning back to Ja’Marr’s chest now, tilted to the side so he can turn his face and kiss him still, the other man’s hand spanning across his face pinning him to place as he presses his tongue into his mouth and moans into it, as loud as he always is anywhere else. Another mouth is all over his chest, tonguing at his nipples, teeth scraping over the dark of his tattoos, panting all over him like a dog, god.

He doesn’t wear boxers at home, and the two know that precisely, Joe stroking his cock through the cotton of sweatpants like it isn’t even there, the grey fabric getting soaked through. He lowers his mouth over it, eyes looking straight up at Tee and asks if he could. Tee nods frantically, not even knowing what the fuck he wants but it’s Joe Burrow, he could do whatever he wants to Tee and Tee would lay in his arms like a supplicant and rip his chest open all pretty and bloody and let Joe Burrow dip his chin in and lap it all up.

He whimpers into Ja’Marr’s mouth, fluttering open his eyes, eyelashes clumpy with tears, sweat, he doesn’t know, and Ja’Marr coos, brushing kisses over his eyes as he drags his palms all over Tee’s belly, scraping nails over his pubes and pressing down in time with Joe going down on him like he knows the exact rhythm of Joe’s every move and plan, even here, even now, even over the sweat and smell of sex of Tee’s body—especially, Tee thinks, over his body.

that’s one — makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips on my neck, and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars (richard siken, crush)

Ja’Marr breathes into his ear, biting at the helix and scraping his teeth over it like a dog. Tee whimpers, turning his head to catch his mouth in his and clack their teeth together, a shock of pain grounding him to earth so he wouldn’t float up to the heavens too high. Ja’Marr huffs out a laugh against his lips, “Knock it off, dickhead, I know what you’re doing.”

Tee scowls at him, hands tightening on Joe’s hair instead of reaching out to twist and pinch on his skin, like punishing one of them is the same as punishing the other, really, an extension of a singular subject. Joe groans around his cock, extremely pleased, of fucking course he is, and Tee keeps tugging at his roots in exasperation. Fucking masochistic little shit.

Ja’Marr snickers, dragging his tongue all over his neck, “See, natural Joe Burrow knower. Made just for him—to be his receiver, just like me.”

Ja’Marr, honestly, why the fuck is he like this—

Joe and Tee both groan in unison, Tee coming off it in a whine because, fuck, Joe’s mouth is still all up around his dick, the vibrations traveling up straight to his brain and fucking him up beyond repair.

Joe pulls off with an actual wet pop! and twists a hand harshly around his cock—which feels really fucking good, the fuck—like an apology that he isn’t sucking Tee’s dick continuously since he got the chance to, and pushes his torso up to prop his face by Tee’s head, cheeks pressed up against his, chin digging into his shoulder, and he can feel him kiss Ja’Marr rough and wet, with tongue and spit and biting at his lips.

Fucking helllll, they’re trying to kill him.

The man still twisting his hand around his cock like he’s getting paid to presses his cheek harder against Tee’s, and he’s jawing at Ja’Marr, Tee realizes with a breathless laugh—”Would you quit saying shit like that so shamelessly midsex it ruins the fucking vibe.” “What fucking vibe? If anything I’m adding to it, bitch, get back to sucking his dick, the fuck.”—and Joe slinks back down right after like he didn’t just stop mid-blowjob to argue with Ja’Marr over the receiver’s uncensored prattling.

Tee whimpers, Joe’s mouth enveloping his cock again like it’s made for it, all heat and tightness and perfect 

how do you write people getting their dick sucked. exactly. no really.

ja'marr lets him breathe but he's instantly kissing down his neck and biting his collarbones and pushing him down and dragging a tongue over his chest tattoos he's /relentless/ and when he looks to where joe is its to him grinning down at him with a hand guiding ja'marr /down/ 'that's one. you got me three right?'

“That’s one,” Joe says, his little impish smile Tee has recorded into his brain countless of times before shining down at him, lips dark red, chin and mouth all wet with Tee’s spunk, “You gave me three.”

