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justrustandstardust · 2 months

Text

*✧:*one, two, three (it's not only you and me)*:･✧*:

@ryuqzn on X

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," the white-haired man says, gaze flickering down your body. he looks back up, making eye contact.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, blue eyes piercing.

after you get stood up, you're ready to cut your losses and head home. when a couple approaches you at the bar with a proposition, you just might end up changing your mind.

MDNI: i'm not joking, this is utter filth and minors should steer clear of it like they're teenage boys and this is a decent haircut.

pairing: geto/gojo/you

a/n: this is for someone special. you know who you are.

important: afab reader, she/her pronouns

word count: 16k (i know, i fucking know)

because i'm clinically insane, i've created a playlist to enchance your listening ~pleasure. here's the spotify version, and here's the youtube version. this is purely for the girls, gays and theys. i hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it. (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

the clock's just struck nine, and you sigh, glancing down at your phone for the umpteenth time that evening. you suppose it's your fault for having such shit taste in men, anyways, for agreeing to meet a loser that didn't even bother to show.

swirling the straw around your drink, you kick your legs out from your seat on the barstool and ponder whether or not to ask the bartender for another. this is already your third drink; you're no lightweight but even you aren't impervious to the effects of three whiskey neats.

sighing again, you decide to cut your losses and call it a night. fuck men, you think distastefully, reaching into your bag for your wallet. literally and figuratively. you got all dressed up for some asshole that couldn't even bother to take you to bed tonight.

you're rooting around in your purse for your wallet when there’s a sudden tap on your shoulder. you glance up, and are met with the faces of possibly the two most beautiful men you've ever seen before in your life. they tower over you, and though you're sitting, you know that even if you stood up they'd easily have several inches on you. the dark-haired man is sporting a half-up half-down hairstyle, the contours of his chest and broad shoulders barely hidden by a fitted dress shirt and leather jacket.

you glance at the other man, who's light-haired and blue-eyed. his waist is so impossibly small in his dress shirt that you almost reach out to wrap your hands around it, just to see if they could fit. they're looking at you like they're seeing through you, and you blink, heady from both the alcohol and weight of their gaze.

"sorry to interrupt, but are you heading out?" the dark-haired man asks politely, leaning forward slightly. you nod slowly, unsure of what he's going to say next.

he chuckles, ducking his head. "ah, that's too bad. my partner and i were wondering if you'd like to come out with us tonight."

"come out?" you say, raising an eyebrow. the white-haired man rolls his eyes, pushing at the dark-haired man's arm.

"what suguru is trying to avoid saying is the whole cliché of 'we saw you from across the bar and we really like your vibe'," he says, making direct eye contact with you.

"but it's true, so we were wondering if you'd like to join us for some fun," he says casually, gaze unwavering. your eyes nearly bulge out of your head and you glance between them, watching as the dark-haired man —suguru?— pushes back, swatting the white-haired man on the shoulder.

"you'll have to forgive satoru, he's a bit upfront. but yes, we would love to get to know you better, if you're interested," he says purposefully, dark eyes meeting yours.

"no pressure, of course. we'd be just as happy to call you a taxi to make sure you get home safe and leave it at that," he adds, nodding at the door. your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you glance between them, at the cocksure expression on the white-haired man's face and the carefully open one on his partner's.

"can i know your names?" you manage, and the dark-haired man smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"you can call me geto. this is gojo," he says, gesturing to the white-haired man, who boisterously sticks out his tongue and flashes a peace sign.

you tell them your name in return and geto smiles again, glancing at gojo.

"that's a beautiful name. we'd be happy to do whatever you'd like to do tonight— it's totally up to you. we'll be happy with any choice you make, even if that means our acquaintanceship ends here," geto says kindly but meaningfully, looking into your eyes so you know he's serious. gojo nods beside him, and then smirks.

"wherever you're headed won't be nearly as exciting as us, though," he intones liltingly, brow raised in challenge. geto smacks him upside the head and he winces, pouting at the abuse.

"satoru is just joking," geto says, glancing sharply at gojo. "we are completely okay with whatever you want to do. we just want to make our interest in you very, very clear."

you haven't moved for the entirety of this interaction. you glance between them again, at these two heaven-sent men on a night you were basically begging to be dicked down only to be disappointed by the universe (read: a random loser whose name you can't even remember). swallowing hard, you think that you made your choice as soon as the words left geto's lips.

"i'll come with you," is what finally comes out of your mouth, throat dry. geto's lips quirk upwards and gojo grins, extending a hand to help you down from the barstool.

"just let me pay for these drinks first," you say, going for your purse. geto shakes his head and steps forward, catching your wrist in one hand and guiding it away from your bag.

"i don't think so," he says simply, releasing your wrist and reaching into his back pocket. he throws way too many bills onto the counter and you're trying not to gape as gojo snickers, urging you to take his hand. his palm is warm to the touch as he helps you down from the barstool, geto bringing up the rear with a featherlight touch to the small of your back.

you were right. even with heels, they tower over you. flanked on either side, they walk you to the door, geto pushing it open and gesturing for you to go through. as you pass him, you catch a whiff of versace's eau fraiche, the distinct notes of rosewood filtering through your nostrils. gojo follows behind you, tapping on his phone.

it's cold, and you didn't bring a jacket. you're trying to appear like you're not shivering but geto notices anyways, shrugging off his own leather jacket to drape around your shoulders. gojo steps away, raising his phone to his ear.

"where are we going?" you ask, geto's cologne enveloping you along with his residual body heat. geto glances at gojo, who's speaking quietly to someone on the phone.

"somewhere private," he says, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. he looks at you, something darkening in his gaze. "somewhere no one will disturb us."

gojo hangs up the phone, stepping off the curb into the street. seconds later, a sleek black SUV pulls up, windows tinted. gojo goes around the other side and geto opens the door for you, holding out a hand to help you inside. it's easily the most expensive car you've ever been in, the seats plush and the interior unbelievably spacious. there are four seats facing each other, the front of the car partitioned so the driver isn't visible. gojo takes the seat opposite you, kicking up his feet and folding his hands behind his head.

geto sits down beside you, reaching into a small compartment that evaded your notice to produce a chilled bottle of water.

"so you can sober up," he explains, unscrewing the cap. "we don't want you intoxicated for what's coming next."

"what's coming next?" you parrot, taking the water. gojo snickers again, pulling a lollipop out from god knows where and popping it between his teeth. he sucks, cheeks hollowing around the candy, eyes never leaving yours.

"we're down to do whatever you want to do," geto says, turning to face you. his features are open, honest. "we just need to know what's on the table."

"everything," you reply too quickly, answer coming out instantly. geto chuckles good-naturedly, gesturing to the water.

"then you'll have to get started on that."

you've never chugged water so hastily in your life. the drive is short, ten minutes at best, and the three of you sit in comfortable silence, tempered by the sounds of smooth rnb filtering through the car's speakers. the car pulls up beside a skyscraper, endlessly tall against the city skies. gojo takes the empty bottle from your hand and carelessly tosses it aside, stepping outside and taking your hand in his to help you out of the car. geto goes around the other way, nodding at the driver as the car rolls away from the curb.

the building is locked, and you watch as gojo pulls out a black card, flashing it in front of a sensor. the doors part to reveal an immaculate marble lobby, scaffolded by floor-to-ceiling windows that are at least three stories high. building staff are positioned discreetly behind tall counters, none of whom pay gojo and geto any mind as the three of you make their way through to the elevators. your heels are clacking on the polished floor, geto's jacket snug around your shoulders.

there are eight elevators, but only one with a sensor. gojo flashes his card again, the elevator doors sliding open. geto holds the door for you as you step inside, taking gojo's proffered arm. he presses the only button on the wall —labelled PH— as geto follows you inside, the doors closing behind him. you're still holding onto gojo's arm as the elevator rises, and rises, and rises. it moves silently, the only sound the clack of the lollipop against gojo's teeth. it's been at least two full minutes and you're starting to wonder if you're genuinely in the stratosphere when there's a quiet ping and the elevator slows to a stop.

geto steps out, motioning at you to go ahead. gojo leads you down the hall to what appears to be the only suite on the entire floor. expecting the black card again, you're surprised when he presses his palm to a large, flat pad, which scans his hand and flashes green. the door clicks open and gojo heads inside, geto once again bringing up the rear.

you're confronted by the most stunning residence you've ever seen. the architecture is open-concept, with two stories connected by a spiral staircase. the same floor-to-ceiling windows from the lobby showcase the glittering city skyline, lights twinkling just below the clouds. everywhere you look, there's sleek leather and white marble, outfitted with tasteful minimal decor and modern art.

"where am i?" is all you're able to say, struggling to pick your jaw up from the floor. gojo laughs, sliding his jacket off and tossing it onto a chaise in the living room.

"don't worry about it," he winks, pulling the lollipop from between his lips and ignoring geto's subsequent eyerolling. "life is better when you get it to live it in 3D."

"he's a nepo baby," geto interjects, going around the kitchen island and opening two massive fridge doors. "and he's insufferable, so being rich makes him easier to deal with."

gojo huffs indignantly, tossing the lollipop in something discreetly disguised as a garbage.

geto rummages around in the fridge, taking out the most expensive-looking sandwich you've ever seen. "hungry?"

you shake your head, and geto looks at you, imploring. "i know you had the water, but you're going to need....energy, for what we have planned."

choice made. placing your purse down on the island, you make your way over to where he's standing, taking the baguette. hopping onto a stool, you take a bite, eyebrows shooting up your forehead at the rich flavours. brie, prosciutto, fig jam.....the list continues.

geto glances at gojo, who's now only wearing his slacks, dress shirt and tie. "satoru, you can start getting the room ready. i'll bring her when she's done."

you’re mildly surprised when gojo makes an affirmative noise and leaves without snark, setting off to one of the many rooms in the suite. after he disappears from sight, geto turns back to you.

"this is the part where i ask how you like it," he says, leaning his elbows onto the kitchen island. you swallow, fig jam tangy on your tongue.

"like i said," you meet his gaze, holding steady. "i like all of it."

geto smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "both ends?"

"every single one," you say purposefully, never breaking eye contact.

he chuckles, nodding to himself. "we're clean, by the way."

"as am i," you confirm, popping the last bite of sandwich into your mouth. "on birth control, too," you add, after chewing.

"good to know," geto remarks, pushing himself off his elbows. he helps you down from the stool, taking his jacket from your shoulders and setting it down on the counter. fingertips dancing along the small of your back, he guides you down the same direction gojo went earlier, stopping in front of a large door.

"last chance to change your mind," he says, voice low. he's looking at you openly, honestly. "there won't be any hard feelings either way."

you've never been so sure of anything in your life. "i want this," you breathe, suffocated by the truth of that statement. "i want both of you."

geto exhales, slow smile gracing his features. wordlessly, he opens the door, gesturing for you to go ahead. the room is dimly lit by cool-toned floorlights, but you can make out the shape of a bed in the centre, warmed by a fireplace at its opposite. the same floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the city skyline, creating a glittering effect along the room’s walls. you squint at the far-off section of the room with tiled floor, following the tile into a bathroom that houses a massive, glass doored rainfall shower, alongside an enormous claw-foot tub.

gojo is standing in front of the bed, lanky stature backlit by the cityscape outside. he's still wearing his shirt, slacks and tie, sans his shoes. the door clicks shut behind you, and you sense more than see geto take a step towards you, breath ghosting along the nape of your neck.

deafening silence engulfs the room as every single one of your hairs stand on end, the energy in the space charged. gojo hasn't moved and neither has geto, both standing stock still in the silence like they're waiting for you to make the first move.

you let out a shuddering exhale and that's all geto needs, his hand wrapping around your jaw as his mouth attaches itself to your neck. he sucks harshly, hungrily, as his other hand grips your waist from behind, pressing the entire length of his body against yours. gojo is in front of you in an instant and you don't waste a second, yanking him forward by the tie to crash your lips together.

the artificial flavour of the lollipop is sweet on his tongue as he kisses you with intention, hand slipping down to hike your leg around his waist. geto's tongue is working against your neck at the same time, the sensation of two hot mouths overwhelming. gojo sucks your lower lip into his mouth as geto bites the juncture of your neck, eliciting a whine into gojo's teeth.

heat is pooling between your legs and you can feel that they're both hard already, gojo pressed into your front and geto against your back. geto suddenly releases your jaw, taking a step back as gojo lifts you up, settling your other leg around his waist. he's still making out with you as your arms wrap around his shoulders and he walks you both to the bed, carrying you like it's effortless. he sets you down onto the bed, breaking away once you're laid flat on its smooth surface.

you make to grab his tie again and he snatches your wrist in one hand, smirking.

"eager, are we?"

"a bitch, are you?" you snipe, enjoying the way his eyes flash with amusement. he pins your wrist above your head, dipping his head down so that your noses are brushing.

"if you want something, you'll have to ask it for it," he says lowly, gaze flickering down to your mouth. "nicely."

"make me," you retort breathlessly, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. he kisses you back just as hard, broad shoulders caging you in as your hand twists uselessly in his grip.

he breaks away, releasing your wrist. geto reappears, shirtless and wearing only his black jeans. you barely have time to appreciate the muscled planes of his chest and the toned flesh of his abs as he grabs the back of gojo's head, messily bringing their mouths together.

gojo moans against his lips, palms coming up to press at his chest. without breaking apart, geto rips his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as fabric tears. somehow, the tie remains.

gojo shoves him away, stepping backwards to frown at what used to be his shirt. "that was expensive, you know."

"you can buy a dozen more," geto says mildly, turning back to you. you're transfixed, staring at gojo's bare chest that is just as defined as geto's, at the dip of his collarbones and the defined ridges of his abdomen.

gojo makes a face at his ruined shirt and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with geto.

"you're wearing far too many clothes," says geto, a shadow passing over his features. you swallow, shrinking into the bed as something that's not quite fear passes over you— more like an impending sense that something is coming.

geto climbs onto the bed, getting all up into your space immediately. claiming your mouth with his own, he kisses you like he fucking owns you, subsuming every thought in your mind to the point that you don't even notice him unzipping your dress.

he removes your clothes with a care that he didn't use in taking off gojo's, gently tossing your dress aside when you're down to your bra and panties. you're staring up at him as he leans down into you, warm hand resting on your hip.

gojo reappears with a remote in his hand, and you hear a click followed by the same smooth rnb from the car. there must be speakers threaded into the walls because the sound feels like it's coming from everywhere, weaving together the neurons in your brain that have been fried by sensation.

"is this okay?" geto's voice is soft but his eyes are piercing as he lifts you up towards him, palms supporting your back. you nod haltingly, heat flooding your veins as he inclines his head to kiss you again. without stopping, he deftly unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it against the wall without looking. all of a sudden, he pulls away, standing up and moving to the foot of the bed.

gojo swaps places with him, coming up to your torso. you raise an eyebrow in question and geto smiles knowingly, climbing onto the bed and settling in front of your legs.

"satoru and i have different areas of speciality, you could say." gojo's smirk is back on his face as he takes in the sight of your naked chest, watching the flush that you're fighting spread down your clavicle.

"don't be shy, now," he teases, ignoring your death glare. you're about to retort but the air suddenly leaves your lungs in a whoosh as gojo bends forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. his soft hands cup your breasts, massaging firmly as his tongue flickers against the hardening bud.

you let out a shaky exhale, toes curling as one of your hands comes up to rest in his hair. the sensation is so intense that you almost don't notice geto sliding your panties down your legs until you feel the cool air against your damp lips.

gojo continues his ministrations, sucking your nipple into his mouth and tonguing it hard, nipping when you let out a low groan. geto spreads your legs and settles between them, kneeling on the bed. dark head bent, he drops lingering kisses up your legs, all the way from your calves up to your inner thighs. his lips are warm on your skin and you're absolutely throbbing, aching for it as he gets closer to your burning core.

gojo has switched to your other breast and geto is pressing butterfly kisses to the soft flesh of the inside of your thighs, sucking tender hickeys into the thin skin. the sensations are too much and not enough all at once, overwhelming your senses but not quite satisfying the ache inside you for more.

geto's mouth is everywhere except where you want it most— he's at the crease of your thigh, at the seam of your hip, the bump of your pubic bone. his breath ghosts over your slick lips, a sly smile lifting the corner of his mouth when you buck up, chasing. as gently as a butterfly beats its wings, he circles your clit with the pad of a fingertip, not quite touching it in the way he knows you want him to. you can’t hold back the whine that escapes your mouth, and geto’s lips quirk, his expression amused. his hands are warm on your hips and it feels like coming home when his lips finally meet yours, lapping up the slickness in your folds like a man parched.

gojo has released your nipples and he's positioned himself behind you to prop your upper body up, nibbling on your earlobes with his palms still cupping your breasts. geto's dark head is buried between your legs and he's eating you out like he was fucking born for it, alternating between dipping his tongue inside of you and sealing his lips around your clit. sucking down rasping breaths, you see stars when his mouth forms a vacuum around your clit and he sucks hard , your thighs clamping around his head as your hand fists in his hair.

geto hasn't stopped, arms beneath your thighs to hold your hips down as he pushes his tongue deeper inside your sopping centre. a choked-off moan falls from your lips and gojo snickers into the skin of your neck, his naked chest and the fabric of the tie pressed into your spine.

"you're enjoying dessert, aren't you, suguru?" gojo's voice is lilting and you would retort but you can't, too busy gasping for air as geto just hums in agreement, relentlessly tonguing your clit.

gojo begins leaving lovebites all around your shoulders and you can feel his fingers twisting and pinching your nipples, the sensation heightened by geto feasting between your legs. you're so wet that his chin is glistening with it, a few strands of his dark hair slipping out and falling into his face as he eats you out with vigour, the tendons in his jaw tensing from effort.

“oh god, don’t stop,” you cry out, fists clenched in the sheets. gojo chuckles behind you, tweaking a nipple and laughing when you spasm.

“did you hear that, suguru? i think you’re gonna have to step it up.”

without taking his mouth off your clit, his long fingers slide so smoothly inside of you that they may as well have been there all along. pumping shallowly, he continues to suck on your clit, pulsing his lips and flicking his tongue around the most sensitive part of you.

you keen, high and loud, and geto doesn't need words to understand, pressing a final kiss to your clit and leaning back to thrust his hand properly. he crooks his fingers, searching, and you cry out when he hits your spot, toes curling so hard it hurts.

"right there, huh?" geto murmurs knowingly, fingering you ruthlessly. you ride the high, sparks bursting behind your eyelids. the solid warmth from behind you suddenly disappears as gojo lowers you onto the bed, and you crack an eye open just in time to see him grin devilishly and press his fingers down onto your mound, right above where geto's hand is inside of you.

the combination of inner and outer pressure is too much and you mewl, legs jerking as your walls contract and a sensation you've never felt before washes over you, almost like your body is releasing a gush of liquid.

"we got her to squirt," gojo declares smugly, continuing to press down as geto works you through your orgasm. you're arching off the bed, sheets clenched in your hands as wave after wave of pleasure crashes down upon you, an infinite tsunami upon a helpless shore.

after what feels like forever, you slump back down, chest heaving. geto gently withdraws his hand from between your legs and licks his fingers while gojo lifts his hand to release the pressure from your pelvis. you lift your head up to see gojo standing at the foot of the bed, palming the front of his pants, face scrunched up in want. geto looks to be faring no better as he gets up to stand beside gojo, bulge straining against his jeans.

"i think it's time we got these off," geto says, unzipping his pants. gojo shucks off his slacks in one go, ripping off the tie that somehow remained around his neck throughout all of this. suddenly they're both down to their underwear, black boxers tented.

they glance at you and then back at each other before gojo drops to his knees on the floor, pulling geto's boxers down with him. you watch, spent, as gojo takes geto into his mouth, swallowing around him and fondling his sack. geto tips his head back and rakes a hand through gojo’s hair, peering down at his head bobbing on his length. you're enjoying the show as geto thrusts shallowly into his mouth, his abs flexing with the motion.

gojo’s adam’s apple is bobbing as his throat works, and he keeps going until geto's breathing grows laboured, only stopping when geto gestures with his chin toward you on the bed. gojo releases him with a lewd pop and barely has a second to collect himself before geto's pushing him onto his back, stripping off his underwear and taking him down into his throat in one go. you watch, amazed, at what appears to be geto's total lack of a gag reflex.

"throat goat," gojo remarks fondly, reaching down to thread his hand through geto's dark hair. geto slaps his thigh and gojo chuckles, breaking off to groan when geto urges him on, pushing his ass forward to get him to fuck his throat.

you're still recovering from your climax when geto releases gojo from his mouth, wiping at the saliva around his lips. gojo glances at you, grinning as he pushes himself up onto his palms.

"want a turn?" he asks impishly, gesturing at geto, who stands up. you raise yourself into a sitting position up by the elbows and regard the two men in front of you and their well-endowed assets. gojo is longer but slightly thinner, like a water bottle. geto is girthier and thicker, like a beercan. you'll happily take both.

"i think she's got another orgasm in her, don't you?" geto climbs onto the bed and tugs you onto your hands and knees, gojo going behind you. "why don't you see what you can do about that, satoru."

you're gazing hungrily at the girthy length of geto, veiny and uncut up close. he's still glistening with gojo's saliva as you lick the tip, geto's palm coming to rest on your head. you're taking him down inch by inch as you feel gojo settle behind you, shivering as he trails a finger through the wetness gathered at your lips.

one hand gripping your hip, he lines himself up and pushes inside your wet heat until he's flush against your ass, forcing all the air out of your lungs. in the same instant, you reach the base of geto's length, full at both ends. you moan around him as gojo begins to thrust in earnest, the sound of skin slapping skin reverberating around the room as he fucks you relentlessly.

"shit," gojo says lowly, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "you're taking me like a champ."

geto's eyes are closed, his palm resting on your hair. you pull back, flattening your tongue beneath the head while your hand jacks off whatever your mouth can't reach. gojo changes angles and you can suddenly feel him in your chest, his tip so deeply inside of you that it's kissing your cervix.

you pick up the pace, tonguing the slit, and geto is openly groaning, gripping your hair hard enough that it hurts. you don't mind it— you encourage it, in fact, while gojo's fucking you hard enough that your walls will surely remember his shape. every time he brings you back onto his length, heady pleasure shoots through your veins, your toes tingling hotly. you can already feel another orgasm coming as gojo reaches a hand between your legs, searching for your clit. he twists his fingers evilly, not letting up when you let out a muffled moan around geto's girth.

"i think she likes it," gojo says, smirk audible in his voice. he rubs in tight, deliberate circles, his hand quickening as you stop sucking and just breathe, eyes rolling back in your head when he snaps his hips and simultaneously hits your spot.

you hear him laugh breathlessly, thrusts hindered somewhat as your walls spasm around him, his pace slowing as you come for the second time. he fucks you through it, pulling out when it becomes too much. gojo smacks your ass, laughing at the surprised yelp that exits your mouth.

"couldn't resist, princess," he winks at you, coming around to the front of the bed. again, they swap positions and geto moves to the back, warm hands settling around your waist. he brings you backwards onto him, your shoulder blades against his chest. he's warm, so warm, and you melt into his arms. he presses soft kisses into your neck, humming when you sigh contentedly and tip your head onto his shoulder.

"aren't you glad you had that sandwich?" he murmurs into your skin, hands roving all over your pliant body. the sound of a cap opening interrupts your reply, which was just going to be an mmhm-hmm anyways. you blink, watching gojo squeeze lube onto his fingers and stroke geto between your legs, whose eyelids flutter closed at the sensation.

after a few moments, gojo releases geto, who then lifts you up like you weigh nothing, settling you above him on your knees, one braced on either side of his hips. your back is still to his chest, and you turn your head to meet his gaze, cocking your head in question.

"lube?" you say, watching geto chuckle. he smooths a hand down your side, soothing.

"i know you don't have any problems getting wet," he smiles, gaze flickering down your body between your legs. he looks up, eyes dark. "but we can't have you feeling raw just yet."

your heart jumps in your chest when a hand grabs your chin, turning your head to face the front. you're met with the full mast of gojo, who's up on his knees in front of you, his shins pressing into the bed. it happens all at once and geto is lowering you down as you swallow around gojo, the taste of precome heady on your tongue. you sink down onto geto for what feels like forever, his tip reaching towards your ribs.

if gojo fucked you relentlessly, geto fucks you like god himself commanded him, a divine task ordained straight from the heavens above. he bounces you up and down, pushing his hips up to meet yours on every thrust. your palms are braced on gojo's thighs and you can barely breathe around him, glancing up to see his eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he wantonly pumps his hips into your mouth, sliding his length along your tongue.

geto's hands are vicelike around your waist, his hot, hard length stretching your walls every time he brings you down onto his hips. they're working in tandem, each fucking a pair of your lips, and it’s so fucking good that you could cry. you’re absolutely stuffed at both ends, hot pleasure emanating from your core to spread throughout your body every time geto pushes back into you. another orgasm is cresting on the horizon as he picks up the pace, jackrabbiting his hips as he lifts you up impossibly higher, the bed creaking from the combined force of their movements.

