#satoru gojo male reader

[sanjisboyfie]

∞ SNSTV : first year, first mission

this is the first chapter of my series "sensitive" (SNSTV = sensitive). since it's a series, this first chapter is going to be pretty "boring" in terms of romance, but it still full of satosugu interactions with reader...but probably not favorable ones as you'll see soon lol. anyway ! stay tuned for the next chapters because i will have a lot of fun fleshing this out hehehe

first year satosugu x male reader

-> prev

( if u squint )

“since shoko is a very valuable sorcerer, she must refrain from participating in highly dangerous missions,” the only girl in the room smiled at the information, sneakily flipping off her male classmates. satoru was annoyed, suguru was indifferent, and [name] seemed to be the only one with half a mind to care for the woman’s safety.

“her abilities are quite special,” he compliments, making yaga hum in agreement and shoko wink at him in appreciation.

satoru pretends to barf in his mouth.

“that leaves the three of you, [last name], gojo, and geto — this mission is going to be your first one without supervision. it should show to be easy enough. you are to simply monitor and oversea a specific section of the closed down mall and exorcise any curses that are roaming. it has been closed down far too long and kids are starting to wander in there without any idea of what they’re walking into. for the safety of the people and the community, you must exterminate every curse that dwells there. you are all permitted in using any cursed tool, if you wish, but we highly encourage you learn to harness your abilities as soon as possible.”

satoru pretended to barf in his mouth again. doing things for “normal” civilians was never his most ideal way of spending his time. but unless he wanted to hear a nagging from yaga, he had to suck it up. formal missions were hard to dodge, anyway. meanwhile, suguru hummed in understanding, seeing why this would need an urgent team.

and [name] was just excited to finally get his hands on his cursed tool again.

the three were escorted to the abandoned mall via their driver, who told them to call him if anything were to happen and they needed immediate assistance.

“i don’t get why crybaby over here had to come,” satoru huffs, looking at the mall with disinterest. it’s unclear whether or not he’s talking to himself or his other classmate. either way, it got a reaction from [name] who was within earshot.

“why don’t you just go fuck off gojo,” [name] snarled, holding onto the scythe in his hands with a tight grip. he expertly twirled it around, using the weight of it and basic understanding of gravity, to make it so that the sharp blade was pointed right at gojo’s neck.

hiding his surprise at the sudden action, gojo just smirked and glared at [name].

“you’re just scared because you know i’m right. the moment things go to shit, you’re gonna go running with your tail in between your legs like a poor puppy. and i’ll be there to laugh,” gojo said with a taunting cackle, the ugly sound rising from his throat making both suguru and [name] cringe.

“i’ll slice your throat open, i mean it.”

“love to see you try, piece of shit!”

“alright! enough fighting, the both of you! seriously? are we on a mission to exorcise some curses or is it my personal responsibility to babysit the two of you?” suguru sighed, rubbing his forehead in stress, “can we all just do this and go home? i think it’s obvious neither of you want to be here any longer,”

satoru rolled his eyes at suguru’s “nice guy” perona, internally calling bullshit on his entire personality. god, satoru hated those type of guys the most. the ones who think they’re superior just because they’re more mature. it pissed him off that suguru had an ability so strong too...talk about waste of potential!

well, too bad for both [name] and suguru because the one who was most superior was obviously him! he was gojo satoru, after all.

“whatever, weaklings. why don’t you sit back and just let me take care of this? there’s no need for your abilities when i could exterminate every curse in the vacinity,” satoru was confident when speaking his words, but if you were to tell him to actually do that…he might not have been able to.

hey! he was a first year and just recently allowed to go completely “ham” on using his powerful abilities. he didn’t have the bestest grasp on control or output, but he did know that his technique easily overpowered the other twos’.

“hm, to make it interesting, why don’t we have a competition?”

the competitive side of [name] and satoru shone bright after suguru said that. taking their perked up heads and attentive ears as a sign to continue on, he proposed, “whoever exorcises the most curses won’t have to do chores around the dorm for a whole week and all that responsibility will fall onto the losers.”

“a whole month,” [name] bargained, earning a shrug of approval from suguru. and satoru laughed that obnoxious laugh of his again, shouting a “bring it on” before putting on his sunglasses.

“you two are going down!”

“what does cockiness get you besides hateful stares, gojo?”

“geto-san’s right, you gojo bitch! bite your tongue and choke on your own blood, fool!!”

on the count of 3, the three students were setting off into separate directions of the mall and finding as many curses as possible to exterminate. for how vast the entire property was, this could take as long as a couple of hours…if the three students were normal jujutsu sorcerers.

but when you put a narcissist, someone with a superiority complex, and a hot-headed individual in a high stakes competition, you get the mall that was full of curses being free of said curses in under two hours (an hour and ten minutes, to be exact. to cover a 800,000 square feet land full of extremely lower grade curses).

at the beginning of the competition, [name] would lure out the curses by simply baiting them with his “naivety” of them being there. they’d pounce to attack, happy to find an unsuspecting prey, before [name] would slash them across their forms and kill them with his cursed tool. he imagines by the end of the hour, he had already taken care of over a couple dozen very low grade curses.

just as he was about to maneuver around and slice another one up, something had already took care of the problem.

“gonna need to try harder than that, crybaby,” satoru taunts, smirking from a floor above as he easily blew up the curse that was about to attack [name]. the man grits his teeth in annoyance while the white haired individual just shrugs in pride, “you can’t even look out for yourself, need me to save you, huh?”

“fuck off!” [name] sent a strong gust of wind satoru’s way via swinging his scythe towards satoru, creating almost a slash of air. his tormentor only laughed at the attempt in attacking him, flipping out of the way and then walking past [name] with a smug grin.

as he disappeared from [name]’s sight, he felt himself get more and more annoyed and angry at his predicament. of course, he had to be stuck in an abandoned place with his bully and not be able to leave until the ending of their mission. [name] huffed, feeling an unfair amount of tears reach his eyes.

at least satoru wouldn’t be around to see him cry like a pathetic loser, he thought to himself. he shook his head a couple of times, forcing the tears down with a clearing of his throat and rough wipe of his face. it was a pain to live such an emotionally unstable life — as if he had any control over things like that.

“so you really are a crybaby?” suguru’s voice broke his silent sobs, making him whip his head up and glare at the man approaching him. seeing his obvious apprehension to him being there, suguru put his hands up in surrender to show he meant no harm, “there’s no reason for you to be crying, why are you crying?”

“obviously i know i have no reason to cry, idiot, how annoying do you think it is for me to have to do it when i have no reason to?!”

suguru blinked, confusion panted on his face, “you have to cry?” putting emphasis on ‘have’ it was obvious suguru didn’t see a point in such a thing, especially right now.

“you wouldn’t get it, so just leave me alone,” [name] said, waving his hand and turning around to look for more curses. suguru had an odd look on his face as he watched [name] walk away, an unreasonable amount of cursed energy surrounding the previously crying man.

the ravenette truly wondered what his life story was, he was just so intriguing. a sorcerer coming from one of the strongest clans in the jujutsu world was walking away from him with his head held down, shoulders shaking, and tears dripping onto the floor.

“what’s his deal,” suguru hums to himself, flicking his wrist in the direction of a miniature curse that was coming towards him and easily eliminating it from the picture.

[name] continued expertly swinging his scythe around whenever he saw a curse coming towards him, not flinching as it died in front of him each time. it was obvious he was most comfortable with such a weapon, despite it being a couple times larger than his smaller frame. with how easily he handled it, though, it was somewhat obvious that he had been training with the weapon for a long time.

“oiii!!! i finished up on my part of the mall,” satoru shouted, his whiny voice echoing in the empty walls.

“same here!!”

[name] looked down at the pathetic curse that was shyly standing far away from him. it had an odd figure, a spherical body that was being held up by skinny blue legs that were wobbling from the abnormal amount of weight that they had to hold up. it was muttering some stuff about the fitting room and how the clothes weren’t fitting, making [name] believe it probably formed from the stuff people would feel about themselves in the fitting rooms.

he sighed, walking ahead and crouching in front of the curse. the scythe remained unmoving as it was leaning against his shoulder, weakly swinging in the air at the heavy weight of the blade hanging behind his head. he kept it secure with his arm over the handle portion, making sure that it didn’t fall over.

the curse reached its arm out to touch him, but with a simple shifting of his head into the opposite direction, [name] stopped the possible contact. instead, he just put his finger to the pudgy flesh of the curse’s body, grimacing at the feeling. and with a simple “shot” coming from his fingers, the curse began to flail in pain and agony. until it turned into nothing but ash and dust, being blown away by a passing breeze.

“hey, what was your total count?” satoru’s voice taunted from behind him, not really reading the energy in the room. [name] stood up, a completely dead look in his eyes. it almost shocked satoru enough to shut him up, but it would take more than a miserable face to ever make him close his loud mouth.

“i came up to about 60,” suguru said, “a bunch of small insignificant ones, really,”

“and i got to the eighties,” satoru grinned, roughly shoving his shoulder into suguru’s. the black haired man only rolled his eyes, “what about you? i doubt above thirty, am i right?”

in reality, [name] had killed more curses than the two combined. but he susposes that he had an advantage, wielding a cursed tool rather than using his actual technique. well, except to kill that last one. plus his high sensitivity in reading where the curses were gave him an advantage in finding the prey faster than the other two.

but instead of telling the truth and gloating, like he should have done, he just shrugged, “i didn’t keep track — i guess you win, gojo,”

that made the strong sorcerer pump his fist into the air, chanting about how [name] and suguru were going to be stuck doing his laundry for a month. he was too caught up in his celebration to notice how sunken in [name]’s face really looked.

it wasn’t just his eyes that appeared dead, but it was as if the color drained from his face, his eyes turned bloodshot, and he was weakly walking towards them.

suguru noticed, though. and it intrigued him as he peered behind [name]’s subtly limping figure, catching a pile of ashes that was blowing in the wind. he couldn’t connect the dots completely, but he did know that the two things he noticed were connected in some way.

“feeling alright? losing sucks,” suguru asked, trying to talk about more light hearted things in the face of his incredibly sullen classmate.

“yeah, it’s whatever, i guess,”

there was definitely a difference. less colorful choices of vocabulary were being used and suguru thought that was the most noticeable change in [name]’s demeanor. he wasn’t cursing satoru out for being an egotistical piece of shit with the biggest ego in the world. he was just blankly walking past the bragging man with not a care in the world.

suguru bit his lip, stopping himself from asking more questions and instead reaching into his pocket to contact their original driver to tell them that the job was done. and while suguru was theorizing all of these things to himself, it was obvious satoru didn’t even spend a second thinking about it. if anything he welcomed the new, depressed [name]. it made for perfect bullying material for him!

that sadist, suguru grimly thought in his mind as he listened to the phone ring. he informed the driver to come pick them up before turning back around to watch satoru and [name] interact with one another. with how off he was acting, it was a surprise to see satoru still adamant on tormenting [name]. wasn’t it obvious already he was not himself? couldn’t gojo just give him a break? but then again, why wasn’t [name] sticking up for himself? he wasn’t a little kid that needed suguru’s saving, but at this point, he might as well.

“c’mon, gojo, quit it already,” suguru spoke up, lightly slapping the man’s shoulder. satoru didn’t like that, though, obnoxiously stomping over to stand toe-to-toe with suguru.

“hah? c’mon, geto, you’ve got to see that this is a real pathetic scene, isn’t it? he can’t do anything in his life but constantly lose. it makes you wonder how it’s even possible for us to exist in the same world as him; the strongests and the weakest standing to be in the same jujutsu class? what a joke,”

suguru grimaced, pushing satoru backwards to create some space in between them, “that’s not even funny, what’s your issue, gojo? can’t you just shut up for a couple of seconds? would it really kill you?”

satoru pretended to barf, glaring at suguru, “oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re one of those righteous folks that sticks up for the weaker people?”

“i don’t have to explain shit to you — i don’t even know you,” suguru mumbles, not wanting to entertain him further. creating an argument would only make their moods worsen and become more bitter towards each other. in the midst of his annoyance, suguru glances towards [name] and scoffed to himself.

it was a bit pathetic of [name] to not even speak up for himself, he’ll admit that. but he wasn’t going to bully him just for that. he just wished that he had spoken up for himself in this moment, it would’ve at least been a sign to satoru that he wasn’t to be messed with. that he was strong, to some extent. but instead the man just stood there and took all the insults.

it made suguru both annoyed and angered.

why couldn’t [name] stand up for himself now? he was doing so before so easily and naturally. but now, it was as if all the energy was sucked out of him…

the ride to the jujutsu high was silent. and [name] seperated from the two the moment they stepped foot onto the school grounds. suguru remained stoic as he watched [name] walk away while satoru next to him only hummed in disinterest.

”i’m telling you, suguru, to not waste your time defending him. he’s got no place in the jujutsu world, weak sorceres like him that prove to be useless have no place standing next to us — or even shoko for that matter. she may not have fighting prowess, but her natural ability is remarkable. with [name]…there’s nothing remarkable about him. it’s as if he’s a normal human, he’s ordinary and dull. don’t waste your breath with him.”

that was all satoru said to suguru before walking off, his hands behind his head as he walked in such a lax position. suguru stood silent for a couple of moments before snapping himself out of his stupor and going to his room.

he looked at the room a couple of doors down from him, [name]’s room, and his lips were drawn into a thin, straight line. he entered his comfortable room without wasting another second.

he didn’t know that behind [name]’s door, the man had his knees brought up to his chest as he sobbed his heart out on the floor. the screen of his small tv was blaring back at him in the dark room, the screen being the only source of light. he was watching his favorite show, one that made him laugh and happy. but tears streamed down his face as he had to choke back on his sobs.

he tried forcing a smile on his face, making an unsettling expression a couple of times before he gave up.

he always hated this part.

but he had to persevere. he moved to his small music player at his bedside, grabbing the headphones that worked alongside them and falling onto his bed. he put the flimsy over-ear devices on, sighing as he looked up at the blank ceiling. soon, a compilation of his favorites songs filled his ears and he tried to be content with the feeling.

‘immerse yourself. and you’ll be okay in the morning.’

it was a mantra he repeated to himself until he felt himself fall into sleep.

he really hated his innate cursed technique.

-

sorry if u hate emotional mcs...this guy is gonna be one. but for explainable reason, trust! he's still going to be strong, too, though, so look forward to that! i can't wait to make him go #insane <3 but other than that, really fun to write since it shows the dynamic i imagined satosugu to have in their first years of jujutsu high !!! since the whole incident happens in their second year i rlly wanna focus on building the relationships in the first year and stuff, so things might be a lil slow to start, but when it starts ... it'll start, trust. tysm for being os patient w this even if it is short affa. i look forward to writing longer, more deeeeeep chapters in the future. much love <3

[kefj315]

Gojo Satoru x GN!reader.

—Angst and fluff—

One of my first time writing that sort of stuff and writing in general. Hope it’s good and you like it. There may be some grammar errors since English isn’t my first language.

If someone told you you would ever see Satoru again, you would have said it was a bad joke. But here you are, right in front of him as his grip on your wrist is tight. The expression on his face hardly recognisable. Maybe he felt too much for it to properly express with something as simple as his looks. But his eyes, his eyes were truly like glasses to his soul and core. You felt like you were drowning in his feelings rather than your own. His lips moved, in a whisper, calling your name as if to make sure it was really you.

Though, he didn’t say anything else, you both just stayed there, in the middle of the street, staring at each other.

Some years ago you both would have been together in that same street to hang out. And now that you think of it, you missed it. It was a simple statement, one you always have been aware of, but it just felt way more real right now.

If only things didn’t went so wrong. After Suguru Geto —your old friend— departure you felt burned out. And that same day you decided to quit being a jujutsu sorcerer. Satoru lost both of his best-friends because you wouldn’t reply to any of his texts or calls, and each time he tried to visit he was met with the coldness of your front door.

"Why did you left me?" He asked with a cold tone, one you weren’t used to. During the, small yet intense time you spent admiring his eyes he managed to regain his composure. The question stuck with you, why didn’t you answered him? Why didn’t you showed any sign of life?

"And don’t you dare say some shitty excuses." He continued, clearly pissed. You couldn’t blame him, you would have slapped yourself at that instant if you could.

"I- I don’t know…I’m sorry." You couldn’t help but look down, his glare could rip your soul if he wanted to, if you even dared to look.

"You don’t know? You’re sorry? That’s not enough." He snorted as he stared down at you.

"I needed time and space.." You mumbled under your breath. This wasn’t how you thought you would spend your Saturday afternoon.

"Was eleven years enough time?" He replied, his tone still as cold as his words made your heart ache. After the first few months going no contacts you didn’t knew how to go back to talking to them, so you didn’t do anything. You were too scared and now you’re fighting your nightmares right now who is unironically also your first love.

When you finally look at him in the eyes again you notice how saddened he looks. The way his eyes glistened in the shadow of the clouds above your heads as he bit his bottom lip to keep a sob away. The tight grip on your wrist, almost making you believe he was holding you from running away from your problems again.

You missed him, not just the time you were hanging out, but him. You missed his annoying teasing, his constant smugness and his presence as a whole. This feeling washed all of the fear you constantly had away. "I missed you." You mumbles as you feel tears seeping down your eyes.

It must have taken him by surprise as his eyes widened, but he quickly recovered from it and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapping around your neck and his face burying in your hair.

It was your first hug with him, it made your heart quicken. The sense of long lost feelings towards Satoru resurfacing. Those same feelings that made you doubt yourself all those years ago.

You were tense at first, slowly relaxing before your own arms wrapped around him. Returning his gesture.

"I missed you too…so much." He whispered as he still tried to keep his emotions in check. He never was the type to cry in front of others, which annoyed you because you knew it wasn’t good for him.

As the embrace goes on you wondered what’s going to happen now. Will things just go back to "normal"? It can’t possibly be that easy, right?

"Come home with me…" He mumbled in your hair. To which you answered by a nod. You think that between you two, he probably missed you more than you thought he did. To be honest with yourself, you thought he didn’t missed you at all.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈Later┈┈┈┈┈┈

To say that the tension was palpable was an understatement. You sat on his couch as he gave you a glass of water. You took it into your hands and sipped on it.

He sat across from you. He kept analysing each of your features, as if he was comparing them to his memories of you.

"So…you still didn’t told me why you left without any life sign." He started as you posed the glass of water on the coffee table trapped in between the both of you.

"Not like it matters. I’m happy I have you back in my life now." He continued, a small spreading on his lips. God, you felt like you were being seduced just by him smiling faintly at you. Your heart beating faster as you smiled back.

You looked away for a second. Your words escaping your mouth for a second. "I had a crush on you in high school…" You’re voice was almost a whisper. "…No, not a crush. In love."

You turn your head back at him, glancing at his reaction. Dumbfounded, that’s the only word that could define it. "You were? In love with me?" He asks as he points at himself as a huge dumb grin made its ways to his face. You nod.