“Three what,” Tee asks, stupidly, ears still ringing from the force of his orgasm. He’s still so focused on the bright wet glint of liquid decorating Joe’s lower face, his come, staining his skin. Joe isn’t wiping it away, letting it dry on his skin, flaking and caking and clumping against the corner of his lips. Tee wants to lick it away, drag it into his mouth with his tongue, switch it up and leave bite marks all around his pretty lips. All the red in the cold, now red from his teeth. Would Joe let him. Would Ja’Marr let him. Would he let himself mark that pale skin up, leave parts of himself all over his quarterback in ways he’s never had the guts to even finish the thought of before tonight?

Joe leans closer, mouth over him, damn the fact that Tee’s own come is all over his mouth now. Three, Joe murmurs as he kisses him filthily, sliding his tongue through the gap of his teeth, over his papillae, staining his breath with something of his own. Tee wants a shot of Joe’s own come down his throat, drenching the lining of his esophagus. The thought makes his moan, makes him choke into Joe’s throat, and the older man swallows him whole. 

Fuck, three—do they—are they trying to get him to come three times, the same amount of times he caught Joe’s pass for a touchdown? Christ. He’s getting lightheaded.

He laughs incredulously, flicking his eyes down to Ja’Marr mouthing incessantly at his navel, teeth scraping along the black lines of his tattoos, exactly like he said he wanted too. Makes Tee woozy with want, how Ja’Marr gets needy and desperate for it, thirsting over Tee’s body. How many times has he stared at him naked? Tattoos bared and thought to put his mouth on him? Drag a finger down the lines of stars on his stomach? He has never once caught Ja’Marr’s eyes on them—how sneaky had the other man been?

Joe’s hand is right on the younger man’s head like a brand, like he can’t bear to let go. on his head guiding him

, then back to the blond still staring him down. His smile is just as mischievous as it always is. Are they going to take turns, now? That’s the hottest shit he’s ever thought of, probably.

“What,” he can’t help but say, scoffing and teasing Ja’Marr, reaching a hand to tug on his ear and scratch at his cheek because he’s so fucking fond of this man he can’t keep it in, really, “you looking to suck me off too?”

Ja’Marr tugs on his dick, his sensitive dick—bitch—and Tee hisses at him, stopping his loving scritches to outright pinch at his ear because never the fuck he minds, this man is such a fucking brat, he can’t put this guard down at all.

The younger man jerks his head away, laughing. He grins up at Tee, teeth bright and eyes even brighter. “Nah, I don’t like shit down my throat. Wanna fuck me instead?”

Tee chokes on his spit. He blacks out, he thinks, by the question alone. By the idea alone. By the thought alone. His brain tries conjuring images and then it just short circuits. Where is he. Who is he. Why is he.

His head gets cradled, pulled to the side by a hand and he’s being kissed by a smiling mouth, pulled back down to earth slowly and surely until he’s kissing back voluntarily instead of on autopilot. Joe, hand pressed to his cheek and eyes wide open even as he’s stealing Tee’s breath away by kissing him sweetly and thoroughly. What a freak. Who kisses with their eyes wide open. Joe Fucking Burrow, that’s who. His quarterback who threw him three touchdowns and tried biting his neck on national television. Posted on every NFL official social media accounts and sent to him by his high school friends with the words bruh u fucking ur qb??? Which he apparently is, now. 

“He asked you a question,” Joe murmurs against his lips. Right. Sure.

Tee looks down to his lap and, damn, what a fucking image. Ja’Marr Chase, laying belly down on his bed with his torso half over Tee’s thighs, a hand curled loosely around his sensitive dick, the other holding his hand—when did that happen, Tee is squeezing it tight unconsciously and now he can’t let go even if he tried—cheek pressed to his left thigh looking up at him with his pupils blown wide open waiting patiently for Tee to look at him.

Right.

“You get to choose,” Ja’Marr says when he notices he’s got Tee’s attention. He tugs at Tee’s soft cock again—

“It’s not a toy,” Tee yelps, his unoccupied hand automatically curling around the other receiver’s hand around his dick.

Ja’Marr just grins wider up at him, unsticking his cheek from his thigh to press a kiss on the hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You get to choose,” he says again, “Fuck my ass or my thighs?”

Tee lets out a sound only audible to dogs and dolphins and aliens 900 billion light years away, probably. Ja’Marr smiles up at him, looking so shily pleased that he can reduce Tee to such a state by just asking a simple question. He has no fucking business looking so sweetly enamored up at Tee after asking if he would rather fuck him in the ass or his thighs.