"god, you're tight," geto grunts, punctuated by the sound of his balls slapping your ass. "so tight, just for me."

you're so close, you're so fucking close, and you've stopped sucking entirely as geto fucks you harder, your breasts bouncing in time with the motion. gojo suddenly pulls out from your mouth and you don't have time to react before he drops into a kneeling position and grasps your jaw in his hand, bringing your lips to meet his own. gojo slides his tongue inside your mouth, his hand moving up from your jaw to hold your head as his tongue caresses yours.

you moan into his mouth, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you pull him flush to your chest while geto continues to fuck you, bliss radiating outward from where you’re joined. your nipples are pebbled against the smooth planes of gojo's clavicle and he deepens the kiss, fingers weaving into your hair as his other hand slips down to dance along your overly sensitive clit.

geto tilts his hips and floods every sense in your body with white-hot ecstasy as he rails your spot, the curve of gojo’s smirk sharp against your mouth while his fingertips stroke your clit. you drench the bed for the second time that night as you come, back arching in geto's grip as gojo's fingertips tease the lips stretched around geto's girth, still pistoning in and out of you.

"nice, we got a second squirt," gojo crows, eyes crinkling in mirth as he draws back. he raises his hand for a high-five and you don't have to look to know geto is rolling his eyes as he slaps gojo's hand. geto slowly brings you down to lean onto him, his chest rising and falling from exertion. he's still buried inside of you and you can barely think through the haze in your mind, sagging limply into his arms. geto supports your weight, whispering quietly into your hair as you come down.

"that's it, just like that." his voice is gentle, unlike the way he was moving inside of you moments ago. he twines his arms around your waist as you both catch your breath, the broad muscle of his chest firm against your back. your eyes are closed and your entire body is relaxed, held up by geto's sturdy frame.

"you guys didn't come," you manage to say, voice thick. you feel geto's chest rumble as he laughs, low and deep in your ear.

"that's very kind of you to be concerned," he says, soft smile audible in his voice. "but it's all good. we like to draw things out."

you feel the bed dip as gojo climbs back on, the click of a bottle cap echoing in the quiet of the room.

"we're going to give you a bit of a break," gojo tells you, voice teasing. "you can relax and enjoy the show."

you blink blearily, limbs liquified as geto lifts you off and carefully sets you to his side, wrapping an arm around you as you curl up beside him. you watch while gojo lubes him up again, twisting his wrist knowingly when he meets the head. gojo glances up and they share a private moment, conversing without words. you're content to watch as an intimate smile graces geto's features and gojo leans forward to peck him on the lips, still stroking all the while.

geto withdraws his arm from around you, sitting up to settle gojo on top of his thighs. he spreads gojo's legs over his own, their faces close enough to share the same breath. the lube reappears and gojo leans his weight onto his palm, watching as geto squeezes some over his fingers. they're in an incredibly intimate position, almost lotus-like, legs folded together and gojo's other hand braced on geto's shoulder.

geto slides the first finger inside of gojo with so much confidence that it's obvious they've done this a thousand times before. gojo's spine arches and he exhales hard, eyelids fluttering shut as geto starts stretching him out. geto's dark eyes are trained on his disappearing finger, and you can see gojo's hand tensing around his shoulders. gojo's shaky breaths echo around the room when geto adds another finger, thrusting with more urgency. there's a squelching sound every time his hand meets gojo's ass, and you watch in awe as gojo takes it like he was fucking born for nothing else.

they're both hard as hell, and you're starting to wonder if it's getting painful. you don't have time to contemplate this thought for long before geto's up to three fingers and he changes the angle of his hand, gojo's body jerking violently as geto deliberately hits his spot. geto cranes his neck to suckle at gojo’s nipple, smirking into his chest when he mewls. he squeezes gojo's ass with his free hand and continues pressing his spot as gojo spasms, his lips parted in a soundless moan.

geto carefully withdraws his hand, kissing gojo softly on the lips before taking his wrists and pulling him up onto his knees. geto climbs off the bed, going to stand behind gojo. his eyes flicker over to you and you meet his gaze, cloudy with want. geto doesn't look away as he pushes himself inside of gojo, his arms wrapping around gojo's torso to tug him up against his chest. he starts thrusting carefully, letting gojo adjust to the feeling of his full length inside of him.

you can feel yourself getting wet again as geto finally closes his eyes, pressing his mouth to gojo's neck as he pulls out slowly, bringing his hips forward again. you're brimming with hunger as you watch their bodies move together, geto's one hand wrapped around gojo's throat and the other pressed flat to his chest, holding him upright. gojo is making low noises, quiet ungh-ungh-unghs as geto fills him up, again and again.

"who do you belong to?" geto grunts into his neck, hand tightening around his throat, gojo’s adam’s apple protruding between his fingers.

gojo breathes out a shuddering exhale, his knees and shins pressed into the mattress. his entire weight is leaned onto geto, who's somehow supporting him and fucking him simultaneously.

gojo bites his lip, furrowing his brow. you can see the muscles of geto's ass flexing as he plunges into gojo, not letting up for even a second.

"well," gojo rasps, sounding like he's going for contemplative but ending up wanton instead. "you'll just have to ask george clooney."

geto’s balls slap gojo's ass when he delivers a particularly punishing thrust, pushing all the air out of gojo in a loud huff.

"are you sure about that?" geto sounds remarkably composed for a man who's inside another man's ass.

gojo is only able to make a noise of affirmation in response, a strained uh-huh through his teeth. his giggle is breathless when geto releases his throat to slap his cheek, the thwack loud in the quiet.

"why don't you try again," geto's voice is rough and he changes angles, finding exactly what he's searching for when gojo's body jackknifes into his chest.

"fine, you got me,” gojo moans, throwing his head back onto geto's shoulder. "tell george that i'm —ah!— cheating on him with matt damon.”

this was clearly not the answer geto was looking for. he quickens his pace, slamming his hips hard enough into gojo’s ass to bruise. reaching a hand around to wrap around gojo’s length, his fist is a blur as he strokes in time with his thrusts.

“who do you belong to?” geto says again, strained but still pointed, leaving no room for argument. gojo’s body is strung taut, every muscle tensed with his mouth open and face pinched tight as the bed shakes.

you can only stare as the veins pop out of gojo's neck, abs contracting with his back arched against geto's chest. "i h— i heard idris elba is free— agh!"

geto releases him and pulls out in the same second, taking a full step backwards. gojo lets out a sound that sounds like a sob, body folding in half at the sudden, overwhelming emptiness.

geto continues to stand there, unmoving and unflinching. he's hard as a rock but he looks like he could wait forever as gojo curls in on himself, distraught by the lack of sensation.

gojo whimpers brokenly and brings a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound, his body visibly aching with need. "you," he sobs, on the verge of tears when it finally comes out. "only you. always you."

geto nods, just once, and the relief on gojo's face is palpable when geto yanks him upright and pushes back inside of him in one snap of his hips. geto's rhythm is harsh as he takes gojo again in his other hand, squeezing from root to tip. geto swipes his thumb over the head and gojo makes a choked-off noise, turning his head over his shoulder to tangle their tongues together.

"brat," geto says into his mouth, to which gojo can only whine in agreement.

they're both breathing heavily and it's the hottest thing you've ever fucking seen, the pleasure visible on both of their faces. gojo is biting his lip, eyes scrunched shut, and sweat is beading at geto's temple as he moves, his brows creased. gojo's mouth falls open and he keens, high and loud, body rocking into geto's as they have sex in front of you.

you just met him a few hours ago but you can tell gojo is close, his breaths growing ragged and moans increasing in pitch as he nears climax. right before the event horizon, geto lets go of gojo, stilling his movements but remaining inside of him. gojo lets out an aggravated groan and cracks an eye open, turning his head to look at you.

"this is where you come in, princess," he manages, speech almost slurred. "come here."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. scampering over, you comply when gojo motions for you to turn around. his grip is tight on your ass when he brings your hips back, the hard length of him pressing into the wetness pooled between your legs. he slips inside of your tight heat effortlessly, filling you to the hilt as geto starts fucking him again. gojo is stretching you out and you love the feeling of being so damn full, head hanging low and breasts swaying with the motion as geto fucks gojo and gojo fucks you.

the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you're seeing stars as gojo makes high-pitched sounds, geto's panting filling up the spaces in between his whimpers. it's quite possibly the most erotic thing you've ever experienced, having one man inside of you while another man is inside of him. you can't help but wonder how it feels for gojo, filling up one person with someone else filling him up simultaneously.

they're moving in time with each other, and you hear gojo's breathing become frantic as he gasps. the force of geto's thrusts are pushing him forwards into you, nudging his head repeatedly into your cervix. gojo's palms are hot on your hips, and you feel more than see his body tense up as he approaches orgasm. a loud gasp is pushed out of his chest when geto reaches around to pinch his nipples.

gojo chokes on air, rutting forward into you and pushing himself back onto geto in the same moment. he sounds wrecked with sensation as geto doesn't stop for a second, pounding into him while you clench and milk him for all he's worth.

"fuck, suguru, i'm gonna— fuck, i'm coming," gojo cries, spilling deep inside of you. geto fucks him through it, pushing gojo's load deeper inside of you as he keeps coming. gojo has stopped moving and just rides out his climax, grip loosening around your hips. geto's forcing him forwards into you over and over again, the motion bracketed by gojo's unfettered groans and his own harsh panting. after a long minute, you feel geto pull out of gojo and gojo pull out of you, the lewd noises juxtaposed against the soft music still playing.

gojo flops down onto the bed beside you, chest heaving. geto disappears into the bathroom only to reappear moments later with a damp towel, which gojo catches in one hand. he goes again into the bathroom and you hear the sound of the shower starting up.

"what's he doing?" you ask, watching gojo's chest rise and fall. he holds up a finger, slowing his breathing before he answers you.

"cleaning himself up," he says between lungfuls of air. he turns his head to look at you and winks. "he needs to wash up for what we have planned next with you."

you don't have time to ponder exactly what that could entail before gojo suddenly sits up and manhandles you onto your back, his hands pushing your collarbones. you can feel his release leaking out of you, slippery in between your thighs.

"remember what i said about asking nicely?" his blue eyes are piercing as they bore into yours. gojo is close enough that you can count his eyelashes, and you catch the lingering scent of ysl’s black opium cologne. you swallow, toes tingling at the sheer proximity.

he leans into you and you're dumbstruck by the broadness of him as he cages you in, dipping his head down to brush his nose against yours. barely breathing, you have to bite back a whimper as gojo’s mouth moves to your throat.

"manners are important, you know." sucking hungrily, he spreads your legs with a knee, reaching down to clean up the mess he made inside of you.

"shocked that you would know, seeing as you don't have any," you choke out, nails scrabbling at his shoulder blades while he wipes you clean, the light touch of gojo's hand stark in contrast to the teeth at your throat. you feel him grin into your skin.

"i'm demonstrating them right now, aren’t i?" you can't tell if you're wet from him coming inside of you or from the way he's touching you, once again too much and not enough all at once.

"don't gentlemen always clean up the messes they make?" gojo asks rhetorically, lips moving on your skin. "i'm nothing if not a gentleman."

"and i'm the goddamn president," your voice wobbles but it comes out sufficiently derisory for you in this moment. "since we're telling jokes now."

gojo bites, sucking hard enough to leave a purpled bruise. you can't stop your hand from twisting in his hair, your body arching up into him.

"i know what you want," gojo’s voice is low as he tilts your jaw up for better access, his mouth hot on your neck. he throws the soiled towel aside without looking. "and i'm not going to give it to you until you ask. nicely. "

he moves down your body, leaving bruising kisses along your sternum, your ribs, your hipbones. his palms are cool when they press into your knees, pushing your legs apart so he can kneel between them. gojo looks up at you from beneath his lashes, daring you to retort.

"i know you can do it," he drawls, voice lilting in condescension. he grazes a finger through your slick folds, darting away when your eyelids flutter. "all you need to do is ask."

sheets clenched in your hands, you bite your lip. looking down, you appraise the cocky grin on gojo's face, his eyebrow raised in challenge. he's a bitch, for sure, but it takes one to know one.

"no," is all you say, watching his gaze darken. "i don't think i will."

gojo's mouth is above your clit in a flash, breath hot on your slick lips. your hips buck up involuntarily and he leans back, laughing. you kick at his chest with a foot, resisting the urge to pout.

"come on, it won't kill you," he says mockingly. "it might even do you good to learn some manners."

his hands are firm on your hipbones and he dips his head back down, breathing along your lips. every fibre of your being is on fire and you want it so bad it hurts, throbbing hotly at your core but you will not give him the goddamn satisfaction.

he presses open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs, snickering at the sharp inhale through your nose when he scrapes the thin skin with his teeth. an accidental moan slips from your mouth when he sucks a hickey into your hip, the hand that flies up to stifle it coming too late.

heart racing, a devious smile suddenly quirks your lips. "i don't need to ask," you say, tone just as mocking as gojo's. "to know geto is better at eating me out."

gojo stills against you, his mouth hot on your skin. he draws back slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. his grip tightens around your hips and you meet his gaze unwaveringly, watching as a shadow passes over his features.

he cocks his head, looking all the world like a predator about to snatch his prey.

"you know," he begins, and there's nothing joking or lighthearted in his tone this time. "suguru got to have his dessert, but i never got to have mine."

there's no time to ready yourself before gojo's mouth is on you, his tongue sliding inside to your centre without hesitation. your hips jerk up and he's holding you down as he licks into you, tongue caressing your walls. you cry out, one hand gripping the sheets and the other twisted in his hair. you're struck by the thought that he can probably taste himself but judging from the way he's eating you out, he clearly doesn't care.

gojo's head is moving beneath your hand as he continues ravaging you, pulling back only for a second to release one of your hips. when his hand enters you, his fingers somehow feel even deeper than his entire length did ten minutes ago. gojo is unrelenting, pushing his index and middle fingers in and out so quickly you're choking on air. every nerve in your body has been set alight, silvery ecstasy coursing through your veins like drugs as he doesn’t stop.

he's suctioned his lips around your clit, not coming up for air as his hand pumps inside of you. gojo's mouth is warm and wet as he licks and he doesn't let up even when you spasm, his forearm firm across your pelvis to hold you down while his fingers hit your spot, again and again.

you can't even moan because you can't breathe. your eyes are scrunched shut and your back is arched off the bed. you don't have to look to feel his nose pressed into the top of your mound as gojo eats you out like he's fallen ill and your folds are hiding the antidote.

you're just about to come and he stops all at once, removing his hand with a squelch and releasing your clit from between his lips. you blink blearily, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you peer down at him. gojo's got a challenging look on his face, staring up at you resolutely.

"say please," he says, and you're about to shake your head when he leans closer to you, lips gleaming and chin slick. he trails a finger through your folds, dripping from how close you are and his own saliva. gojo's fingertip circles your clit without touching it, his touch featherlight.

"if you want to come," his voice is low, without mirth. "say it."

every cell in your body has been besieged by want and it seems like he can tell, the little shit. the corner of his mouth curls upwards when he pulls back and your body involuntarily lurches up, like it's following him. you're stubborn and you hate losing but you also really, really fucking need to finish under his tongue.

you bite your lip, the haze in your mind leaving you thoughtless save for one aching need. gojo's blue eyes flash and you're suddenly reminded of the snake, right before it entices eve into eating the apple.

his mouth is set in a firm line, expression resolute. there’s fire simmering beneath your skin and you’re absolutely burning with it, tossing your pride aside as the word finally leaves your mouth.

"please," you choke out, and his mouth splits into a smug grin, teeth shining as brightly as his hair. you only have a moment to feel intense annoyance before gojo's lips are back on yours and the feeling is instantly replaced with mind-numbing pleasure, every endorphin in your brain releasing all at once.

he's thrown your legs over his shoulders, jaw working furiously while his tongue licks into you. gojo's long fingers slip back inside of you seamlessly, aided by how wet you are and his saliva. his other hand leaves your hip and he spreads your folds with his fingers, pushing your clit out and creating the perfect conditions for him to latch his lips around it and suck.

"oh, god," you wail, both hands fisting in his air and toes curling over gojo’s shoulders. you’re heaving shallow breaths but he doesn't stop, his fingers plunging in and out of you as he sucks hard, cheeks hollowing and teeth nipping gently at the bud. you’re absolutely drowning in it, choking on air and limbs jerking when you cry out and come. your thighs squeeze his head and he probably can't breathe but you don't care and neither does he as gojo basically lets you fuck his face, taking all of you and then some.

it just keeps going, and going, and going. gojo doesn't come up for air, suckling at your clit even as you sag back onto the bed, spent. he slowly withdraws his head from between your legs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. geto reappears, his body damp, and you crack an eye open to appraise his lithe form.

"she said i'm better at eating her out," gojo winks conspiratorially, waggling his eyebrows at you and hopping off the bed to stand up.

you don't have the strength to rebut but you don’t have to because geto rolls his eyes, climbing onto the bed to help you sit up. "i'm fairly certain she didn't."

geto reaches into a bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of water. he unscrews the cap and raises it to your lips, his other hand supporting your back as he helps you drink.

"we're giving you another break," geto's voice is soft but his eyes are dark as you nod weakly, water trickling down your chin. geto’s touch is tender on your jaw as he thumbs at the droplets, taking the bottle from you when you're done and propping you up with a pillow. he leans in close, his loose hair falling into his face, to stroke your cheek, gaze never leaving yours.

"watch closely, okay?" he says, and you have the feeling that it isn't a question, despite being phrased as one. you're sitting on one side of the bed, which is massive enough that all three of you and probably a few more could lay comfortably side-by-side with enough room to spare. gojo turns on the fireplace, the embers crackling to life as he draws the curtains closed, casting the room in a warm glow.

gojo walks back to the bed with palpable intent guiding his footsteps, blue eyes fixed on geto. with eyes only for each other, you watch as gojo climbs onto the bed and on top of geto, whose palm has come to rest around gojo's waist, their gazes locked.

a soft sigh falls from geto's lips when gojo begins pressing tender kisses down his neck. touching him in an achingly affectionate way that seems almost uncharacteristic, gojo's hands are reverent as they hold geto’s body close. they're both achingly hard again but there's nothing rushed about the way gojo's lips are moving against his skin, every hitched breath and shuddering exhale deafeningly loud in the silence of the room.

gojo takes his time, making sure there’s not an inch of geto’s body left unmarked by his lips. he’s everywhere— at geto’s ribs, his navel, his thighs, his hipbone. the sound of geto sighing wafts into your ears like smoke, and gojo parts his legs slowly, palms on the inside of his knees. you watch gojo kneel between his legs like he’s praying, taking a long moment to stare up at geto, who meets his gaze unblinkingly. there’s a long moment where they just breathe together, having another silent conversation meant for the two of them alone.

you have the inescapable sense that you’re being let in on something precious, confirmed by the careful way gojo dips his head down in between geto’s thighs. he brings geto’s legs over his shoulders and geto reaches down to stroke his hair, carding his fingers through the soft strands. from where you’re sitting beside them, gojo’s lowered head is obscured by geto’s thighs, but the way geto inhales sharply through his nose lets you ascertain the moment gojo’s tongue enters him.

the way gojo licks into him is almost alien to the feral manner in which he was eating you out earlier, all tender kisses and measured swipes of his tongue. it’s like he’s a different person, his touch delicate on geto’s skin as he keeps his legs spread, head moving unhurriedly between his thighs. geto’s eyelids have fluttered closed, his dark hair pooled around his head as gojo continues lapping at him like gentle waves against a serene shore.

the only noises in the room are geto’s slow breaths and the wet sounds of gojo’s mouth, geto’s hardness untouched between them. he hasn’t made any move to touch himself and neither has gojo, and you watch as his body ripples with bliss, toes flexing over gojo’s shoulders.

after several long minutes, gojo lifts his head, dropping soft kisses up geto’s thigh as he lays his legs back down onto the bed. geto is breathing heavily, forearm slung over his eyes, as gojo leans over to open the bedside drawer, pulling out another bottle of water. he tips his head back, pouring water into his mouth and swishing it around before swallowing, capping the bottle and closing the drawer. he angles his body back over geto, touch featherlight across his clavicle.

geto shivers when gojo ghosts a finger down his sternum, closing his eyes when gojo takes his lips in his own. he has one hand on gojo's shoulder, the other sliding up into his hair as their mouths move languidly together. gojo has tugged one of geto's legs around his waist, slow and deliberate, not at all similar to the way he did the same to you earlier. geto arches into him, and their bodies are so intertwined that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, like they've merged into one.

they're so close, in fact, that it takes you a full minute to realize gojo has been inside of geto for quite some time, his hips moving fluidly as geto wraps his arms around his shoulders and crosses his ankles behind gojo's back. his thrusts are measured, unhurried, and geto's eyes close when gojo dips his head down to nuzzle at his neck.

judging from the way he takes all of gojo effortlessly, you think that geto must have prepped in the shower. from your vantage point, you can see the muscles of gojo's back shifting as he moves, geto exhaling loudly as gojo gently picks up the pace, thrusting slowly like they could do this for the next ten, hundred, or even thousand years. the only thing you can hear are their measured breaths, the bed silent as gojo carefully brings his hips forward again and again.

geto makes a low noise and gojo understands, leaning back to lift geto's ankles onto his shoulders. it's only after he fills up geto for the dozenth time that gojo dips down, his hips never faltering, to capture geto's lips in his own. their mouths move against one another as their bodies are joined, geto's palms pressed flat to gojo's chest and gojo's hands wrapped around geto's thighs.

you watch them make love and it's breathtakingly intimate, breath hitching in your throat when they break apart and geto tucks a strand of gojo’s hair behind his ear. a slow smile spreads over gojo's face, nothing at all like the feral grin that split his lips earlier. he presses a tender kiss to the inside of geto’s calf, tilting his hips up and and letting out a soft chuckle when geto inhales sharply and his eyes snap shut, toes curling and fingers flexing against gojo's chest.

he still hasn't reached between geto's legs and you're starting to think geto must have the stamina of a fucking horse after being sucked and fucked both ways. geto opens his eyes and he meets gojo's gaze, who once again doesn't need words to understand. he pulls out of geto as smoothly as he entered him, climbing off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

geto sighs deeply, still on his back. for a long minute it's just the two of you in the quiet, and you twitch, heat pooling between your legs. he's on top of you in the next moment, pushing away the pillow supporting your body to lay you flat on the bed. "you were watching, right?"

you nod, thinking that it must be evident from how wet you are. geto's hands are braced on either side of your head and he's pulled your legs over his hips, his hair tickling your neck as his head bows down. he's radiating warmth and you catch a whiff of the same versace cologne, musky as he licks an unhurried stripe up your neck.

the energy in the room is charged and you watch his biceps tense, your gaze dropping to the firm muscle of his chest as the firelight lends his body an otherworldly halo. tilting your chin up, geto doesn't look away when he slides into you, his hips meeting yours in one deliberate thrust. your world has been reduced to one point of contact and you're melting into oblivion as geto stays unmoving deep inside of your wet heat, anchored by your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

you're staring so deeply into his eyes that you could drown as he just stays there, completely still as your walls clench around him. your mouth is an inch from his own, breaths mingling in the quiet. the room is completely silent save for the distant hum of the shower and the crackle of the fireplace, tempered by your shallow breathing. geto looks at you through hooded eyelids, tingles shooting down to your toes as he visibly holds himself back, trembling with the effort. you’re acutely aware of your heartbeat, thundering in your ears.

when geto finally draws back and brings himself into you again, it's so good you could cry. the sex is made even more intense by the way he continues to stare through you, dark eyes glittering. never breaking eye contact, he purposefully snaps his hips again, and again, and again, each measured thrust metered by the sighs that escape your lips. your hands slide down from his neck and you can feel the muscle and sinew of his back shifting while he moves, your every sense overtaken by him as he continues to roll his hips. every time his head brushes your cervix your body undulates with pleasure, reducing you to a puddle in his arms.

geto lowers his head, breath hot against your neck, and you think about the fact that he’s the only one who hasn’t come yet. your bodies are pressed together and you can feel every inch of him as he moves inside of you, deliberate and restrained. you can tell he’s yearning for more but he doesn’t let himself have it, tensely grasping your jaw when you arch up into his chest. he doesn’t pick up the pace even when you rest your hands on his ass, the muscle flexing beneath your fingers as he just keeps going, each thrust calculated and purposeful when he slides in and out of you. chest to chest, you breathe with him, his body firm beneath your palms. he's staring endlessly into your eyes, his own so dark that they could hold the universe.

you think you could come, just like this, and it's almost like geto can read your thoughts because he stops all at once, pulling out and leaving you devastatingly empty. you’re aching at the loss but distracted by gojo as he suddenly reappears, water dripping in rivulets down his chest. geto holds a hand out behind him, accepting the lube without looking.

"you said you were good with everything, right?" geto turns to glance at you, who can once again only nod in response. geto takes your hand to bring you into an upright position, gojo going to sit behind you and it's reminiscent of before, with his damp skin pressed to your shoulder blades and geto between your legs.

geto squeezes lube onto his fingers, rubbing his palms together to warm them up. he looks up at you through his lashes, dark and daring.

you nod, just once, and geto’s first finger enters your ass with so much confidence that it feels like this is his fucking profession. gojo's palms are again around your breasts, mouth hot on your nape. your breath hitches in your throat when geto adds another finger, scissoring them inside of your ass, his other hand tight on your thigh. groaning low and long, your palms come up to rest on top of gojo's hands as his tongue laps wetly at your skin. he suddenly bites at your shoulder and you don't have the energy to swat at him, making a harrumph sound when he chuckles into your neck.