You know Satoru was helplessly in love with Suguru before, so you had no chance back then. But maybe this time…

[chososrightnipple]

clingy gojo who is rarely ever seen without his arms encircling your waist

clingy gojo who practically molds his body into yours because the feeling of your skin on his is more intoxicating than any drug

clingy gojo whose lips are constantly pressed against your neck or shoulders whenever he’s not yapping

clingy gojo whose favorite position to cuddle is laying on top of you and listening to your heartbeat

clingy gojo who can’t go a day without hearing your sweet voice

clingy gojo who leaves his clothes at your place because even if he’s not touching you, his sweatshirt is

clingy gojo who is tortured by the idea of losing you so he spends as much time as he can preventing that possibility

just clingy gojo <3

[livelaughlovesubs]

Head empty, only thinking about my fav’s creaming on my fingers.

It was such a nice way to get him all horny and messy for you in public, without too many risks. All you had to do was sneak your hand past his waistband, down that soft ass and inside his underwear. Next thing on the list was to tease that pretty boy and watch him stutter during an important conversation. His nails dug into his palms, face heating up as he fake coughs, trying to cover up his gasps as he excuses himself. Glaring at you but not slapping your hand away~

Or in some random bathroom stall! Make him bend over with his hands on the door as you fuck him on your fingers, purring at him to stay quiet if he doesn’t want to get caught. Calling him a dirty pervert when he fails and moans out loud. You say that, but you are obviously the one who wants to get exposed! Just to see him cry out of humiliation… even so he can’t stop begging for more while pushing his hips back ♥︎

Though it wasn’t only fun in public. It was also a spectacle when he’d straddle your lap, arms wrapped around your neck in a deadly grip. Those kiss-swollen lips right next to your ear while he whimpered for you to fuck him harder, to please put it in. Teary eyes with a dazed look as you made him cum the third time that day with only your fingers. Mocking him for being such a needy whore, creaming all~ over himself like some virgin. How much longer were you going to overstimulate him?

Maybe if you are feeling extra mean, you’d make him finger himself on your shared bed. Sitting in front of him and watching as you gave him commandos. Telling him to spread his legs more, to push another finger inside, or to beg more lewdly. At first he was so shy, so hesitant to show you all these embarrassing parts. Yet after some time he couldn’t think of anything else but the heat in his core, the need to be filled and fucked until he forgets his name ♡♡～

Wet squelching sounds echoing through the room as his whined out prayers reached your ears, hearts in his pupils and fingers knuckles deep inside his abused hole. He felt so tired, his eyelids so heavy, as if he was on the verge of passing out. A melting expressing plastering his blushing face, with glossy eyes and shiny tears. His body was trashing around, squirming and shaking with pure desire. And that useless dick was squirting with his precum. At the same time, he was begging you with such a sweet and debased voice. Pleading for your dick, and for you to absolutely wreck his insides.

“Please, plea~se..! Hnnghhh, I need you so bad, so- ahh♥︎ so fucking bad…! Ngh, f-fuck me, ruin me ♡♥︎♡”

Your favourites~

[burgojo]

27 CLUB. GETO / M!READER / GOJO

summary. satoru's crushing on suguru but finds out he's got a boyfriend! you are, however, equally dreamy, and if satoru was capable of such introspection, he might realise he has a type...

wc. 9.7k

tags. smut | dom top reader, switch bottom geto, sub bottom gojo; established geto/reader. non-sorcerer + rock/metal musician reader, reader is described as a big guy. skinny gojo supremacy, geto with piercings. somno, riding, doggystyle, exhibitionism, dub-con, degradation/praise, daddy kink (once; r. receiving), humiliation, gojo's a crybaby, edging, frotting, choking, overstimulation, gojo gets passed between reader + geto for a bit

"You brought me to a dive bar? Lame."

Suguru's brow twitches, but he says nothing – outwardly. "You were the one begging me to let you come with. Pick a side."

"I'm on the side of good music. I don't want to hear screeching kids out past their bedtimes."

"You think that's the sort of thing I listen to?"

"I mean," Satoru waves a hand in Suguru's general direction, eyeing his choice of clothes, "your outfit has so many holes in it. You could pass as a rebellious delinquent. Like one of them gyarus."

"I do not—" Suguru inhales, shaking his head; leave it to Satoru to think fishnets and cropped shirts count as clothes full of holes. His bangs sway over his eyes; for the first time in perhaps forever, his hair is loose. Satoru can't take his eyes off it when it shines blue-black under the street's neon lights. "I'm not falling for that again. Now, stop dragging your feet. We're here."

They halt in front of a big, dark block of cement. Its windows are blacked out with curtains, and years' worth of posters pasted to the walls overlap, flaking and peeling until only the fuzzy back sliver of the paper remains. The dates on the posters keep changing – the oldest one is from 1998. The ones on top are advertising weeks in the future, up to a month, and the shitty photo-editing reeks of their garage-band histories and amateurish natures.

One of the posters catches Satoru's attention. A young, attractive woman with dark hair and very few clothes on smoulders at him.

With a question on the tip of his tongue, Suguru approaches his side and follows his gaze questioningly. The eye-roll he gives is so quick it's almost pre-emptive. With a hand draped in black and silver jewellery, he grabs the back of Satoru's collar and hauls him away, almost lifting him clean off his feet. "Goodness, Satoru... Have some decency for once in your life."

"Hey! I thought you'd appreciate me taking an interest in your hobbies. And be gentle with that! It's designer!"

Suguru only lets go at the bottom of the stairs, where the evening light abruptly dims and every surface becomes twenty per cent stickier. Satoru grimaces at the palm of his hand, having caught himself against the wall when Suguru tossed him into the dingy basement like a sack of potatoes.

"This place is a real trash heap," he complains – or shouts, rather. The bass in the music rattles his bones like maracas. The place is less like a bar and more like a club. His sunglasses slip down his nose from the vibrations alone, and he pushes them up with a disapproving sniff. "Why couldn't we stay above ground? There seemed to be a perfectly okay bar up on the roof. Looked real nice and moody, too – good for dates."

"Because up there, they have to actually believe your ID," he says in a tone that adds the 'stupid' at the end for him. Without waiting for a response, Suguru pushes his hands into his pockets and leads the way into the bar. He waltzes up to the bartender, who seems to be between patrons. She dries a rocks glass in her hands. Her head bobs loosely to the beat of the live music.

He lifts two fingers. "Beer, please. Whatever's cheapest."

Satoru makes a noise at the back of his throat.

"It's not for you. Geez, Satoru, the world doesn't always revolve around you," he sighs exaggeratedly and flicks his bangs out of his eyes to meet Satoru's gaze. He smirks. "You want something to drink?" He points at the tiny backboard propped up beside him on the countertop, detailing a range of drinks and their prices. "Here are their non-alcoholics. If it won't make you sick, I recommend the raspberry float."

"Then I'll get that." Satoru leans against the bar in the space between Suguru's stool and the next. He shifts, trying to appear natural, and he places his other hand in the pocket of his jacket. He really doesn't need it in this cramped bar – not with the number of people crowding around, driving up the heat.

At the other end of the room, a large group stands at the base of a raised stage. The trio upon it complete sturdy rock covers of popular songs on the radio. They make for exciting listening, though their sound isn't what Satoru usually goes for.

Suguru flags down the bartender for Satoru's bright pink sugar abomination, and she drops off his two beers with a nod. Satoru doesn't have the time to wonder about them further before Suguru turns to him with a wry smirk.

"Sit down, greenie. You look like an idiot."

"And you don't?" he retorts, but hops up on a stool anyway. He prods the glistening mug of beer closest to him, inspecting the amber liquid within, and lifts his eyes.

What surprises him is that Suguru isn't looking at him – or at his drinks, either. Isn't one of the first rules of going to a bar ensuring one's drinks are always within sight?

He tilts his head, a light crease marring his brow. "Suguru? What're you looking at? Pay attention to me. I'm bored."

"I'm looking for someone," he replies coolly, scanning the crowds near the stage. With a sigh and a slump of the shoulders, he glances over at Satoru with a small smile, resting his elbow on the bar. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted. I haven't come here in a while, you see."

Satoru doesn't see – which is ironic – and wants to ask. But asking means he'll look his way, and that means Satoru won't be able to admire Suguru's pretty feline features for as long as he'd like. He'd get all embarrassed about it and growl at him.

Propping his chin on his knuckles, Satoru traces each curve and plane of Suguru's features with his eyes, committing every line to memory. Suguru won't always be this young, and the dim neon lighting is so nice on his skin, cutting deep shadows across the soft fantasy of his face.

Purple and green. Fitting, for a place called the Viper Lounge.

"Satoru. Your drink is here."

With a blink, he straightens up, and the pretty bartender lady shoots a knowing wink his way. The tall pink drink almost glows under the lights, and the float bobs with the tiny streams of fizzing soda bubbles that rise to the top.

Smiling to himself, Suguru glances back at the stage as Satoru's unyielding attention averts to the bartender, bothering her for a matching pink drink umbrella. The room is painted black, like a secret born to the night, and the stage matches the paint job. It makes its users seem to float several feet off the ground.

He taps his cheek with a soft sigh, fiddling with his brow piercing. His hair catches on it sometimes, but that's the price he must pay.

He watches Satoru absently. Where were you? Had your schedule changed in the weeks he'd been busy?

Then, with the faint echo of the microphone, an all-too familiar voice:

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

The leap from silence into rapid metal is violent. The drums beat lifeblood through veins. Steel shreds the guitar. Bass peels flesh from bone and snaps it back together.

Suguru's reverie shatters like glass.

There you are. Tall with confidence, clad in leather and denim. Your hair's shorter than he last remembers, but wilder, already-damp strands of hair sticking to your temples as if fresh from a romp in the sheets. Jewellery glints under the moody stage lights, and it's hypnotic, the way you charge up the crowd with your voice and your guitar. The amp by your feet is beat-up and worn, having played stepping stool to leather boots too many times, but it explodes with sound. Your sound.

You've got a quartet for a band, all faces made familiar through his connections with you. His heart flutters at the memory of your arm slung around his waist, pulling him into your side as you laugh at something your drummer said.

Satoru's head tilts as Suguru slides off the seat and grabs the two beers. "Suguru? Hey! Where are you going?"

It's too loud to hear him, what with the singing and the screaming and the heavy thump-thump-thump of drunken dancers jumping around. Suguru weaves through the crowd of crying fans – mostly girls; your bassist is your only female member – and it's easy to recognise him, his physical training and broad body letting him part the drunken gaggle just by walking forward and keeping balance.

He reaches the front of the crowd and lifts his face to you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes are endless in the shadowy room, and the way he raises the mug of beer feels like the hand of the devil. His tongue toys with his snakebite piercings, the soft pink of it peeking past his lips like a taunt.

During the lull of the song's vocals, you crouch down, avoiding the stares and grabbing hands of dozens of fans. You grip the beer – Suguru's smile widens – and rise to your feet. The rim's already at your lips, and rapid bob of your Adam's apple as you swallow invokes a wave of screams and a chant of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" that fills the bar.

Droplets run down your throat and soak into the collar of your shirt. Your skin glistens. Sweat dampens your throat and the furrow of your brow.

As the melody builds to a crescendo, you slam down the empty mug and launch into the song's chorus, the rough metal gravel of your voice sending more than one fan into hysterics.

Suguru watches the way your fingers fly over the guitar neck with impossible ease, smiling into his beer at the memories of those same fingers wrapped around his neck, his hips, his—

An arm falls over his shoulders. "Suguru! Don't run off like that again! Where you go, I go."

He glances over his shoulder. Satoru's almost shouting in his ear, and some ways behind him, he spots at the bar the empty glass with the pink umbrella balanced recklessly on the rim.

"Sorry," he shouts back, a sheepish, apologetic grin on his lips. "Got carried away. Did you like your drink?"

"Yeah," he says above the noise. "C'mon, hard to talk here! Let's find a booth."

Satoru slips in on one side, and Suguru takes the other. The deep red leather of the seats feels decadent in the low lighting, the same way velvet and jewels go together. Satoru peers over his glasses at Suguru with a shit-eating grin.

"Not gonna lie to you," he begins. "I'm pretty sure that normie over there was eyeing you up like a piece of candy."

There's a twang to his words, and Suguru smiles behind his glass of beer, leaning in and peering at Satoru closely. Nearly imperceptibly, Satoru leans away.

He straightens. "Are you jealous?" he says, almost in disbelief. "No way."

A pause.

"What?" he laughs, waving a hand as if to disperse the very thought from the air. "Jealous? Me? Of him? Don't make me laugh, Suguru. I'm way cooler! And better-looking."

"I'm not sure," Suguru hums, sparing a glance at the fans trying their damndest to touch the singer's steel-capped boots. "For starters, he drinks well."

"Don't say 'for starters' like you're about to dive into a list of compliments." Satoru pouts, crossing his arms. "Is he the person you were looking for earlier?"

"Mmh. He's got a good voice, doesn't he?"

"He sounds like he smokes three packs a day. But you don't care what I think, do you? You've already made up your mind."

Suguru chuckles, vanishing about half of his drink in two gulps. It's rather impressive. "That sound is raw talent and cultivated skill. You sound like you hate him."

"Nah, you're just trying too hard for a guy in some no-name garage band. Did you see his clothes?" He peers over his glasses at his friend. "They're western brands. Not cheap here. He's a total poser."

"But he looks good in them, right?"

"Eh. So-so."

"I bought them for him."

"I mean, they fit well on him. And they match the whole 'rockerboy' thing, but that's more because of you than him."

He hides his grin behind his beer, sipping on what remains to nurse it until your gig ends. Satoru's too predictable.

—

Later, Suguru ventures into the staff lounge with Satoru on his heels. Pleasantly warm with alcohol, he finds you alone by the couch, one boot kicked up on the footstool and an arm thrown over your eyes. Your chest rises and falls slowly with your breaths, and Suguru quietly slips around the furniture to take a seat next to you. He grasps your forearm and lowers it.

Satoru stares.

You're handsome. He gets it now.

One eye cracks open. Your hazy eyes pass over Satoru as if he's not even there – how annoying – and land on Suguru. Your gaze brightens and you sit up, lowering your boots to the ground.

"Oh, it's you!"

Your voice is surprisingly mellow, low and smooth like caramel. Despite your neutral affect – and the fact that you're not even addressing him – Satoru's cheeks warm.

"It's me." Suguru's voice is soft.

You gaze at him a while longer, the pause filled with your bright, contradicting smile. Then you grunt and sit forward with your elbows on your knees, your leather jacket creaking quietly. "My favourite man. What can I do you for?"

"You're too sweet, YN," he says, a flicker of shyness crossing his features. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Your brow furrows and you sigh, glancing aside. "I know, I'm sorry, doll. It's been difficult trying to adjust to my new job – just been dead tired all the time. Anyway – what is this, an interrogation? You gonna introduce me to your buddy or what?"

You cock your head up at Satoru, who stands in front of you with his hands in his pockets. With Suguru to your side and the corner of the room on the other, you have nowhere to go.

Suguru spares a glance at his friend. "Satoru, sit down." He turns back to you. "He wanted to come and I couldn't stop him. Just ignore him. I wanted to talk to you."

"Sure. What about?"

He places a hand on your knee. His nails are painted black. "I really wanna stay at your place."

If Satoru wasn't watching closely, he would've missed the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. He has to commend you – you smother it quickly.

"Tonight?"

"Mhm." He shuffles closer to you. His fingers twitch as he glances down at your hand, as if he has to suppress the urge to take it in his own. "Thought we could catch up a bit – braid each other's hair, do our nails, the whole nine yards."

You blink. "That's... awfully forward of you. You usually dance around these things until I finally figure it out."

His lips twitch up. "I can be direct when I want to be."

"Oh, so you just enjoy riling me up."

"I like what comes after."

Suguru's head tilts slightly, and your faces are an inch apart. His eyes flicker to your lips.

"Of course you can stay, Suguru," you murmur, your expression softening. "I'm glad you came here."

"Even though I'm breaking the rules?"

"My whole shtick is being counter-culture. That includes disobeying rules when they're stupid."

"When they're stupid," he echoes. He smiles, his dimples losing him his tough-guy persona. He bumps your shoulder with his, tucking his loose hair behind his ear. "Are you staying here for any reason?"

You shake your head. "Been paid and everything. I'm just abusing the couch for an air-conditioned nap. The others are going clubbing in a few hours if you want to meet up with 'em and say hi."

"Did you want to go?"

"Nah. I had a killer headache last night and don't want it coming back. Mostly, I planned to bake something."

Satoru can't hold it in any longer. "You bake?"

Two sets of eyes swivel to him where he stands by the fridge, checking out its contents.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to Suguru and stretch, resting an arm over the backrest behind his shoulders. A classic, almost dorky move, and one you do all the time, but Suguru's heart still flutters. "Who is this guy, by the way? Why's he wearing sunglasses inside? You're not cool, dude."

"I have sensitive eyes," he declares, pointing overhead at the bright, artificial white lights. "Name's Satoru."

You raise a brow. "I think you've been mentioned once. Last name?"

"Need-to-know basis."

You narrow your eyes at him.

Suguru interrupts the staring contest, shoving himself into your line of sight. "You said you had a headache. Are you okay?"

You drop the glare and smile at Suguru, squeezing his shoulder. "Mm, don't worry about it, baby. Nothing a few painkillers can't solve."

He lifts a hand to your face, tracing the shape of your cheek with his knuckles. His touch is so light it almost tickles. "If you say so. Don't forget to sleep more. It's not good for your skin."

You offer a fond smile. While swiping a few chocolates from the bowl on the table, Satoru notices how Suguru leans into your touch and how he presses his side into yours as much as he can, thighs and shoulders brushing. He didn't know he was... that sort of person.

Rather vacantly, Satoru thinks he should be more upset right now. After all, he's been pining after Suguru for the past year, and now he finds out that Suguru's got some normie with tight leather pants falling into his bed? He was planning on confessing after Suguru's birthday, but he supposes he should trash that plan.

Fuck. Awkward.

"Hey, Satoru." Suguru's soft voice draws him out of his thoughts. "YN wants to try a new recipe. Wanna come with?"

"You're gonna be my guinea pigs," you agree. Your heavy gaze rakes Satoru's body, and he suppresses a warm shiver. "Or my little white mouse."

Satoru tries to ignore his blush. He straightens, pocketing another chocolate. "You don't care about inviting a stranger to your house?"

"Any friend of Suguru's is a friend of mine." You stand and stretch with a pleased groan that feels far too intimate. "I don't have shit worth stealing, anyway, unless you count my banged-up guitar. It's, like, twenty years old."

"Not old enough to be vintage, too young to be seriously desirable." Suguru sighs, slumping against your side dramatically as you pass through the door together. "Story of my life."