He’s jostled around again, Joe tugging at his hips to the side so Ja’Marr can haul his ass up to sit by them. This seems to be a theme, with these two, pushy on the field and off the field and in the bedroom—he can’t even say he’s never even thought of it,  Burrow-Chase dynamic duo, in whatever form, whatever shape, whatever way he can have them. In his dreams only, he thought, but. But.

Ja’Marr is spreading open the hand he’s kept on holding since god knows when—like an emotional support hand holding he’s got to keep a hold on to get through sex and that thought genuinely fucks Tee up in ways he’s never even thought of—and he drops a whole packet of lube he procured out of fucking nowhere.

Tee stares blankly down at it. Holy shit.

“Bro, you’re taking too long,” Ja’Marr says. Tee flicks his eyes up to look blankly at him. “I want you in me, like, yesterday.”

He’s trying to fucking kill him, Tee realizes. Calling him bro, asking to fuck him in the ass, the fuck is wrong with him.

“You gonna finger me open or I gotta do it myself?”

NggGgRrrHff.

Tee doesn’t even know what came out of his mouth, surging his torso forward and bringing his hand up to tug at Ja’Marr’s skull, palm all over the back of his head so he can tug him closer to his face and lick his mouth open and just shut him the fuck up. 

Ja’Marr whimpers, the cocky slope of his shoulders slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut, hauling closer near desperately to settle over Tee’s lap and press his palms over his shoulders for support—kissing Tee right back, breathing hot haaas over Tee’s mouth as he tries gasping for breath.

Tee tugs on his lips with his teeth, presses wet kisses to the side of his cheeks, drags his own lips over his skin back to the tender spot of his jaw, bites over it, pecks a little kiss in apology, then presses his cheek over Ja’Marr’s hard so he can tug roughly on his earlobe with his teeth—thinks he can devour the other man whole, really, from the sheer hunger in his gut built up from day one of over-familiarly dapping him up and hauling him in for a hug under the then-flickering lights of Paul Brown Stadium in 2021.

The lube’s gone from his fingers. He realizes this because someone is tugging Ja’Marr’s hips up so he’s kneeling over him, then pressing a finger in without so much as an ’excuse me’. 

Christ, Joe is so fucking.

Tee can't even find the words, really, to describe his quarterback. 

Ja’Marr yelps, gasps, clutches tighter at Tee’s shoulder, eyelashes fluttering close as he tries to keep kneeling but Joe is apparently ruthless when he's opening someone up because the younger man just collapses all over Tee, Tee letting his weight down him as drags both hands over the other man’s back to soothe him.

“Want—” Ja’Marr chokes out against the skin of Tee’s neck, “—want you.”

Joe huffs out a laugh as he mercilessly twists two fingers inside his receiver’s ass. Tee feels dizzy looking at the 

“Oh I see,” Joe says, dangerously amused, “I see how it is, can't even settle for me no more, huh, when you got Tee Higgins at your beck and call?”

His fingers slip out, shining under the dim lighting of Tee’s night settings, and then he slaps a hand over Ja’Marr’s ass like every part of him is for him to toy over. Tee is still so fucking woozy from the image of it all, his hand rubbing at Ja’Marr’s back sliding lower to smooth over the sting from Joe’s palm.

(god, what an ass. tee can't help himself, grabs a handful of it and tugs it to the side to show his hole, shining wetly from joe’s fingers, a whole invitation for him. tee wants to put his whole mouth on it. lick him open nice and easy. press a finger in and watch as his entire body tremble and shake.)

Joe grins at him, wide and a bit mean, cocky and soooo full of himself, precisely like every other time he makes an insane throw, a run further than his usual short stops, a little overtime nail-biter win like just hours ago: his ice-in-my-veins shot that Tee paused and contemplated jerking off to hours before this.

He reaches over Ja’Marr's body between them, kisses Tee like he’s giving him his approval, then turns and presses the sweetest kiss to Ja’Marr’s nose, damn the fact that the other man is glaring and outright pouting at him.

