#jjk poly

[nanamineedstherapy]

The Symphony of Spite

Ryomen Sukuna x GN!Therapist Reader x Nanami Kento

Gojo Satoru x ..... (he's after one of your manz)

Also Crybaby!Gojo getting backshots from his Yandere

Summary: No summary. Read at your own risk. Because I don't even know what a good summary for this would be. A/N: I wrote this for fan-service. The fan was me.

Warnings (May Contain Spoilers): Crack Fic, NSFW Content, Explicit Language, Manipulative Relationship (just one, & it’s not yours—so relax), Toxic Dynamics (again, not yours—seriously chill), Office Romance, Love Triangle, Yandere (not your husbands, so breathe easy!), Corporate Shenanigans (think “The Office” but with more messy), Jealousy (why would you think yours? Do you not want a healthy relationship?! Let someone else have fun for once, please!), Mild Dub-Con (but only if you squint really hard), Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics (because we’re all about that corporate ladder climbing), Modern Corporate AU, Gojo is not all mighty here—just the office bimbo (yes, you read that right), you are a therapist married to Sukuna & Nanami (because... I honestly don't know), Satosugu genuinely hate each other (it’s not a enemies to lovers rom-com & has more punches), everyone wants to beat Gojo up (you'll see why), & yes, Haibara (the third wheel in your own marriage-one) is here for some reason winks. No use of y/n but you are referred to as wife once. Also, dycraphilia, fuckbuddies, & eventual smut—so if you’re underage or have a blog that’s ageless, please DNI. No, you can't skip it because they are talking during & it's essential to the plot. Enjoy the mess & remember: it’s all fun & games until someone gets a stapler thrown at them!

Nanami Kento and Ryomen Sukuna were two sides of the same corporate coin. Both had impeccable work ethics, immaculate wardrobes, and zero patience for corporate buffoonery. Their days were spent navigating a gauntlet of coworkers who couldn’t meet deadlines, bosses who made PowerPoint presentations last longer than historical eras, and HR seminars that reeked of faux positivity. And you? Their doting, mildly chaotic therapist wife, who absolutely did not have them as patients. That would be unethical, of course. But boy, did they unload their workplace woes at home as if you were billing them hourly.

It routinely started over dinner. Nanami was delicately slicing his steak while Sukuna gnawed on a chicken drumstick like he had a vendetta against poultry.

“Today,” Nanami began, his tone weary, “Kusakabe spent thirty minutes explaining why we don’t need to update our software, only to accidentally delete half the department’s spreadsheets because he clicked ‘yes’ on a pop-up without reading it.”

“Amateur,” Sukuna snorted, reaching for another drumstick. “I had to sit through three meetings about synergy today. Three! Do you know what synergy is? Nothing. It’s a fancy word for ‘waste Sukuna’s time.’”

You took a sip of your wine, your ears tuned in to the cacophony around you. It was as if a perfectly dysfunctional symphony of grievances had taken the stage, each voice blending into a chorus of disdain for corporate absurdities. Seriously, could someone just ask about your day? But of course, sharing anything meaningful was off the table, thanks to that pesky confidentiality clause.

---

A week later, you had a plan.

The idea struck during a particularly gruelling session with a patient who wouldn’t stop playing victim to her own bad decisions. You needed a release. No, they needed a release. Something cathartic but harmless. Something that could channel all their workplace frustrations into an outlet that wouldn’t get them arrested for arson.

You spent the weekend hunting for the perfect gift, eventually finding it in a quirky little music shop downtown. The shopkeeper had described it as “an instrument for anarchists.” Perfect.

That Monday evening, as Nanami and Sukuna returned home, you greeted them with an unsettlingly bright smile.

“What’s that face for?” Sukuna asked, suspicious.

“I have a gift for you both,” you announced, producing two brightly wrapped packages.

Nanami raised an eyebrow, his wariness palpable. True to form, Sukuna tore open his package without hesitation.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, holding up the obnoxious plastic horn.

“It’s called a vuvuzela,” you explained, barely containing your glee. “It’s an instrument. Well, sort of. It makes noise. Awful, horrible noise. Think of it as a stress reliever.” It was the infamous "instrument from hell,” notorious enough to be banned for its ear-splitting sound from hell.

Nanami opened his package with the resigned grace of a man who knew chaos was inevitable. His gift was a slightly different model, a kazoo. He held it up, inspecting it like it might bite him.

“You want us to... play these?” He asked, skeptical.

“No,” you said, grinning. “I want you to weaponize them.”

The next day, chaos reigned in their respective offices.

---

Nanami waited until Kusakabe began another ill-advised rant about company expenditures. He pulled the kazoo from his pocket, raised it to his lips, and unleashed a tuneless, nasally wail that drowned out Kusakabe’s voice.

The room fell silent. Kusakabe blinked. Nanami calmly put the kazoo back in his pocket and resumed taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Sukuna, predictably, took a more aggressive approach. During the fourth meeting of the day, as Fushiguro Toji, Chief Sales Officer (CSO) , droned on about “leveraging assets,” he stood, raised the vuvuzela like a battle horn, and blasted a deafening note that shook the windows.

“Consider that leveraged,” he growled before storming out.

When they returned home that evening, you were greeted by two men who looked far more relaxed than they had in months.

“You’re a menace,” Nanami said, setting his briefcase down.

“Best. Wife. Ever,” Sukuna declared, pulling you into a bear hug.

You smiled innocently. “So, how was your day?”

“Peaceful,” Nanami deadpanned. “Kusakabe hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“Same,” Sukuna added. “They’re terrified of me now. It’s glorious.”

You couldn’t have been prouder.

In the end, the vuvuzela and kazoo became permanent fixtures in their work lives, an ever-present reminder to their coworkers that some battles were better left unfought. And you? You had achieved the impossible: turning corporate hell into a symphony of spiteful joy.

---

Nanami had long accepted that Kaisen Publishing wasn’t a company—it was a living, breathing disaster. As the Chief Finance Officer (CFO)—a position he’d achieved through sheer competence, meticulous planning, and the soul-crushing acceptance that mediocrity often reigned supreme in corporate life—his role demanded precision and discipline, qualities he wielded with brutal efficiency. Yet, despite his best efforts, he often found himself surrounded by chaos personified by Ryomen Sukuna, the Chief Visionary Officer (CVO), a title as nonsensical as Sukuna’s presence in the corporate world.

Sukuna was a walking HR violation, somehow both loathed and revered. His title was a sham, a position created purely to keep him from actually burning the office down. He spent his days offering “visionary” ideas like turning the break room into a paintball arena or replacing desks with throne room-like chairs. How he landed the role remained a mystery, though most suspected it involved intimidation, bribery, or sheer dumb luck.

Their hierarchy wasn’t just about titles—it was about grudges. Higuruma Hiromi, the Chief Legal Officer (CLO), had made it his life’s mission to bury Sukuna under an avalanche of formal complaints. “Improper use of company funds,” “harassment of legal staff,” and “general misconduct” were regular entries on Hiromi’s weekly HR reports.

Shoko Ieiri, the Chief Human Resources Officer (CHRO), was Hiromi’s closest ally. Where Hiromi wielded legal jargon like a sword, Shoko was the sniper, striking with pinpoint precision. She could cite obscure clauses from the employee handbook with terrifying speed, and her ability to weaponize HR policy was unmatched.