"Ew. Don't joke about that." You glance past Suguru – Satoru's eyes, you notice past the glasses, are an unexpected shade of cornflower blue. "Hey, Baby Blues. How'd you two meet?"

"Hm? Oh, high school."

"Ah, you two are the same age?"

"Same class and everything," Suguru says as you wander towards your car, the keys jingling in your pocket as you try to find the correct one by touch alone. There's a shadow of a guitar case in the back of the car. "Can't get rid of him anymore."

"That just means you always have someone to shout you a drink or two." You pull open the door for Suguru and draw a vaguely round shape in the air with a finger. "Karma's a circle."

"Yeah? And where are you in that circle?"

Swiftly, you shut the door and turn to Satoru, nodding your head in the direction of the car. "Hop in, Blue! You'll be glad you came when you try my tiramisu."

—

Some time later, Satoru finds himself on your soft leather couch, nursing a very flushed Suguru on his left and a less-flushed you on his right. You cackle at his attempts to take the game controller off Suguru, and when Suguru gets touchier in order to body-block him, you can tell from his flustered expression that he doesn't really know how to deal with it when you're right there.

"I'm fine," Suguru sighs, batting Satoru's hands off. He leans in further, trying to push him back, when he persists. "Satoru, you're blocking my view with your big head! It's your fault if I die."

You own a PS2 with a pretty neat collection of games. Suguru is doing less than well with Metal Gear Solid 3.

"Let me have a turn," Satoru pleads, pouting when Suguru expertly weaves the controller away from him. He's had years of practice with it. "I'm so good at stealth games! Lemme try, I wanna go—"

"Just say you wanna impress YN. It's less desperate, man."

Satoru's jaw snaps shut with an audible click. His eyes are so blue that Suguru can see the shine of them behind his almost-opaque glasses.

Suguru smirks and shifts on the couch, tossing his legs over Satoru's lap victoriously. He settles comfortably among the pillows and returns his attention to the television.

"W-What?" he stutters. Did he hear that right? Was he drunk on the tiramisu's brandy?

"It's okay," Suguru says, sneaking past a guard successfully. He smiles victoriously, lip piercings glinting in the light. "I wouldn't mind sharing if it was you. Have you seen the size of him? I can't eat all that by myself."

You chuckle, one arm slung over the back of the couch. In your other hand is a brandy glass, the dark amber alcohol you used in the tiramisu sparkling under the light as you gesture with the glass. "Dunno 'bout that last bit. You try pretty hard to."

"I don't like leaving my meals half-finished. I'm also generous to those less fortunate – Satoru's never dated anyone, you know? I wouldn't want him getting hurt by some selfish asshole because he doesn't know any better. That's why I think you'd be good for him."

The colour of Satoru's face rivals Suguru's. He rubs his cheeks, sinking into the couch. "Stop telling him my life story! You're making me sound really uncool. You're so wasted, Suguru – is this what you're like outside of school?"

"I'm not that far gone," Suguru groans, controller going limp in his hand. He reaches around Satoru to give it to you, which you accept – you immediately start blitzing through the in-game building, attention now completely elsewhere. He levels him with an unimpressed stare. "I could probably take you right now."

"You want to fight me in your boyfriend's apartment?" Satoru squawks. "He made food for you! Control yourself. Gosh..."

"'Control thine emotions'," he mocks. "I'm perfectly in control. You need to admit that you like my boyfriend."

"I don't." Panic drips from his voice.

"You totally do. It's cute – I've never seen you with a crush on anyone. A rich boy liking an underground rockstar? Embarrassing. I've read that manga before."

"No, I don't – I'm not a manga protag—" He cuts himself off, jabbing a finger into Suguru's chest. "I just have eyes, okay? I can tell when someone's, like, visually appealing. You're visually appealing. Doesn't mean I'm going goo-goo over you."

With a roll of his neck, Suguru leans in, propping his elbow on his shoulder. He levels his gaze at him, blinking slowly.

He sucks in a breath. He can smell his honey-scented shampoo. He's holding on by the skin of his teeth.

"A-And," Satoru continues, shifting in his seat. How incredibly unfortunate it is that he's sitting between you and Suguru. Why is that, anyway? Weren't you the ones dating? "You're being weird. Who the fuck talks about this? Like, seriously."

"YN and I talk like this all the time. You're just a prude." He sticks out his tongue, and the flash of a silver piercing studded into his tongue leaves Satoru breathless and shocked. He scrambles forward, reaching towards him, and pinches Suguru's jaw with one hand.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaims, brows furrowing. Memories of the previous conversation are all but gone.

Suguru lifts an eyebrow, glancing aside. He'd almost forgotten how strong Satoru can be. "What's what?"

"That." He shifts his grip, forcing Suguru's lips to part. His tongue flicks against his front teeth, and the little silver ball catches the light.

"A pierthing," he replies, muffled. He lets Satoru, alarmed at their sudden closeness, pull away first with a scandalised blush. Suguru rubs his cheeks and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, showing it off with a glint in his dark eyes.

Satoru stares. How is his tongue so long?

"Cool, right? I wanted to match YN's look. It makes us look ten times better than the next couple."

He blinks himself out of his daze. "Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as you'd think. I had to get used to talking with it, though – I was lisping like crazy while it healed. I was thinking of getting a septum piercing to balance it out – or just more on the ears."

"You never tell me anything." He pouts. "How'd I never notice it...?"

"You think I don't tell you things? Fine. How about this?" Suguru shuffles forward and drapes an arm over Satoru's shoulders. He offers a lazy smirk and cups a hand by Satoru's ear. "It makes guys feel great."

His heartbeat pounds in his skull. He swears Suguru glances down at his lips – but that could be his woozy double vision. His hair looks so soft...

"Done," you announce, setting the controller in Satoru's lap – he picks it up hastily before Suguru can nab it. He huffs and crosses his arms, empty-handed. "Your turn, Blue. I wanna see some slick action, or we both get to watch Suguru struggle with holding people up."

"I am not that bad!" he snaps. "The controller buttons are sticky."

"A bad workman blames his tools," Satoru says automatically.

He immediately begins to argue.

Hm. You can see why Suguru's so endeared with the white-haired man, especially when he takes off his glasses to blink his huge, glossy blue eyes up at him. He's pouting, Suguru's waving his arms around, and you're certain you've got enough room in your bed for three.

—

In the darkness of your bedroom, you're slowly dragged from the depths of sleep by a weight above you. Your brow furrows, a little grumble falling from your lips, as hands trail down the sides of your face and play with your hair.

"YN."

You release a soft breath.

"YN. Wake up."

Your eyes crack open, and you find yourself frowning up at Suguru's shadowy figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you notice that he's not wearing any pants.

He shifts on your lap, face inches from yours. His long hair is swept over his shoulder, slightly messy with sleep. His eyes, however, are perfectly awake, staring down at you with an animal hunger.

"Hey, you," he whispers fondly, barely a breath. He lowers his body over yours even further until your chests press together. You wrap a lazy arm around his waist. "Need you, baby."

"Suguru," you whisper back, only just now noticing the state of your boxers. They're slick and sticky, and you know for certain not all of it is because of you. "How long have you been at this?"

"Five, ten minutes. I don't know. I got impatient." He ghosts his lips over yours, tucking his hair over his ear before he cups your face. "Need you so bad. Need you right now."

"Fuck, seriously?" you huff, shifting slightly so you can rest back on an elbow. "Damn nymphomaniac..."

A body beside you rolls over. You freeze.

Shit. You'd forgotten he was here. Satoru had been insistent on taking the couch, but Suguru's large brown eyes and sweet words had worn him down. When you chimed in to express your agreement with your boyfriend, he'd broken fully, and accepted.

"I've already prepped myself," Suguru breathes, pressing his bare cock against the front of your boxers. He rolls his hips slowly, kissing you equally torturously. "Please, baby? Needa come so bad."

His words are slurring. Usually so put-together, Suguru grinds against your growing bulge with a soft whimper, eyes fluttering shut as his cockhead catches on the cloth.

He's going to be the death of you.

You place your hands on his waist, lifting him just enough to reach your waistband and free yourself from your boxers. Suguru sighs shakily and tucks the band below your balls, batting away your hand to be able to hold it himself. You roll your eyes at his attitude but allow him to admire your cock. He nibbles on his lower lip as he rakes its length with his heavy gaze.

"You're already hard," he teases under his breath, closing his fist around it and stroking it from tip to base and back again in one rough motion. You jump slightly, a hiss slipping out between your teeth. Suguru silences you with a hot kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he strokes you and swallows your sounds.

He shifts cautiously on his knees, mindful of Satoru's still body next to him, and opens his hand to slot his cock against yours. He purrs as he tugs them both, head falling against your shoulder as he rocks back and forth atop your lap.

"So good," he whispers into your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck. You can feel him tremble – with excitement, with exertion. His breaths are shaky as he quickens his fist, rutting against you.

He's dripping. Your shared arousal slicks up your cocks, and Suguru's wet palm squelches quietly with every stroke. He shudders out a soft moan, nails digging into the pillow beneath your head.

"Is this what you wanted?" you growl under your breath, hands pressing firmly against his waist and forcing him to grind harder into your cock. His hips stutter. "Fuckin' whore, doing this when your best friend's a foot away from you..."

He swallows a moan as you dig your thumb into his leaky slit. "Y-Yes – yes, I wanted this. 'M sorry for being such a slut," he whines softly, his thick thighs tensing atop yours. His cock jumps as Satoru shifts in his sleep. "Oh, fuuuck..."

You chuckle breathlessly as Suguru leans into you, his slick fist squelching louder as he grinds more desperately into you. You hold your hand in place, formed into a loose circle, and allow Suguru to fuck into it as his tip catches on the ridge of your glans with every thrust.

"G-Gonna come," he whispers against your jawline, free hand tangling in your hair. His little moans feel so much louder right by your ear, and your heart races whenever it pitches that much higher. "Ohh, god..."

"Yeah," you pant, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. You press your palm against his shoulder – his heart pounds through his back. "That's right, dollface. Don't hold back. I wanna see my pretty slut come for me, alright? Wanna have your come all over me."

His rushed, shallow little humps rock the mattress dangerously. You grip the shelf of his hips in warning, slowing him down. He whimpers like an injured animal, pleading.

Swallowing roughly, you wrap one hand around his cock and use the other to grip his plush ass beneath his oversized t-shirt, your fingers digging into the soft skin. He gasps softly and presses into your touch, humming gratefully as you jerk him off, your thumb swiping over his swollen tip.

With an arch of his spine, his arms tightening around you, he comes, his pants and sighs soft and breathy against your skin. He presses his hips against yours, coating your cock and stomach with spurts of hot come.

Your head falls back against the pillow, an exhale escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Suguru collapses on top of you, hips still jerking intermittently, and you can feel his sticky pleasure dripping down your sides in rivulets. Fuck.

Suguru tucks his head under your chin, dragging a thumb down your side and smearing his pearly release over your warm skin. Your stomach tenses under his touch and he smiles, tongue running over his piercings.

"I want yours inside me," he declares, leaving no room for argument. "Don't waste it."

"Waste it?" you breathe. "Waste it for what? You want kids or something?"

His lashes flutter as his gaze lifts to yours, dark and smoky. "Something like that."

He picks himself up and positions himself upright on your lap, shifting on his knees to better balance his weight. He glances at Satoru's curled body and mop of messy white hair, almost glowing in the darkness. Heat swirls in his stomach as he notices how tightly Satoru's gripping his pillow. A wicked grin tugs at his lips.

Suguru grinds his ass against your cock, one hand reaching back to rub the tip and press it against his fluttering hole. He lets the tip catch against his rim, throwing his head backwards and scattering long locks of hair in a cascade down his back. His hole clenches around nothing.

"Feels like you're about to burst," he teases softly, continuing to rub against the shaft. "Your balls are so heavy, too... Please let me have your come, daddy. I want it all inside me."

"Dirty little thing. If you can stay quiet, I'll let you have it," you mutter, bending one knee to give him some support. He grips it, lifting his hips, and slowly sinks down on your thick cock, hole clenching and fluttering around you at the stretch.

"I can, I promise." He exhales shakily, expression twisted with pleasure and pain. "Fuck."

"Take it easy," you murmur, eyes flashing with concern.

He chuckles, breathy. "What if I said I liked it?"

"I'd call you a whore."

"And I'll prove it." With a sharp inhale, his hole swallows the rest of your cock in a single gulp. His thighs quiver, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. His cock throbs, hot against his skin.

"Holy shit," you exhale, eyes wide as he trembles around your dick, his long hair flowing over his shoulders as he stares down at the join of your bodies, fascinated by his own capacity. You can feel every pulse of his heartbeat, every ripple of his silken insides. He's tight as a vice, gripping your cock, and he moans softly as a spurt of precome makes the fit a little easier.

He grins, eyes dazed but focussed solely on you. He moans when you wrap your fingers around his cock, wet and hot, and begins to rock his hips, fucking into your grasp.

"Hard already," you note in an almost condescending tone of voice, twisting your fist and making him suck in a sharp breath. "You're such a pervert, aren't you, Suguru? Touching your boyfriend when he's sleeping, riding him where your best friend could wake up and see how shameful you are... I bet you'd fuckin' come if he watched you like this."

A hand shoots up to muffle his cry. Your cock nudges his prostate and he presses into it, but you keep shifting your damn hips to avoid knocking into it directly.

He's helpless. Why did you know him so well? Why was he cursed to suffer at the hands of a sadist?

"Quiet," you whisper warningly, grip tightening on his hips and forcing him to keep moving. You experiment with a few upward thrusts, meeting his bounces halfway with meaty smacks that feel far too loud in the silence of the room.

"I can't keep quiet if you're fucking my brains out," he hisses, but his aggression melts away the moment you crush his prostate head-on. Briefly, his eyes roll back to show their whites, and he shudders out a broken, muffled moan.

You pat the side of his ass, making him flinch at the sound. "Relax," you huff offhandedly, "I'm not even doing all that much. You're just too much of a slut to notice the difference – a cock inside you, and all your thoughts fly right out the window. You're so pretty, doll. Stop thinking so hard."

"Asshole," he grunts, but doesn't stop bouncing. He throws his head back. "Ohh, fuck me, your cock is so damn good..."

"That's right, baby. Just like that," you groan, his tight slick hole dragging with every lift of his hips. His pace grows unsteady, messy, a creamy white ring forming around the base of your shaft. You quicken your strokes, matching Suguru's shallow bounces, and he gasps your name, cock spurting precome that you smear over his shaft to make the glide easier – filthier.

"Fuck me," he curses, his voice growing dangerously whiny. "Why are you holding back? Just come! Come inside, please, I-I'm so close, wanna come with you—"

You thrust into him roughly and squeeze his cock. He chokes out a sharp gasp, far too loud, as thick come paints his insides white. He spills into your hand, his creamy release running over your knuckles and down his swollen, pulsing shaft. He grips your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and his sides tighten as his movements slow, each bounce long and slow as he grinds down as deep as possible.

His muscles loosen as he pants, slumping down on top of you as he dips his tongue between your lips. You groan lazily as his piercing bumps your teeth and rolls against your tongue. You squeeze his hip, smoothing your palm over the generous curve of his ass. Your lips smack softly and he shivers, his cock giving one more valiant throb.

In the corner of his vision – the peripherals of his senses – Satoru twitches.

Suguru sits up immediately, to your confusion.

"Baby?"

He hushes you, not sparing you a glance. His gaze bores into his friend's back.

"Satoru?" he whispers.

Like clockwork, he stiffens.

A grin tugs at Suguru's lips. You stare up at him, propped up on an elbow. You don't have his sorcery-enhanced sensitivities – you don't notice that the white-haired figure next to you is breathing harder than usual, or that he's shifting far too much for sleep.

"Satoru," he hums, soft and coaxing. "I know you're awake."

Your heart drops like a stone. Suguru, however, smiles wider.

"Not moving won't do anything, you know."

Then—

Slowly, he sits up. His hair is more of a mess than it usually is. His oversized white shirt has risen slightly and shows off a sliver of pale skin.

Suguru is going to kill him. He's sure of it. His voice is soft and dangerous.

"How long were you awake?"

His head feels foggy, still reeling from shock. "Uh..."

Suguru lifts a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling with a little titter. He points down at Satoru. "Long enough, I'd wager."

He looks down. His face explodes with heat.

The hard-on strains at the front of his shorts. A dark spot mars the cloth where his tip would be.

Shit. Fuck. He'd borrowed your clothes �� so had Suguru – and here he was, soiling them with his envy and desperation. He was such a freak.

"I-I can explain," he stammers, and you can't help admiring the way he seems to swim in your clothes. The elastic in the shorts had to be pulled as tight as possible for it to stay up without help, and even then, they sat teasingly low, showing off his delicate hipbones whenever he stretched.

Smirking, Suguru gradually lifts his hips, eyes fluttering as he pulls off of your cock. Satoru's ocean eyes widen at the sight of it resting on your stomach.

"No need," he says evenly. Satoru doesn't need his Six Eyes to catch the drop of pearly liquid rolling down the inside of his thigh as he leans over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. It douses the room in a faint golden glow. He bites back a whine as Suguru continues, as if nothing's wrong. "Come here, Satoru."

When he extends his hand, it's like salvation. Satoru stares at his kind, open palm.

He takes it. Suguru's slender fingers wrap around his, tugging him closer. He coaxes him nearer, the way one would with a frightened animal.

You're looking at him. You're both looking at him. Something sick and twisted in him likes it.

"Do you want us?" Suguru says softly. "Or have I read you wrong?"

Satoru swallows around the dry lump in his throat. His lips part. "I... I thought you wouldn't like me that way."

"Oh, Satoru," Suguru croons, lifting a hand to brush his white bangs out of his eyes. "Always so perceptive about everything but yourself."

Satoru's eyes dart away and amongst his jittering nerves, he latches onto the steadiness of your gaze, trained on him. He flushes when you smirk, your bare upper body displayed like a piece of art beneath his stare.

"Who do you want first?" you ask, and Suguru presses himself into your side. You level your gazes at him, and he stutters out some nonsense before falling quiet, pinned beneath your attention. "Suguru's already prepped, if you swing that way."

Suguru rolls his eyes at your choice of words, though he smiles fondly. "Surely he wants you, rockerboy. You're new – a novelty."

"And you're something familiar in an unfamiliar situation. Why wouldn't he choose you?"

"Can't I have both?" Satoru says quietly, though he blanches when your shared attention turns to him. "U-Uh, I mean—"

Suguru turns to you thoughtfully. "Hm?"

Your eyes glitter. "Hm."

—

"That's it, sugar," you chuckle, sliding a warm palm up Satoru's side to wrap around his throat. He gasps as you grip his jaw, forcing his lips to part, and maybe you're stronger than he'd like to admit – one hand on his shoulder, one around his throat, and that's all you need to lift him plain off the bed. His fingers scrabble at the sheets, barely brushing, and in his desperation, he grips your waist. The position only has him arching even further, your cock slamming into his bruised and sensitive prostate.