“Bro,” he croaks out, talking to Tee but trying to shoot daggers at Joe with his eyes, “let me up, let me take this bitch down for one second then we can go right back.”

Joe giggles bright like an actual child, keeps pressing kisses over whatever parts of Ja’Marr’s face he could reach until the younger man’s lips stretch out wobbly for a smile that he can't help, still whining at Joe to shut the fuck up, would he, just for one day. 

Tee grins wide in spite of himself too, hands still all over his best friend’s ass and lips still tingling from a kiss from his quarterback.

He drags his arm up so he can cradle Ja’Marr, fingers reaching over to grip at his jaw and twist it until he's looking right at him and putting all that focus on Tee, murmurs low and raspy: “you said you want me?”, and shamelessly delights in the way the other man’s pupils dilate wide and gorgeous.

“Fuck you,” Ja’Marr says, jaw working against Tee’s grip, “Get your fucking fingers in me before i force myself on your dick, damn it.”

that’s two — from the base of her neck, to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of me (adonis, transformations of the lover)

Ja’Marr nestles himself on his mound of pillows—Tee’s pillows. The pillows Tee sleeps with. His favorite pillows. The dark maroon sheets caressing his bare skin as he lounges on his self made throne, as he spreads open his legs, slipping one more pillow under his hips so he can present his ass to Joe and Tee and look expectantly at them. Tee is still so fucking lightheaded. How did he go from scoring three touchdowns to scoring a whole other touchdown? Ja’Marr—his best friend—who ducked his head to grin slilly up at him not four hours ago, telling him the next round of WR room steak dinner was on him. 

Joe pours lube all over Tee’s fingers, 

Joe’s plastering himself all over his back, but he isn’t pushing him at all. He’s just—there. Pressed up all over him, moving with him, breathing over the skin of his neck, nosing behind his ear. He’s letting Tee control how he wants to fuck his man, Tee realizes with a jolt, trusting him with Ja’Marr. 

joe plastered all over tee's back, cock nestled against his ass but he's not pushing tee around he's just following his movements, letting tee control how he wants to enter ja'marr and that also fucks tee up because joes trusting him with ja'marr!! with how he treats ja'marr at his most vulnerable!!!! telling him he can go harder, ja'marr likes whatever, can take whatever, joe leaing a hand in his belly and pushing to add in extra sensation of pleasure when tee pushes /in/ for the first time and he just collapses all over ja'marr and they're all groaning hoarsely in unison because fuck tees in ja'marr and he just pushed his ass back all over joes dick

Joe snickers at the other receiver. Tee feels him lift up an arm, nails scratching at his scalp. He’s murmuring softly at him, but Tee doesn’t think Ja’Marr is really computing any of it. 

“Aren’t you being so agreeable tonight? Some Tee Higgins magic keeping you all pliant and malleable?”

Ja’Marr whimpers, lifting his chin and biting at Joe’s fingers. Joe huffs, chest vibrating against Tee’s back, and every square inch of Tee’s body is filled with warmth.

calls him baby

ja’marr gets fucked up when tee calls him baby because joe calls him baby btw so

that’s three — to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you (billy-ray belcourt, a history of my brief body)

He’s leaning all over Ja’Marr now, gazing down the man who’s grinning woozily up at him 

Joe, nosing the back of his neck and palming his ass cheeks asking him if he likes to be fucked. Ja’Marr, hands still shaky coming up to drag over his sides and settle over his ribs like a key settling into a lock and clicking into place. Tee himself, chest expanding with breath and skin bristling with want from so deep within him it feels like it’s bursting out and changing the hue of his skin to red, to blue, to orange and black, purple and green, magenta and cyan, a kaleidoscope of colors like the big bang theory—he’s a new universe stretching and expanding and these two are his first and only planets, never to be let go.

He feels stripped bare in front of these two—is his every thought and want obvious in his face and every motion now? Do they see, now, how much he wants them? How much he—loves them? Is it obvious, now, that when he speaks to them he’s speaking like there’s a lodge of do you think of me when you’re alone without me wanting to burst out from his throat? That he aches alone in the center of a crowd when he doesn’t have them beside him? When he has them beside him, even, because they’re not really his to have? Does it show? Do they know? Do they care to know? Does he care to show them?