Sukuna, naturally, responded with equal malice. “You’re like cockroaches,” he told Hiromi and Shoko during one particularly tense meeting. “Impossible to kill and even more annoying to deal with.”

Hiromi adjusted his cuffs. “And you’re like a plague—persistent, destructive, and entirely preventable.”

Shoko simply smiled. “We’re just doing our jobs, Sukuna.”

“Your jobs are ruining my life,” Sukuna shot back.

“Correct,” Shoko said, her grin widening.

---

Nanami’s greatest regret was hiring Gojo Satoru. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—Gojo had potential, an impressive academic background, and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Nanami thought he’d mold him into a competent executive assistant (EA). Instead, he got... this.

Gojo was, in many ways, the embodiment of corporate absurdity. His filing system was an enigma (folders labeled “stuff” and “more stuff”), and his scheduling skills were so bad they bordered on sabotage. Once, he accidentally double-booked Nanami for a budget meeting and a Zumba class. Nanami still hadn’t forgiven him for that because he'd never even taken a Zumba class to begin with.

“Satoru,” Nanami said one morning, staring at a calendar filled with overlapping meetings. “What is this?”

Gojo peeked over his shoulder, his blue eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Your schedule?”

“It looks like a Jackson Pollock painting,” Nanami deadpanned.

“I thought it’d be more efficient to, uh, multitask?” Gojo offered weakly.

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Satoru, if incompetence were an Olympic event, you’d not only take home the gold medal—you’d set a world record for sheer stupidity. Your talent for failure is truly unmatched.”

Later that day, Nanami would find Gojo crying quietly in the break room. But to his credit, Gojo showed up the next morning, ready to mess up all over again, still chasing the impossible dream of Nanami’s approval.

If Nanami’s life was an exercise in patience, Sukuna’s was an unrelenting storm of his own making. Geto Suguru, Sukuna’s EA, was the only reason Kaisen Publishing hadn’t imploded.

Geto Suguru was the miracle worker. If the company were a body, Sukuna was the ruptured artery, and Geto was the overworked surgeon keeping the patient alive with duct tape and sheer willpower.

Sukuna’s visionary ideas were like abstract art—vague, nonsensical, and utterly useless in their raw form. But Geto, with his near-superhuman patience, could transform them into actionable strategies. He charmed investors out of their skepticism after Sukuna’s profanity-laden tirades and even managed to prevent most board meetings from devolving into WWE matches.

But for all his professionalism, Geto had one vice: bullying Gojo Satoru.

When Gojo had first joined the team, Geto had felt immediately threatened, not just by his impressive academic pedigree but also by his striking looks. With that tousled hair and captivating features, Gojo was undeniably attractive. But his endless blunders quickly overshadowed any initial worry, making him seem more like a crybaby than a competent assistant. Geto had breathed a sigh of relief when Gojo’s probationary period ended, but the incompetence persisted, even after six months. It was as if Gojo had a talent for turning every simple task into a disaster, and Geto was all too happy to remind him of it at every opportunity. Geto knew Gojo was harmless—a pretty face with no bite—and he took full advantage of it.

“Hey,” Geto had said one day, leaning casually against Ijichi’s cubicle wall, sipping tea like it was a spectator sport. “Did you manage to file those reports yet, or are you too busy giving the CFO more wrinkles?” Yes, they were not friends by any stretch of the word. Not in this life.

Ijichi didn’t even look up from his screen, muttering, “Leave me out of this.”

Gojo, caught mid-fumble with a stack of papers, flushed from humiliation. “I—I filed them!” he stammered, clutching the documents like the last Horcrux.

“In the right Google form this time?” Geto’s smirk widened, his tone dripping with mock concern.

Gojo’s voice dropped to an inaudible mutter as he stared at his shoes.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Suguru,” Sukuna interrupted, striding past with the air of a man who owned the universe—or at least the vending machines in the break room. He cast a lazy, disdainful glance at Gojo. “The kid’s got a real talent for screwing up. It’s practically a superpower. Almost admirable, really.”

Geto snorted and followed Sukuna, leaving Gojo stewing in the ruins of his confidence.

His shoulders slumped under the weight of their mockery, but a flicker of defiance ignited within him. Maybe one day he’d prove them wrong.

Who was he kidding?

Gojo wasn’t just bad at his job—he was transcendently bad.

Every quarter, Geto tried to have him fired, but Nanami’s pesky kindness kept Gojo’s name off the termination list. One time after too many drinks at a company event, Nanami had described Gojo as “a lost puppy with a degree from Tokyo U,” and though the description fit, it didn’t make him any less insufferable.

All Gojo was now good for was being the office eye candy that no one took seriously.

What baffled everyone was Gojo’s persistence. After five years as Nanami’s executive assistant, he still couldn’t properly file an expense report. His "innovative" solutions caused more problems than they solved, like the time he scheduled a board meeting in the break room.

Sukuna had been there, loudly devouring a double cheeseburger while Toji, the CSO, and Kusakabe Atusya, the Director of Customer Experience (DCE) , lectured him on “professional decorum.” The lecture ended abruptly when Sukuna offered them half his burger.

Meanwhile, Hiromi Higuruma, the CLO, had stormed into Shoko Ieiri’s office to debate whether Sukuna’s habit of blowing a vuvuzela during lunch breaks qualified as workplace harassment. Shoko had suggested they would add it to the HR policy under “miscellaneous noise violations.”

And Nanami? He was in his office, typing a scathing email to the COO. He wasn’t defending Gojo because he believed in his potential anymore. That ship had sailed after Gojo accidentally attached a frog meme to a quarterly earnings report.

Now, Nanami’s argument was simple: “Firing him would violate our commitment to inclusivity. He’s… special needs.”

Despite the madness, Kaisen Publishing somehow continued to function. Hiromi and Shoko kept the legal and HR departments running like well-oiled machines, albeit fueled by spite. Geto ensured Sukuna’s chaotic energy didn’t destroy the company, while Gojo... well, Gojo tried his best.And Nanami? He soldiered on, kazoo in hand, ready to face another day in the madhouse.

---

The next day, Nanami arrived early, as always, to find Gojo already there. The younger man was standing in front of the coffee machine, staring at it like it had personally murdered his parents.

“Satoru,” Nanami said, exasperated, “what are you doing?”

“It’s… it’s broken,” Gojo sniffled, holding up a coffee pod. “I think I jammed it.”

Nanami sighed. “How do you jam a coffee machine?"

“I don’t know!” Gojo wailed, his silver hair catching the fluorescent light like some tragic anime protagonist.

Nanami sighed and pulled out the kazoo. He didn’t plan to use it, but just holding it gave him a sense of power. “Fix it, or you’re fetching coffee manually.”

Gojo’s lip quivered. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Despite his constant failures, Gojo clung to the job with a desperate determination that was almost admirable. At night, he cried over Nanami’s stern lectures, but every morning, he showed up, sky-blue eyes shining with a mix of hope and masochism.

His crush on Nanami didn’t help matters.

In Gojo’s mind, Nanami was the epitome of competence and discipline—everything he wasn’t. Every scolding felt like a dagger to his heart, but it also fueled his ridiculous fantasy that one day Nanami would notice him as more than just a walking disaster.