"you're up to three fingers now, did you know that?" geto says quietly, and you glance down at his wrist as it moves between your legs. damn, he's right.

geto's other hand smooths down your thigh, palm warm on your skin. "you're doing so good."

you can feel geto moving his hand inside of you as gojo presses a lingering kiss to your nape, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest, his legs encasing both of yours. his warmth envelops you as you just breathe, geto's fingers stretching you out.

you feel gojo smile into your skin. "the little lady must be tired, huh?"

your eyes are closed but you make a hmph noise, still lucid enough to retort. "i'm not a little lady, you dickhead."

gojo laughs, a hot puff of air against your neck, his arms snug around your waist. "i was talking about your clit."

chuckling breathlessly, you tip your head onto gojo's shoulder as geto continues scissoring his fingers inside of you. "okay, you're not wrong with that one."

one of gojo's arms slips out from their embrace and he leans to the side, opening the bedside drawer. his other arm suddenly retracts from around you too and your eyes snap open as your hands are yanked behind you, the click of handcuffs thunderously loud when they lock around your wrists.

you swallow hard, tugging on the restraints behind your back. nope, they're tightly secured. your heart is racing as geto removes his hand from your ass, gifting you with a view of his muscled back as he stands up and walks into the bathroom.

"first time being cuffed?" gojo asks knowingly from behind you, tracing a finger down your arm. you shiver, nodding stutteringly to the empty space in front of you. gojo rotates you in his lap to face him, your thighs on top of his own. the scent of his cologne is distinct, the notes of vanilla intensified by your proximity.

gojo lowers his head to brush his nose against yours, and you absolutely thrill at the danger in his eyes when he leans back. "it takes a lot of trust," he says lowly, glancing down at your body. gojo looks up at you, gaze dark and rife with intent. "and we don't take that lightly."

he moves you both further down the bed, laying flat once he has enough room. you're sitting on his thighs and you feel him beneath your leg, hard and wanting.

geto's palms are cold and wet around your waist when they startle you from behind and you jolt, shuddering when he presses a lingering kiss to your nape. you're sopping again already and you want nothing more than to reach forward and snatch gojo by the shoulders to drag his lips onto yours but you can't.

wrists cuffed, your body is trapped between them with gojo at your front and geto at your back. icy anticipation shoots through your veins and lights a fire in your core. you're completely at their mercy now.

gojo sees it on your face and he doesn't make you ask this time as he lifts your thighs up to guide himself inside, not stopping until the flat plane of his hipbones are pressed against the swell of your ass. mouth wet on your neck, geto bites at your shoulder, reaching around to pinch a nipple before withdrawing his hand, the bed dipping as he climbs off.

gojo's grip is firm on your hips and your knees rest outside each of his thighs, wrists still bound behind your back. the next breath you release stutters as it leaves your lips, yet gojo doesn't move. you grind down onto him, lips puffy from overuse, and take the opportunity to luxuriate in being filled up. it's too fucking good, gojo nestled so deeply inside of you that you can feel him in your sternum.

he slowly raises your thighs up from below, bringing you back down just as carefully. you bite back a whimper, every sense heightened by the way gojo and geto can do absolutely whatever they want to you right now. he brings your hips together again, gradually picking up the pace when you openly groan, breasts bobbing as you ride him.

"she takes it so well, doesn't she?" geto says from behind you, the bed shifting as he climbs on again. gojo makes a noise of agreement, hands moving to your waist to steady you. geto cups your ass, urging you on to help you ride gojo more thoroughly.

"like she was born for it," gojo agrees, squeezing your waist in his hands. one of his fingertips wanders up to your breast, dancing around a nipple. you gasp, wrists straining against the cuffs as gojo retracts, his hand rejoining the other at your waist.

you're moving together and gojo is right there every time you sink back down, thrusting up to meet you. he was right, your clit is tired, and you think that maybe you could come from this alone if he just keeps going. there's a click of a cap, the sound of lube being pushed out of a bottle, but you barely hear it, your nerves strung tight with sensation.

all of a sudden, there are palms on your spine, pressing you down onto gojo’s chest as he continues pumping his hips, his balls making a lewd sound when they slap your ass. you have no choice but to comply and you choke on air as gojo doesn't stop, the angle changing when you slant forward and allowing him to hit your spot. with your wrists behind your back, you would have fallen onto him but gojo is holding you up, one palm warm around your waist and the other supporting your shoulder.

he's fucking you earnestly now, your face an inch above his own. gojo's breathing hard, sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat as your bodies undulate against each other. once again, you ache to take his lips in yours but he doesn't let you, keeping you in place as he keeps pounding himself into you. you’re drunk with it, throwing your head back as pleasure radiates out from your core.

there's movement behind you as geto rises up on his knees, one of his hands resting on your ass as it moves up and down. he pushes your spine down even more, raising your ass in the air and gojo is ready, meeting you with his tongue and licking into your mouth. ass up and face down, your veins are flooded with icy hot anticipation and you moan into his teeth, arms twisting futilely behind your back as the cuffs hold you in place.

time grates to a halt when geto's tip breaches your ass, splitting you open from behind. you choke against gojo's lips, who stops moving, breaking away to let geto enter you properly. he's still holding you up as your head falls forward, dropping towards your chest.

"you okay?" gojo's voice is soft but laden with concern, one of his hands coming up to grasp at your jaw. he lifts your chin to meet his eyes and you're in a daze, the pressure overwhelming as geto continues pushing into you for what feels like an eternity. you nod jerkily, chin moving in his hand, and gojo brings you down to his chest, holding you close as geto keeps going until he's fully inside you at the other end.

there's a long moment where you just breathe, face pressed into gojo's shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around you. if you thought you felt full before that was nothing compared to how you feel right now. you're absolutely stuffed to the brim and there's no room left in your lungs for oxygen, every cavern and crevice of your body filled to the brim with nothing but them.

it's not quite painful but it definitely is a lot, both men shoved in to the hilt. there's only a singular velvety wall separating them and you can feel gojo and geto pressed against each other inside of you. they're still not moving, gojo's palms smoothing up and down your back as he and geto let you adjust to their simultaneous penetration.

you shift your weight and your senses are instantly overwhelmed in a way you've never felt before, every fibre of your being set alight with sensation as hot ecstasy erupts throughout your body. drooping further into gojo's shoulder, you let out a primal groan, unable to produce speech. he makes a knowing noise deep in his throat, a low mhmm-hmm, and gently props you up, holding your torso above his own. the motion moves both of them inside of you and you have to bite back a genuine wail as you feel their thicknesses rub together, hot and hard between your walls.

"just tell us when," gojo says, supporting your entire body like you weigh nothing. geto's palms are warm on your hips from behind and he strokes, soothing. "there's no rush."

geto makes an affirmative sound, the noise loud in the pin-drop silence. you would say something but you're devastated by proximity, gojo inside of you one way and geto in another. your entire being has been subsumed and you're lost in the ocean of their bodies, drifting in the warmth of their hands, the slowness of their breaths, the distinct smell of expensive cologne and sex.

carefully patting your hip, you blink your eyes open as geto gently brings you to the surface. gojo is looking at you, unhurried and steady, and you can feel the same surety radiating from geto behind you.

you heave a shuddering breath, feeling them beneath your skin, in your bones, as they reach into the deepest caverns and crevices of your body. you've never been more certain of anything else in your life when you look at gojo’s face, exhaling loudly to say one word.

"move."

they don't have to be told twice. gojo pulls out of you in the same instant as geto, both snapping their hips forward to meet at the centre of you. the cry that escapes your mouth is deafening, and the sound is punched out of you again, and again, and again as they thrust together, filling you up beyond measure. you feel like you're going to overflow, brain short-circuiting and body sagging in gojo's hands as he keeps holding you up while he moves alongside geto.

geto quickens his pace and their timing changes, gojo plunging into you in the moment that geto draws himself back. you're not empty for a single second and you fucking love it, choking on air when gojo cranes his neck down to lick your areola. the sounds the three of you are making are absolutely filthy, heavy panting and skin slapping skin as your bodies move together. it's almost like gojo and geto are connected through you and you’re punch-drunk, body moving forwards and backwards on their lengths as they fuck you simultaneously.

you have hands all over you, geto's fingers digging into your hips tight enough that you'll have bruises tomorrow, gojo's arms wrapped around your torso with his palms flat on the skin of your back. you're delirious with it, eyes rolling back as gojo pushes you into a more upright position and in doing so shoves you onto geto, who thrusts forward at the same moment that gojo hits your spot. one of them inside of you was overwhelming but both feels world-ending, pleasure erupting from everywhere and flowing all the way into your fingers and toes.

you're utterly incapable of speech at this point and you're spewing nonsense; things that sound like words but aren't, guttural moans pouring out of you like rain. your breasts are bouncing furiously and you've never felt like this in your life, each man fucking one of your holes like it's his last day on earth.

arms spasming in the restraints, you keen, high and loud. something visceral has taken over you and the pace they've set inside of you is so much yet somehow still not enough. you need to touch yourself but you can't and you want more, you fucking need more.

"h—harder," you choke, straining against the cuffs. you're aching with desire and burning for release as your entire body is pulled taut by a string that threads through all three of you. "fuck me harder."

the atmosphere in the room changes immediately. gojo's eyes flash and his fingers flex around your waist, the bed shifting as he presses his heels into the mattress to pound into you from below. geto speeds up behind you, thrusting into your ass uninhibited. you can feel them sliding together inside of you and you're fucking choking on air, spluttering as they piston in out of you at light speed.

you're suddenly yanked backwards when a hand grabs you by the cuffs, geto's grip a vice around your wrists. he doesn't stop pushing himself inside of your ass, using your weight as leverage as he leans away to thrust deeper. his free hand seizes a fistful of your hair, pulling your head backwards and shooting tingles of prickly pleasure down to your toes. with your back bowed, you're basically suspended above gojo, geto's position and his hold on your wrists creating an equilibrium between the two of you that lets him support your weight.

the position has consequently raised your face above gojo’s mouth, who hungrily claims your lips with his own while he continues pulling your hips down onto himself from below. you're teary-eyed from sensory overload, gasping against gojo's lips as geto keeps snapping his hips forwards into you, your folds squelching lewdly as gojo does the same. the scent of their cologne and the smell of sex hangs heavy in the air, stifling your lungs as you struggle to suck down air.

“do—don’t,” you rasp into gojo’s mouth, drunk with the sensation of two hot, hard lengths moving together inside of you. “don’t —ungh— stop.”

the friction is delicious and it seems like geto thinks so too, his breaths growing laboured behind you. a gasp is punched out of your lungs when he releases your hair to slap your ass hard , the crack audible even amongst all the noises the three of you are making. geto lets go of your wrists to dig his fingers into your hips once more, forcing your spine into a slope as he brings you back onto himself at a punishing speed. gojo’s length keeps rubbing into his inside of you and geto is absolutely losing himself in it, fucking you carnally as you feel more than see him finally approach climax.

gojo breaks away and he isn't looking at you anymore, staring past your face at geto, whose eyes are scrunched shut as he jackrabbits his hips. the way he's moving and the sounds he's making are borderline animalistic, all grunts and heavy breathing. geto is unraveling, his movements turning frantic and you can't do anything but take it as he pushes into you over and over again, single-mindedly chasing his own release.

gojo is still thrusting up into you and from the way he's tensed up you can tell that he's close too, but he's not focused on your pleasure or his own right now. his eyes never leave geto, whose lips have parted as he lets himself pump his hips freely into your ass. your entire body jolts from the movement, anchored by gojo's firm arm around your waist and his length still moving inside of you.

"suguru," comes gojo's voice, pointed and direct. geto opens his eyes and looks at gojo, who's wearing the most serious expression you've ever seen on his face. gojo's tone leaves no room for argument when he speaks.

"come."

geto makes a strangled noise and then it's happening all at once, his rhythm stuttering as his balls tighten and he finally, finally orgasms. he's spurting hotly into your ass and it's neverending— geto just continues coming, filling you up with his seed as his body jerks violently, wracked with pleasure.

inside of you, gojo's length has continued to press against geto’s throughout his climax, and he doesn't stop thrusting even as geto comes down. he actually speeds up when geto begins to soften inside of your ass, sitting up and dragging you onto his lap after geto pulls out.

the desire to rub your clit is so overpowering that you feel like you might actually die. your head twists despairingly over your shoulder, trying to implore geto to take your cuffs off, when a firm hand grabs your chin and turns your head back around.

gojo's gaze is unwavering as he releases your chin to grab the flesh of your ass, thrusting up and ignoring your eyes blown wide in need.

"don't look at him," his voice is even as it cuts through the frenzied wail that escapes your clenched teeth. "look at me."

you're struggling to comply because you've hit your limit— it's all too fucking much, geto’s come is slippery between your cheeks and you’re aching so hard it hurts because you need to come now. you’re gasping so deeply that it sounds like you’re choking but he doesn't care, bouncing you in his lap even as you whine from oversensitivity.

"didn't you hear me?" it sounds like a question but gojo isn't asking. you can't form words, rendered incoherent by the hurricane of sensation. you can feel him getting close too but he supersedes his own desire to finish, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

gojo's fingers tighten around your jaw, his tone just as unforgiving.

"look. at. me. "

it's akin to weathering a torrential downpour when you muster up every ounce of strength left in your feeble body to open your eyes, meeting gojo's unblinking gaze. you're struggling to suck down air while he stares into your soul, slamming you down onto himself for the last time as he spills deep inside of you, coming so hard his eyes roll back in his head. you're still moving in his lap and you're babbling incoherently as he fills you to the brim, his load and geto's separated only by a thin wall inside of you.

gojo exhales harshly, pumping his hips through the aftershocks as you milk him dry. you're trying not to let the despair show outwardly on your face and you're tugging despondently at the cuffs, thrashing so hard in the restraints that your wrists are bruising. it's only because your eyes are open that you see the wicked grin suddenly quirk gojo's lips, and you're powerless to do anything as he abruptly shoves you backwards into geto's waiting arms.

"you didn't think we forgot, did you?" gojo asks devilishly. geto's hands are warm around your chest and his fingers are pinching your nipples as gojo thrusts up, hard, and directly rails your spot at the same moment his hand darts down to thumb at your swollen clit.

the tension inside your core snaps like a rubber band and the sensory processing centre in your brain implodes instantly, every cell in your body igniting all at once. the raw ecstasy that courses through your veins is so visceral that you feel high, floating somewhere outside of your body as it just doesn’t stop. you barely register that you’re releasing wave after wave of liquid around gojo as your limbs convulse helplessly against geto's chest, every fibre of your being utterly consumed by sensation. the last thing you hear before passing out is gojo's breathless laughter, blackness engulfing the edges of your vision as you fall endlessly into geto's arms.

*****

you don’t know how much time has passed when strong arms scoop you up, wrapping around your shoulders and under the backs of your knees, carrying your limp body like you weigh nothing. your hand falls toward the floor and you absently wonder when the cuffs were taken off, your other arm folded into a warm chest. head lolling towards a collarbone, the scent of jasmine permeates the corners of your subconscious. you’re distantly aware of being carried into the bathroom, cradled with painstaking care.

there’s movement around you, the sound of footsteps and taps being turned on, the slow rush of water as it fills up the tub. your eyes are still closed when you’re carefully passed from one pair of arms to another, enveloped by warm water as you’re settled against the smooth skin of a chest, arms wrapping securely around your middle.

you’re resting on top of firm thighs, enveloped by warmth. you would open your eyes but you can’t because your body isn’t listening, limbs unresponsive and head thick with cottonwool. low sounds are falling from your lips, incoherent murmurs punctuated by the air you forcibly drag into your lungs, made nearly impossible because every fibre of your being is utterly spent. you’re suspended in the water and in this moment in time, succumbing to the black hole created by the vortex of sensation. you’re anchored by the body holding you close, palms around your middle and skin against your spine. a soft kiss is dropped on your nape before your head is gently tilted onto the smooth plane of a shoulder, your throat exposed.

behind your head, there are hands lathering up your hair, working shampoo into your roots and massaging your scalp. you make a satisfied noise, deep in your throat as the scent of citrus fills the room. shampoo is smoothed all the way to the ends of your hair before the hands retract and you hear footsteps walk around to the other side of the tub, the water rising as another body steps in. once again, you’re passed to waiting arms, a hand settling around your midsection while the other supports your spine. another pair of hands begins to wash the product out of your hair from behind as you’re held chest to chest, rinsing your hair with the bathwater until all you can smell is citrusy shampoo.

eyelids fluttering, you suddenly come face to face with geto, who’s blinking down at you. he smiles softly as gojo finishes washing your hair, pressing his lips to your forehead when you let out a gratified sigh. limbs still immobile, the water moves around you as he carefully hands you back to gojo, who’s ready at the other end of the tub. your body is completely pliant as gojo positions you slightly in front of him, leaving enough room between the two of you for his hands to rest comfortably on your shoulders, his thighs beneath yours.

you sigh again, closing your eyes when gojo kneads the flesh of your shoulders, applying enough pressure to release the tension but not so much that it’s painful. bringing your feet onto his lap, geto presses his knuckles into the sole of your foot, dragging them down when you exhale. they massage you like you’re precious, every touch considerate. you melt, relaxed both by the water and their slow hands.

geto releases your feet and then there’s the sound of a pump, gojo still holding you up by the shoulders while geto begins to gently work soap into the curves and angles of your body, hands delicate on your skin. in the same moment, you hear gojo squeeze something onto his hands, fingers moving to your hair as he threads conditioner through the strands.

blinking blearily, you raise a weary hand to your forehead, rubbing at a tender spot in the centre. geto gently catches your wrist in one hand, guiding it away from your face.

“let us take care of you,” he says softly, submerging your hand beneath the surface of the water. “all you need to do is rest.”

gojo is rinsing your hair again and geto’s thumbs are rubbing tender circles into your temples, easing the hazy feeling in your mind. you’re trying your damnedest to keep your eyes open but you’re surrendering to exhaustion by the second, eyelids drooping as gojo finishes washing your hair. geto takes you in his arms once more when gojo stands up, climbing out of the tub to dry off.

“you did so well,” geto murmurs into your neck. you would reply but your tongue is leaden, limbs loose as gojo lifts you out of the water, his chest warm against your cheek as he walks you both out of the bathroom and toward a waiting towel on the bed. he lays you flat before carefully unfolding your body to start the process of drying. the towel is fluffy and plush against your flesh and gojo takes great care in touching you, his breathing steady while he caresses your skin through the towel.

being cleaned up has tired you out and you’re losing your grip on consciousness, head heavy as your eyes close. there are hands supporting your back, raising a bottle to your mouth and gently parting your lips to help you drink. the water isn’t as much gulped as it is poured down your throat, cold seeping into your core. the chill is quickly replaced by a warm blanket, tugged up to your shoulders, and the sensation of two bodies, one bracketing either side of you.

you’re warm with sleep, listening to the measured draw of their breaths as they inhale, exhale, inhale and exhale again. there’s a palm on your spine and another on your side as you fall into the abyss, content to let the yawning mouth of exhaustion swallow you whole.

*****

when you wake up several hours later, you have no idea how much time has passed. the bed is empty save for you in the middle, cushioned by a border of pillows. you’re still naked but warmed by the cocoon of the blanket, which has trapped heat beneath its surface. collecting yourself, last night comes back to you all at once, flashes of hot mouths and firm hands and quick tongues. it was by far the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and probably also the best sex you will have until the end of it.

you sit up, realizing that you’re so hungry you could definitely consume an elephant. your stomach rumbles in agreement and you’re starving but you almost don’t want to leave the bed to bear the cold world outside, the high thread count and goosefeather pillows enticing you to come back even as you stand up. there are clothes laid over a chaise in the corner; upon closer inspection, you see a comfortable bra and underwear, along with a sweater and leggings. your dress from last night is folded neatly, your lacy bra and fancy panties tucked discreetly into a bag beside it.

glancing down at your body properly, you notice for the first time the bruises around your wrists, which are rubbed raw. you peer down at your chest, which is similarly bruised. still naked, you make your way to the bathroom, gasping at the sight of your body in the mirror.

there’s no unmarred skin left on your neck; it’s absolutely littered with hickeys and bruises. your thighs are in a similar state, and you twist around to inspect your back, lovebites and marks scattered across your shoulder blades. your ass is bruised red and purple in the shape of fingerprints, the fading handprint impossible to miss across one of your cheeks. dimly, you register a dull throb between your legs. departing from the bathroom, you can’t help but be impressed because damn, they went to town on you.

you tug the sweater over your head and pull the leggings on, both from designer brands. picking up your dress and the bag, you take a second to marvel at the stunning view before you leave. the residence is situated so high into the sky that you’re struck by the ridiculous thought that they both literally and figuratively took you to cloud nine.

the suite is even more opulent in the daylight, white marble gleaming and tall arches cavernous as you walk down the hall towards the kitchen. gojo is perched on a barstool when you round the corner, tapping on his phone. geto is at the stove, flipping something in a pan.

gojo perks up at the sound of your footsteps, spinning around in the stool. “the beast awakens!”

you make a face at him, setting down your bag and dress onto the counter. “one of us is a beast, and it’s definitely not me.”

gojo titters, spinning in his chair. “i knew my gut was right when i spotted you.”

there’s a plate piled high with pancakes waiting for you, still warm. syrup and butter are off to the side and you wince when you sit down, pain radiating from your ass even though the barstool’s leather is soft.

geto turns around, holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says kiss the cook, but don’t touch the buns! the concerned expression on his face makes you bite back your smile.

“you okay?” he asks, unconvinced when you nod. his brow furrows as he looks at you, scanning your body. “we went really hard last night, i’m sorry. you’re going to be sore for a while.”

“you have nothing to be sorry about,” you say, picking up a knife and fork to dig into the pancakes. “i’ve never enjoyed anything more in my life.”

geto chuckles, turning back to the pan. “i’m glad. we had a really good time, too.”

you’re eating the pancakes with so much fervour that gojo glances up from his phone, an impressed look on his face.

“we also have eggs and croissants, if pancakes aren’t the vibe,” geto says from the stove, his back still to you. your mouth is too stuffed with pancake to reply.

“i think she’s fine with the pancakes,” gojo snickers, puffing his cheeks in imitation and ignoring the glare you cast in his direction.

geto somehow senses that gojo is being a brat and turns around, brandishing his spatula. “the only reason we’re even having the breakfast of a kindergartner is because cavity-man over here needed his sugar fix.” he turns back around to flip a pancake presumably destined for said cavity-man’s stomach.

“dentists love me,” gojo sniffs, hopping down from the barstool. he breaks the rule emblazoned on geto’s apron and squeezes his ass from behind, letting out a squawk when geto whirls around and smacks him with the spatula.

cleaning your plate at a remarkable speed, you’re just starting to wonder where your phone and purse have gone when gojo appears with both in his hands. he makes no move to bring them to you and you sigh aggravatedly, climbing down from the barstool to take them from him yourself.

he smirks evilly, holding them high in the air and far beyond your reach. “didn’t we have a conversation about manners?”

you resist the urge to jump, mainly because your ass hurts too much to do so, and settle for scowling at gojo, who’s still holding your things tauntingly above your head. he’s so unbearably tall that any hope you have of swatting at his hands is laughable.

geto walks over and reaches up, fingers plucking your phone and purse from gojo’s hands. he ignores gojo’s indignant huff as he hands them to you.

“we’d love to give you our numbers,” he says, eyes kind. “if you’re up for it, we’d really like to do this again sometime.”

like a vampire, all you need is an invitation and you’ll just keep showing up forever. “i would love nothing more.”

standing in front of both of them, you’re once again struck by how tall they are. gojo is leaning an arm onto geto’s shoulder, who’s still holding the spatula. they gaze at you and for a moment you’re reminded of last night. not usually one to be bashful, you duck your head, biting your lip. the events of last night will be staying with you for a while.

“there’s a car waiting for you downstairs whenever you’re ready to go,” geto says, and you look up. “though we wouldn’t mind if you stayed a little longer.”

gojo pushes away from geto, striding forward to grab your wrist and drag you into the living space. he plops you down onto the couch in front of a massive tv, taking your things from your hands and tossing them beside you.

“you’re right, i’m a fucking beast at mario kart,” gojo drawls, opening something you didn’t realize was a drawer and pulling out two controllers. “i’m princess peach, of course.”

you accept the controller, rolling your eyes. “why does that make so much sense?”

gojo doesn’t dignify that with a response, turning on the switch before yelling into the kitchen where geto is still cooking. “suguru, i want extra sprinkles on my pancakes!”

“kill yourself,” geto calls back. gojo takes this reply as an affirmative and jostles your shoulder, pointing at the nintendo logo when the screen flickers to life. “you can be bowser, since he looks just like you.”

you can’t help but laugh, the smell of pancakes wafting into the room as gojo glances sideways, his eyes dancing. smiling to yourself, you think that being stood up is the best thing that ever could have happened to you.

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mikichko · 1 month

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in every life, i claw my way to you

nanami hates the idea of soulmates. despises the idea of a fated existence where he is simply thrown into a life that has already been decided for him. a life like that is not worth living.

so when you ask him, if he thinks you're soulmates in every life, it takes him a while to answer.

he's not pondering the existence of fate or destiny and its relation to your love, he knows it has no place in it. instead, he mulls over his thoughts, thinking of how to express himself so he's thoroughly understood.

because, no, nanami does not think you're soulmates in every life. to him attaching a concept of a destined love dilutes what you share. it dirties it, attributing the honor of such a connection to something as uninvolved as the universe.

because the universe does not know you the way he does. has not learned about you the way he has. the universe holds you both, but to nanami, his universe only holds you. the universe does not know the taste of sweetness that your lips bring with every kiss. will never learn of the tenderness of your hands, as fingertips press aloe-soaked gauze to fresh wounds. he knows the universe does not know what it feels like to find home in the safety of your embrace.