Tee breathes out loudly, ragged and deep. Joe shushes him, blows air against the curve of his C7. Ja’Marr surges up, presses kisses against his wet cheeks and babbles unknown words to him like he’s speaking through his shitty mic on stream. Tee would miss it, if their randomly scheduled streams were ever to peter off. Tee would miss them, if they were ever to fade away from him.

“Baby,” Ja’Marr coos, “sweetheart, my sweet, my love, my heart, my gorgeous,”

Tee shudders away against his lips and feels the man behind him curve a smile against the skin stretched over his cervical spine.

“My baby,” Joe joins in, voice jokingly grave, “my gorgeous, my sweet—”

“—quit copying me,” Ja’Marr whines, cutting him off, but he’s grinning against Tee’s lips, so he knows he’s just doing so to be annoying—just to put a smile on Tee’s face and it’s working, Tee huffing wetly against the stretch of his grin.

“—my number five,” Joe continues on without pausing, barely a fletch in his voice, “my silly rabbit, best hands in the league, insane body control, prettiest smile in the whole fucking world, favorite receiver to throw to—”

“Hey now,” Ja’Marr whines in earnest now, hands reaching around Tee’s body to stab around blindly at their quarterback. Tee breaks down in laughter for real this time, collapsing fully on the man in the bottom of the pile, letting Ja’Marr find a whole other thing to whine about—’teeeeee you’re crushing me you ass, joe don’t you fucking try it!’—and there was ice creeping from every distal edge of his limbs to the core of him, but there’s nothing but warmth now, chasing it away, clouding his head, keeping him sane. 

“But really now,” Joe interrupts, tugging his hips up impatiently, “I really wanna fuck you, do you wanna?”

Right. Jesus. Joe fucking Burrow, everyone.

Ja’Marr hums, peppering his cheek with kisses again, ever so free with his sweet affections. “Ten out of ten,” he says, “would recommend.”

Tee stares sideways at him, still settled with his weight fully on him. “That a full Yelp review for a Joe Burrow fuck?”

Ja’Marr sighs dreamily, scratching at Tee’s sides, “Do you really want one?”

Jesus.

Tee wiggles around, dragging his body against Ja’Marr’s and the man beneath him giggles when he brushes his fingers deliberately against his sides. He twists until he’s peering at Joe, squinting at him and pretending that the man didn’t just suck his dick so good Tee cried and stared at him like a second coming of Christ. Blasphemous, sacrilegious, irreverent, and yet, he has yet to be struck down and smitten—or perhaps he already has, and this is all a byproduct of his imaginary ruin.

“Think you can make it good?” He asks imperiously, already knowing in his bones this man would be as good at fucking as he is at literally anything else, as well evidenced by his previous attempt at giving Tee what was possibly the best blowjob of his life just, what, 40 minutes prior?

Joe scoffs, ducking his head down and pecking at his lips. “I just sucked your dick to incoherency, the fuck do you mean ‘can i make it good’? I got a pretty mouth and a pretty dick, think for yourself.”

Tee chokes in sheer disbelief—heart stuttering a bit at the brief press of lips but what-the-fuck-ever—the ego on this man, jesus. He flicks his eyes to the pink of his lips—shining, distracting, real fucking pretty—then, well, down past the puffy nipples and golden dusting of chest hair and layer of fat over abs to the nice curve of a cock—thick and long, veiny, a blushy pink head, a weirdly sexy little jolt like it’s show-ponying, like it knows he’s watching it and wants to show it likes it—that Joe likes Tee watching him. Yeah, real fucking pretty dick, too, damn it, fuck Joe Burrow.

Tee whines, turning back around to bury his face—knowing damn well it’s burning red even through the dark of his skin—in the curve of Ja’Marr’s neck and tries not to let the dual laughter of the boys who’ve quite literally captured his heart stutter it too much. Failed, but whatever, he’s got way too much practice over the years regulating his heartbeat to normalcy around these two.

Joe goes to scrape his teeth along the top his spine again and Tee shivers, feeling like prey caught in the maw of a tiger, which really won’t do—he’s a fucking bengal too, damn it. He bucks his hips back firmly, makes sure to rub the curve of his ass against the hard of his quarterback’s dick and hides his satisfied smile against his fellow receiver’s jaw when Joe gasps loud and startled, hand coming to grip at his hip hard, probably leaving bruises for him to brush his fingers wonderingly over later on.