"Ah, ah, ah," he moans, eyes fluttering and silvery hair sticking to his damp temples. "Ah – Suguru, d-don't watch...!"

You wrench his head up, forcing a cry from his throat. You click your tongue, shaking your head. "Tsk tsk tsk. Look at him. Look, Satoru."

He mewls and obeys despite the hot shame and arousal crawling around his guts. The way you say his name makes him dizzy – not soft and purring like Suguru, not reverential or tense like other sorcerers. To you, he's just a brat, and you're firm with him in a way that nobody else has ever been. Not cruel – just firm.

When Satoru lifts his watery gaze to Suguru, he finds him staring down at the length swinging between his legs. His hole clenches as his thighs attempt to close – to hide himself away. You hiss in pleasure, knocking his knees apart with your own.

"Fuck," you rasp, stroking his lean hip and admiring the way bruises bloom red on his pale skin. "Look him in the eye, Satoru. You wanna make him come, right? We're doing this for Suguru. Don't be so selfish that you forget who you're serving."

"S-Sorry," he hiccups, shakily arching his back and exposing his bare, leaking cock, deep red with want. His gasps and moans are loud, echoing off the walls, almost drowning out the sound of your thighs smacking his ass. "Ah—! S-Slow down, I – nngh!"

Satoru's cock throbs painfully. The cockring you'd placed on him strangles his base, and his heartbeat pulses in his dick. He wants to come really bad.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Suguru's foot nudges his pulsating cock, pressing roughly against it. A teasing smile plays at his lips and he hums as Satoru chases the friction with a miserable, choked noise, whimpering when you drag him back towards you.

"I-I – it feels—" He can't think straight, head spinning like he's been slammed against concrete one too many times. His breath snags on the thick air as your fingers dig into his jaw. Your dick punches the breath from his lungs, dragging the painful pleasure up from deep in his belly. He sniffles softly, hazy eyes welling with crystal tears. "Ahn – Suguru," he sobs, so weak and pathetic even to his own ears that it makes his cock swell within its cage, its tip drooling incessantly.

How cute – begging his best friend for help. As if he'd listen.

"Don't slow down," whispers Suguru, voice like silk. "He can take it. He's the strongest."

That means nothing to you, but Satoru's gut clenches violently. Humiliation curls around his thoughts, burning the fringes of his mind with an electrifying shame.

Suguru slinks forward, sliding his thigh between yours in the mess of legs. His touch flutters over Satoru's warm cheeks and he presses close. You slow your pace to a snail's crawl, dragging against and kissing Satoru's swollen gummy prostate.

"I can't," Satoru whimpers, weak in your hold. He leans into Suguru's gentler touch. "I can't do it. I can't. It's too much."

"No, it's not. Don't be silly," Suguru hums, taking his cock in his hand and making Satoru sob and jerk. He aligns it with his, rutting against it lazily. God, he's got another fucking piercing right beneath the glans of his dick – it catches, smooth and hard, on the ridge of Satoru's tip. His bright eyes lose their focus and his hips twitch. "I'm not letting you go until I think you're done. Just try not to pass out, okay?"

"He won't. He's a good bitch – barely needs any training. He takes me like a fuckin' champ." Your cock punches into his guts and he squeals, his cries high and melodic even as he falls limp in your hands, his fingers scrabbling at your hips and thighs. Suguru moans at the contact, his fist wrapped around both his and Satoru's lengths. "F-Fuck – you're both so damn pretty like this."

Satoru gasps as Suguru smiles and leans over his shoulder to kiss you. Pressed between your bodies, Satoru can hear every wet smack and soft moan of your kisses right in his ear. His cock throbs violently, leaking a constant stream of pre.

Suguru's hands rest on his hips, gently guiding him back and forth between your cock and his. His cock is warm and velvety, and Satoru whimpers as Suguru presses further into him to kiss you deeper with a pleased sigh. Your grip tightens on Satoru's jaw, pulling him into your chest, and he mewls, squeaky little moans falling from his lips as your cock fills him up over and over again, fucking him like he made you angry.

"S-Suguru—!" He can't get the rest of his sentence out before two thick fingers shove into his mouth. His yelp melts into a moan as they press down on his tongue, silencing him.

"Hot," Suguru observes, parting from you to catch his breath and watch the way his friend sucks and drools on your fingers, his cerulean eyes dazed and glossy. "Kiss me again."

You oblige, twisting your hand in his long, loose hair and pulling him towards you. His lips are warm and plush, and his breath hitches as your tongue rolls across his, flicking the silver piercing there. You pull back for air but he doesn't let you, yanking you back in and tracing the length of your tongue with a debauched moan.

Satoru can hear it all. He can't watch – no, not with your firm grip on his jaw – but not being able to see makes everything ten times worse. He feels like a toy, his high withheld and his sight limited. For all his gifts, he still has to fucking turn to see things, and he wishes really, really badly that he knew what it looks like.

He can imagine it clearly. Your faces flushed, your hair mussed. Suguru's delicate features relaxed into a wanton expression, his piercings glinting in the low light as his tongue twists with yours. Your brow furrowed, your lips swollen, as you suck on his tongue.

Desperately, with tears in his eyes, he slobbers around your fingers, gripping your wrist in both hands. Saliva runs down your knuckles and Satoru chokes as you push your fingers deeper, sliding over his tongue possessively. He adapts quickly, muffled moans high and needy as your cock slams into his guts.

He swears you can't be a non-sorcerer. How else could you ruin him so easily? How else are you tracking every little twitch that gives away his most sensitive places? How else are you still going?

You've backed off now, instead staring at Satoru and the way his lips close around your fingers like they're a cock. Suguru, equally mesmerised, licks his lips.

As if you're one being, you remove your fingers from Satoru's slick mouth, and Suguru cups his face and kisses him.

Kisses him.

Kisses him.

He can't think. His body moves on instinct, his teeth clashing with Suguru's in a messy and uncoordinated manner, but he is kind, and he coaxes control from him to teach him how to kiss. Blue eyes made even bluer with the red ringing his lashline, Satoru moans and scratches at Suguru's shoulders, cock throbbing as the ring bites into his raw shaft. Suguru's fingers brush against his tight, aching balls and he blubbers like he's going to die.

"Please," he manages to choke out, gasping and jerking as Suguru scrapes his nails down his dark red length. "P-Please..."

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. More? Less? For Suguru to stop looking at him as if he'd hung the stars? He's a sinful, degenerate mess, he knows it – far from the perfect and powerful sorcerer the world expects. The Gojo clan heir, ruined on something so obscene and mortal as a big, thick cock.

You turn his face towards you, watching the tears fall over the flushed apples of his cheeks. He's so pale that every little touch burns him with lust, and his embarrassment spreads from his cheeks to his chest and down his shoulder blades.

You press your lips against his and he whimpers, a hand shooting up to grip your hair. He kisses back, moaning as you swipe your tongue over his lower lip, and the slick sounds of your lips smacking makes his walls flutter and clench around you.

He's clumsy, but eager. He whines like a puppy, bouncing on your cock, and leans into your touch when your hand smooths over his stomach, shiny and slick with his pre. He pants into your mouth. You swallow his moans.

Firm and swift, Suguru snatches Satoru's chin and pulls his face towards his. He makes an ugly sound as Suguru wraps his hand back around their cocks, forming a loose hole for them to fuck into – Suguru's release is thick and creamy, and it feels filthy when he smears it over both their cocks.

He came! He came, he realises joyfully, relief and arousal flooding his veins in equal parts – he came because of him! Satoru melts into the kiss, lips slick and parted as they pant and moan, sharing hot breaths between them. The air is muggy. Suguru licks into his mouth, hardly human, and tears stream down Satoru's cheeks, his brain so mushy he can't tell your limbs from Suguru's, or his own from the bedsheets.

Barely letting him breathe, you grab Satoru's face and stick your tongue down his throat. He hiccups, eyes rolling back as you grind into his ass and come with a grunt in hot, thick spurts. His toes curl and his lips pout pathetically, chasing yours when you pull back to check on Suguru. He whines and tugs your hair to make you turn those pretty eyes back to him again, your warmth spilling into him and making him yours. You allow it, your tongue running over the slick nubs of his teeth.

Suguru scrapes his canines over Satoru's pale throat, only marred by his blush. That won't do. He drags his pierced tongue down his jugular and across his Adam's apple, made more pronounced by the angle of his neck – Satoru sobs into your mouth, chest heaving as he grips Suguru's hair and feels the sting of hickeys bitten into his fair skin.

Through his tears and dizzy pleasure, he's given back to Suguru, who coos at him and kisses him sweetly – no tongue this time, just their swollen lips moulded together as if they belong right there and nowhere else. He twitches as your teeth sink into his shoulder, decorating his other side with love bites. He's never gonna be able to hide them all.

Passed around like a cigarette, like a whore, Satoru barely realises it when Suguru slips off the cockring – with some difficulty, as his cock, stomach, and thighs are so wet with pre that it makes everything feel like a damn waterslide. The moment it scrapes over his swollen tip, he's crying out and tensing, sobbing as heavy spurts of sticky come spray Suguru's stomach and thighs.

He tries to say their names – because they're so kind, so good to him, he has to say thank you and be grateful because they could've left him there all by himself – but the first syllables of their names devolve into relieved, babbling moans. Suguru strokes his hair, holding him close, as you help him ride out his bliss, your pace gradually slowing as he twitches and jolts in your hands.

As his high peters out, he slumps into Suguru's arms, whining shakily as you pull out with a slick pop. He clenches around nothing, his hole gaping and abused, and clutches Suguru like a lifeline.

You hum, pressing a thumb against Satoru's dark puffy hole and pulling gently. Feebly, it clamps around nothing, and a dribble of thick white come leaks out, joining the mess between his legs.

Man, those legs. He could be a model with a body like that. Despite being taller, Satoru's slimmer than Suguru, and he feels tiny and fragile in your palms, shuddering and trembling. You squeeze his slim thighs, watching his fair skin dimple under your touch like marble, and his muscles twitch, unsure whether to pull away or press into you. He decides on the latter, moaning softly when you grab his ass appreciatively.

"Such a darling," Suguru hums, voice light and adoring as he brushes the tears from Satoru's warm red cheeks with his thumb. "You did well, Satoru."

Giggling dreamily, he nibbles on his lower lip, pushing his cheek against Suguru's shoulder. He reaches blindly behind him, and when he finds your hand, he pulls you in behind him, forcing your arm to wrap around his little waist. He purrs, perfectly pleased now that he's squished between two big, warm bodies. "Yeah...?"

Suguru nods, his long hair falling over Satoru's shoulder too. "Yeah."

Eyelids half-closed and nose buried in Suguru's neck, Satoru follows easily as you lead them to lay down on the bed. When your arm loosens around his waist, however, his hand shoots out with startling speed and accuracy.

"W-Where are you going?"

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounded afraid.

"Bathroom. Gotta get you two cleaned up before it gets gross," you reply gently. He has Suguru to ground him. That doesn't seem like enough, though, because his large blue eyes well up again and his lower lip trembles. His grip tightens around your wrist and you're surprised when it almost begins to hurt.

"Stay," he whispers, slender pale neck craned to look you in the eye. It's covered in bruises and bite marks.

"I'm not leaving," you chuckle, stroking his inner wrist with your thumb. "You're in my bedroom. Nowhere else for me to go."

He shakes his head, stubborn – they're both like that. "Don't care," he whimpers, tugging insistently. "Come back. Clean later."

"But you're the messiest one here, Satoru," you point out, amused, and you don't miss the way he shivers when you say his name. "Surely you don't want to stay that way?"

"Don't care," he repeats in a mumble. He hums as you obey his iron grip and return to the bed, lying down in front of him. He snuggles into your chest, sighing soft and content as Suguru shuffles closer behind him. He feels your arm join Suguru's, resting over his waist. The heavy weight of them combined and the radiating warmth from your chests fade his thoughts into pleasant nothingness.

"Suguru?" you murmur.

"Hm?" His chest rumbles delightfully against Satoru's back.

"I've got him. You can get washed up if you like."

"It's alright. He'll pull me back down, just like you. It doesn't feel bad – I sorta like it. I've been covered in worse, anyway."

You curse under your breath, arm shifting around Satoru. "Do I wanna know?"

"No."

You chuckle lightly, and your next words are soft and teasing. Suguru responds in kind. Satoru's eyes flutter closed, the rest of your quiet conversation becoming hazy background noise as it lulls him to sleep.

Surrounded by warmth – a very human warmth that Satoru's been chasing for years – he can't help curling up like a cat, breathing soft and even as your rumbling voices pass over his head. Yours is deeper than Suguru's smooth, easy cadence, something of your musical talents emerging in the depths of your voice. It makes it easy for his subconscious to follow – at least for a while, before they blend into one lilting track.

Dreams come easy to him. How could they not when this pretty fantasy of his has just come true, tucked in the arms of Suguru and his dreamboat of a boyfriend?

Well, it's like Suguru said: can't get rid of him. He's yours, now – no takesies backsies.

[reiyaus]

gender neutral intended

”of all the men in this world, you really had to choose this one?”

yaga grumbles, scratching his head as you kneeled sheepishly on the classroom floor. your fingers nervously tapped on the flesh of your thighs, mentally cursing satoru- who sat parallel to you- and glaring at him through your peripheral.

just minutes ago- your fingers were tangled in his hair (which you now want to rip off), your lips danced in sync with his (the very lips you wish to sew tight forever) as his toned arms caged you between him and the wall.

only minutes ago did you feel like the most accomplished person on earth. now, all you felt was humiliation; your own teacher catching you in the middle of your stupid act.

sneaking out of training to make out with satoru gojo in the school closet.

while yaga continued on with his rant, pacing around the classroom and cursing out whoever, satoru pokes the side of your leg. his head is turned towards you, allowing you to see the boyish smirk on his face.

the very face that got you in this mess. that dumb, obnoxious, sexy face.

“my dorm later?” he mouths, raising his brows in suggestiveness. you scoff, lightly slapping his thigh.

“have you no shame?” you whisper, feeling irked while he chuckled.

“in what world would i be ashamed to be with you?” satoru grins sappily, pinching the side of your thigh. you held back a yelp and instinctively slap his arm.

yaga hasn’t noticed yet, fortunately, his back was still turned to you.

“no! satoru, there’s absolutely no way im going out with you after this!” you whisper-yelled. you were lying, of course. no way you would leave someone as irritating, yet perfect, for someone else to snatch.

he pouts, looking back forward and heaving a dramatic sigh. “offer’s still up though. hah, i wonder how he’ll react when he finds out about the other times we-“

“what other times?”

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about free use boyfriend but it’s more of him begging you to use him at any and every opportunity, having him teasingly brush up against you or bending over for you when you’re watching tv or trying to do work, with three of his fingers buried in his sopping wet cunt , or with a plug laying snug inside, purposely showing off his gaping hole or even fucking himself in front of you, putting on a whole show til you’re achingly hard in your pants and he’s loudly begging - sobbing for you to fuck him but being unable to do anything because even though you can use him whenever you want, he still has to earn the permission to touch you.

Or thinking about free use boyfriend who’s just so excited to get used, but tries to keep it under wraps, does his best to have a conversation with you about your rough week while you’re pounding into him, but sweet thing can’t focus with your cock erratically driving up into his prostate, lays there loudly sobbing while you talk about some pesky coworker, blunt nails clawing at whatever surface’s supporting him in an attempt to maintain the last bit of his sanity but at some point it becomes too much for him so much so he stops responding and you have to deliver harsh slaps to his ass to bring him out of his trance, as you remind him this little arrangement is for your pleasure not his, and to speak when you ask him something, but sweet thing is so far gone, only manages to respond in broken sobs, even cums before you manage to finish, so you force him to stand there on shaky legs, cum smeared on his stomach and thighs while you retell your story and continue to pound his now sensitive ass

[mechsangel]

˚₊⋅─── WRONG NUMBER ───⋅ ˚₊

☆. # SYNOPSIS — you accidentally text the wrong number while complaining about your new boss.

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — awooga ,, hot gojo boss man

☆. # WARNINGS — comedy, office au, gojo being an annoying little shit, utahime + shoko as best friends.

-> masterlist for company property!

[4nicolas]

satoru thinks he likes the moments after sex with you more than the actual sex itself.

I mean, don’t get him wrong he absolutely loved when the two of you fucked but there just something about the intimacy of the afterglow.

whether satoru was collapsed on top of you or you were collapsed on top of him it felt great. the warmth of your bodies combined made you feel even better.

the two of you coming down from your highs and simply enjoying one another’s presence was another kind of bliss.

he couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted nothing more than to keep you in bed all day; cuddling or being intimate he didn’t care. as long as it contained both your bodies pressed together.

although you were both sticky and sweaty you still felt incredibly comfortable. laying in your own fluids is gross, yeah, but with satoru none of that mattered.

even when the two of you were intertwined satoru still needed more, he needed his arms around you and his legs tangled with yours. he just needed you as close as possible.

your presence alone made him tremendously happy, having your physical touch was just an added bonus, he feels like the happiest man alive when you give him something as simple as a hug. so obviously cuddling was his favorite pastime.

the two of you breathing heavily, not speaking but all the words you wanted to get out being said. your love and adoration was already communicated through the past moments and laying in a comfortable silence was just the cherry on top.

satoru liked to trace little shapes on your skin, his fingers lulling you into a trance, he tried not to let you fall asleep though, he needed his precious lover to keep him company.

if you did find yourself falling asleep satoru would mumble your name or gently scratch your scalp, though if you were genuinely exhausted he would let you sleep.

when you did end up falling asleep he would try and maneuver the both of you under the covers, the added layer keeping you cozy, and being in satorus arms even more so.

other times satoru would try and coax you into taking a quick shower or bath, especially if you both went a bit rougher. all he wanted was the make you feel safe and comfortable and he would always try his hardest to do so.

sometimes the showers consist of satoru lazily holding you against his or vice versa, simply basking in the warm water and each others bodies. did satoru ever mention he loved being close to you?

he does tell you that, a lot actually. but if he didn’t he most definitely would make up by showing it. sometimes when you two take a bath together he’ll let you lay against him, gently massing your shoulders or arms after a long day.

he’ll give you space treatment if you really wanted, anything for you, just say it and he’ll get it.

one part he didn’t like was having to bother or move you so he could wash the sheets, which leads to him not cleaning them just to keep you comfy.

sometimes he would have you sit in the warm tub while he washed the blankets and took care of everything. he wanted to make sure you came back to a clean and fresh pair of covers.

he gave you royal treatment and he knows what that means because he was treated like a king his whole life. though he definitely did much better than that, he gave you all the love and attention you could need tenfold.

when all was said and done the two of you normally got cuddled up under the freshly washed blankets of your shared (king sized) bed, after having taken a nice hot shower or bath of course.

the two of you would hold each other close the entirety of the night, not letting go for a second, and you better hope you don’t have to pee in the middle of the night because you’re not getting out his grasp.

all in all during intimacy and the aftermath and he would take care of you the best he could. after all your the only person whose ever made him feel this way before. it was weird to care so much about one person, he didn’t know how to feel.

he tries his best and will continue to for as long as you two live (yes live, because you’re not breaking up ever.) satoru will do anything and everything for you because he loves you.

he loves you more than anything in the world and couldn’t imagine life without you, so for the rest of his life he will do everything in his power to appeal to you.

of course you tell him he doesn’t need to do all of that but he insists and who are you to say to the satoru gojo?