He did not know Nanami was married, let alone with Sukuna in the same boat.

Speaking of Sukuna, his morning was less composed.

“Mr. Sukuna, you can’t just ignore CLO’s emails,” Geto said as they walked into the office.

“I can, and I will,” Sukuna growled, swinging the vuvuzela over his shoulder like a baseball bat.

“You do realize he’s filing another complaint with HR?”

“Good,” Sukuna smirked. “Keeps them busy.”

As if summoned, Hiromi appeared, clutching a thick stack of papers. “Sukuna,” he said icily, “you can’t keep calling mandatory meetings and then not showing up.”

Sukuna raised the vuvuzela . “Mandatory this,” he said, blasting a note so loud it set off the fire alarm.

And you? You were at the club with your friends, chugging espresso martinis, unaware of the havoc your gifts were causing.

---

The next day, Nanami’s day started with a knock on his office door.

It was Gojo, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“What is this?” Nanami asked, already annoyed.

“I’m sorry for jamming the coffee machine,” Gojo said, eyes glistening. “And to schedule that meeting in the break room. And for... just everything.”

Nanami stared at him, torn between frustration and pity. “Gojo, you can’t fix incompetence with flowers.”

Gojo’s shoulders slumped. “I just… I just want you to not regret hiring me.”

Nanami sighed deeply. “Gojo, do your job, and maybe I will be.”

“Go easy on him, Kento-kun,” came a smooth voice from the corner of Nanami’s office.

Gojo was startled and whipped around his head. He hadn’t even noticed Haibara Yu, the Chief Editorial Officer (CEO), lounging there like a king holding court.

Nanami grumbled something under his breath, refusing to look up from his laptop.

Gojo blinked, his surprise melting into pure joy. “You’re back, sir?”

“Of course,” Haibara said, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “How have you been, Satoru? Hope Kento hasn’t tortured you too much in my absence.”

Gojo beamed, practically glowing under Haibara’s attention. “Oh no, he’s a good boss,” he said, glancing nervously at Nanami.

“I’m hard on him because he’s incompetent,” Nanami muttered, still not sparing Gojo a glance.

Gojo’s smile faltered, the corners of his mouth trembling.

“Don’t say that, Kento. He’s trying his best, and he’s loyal to you,” Haibara said, his tone dripping with a faint undertone of righteousness.

Haibara was one of the few people in the office who was genuinely kind to Gojo. He never joined in the teasing, never snapped at him for his constant mistakes. Nanami was kind too, in his own brusque way, but Haibara? Haibara felt like safety for Gojo.

Nanami murmured something under his breath that Haibara didn’t pay attention to.

He turned fully to Gojo. “Give me those flowers if he won’t take them.”

Gojo walked over and handed him the flowers with a smile, trying his best to hide his broken heart.

“They are beautiful, Satoru.” Haibara eyed them with a smile. "Kento, please have Ino move them to my office. Also, I’m borrowing your assistant for coffee; I hope it’s ok.” He asked, already rising to his feet.

Nanami waved a hand dismissively, still typing. “Borrow him permanently if you can.”

Haibara smirked. “You know Ino would kill me.”

---

They were out the door before Gojo could process what was happening.

Haibara made small talk as they walked, his tone light. “How’ve you been holding up while I was gone?”

Gojo ranted a little as Haibara listened with a quiet intensity that made Gojo feel seen.

And then, without warning, Haibara shoved him into the private bathroom adjoining his luxury office and locked the door with a soft click.

“Sir?” Gojo started, his voice trembling, but he didn’t get to finish.

Haibara’s mouth descended on his with a ferocity that stole the air from his lungs.

Gojo hesitated for half a second, his brain scrambling to catch up. Then a soft mewl escaped his throat as Haibara’s hand cupped him through his pants. It was as if that sound broke the dam. Gojo’s hands flew up, tangling in Haibara’s hair, pulling him closer as they kissed with a desperation that bordered on violence.

It felt like drowning and breathing for the first time, all at once.

Haibara broke the kiss only to bite Gojo’s neck, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin. Gojo gasped, his breathing ragged as Haibara turned his jaw to the side, exposing more of his neck.

“I asked you a question, princess,” Haibara murmured, his voice low and commanding.

Gojo blinked, trying to form a coherent thought through the haze of sensation. "I... I messed up again,” he stammered. “They hate me. The reports had errors, and the budgets—Geto explained the formula to me many times, but I still... I’m sorry.”

Haibara hummed, his lips trailing down Gojo’s throat as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“I broke the printer,” Gojo confessed, his voice breaking. “Shoko, Ijichi, and Hiromi fined me. I don’t even make enough.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Haibara said, his voice a velvet promise as he undid Gojo’s belt. “I’ll take care of it.”

Gojo whimpered as Haibara’s hand wrapped around his dick, stroking with a deliberate, almost punishing rhythm.

“I’m sorry, I’m so stupid,” Gojo babbled. “Sukuna, Toji, and Atsuya threatened to report me to HR because—because—”

“Because what?” Haibara asked, his tone gentle.

“Because I accidentally flashed them my waist during off-day tennis,” Gojo admitted, his face burning with humiliation. “I thought polo shirts were fine, but they said HR mandates suits, even off-duty. Did I do something wrong?”

“They’re messing with you,” Haibara said, his voice reassuring now, though his hands gripped Gojo’s slender waist possessively, almost bruising him as he placed him on the sink counter. “You’re not stupid.”

Gojo barely registered the words, his mind a blur of shame and pleasure. “Takuma’s trying to take my position,” he gasped. "Please... please take him back. I—I can’t lose this job.”

Haibara’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across his face.

“Don’t worry about Ino,” Haibara said, his voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge. “He was only reporting to Kento because I was on the business trip overseas.”

Gojo shivered, closing his eyes as Haibara’s fingers, slick with Gojo’s precum, traced circles around his rim.

For a moment, everything else faded—the humiliation, the fear, the endless cycle of mistakes. All that remained was Haibara, his touch, his voice, his overwhelming presence.

Sensing Gojo’s silence, Haibara reassured him again. “He’s not going to take anything from you. Keep talking.”

By now Gojo’s suit was rumpled, shirt open-untucked, and hair sticking up in all directions. By contrast, Haibara’s suit remained pristine, not a single strand of his neatly styled hair out of place.

Gojo grabbed Haibara by the collar, dragging him down into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He bit Haibara’s lower lip, desperate, breathless. “I can’t wait anymore. Please...”

Haibara chuckled, low and indulgent, his fingers trailing down Gojo’s chest. It seemed Gojo’s masochistic tendencies under Nanami’s berating also extended in the bedroom, where he’d take all of Haibara right now with barely any prep. “You’re so impatient, Cupcake. Are you sure? I don’t want you crying about it later.”

Gojo nodded furiously, his hands clutching at Haibara’s shirt like he was clinging to a lifeline. “Yes, Mr. Yu. Please, sir.”

Oh, how Haibara loved it.

And Haibara would give anything those big, watery doe eyes begged him for.

Freeing himself from his pants, Haibara gave himself a few slow pumps, his eyes never leaving Gojo’s flushed, needy face.