Ja’Marr snickers approvingly, pressing his jaw back firmly against Tee’s mouth, “Yeah, tell him who’s boss, make him work for it.”

Tee presses a kiss right to the tender skin below his jawbone, leaves it there for a beat, two, three, feels like maybe he can make out the faint fluttering of his heartbeat against his lips, then lets up to say drily, “Pretty sure all your raving reviews does wonders for his ego. Don’t act like you’re not to blame here, Mr. Joe Burrow’s Numero Uno.”

Ja’Marr just shrugs unapologetically the best he could, pressed down as he is with Tee’s full weight all over him to the bed, never really one to be shy about his near piety to one Joe Burrow when it’s just them three. He’s been circling indistinct little patterns on the skin of Tee’s hips the whole time, but he stops for a minute to reach a hand up and tap a little rhythm teasingly over Joe’s thigh, now kneeling to the side, the only one still hard and with zero orgasms to his name that night, pouting but not admitting it.

Tee very obviously wouldn’t say no to having Joe’s dick inside him but playing hard-to-get just so Joe Burrow would pout and whine about not getting to fuck him is really—really fucking cute, actually, wow. Wow, god, Tee is so gone for him, he should really take a step back and regulate his entire life and emotional capacity, wow. Wow.

and in the end — over a distance of four hundred miles, her yearning and his yearning are intertwined, as though there were no spatial or temporal interval between them (jenny erpenbeck, kairos)

After it’s all done and not said, then, Tee’s left naked in the middle of the hallway leading to his bathroom, unable to take the steps back to his own room where his best friends are, clutching at his towel after having just pissed, and having orgasmed three fucking times by the combined willpower of his two closest teammates, all because he scored three touchdowns for a game—that might possibly be his last home game with them—that had playoff stakes. Fuck.

Heavy footsteps come up to him and he flicks his eyes up to see Joe staring him down—naked, gorgeous, sweat-slicked, his quarterback, his friend. Who had just fucked the bejeesus out of him.

Tee drags a hand down his face harshly. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

The lilt of Ja’Marr’s voice when he says my sweet, when he’s referring to Tee as my heart, when he’s saying Tee as my gorgeous. When Joe says gravely, jokingly, possessively, my number five, he’s saying that about Tee. 

Joe catches his hands—both of them—towel slipping away, and holds them and tugs at them until Tee is stumbling into him, lifting his chin up awkwardly so he won’t slam it into Joe’s nose but Joe doesn’t even do him the honor of avoiding it. He just tucks it into the curve of his Adam’s apple and breathes in deep like a weirdo. How many times has Tee just caught him with his nose buried in Ja’Marr’s neck as he hugs the receiver—how many times has he caught the man nudge his nose to the curve of Tee’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, after a game when he comes to him for a hug. Oh.

“Joe,” Tee breathes out, trembles, wonders how he’s supposed to word this out, how he’s supposed to say how he feels, how he’s supposed to say t

Ja’Marr, breathing in his air and telling him he doesn’t want him to leave. 

Tee sees Joe grin down his phone at ass o’clock in the morning and knows he’s reading i love you in between the letters of Ja’Marr’s why the fuck is all of cincy awake at 7 in the morning.

Ja’Marr says hey, all sleepy with the vowel dragging and it sounds like come here, you two. Tee goes, Joe right behind him a half step away.

a little more down the line — the only heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you (hozier, take me to church)

you do like all those pet names

he calls me all that all the time joe says nosing behind tees ear

i like calling you that too tee says, amused. letting his neck bend even more, what even are the words uncomfortable stretch when joe burrow has his nose buried in the curve of it. 

you called me baby, ja’marr says then, shy and a little quiet, like he’s saying something he keeps close to him and isn’t sure how he should breach it out of him. 

i call him that, joe says next, grin audible even if its not visible from where he’s pressed up behind tee

oh. tee called him baby, told him to come for him, and ja’marr gasped into his mouth and bursted all over tee’s belly, drenching him in white, whimpering as he stared into tee’s eyes with his own watering but still kept it open, didn't even close it because he didn’t want to. couldn't, maybe, tee thinks again.

oh, tee says out loud for real then, bumping his nose forward to ja’marr like he's learning that ja’marr likes to do, okay then, baby, come here, baby, let me see you, baby.

ja’marr laughs, bumps his nose right back. don't wear it thin. 

never, tee swears.

my baby, my baby, joe murmurs finally into the back of tee’s neck, pressing his fingers into the insides of ja’marr’s elbows.