—

not proof read, im tired and it’s 3am! :P

[carnalcrows]

SUB JJK HEADCANNONS !!

content warnings: 18+, twt links (you need a twitter account to open the links), unspecified sexual activity, the links are pretty inaccurate, since the bottom is much smaller, but oh well lol, intentional lower case

sukuna initially doesn't seem like the type to be submissive, but oh, how wrong you were. this man YEARNS. he has so much to do in his everyday routine, do you expect him to be in charge even in bed? god no- it's almost pitiful, the way he sucks your cock, looking up at you doe-eyed as you sit on his throne. (might make a fully-fledged fic of this haha)

higuruma is a very pent-up man, it doesn't matter how he relieves his stress, even if it means that you have to be balls deep inside him. hours and hours of working on cases do take a toll, all you wanna do is help your dear husband out <33

nanami is a workaholic. im not even exaggerating, this man has almost never taken a break his ENTIRE life. you decide to change that by practically tying him up to your shared bed one evening and having your way with him. his legs are shaking by the time you two are finished, but it is so worth it.

geto is skeptical at first, one of those monkeys want to fuck him? ha, the nerve. fast forward to 5 minutes later and you're holding this man in a mating press and fucking his brains out. taunts slip from your mouth, turning him on even more. "what's that, slut? letting yourself get fucked by a mere human? i didn't take you for a common whore." the man whines at the degradation, but he doesn't stop you, i don't think he can!

gojo doesn't even hesitate when you bring it up lol, this man is IMMEDIATELY on his knees for you. imagine holding him up, facing a mirror as you pound into him from behind. his mind is high on your cock and his ego, he looks so pretty in that goddamn mirror, that he won't stop yapping about it, even as you use his ruined hole. the problem is that he is such a brat, you just gotta fuck the attitude outta him.

toji does it for the money. it's as simple as that. he finished a bounty for you, and you asked him of this for an extra price. who in the right mind would say no? imagine him riding you, hands on your shoulders as your cock pistons in and out of his hole. even if he is the one getting fucked, it doesn't seem like it. he likes to be in charge if possible.

choso MY BABYYY!!! god he is so obedient, always listening to whatever you say. his body complies too, back arching to its limit as you pound into him, holding his knees at his shoulders. tears hold so prettily in his eyes as you kiss them away. he just wants to be good for you <3

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[sanjisboyfie]

pre : sensitive

jjk x male reader

+ a/n at the end !!

[name] was a stain in his family’s lineage. their legendary clan was knocked out of their priority position all because of his birth. his family was interesting. they had a unique innate ability that was not desired for any of their kin to inherit. reason being: it was all based on emotion, the technique was all based on emotion.

and having emotions as a jujutsu sorcerer?

looked down upon, it was a disgrace.

for the most part, his clan lucked out with all of their offspring repressing this “useless” cursed technique.

of course, except for [name].

the thing that was supposed to make him, “strong,” only furthered his status in the world as being unimportant and nothing but a burden to his family members.

and he knew this, has been aware of it since birth. he lives with his ability that makes it hard for him to properly balance his emotions. or rather, the ability that made him bring unbalance to his mind — all for it to try and serve for something and be useful to some capacity.

he was isolated from his family and the rest of jujutsu society. especially when his birth year coincided with a certain gojo clan’s newborn.

that gojo clan bitch, were his first thoughts on the boy that was the same age as him.

the boy who easily tilted the balance of the world. a stunning ability that granted gojo satoru with the ability to practically be invincible. as if [name]’s birth wasn’t a mark of stress for himself, now he had another, more powerful person to hold it over his head.

“wow! i didn’t know you were gonna actually enroll in jujutsu high!” gojo’s voice taunted [name] as the two crossed paths at the entrance of the school. “with an ability like yours, i definitely would’ve opted out to just a normal high school. i mean, what good are you gonna be for us here?”

“you gojo clan bitch! i’ll gut you! and smear your organs on your estate walls to taunt the rest of you useless, stuck up family!” [name] shouted in anger, pointing his finger into gojo’s chest. meanwhile, the teenager he was threatening merely grinned down at him as if he were some cute stray kitten.

“that spark in your eyes is real impressive to see up close,” gojo leaned close to [name]’s face, smirking when he noticed the way [name] flinched backwards, “too bad it doesn’t mean shit when time comes to actually prove yourself,”

[name] sneered, a burst of tears rushing to his eyes. and just as gojo was going to jest about his obvious showing of emotions, an authoratative voice broke them out of their fight.

“really? class hasn’t even started and the two of you are bringing in your emotional baggage onto the school grounds,”

professor yaga’s figure shadowed over them and he had his burly arms crossed over his chest. [name] gulped in fear whilst gojo only continued on smirking like the arrogant man he is.

“yaga-sensei! good to see you’ve crawled out of that depressing dark room of yours! that’s quite hospitable of you, greeting your students on their first day of school,”

yaga’s eyebrow twitched in aggravation, but unlike [name], he was better at quelling down his annoyance and ignoring gojo’s teasing remarks, “well, won’t you be pleased to know that the world does not revolve around you-”

“oh, but it does~”

“and that there are more first years than just the two of you,”

gojo’s face turned into one of surprise rather quickly, the smug smirk on his face being wiped off in an instant.

“actually, there’s one right now,”

[name] looked over his shoulder and saw a petite figure walking towards them. her chocolate hair was cut in a short bob and he admired her natural beauty, even from afar he was quite taken with her appearance. and then she looked up and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest at the way her dulls eyes pierced right through his person.

“shoko ieiri, i presume?” yaga asked once she was close enough to be in ear shot.

she hummed in confirmation, looking between the three men in front of her. her eyes lingered on [name] for a fraction of a second longer, smiling gently in his direction, before she looked back up at the teacher, “are you the one in charge of us, old man?”

a twitch of his eyebrow once again.

“if you’re asking if i will be your teacher this year, then yes, i will be,” he answered briskly.

she made a sound of interest and stepped closer tot eh entrance way, “is there a reason we are all standing here? you all looked kind of stupid from far away,” she said, making [name] crack a smile.

“there is only one more that should be arriving, i think it’d be best we all gathered together and walked to the classroom as one so no one gets lost…or misplaced,”

shoko didn’t respond, only looking in between gojo and [name]. it was as if she was contemplating who to talk to. when she finally decided on the h/c haired boy, she poked his shoulder to knock him out of his daydream, “is your mouth always open and waiting to catch flies, or is that just a right now thing?”

[name] shut his mouth and swallowed thickly, trying to keep calm with the way she was analyzing him so closely. now that she was only inches away from his face, he could get a really good look at her features. her sharp nose, her eyes — which were truly enchanting to look at, the mole on her face, and the way her lips look just recently moisturized by some sort of lip balm.

oh, god, [name] thought to himself, i can’t be surrounded by someone as beautiful as this on a daily basis — there’s no way i’ll survive!

“hello, earth to you? anyone home?” she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze.

and it seemed to work, but the first thing he blurted out was what he was thinking in his head, which (embarassingly) was, “i think i’m in love with…you,”

a sputtered laugh, a hum of surprise, and a pissed of “hah” echoed in the air. and lastly, a swift expression of, “well, isn’t that quite the greeting to have on the first day of school,” all resounded in the air after [name]’s sudden confession.

that comment was thanks to the newcomer with long raven hair, standing beside satoru with a laxed smile on his face. he nodded in greeting in [name]’s direction, making the man only more red from embrassment that someone else had to hear that pathetic confession.

gojo satoru, shoko ieiri, getou suguru, and [name] koizumi were all welcomed on their first day of school by professor yaga and would then spend the next couple of years of their lives together as students at jujutsu high.

-> next

-

okay guys, the idea is this is a very much not serious (it is serious) and less formal formatted fanfiction i wanna be publishing. i have had this in my drafts for a while (i'm talking sitting in my notion page for over a year type shit) and realized that the best way to do it, or story-tell it, would be in a "chaotic" and unorganized fashion.

that being said idk how consistent updates for this is gonna be. because i want a whole good chunk of this to be dedicated pre-starplasma vessel thing that literally sent my beautiful children satoru, suguru, and shoko SPIRALLING.

this is gonna be a very wholesome....(hopefully)....fanfiction and im so excited to finally be publishing it (after a LOT of overthinking of what to do with it).

<3

stay tuned ! or don't !

[starboye]

JJK P*RN LINKS

toji sending you a video while you're at work

porn addict!choso's way of telling you good morning

nanami likes to send you videos of him after his workouts

idk i just feel like gojo would send you this if he was bored

nanami after a rough day

geto and gojo making sure you got home safe

slutting toji out for fun

porn addict!choso begging you to come over

nanami shows no mercy when he's drunk

you and choso spending the night in

toji making sure you remember every inch of him

uh oh gojo 'accidentally' sent you that

sukuna plans on getting you pregnant with his babies

toji showing you how much he misses your holes

sukuna opening your throat up nice and wide

all toji can think about doing when he gets home to you

worshiping sukuna cock

toji likes it messy

the first the porn addict!choso does when he wakes up

ask gojo and you shall receive

choso after you sent him those pics of you looking all cute

nanami can only get hard if he thinks about you

gojo after you called him a good boy

toji rubbing one out for you

toji loves the feeling of your mouth wrapped around him

gojo sending you his daily jerk off video

choso being your good boy

toji teasing you

nanami likes seeing you all subby for him

late night with a horny toji

gojo trying out the toy you got for him

sukuna loves your puppy eyes while sucking his dick

just such a slut for tojis cock huh

sukuna giving you what you've been begging so much for

[burgojo]

PRIMADONNA. GOJO SATORU / M!READER

summary. the easiest way to a man's heart is through his stomach – in more than one way.

wc. 9k

tags. smut | dom top reader, sub bottom gojo, husbands gojo/reader, teacher reader. anniversary sex, "sir" for reader + "puppy" for gojo, oral (r. receiving), praise + degradation (gojo receiving), humping, riding, light s/m, bondage (wrists), overstimulation + multiple orgasms (gojo), belly bulge + size kink, crying, off-screen gojo in lingerie

"Satoru."

You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

"If I don't get delayed, I'll be returning at night after my mission. It's a long plane ride back, so don't stay up for me, alright?"

Satoru was miffed, to say the least. How dare they steal away his husband on such short notice? You barely had time to pack a suitcase. And worst of all? It coincided with your anniversary.

For the first time in ten years, he would be spending that day alone. He wanted to be angry – angry at those spineless geezers cooped up in that musty room – but all he could really feel was disappointment. You'd been an anchor for so long that he felt listless without you by his side, throwing the weight of your name behind his whenever he did something he thought was right.

Whatever. At least he woke up to a 'happy anniversary' voice message from you that morning.

"An exponential is a function of the form f of x equals a to the power of x, where a cannot equal one, zero, or anything less than zero. You'll want to note down these eight laws on the board. I'd recommend putting them in a table at the top of a page so you don't have to go flipping for them in exams. I'll go through them one at a time."

Satoru drops the white stick of chalk for a pale blue one, which he then uses to scrawl a line of numbers in a blank space on the left side of the blackboard. "So – a to the x, a to the y equals a to the x plus y. This is a biggie! You'll see it a lot. When bases a are the same and the terms are multiplied, the exponents are added. Added. Don't multiply them."

"Sensei!" Yuji's hand shoots up into the air. "Why aren't they multiplied?"

"Great question!" He glances over the board, then erases a large chunk of old numbers in one fell swoop. Nobara stops writing immediately with an odd expression and Satoru laughs, waving a hand as if to dissipate her troubles. "You can copy off Megumi's notes for that example, Kugisaki. Just leave a space for it."

He continues, "Now, Yuji, we remember that an exponential is multiplying the base by itself a certain number of times, yes? Let's use two raised to the power of three. That's two times two times two. Now, if you have two to the power of four, that's two by two by two by two. Phew, what a mouthful. Are we tracking?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! We'll multiply these terms now. Wait!" He raises a finger and splits the two strings of numbers into two sets of brackets. "Putting these brackets here to separate the terms for clarity... Anyway – because the base number, two, is being multiplied over and over—" He slashes a little multiplication sign between the two brackets. "Ta-da! You've got two multiplied by itself seven times, so the answer is two to the power of seven. Therefore, you can skip this whole process in your written answers and just add the powers! Yay!"

"That's crazy."

"When it clicks, it clicks, right?" Satoru snaps his fingers, and to Yuji's left, Megumi snaps out of staring out of the window. "No slacking, Megumi! I can see you daydreaming over there."

"Kinda hard not to with only three students," Nobara mutters under her breath. At least when she dozes off, it's not with her head turned ninety degrees and propped on a fist. Seriously – it's like Megumi never learnt to nap discreetly at the back of the class. Come to think of it, she's certain he's never hidden earbuds under his hair, either.

"Sorry," he murmurs nonchalantly. "I'm not a maths person."

"Megumi, you're tearing me apart."

He shrugs.

"Since what you're doing is obviously more important than listening to your awesome teacher, would you like to share with the class?" Satoru drawls with a shit-eating grin. He sets the chalk aside, dusting off his hands, and leans over his desk, hands flat and forming a triangle with his thumbs and forefingers. "Is there a girl, Megumi-chan? A boy? Ah, a teenager's first love – I still remember mine as if it were yesterday..."

"Cut it out, you're not that old." Megumi glances outside again. Satoru follows his line of sight, but nothing stands out to him. "There was a guy on campus. Looked like a weirdo."

"Oh, for the love of – do you not remember what a finger to the lips means?"

Behind his blindfold, Satoru's eyes shoot open. It's uncomfortable, but so is his face-splitting smile, so wide it hurts his jaw.

None of that matters. He explodes with joy.

"Baby!" he squeals. He launches himself with the speed of a fastball at the person standing in the doorway. It's a miracle nobody goes crashing through the opposite wall.

"You're back, you're back," Satoru coos, burying his face in your shoulder and squeezing your middle so tightly that your spine pops. "Oh, man, you have no idea how much I missed you!"

You laugh, a little wheezy from having the air knocked out of your lungs, and pat his back. A ring glints on your finger. He presses himself deeper into you and you have to brace to stop yourself from toppling over. You close your eyes and inhale the soft floral scent of his hair, which draws out all the tension in your body. Lord knows you've accumulated a lot of it recently.

"There, there," you hum, gently grasping the back of his neck to peel him off you. For the first time, you get a good look at him. He hangs from the nape of his jacket like a kitten, a big dumb grin on his face. His pale cheeks are flushed, and your heart races a little from his sheer excitement. It's flattering.

What a sweetheart.

"We can talk later," you murmur with a smile, setting him down on flat feet. "Just wanted to stop by to drop off your lunch."

He glances down at the lunchbox-sized insulated bag in your hand. He accepts it gently, cradling it like gold. "My lunch...?"

"Mm, that's right. I hate to imagine how you fared without me." You slip a hand into the pocket of your pants. "I'll cook tonight, okay? Anyway, that's all. Toodle-oo."

"Wait!" Yuji slams his hands against his desk as his chair screeches against the ground. "Did I hear that right? Did sensei call you 'baby'?"

"Yes," you say, and Satoru's heart flutters at the pride in your voice. "You must be Itadori Yuji, and you must be Kugisaki Nobara. Satoru spoke of you often. Nice to finally meet you – I'm Satoru's husband."

Nobara replies in kind with a little bow and a polite greeting. Megumi's the only one still sitting, sheltering his eyes with his hand as if he can hide from the inevitable embarrassment. She turns to Satoru with an accusing glare, her hands on her hips. "No way you scored a guy like that with your personality! What'd you do, huh? Promise him money?"

"He hasn't even introduced himself yet and you're already taking his side?" Satoru whines, both of his arms wrapped around your own.

"I can tell that he's a respectable and dutiful man. You, however..."

"I mean, opposites attract, right?" Yuji offers kindly.

"Yuji! Are you saying I'm not a respectable person?" He huffs. "I'm telling Suguru to work you guys twice as hard tomorrow morning. Ridiculous..."

Nobara jabs an accusing finger at him. "You're ridiculous. Which is why I'm so shocked that anyone with any sense would marry you."

"Thrice as hard."

"Easy," you murmur to Satoru fondly. "But he's right about one thing. I haven't introduced myself properly. My name is YN Gojo-LN. You'll have me as a teacher next year. Call me LN-sensei – helps avoid the confusion."

Satoru tugs on your sleeve with a pout. "C'mon... I like it when you use my name. They're not gonna get confused by it. After all, I am the prettier one."

"Hard disagree, sensei," Nobara says flatly.

You smile as Satoru presses himself further into your side, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry, darling. You're plenty good-looking to me."

"You think so?"

"I know so, my beautiful little lily," you say affectionately, pinching his cheek. He holds your hand to his cheek, leaning into it, and Nobara nearly gags at the dopey expression on Satoru's face and the way his leg kicks up behind him like a schoolgirl with a crush. She glances at Megumi with disbelief written on her face and jabs a thumb over her shoulder. He nods solemnly as you coo over Satoru, your voice light and bouncy like a summer breeze.

You turn your attention back to the three first-years, all looking far more attentive after their break from staring at slanting strings of numbers. "It was lovely to meet you – and good to see you, too, Megumi, I can see you slouching there – but Satoru is only one-out-of-eight exponential laws explained. I'm not about to be the cause of bad grades. Ciao, everyone."

Reluctantly, Satoru unfolds himself from around you, and you're quite surprised. You'd think he'd fight harder to keep—

He seizes your wrist in a steely grip and drags you out into the hall. He shuts the door on his students' exclamations.

Immediately, he collapses into your chest, rather more raw and vulnerable than earlier. You wrap your arms around him and coo into his ear, cupping the back of his neck. He sighs, short and sharp and a little shaky, and his breath puffs against your collarbone.

"I was worried I'd lose you," he whispers, hands gliding all over your body as if to prove to himself that you're all still there, warm and complete and ready to embrace him. "Those damn idiots, taking you from me. Especially at a time like this..."

"Relax, dearie," you hum, and the old nickname makes his lips twitch upwards. "I was your equal for a while. I won't keel over so easily."