Gojo was trying his best not to drool because just looking at Haibara’s cock was making him dumb dicked.

Then, with excruciating deliberation, he pressed into him, inch by inch, watching as Gojo’s mouth fell open in a soundless cry.

“What else happened?” Haibara asked, his voice calm and almost conversational, as though they weren’t in this compromising position.

Gojo struggled to answer, but his thoughts scattered the moment Haibara moved, his hips pressing forward, slowly. Gojo’s hands flew to Haibara’s hair, tugging as if he were going to fall. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, “Nanami-san... still hates me—ahhh!” Then cut himself off when Haibara pushed into him to the hilt, making Gojo’s back arch and eyes water.

Haibara wiped away a stray tear from Gojo’s cheek and licked it off his thumb as he started a slow, punishing rhythm. “Poor thing. Can’t even handle a little dick without crying, huh?” He teased with a smirk. “Keep going, sweet Satoru.”

Gojo whined, his voice trembling. “I mixed up the Compliance and Risk Management files with the Financial Forecasting ones... and sent them to the client by mistake. It cost the company so much money. Nanami didn’t talk to me for a week. I—I hated myself so much.”

Haibara kissed down Gojo’s chest, nipping at the sensitive skin of his nipples. His lips curved into something resembling soft, soothing coos. “Don’t hate yourself. It’s okay. It was an innocent mistake.”

Gojo was struggling to focus on Haibara’s words while he rearranged his inside by bullying his G-spot.

“No,” Gojo whimpered, his head falling back against the mirror. “Geto warned me what not to mess up, and I still did. I knew better.”

Haibara was at a loss for words now; he really dug himself there, but his rhythm didn’t falter. “Still, Kento overreacted. He’s always been stuck up like that.”

Gojo’s cries grew louder, his fingers digging into Haibara’s shoulders. “I just want him to see me as competent. I want to make his life easier, but I only make it worse—for him, for Geto. He humiliates me every day, and I deserve it. I’m useless. I make him feel like he’s doing two people’s jobs.”

Haibara stilled for a moment, his hands tightening on Gojo’s hips. “Do you want me to fire him?”

Gojo’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his tear-streaked face. “No! No, Mr. Yu, please, sir. Sukuna won’t let it happen, and I don’t want you getting hurt. He’s... he’s violent.”

Oh, his office bimbo—his crybaby. He hadn’t realized Haibara could fire anyone, even Sukuna if necessary. But as he considered it, keeping Geto around might not be so bad if it meant having the little crying angel all to himself. “Fine. I won’t touch him. But don’t just listen to him. Stand up for yourself. Or tell me, and I’ll talk to HR.” His thrusts grew faster, rougher, each movement a reminder of his control.

Gojo clung to Haibara like his life depended on it, sweat-drenched hair plastered to his forehead. His wide, glassy eyes fixed on where Haibara disappeared and reappeared into him over and over again, his lips parted in broken gasps.

“Agreed?” Haibara asked, his brows furrowing as his voice dropped to a low, commanding tone. He yanked Gojo’s hair, compelling him to meet his gaze.

Gojo, still being impaled, couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. He hid his face in Haibara's shoulder, his voice breaking with a choked moan. “Yes, sir…. Thank you,” he sobbed, his voice trembling. “But I feel so bad for Nanami-san. He’ll never see my love for him. I’m just so useless to him.”

Haibara leaned in, his tongue tracing the tear-streaked paths on Gojo’s flushed cheeks. The way Gojo’s dick twitched against his stomach told him he was close, teetering on the edge. But Haibara wasn’t done. Not yet.

He pulled out abruptly, ignoring Gojo’s whimper of protest, and dragged him down from the sink counter.

Turning him to face the warm-lit, golden-bordered mirror, Haibara pushed into him again, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. Gojo’s fingers tangled in Haibara’s hair, clutching desperately as Haibara licked, bit, and sucked on the delicate skin of his shoulders and back.

Haibara’s smirk darkened as he watched Gojo’s reflection—flushed, tear-streaked, and trembling under his touch.

His crybaby. His alone. The thought of Gojo’s unrelenting admiration for Nanami sent acid through his veins, but the jealousy only fueled him. He’d make sure Gojo stayed this vulnerable, this wrecked, for him and him alone.

Without warning, Haibara grabbed Gojo’s neck, holding him still as he reached for the small velvet box on the counter. He placed a custom Hermès necklace around Gojo’s neck, the gold gleaming against his sweat-slicked porcelain skin.

Gojo blinked, dazed, too overwhelmed to notice until Haibara whispered, “Look.”

"But... but what’s the need?” Gojo stammered, his voice cracking as his eyes flitted between the mirror and the necklace. “I already barely get to wear the Bulgari Serpenti Viper one you gave me...”

A smile tugged at his lips despite his protest.

Haibara chuckled, tightening his grip on Gojo’s neck just enough to make him gasp. He adjusted his angle, thrusting harder, deeper, drawing a strangled cry from Gojo. “It’s to remind you,” Haibara said, his voice a low growl, “that you’re not as much of a fuck-up as you think you are. I don’t spend a week hunting down the perfect necklace in Paris for just anyone.” He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts that made Gojo’s knees buckle.

“But Nanami-san…” Gojo’s voice was barely audible now, his legs trembling, threatening to give out. He was pent up after months of dry spell.

“Don’t worry about him when I’m making you feel this good.” Haibara pinched Gojo’s ass, grinning wolfishly as Gojo let out a high-pitched cry.

“Ahh, Mr. Yu!”

Haibara’s pace stayed unrelenting, his stamina endless and the dick to back it up with the way it bullied him in the right places.

“Now, I’ll ask again,” Haibara said, his voice dark and firm, “do you understand?” He gave a particularly hard thirst because he knew Gojo was close with the way his body was trembling.

“Y-yes, Mr. Yu,” Gojo sobbed, his voice cracking as he gripped Haibara’s arm and the counter for dear life. “Harder, please.”

Haibara’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he watched Gojo unravel, each tear and whimper intensifying the dark, possessive hunger within him. His crybaby was so easy to break. He obliged, his movements rough and unforgiving.

The necklace brought him immense joy; unbeknownst to Gojo, it concealed the initials H.Y. and G.S., visible only under a microscope.

This was his. His crybaby. His angel. And no one—no, one—was going to take him away.

“Cum for me, Pumpkin,” he ordered, stroking Gojo’s cock, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Gojo’s lips trembled. “Are you calling me fat?” His voice wavered, and fresh tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at his chest and stomach.

Ah, this was also one of his annoying habits—to overthink everything.

“No, I just find you cute as a pumpkin with a pretty bow on top.” But Haibara was nothing if not his good yandere.

Gojo let out a choked laugh, his cheeks flushing deeper.

“Now cum for me, Sweetheart,” Haibara commanded, his voice dripping with authority.

Gojo’s legs would have given out if not for Haibara’s arms holding him, trembling violently as he fell apart, making a mess of himself. His cries echoed in the mirror, raw.

Haibara followed soon after, burying himself deep as his release tore through him. His grip on Gojo’s waist tightened, keeping him steady as both of them tried to catch their breath.

He pressed a soft kiss to Gojo’s shoulder. “Mine,” he thought to himself—against Gojo’s skin, the word more a promise than a statement.