"we're not soulmates in every life, no." he starts, the firmness of his voice making you flinch. but before you can respond he continues, "that implies the absence of choice. that i have no free will of my own, to choose who i love."

his hand reaches for yours, "in this universe, in the next, in all the ones where we exist together, if my soul is truly mine it will fight to find you."

he raises your hand to his lips, lips ghosting over your knuckles before pressing a kiss to them. "in every life, i will choose you. even claw my way to you. because i love you in spite of fate."

a/n: quick little idea that came to my head for my little kento ❤

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phyrestartr · 27 days

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Icarus, I Am Devoted | Sukuna x M!Reader

Main Fic W/C: 5.9k Bonus Drabbles W/C: 1.6k

[#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, I KINDA EDITED BUT I JUST WANT THIS TO BE YEETED INTO THE OPEN OK BYE SORRY IF PARTS ARE CLUNKY]

@better-imagination-9 I summon thee

Sukuna didn't like Yuuji getting caught up in his business.

He was too brash, thought himself too badass for the world to take down, thought gang life wasn't as bad as it was made out to be, just because his older brother was involved. Sukuna didn't know where the fuck he got that idea–the tattooed menace had killed people, stolen money, sold shit that ruined lives. It was fun for him, sure, but not so much for bystanders.

“You're an idiot,” Sukuna growled as he dragged his brother into his office and threw him at the chaise lounge while they waited for their doctor on demand.

“H-hey, come on, man! It's, uh, it's not even that bad–” Yuuji grimaced, though, holding at the wound gushing blood from his arm. “You've had worse!”

Sukuna laughed bitterly as his henchmen flooded the room and made necessary preparations for their aid's arrival. “You and I are fucking built different, Yuuji--you’re too damn soft for–”

“I'm not,” Yuuji snapped, honeyed eyes blazing. “I'm not.”

Sukuna laughed again, then ripped his plush, leather chair across the room, sending it hurtling into the expensive ebony walls he encased his place of business in. He roared in overwhelming fury as it clattered to the floor.

“How hard is it for you to listen? How come you can never just fucking–”

“Yelling won't solve things,” your cool voice interrupted as you hurried into the room, medical bag in hand. “I thought you learned that by now.”

Sukuna whirled on his heel. His hands were still fisted in his hair and his blood boiled, but now, there existed an explosive tension with you in the room.

You, his pretty little omega. The one he chased away. The one he still craved. The one that drove him insane.

“Uraume,” Sukuna growled, crimson eyes locking onto his most devoted.

“My apologies,” they said with a pensive look and deep bow, “he was the only one willing to come.”

“So mind your manners, or I'll let your brother bleed out,” you said airily, so haughty and bitchy and annoying. But Sukuna knew you wouldn't let Yuuji die. You wouldn't let him suffer with a wound like that–you were too fond of the little brat.

Sukuna snarled in frustration and fixed his jacket with sharp tugs. “Just fix him.”

He stalked away, ignoring the way Yuuji yelled at him before preening at you as you tended to him. Sukuna knew his brother had a bit of a thing for you, his bitch, which caused more than a handful of problems with the two arguing and fighting for your affections. Naturally, you chose Sukuna. Of course you would.

The alpha's frustrations boiled, reducing the rage in his gut into simmering desire. He leaned his head back against the elevator mirror with a sigh as it shot up toward the penthouse--the one you, too, used to occupy. The one where you'd spread your legs for him, drowning in expensive, black silk sheets while he bred you like the good little thing you were. The one where you'd cook for him if (when) you woke up before him the morning after. The one where you first whispered I love you against his skin when you thought he was asleep.

The elevator doors dinged open, and he stormed out, eager to rid himself of the tightness pulling at his slacks. A cigar and a drink sounded good, too.

–

Ding.

He knew it was you. It had to be you. You were a good person, willing to let Uraume rest while you gave your ex the update he needed about his brother. After all, you didn't fear him, nor did you yearn to please him. You were more than capable of delivering shit news and getting off scotch free.

“So?” Sukuna took a deep puff from his cigar and leaned further into the balcony railing as you approached.

You hummed as you sidled up next to him, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as the breeze tugged at it. “He'll be fine. Yuuji's tough. He's a bit shaken up now that the adrenaline’s worn off, though.”

“Maybe that'll teach that idiot not to get shot.”

“Probably not.”

“Probably not,” Sukuna sighed, tapping off a dash of ash from the butt of his cigar just before it was plucked from his hands. “Oi.”

“These things'll kill you,” you scolded airily. “So will that.” You tried reaching for the crystalline glass of amber, too, when Sukuna scoffed and took a sip to spite you.

“Don't,” he snarled. Any normal omega would have backed away. Any normal omega would have keened. Any normal omega would have tried to please him up with a sweet scent of submission. But you were a different breed entirely.

“Don't growl at me–” you gaped as Sukuna downed the expensive liquor before whipping the glass at the skyline. “Sukuna.”

He stalked back into his penthouse with heavy steps as he ran his hands through his hair. He had to busy his fingers, his palms, just so he wasn't tempted to touch you, to grab you like he was used to. It'd been years since you were properly together–properly engaged in fact–but he still couldn't shake those infuriating fucking habits. You were a cancer in his mind, plaguing his body and thoughts.

But he didn't want you to leave. Maybe he liked the chase. Maybe he just liked how his entire, explosive world narrowed down to just one infuriating thing that he wanted so badly. He didn't know. Maybe he didn't need to know.

Sukuna poured himself another drink and collapsed onto his soft leather couch with a deep sigh. His arms draped along the back, one hand still holding the glass by the rim. He let his head fall back, and stared at the ceiling.

Thankfully, you wandered in. And you wandered toward him, not to the door like you usually did when his temper flared and he acted out. Something small and pathetic in him uncoiled and settled down, purring in content when you took a seat beside him.

“What's going on?” you asked quietly. Your fingertips singed sparks of pleasure against his skin where you touched: his cheekbones, his hairline, his furrowed brow.

He lolled his head to the side to look at you, his stupid pretty boy. “Nothing.” Not even Sukuna believed that.

You brushed his hair back, and the stupid alpha in him rose to the surface and moaned. “Yuuji’s not behaving?” Your warm palm cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it.

“That little shit never behaves,” he mumbled through the vibrato of purrs rumbling from his chest. “Gonna make me die young.”

“Hm. Is that why you haven't slept?”

“I'm sleeping.”

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“Sukuna.”

“I said–”

“You and I have different definitions of ‘enough,’” you chided lightly, like you were scolding one of your cats. “You look tired.”

“Maybe it's because my mate scampered off in the middle of the night.”

“Don't blame this on me.”

“Why not?” Wine-red eyes glowered at you, deciding whether he should dominate or decimate you. “It's your fault.”

You recoiled the slightest bit, your top lip twitching in that oh-so familiar way it did whenever you were close to snarling and snapping at him. You had such a temper for such a calm thing. Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't try to rile you up on purpose.

“Ho? What,” he started, grinning wickedly when you made a move to get up, but his arms snaked around you and held like wrought iron. “Feelin’ guilty?”

“No,” you hissed, half-pissed by his drink spilling on you, half-pissed by his accusation. “Let go. I'm leaving.”

“Leaving?” He crooned. “You always get so pissy when I don't wanna talk, ‘n now that I'm in the mood, you're tryna leave? Come on, sweetheart, that's not fair.”

“I don't feel like fucking fighting tonight,” you snapped, and Sukuna stayed quiet for a change. “Yuuji got shot. You look like shit. And we--I haven't–” you took a deep breath. “Can't we just be civil for a night? Can't we just talk about–”

“About what?”

“About whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Alright. Okay.”

Somewhere behind the haze of alcohol, Sukuna's consciousness celebrated–this could be his shot at starting to fix things. This was his moment to rebuild that lost relationship and maybe clean up a space in his life for you to sit safely in. Your expectant expression agreed with him. You looked quite cute, what with your big eyes and the way you leaned into him. But instead–

“Was it a boy or a girl?” Sukuna asked before taking a sip of whatever remained in his glass.

You blinked and shook your head, eyes narrowing the slightest as you looked over his face. “What?” You asked.

Sukuna snorted and turned to face you, one arm gesturing with his scotch glass while the other arm stayed slung across the back of the couch. “I said,” he started, gesturing to your stomach and chuckling through his low, bassy words, “boy or girl? If it was a girl, then maybe the world did you a favour. You know how it is for women in this day and age.”

You stared blankly like you were shellshocked, and Sukuna bubbled with near-manic, reedy laughter until you got up and walked to the door.

“Oi, where the hell are you going, huh?” He got up and followed you, hastening his steps when he saw you b-line for the door. “Omega.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, purring into your ear as he pressed his chest to your back. “Come on, we can make another one. You'd like that, huh?”

“Get off,” you barked, ripping his arms away from you. But he grabbed you again and spun you back to face him. You shoved him back, your mind whirling in a chaotic waltz drenched with grey thoughts and crimson rain that almost drowned out the words he barked at you until–

Whack.

He hit you. Backhanded, fingers adorned with thick, bulky rings and knuckles that'd seen too many fights. A natural disaster contained in the vessel of a mortal man–sometimes, he didn't know his own capabilities.

“Shit,” Sukuna mumbled, scrambling to set down his glass to, what, tend to you? Rewind time? Sure. “Babe–”

But you, too, were a natural disaster. The tsunami that came after an earthquake, raising tides high and staring down at split earth with a taunt: you think you're bad? Watch this.

Thwack.

You snatched up that bottle of fancy scotch and hit a home run, watching Sukuna collapse to the floor.

–

Sukuna woke up with a concussion, his wallet missing, and one of his favourite cars torched.

It got him riled up. He was too ready to hunt you down and make you rectify your mistakes–that is, until he remembered why you did what you did.

Boy or girl?

Maybe the world did you a favour.

Fuck. He flew way too close to the sun this time.

He watched you stack up expenses on his card instead of hunting you. Your little rage-filled crime spree was kind of funny anyway, and he couldn’t help but hope it made you feel at least a little better.

Though he knew it could never. Nothing could make it better.

–

“You should quit messing around with him,” Ieiri said as she tended to the half-dead gangster laying on her operating table. “He's bad news. A kid like you shouldn’t be getting involved.”

The one little, wiggly lucid part of Sukuna wanted to strangle Ieiri; you were young, sure, but not stupid. Sukuna wouldn't go so far as to say you were mature for your age, no, but you'd been beaten down by life and forced into the role of an adult for long enough that it'd changed your way of thinking, of perceiving the world. You could make your own choices–just as long as it involved him.

“You're not the first person to tell me that,” you said softly, words rising with a small, warm chuckle. “Good guys try way too hard to put on a show, to hide how garbage they can be.” You squeezed Sukuna's hand and ran your thumb over his split knuckles. “Guys like him show you who they really are right away. Then, you get to figure out what his good side is like.”

–

You were there again. In the elevator, looking a little pensive beyond your cool exterior.

Sukuna took a drag from his cigarette as he stepped in beside you. The button for his penthouse leered at him and whispered, “you have time.”

All he had to do was think of what to say. The right course of action was obvious, but–well, was it really his fault? He couldn't accept that 100%. You clocked him upside the head with a fucking glass bottle and stole his–

“Those things'll kill you.” Your fingers snatched the smoke from his lips before he realized it. He caught you butting it out on the fancy gold railings.

“I like things that can kill me,” he hummed, lighting another cigarette and chuckling when you snatched that one too. “What, scared of a little competition?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Sukuna liked that.

“I, uh,” you started, fumbling with your pockets before handing something over. “Found this.”

Sukuna glanced your way finally. He couldn't help but laugh as he plucked the wallet from your hands.

“Found it, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Such a benevolent, pious thing. I would've kept it.”

“Yeah, well. You're a dick. ‘Course you would.”

“Where'd you find it?”

“My pocket.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing the empty hall leading to the penthouse. He glanced down at the door before looking back down at you.

“Have a drink with me.”

Your expression soured.

Sukuna threw his arm against the doors to keep them open. “Coffee?”

Your brows lifted, the creases smoothing from your face. “Coffee.”

Sukuna's alpha bloomed with pleased content. He sidled up next to you and rested his broad hand on the small of your back, leading you down the hall.

“With a bit of Baileys.”

“No Baileys.”

–

He let you try to sooth his stress while you waited for your favourite, poor-person coffee to brew.

You straddled his thick thighs as you kissed at his neck. Your hands roamed and threaded through his gelled hair, your blunt nails dragged along his scalp, coaxing rumbling purrs out of your alpha.

“Shit,” he moaned, leaning back into your hands, digging his head into your digits and grumbling like an old dog. You hummed in sympathy, and gave him harsher scritches, making his knee bounce in double time like a dog getting the spot scratched.

You weren’t done, though. You licked at his neck’s scent gland and coaxed more of his natural musk to the surface to mix with yours–a classic way to get one’s partner to calm down. You were methodical as fuck about it, too, knowing how Sukuna’s stress abruptly blocked any good scents in favour of excreting foul, angry odors into the air when he was pissed. Or, sometimes, he’d shut down completely, the only scent coming from what clung to his skin and clothes.

And so, he needed a little more TLC to get things flowing again, to make his body disarm and let the good vibes flow.

You nipped the swollen spot lightly, eliciting a strangled growl from the man. “Too rough?” Your tongue pressed at the spot again, and pulled more of that deep purring out of him. “Maybe not.”

“By all means, rough me up.” That was as close to a warning as you would get from a greedy bastard like Sukuna. He wanted you to bite harder, to break skin and set the wild tornado of a mating rut into motion. You were careful to avoid him when your unholy heats crashed down on you, but being in the presence of your estranged man when he was set off–well, it’d jumpstart your sex-crazed frenzy, too.

“Raincheck,” you murmured.

He huffed and rubbed circles in your hips before grabbing your ass and squeezing. “When's the last time–”

The coffee maker sang a tune and you got off, saved from your warm, fuzzy marking daze. “Does it matter?”

Sukuna got up and stalked after you, rubbing the ache out of his shoulder. “Like it or not, we're stuck with our binding vow.” His chest pressed to your back, his arms slipping around your waist as he leaned down to nuzzle into your skin. “Mated for life.” He couldn't help the smile that branded into your neck.

You cleared your throat and snatched up two mugs. “There're surgeries–”

“No.”

“How do you take your coffee again?” Hah. You didn't even try to argue it.

Sukuna's ego boomed. His scent grew more dominating and demanding in tow. “You know how I like it. You know the way I like everything.”

You scoffed and slapped his hand away, the sweet, teasing omega that happily marked him up and scented him to high heaven gone, now replaced with your annoying, bratty self. Ugh. He loved it as much as he hated it.

“You used to be cuter,” Sukuna commented, quiet and breathy, so out of character. His hands retreated back to hold your waist instead of keeping you trapped against him. “What happened to–”

“You know what happened.” You sounded tired, too. Angry. But not at the Sukuna standing with you right then and there.

Sukuna's old friend, unyielding frustration, bore down on him. He sucked his teeth and beat down the urge to snap, to yell and scream, claim it wasn't his fucking fault and that you never filled him in, so how could–

His forehead pressed against your shoulder. “I don't,” he sighed. “I don't fucking know, (Name). We lost our kid, I know that much, so what the fuck else is there?”

For a moment, he thought he'd lost you again. He expected you to whirl around, throw a cup at his head and curse him to hell to start off another fight; instead, you slipped out of his hands gently, and replaced your warmth with a cup of coffee.

“Come sit.”

Sukuna complied.

You tucked your legs up under you when you sat down. Your own mug was held snugly with both hands, yet your fingers fidgeted, twirling around whatever rings you had on while you thought of what to say.

“So,” you started. “How much do you know?”

Sukuna leaned back and thought. “Uraume called. Said something was wrong.” He could remember their voice ringing in his ear, that usual, frigid demeanor exploding into something panicked and tortured as they tried to comfort you, order idiots around, and explain the situation. “They didn’t know what, but said you were bein’ taken to Ieiri. I met ‘em there, Gojo wouldn’t let me come in.” He sighed, the memories pricking his nerves. “Told me you miscarried, and–well, that’s more or less it.”

You nodded a little, digesting the scraps of knowledge that’d been given to Sukuna. “I was alone,” you breathed. “I was–I’d been cramping. A lot. I thought–I didn't know–I just–I thought it was normal.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting more and only stilling when Sukuna's palm rested on your leg. You covered his hand with one of yours. “There was a lot of blood. I thought I was dying. Uraume and Yuuji took me to Ieiri.”

Sukuna remembered that, too. He remembered catching sight of you just before his brother carried you away from him. It was hard to forget the sound of your wailing amidst all that red–that damned noise came from hell itself, from the burning, fetid pits of agony and despair and up through your beautiful voice. For something so foul to touch you was nothing but blasphemous.

Sukuna tried to follow you in, but that moron Gojo wouldn’t let him in, spouting some bullshit about how he’d make things worse. Needless to say, Sukuna snapped, and Ieiri suddenly had more than a mourning omega to deal with.

“I pinned it on you to cope. I didn’t know what else to do.” You spared a shy glance at him before staring down again. “...Uraume filled me in, though. You were dealing with so much shit. All that crap with the Zenins. And you didn’t even–you didn’t even know I was knocked up until I wasn’t.” You sighed and sipped your drink before setting it aside. “Guess it was easier to blame you for everything than it was to just accept I got unlucky.”

“‘Unlucky’?” Sukuna repeated lowly, void of mirth for once.

You nodded. “Chromosome bullshit, garbage genetics, a shitty cervix. Coulda been anything.” Sukuna watched your expression shift from desolate to bitter. “And if you fuck up once and lose your pup, odds are it’ll happen again.”

“Says who?”

“Science. Doctors.”

“You really gonna take their word like that?” Your eyes met his, doey and expectant. “I'll gut ‘em myself if they say that shit next time you're knocked up.”

You looked a bit bashful then, looking away from him with pursed lips and glossy eyes. For a second, Sukuna thought you were about to snap and argue with him about how you vowed to never get pregnant again (which he'd indulge in), or maybe even bolt for the door (which he wouldn't allow), but instead, you grabbed the remote.

“Tch. Don't say such stupid shit. It's annoying.”

Sukuna could only grin to himself as you settled in beside him, tucking up against his side. Neither of you could swallow your pride enough to properly apologize for anything ever, but that wasn't necessarily needed–understanding was what was needed. Things had just become a little bit clearer.

–

For once, the alpha found himself at ease. Sure, you had your petty and some less-than-petty spats, but there was a coil of contentment that stayed at the forefront of Sukuna's mind through it all. Now, he no longer fumed nor bristled, no longer wondered if you really belonged to him, no longer thought about how to trap you if he wanted to keep you around.

Because you made more of an effort to see him, to call when you couldn't, to set his vicious wolf's heart at ease so he could rest soundly. He rested the most when you were so gracious as to curl up in those black, silken sheets with him, too.

Don't get too excited. It's just because we're mated; we'd go insane otherwise, Is how you rationalized it. And, honestly, it was cute to see you act so flippant and uncaring when Sukuna knew you were so the opposite.

Little liar. Loves playing pretend. He gently tucked stray hairs behind your ear as you snoozed soundly beside him. It was unlike you to sleep in so late (“late” meaning past 6am), and it was unlike Sukuna to wake up before you, so it must have been kismet.

Because this moment was the first in a long time where he got to touch you. Beyond the playful ass slaps and grabs at your hips, you never really let him feel you. Or did he just never try to touch you like this? Gently, just for the sake of feeling your skin and your warmth?

Sukuna was a brutal man. He didn't often have a chance to be careful. If he'd had that kid, then he might've learned how; he could've learned not to throw glasses at skylines, not to lash out at his omega, not to expect you to still love you when he broke you.

He brushed his thumb along your cheek and down to your jaw, admiring the soft skin and strong angle that led him to the curve of your chin, and your perfect lips. God, he wanted to kiss you. It'd been an eternity since he had a taste of you. Maybe if he was gentle–

I can do gentle. Sukuna shifted the slightest bit towards you until his nose lightly brushed against yours, until he felt your light breaths fan against his skin. Ah, why was his heart beating so fast now?

He did his best to ignore the way his pulse thundered in his ears when he brushed his lips against yours once more, before he kissed you softly. Gently. Perfectly. And he took his time parting. He had to savour the taste of your lips against his because who knew when he'd get to kiss you again?

I love you, he heard echo in his memories when your lips parted. But he never heard himself reply.

“Love you too, brat,” he murmured. “Don't you dare think otherwise.”

Your eyes opened a moment later. “You mean that?” came your reply, just as light and whispered. Sukuna felt waves of heat come off your skin–were you blushing?

Crimson eyes flickered from your bashful look to the slight parting of your lips and back again. “Always.” Even though he never said it. But he let you get away with everything to show that love–credit card theft, cracking him upside the head with a bottle, abandoning him for months on end.

A soft ‘hm’ hummed through you. Your sleepy gaze melted from Sukuna’s, and down to his lips, too, while your own pursed, pensive. Thoughtful. Christ, you were really something else–just a single look from you had his mind reeling, his chest easing into a warmth so reminiscent of a campfire, the sort you both used to sit around when you’d bullied Sukuna into buying one for his too-big balcony.

Back then, you were just “friends,” though the flirting and meaningful touches said otherwise. You were still a street doctor, introduced to him by Yuuji of all people, but you had more pep in your step, especially when you worked to try and swoon the hardened, deranged alpha you’d decided belonged to you. You’re mine, you said simply after shooting whatever whore the big, bad boss had hired for the night. The look in your eyes, cold and determined, got Sukuna achingly hard in an instant. He never wanted you to look at anyone else like that–your rage, your obsession, it could only ever be for him.

“‘M I still yours?” You still want me? You still love me? Am I still just for you?

You looked a little sentimental. A little sad, too, maybe. But maybe it was just the culmination of your fears and worries, your wants and desires finally breaking through your solemn being.

“I'm a minimalist at heart. I've only got room for so much.”

“Don't tell me you're back on that Kondo Marie kick–”

“But you're something I can't do without.” Yeah, I love you. I want you. I don't want much, but I want you. You're mine. “You bring me joy, or whatever the saying is. But I wanna beat the shit outta you sometimes for being a dumbass.”

Sukuna laughed and nudged your nose with his–a small, primal gesture of fondness. “Yeah, yeah, I'm aware. Tch. You're gonna have to be careful--you're gonna send my old ass to an early grave if you keep up with all this fiery youth shit.”

“Then I can inherit your fortune,” you offered airily before kissing him teasingly. Sukuna growled when your small fangs dug into his bottom lip playfully. “That'd be nice.”

“Hah. Everything's going to family–Yuuji, the old fart.” Sukuna pulled you in closer and purred as you complied. “You'd have to–”

“I'll marry you if that's what it takes,” you cooed, and Sukuna froze. You paused for a moment, too, before lifting yourself up to look down at his dumb face. “Oi.” You pat his cheek lightly but he scowled at you, half-cranky, half-defeated. “Eeeh? You mad?”

“Tch.”

“Awe, big alpha's mad.”

“Don't.” A command. A warning. One that had your subgender reeling and whimpering behind you, but your human side smiling, ready to mock.

You slid on top of him, straddling his waist and splaying your hands out on his broad, solid chest. Sukuna still kept his gaze elsewhere. Honestly, you couldn't blame him--you were in a mood.

“Oi,” you prodded, poking at his ridiculous pecs and tracing over the dark lines of his irezumi. “Hey. Don't pout.” But he grabbed your hands when your stupid fingers threatened to assault his nipples, and he continued to pout. “Come on, I said I'd marry you.”

“Tch.” You've said that before.

“I mean it.”

“Tch.” You’ve said that before, too.

You leaned down, and nuzzled the hollow of his cheek while he grumbled and grumped. “You don't like the idea of breeding me anymore? You don't want me to yourself, all caught up in your bedsheets with you between my legs? Hm? You don't wanna fuck me through my heat, knock me up a few more times, make me bare your children for the world to see how I belong to Ryoumen Sukuna? You don't want me to be drenched in your scent–”

You squeaked when your man flipped you around, pinning you before ripping off the sleep shorts keeping your skin from him. His rough fingers dove deep into your slicked up hole (apparently your long list of hypotheticals had worked you up into a soft, wet, pliant thing) and hurried to stretch you wide.

“Such an annoying little shit,” Sukuna grumbled. And you laughed, lightly and so achingly genuinely through your fluttery mewls and moans. “If you try ‘n back out this time, I'll break your fucking legs and tie you down to the bed, you got that? I'm not gonna be so fucking nice this time.”

“Eh? You were being nice last–” you whined when his wet fingers jammed into your mouth. But you obediently sucked and bit at them, holding onto his muscled arm for leverage while he kicked off his bottoms and pressed his sweltering tip to your soft entrance.

“You got no idea, princess.” Sukuna pushed in, groaning with ancient, cursed need as your insides welcomed him and obeyed, letting his uncomfortable size push you open. Seemed your body still remembered him. Wanted him as much as your stupid pretty mouth claimed.

You were gasping, your molars chewing into his fingers as your missing piece slid back into place, filling you up until it hurt to breathe. Strong thighs clamped down against Sukuna’s sides as he dragged you down, forcing the last bits of his cock into your very depths, squeezing a reedy whine out of you, before he pulled out and slammed right back in again and again and again.

Your cry nearly sent him over the edge. It was a loud, bassy thing, something like a cello toppling or having its string plucked too hard by a callous touch–a sound Sukuna reveled in. You were the only partner he'd had that was like this, so demanding and bitchy, absolutely horrible and as poisonous as alphas were, and he loved it. He lived and died by your gospel, by the very life that thrummed underneath his touch.