"You took on two special grades at once and went in ill-prepared because they couldn't do their damn jobs. How am I supposed to trust them when they can't even count to two?"

"Then trust me," you implore, cupping his cheek. He's always been thin, but you're glad you're back. Maybe he'll be less cranky with some meat in his stomach. "Always said we'd get through this together, didn't we? That includes dealing with the elders. I've got your back, but let's not make problems now – not when we have Yuji to look after."

He sighs and pushes his cheek into your shoulder a little harder, rubbing his face into you like a cat. His hair tickles your cheek. His grip tightens, then loosens. "Ugh. You're crampin' my style. Rebellion suits me."

"Obedience suits you better," you murmur lowly, and Satoru shivers at the timbre of your voice. Your hand slips down to cup his chin, lifting his face to yours. His breath hitches. "Listen to me, Satoru. You know I'm right."

He exhales shakily as you dip your head, lips brushing his. He leans into it, trying to take more, but you turn away. "But—"

"Satoru."

Heat zings up his spine. Your nails dig slightly into his skin and he swallows harshly, burning up under the weight of your gaze. Half condescending and half tender, you rake your stare over him from head to toe. It lasts no longer than a second but Satoru's knees weaken anyway.

"Just don't do anything without me," you whisper, bringing his face closer to yours. You press your lips to his and he fists the front of your shirt tightly, gasping as your free hand glides down his waist to rest on the small of his back. He arches slightly and tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

He tastes like sugar and oranges and despite the not-so-sweet flavour of the coffee you had earlier, he devours you as if his life depends on it, tongue twisting with yours. He moans softly at the smoky roasted taste, dark and rich. Even after all these years, he marvels at how perfectly he matches with you – the yin to your yang, the shrike to your thorn. He'd be missing out any other way.

His heartbeat quickens. You can feel it beneath his ribs, his chest pressed to yours, and even through his thick clothes you can feel him yearn for you – the very essence of his bright soul twists and tumbles, reaching for yours. He is the orchid to your oak and just as needy.

Before you forget yourself and get too handsy in the middle of the school hallway, you draw away, tugging your hands back to your sides. Satoru whines softly with the loss of your touch and your lips on his. He lifts his face, lips pursed into a pout as he chases another kiss. You press a finger against his lips with a chuckle.

"Not yet, Satoru. You still haven't promised me."

He pushes your hand away impatiently. "Promise." He puckers up and leans in again.

You click your tongue and grab a fistful of his hair, keeping him at bay the same way you would with an overly-affectionate cat. You lift a brow. "And what are you promising?"

He groans, and you know he's rolling his eyes under his blindfold. "That I'm not gonna make trouble for us. I promise I won't square up against a bunch of geriatrics. Happy, baby? Can I get my kiss, now?"

"Only one more." You dip in, and Satoru hums appreciatively. You open your eyes again with a tiny smile. "There. Now, off you go. You have maths to teach, nerd."

"You're a nerd," he rebuts automatically. "You don't have to leave, y'know. Just sit in the back, like the principal does."

"I'd just be a distraction for you."

"But you'd make me happy. Come on. It's our anniversary."

"The answer's no, Satoru." You smile, tugging his hair gently, and his head feels light. He understands why they call it lovesick. "G'luck, sweetheart."

His bottom lip juts out and he crosses his arms, glancing aside. He ruffles his hair roughly as if to drag himself out of his own thoughts. "Fine... Will I see you later?"

"Mm. I'll take a nap when I get home and then start on dinner. I was thinking something Thai?" You touch his shoulder and he shivers slightly, fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist. It's endearing how infatuated he is with you. You fix his blindfold, smoothing out the sides. "Get home safely, Satoru."

"Yessir." He darts in one last time, sneaking in one last kiss on the cheek. He grins, playful and flushed, as you grumble something about being an 'enabler'. You lift a hand and begin to turn away.

When you're halfway down the hall, he calls out, "You better make it up to me, hot stuff!"

"You're spoilt enough as it is," you call back, eyes crinkling. "Toodles!"

Satoru hums a little tune under his breath as he steps back into the classroom, sliding the door closed behind him. There's a bounce in his step as he moves towards his desk, hovering over a textbook and flipping forward a few pages to find new equations to throw up on the board.

After a pause, with Satoru's soft humming the only thing filling the room, Nobara finally breaks the silence.

"So, sensei... are you gonna tell us what that was all about?"

He glances up, a clueless smile on his face. "Eh? What was what about?"

She stares, appalled. "Uh, the fact that you're married? To the coolest-looking guy I've seen here? He must really be something if he's got you wrapped around his finger like that..."

Megumi sits up in his seat, picking up his pen and ruler and busying himself with ruling new margins into his blank pages. "He's not much better than Gojo, Kugisaki. Together, they're both total fools."

"How can he be more of a fool than he already is?"

"You never mentioned a partner, Gojo-sensei," Yuji says, having clearly abandoned any notion of learning. His notebook isn't even open anymore. "How'd you meet?"

"I didn't take you for a romantic, Yuji," Satoru coos, though he tosses his piece of chalk onto the blackboard's ledge and dusts off his hands. He circles the desk to sit back against it, clasping his hands with a wide smile. "We met here, actually! He's older than me, and he was the one who gave me a campus tour and showed me my room. He was just as handsome back then as he is now. I liked hanging out with him a lot."

Yuji's eyes are wide with intrigue. "Oh! Were you high-school sweethearts? That's so neat, sensei!"

"In a way," he replies, voice soft with fondness. "At first, it was a political marriage. He has an influential name and a uniquely powerful technique, so our families thought it was a good idea to pair us up so the other clans would be less likely to stand against our decisions. We became good friends, so we grew to be alright with it – we were basically already living in each other's rooms, anyway. Marrying him meant I could eat his curry more often, so I was honestly pretty eager to move in with him after graduating."

"Really? You seemed like the type of person to be bad with spice," Nobara comments, tilting her chair on its back legs. "Guess I was wrong."

Leaning back, Megumi speaks around Yuji's body. "No, he is. LN-san often makes two dishes – one with spice, one without. He started when I was a kid, but he still does it for Gojo."

Nobara clicks her tongue. "What? Seriously – he's way too good for you, sensei! I can't believe this. The idea that someone like you had a boyfriend at my age when I don't... I'm, like, actually upset."

"I mean, I also gained two children shortly after, so maybe you should wait a bit for a boyfriend, Kugisaki," Satoru says thoughtfully, tapping his chin. Megumi's face reddens at the statement and his knuckles turn white around his pen.

"Don't say that," he scoffs. "Your marriage had nothing to do with the two of us!"

Pouting, Satoru wags a finger in his direction. "So rude, Megumi-chan! I'm telling your dad. No curry for you for a month."

He rolls his eyes and his mouth curls. "You're annoying."

Nobara snorts and hides her snickers behind her palm. She leans in Yuji's direction and whispers, "Guess he's got a favourite parent."

He nods in agreement. Clearing his throat, Yuji dutifully raises his hand, looking grave. "Sensei, if you're married, why don't you wear a ring?"

"Hm? I do! Wanna see it? Oh, of course you do, you asked," he says cheerfully. He thrusts a hand down the tall neck of his collar and pulls out a silver chain, off of which hangs a platinum band studded with tiny, glittering diamonds. He beams, turning the pretty little thing this way and that to catch the light. "His is more traditional, 'cause he's a fuddy-duddy, but silver suits my skin tone better and diamonds are a classic."

He unclasps the chain from around his neck, and Yuji and Nobara instantly shoot up out of their chairs to inspect the ring closer. They ooh and ahh over it, discussing the bevels and facets and whatnot. He slips the band onto his left hand and shows it off with a beaming smile, nodding proudly when Nobara remarks how well it really does suit him.

"Why is your face so red, Gojo?"

The abrupt question is Megumi's. Like clockwork, everyone turns to him, then turns to Satoru. In response, he only tilts his head with an oblivious smile pasted on his face – his white hair flops over, like a dog's ears. "Eh?"

Megumi sighs and lowers his gaze, scratching tornadoes aimlessly into the margins of his page. "You're terrible – it was two months, not two years. The separation anxiety is crazy."

"He does seem like the type to be clingy," Nobara whispers to Yuji.

"It's not sepa—he thinks it's cute!" he sputters, lifting his bejewelled ring finger as if it's his middle finger. "Look – he married me for it! Jeez, Megumi, you really know how to make a guy feel bad. And you know what that means."

Megumi's face scrunches. "You're gonna follow him around the house like a lost puppy for the rest of the day."

"Right you are!" says Satoru giddily. "I'm sorta disappointed you don't live with us right now. I could've made it so much worse for you if you and YN went out in public. You'd be begging to learn about exponential and logarithmic functions then."

He turns towards the board and claps his hands, startling all three of his students as the sound echoes through the room. "Speaking of! Rule number two: power x over y with identical base a is equal to a to the x minus y. Back in your seats, boys and girl – I hope everyone's awake now. Let's power through every rule before class ends! Heh – geddit? Power? Because – oh, you're all no fun. I'm funny. Let's continue."

—

With a jingle of keys, Satoru twirls through the front door. "Honey, I'm hooome!"

Your voice floats through the hallway. "In the kitchen!"

He kicks his shoes off and dumps his messenger bag onto the couch. He bounds into the spacious kitchen and slithers up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

With a chuckle, you take half a step back from the open flame of the stove. "Careful. It's hot."

"Not hotter than you." His voice is muffled against your shoulder. "Didja miss me?"

"Only a little bit. You are a handful." You stir the pot, picking shards of bone out of the broth. Satoru salivates. He can already feel the tender meat falling off the bone. "You're home early, baby. Dinner won't be ready for a while."

"Rushed back to see you." He kisses your neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of your cologne is heady and woodsy, and he's embarrassed to admit that he's used it on himself when the ache really got to him. "Maybe we can... spend some time together...?"

You laugh, the sound rumbling through your chest, and Satoru smiles automatically. "Eager little thing. You really want to do that now, when I'm obviously very busy?"

"Well, the veggies aren't a pressing concern," he points at the covered bowl, "and the soup's not done. Put it on low and you have both hands free to do things with me."

"And what 'things' would that entail, Satoru?"

"Fun things." He pushes his blindfold up, revealing his startling blue eyes. He looks up at you through his white lashes, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. "Things involving this," he points at his lips, "and this." He points at yours.

Because your hands are damp from dealing with the vegetables, you can't touch him, but you turn and lean in his direction and he drapes his arms over your shoulders. You hum, taking in his beauty like an old-timey knight with his secret lover. "Sounds a bit boring, honestly. We did that earlier. Any other ideas?"

His eyes widen with betrayal. "What—? Fine! This—" his lips "—and this." His hand lowers to the zip of your jeans, brushing over the front. His tongue flickers over his lower lip as he glances down, as if he's imagining it already, and you struggle to keep your composure. His eyes lift to yours. "Yeah?"

You draw in a breath. "Nah. You don't last long enough for that."

"Mou," he whines, brows furrowing, "I can! Just let me show you – y'know, I've been practicing. I've definitely gotten better."

"Whore," you mutter affectionately, slipping out of his arms to wash your hands. You tug your sleeves higher and Satoru sighs dreamily at the sight, cupping his cheek. "You seriously want to do this now? I could burn down the house on accident."

"Yes, I wanna do it now," he huffs, hooking a slender finger beneath his blindfold, as if showing off how long and pretty they are. "The house is insured."

"You – You're ridiculous, baby." You dry your hands and face him properly, gaze flickering over his body. He squirms slightly, fidgeting with his collar. "Hm... Suppose I say yes. What would you do?"

"Ah," he breathes, stepping closer. He places his hands on your chest, pretending to fix your collared shirt, and you rest one on his hip, tugging him in. He flashes you a flustered smile as he bumps into you. "Well, I'd, um – I'd kiss it."

"Mm."

"And I'd... lick the tip, 'nd..." He shakes his head and headbutts your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut with an embarrassed titter. "Babe, don't make me say it! I'll show you, okay? I'll show you how much I missed you. Spoilers: it's a lot."

"Well, when you put it like that..." You dial down the stovetop's heat until the flame is all but gone. Satoru's grin widens. "I'm interested."

He smirks and pecks your cheek, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the kitchen. He pushes you down on the couch in the living room, taking a moment to shuck off his jacket and tug his shirt hem out from his beltline. He drapes himself over your lap, long legs bracketing yours, and places his hands on your shoulders.

Naturally, your hands come to rest upon his thighs.

He pauses. Have your hands always looked so large compared to him...? He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. His cock stirs in his tight pants.

You lean back with a soft sigh, stroking his thighs absently. Your touch borders on his ass when it shifts up his hips and his breath hitches. You lift a brow, seemingly unaware of his racing heart. "So? Now what?"

"Shut up," he mumbles, reaching to help pull your t-shirt over your head. "Just admiring my hubby, y'know? Most would be flattered. You're mean for no reason."

"A second ago you were ready to jump my bones." You allow him to toss the shirt on the couch beside you, and his hands run appreciatively down your chest and stomach. "Let's go back to that."

"Yessir," he says breathily. He meant it teasingly, but it comes out with a slight tremor in the middle. His cheeks flush as you grab the front of his shirt and drag him towards you.

He whimpers softly as you press his ass down against your lap, his lips trapped against yours. He rocks his hips. The half-hard bulge in your pants demands his attention, and he moans your name as you pop open his shirt roughly, hands exploring his soft, smooth skin.

"Excited, are we?" you murmur, nibbling the side of his neck. The wet heat of your tongue makes him shiver, nails digging into your shoulders.

"S-Says you," he retorts, gasping softly as your callused fingers find his nipples, cute and pink. He jerks, stomach tensing, and reaches for your belt shakily, undoing it defiantly. "Not f-fair. Fuck, be gentle..."

You shake your head, exhaling softly as Satoru manages to fish you out of your open fly. Your length slaps his wrist. "We can be gentle or we can be done in time for dinner. Your choice."

Twitching as you flick his chest again, he whimpers. "You..."

"I?"

He gulps, blue eyes trained on the thick cock in his hands. He grips the base and twists his fist up and down the shaft, brushing his thumb over the slick slit. You groan softly, switching your attention to the other side of his neck. He tilts his head with a tremulous sigh, allowing you better access to his fair skin.

"I really did miss you, you know," he says quietly, stroking you to full mast. "Your smile, your body next to mine when I wake up... and this cock. Nothing's better than your cock."

With a chuckle, you squeeze his hips, feeling them twitch under your grip. Cute – sensitive. "Yeah? My pretty doll missed my cock?"

"Mhm. Tried other things while you were away." He shuffles off your lap, sliding between your knees with ease. He gazes up at you, one hand on your thigh and one hand on your cock, and licks his lips, glancing away. His cheeks are red. "But nothing can get me off like you can. You always fill me up so good, always treat me right..."

He leans forward, wrapping his pink lips around the head of your cock. His eyes flutter shut and his tongue swirls around your slit – the taste of your precome curls a ball of arousal in his lower belly, and he widens his knees slightly in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn't help.

"Fuck, Satoru," you murmur, combing your fingers through his silver hair. His blindfold acts as a headband for his bangs, and you're afforded a full view of his creased concentrated brows and his wide-blown pupils. He bobs his head, thick lashes fluttering against his cheekbones, and swallows several inches of your cock.

But that's as far as he gets before he gags and pulls back, gasping wetly as his pale chest heaves. Nervously, he glances up at you, only to grow more desperate at the lazy grin on your face.

You prop your cheek on a fist. "What was that about improvement, Satoru? Seems about the same to me."

His frown deepens. "It's not my fault! You're just—"

"Excuses don't befit you."

His jaw snaps shut audibly. He reaches forward, taking your cock in both hands, and spits on it, smearing it down your length. You hum softly as he takes the tip into his hot mouth again, and his tongue flicks against the glans hungrily.

His nails dig into your thigh as he regulates his breathing, slowly bobbing his head down half of your length.

You have to hand it to him – he's gotten quicker at getting to this point. Still, he's shuddering, and he's clearly a mess, eyes glistening and lips slick with saliva. He looks small, shoulders pulled in, and so, so pretty as he chokes down your cock, determined to do it right.

"Oh, Satoru," you purr sympathetically, petting his hair. "Nearly thirty and you still can't suck cock to save your life... what'll I do with you?"

He pulls back with a slick pop, eyes wide and glossy. His voice is hoarse. "N-No, I can! I can, I promise, j-just let me try again—"

"You're my good boy, aren't you?"

The words die in his mouth. Head foggy, he nods, throat bobbing as he stares up at you.

You stroke his cheek, smiling softly as he leans into it and kisses your palm. "Let me fuck your mouth. Maybe your toys are just too small to be of any real help, huh?"

Ashamed, Satoru swallows, picking at his shirt cuffs. He inclines his head a few degrees, barely a nod, but he allows you to gently guide his mouth around your cock once more. He wanted to show you how much he loved you, how you wouldn't have to do all the work anymore, but there was something so addicting about the way you controlled his body that he was a little glad to have failed. His eyes slide closed as you grip the back of his neck and hold back his bangs, guiding your cock down his throat.

He moans softly, his own dick throbbing inside his pants as you hit the back of his throat. He swallows around it dutifully, grasping your thighs for balance as you pull him down on your cock.

"Good boy. That's it. Such a good boy f'me." Your voice is a low murmur, flowing in one ear and out the other. Satoru whines quietly, the vibrations making you groan, and saliva drips down your shaft. You lean back and lift your hips slightly, pushing into his mouth.

He gags slightly but settles quickly, tongue gliding against the velvety veins of your dick. Your grip on him is firm but gentle – if you let go, he'd slump like a ragdoll against your leg, no doubt about it. He rocks his hips pathetically against nothing, whimpering as you fuck his throat, and you take pity – you shift your leg between his knees.

He fists your jeans, knuckles white, and moans as he grinds against your leg, his cock throbbing against his zipper. His whimpers sound broken, choppy, in a way you recognise as gratefulness. Thank you, thank you. Your dick pulses and he swallows, drooling and panting with his lips stretched white around you. He swallows greedily around you, the shape of your cock distending his slender throat.

"It's okay," you hum, brushing the tears from the corner of his eye. "You don't need to do anything. Not when I'm here. You just need to be my pretty puppy, yeah? Let me take care of everything. I got you."

A rough shudder runs through his body. He shoves his cock against your leg. He twitches, hips jerking involuntarily, and you can't help the fondness in your voice when you coo at him.

"Oh, sweetheart..."

Carefully, you pull him off of you, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he pants, eyes clouded and hazy. His grasp on your leg tightens as you lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Poor thing. Must be pretty pent up, huh?" You pull him up, and it takes a moment for him to find his balance. You tug his slacks down his hips, but the square something in his back pocket gives you pause. You dip two fingers inside and pull out a black packet.

"Condoms?" You glance up at Satoru, who looks anywhere but at you. "You planned this, didn't you? Dirty puppy."