Haibara gazed at the tear-streaked, thoroughly wrecked man in his arms, possessiveness tightening in his chest like a vice. No one—not even Kento—would take Gojo from him. Ever.

Gently, Haibara began fixing Gojo’s disheveled shirt and straightening his hair. If he left it up to Gojo, his clumsy ass would walk back into the office with something glaringly out of place, and the whole roaster would piece together what they’d been doing behind closed doors for over a year.

It had all started when he’d found Gojo crying alone in Nanami’s office after everyone had left, his resignation letter in his shaking hands.

That night, Haibara hadn’t just talked him out of it but also fucked him brainless until Gojo couldn’t move and forgot everything—Nanami, the resignation, his doubts—until all he could do was cling to Haibara, unable to think, or even breathe without him.

But what Haibara wouldn’t admit to anyone—not even Gojo—was that it wasn’t luck that led him there that night. He’d spent months trying to get close to him, memorizing every detail of Gojo’s life, from his coffee order to his laundry instructions. He’d followed him for months after hours, cataloguing every habit, every vulnerability, and beaten the shit out of those print factory workers harassing Gojo, catcalling him on his way into the building. Haibara made sure they never showed up to work again.

Now, they were office fuckbuddies, not that Haibara wanted it this way. Gojo still had that infuriating crush on Nanami, still sprinted off to fetch his lunch or his coffee like a lovesick puppy. But Haibara wasn’t worried. He was patient.

For now.

He caressed Gojo’s cheeks as the latter giggled, his fingers brushing over the gold custom Hermès necklace. His eyes sparkled, oblivious to the weight of Haibara’s stare.

“Wanna grab dinner tonight?” Haibara asked absentmindedly, smoothing the collar of Gojo’s shirt. He was ready for the usual rejection.

Then something shifted—just for a moment. Gojo looked at him differently, as though he was almost seeing him.

Haibara’s chest tightened, hope flickering dangerously.

But then Gojo’s phone buzzed, and he gasped. “Oh my god, I’m late to get Nanami-san’s lunch!” He spun, ready to bolt out the door.

Haibara’s hand shot out, catching Gojo’s wrist mid-step. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over the delicate pulse point inside. Gojo froze, his breath hitching as Haibara leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss there.

Haibara’s dark eyes locked onto Gojo’s wide, cerulean ones.

Gojo’s cheeks flared red, the blush creeping up to his ears. He stammered something unintelligible before taking his hand back and sprinting out the door.

Haibara watched him go, his lips curling into a slow, satisfied smile.

---

Meanwhile, Sukuna was dealing with HR.

“This is the fifth complaint this week,” Shoko said, leaning back in her chair. “You can’t keep terrorizing the office with that thing.”

Sukuna smirked, spinning the vuvuzela in his hands. “Prove it’s me.”

“We have video evidence,” Hiromi snapped.

“So?” Sukuna shrugged. “I’m a visionary. Visionaries disrupt.”

“You’re disrupting my sanity,” Hiromi muttered.

By the end of the next week, the vuvuzela and kazoo had become infamous. Employees fled at the sight of Sukuna, while Nanami’s kazoo had become a symbol of silent ‘fuck you’ to corporate overlords. Even Gojo seemed to improve, if only slightly, terrified of losing Nanami’s approval.

---

Next week, it all came to a head when Sukuna proposed a company-wide retreat at a remote hot spring. “We need to boost morale,” he said, grinning like a man with ulterior motives.

“What you need,” Hiromi snapped, “is to stop submitting reimbursement requests for your vuvuzelas."

Shoko added, “I think we should approve the retreat. The HR department could use a break from writing up Sukuna’s infractions.”

Nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Somewhere in the background, Gojo tripped over his own foot, spilling coffee all over the floor. Geto muttered something about bringing bleach to the retreat—“for the stains,” he clarified when Hiromi raised an eyebrow. Toji and Kusakabe almost got written up by Shoko for laughing.

As the meeting dissolved into a podium fight, Nanami reached for his kazoo. Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept him sane.

And you couldn’t be more proud. After all, corporate life was all about making your mark—and thanks to you, your husbands were leaving theirs in the loudest, most obnoxious way possible.

---

Later that day, the boardroom was uncharacteristically quiet, the air thick with confusion and the faint hum of the overhead lights. No one had any idea why they’d been summoned.  

“Why are we even here?” Shoko leaned toward Hiromi, her voice low and tinged with boredom.  

“To meet the elusive COO,” Toji replied with a shrug, stretching his legs under the table.  

Ino, perched nervously next to Haibara, was painstakingly organizing a pile of notes into immaculate fonts on his tab. Geto had his arms crossed as he watched Ino’s note-sorting with mild disdain.  

Kusakabe adjusted his coat and looked around. “Seriously, though, how come we’ve never met this COO? It’s weird.”  

“Germophobia,” Ino offered matter-of-factly. “Someone in HR said he avoids public spaces entirely.”  

The sound of a door creaking open cut the conversation short.  

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”  

The voice was unfamiliar yet strangely resonant, coming from the far end of the room.

Everyone turned to see a figure stepping out of the shadows—a tall man with striking white hair, his suit sharp enough to cut titanium.  

For a moment, no one spoke. The employees exchanged puzzled glances, and Shoko tilted her head in confusion.  

“Gojo?” Geto broke the silence, his voice laced with disbelief. “Did you screw up another meeting schedule? We’re supposed to be meeting the COO, not—”  

“No, Suguru.” 

Geto bristled at Gojo's use of his first name; one time he nearly received a ticket from HR for threatening violence over it, while Gojo sniffled near the ferns.

But this time, the voice was steady and calm, a whiplash from the bumbling tone they had come to expect from the clumsy assistant as the white-haired man stepped fully into the light, exuding an air of confidence and ownership.  

Nanami’s expression shifted from tired annoyance to something closer to alarm. “What… is this?”  

Gojo—or whoever he was—smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. I’m Gojo Satoru. Chief of Operations (COO) of Kaisen Publishingbarely. ”  

The room froze.  

“Excuse me?” Hiromi’s tone was accusatory.  

“I understand this might be a bit of a shock,” Gojo continued, his voice perfectly even. “But the truth is, I’ve been observing all of you from a different perspective. And now, it’s time for me to take a more active role.”  

Geto’s jaw tightened, his composure cracking. “You’ve been... what? Playing the fool? For five years?"  

“Precisely.” Gojo’s smirk widened slightly, his icy blue eyes scanning the room. “I needed to see who I could trust, who would rise to the occasion, and who would crack under pressure.”  

“Trust?” Sukuna growled, his tone low and dangerous. “You mean to tell me you’ve been watching us like lab rats?”  

“I prefer the term ‘case study,’” Gojo said, his voice as smooth as olive.  

Shoko let out a low whistle, breaking the tension enough to speak. “This is some next-level corporate psychodrama. You’ve been playing dumb for years just to—what? Test us?”  

Gojo’s gaze landed on Nanami, who looked like he’d just been handed a live grenade. “And you,” Gojo said, his voice softening just slightly. “Thank you for your patience, Kento. You believed in me when no one else did.”  

Nanami’s face hardened. “I believed in someone who didn’t exist.”  