And you promised to be all his. Sukuna could have everything, anything and anyone, and that apparently included trapping and claiming a god. One that only he prayed to. One that'd only smile upon him. One that only delivered to him divine blessings.

What a divine gift.

He folded you in half with ease and blanketed your trembling body with his own. The fingers fucking into your mouth slipped out and down to your throat where they squeezed lightly; then, they traveled to the back of your neck, found your cute little nape, and squeezed.

Your eyes rolled back as your body arched up into him. Words left you in some ancient tongue neither you nor Sukuna could decipher. But it was a language of love and pleasure, the sort that brought delicious submission coiling through your blood in offering to the lowly creature devouring your holiness.

“Sukuna,” you choked out. Your fingers dug into his shoulder and fisted in his hair, pulling him closer to the old, scarred mark left there by him a decade ago. “‘Kuna, I need–”

The boss laughed low, but with fluttery, manic high tones warped throughout. “Need me to bite you? Mark you mine again?” He taunted. His nails dug into your soft side as he fucked into you harder, lifting your waist up to meet his brutal angle as his base started to swell. “I wanna hear you say it–say you need it, you want it. Say you need me to fill your guts every fucking night. Say I'm the only one who can get you there. I'm the only one–” his other hand grabbed your nape harder, forcing your submission further, forcing your neck to the side to present it to him.

Then, with a snarl, he added, “say ‘I do.’”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you murmured those very words into his ear.

I do.

Sukuna's heart howled with the beast living inside him. Blood flooded his mouth when he tore into your shoulder, digging deeper than needed to brand you his again just before his pulsing knot squeezed into you and locked into place, stilling his wild rampage and holding you hostage beneath his hulking body.

You shifted and writhed against him, so obviously overwhelmed by such an archaic, crazed union–your omega must have been going wild, willing you to fight against the monster pouring his seed into you, locking you in place, taking away your autonomy. But a short, rough warning growl settled your inner self the slightest bit and straightened out your thoughts enough for your human pettiness to urge you, too, to sink teeth into flesh and mark up your alpha to complete the re-bonding.

Good boy. Sukuna's hips rutted against you in light pulses, attempting to jam his knot further into you to ensure you'd take everything he so graciously offered you. But every little move your bodies made together tore more hot strings of cum out of him and into your core. Apparently an eternity of not having you was culminating into this one moment.

You were the one to let go first. You collapsed onto your back with a loud sigh, and the crushing constriction of your thighs laxed just slightly.

“Fuck,” you gasped, wholly content and pleased. Your hand wiggled between your bodies and rested on the still-inflating curve that your partner had oh-so loving built out of cum and obsessive dedication. “That's gonna make a mess.”

Good. Sukuna's chainsaw purr reverberated against your bloodied skin. He chewed into you further and relished in the taste and smell of you, the way it mingled with his own scent of existence and made him feel so irrevocably whole.

Your fingers laced through his hair as you laughed. “Oi, let go already. Your knot's not gonna go down for like thirty minutes. I'm not going anywhere.”

Your mate obliged, dislodging his chunky fangs from you and lapping at the wound dutifully until the bleeding staunched. Next, he got to work leaving an array of dark hickies and light bites all over your neck and shoulder, just in case the gnarly bite mark wasn't enough to ward off idiots who thought they had a chance with you. He grumbled at the mere idea of it.

“So?” You cooed, running your hands up and down his muscled shoulders. “What do we do for half an hour?”

Sukuna scoffed. He tried to pull out just a bit, just to see if he was seriously locked in there, and you spat a vile hiss his way, your nails digging into him at the same time. And, fuck, you were tight–

“Fuck.” He didn't think this through.

-- DRABBLES --

“You're dumb as fuck, you know that?”

“Ah, such romantic words to hear from my wife.”

“Husband, jackass.”

Sukuna managed to open his eyes through the pounding of his head. God, he felt like shit. But that probably came with the territory of getting shot point-blank before bailing out of a moving car on the highway. Honestly, he was lucky only one car hit him when he hit the pavement.

Still, it was bad enough to warrant him a ticket to the hospital. Uraume worked behind the scenes, ensuring their boss got a private room and that the police would stay the fuck away if they knew what was good for them, and it all somehow worked out. Uraume was definitely a sorcerer of sorts.

“Can you save it for home? Fucking hell,” Sukuna groaned, letting his eyes fall shut again. “Too tired to argue.”

“That's a first,” You huffed, and marched up to his side, sitting down in the cozy seat waiting for you. Your careful touch prodded at his hand gently, as if assessing the damage, guestimating if you could hold his hand without hurting him, but he made the choice for you. He caught your hand weakly, and you held him safe with both of yours.

“Missed you,” he grumbled, squeezing back lamely. “Have fun on the trip at least?”

“Yeah, until I heard what happened.” You sighed, watery and warbled. “I shouldn't have left. You're too stupid to survive alone.”

Sukuna laughed, then coughed. He felt you tense. “F-Fuck you, little shit. I'm fine.”

“You got shot.”

“Been shot before.”

“Jumped out of a car.”

“I've jumped outta faster.”

“Then got hit by another car.”

“That was a first.”

You sighed to fight back either a sob or ill-placed laughter, or maybe both. “This is so fucking ridiculous. Never make me take a vacation again. I can't be off fucking around in Hawaii when my baby daddy's getting hit like it's GTA.”

“Christ, I already–” he paused, though, and cracked an eye open to look at you. “What did you…”

He lost his words when he saw you. Your skin glowed in a way he hadn't had the luxury to see before. Your face looked rounder, too, like you'd put on a little bit of weight since you'd been gone. But your scent–your usual sweet, full-bodied scent of flowery coffee was cranked up to a trillion. If Sukuna's nose wasn't busted, he would've noticed the way it filled up the room, and he might've noticed how his own scent rose to meet it in greeting. Something strange was happening.

“Oh. Right. Uh…” you cleared your throat and hastily tucked some hair behind your ear. You looked a little bit lost for words too, in all honesty. “I’m pregn–”

Sukuna sat up. You barked at him to lay down, your voice rising a few octaves when something that was probably important dislodged from his wrist as he reached forward when you stood. And you froze when his palm pressed against your stomach–a natural, maternal thing to do. Sukuna remembered when he caught your cat for you when she was trying to dart out the door whilst pregnant, and how she froze dead in her tracks when his hand caught her by her kitten-filled stomach, and let him carry her back inside.

But this was different. This wasn’t his partner’s cat’s kittens he was feeling, it was yours. His. A shared little nugget doing its best to grow big for its expectant mama–and now expectant papa.

“How long?” Sukuna rasped. When did his throat get so dry?

“Two months. Ish.” You rested your hands over his again despite the awkward angle he caught you at. “I didn’t know until last week. I tried to call, but–” You got obliterated and couldn’t answer your phone.

“I get it. Don’t gotta explain.” Sukuna gazed at your stomach a moment longer with droopy, half-lidded eyes before looking up at you as nurses burst into the room. “You’re moving in.”

And for once, you didn’t argue.

–

“Dude, you guys can't fuck when he's pregnant! You'll crush the baby like a tin can!”

You snorted and tried to cover your mouth as your tea shot out your nose. You coughed and wheezed, turning away and waving at the brothers in a desperate plea for them to not look and continue their petty argument.

Sukuna, caught between the urge to mock you and kick the shit out of his annoying little fucknut brother, sighed and rubbed his face before handing you his fancy handkerchief he kept tucked in the breast of his jacket for nothing but looks. These days, though, the damn thing had been paying its dues.

“You think I'm gonna listen to a fuckin’ virgin about this kinda shit?” Sukuna quipped back as he watched you clean up before trying to take a sip of your drink again.

“Hey, man, I'm just saying. Your dick is like a third leg.”

You slammed your hand down on the table after spitting a mouthful of tea back into your cup. “Yuuji. Please. Why do you even know that?”

Yuuji pouted and scooted closer to you under the kotatsu. “Wh--we're brothers! It's not even that weird!”

“It's weird as shit,” Sukuna offered as he reached out to rub your back.

“So not weird.” His honeyed eyes locked onto the small affection the older showed you. “Man, so not fair you guys are ganging up on me now that you're, like, a thing,” Yuuji whined and let his arms and chest flop across the table like a petulant child.

Sukuna smirked. “Jealous?”

You grumbled. “Sukuna. Don't start.”

Yuuji's ears turned bright red. “Jea–what?! No! I like girls like Jennifer Lawrence, not--I don't–”

“N'awe, little pup's tryna cope with losing.” Sukuna grinned wildly when Yuuji's head snapped up, pinning a deadly stare onto the older alpha. “Oh? Finally grow a pair?”

“Sukuna,” you warned again.

“You better shut it, dude,” Yuuji threatened next, and you knew it was a lost cause; two alpha brothers, both incredibly competitive, both pining for the same omega, spelled disaster.

Your partner laughed that familiar, ugly laugh–the sort that was too genuine and sounded borderline insane. “Or what? You gonna make me cry–”

Yuuji launched over the table in an instant, tackling his brother to the ground with a bratty snarl. You watched on, unimpressed, waiting for any signs of their wrestling turning into a serious fight, but it never came. So, you enjoyed it a bit. It wasn't everyday the two idiots played nice.

You rested your hands on your curved stomach while the two growled and snarled half-heartedly in their dumb attempt to subdue the other. Sukuna could've won in an instant, you both knew that, but he'd let Yuuji think he had a fighting chance for a little bit. It was part of the fun for him, letting his little brother gnaw on him like it'd do anything, letting him try to use his horrible jiu-jitsu skills on his older, bigger brother. It reminded you of–

“Oh,” you peeped when a rowdy kick jostled your hand. It didn't come from the boys, no, it came from the tiny tot inside you.

The boys froze and stared at you.

“Huh? What's ‘oh'?” Yuuji asked through his panting and straining. Sukuna had him in a headlock, one of his hands giving a brutal noogie to the younger's head.

“No, just–I think she kicked. Maybe not, I don't–” but your expression brightened with delight when another little throw hit your hand.

“No shit?” Sukuna grinned, waves of excited alpha scent rolling off of him. He face-shoved Yuuji away before sidling up next to you and pressing his palm against your stomach. You guided his touch to rest over the kicky hotspot, and sure enough–

Thump. Thump.

“Two kicks for your old man, hey?” Sukuna hummed, looking so damn triumphant.

“Hey, hey, I wanna feel!” Yuuji scrambled over like a nightmare and wiggled up on your other side, pointedly ignoring the snarl Sukuna sent his way. “Come on, it's my niece, chill out.”

Sukuna growled again, but you pulled his hand off to let Yuuji feel the little life making herself known. His eyes, too, lit up when those tiny thwacks battered his palm.

You looked up at Sukuna dreamily, making the other's ticked expression smooth down into just mildly-annoyed; if your omega wasn't threatened, then he wasn't going to threaten. Sukuna didn't think Yuuji would hurt you, absolutely not, but anyone who came near you, or so much as accidentally bumped into you, pissed Sukuna off, sending his over-protective instincts into overdrive. He always had to rely on you to know when not to react.

“That's so cool!” Yuuji squeaked. “She's seriously in there!”

“Where the fuck else would she be,” Sukuna grumped.

“Don't ruin his fun, Sukuna.”

“Yeah, don’t ruin my fun!”

“Yuuji’s banned from the house.”

“WH–HEY!!”

“Sukuna.”

“Heh.”

“What about gramps, then?”

Sukuna paused. His heart stopped for a long, long moment.

“What about him?” He answered, nonchalantly as possible. “Old fuck cut me off years ago.”

“He still cares,” Yuuji offered with a shrug. “And I told him about the pup ‘n everything.”

Sukuna frowned. “Yuuji–”

“You seriously think he doesn't give a shit? Dude, be real, the guy raised us.”

“That's generous.”

“Didn't you say you were leaving everything to Yuuji and ‘the old fart’ originally?” You cooed, unhelpful as ever.

Carmine eyes found yours. “...If he actually wants to meet her–”

“Awesome, I’ll let him know!”

“Oi, runt–”

But Yuuji jumped up and pulled his phone out, leaving Sukuna to wonder what he’d just gotten himself into while you laughed at his misery.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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3seven-gambler · 24 days

Text

#⌁꒰Buγing Sɑnɾio plushies thɑt ɾemind γou of them ; JJK men꒱

⋆ word count: 625 ⋆ genre: fluff ! ⋆ includes: gojo satoru, ryomen sukuna. ⋆ a/n: no proof read, sukuna might be a bit out of character but oh well. more characters might be added later on here.

࿐♡Ꮐꮻꭻꮻ Ꮪꭺꭲꮻꭱꮜ

Gojo had proposed to go out on a date to the shopping mall, and of course you accepted. After going through almost all the stores, you spot a Miniso. You practically begged him to take you inside the store and, since he can't say no to you, he accepted.

While browsing all the shelfs stuffed with all kinds of products with your favorite characters on them, your eyes were caught by a Cinnamoroll plushie behind all the new arrivals.

You got it in your hands and stare at it for a while. It had a sort of black shirt along with a pair of round black glasses on top of his head.

Your boyfriend, who had been walking around just grabbing stuff he knows you use, came back to where you were.

You then turn your gaze, thoroughly staring at him. And then back to the plushie.

-"Uh, honey, what are you doing?" He asked confused.

-"This... It's... You" you finally spoke, a smile adorning your face.

-"What is me?"

-"Look!" You turned around and practically put the plushie onto his face. -"This Cinnamoroll plushie looks just like you, 'toru!"

He left out a soft chuckle, not because of the plushie (or just a bit) but because of how excited you were.

-"Can we buy it? Please, 'toru, can we?" You said in a child like voice.

He let out a sigh while smiling, you are indeed his spoiled little s/o.

-"Of course we can, beautiful"

-"Yes! Thank you... Thank you... Thank you" you said between the kisses you gave him all over his face.

He will do whatever you say just to see you smile.

࿐♡Ꭱꭹꮻꮇꭼɴ Ꮪꮜꮶꮜɴꭺ

-"What the fuck is this?" He asked as soon as you took out a Hello Kitty plushie out of a bag.

-"Uh, a Hello Kitty plushie, duh"

You had gone for some stuff you needed at the supermarket and, as you were about to pay, you saw a Hello Kitty plushie that reminded you of your grumpy boyfriend.

-" It's just that as soon as I saw it I remembered you! So I bought it for you~" you happily explained to him.

-"Why would you remember me after seeing a Hello Kitty plush toy? It's ridiculous" he stated annoyed.

-"But look at her! It's just the clothes and all, it's like you!" you said pouting.

-"Whatever..." he said as he walked away.

You were used to this kind of attitude coming from him, but this time his indifference had made you feel really sad.

-"I'm sorry" you let out in a shaky voice with a few tears forming in your eyes, as you hugged the plushie.

As soon as Sukuna noticed the change in your demeanor he went back to you.

-"Why are you crying?" he questioned as he carefully grabbed your face with both of his hands.

-"I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you with this" you said as you pointed to Hello Kitty -"I just thought that at least it would make you laugh a bit but it was a stupid idea, I'm sorry"

One thing Sukuna hated the most was to see you cry and, now that he had you crying in his arms because of his attitude he felt the worst scum in the world.

-"Shit, I'm sorry y/n, I don't think it's stupid I- I like it..."

He saw as your eyes recovered a bit of their usual glint. -"You do?" You said with hope in your voice.

-"Yes, so stop crying, I hate to see you like that"

He made sure to give you a wet but sweet kiss to make sure you know that he was sorry.

-"Can we cuddle with it?" You asked after the kiss.

He groaned -"Fine"

❥ 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. || 𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖱𝖤𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖳/𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖲𝖫𝖠𝖳𝖤.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader fluff #jjk reader insert #jjk gojo #jjk sukuna

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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Note

okay so 1st of all i love your posts

can you do nanami with a breeding kink plsss

ty <3333

First off thank you so so much!!

And secondly heck yes!! 😏

More Than Words

Summary: Your husband, Nanami Kento decides he’s ready to take your marriage to the next level.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader

Warnings: Teeth rotting fluff! Super romantic, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,704

A/N: This, this did things to me. But I liked it 🥵

Nanami watched you closely from the kitchen. You sat outside on the porch, sipping tea as you scrolled through your phone. The two of you made it a point to spend the evenings outside, enjoying the setting sun and breathing fresh air. He had just been outside with you but excused himself to try and settle his nerves.

He would ask you tonight if you were ready to start trying for a baby.

The thought of having a child hadn’t crossed his mind in your two years of marriage until last weekend. You two had gone to dinner with one of your coworkers, who had just been blessed with a baby boy. You were practically glowing as you held the little boy in your arms. The way you spoke softly, gently rocking them while humming? It was a side of you Nanami had never seen before.

The raw awe and amazement etched on your face was a look he desperately needed to see again. To see you staring at the child you both made would be a sight that would forever linger in his daydreams until he made sure it came true. To step in that direction, he needed to bring it up with you.

You weren’t on birth control. Every single form you tried since you were seventeen made you sick. From the pills to the shots, you considered trying the IUD, but you chicken out at the last second. The entirety of your sexual relationship with Nanami had always been with the use of condoms. So, if you agreed with him, that would mean you’d be doing it raw for the first time in either of your lives.

So he was nervous beyond all words, from wanting to bring a child into the world to experiencing having sex at its rawest form. Thoughts swarmed his mind in a slurry. There was a lot for both of you to consider. Both of you. Nanami couldn’t move forward without talking to you.

With a deep exhale, Nanami headed back outside, shutting the door behind him. “Sorry about that.” He whispered as he sat next to you on the outdoor couch.

“Mmm,” you immediately snuggled next to him, “I was about to call for a search party.” You teased, putting your phone away. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Mhmm,” You could easily see through that heavily played hum. Something was on his mind.

“Nanami Kento, I hate to break it to you, but I know you better than you know yourself. You have something on your mind.” Tilting your head up, you watched the tips of his ears flush before spreading down the nape of his neck. “So, you might as well talk to me.” You paused, “You know, seeing that I’m your wife.” You wiggled your left hand in front of his face—your wedding ring sparkling in the pastel colors of the setting sun.

“My wife.”

Your breath hitched as Nanami’s larger hand wrapped around your smaller one. Bringing your ring to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. His eyes were shut; he looked handsome, pondering whatever clouded his mind. Feeling your gaze on him, Nanami slowly opened his eyes, looking down at you.

“But you’re so much more than just my wife Y/N.” His fingers trailed slowly over your palm, tracing the lines over your skin. “You’re my best friend, partner, the love of my life.” Nanami brought your palm to his mouth, retracing the path of his fingers with his lips. “You’re my purpose, my reason to keep going.”

“Kento.” You whispered in awe as he turned the both of you so you were facing each other head-on.

“My soul.” He placed both hands on yours. “My strength.” You shuddered as his heated palm moved up your arms, trailing them slowly towards your shoulders. “My everything.” You moaned as his hands that so lovingly traced over your arms gently cupped your face. “But I hate to admit that I want more.”

His thumbs lovingly caressed your cheeks, bringing you flush against his chest. “More?” You followed his lead, running your hands slowly down his pecs and over his ab’s, heading towards his crotch. “How much more?” The groan that left his lips was deep and full of unfiltered need.

“I don’t just want you to be my best friend, partner, or wife, Y/N.” His lips were centimeters from yours. Your breath mingled with his as you breathed slowly in the last fragments of sunlight. “I want you to be the mother of my children.”

Kento saw the way your eyes lit up. A glimmering sparkle in Y/E/C irises. Just like you knew him, Kento knew you better than yourself. The way you melted against him, drawing yourself as close as you could on the small loveseat, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

The irrational fears and hesitation vanished as you whimpered. “I want that so bad, Ken; I want to be the moth—“ your husband silenced you with a searing kiss.

You followed his lead, kissing him as his gentle touch turned into something more needy, more primal. There was a desire he’d never felt before boiling deep within his chest. Kento needed you, needed to be buried inside of you, filling you with his cum, ensuring that you would be, without a doubt, pregnant with his child.

He was going to breed you.

Pulling away, you gasped for air, a string of saliva connected between your lips. Nanami’s chest rose and fell with each strangled breath as he so desperately tried to refrain from destroying you. Seeing the conflicted expression on his face, you decided to help. What kind of wife would you be if you didn’t? Dropping to your knees, you slowly pulled the waistband of his lounge pants down.

“Y/N love, what are you doing?”

“Shh~” you glanced at him, “you need to relax. Let me help clear your mind.”

Your delicate fingers traced the v-line of his crotch up and down. His hips jerked up, cock throbbing within his boxers. His brown eyes followed your hands, watching you tug his boxers down. His already hard, throbbing cock smacked against his stomach with a smack, his pre-cum smearing over his toned skin. The sight of his thick length had your mouth watering. Wrapping your hand around the base, you slowly stroked up and down, smearing his pre-cum over his entire length.

“Fuucck,” Nanami’s voice was almost inaudible as he groaned. Hearing him curse like that’s had your cunt throbbing, your slick coating your panties. “Fuck Y/N, that’s feels so fucking good.”

“Oh, my darling husband,” He peered down at you through half-lidded eyes, “you haven’t felt anything yet.” You took him in your mouth, and the salty yet sweet taste of him hit your tastebuds, making you whine around him. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, coating the throbbing tip with your saliva before you moved further down his shaft, gagging as his cock hit the back of your throat.

You slowly lifted your head back up when his hand wrapped into your hair. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for him to slam your back down around his throbbing length. Much to your surprise, he did the complete opposite. Yanking your hair, he practically had to pry you off of him, his chest heaving as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Did you not understand what I said earlier?” He stood, releasing his grip on your hair.

“I did; you want to make babies with me.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, taking your hand in his helping you to your feet. “And how do you suppose I do that if I cum down your throat.” Nanami didn’t even allow you to consider an answer. “Looks like I need to give you a thorough demonstration of how it works.”

“Oh my god!” You laughed as Kento lifted you, carrying you inside towards your bedroom. “I guess a demonstration would be beneficial in this case.” You breathed out breathlessly as he tossed you onto the bed. “Just so you know, I might need several demonstrations.”

“I agree; the more demonstrations, the better.” Your husband grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head before tossing it to the floor. “To start, we need to remove these pesky clothes.”

You tried to keep a serious face as you followed his lead. Shirts, pants, and underwear piled on the floor around your bed. Only once the two of you were bare, Kento situated between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his hips. The giggling and joking around subsided into a comfortable silence. While the room was thick with tension, it didn’t change the fact that both of you were ready for this. To experience making love without a pesky condom.

“Y/N.” Nanami drew your attention to his face as he spoke. “I love you.” His fingers rubbed small lazy circles over your clit. The sensation had you bucking against his hand, eager for more than the gentle caressing he was giving you.

“I-fuck feels good. I love you too, Kento.”

His fingers began moving faster, the circles tighter as his eyes trailed over your body. He was taking a mental picture of you in this moment, imagining how you’d look several months down the road. Breast and belly swollen with the child he put inside of you. You’d be even more gorgeous than you already were, which seemed utterly unfathomable to him. The images of you, pregnant with your child, God, it was more pornographic than any movie or book he’s seen. A lot of it had to be because of you. Nanami was so fucked up over the thought of breeding you.

“Ke-Kento, I-I’m gonna cum!” Your whimpers and whines brought him back to the moment. “Stop. I wanna cum with you inside of me.”

He leaned down, kissing you softly, his hand slowing down. You lazily kissed him back before gasping as you felt his leaking tip rub up and down your slit. Without the condom, you could feel just how hot and hard he was. Kento’s arms were caging around your head. His wide eyes mirrored what you imagined you looked like. The feeling of your bare wet pussy felt-ten times better than he imagined. And he wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’re so wet,” his eyes fluttered shut, “you felt good every time I slid into you before, but this, god, this is going to be a whole new experience.”

“Y-Yeah feels good, though.”

“Very good.”

Nanami continued gritting his teeth as he slowly slid into you. Your silky wet, warm walls hugged his cock in a way he could never experience with condoms before. The raw feeling had him clenching his fists into the covers, furrowing his brows together as he desperately tried not to cum inside of you like a virgin. He needed to focus on something other than your pussy, so he focused his attention on your face.

Which was a major mistake on his part.

Cheeks flushed; your mouth was frozen in an ‘O’ shape. And fuck, the whimpers and way your chest heaved it made his knees weak. “S-So hot, oh my god Kento your cock is so hot and velvety.” His eyes were as wide as saucers as you slowly began rocking against him, trying to get his thick, cock deeper inside of you. “Please don’t stop, fuck me, please fuck me. Need to feel you, I need more.” Between your cunt squeezing him and the needy tone of your voice, Nanami lost all self control.

His hips slammed against your, causing a scream to escape you as your arched your back off the bed. As soon as he was buried deep inside your wet pussy, he was pulling out before slamming back inside your tight spongy walls. You were hit with a sudden wave or revelation as to why people hated wearing condoms. They prevent you from feeling the velvety smooth pull of your husband cock as he slammed into you over and over again. You could feel his cock throbbing, leaking inside of you, God it felt so good to be fucking you raw like this.

“Fuck your pussy is perfect, so fucking wet, so tight just for me.” His lips pressed against your, his thrusts finding the perfect rhythm as you cried into his mouth.

“Yes Ken, yes, fuck me, fuck me!”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll get pregnant off the first try.” He chuckled his hands groping your breasts, kneading them. Nanami whined, picturing them swollen with milk. “Even if that happens, I’m just going to keep fucking you full of me cum, just to be safe. God fuck Y/N!” His shameless words had you drowning in pleasure as you twitched around his perfect cock. “Ah~ fuck I felt you twitch. You like knowing that your husband is going to stop at nothing, until your breed?”