He wrings his hands, finding his voice. "I-I'm sorry... I just – it's our anniversary, 'n' I thought—"

"You thought you'd be cute," you finish for him, and he nods with a soft pout. You reach in again and pull out another. And another. It's a row of them, separated by perforated tear lines, and his face grows red as you lift a disbelieving brow at them. You let the string of them hang from your fingers like a grocery receipt.

"Satoru... How many of these do you think we need?"

"I don't know! I'd rather be safe than sorry."

You chuckle and lean forward, pressing a kiss against his stomach. He cups the back of your head, slender fingers playing with your hair absently. "You're too cute. Wanna put one on for me?"

"You just like it when I touch you," he mumbles, but accepts the little square. He kicks off his slacks and underwear and takes a seat on your lap, tearing the packet open with his teeth at the same time. His eyes flick up to yours as he slides it down your shaft, his hands warm and pretty wrapped around you. He squeezes – you groan softly – and he whispers, "All done."

"Thank you, baby." You stroke his hips. He giggles in response.

"You can put it in," he murmurs, squeezing your shoulders as he leans forward and aligns your tip with his entrance. "I... Last night..."

"Hm." You watch him rub the tip against his hole – psyching himself up for it, you realise with a smile. "Was that before or after our call?"

His grip tightens. "Ah... After."

"Yeah?" Your smile takes on a dangerous edge and he gulps. "So, when you said you missed me..."

"S-Stop teasing me," he demands, his voice lilting with a whine. His brow furrows and he lowers himself on your cock, gasping as the head breaches his hole. The lube makes the glide easier, but the delicious burn of the stretch has his eyes fluttering and rolling back. The warmth... he's missed this. A toy couldn't have him shaking on his knees on the first thrust. Pain makes tears prick at his eyes. "Ohh, god..."

Satoru braces both hands against your shoulders, his toes curling in his black socks. He whimpers softly as you lean forward, pressing your chests together, in order to ease your cock deeper inside him. He rocks his hips, shallow and jagged, and presses his lips fervently to yours as he drops his hips and takes you all the way down to the base.

Tears prick at his eyes and he moans, long and loose and relieved. Your cock rests perfectly against his prostate, hot and thick, and every minuscule shift of his body has you rubbing deliciously against it. His cock throbs, dusky against his alabaster skin. His stomach flexes.

"Good?" you whisper, hot breath fanning against his throat. He shudders and nods, reaching back and spreading his asscheeks to swallow you deeper. His head falls to your shoulder as he lifts and lowers his hips messily, lips parted to gasp and pant softly.

You take over, hands big and rough on the creamy meat of his ass. There are new calluses on your palms, and a shard of annoyance cuts its way into the pleasured fog of Satoru's mind. Trying to appoint you clan leader through marriage – and therefore safe from the nuisance of arduous missions – had backfired fantastically, and now all those old coots know how much you mean to him.

Like, what was the point of marrying you to each other if you both still had to do the dirty work? Why couldn't he, as the strongest and least likely to complete the paperwork, simply come home to your kisses? You might hate him for making you do all the accounting and logistical work, but at least you'd be safe. He's very good at shoulder massages. The occasional assassin would be like swatting a fly to you.

"Sweetheart," you croon, snapping him out of his stewing displeasure. You grasp his chin in your hand and turn his face to yours, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose. He hums softly. "What's wrong?"

"I want you to be here every day," he whispers, pressing his cheek against yours. "Don't wanna have to make up for lost time like this. Drives me crazy."

"Oh, puppy... I know. But hey," you say, thrusting up into him and making him gasp, "you're hot when you're needy. And I'm all too willing to indulge you."

He clenches down around you. His cock twitches. "Mm, really? We could try using up all those condoms..."

You roll your eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"What does that – ah!"

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as you thrust up roughly into him and drag him down at the same time, his ass slapping your hips. He scrambles to brace himself, his cock dripping a weak spurt of precome on his stomach. His chest heaves, his face flushed and his eyes wide. His eyes are blown with lust, deep ocean-blue, and his lip quivers as you repeat it, fucking up into his soft, eager little hole hungrily.

Satoru pants, breaths rough and uneven, as he tries his best to ride your cock. But with every thrust, you slam against his prostate and knock the thoughts out of his skull. He stutters and moans, trying to repeat himself – because really, what do you mean he's incorrigible? – but you've got a wicked grin on your face that spells nothing but trouble for him.

"W-Wait," he squeaks out, arms trembling as he tries to hold himself up on your chest. "I'll—!"

"Come for me," you grunt, rolling his hips on your cock in a way that has his vision blooming with stars. "Lemme see you, Satoru. Let me see you, puppy."

He lets out a loud, sharp whine as his body jerks and his cock spurts, painting your stomach with thick ropes of white. The flush of his cheeks extends down his neck and chest, prettily pink, and he collapses against your chest, lazily rolling his hips and riding out his high.

Cooing his name softly, you pet his hair, which he melts into like pudding. His hum is like a purr when your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. "Good boy... so gorgeous when you come, aren't you? Did so well for me, sweetheart."

You begin to tug his blindfold down, as the rapid flickering of his eyes betrays how overwhelmed he is, but he shakes his head, nudging your hand to instead pull it off.

"No," he whines, raising his bright, flitting eyes to your face. They steady when they focus on your face, and his features soften. "Wanna see you. All of you." He exhales, a little shaky. "You still haven't finished."

"It'll be too much for you. Let's stop here."

He scowls. "How do you know that?"

"I—"

"Yeah, that's right. You don't. I can keep going." He lifts himself up on his knees until just the tip rests inside him, then drops back down. He swallows a whimper. "S-See? M'fine!"

Your brow furrows slightly as you hold him still. "Satoru—"

"Please," he interrupts, eyes wide and pleading. "Baby, please, I can do it. Want you to come, too, okay? I want to – because I love you."

You didn't think sudden love confessions in the middle of sex could be so hot.

A breathless grin makes its way across his lips when you glance away and sigh, your hands tightening on his waist. It's the perfect place to grab, slim and fitting just right against your palms. He places his hand against your stomach between his legs, arching his back ever so slightly.

"Well," you drawl, shifting slightly. His breath hitches as your cock brushes his prostate. "Then maybe you could show me how much you love me."

"You—" He lets out a bitten moan as you move his hips, helping him grind against you. "Baby."

In response, you only offer a smirk, eyes glinting.

He sighs shakily and nods, leaning back and bracing against your knees. The position tightens him up and you groan, head tipping back against the couch backrest. He traces shallow ovals over your lap, his hole fluttering against you with every tug.

"Feeling unsteady, puppy?" you remark, but it's softer than your usual teasing. You trace his ribs, thumbs brushing over his nipples. He whimpers.

"No," he breathes, quickening his pace. His half-hard cock smacks his stomach with every harsh drop of his hips, the reddened tip dripping and slick. "I got it."

It's hard to act as if the sight doesn't affect you. His lean muscles flex with every shift, and as he sucks in a shuddering breath, a bulge pokes his belly. The print of it appears and disappears with each roll of his hips.

"Fuck," you hiss, gliding your hand down and pressing a thumb against it. Satoru twitches and stutters at the sight, letting out a ruined cry when words fail him. His breath grows ragged as he rides you harder, eyes wet with need. The bulge in his tummy moves with him.

His white hair is dark silver at the ends, stuck to his temples. A thin sheen of sweat coats his body, shimmering when it catches the light. With his milky skin, it's as if he's been brushed with crushed pearls.

You reach up and brush a thumb against his bitten lower lip, plush and warm. He parts them and presses his tongue against the pad of your thumb, moaning as you push it in. He grabs your wrist, nails digging into your skin, and lavishes wet kisses upon it. His tongue swirls around your thumb as if it was your cock and he pants hotly, lips pursing ever-so-slightly around it.

Your cock throbs inside him. The beginnings of a smug grin tug at his pillowy lips, and his eyes flash confidently. They falter and roll back into his skull as you bury your cock inside him with a rough thrust – he melts into your touch, his pretty little cock pulsing and dripping precome down his shaft and balls.

"You're so good to me," you chuckle throatily, pushing your thumb deeper into his mouth. He moans sharply. The whiplash between your warm, caressing palm and the violence with which you fuck him makes him downright dizzy. "Maybe I should take long business trips more often."

At that, he lets out a wrecked little sob, shaking his head. He leans deeper into you.

"No?" He shakes his head again, cerulean eyes clouded and unfocussed as you force his hips up and down from tip to base, knocking the breath out of his lungs. "Oh, sweet thing..."

His legs quiver. He's barely holding himself up, his sensitive hole aching with the sharp burn each time you pull out. You press his face into the crook of your neck and he mewls as you tug his arms behind his back, your hands strong and firm. He feels powerless like this, buried in the scent of your sweat and cologne, and all he can do is moan.

He stiffens when something snaps around his wrists. He arches back, trying to spot it. "What—?"

"Sh-shh, puppy. You're too antsy. Gotta learn to take it slow." You smooth out his blindfold, twisted several times around his slim wrists. You glance down at him, your hair tickling his cheek. "Don't you?"

It feels like he's breathing soup. His heart hammers and he clenches around you, knees and feet scrabbling for purchase against the couch without the use of his arms. He whimpers, tugging at the bindings. His fingers flex. "Y-Yes, sir..."

"Good boy."

And god, do you take it slow. He's a mess in minutes, teary-eyed and trembling, as you use him like a toy, lifting and lowering him on your cock, which feels all too big and thick in his swollen, abused hole. He swears he can taste it. He babbles, his sudden orgasm going totally ignored even as he sobs and calls you everything under the sun ranging from his usual pet-names to your title. You ignore him, focussing on keeping your thrusts steady and even.

"Sir," he gasps wetly as his aching cock twitches valiantly. "Sir."

"Yes, puppy?"

His brain is melting out of his ears. Hot tears streak down his flushed cheeks, wetting your shoulder. It's humiliating, being trapped like this on your cock, and he can't help the new ball of arousal swirling low in his belly.

"Too deep..." He lets out a wet whimper as his cock begins to harden again. Oh, stamina. "P-Please – come already..."

"I'm trying pretty hard." You hum, rolling him in your hands like a scientist with their pet project. You sigh as if disappointed. "You're all loose – like a whore."

Choking out a devastated moan, he shuffles on his knees, walls squeezing and swallowing your cock with renewed vigour. "Sir, I'm – 'm not—"

"Please, Satoru. You already admitted to touching yourself while I was away – you couldn't wait just a few weeks for me to come home. If you were good, you would've kept your hands to yourself. You forget who this—" you lift his hips and tap his asshole, making him clench and whine "—belongs to."

Few weeks? Few weeks? Satoru wants to cry. It isn't his fault his love language is physical touch. Going cold turkey for so long was agonising.

"'M sorry," he whispers, eyes squeezing shut as you dance your fingers over his swollen cock. "O-Oh...!"

You huff, shifting on the couch. You hold him up, his delicate hipbones slotted into the V of your thumb and forefinger. "I know you are, but I'll remind you anyway. You belong to me."

You set a punishing pace, fucking up into him and dragging him down to meet your thrusts. His hair bounces and he cries out, arms flexing against the blindfold. His eyes roll back and he moans, open-mouthed, against your neck, broken little half-sobs punched out of his throat.

He can't get a single full word out. Even his cracked, ruined 'fuck, fuck, fuck' is peppered with whines.

Then your hand comes down, hard, on his ass.

His eyes widen. His mouth opens in a silent scream. He comes.

You groan as thin streaks of come splatter your stomach, his cock rutting against you through it. His hips jerk and he starts to sob openly when your pace only quickens, his ass rippling with each thrust. "Fuck, sir," he wails, "y'feel so good...!"

You massage his stinging cheek, whispering sweet nothings in his ear that float him away into a soft cloud of thoughtlessness. It's so easy to give up control to you – so easy to hand himself over. If he has nothing else to give, you will have him.

Even through the fog of pleasure, he remembers how to kiss you. He would know how even if he lost every memory. He moans into it, raspy and wrecked. His toes curl and bliss weighs down his bones as you groan his name and thrust up once, twice, into him, cock throbbing hotly against his soft, gummy walls. Finally, you sink into the couch, holding him close.

He lays there, slumped against you, as you catch your breath together. His eyes flutter shut, the image of your face as you come seared into his mind, and he giggles drunkenly to himself.

You were so good to him even when you were mean.

Gently, you ease his blindfold off his wrists, and he immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders protectively. You're his, and his only. He sits quietly as you clean up to the best of your ability with him on top of you, and he whines softly when you try to set him aside.

"Satoru," you try.

"I'm sore," he retorts, feeling your chest rise and fall with your breaths. His voice is deliciously ragged and raspy. "Fix me."

"No."

"Then I'm staying right here."

"The house will burn down."

"Let it."

Incorrigible. You sigh and lift him just enough to do up your zipper, then lift him in a princess carry and rise to your feet. Satoru purrs and clutches you tighter, rubbing his cheek into your shoulder as you carry him through the house. "Let's find you some new pants, sweetheart."

"M'kay."

"After that, you're on your own," you warn him, stepping sideways through the bedroom door. He uses it as an excuse to tuck his head in the crook of your neck. "I need to check on the soup. I'll call for you when dinner's ready."

"Mm..." He gazes up at you with a sugar-soft look in his eyes. He rubs his hazy eyes as you set him down on the bed to open up his extensive wardrobe. "But I need to set the table..."

"I'll do it. You just take care of clean-up, yeah?"

"Mhm." Satoru tugs the open sides of his button-up shirt closed and fixes the long hem over his milky thighs. He sighs softly, watching you gather his pyjamas with soft blue eyes. "It's really good to have you home, you know. Everything's back to normal."

"Is that right?" Your voice softens and you cross the room, ducking down to Satoru's level. Expectantly, he lifts his face, closing his eyes, and smiles as you brush back his bangs and press your lips to his forehead. "Then you better make sure to spoil me rotten."

He catches your hand before you can pull away. With a teasing, bitten-back grin, he lowers it, and tugs his shirt hem up. He places your hand on his thigh, dragging it higher.

"Like this?" he whispers, coy when he flutters his lashes at you.

Your fingers dig into the soft, sensitive meat of his thigh. He mewls softly, plush pink lips parting.

You tear your hand away, drawing in a sharp breath. "Fuck. Later. Soup first."

Satoru huffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back on his palms when you scramble out the door. "Stupid soup," he mumbles to himself petulantly. "Why would he eat anything else when I'm right here? Stupid noodles. Stupid husband."

A voice breaks through the silence from down the hall. "I heard that!"

"Good!" He collects the clothes you'd picked out for him, smoothing his fingers down the soft cotton patterns. "I ain't a liar!"

He mumbles a radio song under his breath as he tosses away the plain black boxer shorts into the wardrobe. A sly smirk flickers across his features as he pulls out a pair of baby-blue panties from a drawer, placed right at the front and tucked into a neat little square. It's a pretty thing, lacey and soft, and it sits nice and high on him, accentuating his slender hips. They make his legs go on for ages.

He tucks it into his stack of clothes with an innocent hum, and then off he goes, prancing into the bathroom with an extra pep in his step. He doesn't lock the door behind him.

Satoru understands that you enjoy taking care of him, pampering him like a princess even when he pulls your hair and takes your toys. You always will. It's a wonderful thing, to be loved so sweetly; no one else could do it better.

He needs to return the favour, he thinks, glancing at his clothes and the little secret they hide. Nothing feels like it could ever measure up to what you do for him, but he can do this, and it's a start. Perhaps it'll get him closer to being your equal.

[kekewrites]

Tw. dark content, noncon, obsession, toxic, possessiveness, abandonment issues, sloppy blowjob, throat fucking, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, name calling (cock-sleeve/warmer/bitch), multiple creampies, cunnilingus, slapping (baby slap though), baby-trapping, angst(?), coercion, dead dove do not eat

***

Thinking about being the manager of a yandere!Idol

You found him wandering in the streets, empty eyes and blank expression on his pretty face. If you didn't look hard you might've missed his tall figure. Being a newbie, you were finding it hard to recruit people but as you were about to go home, you caught sight of his attractive yet hopeless face.

The first time you approach him, he was wary and suspicious of you. Naturally so. But you persevere, introducing yourself as an agent recruiting handsome guys like him in the streets for a chance to become a trainee and become an idol.

"Fuck off. Scram."

That was the first words he said. Harsh. But he was all bark and no bite, like a puppy being defensive. After scuffling for a few minutes you managed to give him your card and phone number, convincing him to at least try.

Then a week later, he called and said yes. His voice was low, hesitant—like he didn’t fully believe in what he was doing, but was too tired of the streets to keep saying no.

You met up with him that same evening, in the same place you first found him. He looked cleaner, but still lost. You took him in without question, gave him food, a place to sleep, and most importantly, a reason to wake up.

For the first few days, he barely spoke. He just slept, ate, and stared at the ceiling like he was trying to remember who he was. You didn’t push. You just stayed nearby, gave him space, but made sure he knew, he wasn’t alone anymore.

Weeks turned into months. Slowly, he started coming back to life. You took care of him, through the bad days when he’d lock himself in his room, through the training sessions where he’d collapse from pushing too hard, through the nights he’d wake up in a cold sweat and pretend he was fine.

And you were always there. With water, with snacks, with a shoulder to lean on.

You watched him grow. From that broken boy on the street into someone who sang with soul, danced with fire, and spoke to crowds with a confidence he never had before.

He became an idol. And every time he stood under the lights, every time fans screamed his name, he always looked for you in the crowd.

Because you didn’t just recruit him.

You saved him.

And that’s when it went wrong.

At first, it was subtle. His smiles came more often when you were around, his tone soft and sugary. He’d cling to your side during breaks, crack jokes, brush your hair out of your face with that charming little smirk. You thought maybe he was just grateful, maybe he was trying to show affection in his own awkward way. After all, he’d been through a lot.

But then, it turned into something else.

He started showing up unannounced. Hovering around your office when he had no schedule. Getting visibly annoyed when you spoke too long with other trainees or staff. The sweet words never stopped, but they started feeling… off. Like they were laced with something heavier. Something darker.

The possessiveness crept in like a slow poison. At meetings, he’d glare at anyone who tried to sit next to you. He'd interrupt your conversations, redirect your attention, cut in with sharp remarks masked as jokes.

You tried to keep it professional, gently reminding him of boundaries, of roles, but he didn't like that.

"Why are you always talking to him?"

"Do you really need to be with them all the time?"

"I'm the reason you’re even doing well now, aren't I?"

And you saw it, in the way other staff avoided him, how they started whispering when he walked by. He was getting harder to work with. More demanding. More unpredictable.

But in front of cameras? He was perfect. The golden boy. Smiling, dazzling, every fan’s dream. But behind the scenes… the boy you once saved was slowly becoming someone else. Or maybe this was who he had been all along, buried beneath the brokenness.