The room fell silent again, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Gojo adjusted his cufflinks, the faintest trace of a grin playing at his lips.  

“Well,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “I hope this clears up any confusion. From now on, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me. Let’s make sure Kaisen Publishing continues to thrive.”

Before leaving, he stopped and turned, “Also, Haibara, a word?”

Whatever was going on in Haibara’s head, he didn’t show, just followed.

And with that, Gojo walked out, leaving the boardroom in stunned silence.

A/N: I swear, this started as a cute little fic about the reader giving Nanami a kazoo, & somehow it spiraled into corporate angst, smut, & crybaby gojo for some reason. Like he's the office bimbo who no one takes seriously, truly a man in women-dominated fields. haha.. I’ve only written smut four times, & yet TWO of those have Nanami topping & Gojo being a bottom in two, while Haibara & Sukuna top somewhere in there. I'm baffled! Like… how did we get here? I’m confused because canon Gojo radiates I’m-the-top-but-I-cry-after energy, yet here I am, dragging him into bottom hell AGAIN. (Honestly? No regrets; all of us would lick his tears too, SHAMELESSLY!) Haibara, though… HAIBARA. Listen, I gave myself whiplash writing him. He’s my own OC from my fic 'Third Wheeling your own Marriage," & yet I’m feral for him. You guys hyping him up like he’s canon-validates every single unhinged decision I made there. We never saw adult Haibara, but I was like, "What if he was hot, obsessive, & dom-coded?” And here we are. This man fights for Gojo, literally & metaphorically, while Nanami sighs in the background with his kazoo. Quick sidebar: Tumblr, confuses me. For an app full of people who swear they don’t self-ship, why is every other post a “x reader” fic? No hate (I’m guilty too), just an observation. Shoutout to my AO3 gang, though—we ride for our ships. Nanago nation, rise up. I said what I said: Nanago makes more sense for adult Gojo. Don’t agree? Go argue with a wall. I love Satosugu; I do, but Nanami is just… superior. (Maybe because I, too, am a corporate baddie barely holding it together. We’re twinning.) Anyway, sorry for the rant. Toji & Kusakabe backtracking on Sukuna mid-lecture because they wanted his burger was comedy gold, btw. Did you check the links? Bonus points if you did!

Oh, & about the ending… what do you think Gojo called Haibara for? Did they agree to date, or did Gojo threaten him with something? Let me know, because even I’m questioning their dynamic at this point. Okay, bye for real this time! 💕

Next Chapter 2 - The Symphony of Stress-Relief (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[sonarspace]

❝ TOUCH ME, TAKE ME, KISS ME ❞

ft. gojo, geto & shoko. (4some)

꒰ synopsis. where celebrating new year’s with your best friends turns into something much more intimate—one kiss at midnight isn’t nearly enough.

warnings. MDNI. college au. fem! reader, fōursome, mutual pining, unprotected p in v, orāl (f! and m! receiving), fingerıng (f! and m! receiving), clıt stimulation, overstimulation, dirty talk, shared partner dynamics, voyeurism, slight dom/sub vibes, hair pulling, teasing, praise kink, body worship, light biting/marking, cųm play, & multiple orgasmś.

the cabin was exactly what you’d expect from satoru gojo – unnecessarily luxurious, tucked away on the outskirts of a snowy mountain town, and equipped with every amenity that screamed rich kid with too much money to burn.

“seriously, satoru, who the hell needs a jacuzzi in their living room?” shoko teased, setting her duffel down by the entryway. the bubbling water glowed from the built-in lights, steam curling lazily into the warm space.

gojo smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie. “it’s about the vibes, shoko. the experience. and, i dunno, maybe i just like having options.”

geto, sitting cross-legged on the couch, glanced up from his phone. “yeah? and when’s the last time you used it?”

“hey, i brought you guys here, didn’t i? sounds like ungrateful energy to me,” gojo shot back, though his grin didn’t waver.

you chuckled softly, toeing off your boots near the fireplace, letting the heat seep through your socks. the large windows stretched across the far wall, showcasing the snow falling steadily outside, blanketing the trees under the silver moonlight.

“he’s right, though,” you chimed in, peeling off your jacket. “we could’ve rung in the new year at some regular house party. but instead, we’re here. cozy, secluded... not the worst way to spend our last new year as college students.”

“see? someone gets it,” gojo said, flashing you that familiar, lopsided grin.

you rolled your eyes, but the truth was, you didn’t mind. the four of you had been close since your freshman year, and as the years piled up, so did the late-night study sessions, spontaneous road trips, and drunken confessions after long nights out. this felt like a full-circle moment. one final hurrah before graduation came sweeping in to change everything.

shoko tossed herself onto the couch beside geto, tugging off her beanie and shaking out her hair. “so, what’s the plan? drinking games until midnight, or are we just free-styling it?”

“why not both?” suguru said, stretching an arm behind her, fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder where you leaned against the armrest. the contact was subtle, but you felt it linger.

gojo raised a brow, tilting his head dramatically. “i was thinking strip poker.”

shoko snorted, flicking his forehead. “sure. you’d be naked in five minutes.”

“is that supposed to be a problem?”

your eyes flickered to suguru, catching the small smirk pulling at his lips. his gaze met yours for half a second, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, before dropping back to his phone.

this wasn’t the first time you’d caught the lingering tension between everyone – the casual touches, the way shoko’s gaze would sometimes linger on you a little too long, or the moments gojo’s hands would rest on your lower back at parties, guiding you through crowds when he didn’t really need to.

you weren’t oblivious. but none of you had ever crossed that line.

yet.

“alright, let’s start with drinks,” you suggested, pushing yourself to your feet. “anyone want to help me?”

“i got it,” geto said, standing with an easy grace. “come on.”

as the two of you headed into the kitchen, shoko and gojo’s quiet laughter echoed softly from the living room, the crackling fire filling the otherwise silent cabin.

suguru leaned against the counter, watching as you rummaged through the cabinets.

“so,” he started, his voice low and smooth, “how are you feeling about tonight?”

you glanced over your shoulder. “in general? or is this a ‘we’re about to graduate, what are you doing with your life?’ kind of question?”

his lips quirked. “both, maybe.”

you sighed, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. “i’m trying not to think about it too hard. tonight’s about celebrating, not panicking about the future.”

he nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes lingered.

“you know,” he mused, stepping closer, “satoru’s not wrong. it is kind of a waste to let this cabin go to waste.”

“what are you suggesting?” you teased, pouring the whiskey into a glass.

suguru’s gaze dipped, trailing over you slowly before flicking back to your eyes. “just saying… midnight’s a good time for new experiences.”

heat prickled your skin under his stare, but before you could respond, gojo’s voice rang out from the other room.

“hey, you two! quit flirting and bring the damn drinks!”

you laughed, but suguru didn’t move right away. instead, his fingers brushed lightly against your wrist as he grabbed the bottle from the counter, his touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

yeah. tonight was going to be interesting.

the drinks flowed easily, laughter spilling into the warm cabin air as the four of you huddled near the fireplace, sprawled across the plush rugs and oversized pillows. suguru sat beside you, his knee brushing yours with every shift, while gojo leaned against the couch, one long arm lazily slung around shoko’s shoulders.