“Oh, oh fuck, yes, I want it, I want it!”

“Such a sweet girl, you want it?” He groaned in your ear, feeling you clamp down harder around him as his thrusts losing his rhythm. “Tell me you want me to breed you. Tell me you want me to be the first and only man to fill your tight cunt with cum.”

“Kento~ nngh, yes, breed me, make me yours in every way you can! Cum inside me, please, please!” Your begging, the moans, only had him whining and growling louder, fucking into you like he never had before. So rough, so passionately, it was perfect. All through subsided as you cried out Nanami had angled his hips to brush against your g-spot before pressing directly into your cervix. “Holy fuck yes, fill me up Ken!”

More dirty words and curses spilled from your tongue as you felt yourself approaching your orgasm. The tightening coil in your lower abdomen, had your withering under your husband. Your squirming had Nanami fucking harder into you, His mouth on yours as he made love to you like the world was going to end. In his horny brain it might just happen if he didn’t fuck his cum into you soon.

“That’s it, good girl, good fucking girl~ take it, fucking take all of it.” His thrusts were jerky, his balls tightening as your dug your heels into his ass, successfully pulling his deeper inside of you. “Ah fuck! You’re such a good girl, so eager to be the future mother of my children.” All you were capable of doing was nodding as you cried out around him with each deep thrust. “Fuck, get pregnant Y/N, cum on my cock, and milk me for all that I’m worth.”

“K-Kento! Ken!”

“That’s it, love~ fuckin’ cum, cum all over me, good girl.”

“Nnngh!!” A scream ripped through your throat as Kento sped up, his thumb rubbing your clit as you came, extending your orgasm.

Your cum coated his cock, the warm slickness and you throbbing walls urged him to do exactly what he had been promising to do. “Get pregnant, take it, take all my cum. I’m cumming, oh my god I’m cumm-“ Kento cut himself off by slamming his lips against your, his tongue slid into your mouth as he moaned. His cock spurted and spurted, filling you full of his cum the sensation was strange, warm, and new.

But it felt so fucking good.

Pulling away from you, Kento gasped for air as he reached up gentle caressing your face as you both tried to catch your breath. Once Nanami managed to swallow down enough air to slow his heart rate, he beamed down at you. “Y/N I love you.” He didn’t say anything else, because his loving touch, and the gentle kisses he peppered over your face spoke volumes.

Those strong loving arms held you close, pulling you onto your sides. His cock keeping your bodies connected as he spooned you. Your husband loved you more than words could describe. The mere gentleness of this moment, had you praying that if you were to get pregnant, this was the moment it happened.

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luvsugu · 9 months

Text

gojo's the clingy kind of guy that just NEEDS to have some part of his body touching you.

fluff!!! all fluff!!!!!! supppper clingy gojo x reader, reader has their nails done sometimes, general blurb tbh (not rly a one shot or anything like that), lots of physical touching bc thats what clingy gojo needs,

it truly doesn't matter what, but as long as you two are actually physically connected, he's satisfied. it's obviously horrendous at home when he has unlimited access to you, whining about the most absurd way he needs to have physical contact with you. he likes napping on his stomach with you on top of him in whatever way you please, just wanting to feel your weight against him and have your hand carressing the back of his neck; he also likes sitting side by side at the dinner table so that he could eat with one of his legs just casually stretched out behind yours or even eating with one hand so he can have the other draped around your shoulder or your wasit; and he most definitely likes taking showers together, washing each other's backs and especially having you wash his hair (and of course having you blowdry it afterwards).

he's just a clingy guy because, well, he's lost too much and sometimes he can't be home. this is something you truly need to understand about him and see it as a vulnerability. all he needs is love and it gives him so much reassurance when you let him be as close as he needs.

and he always compromises in public. he knows how annoying extreme pda could be, and he never wants you to feel embarrassed. so he has his own little quirky ways of keeping in touch. when you both are at school and attending meetings, he's always seated beside you, manspreading like a whore but to make sure his knee touched yours. or he brings an arm behind your seat to gently fiddled with the collar of your uniform. sometimes, he's got his pinky linked with yours under the conference table or massging your hand while yaga yapayapayapas about whatever it is (you need to reexplain it all to gojo later).

at restaurants, when it's just the two of you, he opts to sit in front of you. this way he can stretch his legs out on either side of yours and keep you caged in, occasionally giving you a squeeze by bringing his legs together. sometimes he's even reaching for your hand over the table, letting his fingers fiddle with yours when you tell him about stuff he's missed since he was gone. whenever you two are out with friends, however, he always sits beside you and he's got a hand on your thigh. sometimes it's just resting on top of your thigh, sometimes he's holding you by the inner side of your thigh, sometimes he's got his hand across your lap to pull you closer by your thigh that's farthest from him. if not your thigh, sometimes his arm is behind your seat, or he has you sit up a little farther up so that he could rest a hand on your lower back (maybe even around your waist or on your hip). it's not unusual to also have a hand on his lap where he's got both of his own giving yours a massage. he's interlocking your fingers, giving you squeezes, kneading at the muscles on your palm. he's letting your nails gently glide across the length of his fingers down to his palm, and when you've got charms on them, he's gently tracing them with his thumb.

all in all, gojo's just a clingy guy whose love language juuuuust might be physical touch.

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just-jordie-things · 1 year

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dreams to be desired - fushiguro megumi

word count: 7.3k warnings: swearing, implied smut (smutty without being smut bc i'm shy) summary: you know megumi dreams about you, but he’s still too reserved to make the first move. oh well, you’ll just take matters into your own hands. more info: all characters are aged up! jujutsu tech is a college in this fic

It was getting warm in the small dorm, and if Megumi thought twice about it he might have been uncomfortable with his shirt sticking to his back, but any thoughts of getting up to turn on his fan went out the window as a gentle pair of hands grabbed the offending material and teasingly began to lift.

(y/n’s) giggling was soft enough in his ear that he almost couldn’t hear it over the deafening sound of his own heart pounding. He tried to steady his breath so that he could better focus on the girl in front of him.

It was a miracle that she was here, sitting before him in his own bed. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve her presence at this time of night, but upon feeling the cool pads of her fingertips tracing upwards over his abdomen, he let the thought disappear with that of the fan across the room.

“Your skin’s hot,” She murmurs, her lips still close to his ear, before she leans back to look at him. “Maybe this should come off, hm?” She asks, tugging further on his tee shirt.

Reaching one hand behind his back, he made great haste in pulling the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor without a glance. The sudden burst in confidence wasn’t like Megumi, but deep down he knew this was a rare opportunity, and he wasn’t about to waste a single minute.

(y/n) grins in amusement, which slowly fades into a smirk as her eyes wander down his exposed chest. She leans forward on her knees, her eyes slowly falling shut, but before she could plant her lips on his, his hands stop her.

Her eyes open suddenly, brow raised in curiosity as to why in the world he would stop her. He’s smiling at her.

She looks down at his hands on her waist, fingers tracing the lacy edges of her tank top.

“Your turn,” He murmurs, azure eyes trailing slowly down to where his hands held her shirt- if you could even call it that. The thin black fabric left very little to the imagination, and yet his heart was racing as his hands slowly slid under the fabric, curling around her waist. “Fair’s fair”

She’s giggling again, and Megumi wonders briefly if it’s possible to get drunk off of a sound.

“I ‘spose I can’t argue with that”

He’s heard that teasing lilt in her voice before, that false saccharine that makes him second guess his every move, his every word. Normally he’d fluster, turn away with a ‘tch’ and hope that his dismissal was enough to make her leave him alone, so that he could hide his red tinted ears that always gave him away before the blush on his cheeks.

Tonight he doesn’t shy away from her playfulness. Instead, his lips curl into an almost devious grin as she follows his command.

She shoos his hands away from her waist, taking the hem of her shirt in her hands and pulling the fabric upwards in a tantalizingly slow motion. Megumi’s tempted to rip the fabric clean over her head in one foul swoop, but he bites his lip and does his best to remain patient.

If she wanted to make a whole show of it, then who was he to rush things? He’d waited this long for his shot with her, it would be silly for him to complain about how slowly she took her clothes off.

Besides, to his amusement, he finally got to see what her preferred color of lingerie was.

Pink.

He had to admit, he was a little surprised. His mouth watered.

She’s wearing her own grin as she finally clutches the skimpy tank top in one hand, letting it fall to the ground to be forgotten with his own shirt.

Megumi lets himself marvel at her beautiful, perfect, angelic body for just a moment longer. Slowly, his hooded eyes trail up her torso , creeping over every inch of exposed skin and lacy pink fabric until they meet hers.

Without a second longer wasted, the pair dart towards one another, lips colliding in a heated kiss. His hands wander everywhere they can reach, warm palms leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s humming, almost purring, contentedly into her mouth with every soft patch of skin that he’s able to touch.

Her hands reach for his chest again, smoothing over his collarbones before trailing down, down, slower with every passing second. He’d never pegged her for such a tease, or perhaps she was just trying to take in as much of him as he was of her. Her hands finally pause just above his trousers, fingers just barely hooking into the fabric. Just enough to make him shudder at the thought of them traveling further.

“(y/n/n)...” He murmurs, lips tracing up her jaw on one side, the other side cupped securely in his large hand to keep her in place.

“What?”

“(y/n)...” He voices again, reaching a tender spot just below her ear.

“What?” She asks again, beginning to laugh. But it wasn’t her previous flirty giggle, it was a boisterous cackle. A masculine one.

Megumi retreats from her neck, his brows in a knot.

“Did you say (y/n)?” She asks, but it’s most certainly not her voice.

In fact, it’s clearly Yuuji’s. ___

Megumi shoots upright in bed, chest heaving from the harsh awakening. And to his dismay, there was Yuuji, bent over and cackling so hard his face was red.

“Have a nice sleep?” Yuuji asks when he finally catches his breath. He brings a hand to his face to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“I was,” Megumi grumbled. “What’re you doing in my room?”

“Well, I came to see if you wanted to go on a run with me,” Yuuji says, plopping himself into Megumi’s desk chair, swiveling back and forth like a child. “You didn’t answer the door, figured I’d wake you up, you don’t usually sleep in. But you must’ve been reeaall comfortable”

He’s grinning so wide that Megumi’s surprised his face doesn’t split right in two.

“Shut up” He muttered, dropping back down onto his pillow.

“(y/n/n), ooh, (y/nnn),” Yuuji mimics. “You said her name a lot”

Megumi grabs the sides of his pillow with his fists and closes it tightly against his ears. It’s not enough to drown out Yuuji’s voice in the slightest.

“I knew you had a thing for her. I can’t wait to see her reaction when I tell her you were having a wet dream about her,” He giggles, and despite all his teasing, his cheeks were flushed pink at the thought.

“Don’t you dare” The annoyed boy growls, dropping his pillow and sitting up again to properly glare at his so-called friend.

“Oh come on, she’d love it!” Yuuji exclaims. “She has a thing for you too. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s had her fair share of steamy dreams about you”

Megumi rolls his eyes. Of all the possible people that could have walked in to hear him muttering her name in his sleep, Yuuji was probably the worst possible choice.

Why couldn’t it have been Inumaki? At least he wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone.

“So, a run?” Yuuji asks.

Megumi grabs his pillow from behind it and chucks it at him. Yuuji dodges with ease.

“That a no?”

“Get out”

When he’s gone, Megumi collapses back into his mattress, hiding his face in his hands and groaning.

This is what he gets for enjoying something for once. He can’t even have a scrap of peace in his dreams. ___

“(y/n)! Nobara!”

Yuuji jogs to catch up with his classmates who had just been wandering towards the front gates. Both girls stopped in their tracks, turning to see their pink haired friend breaking into a sprint.

“Why’s he running so fast?” (y/n) asks.

“I don’t know. But it’s too late to out run him now” Nobara mutters, placing her hands on her hips as she glares at their approaching classmate.

(y/n) hums in agreement.

When Yuuji finally gets within hearing range, she calls out to him.

“I thought you were going to run with Megumi?”

“Oh, he was not in the mood” Yuuji laughs as if it was an inside joke.

(y/n) and Nobara shared a look, each telling the other not to ask what was so funny, for the sake of time. Sometimes the things Yuuji found funny didn’t make sense, and it was just better to go along with it.

“Well, we’re not in the mood either,” Nobara speaks up. “We’re going shopping”

“You can come if you want,” (y/n) offers kindly, earning a side glare from Nobara. “But we’ll be out all day. Might be worth it to wait around to hang with Megumi instead”

“I don’t think he’s going to speak to me for the rest of the day,” Yuuji shakes his head. “Maybe the rest of time,” He mutters.

Both girls don’t really react. It wasn’t unlike Megumi to be pouting and dishing out the silent treatment to Yuuji. Or anyone, really.

“But he’d probably still speak to you (y/n)” He adds with a high pitched lilt to his voice.

(y/n’s) brows furrow.

“Huh?”

Yuuji does a little shoulder shimmy that only furthers her confusion.

(y/n’s) eyes slide over to Nobara, hoping the short haired girl would provide some insight to their friend’s weird, weird antics. But she only rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“Spit it out, Itadori” Nobara barks.

Yuuji giggles, hiding his grin behind his hand as he stares at (y/n), who’s growing increasingly concerned for his well being.

Maybe I should hang out with him more, she thinks. Is he not getting enough attention..?

“I can’t tell,” He says, still squealing behind his hands. “But it’s juicy!”

(y/n) blinks, wondering where in the world Yuuji got hot gossip from. Not that he didn’t have friends, anyone who’s ever met him was his friend. But there weren’t exactly a lot of people at Jujutsu Tech, and everyone got along fairly well. So juicy gossip was hard to come by.

(The closest thing that ever came to it was when Panda caught Maki blushing over a photo of Yuta, but as soon as he dared tease her for it, he was on the ground. So that was deemed off limits)

“Spill!” Nobara darted forward, grabbing Yuuji by the shoulders. “Spill! Now!”

“I told you! I can’t!” Yuuji shrieked.

Nobara grimaced, and began to shake him by the shoulders at a dangerous speed, sending his head knocking back and forth.

“If you don’t tell me the juicy gossip right now I’ll murder you!” She threatened. “Is it about me!?”

Yuuji grumbled noises of protest until she stopped shaking him. His eyes blinked heavily as he tried to fight the dizziness that washed over him.

“I think ‘m gonna be sick” He muttered, holding a hand to his head.

(y/n) frowned, stepping forward and raising his head to check his eyes.

“You’re fine,” She told him with certainty. “But you better fess up before she freaks out. What’d you hear?”

“Is it bad?” Nobara asks, her lips curling into a frown, (y/n) looks over at her, wondering the same thing. Why else would he be so weird about spilling the beans that he brought up first? “Are people talking shit about me?”

“Are people talking shit about her?” (y/n) whips her head around at lightning speed, and her fists grab the collar of his uniform, dragging him in close. Close enough that he can see the violent glint in her eye that she usually only gets when she’s taking down a curse. He swallows thickly, never having been so intimidated by the normally sweet girl.

“N-no!” Yuuji shakes his head rapidly. “No one’s talking shit about anyone!”

(y/n) drops her hands from his shirt and takes a step backwards so she was out of his personal space.

“Oh” Nobara mumbles, almost sounding disappointed. (y/n) and Yuuji share a confused look, before (y/n) gets back on track.

“Then what is so juicy that you’re giggling?”

Yuuji’s bubbly laughter returns as he remembers what he was so giddy about in the first place. (y/n’s) eye twitches with impatience.

“Someone has a crush on you” He sing-songs.

(y/n) blinks wide, almost owlishly so, slowly processing his words.

A crush?

“Ohmygosh!” Nobara squeals, suddenly sounding just like Yuuji. She bounces on her feet and nearly pushes (y/n) aside to get up in his face. “Who! Who! Who!?”

This time when she grabs him by the shoulders to shake him, Yuuji is quick to pry her hands off.

A crush on me? (y/n) ponders to herself. As intrigued as she was, her heart sinks a little bit as an awkward feeling spreads throughout her stomach. Guilt, perhaps. The feeling surely crept around her insides like guilt did. I already have feelings for someone, she winced. And those feelings are definitely not going anywhere anytime soon.

“It wouldn’t be right if I-”

“Itadori Yuuji if you don’t tell me right now I’ll kill you!”

“Would you stop threatening me?” Yuuji shrieked.

“Then stop baiting us and spill-!”

“Nobara,” (y/n) spoke, catching both of her friends’ attention. “It’s okay,” She says. “He doesn’t have to say anything”

“What!?” Nobara and Yuuji squawk in unison.

“I don’t need to know,” (y/n) shrugged lamely. “It’s fine”

“Seriously?” Nobara gawks. “Someone’s in love with you and you’re not dying to know who?”

“I didn’t say that exactly” Yuuji mumbled under his breath.

“No,” (y/n) replies nonchalantly. “I don’t need to know. Clearly they don’t want me to, so it’s not my business, right?”

“No!” Nobara hollered. “It’s all of our business!”

(y/n) chuckles to herself at her friend’s bewilderment. She supposed it made sense. Anyone who’s heart wasn’t spoken for would have happily accepted the news of a secret admirer.

“You made it our business,” Nobara glared Yuuji down, shoving her finger into his chest. “And if you don’t tell us right now who (y/n’s) little valentine is then I’ll-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll rip my throat out,” Yuuji put his hands up in defeat. “Look, all that’s fair of me to say, is I caught him this morning when I was trying to have a running buddy,”

That piqued (y/n’s) interest, and suddenly she was all ears to what Yuuji had to say. Because to her knowledge, Yuuji had only visited one person this morning.

“But he was fast asleep. Like a baby. A little baby dreaming and moaning, (y/n/n), oh (y/n/n)...” He trailed off making kissy faces while Nobara’s jaw dropped open.

“No way Megumi had a sexy dream about (y/n)!” She screeched.

Yuuji could have sworn he saw birds flee from trees upon the high pitched scream.

“I said I couldn’t say!” Yuuji declared, raising his hands in innocence.

“But you did,” Nobara accused, a wicked grin on her face. “That’s fucking crazy! I can’t believe Megumi’s got a thing for you!”

She spun around on her heel, curious towards (y/n’s) reaction.

“Yeah, wh-who knew…” (y/n) mumbled, eyes glazed over as she was clearly somewhere else at the moment.

Nobara and Yuuji glanced at each other, indulging in an excited look.

Surprise, excitement, nervousness, desire, happiness, all these emotions hit (y/n) like a truck.

Megumi had a dream about me? A sexy dream? The thought made her stomach flood with butterflies.

“But that- that doesn’t mean he has feelings for me,” (y/n) stammers out, finally looking over to her friends, as if waiting for them to confirm with her. “Right? I mean, anyone can have, uh, wet dreams. It’s not like you have control over them”

Nobara rolls her eyes. “Don’t be stupid”

Yuuji giggles some more. “Only one way to find out!”

“What’s that?” (y/n) asks.

“By messing with him!” ___

With the plan of shopping officially scrapped, (y/n) wipes her clammy palms on the front of her uniform skirt. As fun as the idea was at first, now that it was in motion, she thought she could puke.

It’s just the butterflies, she tells herself. She’s never really been a shoot-your-shot kind of girl, rather a hope-they-can-feel-me-staring-and-that’s-enough-to-let-them-know-I’m-interested type.

“That’s idiotic!” Maki had barked in response.

(y/n) wasn’t sure when Maki and Toge had gotten roped into this, but here they were, involved, in… whatever this was. A trap?

It was sort of a trap, she supposed, just not the fun kind that resulted in exorcizing a curse. The nerve wracking kind, where she had to go persuade Megumi into making a move without giving away that Yuuji blabbed his fat mouth.

“(y/n), listen to me carefully,” Maki said, in the sweetest voice (y/n) had ever heard from her.

The intimidating woman placed her hands on her shoulders, and crouched over enough to look her directly in the eyes. All of the contact made her fluster and her face feel hot.

Fuck. If I fluster this much now, how am I supposed to seduce Megumi into admitting he has feelings for me? God, I’m such a fool, I should put a stop t this before I can’t turn back-

“You’re hot,” Maki states, matter-of-factly. “You’re the hottest person here,”

Nobara scoffed, earning a swat to the back of the head from Yuuji.

“And anyone would be so lucky to have sex dreams about you,” Maki continued. Every word boosted (y/n’s) confidence, but the butterflies in her stomach continued their ruthless crusade. “And men are stupid. Especially Megumi. He’s stupid for not making a move. And now you have to make him pay, understand?”

(y/n) gulped, and nodded her head.

“So. Be a big girl. Hike up your skirt and unbutton your shirt. Then go seduce the hell out of him”

(y/n) nods again, fingers readily undoing the top button of her uniform, revealing her collarbone.

“Are we sure that I can’t just ask him on a date?” She asks.

“Tch,” Maki’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. She reached forward, grabbing the second button of (y/n’s) shirt and in a swift motion popped it open too.

Did she have first hand experience in seduction or something? (y/n) wondered as she stared down at the tease of skin that was exposed. Just a little bit of cleavage, she supposed just enough to make someone want to see more.

“This is much more fun. Yeah?” Maki asked, followed by a wink.

(y/n) let out a shaky breath.

“Fine,” She agreed, earning quiet cheers from the group of friends who were here to support this ridiculous plan. “Okay. I’m gonna go do it” She said, more to herself than anyone else. And with that, she spun on her heel and headed off to find her target.

As she wandered the campus, she tried to keep her thoughts confident. She was beautiful, and she knew it, but that didn’t mean her confidence was always at it’s peak.

Maybe Gojo would have been a good person to get confidence advice from, she thought briefly, but it was too late now to track down her teacher. The plan was in motion, and she needed to see it through before she could chicken out.

Besides, she was curious about this dream of Megumi’s, and if this was how she was going to get answers, so be it!

She finally found him just as she was heading out of the school, he just so happened to be jogging up the stairs.

The seduction plan left her mind for a moment, replaced with more innocent thoughts of how cute he looked in his casual clothes. She especially liked when he wore a plain white button up and trousers, as simple as it was, it just looked striking on him.

“Hey, (y/n),” Megumi greeted upon nearing the top of the steps where she stood.

His eyes noticeably widened for a moment, taking in the shorter length of her skirt that showcased her long legs (did they even have an end?) and was her shirt unbuttoned more than usual?

“You goin’ out?” He asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“No, actually,” (y/n) replied, and reminded herself what it was she was after. “I was actually looking for you”

“Oh?” Megumi hums, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Well, you found me”

He’s standing just a couple steps from the top, so he’s just about eye level with her. Boldly, (y/n) takes a step forward, closing a significant amount of space between them, leaving only a few inches of room between her body and his.

“I like that shirt on you, you know,” She says, doing her best to keep her voice even, and surprisingly, it was well.

Megumi had to hold his breath to keep himself from choking on air. She liked how he looked?

“I think it makes you look taller” She adds, gaining a little more confidence in her words.

“Maybe you’re just short enough that I always look taller?” Megumi replies, but his voice is just a little more quiet than he means it to be.

Was he nervous? Was this little stunt actually working?

“You might be right” She smiles.

“Is that why you were looking for me?” He asked, raising a brow. “To compliment me?”

She lets out a little giggle, and the sound instantly brings back images from his dream last night. It sounded nearly identical to the hazy, flirty giggles she’d made in his subconscious.

Thinking about that now makes his stomach drop and his face suddenly feel warm. He hopes- no- prays that he’s not blushing right now. To any deity that would listen.

“No, you just distracted me, s’all,” She finally answers him.

Megumi’s holding his breath again. He distracted her? When she’s standing there looking like that?

“I was looking for you because I could use some help with a history assignment, and I know you’re the go-to. Do you have a minute?”

Even if he was overwhelmingly busy, he still would have nodded his head and happily spent the rest of the night helping her with her studies.

“Yeah, sure” He says with a kind smile.

(y/n) grins ear to ear.

“Perfect,” She says. “Come with me”

With that, she’s grabbing his wrist and pulling him behind her. He stumbles for a second, surprised from the contact and sudden control she took over him.

He’s not sure he’s ever really touched her, beyond some training, or maybe if they were squeezed next to each other on the couch for movie night. But having her pulling on his arm as she leads him who knows where had his heart racing more than it probably should have.

She brings him all the way to the library, which is empty seeing as it’s a weekend and everyone is doing anything but studying right now. He’s sure most of their classmates aren’t even on campus.

“What’s the assignment for, again?” Megumi asks.

“The Paranormal of the Middle Ages,” (y/n) replies, which isn’t a lie, she does have to write a paper, but it’s not due for another few weeks. Normally she wouldn’t get started on it until the week it’s due.

History is her best subject after all.

“Any recommendations on where to start?”

She finally drops his hand, turning to look at him. She’s still awfully close, he has to tilt his head down to meet her gaze, which he quickly turns away from, scanning the bookshelves.

“Uh, actually, yeah I do,” He says sheepishly. “Here, follow me”

She follows the command, and keeps up with his quick strides to the corner where the history books were stocked.

When he gets to the shelf he was looking for, he quickly scans along the spines of books to find the one he’d read just a few months ago.

“Looking for something specific?” (y/n) asks, standing close by his side.

His eyes barely meet hers before returning to the books, unable to look at her when she’s this close.

Does she even realize? She’s not usually like this, right?