.

.

.

i want more thumps. i want more time. i want to waste my love on everything. give me a heart for ohio. —(joy sullivan, instructions for traveling west, an octopus has three whole hearts)

more time together for these three, please.

WHICH APPARENTLY HEY THEY DID IT 😭😭👍👍👍👍 GOOD FOR THEM!!! trey next so help me!! when treys news comes out (🙏) maybe ill post that treymarr unfinished oblivious courting fic idk we'll see that ones more of a mess than this and also wayyy shorter lmao but anyways:::: thank u for reading through this all if u made it to this end note 😇🫶 goodbye see u again whenever i have it in me to show up again akdhsjdjdj love yall bengals super bowl 2k26 Believe! or whatever it is they all say in that 2021 run 💖

thank you for every one of you who've come into my inbox to ask how i am by the way!!!! adore and miss you all very much <33

[slutforpringles]

Peter Bayer saying Daniel has "no defined KPIs, no set performance indicators" in light of the performance clause rumours is verrrrrrrry interesting 👀

[tonymarias]

jeff … can you drop the restraining order please jeff think of the children (me)

[izumkay]

THE CONTRACT CLAUSE- |m.list|

—SATORU GOJO

ღPairing- SatoruGojo × Fem!Reader

ღSummary- Thanks to your friend, Haibara, you land a job at the country’s top company—but CEO Satoru Gojo? He’s not impressed. Between causing him trouble and his infuriating charm, you quickly become his favorite target. But when things take an unexpected turn, Gojo finds himself in a position he never thought he’d be—desperate, frustrated, and drawn to you in ways he can’t ignore. The office just got a lot more dangerous—and a lot more heated.

Gernes/tags- Modern AU, love triangle, Enemies to lovers, contract marriage, office romance, Sunshine×Grumpy, fluff, tension, forced proximity, Satoru is desperate for you, why not?

Warnings!- 18+ only, sexual content, toxicity, angst, hate sex, mentions of death, blood, hurt/comfort, obsession, possessiveness, SA attempts.

Status- ongoing.

Wc- 6.1k

CHAPTERS~

Chapter 1 | Cornered and Conquered

Chapter 2| Tensions?

[once-and-future-loser]

NOOOOOO. Why does he squat like that!?!?! The wimpy towel! The tiny amount of weight. Safety bars, what's the point when you obviously have someone taking a picture who can spot you. NOOOO.

*Pulls up F1.com to find a new favorite driver since mine apparently hasn't been good at lifting weights since he stopped CrossFit at Torro Rosso*

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

sorry I just had the realization that Rex lapis would have taken the gnosis with him as he sank into the sea, and I’m just imagining the fatui going “ah shit” as they fish around for it lol

thinking further on it, the qixing probably won’t let them, or anyone, into the area, gotta have Childe pull some shit

honestly though that might accidentally make childe the only harbinger fit for the job. like imagine going from literally the scapegoat fool to 'oh yeah i got the gnosis' 'you what' 'yeah you know. it sank. into the water. which i can control. was pretty easy to find and snatch during the investigations lmao'

signora and the tsaritsa would share the most awkward 'now what' side eye ever because they can't just tell him 'you werent actually supposed to do that' to his face hahah

[d-lanx]

[xiangqiankua]

You know you live in a country with earthquakes when the Evacuation Experience Center is a fun place to take the family.

逃生 táoshēng / flee for one's life

[macaiv]

Has anyone listened to this french podcast Esteban was on a number of months ago? I don't speak French so I had to get by using the auto-translate (while slowing down the video a bit) and the google translate app transcribe function. I think the translation was fairly understandable. Anyway, here are some parts I found interesting:

Esteban mentioned that included in his contract was that the team (Alpine) must not have a number 1 driver and that he doesn't want one side to be favoured over the other. He wants to have the same "weapons" to fight with his teammate.