“alright,” gojo drawled, tipping back his glass. his eyes glittered behind those obnoxious shades he insisted on wearing inside. “time for a game.”

“drinking game?” shoko asked, already halfway through her second glass of whiskey.

“nope.” gojo’s smirk curled wickedly. “truth or dare.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “what are we? sixteen?”

“don’t knock it,” suguru said smoothly, his eyes half-lidded as he sipped his drink. “it could be fun. besides, satoru’s incapable of suggesting anything mature.”

gojo shot him a look. “this coming from the guy who suggested skinny dipping in the hot tub an hour ago.”

“that was different. it was an intellectual suggestion.”

“sure it was.”

shoko waved a hand dismissively. “fine. truth or dare it is. but no stupid shit like licking the floor or whatever. we’re not in a frat house.”

gojo grinned, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “who’s starting?”

your hand shot up, aiming for the path of least resistance. “truth.”

“boring,” gojo muttered, but there was mischief behind the slight pout. “alright, fine. if you had to kiss one of us at midnight, who would it be?”

the room fell quiet for a beat too long. you felt three sets of eyes zero in on you, the weight of their attention thick enough to taste.

“uh—” you faltered, heat crawling up your neck.

“careful,” suguru murmured beside you, voice low and teasing. “we’ll know if you’re lying.”

your gaze flicked to his, catching the flicker of something darker in his expression. your heart thudded a little harder.

“i dunno,” you hedged, taking a slow sip of your drink. “depends on the mood, i guess.”

gojo leaned closer, grinning like he’d already won. “that’s not an answer.”

“then take it as my answer.”

shoko laughed, leaning back against the couch cushions. “she’s playing it safe. smart girl.”

but the tension lingered, subtle but persistent, weaving through the air like smoke.

“my turn,” suguru cut in smoothly, tilting his head toward gojo. “truth or dare?”

“dare, obviously.”

“kiss shoko.”

“easy.”

without hesitation, gojo leaned down and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to shoko’s lips. she didn’t pull away – if anything, her hand slid lazily up his arm, nails grazing lightly against his skin before they parted.

“you guys have done that before,” you pointed out, trying to ignore the heat twisting low in your stomach.

“multiple times,” shoko replied, smirking. “you’re late to the party.”

gojo winked. “jealous?”

“not particularly.”

but the idea lodged itself somewhere deep. maybe it was the alcohol warming your veins, or the way suguru’s hand rested against the small of your back, light but possessive, but the thought lingered.

midnight wasn’t that far off.

the countdown started around 11:50. the drinks were mostly forgotten by then, the four of you curled closer near the fire, the alcohol buzzing quietly in your heads.

“five minutes,” gojo announced, his voice dropping to something smoother, almost suggestive. “better start thinking about that kiss.”

shoko stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “maybe we should just kiss each other. take the guesswork out of it.”

your stomach flipped at her casual tone, but when you glanced at suguru, his gaze was already fixed on you.

“not opposed,” he said softly.

gojo made a low hum of approval, sitting up straighter. “why not?”

“you’re all serious about this?” you asked, voice tipping toward incredulous, but your pulse betrayed you, hammering against your ribs.

“you’re curious,” suguru countered, brushing his knuckles against your thigh.

and you were. the tension had been building for years – subtle glances, fleeting touches, unspoken things hanging just out of reach.

“alright,” you relented, the words tasting like adrenaline on your tongue. “fine.”

the countdown echoed on the tv screen, bright against the dim cabin.

ten.

nine.

suguru shifted closer, his thigh pressed against yours.

eight.

seven.

gojo’s gaze dropped to your lips, his grin softer, teasing.

six.

shoko leaned into your side, her arm brushing yours.

five.

four.

your breath hitched as suguru’s hand curled under your chin, tilting your face toward his.

three.

two.

one.

their lips met yours at the same time – suguru’s mouth warm and steady, while shoko’s was softer, tasting faintly of whiskey.

you lost yourself in it, your hand fisting in suguru’s shirt as gojo’s hand brushed against your lower back, slipping lower, pulling you closer.

and just like that, the line dissolved completely.

the kiss started playful—soft touches, slow exploration—but the heat behind it caught quickly, sparking into something heavier. suguru’s fingers brushed your jaw, coaxing your lips open as his tongue slid against yours, slow and possessive. shoko’s mouth trailed along your neck, leaving wet kisses against your pulse, while gojo’s hand slipped under the hem of your sweater, his palm warm as it splayed across your waist.

you broke the kiss with suguru only to meet shoko’s lips, her tongue teasing against yours as she pressed closer, her hands slipping down to rest on your thighs. the space between the four of you seemed to vanish, replaced by the weight of wandering hands and shared breaths.

gojo groaned softly, nipping at suguru’s bottom lip before tugging him back by the collar, stealing a kiss that left no room for subtlety. suguru didn’t resist, his hand tangling in gojo’s hair, tilting his head to deepen it. the sight had your breath catching, heat pooling low in your stomach.

“god, you two,” shoko muttered, smirking against your lips. “it’s like watching a porno.”

“jealous?” gojo quipped, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes glittering with amusement.

“maybe.”

“you get her,” suguru said smoothly, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “we’ll be back.”

before you could question it, gojo grabbed suguru’s wrist and led him out of the living room, disappearing into the hall with low, breathy laughter echoing behind them.

the absence of their presence left you and shoko tangled together on the rug by the fire, the crackling flames casting soft shadows across her face.

“guess it’s just us,” she murmured, her fingers tracing light patterns over your thighs.

“seems like it,” you whispered, barely able to focus with the heat of her body pressed so close.

shoko didn’t waste time once the boys left the room. her lips crashed into yours, all tongue and teeth, as if she’d been holding back for too long. you could feel the heat radiating off her as her hands roamed your body, tugging at the edges of your sweater until it slipped over your head.

her palms were warm against your bare skin, fingertips skimming the soft curve of your breasts, and you gasped into her mouth, arching into her touch.

“fuck,” she whispered, eyes trailing down your body, drinking you in like she couldn’t get enough. “been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

you let her take control, her nails scraping lightly down your back as she kissed a path to your collarbone, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin.

your sweater, jeans, and everything else ended up in a pile near the fireplace, leaving you bare and vulnerable in the soft flicker of firelight. shoko settled between your legs, her hands pressing your thighs apart with a confidence that had you squirming beneath her.

“you’re so wet already,” she murmured, dragging a single finger through your folds. “you like this, huh?”

you could barely nod, the sensation making you dizzy.

her mouth followed, soft lips trailing over the inside of your thighs, her tongue flicking out to catch the slick gathering at your core.

“fuck, shoko,” you gasped, hips bucking when she sucked your clit between her lips, the warmth of her tongue making you shudder.

her grip on your thighs tightened, nails digging into the soft flesh as she kept you pinned, her mouth relentless.

“stay still,” she mumbled, voice muffled against you.

it was impossible. you tugged lightly at her hair, desperate for something to hold onto as she worked you closer to the edge, her tongue curling just right.

you didn’t even notice the sound of footsteps until shoko pulled back slightly, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk.

“oh,” she hummed, licking her lips. “you two back already?”

your gaze snapped to the doorway.

gojo and geto stood there, completely bare, their cocks hard and already dripping.