“Yeah, I actually read something I read not too long ago. It’ll do for your report, but, uhm, you might actually like it”

“A personal recommendation,” (y/n) muses with a smile. “I’m sure to like it then”

He finally finds the text he was looking for and he thanks the stars he did because his head was starting to feel dizzy and light from her sweet perfume lingering around him. Despite how cloudy it made his head, he hoped the scent lingered on him later.

“There you are,” He says, plucking the book from the shelf and handing it to her.

(y/n) steps even closer, and he hesitates on the thought of stepping back, but ultimately decides he’d be an idiot if he didn’t entertain every second of having her this close to him.

When she takes the book from him, her fingers brush over his for just long enough that it couldn’t have been accidental, but he’s too consumed by his own nerves to call her on it.

“It- uh- it should have everything, I don’t think y-you’d need another one, for the report,” He’s stammering, and she looks up at him, still smiling. Was she enjoying this? Was this on purpose? “Unless you want? Do you need more than one source?”

He knows that she heard him, but she just stands there, her eyes flickering between his curiously. Was she reading him? Is that what this was? Some test? She wanted information out of him?

He was so busy investigating this little act, if he could even call it that, that he almost missed her setting the book back on the shelf.

“Megumi,” His name falls off of her lips, in almost a coo it’s so quiet. “Are you nervous?”

No, of course not! He wants to deny right away, but she’s peering up at him from under those long lashes of hers, and she smells so good that he thinks he’s already putty in her hands, and it would be useless to try to convince her of anything else.

“What are you doing?” He asks instead, in a hushed voice as if there was anyone who could overhear.

But again, it’s a Saturday, and they’re in a library, completely alone.

(y/n) turns, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling too much. She leans back against the bookcase casually, before shrugging her shoulders.

“Can I tell you something personal, Megumi?” She asks, softly, because he leans in a bit closer when she whispers, and she likes having him too close to her. “It’s a little embarrassing,” She says, smiling down at the ground.

He steps closer, nodding his head. He reaches a clammy palm to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing the spot.

“It’s silly, but I thought you might be able to help,” She says, tilting her head to the side as she looks up at him again, wanting to watch his every reaction to what she was going to say next. “There’s a guy” She whispers, even softer than before.

Fuck. Seriously? She wants boy advice? Megumi mentally face-palms. He has to fight to keep his expression neutral. I thought for a second there she could have been coming onto me. Clearly she just wanted advice from a friend.

“A guy?”

She nods, not breaking eye contact with him.

“Yeah, a guy,” She sighs. “And I really like him. I can’t stop thinking about him, it’s driving me crazy” She lets her eyes flutter shut, her head falling back, pushing against the books behind her.

Megumi’s eyes wander the features of her face, and he feels ridiculous for thinking about how perfect she looks, even more angelic than she had in his dreams. How could she stand here, and look this good, smell this good, and talk to him about how some guy makes her feel.

“You- uh… you sure you don’t want to talk to Kugisaki about this?” He asks, and starts to brush past her to leave. “I’ll go find her”

(y/n’s) hand grabs his wrist before he can walk away, and her grip isn’t strong at all, but it’s enough to make him stand before her.

“No,” She hums. “Talking to her won’t really help me, I don’t think”

Why the hell am I the go-to? Megumi thinks. We’ve never once talked about this stuff. Anyone would be better to confide in than me.

But he lets out a breath and nods, staying put in front of her.

“Fine,” He mumbles. “What is it then? You want to ask him out or something?”

A beam spreads over (y/n’s) lips.

“Sort of. Not exactly,” She says, her eyes trailing away from his, daring to land on his pink lips for a few seconds too long for it to be discreet.

Unconsciously, and anxiously, Megumi licks his dry lips and hopes she would get this over with quickly. He’s so close to her, and with her back to the bookshelf, he feels increasingly more tempted to close the last of the distance between them, shove her back into the shelf and kiss her senseless.

He shifts on his feet, trying to think of anything but that.

“I kind of want to make him squirm first,” She admits.

You’ve already got that mastered, Megumi thinks, only sort of bitterly.

“See, he’s really been on my mind, Megumi,” She sighs, and he wants to scowl at her for saying his name like that, like she was out of breath.

Against his will, his dream resurfaces in his mind.

His eyes glance down to her mouth, turned into a little pout.

“It’s been distracting, honestly. I can’t go a minute without thinking about him, I can’t focus on work, or training. I was supposed to go shopping with Nobara today, ya’know,”

Curse her for saying things that should be breaking his heart, but the look on her face is all too enticing for him to walk away from. He’s trying not to frown, but the more she talks about how this guy has occupied her every thought, the more stormy he feels.

I’ll have to get a name out of her so I can find him and scare the shit out of him, a lightbulb blinks over Megumi’s head. Surely he’s not deserving of all this attention she’s giving him anyways. No guy deserves a girl like her.

“I think I’m getting off track,” (y/n) giggles again, and Megumi’s eyes snap back to hers. He realizes he’s been staring at her lips for far too long, and heat crawls up his neck. “What the real problem is I can’t even escape him in my sleep” She says.

The heat in his neck and face is replaced instantly with ice cold fear.

“Like- like in your dreams?” He stammers, more nervous now than he had been during this entire interaction.

(y/n) nods slowly, keeping her eyes on his.

“Yeah,” She mumbles. “Like in my dreams,”

How could she have known? Yuuji? Would he have really told her? No, maybe he didn’t, maybe this is just coincidence.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, and then she’s leaning forward, pushing onto the tips of her toes to reach impossibly closer to him.

His eyes, blown wide, follow her every movement, until she’s hovering just before him, the tip of her nose almost brushing into his.

“Thing is,” She murmurs, cool, strawberry mint breath fanning over his lips, and he has to fight his own eyes to stay open. “I know he thinks about me too,”

His fingers twitch at his sides, dying to reach out and grab her by her hips, like it was the sole purpose of his hands.

Her cruel eyes rest on his lips, because she can’t help herself. They’re pink, and look plush, and she can only imagine how amazing they’d feel against her own, against her skin, anywhere he’d like to place them, she’d surely let him without any fight.

She lets her gaze meet his slowly, letting him know exactly where she was looking, and exactly what she was thinking.

Megumi thinks he’s never felt so much pent up tension in his life.

“But I just can’t seem to get him to make a damn move,” She finishes her thought while she tries to pick out every shade of blue in his irises, which are nearly blown by his pupils.

(y/n) thinks she’s never felt so in need in her life.

She’s glad that she talked her friends out of spying on this little scheme, instead talking them into an all day shopping spree- which once she’d suggested, Nobara had practically dragged the whole gang out to the front gates.

“So Megumi,” She hums, leaning away from him, resting her back against the bookshelf again, amused at his rigid stance. “Any thoughts? What could I do to make it clear to him how I feel, because to be honest with you, he seems a little dense at times”

She takes him in, all of him, now that she has a little distance from him. Which isn’t saying much, since he’s literally standing toe to toe with her. His height towers over hers, so even if she’s not on the tips of her toes to be face to face, it still feels like he’s completely surrounding her.

His fingers are tapping at his leg at a rapid, unsteady pace. He bites his lip roughly and then releases, tongue darting out to soothe the ache, and his eyes can barely stay on her. But even as they dart around, they always make their way back, and there she is, still staring at him.

She waits patiently, because she has all the time in the world.

This is a test, Megumi thinks, his thoughts running through his head a million miles a minute. It has to be a test. And I’m failing by just standing here and not saying anything. She’s going to walk away if I don’t say something.

He’s not sure where this came from, this sudden change in demeanor, the change in her uniform, all of it. It’s truly dizzying, and he’s not thinking clearly. He doesn’t like having a hazy mind, he likes to stay sharp, vigilant.

But how could he be expected to do that when she’s here before him like this?

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

He just acts.

His lips are against hers and she’s shoved into the bookshelf so fast she squeaks in surprise before melting into him, and passionately returning the kiss.

His large palms grab at her lips, keeping her flush against him and while also keeping her pinned to the shelf. She hums into his mouth, a little sound of delight as her own hands grab the collar of his shirt, fisting the material tightly. It almost grounds her, because as soon as Megumi kissed her, she was ten feet off the ground, and then fifteen, and soon she was floating away into the clouds.

(y/n) gasps as he prods her mouth open, his tongue swiping over her bottom lip before temptation gives in and he sinks his teeth into it. She whimpers when he releases and goes back to kissing her feverishly.

His palms are hot even through the material of her shirt, and she’s dying to feel his skin against hers.

Megumi decides rather quickly that he wants to take his time devouring her, and to do that, he was going to have to find a more comfortable position so that he wasn’t craning his neck so much.

Acting quickly, his hands wandered down from her hips, and he had to crouch a bit just to reach her ass.

“Jump” He ordered gruffly, and (y/n) wasted no time in following the instruction.

His hands held her securely as she wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped into his chest. Her legs wound around his narrow hips with ease, and as soon as he had her pressed into the shelf again, Megumi was kissing her exposed collarbone, grazing his teeth ever so gently against her skin.

(y/n’s) fingers tangle into his hair as his lips travel up her neck, pressing featherlight kisses against the more sensitive skin.

“Megumi,” She mewls as his nose prods against her earlobe so he can reach the sweet spot at the junction of her neck and jaw.

It’s like her voice goes straight to dick, and heat pools in his lower abdomen.

In return, he sucks harshly at the spot he’d previously been leaving little kisses. Her fingers tighten in his hair.

“Megumi,” She calls his name again, breathless, while hands sliding down the nape of his neck before they grip his shoulders. He pulls away, panting slightly as his hooded eyes meet hers. “Why didn’t you…sooner...”

She trails off, her lust blown eyes falling to his swollen lips, and she almost forgets her question as she thinks about grabbing his bottom lip with her teeth and sucking on it to her heart’s content.

“What is it, angel?” He murmurs, pushing his nose against her as he blindly leans in to steal another kiss. “What do you need?”

His lips brush over hers as he speaks, and a shiver runs down her spine that she knows he feels, because she can feel his smirk on her own lips and she wants nothing more than to never speak again so that she can always have his mouth on hers.

“Need you” Her voice is so small that if she wasn’t whimpering directly into his mouth he would have never heard it.

Fuck, is Megumi glad that he got back to the school just in time to catch her on the stairs. What luck he had to run into her when he did.

He grins, before sealing their lips in a messy, hot kiss. (y/n’s) hands claw at his shoulders, and then grip the material of his shirt, so tight her knuckles ache. But she’s overwhelmed with the heat- the heat of his body, the heat between her legs, the heat of his skin.

A coy smile curls at the edge of his lips, and as desperate as he is to keep her mouth occupied by his, he can’t help but tilt his head back, just enough to get a good look at her.

At first she tilts forward, chasing his lips, before realizing he wasn’t going to cave back into her. Her bottom lip juts out in the slightest pout as her eyes flutter open.

Her brows draw together in the smallest movement. Her eyes are puzzled, but she doesn’t ask him why he stopped. She simply takes the time to admire her features, while he does the same.

Megumi’s eyes trace every inch of her face, as if he hasn’t already committed every feature, every dip curve and freckle, to memory.

He’s smiling, and not a teasing little grin he’s been giving her, he’s really smiling. Out of bliss.

She smiles back at him.

“It was me, right?” He mumbles. “That you were talking about?”

Crinkles form at the corners of her eyes as she lets out a short giggle.

He’s the cutest.

“Of course,”

He had been fairly certain she was talking about him, but he still feels a little relieved hearing her confirm it.

“There’s no one else for me,” She adds, reaching a hand up to his jaw, laying her palm there softly. The pad of her thumb sweetly brushed over his skin. “Besides, I’ve never had a guy have a wet dream about me before, so I figured I’d give ‘ya a chance, right?”

Megumi’s sweet expression soured in an instant, his brows furrowing and his lips pulling into a deep frown. (y/n’s) laughing like it’s oh so funny, and he’s contemplating dropping her and walking away.

(He’d have to be pretty stupid to do such a thing, but the thought does cross his mind)

“I fucking knew he told you” He grumbled bitterly.

(y/n) shrugs, her free hand reaching up so that her fingers could gently rub the knot away from his brows.

“He meant well,” She hums. “Don’t be too upset”

Megumi rolls his eyes. Says the one who isn’t humiliated.

“Would it help if I told you about the dreams I’ve had?” She asks, making his eyes dart back to hers, wide and curious.

He thinks she’s joking at first, but her expression is genuine. His mouth moves to tell her yes I would very much like to hear about the dreams you’ve had about me, but his mind is too busy trying to imagine the dirty images that’s played behind her eyelids at night, so no words come out.

(y/n) giggles, and pushes off of his shoulders so that he would let her go. She’s shorter than him again as she lands on her feet, but she quickly reaches on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“If you wanna come with me to my room I’ll tell you all about ‘em” She says with a grin.

Megumi blinks, his lips parted as he stares down at her. (y/n) loves her newfound power of stunning him to silence.

She shrugs casually, and turns around, about to head out of the library without another word. But just as she’s about to take a step, two arms wrap around her middle, and she’s lifted off the ground, with her back pressed to his chest. A yelp escapes her before a string of delighted giggles.

“Well let’s go there, then!” Megumi cheers, racing towards the library’s doors.

(y/n) pretends to fight him to let her free, but her hands remain gripped to his forearms, not a single part of her wanting him to let go. ___

bonus:

“So…” Megumi drawls, a bit out of breath as he lays on his back, the comforter on (y/n’s) bed tangled around his legs. “What exactly did Yuuji tell you?”

(y/n) laughs at the memory that feels like it was forever ago but it had only happened that morning.

He lifts his head to see her from where her head was at the end of the bed. She’s too exhausted to crane her neck to look back at him.

“He was just excited to tell us that he had some juicy gossip, and then said it wasn’t his place to actually tell us” She recalled for him.

Megumi’s ears focus on only one word, his eyes widening as his heart plummets to his stomach in embarrassment.

(y/n) musters up what little energy she could to prop herself on her elbows so she could amuse herself with the pale expression on his face.

“Need some water?” She teases, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “You drank all of mine on break three, so you’ll have to go get more”

That brings some color back to his cheeks.

“So… everyone’s gonna know?” He mutters to himself.

If Nobara knew, everyone knew.

“Oh, they already do,” (y/n) confirms his newfound fear casually, as if she was telling him the weather. “Who do you think told me to come seduce you?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him playfully, while Megumi groans and falls back onto her pillows, covering his hot face with his hands.

He wasn’t going to hear the end of this. ___

no original thoughts mind on megumi xoxo ~ jordie

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi imagine #fushiguro megumi reader insert #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #fushiguro megumi smut #megumi smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #fushiguro megumi fanfiction

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banjjakz · 6 months

Text

convection currents ; yuuta x GN!reader

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?” God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. “Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

word count: 7.6k

warnings: horizontal hanky panky, obsession, possessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, codependency, semi graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

‪♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes + reblogs appreciated!

Yuuta wants to like you.

And he does – like you, that is. He really, really does.

But there have been some moments that give him pause.

Don’t get him wrong! You’re sweet, kind, doting, attentive, and very clearly an anxious bundle of painful self-awareness. He finds comfort in the kindred connection between your loner spirits. Training is made infinitely easier when he steals a glance at the gentle flash of your sweet smile, the soft flutter of your hair in the breeze, the twinkle of your laugh, floating through the air as a windchime’s ephemeral melody serenades the breeze. Everything about you seems to be perfectly enveloped and embedded within his daily reality at Tokyo Tech; natural, easy, right. That is what it feels like, to be at your side.

The budding affection between the two of you kicks his foolish, stuttering heart into overdrive. How long has it been, since the blood pumping through his veins was motivated by a sensation other than mortal terror?

You make him want to envision a reality wherein he’s embedded into the fabric of the living, breathing world, rather than continue to occupy his perch as a pariah, perennially scapegoated to the periphery.

Each sidelong glance thrown your way is accompanied by the erratic twitch of his clammy hands, as he tries and fails to pay attention during one of Gojo’s rambling, nonsensical lectures. The light in his eyes revives when you call his name. Innards undulating in and out of place, he tracks your body’s every movement, your muscles contorting fast as quicksilver during scrimmages, lethal and alluring all at once.

These are some of the objectively positive aspects of his attraction to you; the things that pull him from his bed in the morning, calling to him like the abyss compels a creature of the night to rise from its coffin.

And then, there are the more…er, complex moments.

“Did you just come back from a mission, Okkotsu-san?”

Like today, for example. Yuuta had just arrived back on campus after a fun afternoon spent with Toge traversing around Tokyo, patronizing various cafes and konbinis. You were lingering at the entrance of the dormitory, back to the front door, effectively coming between him and his bed.

“Ah, no. I was with Inumaki. We were hanging out for a bit.”

“Where?”

“Just in the city…”

“What did you do?”

He stills, uncertain. “Um…that’s…”

“I’m sorry.” Your head ducks in shame, hiding your face from his quizzical glance. “It’s been hard adjusting to student life as a mid-year transfer. I keep up well enough in classes, and on missions, but I don’t think any of the other students like me all that much. Forgive me, Okkotsu-san. To be honest, I’m jealous of how easily you get along with Inumaki-san and Maki-san.”

Of course. How could he assume anything different?

As a non-lineage sorcerer, you were haphazardly discovered by one of the senior sorcerers on a mission gone south and roped into the jujutsu world without prior knowledge of its existence. From a firsthand perspective, he of all people should be able to understand how isolating that must be.

Kicking himself for his judgemental first reaction, Yuuta forces his skeleton to release the tension it harbors. “No, don’t worry. Have you been sleeping well? Did you eat dinner?”

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

This is how he finds himself alone, with you, in a secluded alcove on the outskirts of campus. The afternoon has matured into a thick, syrupy evening, the sky bruised with a smattering of warm hues. You sit on the grassy bank as a pair, shoulder-to-shoulder, your union celebrated by the rhythmic thrum of the cicadas’ song.

“Here, take it.” He offers you the last flavored onigiri leftover from his spoils of konbini adventures.

You protest, waving your hands in front of you. “No, no, no. I’m fine with just a plain one. Please. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Plain is my favorite,” he lies. “I don’t even like yaki.”

“...Then why did you have one in your bag?”

“Haha! That’s a great question! I don’t know!” Beet red, Yuuta scratches the back of his head.

Out of mercy, and perhaps pity, you graciously accept the yaki onigiri. Munching in companionable quietude ensues for several minutes, as you both watch the sun impale itself on the dark horizon, bleeding out across the sky in dark, inky tones.

Without sitting face-to-face, it’s easier to speak to you, somehow. The insistent pressure on his chest lifts long enough for some words of actual substance to slip forth. “It’s hard, the first year.”

You remain silent.

“My first year was hell, too. Although that’s probably because I was being haunted.”

“By who?”

He blinks, your question knocking him off balance. Not by “what,” but by “who” had he been haunted? You’ve always been observant. This is why you’ve survived for so long.

“Um, it’s a long story… I’ll tell you in full one day. For now, I’ll just say that there was someone very special to me when I was a child… and it was hard for her to let go of me, when push came to shove.”

“Ah. I see.”

Although August has yet to conclude, the air around him is significantly chillier than what is characteristic of Tokyo’s late-summer hazy heat. Yuuta shivers, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Yeah. But, um, anyways. If you need someone to talk to…to be by your side… I would like to be that person for you.” He utters your name like a prayer, too concentrated on not stuttering to be embarrassed at the earnest tremble in his voice. “I wish I had a confidante when I first got here. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“A confidante? But didn’t you have your friend?”

Your reply jolts him into looking at you. The expression on your face tells him that you truly mean it as a genuine inquiry.

“Well, um. I was being haunted…and Rika – er, she didn’t really listen to me. She actually got a little overprotective, I think.”

“Do you think she was evil?”

“No!” The denial explodes from his mouth before Yuuta can even fully process the nuance of the question posed. “No,” he repeats, at an appropriate volume, this time. “She was clingy, and protective, and possessive, and honestly violent, but she wasn’t evil. I loved her. I think a part of me always will.”

Love? What is he doing talking to you, alone, at night, about love? How embarrassing. He hadn’t meant to say all that!

Quickly, he stuffs his mouth with the remainder of his onigiri. No more talking. Just chewing.

If you are perturbed by his sentimental ramblings, you show no sign of it. If anything, your face remains impassive, serene, undisturbed like the surface of a tranquil pond.

“You loved her for that, then. Was she haunting you if you were in love?”

After he finishes choking down the final, sticky remnants of his dinner, Yuuta frowns, mulling over your words which are heavy by the virtue of their implication, yet hang and sway in the air as an empty noose dangles from the gallows.

“...I don’t know.” Yuuta says, at length. “That’s what I was diagnosed with when I came here. And it was hard for me to function, back when Rika was still here. I didn’t have any friends. And people close to me got hurt a lot.”

“It sounds like she was always trying to protect you… even when you were apart. I only wish one day, I find someone who would have the capacity to care for me like that…”

“You want that?”

“I do.” Not an ounce of hesitation in your firm, forthcoming reply. “I’ve spent my whole life as something worth less than notice or acknowledgement. Always feeling invisible, never having anyone – not even one person – who cared about me. Up until this point, I’ve lived life wanting to die every day.”

For lack of a better reply, Yuuta simply asks: “What changed?”

“...I met you, Okkotsu-san.”

Oh, wow.

It’s kind of funny – where other people describe feeling hot, Yuuta has always been chronically, terminally cold. Your words induce a rapidly onsetting deep-freeze which permeates every layer of his skin, every molecule of his bones, every wretched atom of marrow lying dormant inside of him, all of it, every fiber of being rooted to the spot in an indescribable emotion.

“I–I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

That’s wrong. “No, you didn’t! You didn’t, I swear. Just… um, I’m also a person who is lonely, like you described. So I’m not used to, err, being, ah, important. To people? I guess?”

“Oh… I see.”

Clearly, the higher function of critical thought has abandoned him; this is the only explanation for how he reaches to grab your hands, sending the half-eaten yaki onigiri tumbling down to the dark earth beneath your anxiously shifting feet. He squeezes you, tightly, and is delighted in a morose sort of way to find your digits even colder than his.

“Let’s teach each other. How to be important to someone else.”

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?”

God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you.

“Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

;

Field missions have been a part of his daily life as a sorcerer since the day he arrived at Tokyo Tech. Battle has always been challenging for all the obvious reasons, but never before has Yuuta had to deal with the added hardship of fighting alongside you.

This, of course, is not meant to imply that you aren’t able to hold your own; on the contrary, your physical and cursed prowess has granted you the rank of semi-special grade despite this being your first year enrolled in any kind of formal jujutsu schooling. Your cursed technique is innate to your personality and sensibilities, which helps. But even if that weren’t the case, you would still be one of Tokyo’s top-performing students.

Missions are difficult because, despite all of this being true, Yuuta is powerless to curb the instinct to protect you during fights.

It manifests in small ways, at first: insisting to be paired up with you for assignments, always volunteering to partner up when splitting from the larger group during an investigation– things like this.

His behavior starts to stray into problematic territory the longer he is allowed to get away with it, unchecked.

“After Ijichi casts the veil, we’ll sweep the building. Inumaki and Yuuta, you two take the upper levels. We’ll do the bottom half,” orders Maki, gesturing between you and herself.

Immediately, Yuuta objects. “No. I’ll do the bottom half. You and Inumaki should go up together.”

“What?”

“I have a phobia of heights,” lies Yuuta, shamelessly. “It will impact my performance.”

“I have literally never heard you talk about being afraid of heights before.”

“Shake sushi,” agrees Inumaki.

You remain silent, pupils trembling, bottom lip severed between your teeth in a display of bashfulness reserved only for Yuuta’s blatant favoritism, which he wields frequently, in hopes to catch a even a single glimpse of you just as you appear now.

“I’m self-conscious about it,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you both for understanding.”

“Wait! Okkotsu, we didn’t–”

And with that, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you away with him, sprinting into the abandoned love hotel before Maki or Inumaki can prevent you from absconding.

The two of you are laughing, tickled as usual at the effects of pissing Maki the hell off. Consequences will rain down in due time, no doubt, but for now, it feels best to bask in each other’s presence.

Once through the front door, Yuuta halts to an easy jog, guiding you past the cobweb-covered front desk, around the decrepit scraps of the once-ostentatiously decorated lobby, all the way to the far back corner, where a solid, heavy metal door obfuscates the emergency stairway.

“Oh, it looks jammed… Should we–”

Your stumped musing is cut off by the ricocheting cacophony of Yuuta’s boot violating the door. The metal itself bends and warps, caving in on itself in a hurry to make way for the unstoppable force of the sorcerer’s impassioned blow. He didn’t have to activate any cursed energy.

“Let’s go!” Chirps Yuuta, cheerfully.

In another context, maybe, it would be appropriate for his pulse to spike, for his hands to clam, for his breath to quicken, at the prospect of being alone with you. However, the reality of the current situation is that Yuuta is dragging you down into some dark, unknown depth, where neither of you will be disturbed. As you descend the concrete flights, visibility is increasingly hard to come by, and this, too, excites Yuuta. He is now forced to rely more heavily upon his other senses, which naturally prioritizes the scent of your sweat; the sound of your rabbit-paced heartbeat; the feeling of the paper-thin skin of your inner wrist; the taste of his own desire.

The cursed spirit they’re looking for has been wreaking havoc on the surrounding commercial strip, to the point where several businesses have had to draw their shutters in the wake of the love hotel’s primary foreclosure. Evidently, recurring, unresolved muder-suicides did not bode well for business.

“Um…if we’re supposed to be searching for the curse behind all of the couples’ deaths, shouldn’t we be looking in the bedrooms?”