His dad was a French Junior Cycling Champion when he was younger but was unable to progress further due to the lack of resources and lack of contacts. So his dad made a promise with himself that if he will have a child in a similar situation, he will do the maximum in order for their dream to happen. That's why he and his mum were so willing to sacrifice everything for him.

They were able to get Nico Rosberg to ask a question to Esteban. He, in true form, asked about teammate rivalry 😆 Esteban mentioned that Nico gave him a lot of support and advice when he arrived in Formula 1 in 2016.

His Dad also asked a question, "What was your best memory from the karting years?". "I remember we were parked on this mountain at the Monaco Karting Grand Prix in 2010. I will always remember waking up in the caravan every morning, opening the door and seeing the sea right in front." He would see other drivers going to the hotel while they stayed behind since they lived in a caravan. The hotel was more comfortable but because they slept on/near the track, it was to their advantage that they were able to work longer in the evenings making them more prepared for the race.

Besides these everything else discussed were already mentioned in his other interviews.

[madegeeky]

Tiny Woman, Big Gorilla (an Overwatch sitcom pitch)

Another entry for Doc's shamash contest. The prompt was: You get all the rights to adapt a piece of media that has never received a television show (so, no Sailor Moon, for example, but movies are allowed) INTO a television show. Tell me about your vision! How many seasons? Most importantly to noncompliant bitches who are me: What are you tweaking from the source?

So, I want to say Overwatch based on your fics but that feels too easy so let's take this in a completely weird opposite direction: a sitcom. I'm gonna call it… Tiny Woman, Big Gorilla.

Obviously, the two main characters are Winston and Lena. (Other OW characters can also be there.) They're roommates, of course. And it's all about their lives in London and the friends and enemies they make along away. Except there's no superhero stuff so this is just, like, Lena slept with Amélie who works at her favorite pastry shop (French, of course) and now Lena can't get her absolute favorite desert without dealing with their absolute nightmare of a breakup and her entire world is ending. (And, yes, Amélie still gives off assassin vibes which is a very strange vibe to get from the person who's helping you pick out which flavor of macaron to get.)

Every time people start talking too loudly about Lena being not-a-lesbian a particularly gay episode will come out. (Plus side to sitcoms? Everything resets so I can literally hold these episodes in reserve.)

People are constantly clamoring about whether or not Winston will get a relationship but the writers and I are terrified to go anywhere near that can of worms. However, in fairness to Winston who does deserve all the love in the world, we do flip a coin: heads, Winston is in a relationship; tails, he's not (yet). So far, it's always come up tails but we all know this is only delaying the inevitable; some day it will come up heads and the reckoning will be upon us.

Winston's existence is never explained. There are no other gorillas like him, this is very obvious without straight up being said, but it's never explained why or how it happened. He's just there, being a gorilla who is also a person. It drives fans batty and theories abound but whenever we're asked we just smile mysteriously (or smirk obnoxiously dependent on how annoyed we are by the asker).

It goes on for *checks how many seasons Supernatural was around* 16 seasons. (Listen, the idea of there being more Supernatural in the world than Tiny Woman, Big Gorilla is awful and I will not stand for it.) I end up full on Xena-ing it to make it last for 16 seasons. There are flashback episodes to Winston and Lena in their past lives (yes, plural). There are episodes about them being reincarnated into the future. There's even one about them going to an alternate universe where they're heroes who fight bad guys. There's a Lena doppelganger. There are multiple Lena doppelgangers. There's a Winston doppelganger. (You'd think a Winston doppelganger would explain some things. It doesn't.) There are no rules I will not break and no story too stupid, as long as I can make 16 seasons happen.

It's ends, as most sitcoms do, stupidly sappy. Lena and Emily have, of course, had multiple kids by the point (16 seasons, people!) and we do the flash forward to a huge friendiversy party for Lena and Winston (because, yes, they throw one because of course they would and also because that's 16 episodes already partially written). Grandkids are there and friends and jokes referencing precious episodes are bantered about. Everything is happy and joyous as they pose for a group shot. The shutter blinks and it zooms out to show the picture being slipped into a thick file labeled Winston that is obviously some sort of dossier and BAM straight to black.

Suck on that, fans.