And now, you weren’t sure if you had saved him…

Or created something you couldn’t control.

As his fame skyrocketed, managing him became nearly impossible.

He was everywhere, magazine covers, variety shows, drama cameos. His schedule was packed from sunrise to well past midnight, and you were running yourself ragged trying to keep up. But more than the logistics, it was him. His moods became harder to predict. Some days he was gentle, clinging to you like he used to when he was scared. Other days, he’d snap, throw things, or go cold for no reason.

You were still new to the game. Everyone could see you were trying your best, but it wasn’t enough, not for the industry, and definitely not for him.

The company made the call.

“We think it’s best to assign him a senior manager. Someone with more experience managing top-tier idols.”

They dressed it up as a strategic decision. And honestly? You agreed. Things had gotten too messy. Your once-close relationship had turned into something twisted, confusing, and emotionally draining. You told yourself it was for his own good, that maybe distance would help him reset.

“I’ll still be around,” you told him, forcing a smile. “But someone else will be taking care of your day-to-day.”

He stared at you. Didn’t say anything for a long while. Just stared.

Then, softly, too softly, he said, “You’re leaving me.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m just stepping back. This is better for you. For both of us.”

But he didn’t believe you. You could see it in his eyes. Something in him snapped that day, not outwardly, not immediately but you felt it. Like a quiet storm gathering behind the clouds.

You thought giving him space would help him unwind. Hoping he can finally indulge in the fame he had, probably get a secret girlfriend

You didn’t expect it to be the thing that finally made him unravel.

***

After that, you finally left.

Your first real break in years. You cashed your paycheck, packed your bags, and disappeared for a while, far from rehearsals, stress, and the boy you once pulled off the streets. It felt… weird at first. Empty. But you told yourself it was needed. Long overdue.

You didn’t keep in touch. Not because you didn’t want to but because it felt like the cleanest way to let go. Still, everywhere you went, there he was. His face lit up LED billboards with that same smile the one from when he had just debuted. Back when things were simpler. Sweeter.

You’d stop and stare sometimes, stuck between nostalgia and guilt. Wondering where it all went wrong. Was it the fame? The past he never healed from? Or… was it you?

But even through the ache, you hoped he was doing better. Independent. Stable. Happy. He wouldn’t have a hard time finding a girlfriend, not with that face, that charm, and a fanbase that worshipped the ground he walked on.

You were walking home from a quiet dinner one night, city lights buzzing around you, when you passed another ad of him huge and perfect lighting up the side of a building. You paused without meaning to, lost in your head.

That’s when your phone rang.

You didn’t even check the caller ID. Just answered, out of habit.

“…Hello?”

Silence. Then a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

“I missed you.”

You froze.

And then, a shadow stepped up behind you.

A cap pulled low, sunglasses covering most of his face but you knew. You felt it.

He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear.

“You think you’re gonna escape from me?”

Your heart dropped.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, firm, but not violent. Still, it sent your pulse racing. People were around, but no one looked twice. Just a couple under the lights.

“Wait—what are you doing?!” you whispered, trying to pull away.

He smiled, too calm, too practiced.

“Let’s talk. Somewhere quieter.”

***

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you through the maze of streets, only tightening his grip whenever you slowed down. You wanted to pull away, to yell, but something in his silence kept you frozen.

Eventually, he led you into a sleek hotel, one of those high-end discreet places celebrities used when they wanted to disappear. You were too stunned to resist, your mind racing with every step.

The elevator ride was silent.

He pushed the door open, guided you inside, and shut it behind you with a soft click. The curtains were drawn. City lights barely filtered through the fabric.

He finally let go of your wrist and walked ahead, pulling off his cap and tossing it to the couch, glasses following. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, agitated, pacing the room like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I looked for you,” he finally said, voice tight. “Every day.”

You said nothing. He turned to face you.

“Why didn’t you call? Text? Anything?”

“It wasn’t my place anymore,” you answered softly. “We needed space. You needed to grow.”

He laughed bitterly. “Grow into what? A product?”

You flinched.

He stepped closer. “So that’s all it was, huh? A business deal? Get the pretty boy off the streets, polish him up, sell him to the world then cut him off once he gets too hard to manage?”

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “It was never just business. I cared about you. But things got—”

“Complicated?” he snapped. “Yeah. You left when things got complicated.” His voice cracked, the anger just barely covering the hurt underneath. “So your life with me,” he said, slower this time, like each word hurt, “was really just a job?”

You took a step forward, your chest tightening.

“No. It was real. I-I just... you changed.”

“And you didn’t?” he whispered, eyes shining with something fragile anger, betrayal, desperation. “You walked away like I meant nothing.”

"You matter to me—"

“That’s what it felt like. You gave me everything, then took it all back the second I started needing you too much.”

“I didn’t take anything back,” you said, stepping back instinctively. “I was trying to help you. You were becoming... unstable. You needed someone more experienced. I just wanted you to be okay.”

His hands balled into fists.

“Okay? I was only okay when you were there. You made me." His voice rising with desperate anger. In a flash, he grabbed your wrists and dragged you towards the bed, forcing you down onto the plush mattress. Before you could react, he climbed on top of you, straddling your waist and pinning your arms above your head.

"G-Get off me..." you gasped, struggling beneath him. But he was too strong, too determined. His eyes burned into yours, wild and unpredictable.

"No," he growled, one hand still gripping your wrists while the other tugged at his belt. "You don't get to leave me. I won't let you."

He yanked his belt off and tossed it to the side. Then his fingers were at your pants, popping the button and dragging the zipper down. You tried to close your legs, but he forced them open, settling himself between your thighs.

"No, wait-" you started to protest, but he silenced you with a brutal kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, claiming you. His cock was hard and insistent against your stomach, and you knew he wouldn't stop.

"Please," you whimpered when he let you catch your breath. But it was a lie and you both knew it. He'd never listened to your pleas before.

"Shut up. Shut up... Shut up."

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him as he undid his jeans and shoved them down just enough to get his cock out. It bobbed in front of you, angry and hungry and so fucking hard.

"Open," he commanded, his grip on your hair tightening painfully.

You hesitated, your lips pressed firmly together. He cursed and slapped your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to sting.

"Open your fucking mouth," he snarled.

Tears stung your eyes at the sharp crack against your cheek, but you parted your lips just as he slammed forward, shoving his cock past your teeth and into your mouth. He didn't wait for you to adjust, just started fucking your face with hard, brutal thrusts.

Hurts... He's hurting me...

You choked on his cock, gagging and sputtering as he forced himself deeper and deeper down your throat. Saliva flooded your mouth and spilled out over your lips as he used your mouth like a fuckhole, grunting and groaning above you.

Why is he always... mad at me?

He fucked your face hard and fast, not caring about your comfort, only chasing his own pleasure. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you gagged and choked around him, your throat constricting around his pistoning cock.

He used your mouth ruthlessly, slamming into your throat and pulling out just long enough to catch his breath before plunging back in.

You knew he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied, until he'd emptied his balls down your throat. All you could do was try to breathe through your nose and pray it would be over quickly.

Mine. Mine.

He chanted it desperately under his breath, eyes glazed over with lust and obsession as he continued to viciously fuck your face. His hips slammed against your chin with each brutal thrust, your neck bulging obscenely each time he hilts inside you.

"Gonna...fucking...ruin this...cunt of a mouth..."

He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face, lost in his own manic pursuit of release. He needed this, needed to take back control, to reclaim you. You had left him, abandoned him, but now...now you were his again. His to use, his to ruin.

Always wanted...to fuck this...painted whore mouth...of yours...

He could feel his balls tightening, his climax building from the base of his spine. He was going to come, going to fill your belly with his seed, mark you from the inside out. You were going to choke on his cum, swallow it all, and maybe then you'd understand. Maybe then you'd realize you belonged to him, and him alone.

"Fuck! Take it all, you...cock sleeve!"

His fingers tightened in your hair, yanking your head back even further as his hips slammed forward one last time. He hilts inside you, his cock pulsing and jerking as he started to come, flooding your throat and mouth with string after string of hot, thick cum.

Manager... Manager. Manager. I fucking love you.

He groaned long and low, his eyes rolling back in his head as he emptied his balls inside you. His cock jerked and spasmed as he pumped load after load of semen directly into your stomach, your throat bulging obscenely.

"Fuck!" he roared, his voice echoing in the room. "Fuck, yes! Take it all, you fucking...cock warmer!"

He held you in place, forcing you to swallow every last drop, his grip on your hair almost painfully tight. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled out, his softening cock slipping from your abused lips with a wet pop.

He collapsed next to you, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling. You turned your head to the side, gasping for air, your throat sore and raw. Tears and saliva and his own essence coated your face.

"I...I'm sorry," you whimpered, voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to leave you. Please...forgive me..."

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes, ah his eyes...they were haunted, desperate. Lost.

"Forgive you?"

He reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, smearing his own cum back into your mouth. You flinched at the taste, but he held you firm.

Forgive you?

His other hand slid down your body, over your breasts, your stomach, to cup your mound possessively. He squeezed, fingers digging into your tender flesh.

"You'd have to do more than that if you want me to forgive you. I won't let you go again. Ever."

H-Huh?

Before you could catch your breath, he yank your hips up and pulls down your pants and panty. You felt the cool air on your exposed ass and pussy.

"No, wait-" you started to protest, trying to crawl away. But he grabbed your hips in a bruising grip, pulling you back onto his still-hard cock. He rubbed the thick head up and down your slit, coating it in a mix of your spit and his own cum.

"Shut up," he snarled, voice ragged with lust and desperation. "Stop fucking fighting me. Stop resisting!"

With one brutal thrust, he slammed forward, spearing your cunt on his throbbing shaft. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your walls clamping down around him like a vice. He was too big, too hard, splitting you open.

Hurts... He's being... cruel.

"Fuck!" he roared, starting to piston in and out of your helpless pussy. "Take it! Take my fucking cock!"

He set a punishing pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Each thrust jolted you forward, your tits swaying beneath you. Tears poured down your face as he used you, brutalized you, his hips slamming against your ass with every stroke.

But then, he slowed. His grip gentled, fingers kneading your ass almost lovingly as he rolled his hips into yours. He leaned down, lips brushing the nape of your neck, breathing raggedly against your skin.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured, voice hoarse. "So tight. Like you were made for me..."

He peppered kisses along your shoulder blades, his touch almost tender. You shuddered, confused, not understanding the sudden change. He rocked into you, each thrust measured, deliberate, like he was savoring the feeling of your tight cunt gripping his cock. Fuck, so fucking perfect.

"Manager... You're mine, ok? No one... No one can touch you but me!"

But just as suddenly, he changed again. His hips started moving faster, harder, the room echoing with the slap of skin and the creak of the mattress. He hooked an arm under your waist, hauling you back onto every stroke, forcing you to take every fucking inch.

"Yes, fuck!" he bellowed, sweat dripping onto your back. "Gonna...fucking ruin this pussy. Gonna make it mine."

He was panting harshly, his rhythm faltering. You could feel him growing even harder inside you, his cock throbbing erratically against your battered walls. You knew he was close, that he was going to come again.

But then he paused, buried deep inside you, cock pulsing urgently. He gripped your hips, fingers sinking into your skin hard enough to bruise.

"Gonna...fucking...knock you up," he growled. "Breed this cunt. Pump you full of my fucking seed."

You shook your head frantically, a strangled cry escaping your lips at the thought. "No! No, please...don't..."

He ignored you, starting to move again, thrusts growing more intense, more desperate. "Yes," he hissed. "Yes, gonna make you...mine. Gonna keep you...swollen with my child..."

His voice rose with each word, until he was nearly screaming. You could feel his cock jerk and twitch, his climax approaching. He was going to do it, going to come inside you, maybe even...

"Take it!" he roared. "Fucking take it, you bitch! Gonna...fucking...breed you!"

He slammed into you with a last, brutal thrust, his cock erupting deep inside your unprotected womb. You screamed as you felt the hot flood of his seed gushing into you, painting your insides with his come. He groaned long and low, body shuddering, emptying himself inside you.

He panted against your neck, sweat-soaked and sated.

"Manager... You won't be able to run away from me now."

You lay still beneath him, tears leaking from your eyes, a sense of dread washing over you.

He rolled you over, cradling you against his chest, your tear-stained face pressed to his sweat-slicked skin. His arms wrapped around you, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe.

Tilting your chin up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart clench. Gone was the wild, crazed look from before. Now there was only a solemn, almost reverent expression on his handsome face.

"Manager, you're the only one for me," he murmured, voice low and intense. "My heart, my soul... it all belongs to you. Don't leave me again, alright? All the luxuries, all the fame and wealth... it's meaningless without you here with me."

His thumb brushed over your cheek, catching the tears that still leaked from the corners of your eyes. He leaned in closer, forehead pressed against yours, breath mingling with your own.

You want to refuse. Want to push him away, but you're eyes gets blurry with tears, getting overwhelmed. Why you?

He pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, your shoulder, your spine, worshipping every inch of your skin like the devoted disciple he claimed to be. Tears leaked from your eyes at the tenderness of his touches, the heartfelt sincerity in his tone.

It's like the old him...

But even as you lost yourself in the gentle glide of his lips, you could feel the desperation radiating off him in waves. This calm, this tenderness...it was a fragile thing.

He's always been such a fragile boy.

His hands roamed your body with a hunger that was almost painful in its intensity. He was trying to memorize you, to burn every dip and curve into his mind.

He hitched your leg up over his hip, opening you to him. You could feel his cock, already hard and ready again, nudging against your thigh, making you freeze.

He... He's still ready?

He was insatiable, this man. He would never be satisfied, would never have enough of you.

His eyes were wild again, pupils blown wide with renewed lust. He notched himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pushing demandingly at your folds.

"Feel this, Manager?" he whispered hotly, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. "Feel what you do to me? How much I just want to... Fuck you, need you..."

"I-I'm still sore... Please, I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that and just let me in your cunt, ok?"

He surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You cried out, back arching off the bed, your nails digging into his shoulders. He was so deep, so hard, stretching you in ways that made you see stars. He's deeper this time?

"Wah... Your cunt still so tight, you're squeezing me dry~"

He started to move, hips rolling into yours with a force that shook the headboard. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, left you gasping and mewling beneath him. He was lost in the heat of you, in the way your cunt gripped him.

"Tell me you need it, Manager," he urged, his cock slamming home and stilling, pulsing urgently inside you. "Tell me you want this... want me... as much as I need and want you!"

He pumped harder, faster, chasing his pleasure, his release. The room filled with the crude slap of skin against skin, with your choked cries and his grunts. He was going to come again, you could feel it in the erratic jerk of his hips, in the way his cock pulsed and throbbed inside you.

"Fuck!" he roared, slamming into you one last time. "Fuck, Manager, fuck!"

"N-no! Don't do it inside again!"

You bit your lips, muffling your ecstasy as you felt the hot rush of his come flooding your womb, your own orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your vision swam, your body shaking with the force of it.

He's gonna come inside... I'll get pregnant at this rate...

And then, with a long, guttural groan, he was coming again. His cock erupted like a fountain, pumping spurt after spurt of his hot cum deep into your hungry womb. The sensation was too much... too intense... and you felt yourself plummeting into oblivion, the darkness claiming you as his release seemed to go on and on.

The last thing you heard as you drifted off was his ragged voice, panting your name like a prayer.

"Manager... Manager... Manager! I love you! I love you! I fucking love you!"

***

You stared up at the ceiling, the memories of the past playing out like a movie reel in your mind. You could see him there, a young and nervous pop sensation, gripping your hands tightly as you offered him words of encouragement and support.

"You've got this," you had said, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. "Go out there and give them the performance of a lifetime. They're waiting for you."

"Okay," he nodded, squaring his shoulders with newfound determination. "Okay, Manager. I can do this. With you by my side, I can do anything."

He stepped out onto the stage. The crowd had gone wild, their screams and cheers a tangible force that seemed to lift him up and carry him forward. He had shone under the hot lights, his voice ringing out clear and strong, his movements confident and sure.

And you had watched from the wings, your heart swelling with pride and love as you beheld the man you had helped to create. He was more than just your client, more than just your star - he was your greatest achievement, your crowning glory. You had taken a scared and scrawny boy and molded him into a god among men, a king among the elite.

But now, as you lay there in the dim light of the bedroom, you could feel the weight of that responsibility crushing down on you. It was your fault, after all, that he had become this twisted and broken creature, this monster who would dare to touch you without your consent, to hold you against your will.

His arms tightened around you, crushing you against his chest, his breath hot and heavy against the back of your neck. He was saying all the right things, murmuring all the right words, but you could feel the dark intent behind them. The gentleness was a lie, a mask he wore to hide the cruelty that lurked beneath.

"Shh, it's alright," he cooed, his lips brushing your ear. "Don't cry, I'm here now. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

But you didn't want him here. You didn't want his comfort or his affection or his twisted version of love. You wanted him to let you go, to release you from the nightmare that had become your life. You wanted to be free of him, to run until you couldn't run anymore, to disappear and never be found again.

But you knew it was impossible. He would never let you go, would never allow you to leave him. He needed you too much, depended on you for his every breath and his every heartbeat. And as long as you remained by his side, as long as you stayed in his life… he would never stop hunting you, never stop pursuing you until he had claimed you completely.

It was a bitter realization, a cruel twist of fate that left you feeling hollow and empty inside. You had once believed that you could save him, that your love and your guidance could be enough to keep the darkness at bay. But now… now you knew the truth. You knew that you had been the one to nurture the seeds of his madness, to feed the flames of his obsession until it had grown into an all-consuming inferno.

And so you lay there, trapped in his embrace, tears leaking down your face as you prayed silently for a miracle, for some way out of this nightmare. But deep down, you knew that there would be no miracle, no divine intervention to come rescue you from the man you had once called your star.

You had been his manager, his guide, his friend… and his downfall. And now, you would bear the consequences of your choice for the rest of your days.

With a sob catching in your throat, you closed your eyes and surrendered to the darkness, praying that when you opened them again… you would be somewhere, anywhere else. But far away from here, and far away from him.

Though, you only have yourself to blame.

You were the one who scouted him after all~

Stupid manager.

[saturnsurn]

THANK YOU! THANK YOU?

In which you receive/give random gifts!

⭒ Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna and Toji

⭒ warnings - gore but not visually (sukuna), nothing else I think? Toji’s isn’t actually random but wtvs

[mechsangel]

˚₊⋅─── BFF ───⋅ ˚₊

☆. # SYNOPSIS — suguru, satoru & you are best friends… or more, who knows

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — layout change.

☆. # WARNINGS — gojo bullying, gn!reader, all three of you are into each other but dont wanna admit it, random texts between you guys, no timeline for this one cause idk when this is going down tbh, part one this will be continued (maybe)

<3 — tags: @krispywhisperswhispers @not-aya @jinxiewritings @rllyobsessedgirlie @p1nkfl0wers