Your voice echoes, tinny, in the thick, humid air of the emergency stairwell. They haven’t hit the bottom yet.

“Eh, maybe. This doesn’t feel like that kind of case, though.”

“Huh? How do you figure?”

Although moving swiftly, at the speed of light, your footfalls make barely a whisper against the aged concrete steps. Still, it’s enough for Yuuta’s hypersensitive ears to pick up on. Deprived of the sight of you, he drinks in the intimation of your existence, greedily.

“Heat rises,” he says, slowing pace as they approach what can only be the door to the boiler room, which has been left ominously ajar. “Cold sinks.”

“...Um, I’m not sure I follow.”

Stealthily, he slithers inside the slender crack between frame and the door itself. The angle of its opening doesn’t even waver. He pulls you along with him, replying as he moves, “Crimes of passion carry a kind of hot, frenetic energy. Panic, impulse, instinct – all of those things have lots of, hmm, friction? Like an explosion. Really hot at first, dangerously hot, and then it fizzles out into nothing.”

Unfamiliar pieces of enormous machinery tower in the dark. As much as you are able to while crouching so low to the floor, you take care not to trip over any errant pipes.

“So this isn’t a hot curse?”

“No,” Yuuta confirms. “The curse–” murder-suicides in a love hotel, how on-the-nose could it be? “–is premeditated by nature. Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice.”

He stops short. You would’ve crashed straight into his shoulder blades if he weren’t painfully cognizant of your whereabouts at all times. He preemptively steadies you on your feet before you can even begin to stumble.

“At some point in this building, someone,” says Yuuta, quietly, as he cautiously eyes the opaque blackness before them, “spent a lot of time thinking about their beloved.”

“How can you tell?”

“Cold sinks,” Yuuta repeats.

Violence explodes, seemingly, out of nowhere. The curse attacks all at once, aiming perfectly towards you as though it had been lying in wait, stalking your every move. Yuuta always takes point whenever you pair up together, because he always insists on taking the first hit. It is this presupposition that leaves you wide open, vulnerable for attack from behind.

“Yuuta!!” You shriek, desperately dodging the grotesque appendages reaching out to you. Your body hits the floor just seconds shy of what would have been a gory fatality.

When you lift your head to identify the exact form of the curse, you still in uncomprehending terror.

“...Yuuta?”

How can this be?

Not even seconds prior, Yuuta had been a whole, living, breathing, intact person, guiding you as solidly as your own personal anchor. Why, then, does he appear to you now as a corpse, brain matter spilling down his temples, bloated limbs belying days of decay, flesh pale and tender and loose around the bone.

No, no, no. Had you been too late? Had the curse gotten to him first? Are you next?

Despair fills you, overflowing your sensibilities with the intrusive desire to rid the world of your miserable existence. How could you have let him slip through your fingers? How could you be expected to return to any semblance of a life, with Yuuta gone? You don’t deserve a future without Yuuta – you don’t even want to imagine one.

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

Cursed energy welling within you, threatening to tear you apart at the very seams, you are about to implode with all the conviction of an abandoned lover– but a familiar, desperate cry of your name halts your ministrations.

That was Yuuta’s voice calling out to you.

But there he is, lying before you as nothing more than a desecrated body.

Unless…?

Yuuta calls your name again, sharply, this time in a tone adjacent to something scolding. The fear of disappointing Yuuta outweighs all else. It’s enough to snap you back to reality, to clear your clouded faculties and reveal to you the real Yuuta, who stands on guard just a few paces away, living, breathing, sweating, crouching, preparing for action.

“The curse,” he calls, eyes never leaving the thing in front of you. “It’s the curse. Don’t worry, it’s not real. You’re alive.”

“I’m alive?” You parrot incredulously. “That’s your corpse over there!”

“...Huh? My corpse? But I see yours–” He cuts himself off, face going eerily blank. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Close your eyes. Don’t flinch.”

In your defense, you try your best.

Remaining sightless and motionless is difficult as the rest of your senses are inundated with the disgustingly explicit soundtrack of slaughter. The sound of flesh forcibly sliding apart on the edge of Yuuta’s cursed katana is familiar, at this point, but no less gut-wrenching to bear witness to. When he deals the final blow, the evidence sprays all over the front of you, drenching you from head to toe in what should be the curse’s blood.

And yet, the liquid is frigid. Like you’ve been assaulted by the waves of the cruel, immortal sea.

“You can look now.”

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open. You’re met with the sight of Yuuta, also covered head to toe in the viscous liquid produced by the corpse’s demise. Now that the exorcism has been completed, the preternatural heaviness is lifted from the building. But still, you struggle to breathe.

“Why didn’t you let me fight?” Something horrible announces itself, crowing from an ugly, dark corner of your mind best kept away from public view. “Was I going to slow you down?”

He sheathes in katana without sparing the gory weapon another glance. The space between your bodies is quickly extinguished, as Yuuta crosses the space in a matter of heartbeats. Blood roars in your ears, drowning out all which does not consist of Yuuta’s fixed gaze, Yuuta’s shaky breath, Yuuta’s pallid, sweaty skin, Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta.

“No.”

A large, wet palm meets your cheek. The soft squelch should be repulsive. Your stomach flips for entirely unrelated reasons.

“Why do you think all those murder-suicides happened?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer, nonetheless. “The curse.”

“What do you think the curse made people see, for them to do something like that?”

You want to ask what the hell this line of questioning has to do with anything, with the mounting intensity in his stare, with the firm hand on your face, calloused thumb rubbing miniscule half-crescents into the crux of your jaw where the bone and flesh is pliant and breakable, could crack open like the shell of a creature already cooked alive, prepared to be split open for gluttonous consumption–

And then, rudely, the memory of mere moments prior hits you:

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

“Oh,” you whimper, pathetically. “They see– the curse makes them see, um, someone special to them.”

“Not just ‘special,’” Yuuta corrects. From this close you can see the faint trail of blue-green veins spiderwebbing their way from his eyebags, metastasizing every which-way, just underneath his skin. “What is a curse?”

“The coalescence of negative energy secreted by human non-sorcerers.” You rattle off the elementary answer without second thought.

“What kind of curse was this?”

The moisture evaporates from your mouth. “A cold one.”

“Why?”

“‘Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice,’” you mimic back.

Although, your tone doesn’t quite replicate the self-assured way by which Yuuta had originally imparted the information. No, your voice shakes apart, just as disjointed as the rest of your body feels at this moment.

“What did you see when you looked at the curse?”

He already knows. He wants you to say it. You want to plead for mercy, if only to savor the eroticism of begging for something you know will not be spared for you.

“I saw you, Yuuta.”

The curse’s blood is bitter and cold, like soured juice, when it is thrust upon your tongue. Yuuta is uncaring of the gore coating the both of you, the time-sensitive nature of this mission assignment, the way your knees sway and buckle as the adrenaline begins to leak from your body, replaced by a new, even more exhilarating sensation.

Opaque darkness still shrouds the boiler room; and yet, it isn’t enough to prevent your souls from recognizing one another. Hands wrestle with buttons, fingers grapple with zippers, teeth gnash into flesh, and the two of you take each other apart not with the reckless abandon of lovers under the duress of a transient liaison; no, you are methodological, thorough, all-consumed by the well-marinated desire that has been fertilizing from the moment you first came into contact with one another.

Yuuta throws you down to the floor and moves his body at a preternatural speed so that he beats you there, his hand cradling the back of your skull before it can strike the concrete.

“I saw you too,” he huffs into your mouth.

“You were d-dead…” The way you struggle to say the word is cute. You’re so fucking cute. God, he’s no better than a fucking curse.

It’s impossible to curb the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck, eagerly feeding off of the intoxicating effects of your pained, thrilled squeal. “You weren’t,” he murmurs into the abused flesh, pressing a kiss where he’d just gnawed. “You looked close, but you weren’t dead.”

“...Huh…?”

Can you even think right now? Do you understand what he’s saying to you? How could you possibly grasp the implications of what is transpiring, right now, when you’re laid out on the floor, snow-angeling in the blood and guts and gore of a murdered curse, delirious off of a heady combination of lust and adrenaline and fear?

“You were just barely alive. On the edge.” He moans, rocking the hard line of his body into your own. “Do you know what you said to me?”

“Tell me.”

“You asked me to finish the job.”

Back arching off of the grimy, gritty ground, every fiber of your being reaches out for the fingers that tear at the cloth of your uniform as though it is nothing more than some cheap costuming. “You know what? I knew it wasn’t the real you, when it said that. ‘S not like you.”

He’s monologuing to himself, it seems. You are far beyond the hope of verbally communicating in anything other than your strained, hoarse whines.

“You’d never ask me to do that. You’d stay with me until the very end, wouldn’t you?”

Desperately, hopelessly, you nod, your fingernails carving your intentions into the meat of his shoulders. When had his shirt come off? Did you do that?

Are you the one tearing away the last bits of offending clothing, or is that him? Do you growl in stoked desire as he breaches your entrance, or does that inhuman noise come from the both of you?

When Yuuta is buried inside of you, he feels like he’s finally been laid to rest. There is the warm, comforting embrace often described as death – but instead of an eternal bliss found at the conclusion of his life, Yuuta is able to access this euphoria by burying himself inside of you. You are his headstone, his tomb, his coffin: all of you exists to house the death of all of him, and without him inside of you, you would live on in aimless unfulfillment, anxiously awaiting the day a beautiful boy will come to die under your care and linger with you in eternity.

You are–warm, hot, burning up, self-immolating beneath his fingers. Every thrust forward threatens to scald his hips on your molten flesh.

“Fu-fu-fu-fu-fu–” you stutter, body shuddering to life, rising from the ground, seizing and contorting in strange shapes as you struggle and fail to cope with the insurgence of pleasure coursing through you. “Yuu–ta–”

“Promise me.”

“Wha–”

“Promise me,” he hisses, hands coming to your throat. “Promise you’ll stay. You’re too important to me, I c-can’t lose you too, hnnnnn–”

Promise you, I’ll never leave you, is what you are able to only mouth, breath and voice held captive in his unrelenting grasp. Because you cannot voice it entirely, you pour all the contents of your heart and soul into the sentiment. Fingers rising weakly to clasp onto his, you tighten his grip on your windpipe and take comfort in the drowsy haziness that cradles your consciousness.

When he comes, he holds you to him like he’s afraid you’re going to crawl off and die somewhere else if he doesn’t keep you right where you are, crushed against, his shivering frame, so tightly bound to him that he can hear your diaphragm contract and expand, over and over and over again, each breath cut short by a wheeze or a sob.

Through it all, he cradles you. Naked, bruised, and forever scarred from the sight of not-Yuuta’s rotting corpse, you cling to him and release your sorrows into the dark, empty abyss of the boiler room.

Back and forth, he rocks your body, soothing your nervous system into an illusion of safety. There is no such thing as “safety,” not for jujutsu sorcerers – but together, with limbs intertwined as one, this is the closest you can come to fooling yourselves into hoping, one day, for a safe place. A safe person, even.

“Shhh,” he simpers, thumb swiping your cheek, which is damp from an unholy mixture of cursed blood, sweat, spit, and tears. “We’re together. It’s all okay.”

“T-together…”

“Yeah. Just you and me.”

;

“You don’t think that’s an issue?”

“I’m not saying there isn’t an issue. But we should tread lightly, here. We don’t know what could happen if we interfere.”

“If we don’t interfere, the newbie might die.”

“It won’t get to that point. I won’t let it happen. Oi, don’t blow smoke in my face. That’s unladylike.”

“Don’t lecture me on what’s ‘ladylike,’ cocksucker.”

“Wow! That burns!”

“Come here, I’ll show you what else burns.”

Lingering outside the door to the infirmary, you shift your weight from foot to foot, unsure of the appropriate course of action to take. Clearly, Gojo and Ieiri are in the middle of a conversation that is not meant to be heard by prying ears – not that you can make heads or tails of what they’re talking about, anyways.

All you wanted to do was come see Ieri for your weekly check-up, as was customary following the love hotel mission. The adrenaline must have numbed your pain receptors in the moment, because as soon as you’d arrived back on campus, your entire body felt like you’d been through a grinder.

You were kinda confused, at first, because you didn’t even engage the curse in combat. In due time, of course, you remembered what–or who–had actually bruised your ribs, broken your skin, sprained your joints, left you carrying the contours of his wanting.

Why were they talking about you dying, anyways? Yuuta saved your life. Nothing was going to happen to you as long as he was by your side.

“Hey.”

Jumping out of your skin has started to feel good, kind of. You look forward to Yuuta’s unceremonious greetings as he creeps up on you in silence, futilely waiting for you to detect his concealed presence.

“H-hi,” you demure. Why are you shy? He’s been so far inside of you he practically fused into your skeleton. Blushing because he caught you unawares is ridiculous.

“Aren’t you going to go in?”

Wondering how he knows what you’re here for is pointless. Equally as useless is trying to deduce how he was able to figure out your recurring appointment time. He’s Yuuta – it’s natural for him to acquire knowledge about you, as easily as one picks low-hanging fruit from a tree.

“Umm, I think they’re talking about something.”

He frowns. “About what?”

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you heard? “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Are you sure?”

You remain silent, unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wants to bare your innards at all times, whenever Yuuta is around. It feels natural, like a rabbit’s cowering. On the other hand…

Somehow, the thought of telling Yuuta the truth–yeah, Gojo-sensei and Ieiri-sensei think there’s a chance I might die soon–would not end well for anyone involved. If there was something you truly needed to know, you’re sure your senseis would tell you.

Right?

“Please trust me,” you whisper, only feeling a little guilty. You’re doing it to protect him. If something dangerous is going to happen to you, Yuuta shouldn’t be involved at all. He must live. You must make sure of it.

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, although he insists on accompanying you to your check-up that week. Strangely, neither Gojo nor Ieiri seem surprised that he is here with you, and make no effort to question why. Yuuta is allowed to linger at your sides as Ieiri takes your vitals, reviews the status of your various injuries, and even holds your hand when she scans your cursed energy levels. Thankfully, you are on track to make a perfect recovery.

In fact, not only are you replenishing the strength and ability that had been impaired during the love hotel mission–you are regenerating cursed energy at rates which exceed your natural capacities.

When Ieiri relays this to you, Gojo, who has been lingering in the infirmary for some unknown reason (you suspect it’s simply to annoy Ieiri with his very presence) speaks up: “Do you know what that means, kid?”

“Um…” You start, nervous. Everyone’s eyes are on you. It feels like you’re under a microscope. “I’m moving up a rank?”

Gojo bursts into a fit of giggles, doubling over at the waist. “Wow, what an opportunist! Haha, maybe in the future, if your cursed energy continues to compound exponentially. I’m asking you about the cause. Any idea why you’re suddenly overflowing with power?”

“No.” Your answer is as truthful as it is anxious.

“Typically, a dramatic increase in output like this only occurs after a Binding Vow. Make any life-or-death promises, recently?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, the way Gojo says it. You can tell because his crow’s feet dip down just far enough away from underneath his blindfold that you can tell whenever he smiles with his eyes. And he is smiling, after he cracks the joke. You’re also able to intuit when he stops smiling, as the depressions on his face smooth out into a careful blankness. You are thirty seconds too late to the punchline. Instead of laughing along, you remain damningly silent, and Yuuta shifts uncomfortably at your side.

“Okay,” says Gojo, clapping his hands. “Alright.”

Although you’re fully clothed in your school uniform, it makes you feel chillingly exposed when what feels like all Six of his Eyes bore into the collection of dark marks ringing your neck in a brutal, makeshift collar. Those were not, in fact, the work of a curse.

Yuuta fidgets with the flimsy paper lining the examination bed. You kick your feet like a child in time out.

“You owe me seven thousand yen,” Shoko deadpans.

“Hey! Didn’t we say forty-five?”

“Don’t kid around.”

Am I in trouble? The terrified plea swells to the front of your mouth, begging to escape. You force the words to sit, stay, and curdle on your tongue.

“Can we go now?” Asks Yuuta, uncharacteristically direct.

Given the odd gravity in the room, you don’t expect Gojo’s easy wave of his hand, dismissing the two of you with a flippant hum. Not having to be told twice, you hightail it out of the infirmary, grateful to be released from the constant invasion of privacy and security that is a prolonged existence within the reach of Gojo’s Six Eyes.

Finally alone once more, the training grounds are a welcome reprieve for you and Yuuta, who crash into the grass clearing hand-in-hand, heartbeats synced.

“Did we make a Binding Vow? When we…you know…”

Yuuta’s voice trails off, lamely.

“What if we did? Would you regret it?”

“Huh? No, of course not! It’s just…well–”

“Well, what?”

“That’s kind of permanent,” Yuuta whispers, dark pools of obsidian sorrow holding your gaze in its cruel, captivating clutches. “And we don’t know what will happen if it breaks.”

For one second, the rawness of it hits you. Fear washes down your back, prickling your flesh, raising goosebumps, locking your spine rigidly into place. The two of you had certainly made a life-or-death promise, infused with cursed energy and blood and…other…bodily fluids. To inadvertently perform a Binding Vow meant that the sheer intensity behind both of your wills was purely, wholly devoted to the promise.

Which is why you take a step closer to him, voice steady. “I didn’t make that promise with the intention to break it. Ever.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t…you can’t be sure of that.”

“I am.”

“You won’t be able to guarantee it.”

“I will.”

Familiarly calloused hands grab your shoulders, jostling you with charged intention. “You don’t get it! My favorite person in the whole world already left me once. If that happens again, I can’t… I don’t know…”

“Yuuta.” You don’t have to lay a finger on him for his entire body to stand at attention, drawing tall and taught, when you call his name. “I will never leave you, even if I die.”

The ensuing kiss tastes like metal.

Despite the passionate fervor with which he devours you, his mouth his cold, and his digits even more so as they dig into your cheeks, your throat, your waist, your chest, groping and pulling and kneading your flesh to loosen the rigor mortis that has arrested your willingness.

“D-don’t, ah, make any m-more marks…”

Your protest is, at best, unconvincing, the person least of all convinced being yourself, as Yuuta’s teeth and tongue on the tender flesh of your neck make you feel like you’re about to leave your body. “Hnng–Gojos-sensei already knows, I think.”

“Good.” He’s crazed, nipping and slurping at your sensitive soft bits like a man starved. “Let him know. Everyone should know. I shouldn’t even–” he kisses “–have–” he bites “–to say it–” he licks you in between speaking, as though it goes against the grain of his being to part ways with you for more than just a few jagged inhalations.

The ground hits you hard, reprimanding you for your clumsiness with a firm impact on your backside. Yuuta pursues with haste, hands slamming down on either side of your head, ripping the grass in retribution.

“Yuuta,” you hiss, hands flying to his dark mop of hair, trying to reel him back – in vain, of course. “We are outside. In the middle of the day. Anyone could walk by!”

“Don’t care.”

His eyes are glazed, half-lidded, pupils blown wide and deeply dark as a gunshot wound, uncaring of your anxiety as he attempts to dive back into you.

“Wait! What if someone sees me?” Now, he rears back. “I don’t want anyone else to see, Yuuta… only you get to see me like this.”

Even the ants traipsing across the clearing stop dead in their tracks, rendered motionless, silent, at the abrupt onslaught of highly charged cursed energy that washes through every living and non-living thing within a five-mile radius.

“Okay.”

Wordlessly, your world upends as you are thrown over a wide shoulder clad in spotless, wrinkled white. You’ve always thought it was funny – how Yuuta’s uniform never managed to permanently stain itself with any of the gore he frequently encountered, and yet, there was always a noticeable depression in the seams, ever-lurking, complicating the otherwise flawless expanse, evoking a sense of pity.

Even when the shirt flies off, abandoned to crumple sadly in the corner of his bedroom, you can’t get its image out of your head. That spotless white. Those gleaming gold buttons dripping in iridescent rivulets down the front of the garment. Only within the intricate designs etched into their surface is one able to glean the barest hint of blood, staining the metal a pale crimson. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice it.

But you have always sought out his ugly, twisted parts. Even when he tries to hide. Even when he might duck from them himself.

That’s okay.

That’s why he has you.

When he bites you so hard that the wound draws blood; when his palms squeeze around your windpipe so deftly that you lose vision; when pins down your bruised hips, ignoring their wriggling avoidance; when his unquiet nature makes itself known, eclipsing the carefully bashful performance he puts on for his peers so that he might be liked, or loved, even–that is when you feel most connected to him. That is when your affections burn brightest.

And during the comedown, as he holds you close and rocks your brutalized body back and forth and back again, you are well aware that it is he himself who he seeks to soothe.

He doesn’t know, you realize, broken out of your post-coital mental haze with a pointed moment of clarity.

Yuuta has no clue what lurks inside the haunted catacombs of his soul.

What does it say about you, then, that his naivete only serves to further incense your want, smoldering like an inferno brewing at the base of a pyre, threatening to engulf your sorry corpse in entirety?

;

As third year trudges on, instruction takes less time in the classroom, or on campus. More frequently, you find yourself out on missions from sun-up to sundown, running around Tokyo-to and even surrounding prefectures. The grades of the curses you go up against only increase with time, and so, to, does your proximity to mortal danger.

Through it all, Yuuta is present. Indignantly so. Despite your rank as a semi-special grade sorcerer, you have yet to embark solo on an assignment. The pair of you are one combative unit, at this point so intertwined in sentiment and instinct that rarely is it necessary to reach for verbal exchange while engaged in battle. It is as though the reserve of cursed energy you draw from is a pool shared between you, a combination of your innate abilities plus an additional overflow, supplied by the Binding Vow you had consummated all those months ago.

So close are you, now, that Yuuta grows comfortable – confident, even – with your hold on his proverbial leash. These days, he is less neurotic when you inquire as to his whereabouts. Your prying questions provoke within him nothing other than a deep-seated sense of reassurance. He no longer doubts where he stands with you, as he once did when you were still a fresh-faced, mid-year transfer adjusting to life at Tokyo Tech.

In retrospect, he recognizes that he should never have let his guard down.

It’s his fault, really. Entirely his fault. The extra strength provided by the powerful effects of the Binding Vow deluded him into a false sense of security.

He shouldn’t have been so careless with your life. He shouldn’t have strayed so far from your side. He shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left you alone, even if it was only for a split second–not even.

Once again, he has failed to save the most important person in his life. Somehow, losing you is worse than losing Rika. He is no longer a child. He possessed both the skill and ability to save you.

And yet, he had been absent in your time of need.

The one time you’d been off on a mission without him. The one and only time. Principle Yaga’s sorry excuse was that the higher-ups found it strange that you, as a semi-special grade, had never completed a solo assignment. Apparently, your rank was being threatened if you refused any longer to display independent capability.

Well. Now there’s no rank for you to claim, anymore.

After news of your death reaches him, he roams campus like an aimless specter, as though he is the one who has been robbed of life.

In a way, he has. Half of his being has perished. He limps, lopsided, dragging the phantom weight of your body with him wherever he goes.

It takes a while to get used to the absence of your physical, living, breathing manifestation. As a fellow sorcerer, you have been wholly eradicated from the fabric of his reality.

But as a spirit…?

Death is not enough to break a Binding Vow – this, Yuuta knows better than anyone. He retains his augmented cursed abilities, along with your presence. The two of you join once more in battle, as he summons you to protect and guard him in life as he failed to do for you. Your selfless nature has never been more clearly evident. Not a single call goes unanswered, not a single need of his unmet.

Is this a haunting?

No, he doesn’t think so.

When the two of you had still been skittish and shy around one another, nothing more than a pair of innocently covetous children, you’d dared him to reflect on his relationship with Rika. What had been translated to him as a haunting, you reimagined as something more corporeal, something genuine, something worthy of gratitude, and love.

This is how he chooses to think of you – the both of you, together, still joined in perfect union. No matter the fact that you will watch him age, change, develop, and eventually die, one day, should he be so lucky. You do not haunt his waking hours. You do not terrorize his dreams.

You love him in a way that transcends the bounds of space and time.

He has not been cursed. Rather, he has been blessed with your unconditional love.

To earn true forgiveness, he must show you his, as well. You must occupy his every waking thought. You will invade his every intention. You are at the forefront of his mind when he rises with the dawn, and the memory of your breath against the shell of his ear whispers to him good night. You dress him. You urge him to sustenance. You machinate his combat. You heal his wounds. You wipe his tears when he sobs, alone, terribly alone, sobbing into his knees after each time the life of a friend meets a senseless, violent conclusion.

You are still there when he wraps a rough, harried palm around his throbbing arousal, thrusting up into an elusive, now long-gone pleasure. You guide his hands’ journey across the hazardous dips and valleys of his rib cage, the grotesque concave of his stomach, the sharp blades of his hip bones. His skeleton threatens to crawl outside of his flesh. It yearns for something beyond this senseless cycle of bloodshed, grief, and rage.

Never does he feel closer to salvation than when he is on the precipice of ecstasy, dehydrated, underfed, delirious, heart beating so fast that it limits his vision, his lung capacity. When he occupies this liminal space, it is not the brink of orgasm which he straddles. As he approaches climax, he yearns not for an explosion of wet heat, but for the euphoric embrace of a final ending: your arms around him once more, real, tangible, warm.

Until then, he will trudge onwards. Miserably alive. Cold inside and out. Numb to physical pain, constantly inundated with the wounds inflicted on his spirit, his sentiments, his soul.

Solace finds him in the fact that you committed to remain by his side, forever. How could he wallow in total despair when this remains true?

You chose this, after all.

You chose him.

You did.

Didn’t you?

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