“we were enjoying the view,” gojo said, his voice deeper, laced with something dark as his gaze fixed on you.

geto stepped forward first, his eyes hooded as he stroked himself lazily, clearly not in any rush. “didn’t know you’d start without us.”

“you two looked busy,” shoko teased, swiping her thumb across her bottom lip, catching the glisten of your arousal.

“don’t stop on our account,” gojo added, stepping closer, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he knelt beside you.

shoko chuckled, glancing down at you with amusement in her eyes. “what do you think?”

you didn’t know how to answer, too overwhelmed by the weight of their attention—the way geto’s dark gaze lingered on your mouth, the curve of gojo’s smirk as he ran his fingers along your inner thigh.

“she can take it,” geto murmured, brushing his lips along the curve of your jaw. “she’s been good so far.”

shoko shifted lower, her breath hot against your core, but this time, geto was beside her, his lips pressing soft kisses to your clit before shoko’s tongue joined him.

“fuck—” your breath hitched, your back arching off the floor as their mouths worked in tandem, the slick warmth of their tongues too much.

gojo, not wanting to be left out, moved behind you, his lips ghosting along your neck as his fingers slid into your pussy, curling to meet the rhythm of their mouths.

“so fucking pretty,” he whispered into your ear, biting lightly at the lobe. “you like being the center of attention, don’t you?”

you couldn’t answer, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling as the knot in your stomach tightened.

“c’mon,” shoko coaxed, her tongue circling your clit faster. “let go for us.”

you did, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your orgasm tore through you, your hips jerking uncontrollably as shoko and geto didn’t stop, their mouths and fingers milking every last drop of pleasure.

when you finally opened your eyes, dazed and breathless, geto was already shifting, settling between your legs as gojo moved to take his place beside shoko.

“don’t be greedy, shoko,” gojo teased, his lips brushing yours as geto lined himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing inside.

shoko’s hand slipped beneath your jaw, guiding you to look at her as geto thrust into you, stretching you wide.

“you can give us one more,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours as her lips hovered inches from your mouth. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

geto’s cock stretched you to the hilt, the fullness making you shudder as he bottomed out, his forehead pressed against yours. shoko’s hand traced slow circles along your cheek, grounding you with soft touches even as her other hand slipped lower, two fingers pressing against your clit, slick from how drenched you were.

“you’re taking him so well,” she whispered, her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “but you can take more, can’t you?”

you nodded weakly, body already trembling, but the praise made your stomach flutter.

gojo shifted, moving behind you, his lips trailing lazy kisses along the curve of your shoulder. “gonna open you up even more,” he murmured, his fingers dragging down the length of your stomach, teasing along the edge of your folds where geto’s cock stretched you.

you felt his middle finger slip inside, pressing against the soft spot geto wasn’t reaching. the sensation was dizzying.

“so fucking tight,” gojo hissed, sliding another finger in beside the first, stretching you further. “can feel how deep suguru is inside you.”

shoko’s breath tickled your lips as her fingers drifted lower, joining gojo’s as he stretched you open, the combination of their touches leaving you gasping.

“so sensitive,” shoko cooed, pressing soft kisses along your jawline, her fingers brushing light circles around your clit.

gojo’s third finger slipped inside, the stretch nearly overwhelming, and your nails dug into the rug beneath you as your back arched, your body tightening around them both.

“fuck,” geto grunted, his cock twitching inside you. “she’s squeezing me like crazy.”

“feels good, doesn’t it?” gojo teased, his smirk audible even if you couldn’t see him. “she’s so warm… bet you won’t last long.”

geto’s grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts slowing, each drag of his cock purposeful as he pushed deep, grinding against the spot that made you tremble.

you whimpered, barely able to take it all in, your body stretched beyond its limits but craving more. shoko kissed the corner of your mouth, her lips lingering just long enough to make you chase after her, your tongue brushing against hers in a soft, needy motion.

“i can feel how close you are,” she whispered, her fingers pinching your clit just enough to make you jolt. “you’re trembling.”

gojo’s fingers pressed deeper, curling in a way that sent sparks shooting through you, and you nearly sobbed from the intensity.

“you’re holding back,” gojo whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “let go, sweetheart. we’re not stopping till you’re a mess beneath us.”

geto groaned, his pace faltering, hips snapping faster as he chased his own pleasure, his grip bruising in the best way.

shoko dipped her head lower, trailing soft kisses down your neck, her hand leaving your jaw to tug gently at one of your nipples, rolling it between her fingers as her other hand continued its teasing strokes over your swollen clit.

“give it to us,” she coaxed, her voice laced with a softness that made your chest ache. “you can take it, pretty girl. just one more, i know you can.”

your breath hitched, the knot in your stomach tightening as the pressure mounted.

“fuck—shoko, i’m gonna—”

“i know,” she whispered, her lips pressing to yours in a soft, breathless kiss.

the wave hit you hard, your walls fluttering around geto’s cock as your orgasm crashed over you, your hips jerking up to meet his thrusts as gojo’s fingers kept curling inside, stretching you open further.

“that’s it,” gojo growled, pulling his fingers out just as geto’s pace grew erratic.

“fuck, i’m close,” geto grunted, thrusting hard one last time before he groaned low in his throat, spilling into you with a slow roll of his hips.

shoko kissed you through it, swallowing your soft cries as geto leaned forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder, chest heaving.

but they didn’t stop.

geto groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he gave one last deep thrust, burying himself fully inside you as he spilled, warmth flooding your core.

your body trembled, the overstimulation leaving you breathless, forehead pressed against shoko’s shoulder as she ran soft fingers through your hair, grounding you.

“fuck,” geto whispered, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he pulled out slowly, his cum slipping down your thighs, sticky and warm against your skin.

but even as geto leaned back, his hands still lingering on your hips, gojo wasn’t done.

his cock throbbed against your thigh, heavy and slick with precum, the tip flushed and desperate for attention.

you felt his gaze on you, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your face toward him.

“think you can help me out, pretty girl?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a teasing kiss, but his hips were already shifting closer, his cock pressing insistently against your palm.

you nodded, the quiet desperation in his voice making you throb, still sensitive from geto’s lingering touch. your fingers curled around him, warm and slick as you stroked slowly, feeling the weight of him in your hand.

“fuck, just like that,” he groaned, tipping his head back slightly as his hand covered yours, guiding your pace.

meanwhile, shoko shifted in front of you, her bare thighs brushing against your waist as she straddled you, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance.

“don’t forget about me,” she teased, voice low, but there was heat in her eyes as she grabbed your wrist, guiding your fingers between her legs.

her slick heat coated your fingers immediately as they slipped inside, making her moan softly against your ear, hips rolling to meet your touch.

“you feel that?” she whispered, her forehead pressed to yours, panting softly. “been wanting you to touch me like this all night.”

your palm pressed deeper, thumb brushing over her swollen clit, and she gasped, biting down gently on your bottom lip as her hips bucked forward.

but shoko wasn’t one to let you do all the work.

her other hand drifted between your legs, her fingers brushing over your overstimulated core, dragging through the mess geto left behind.

“so messy,” she murmured, her tone soft and teasing, but there was nothing gentle about the way she slipped two fingers inside you, pressing into the heat that still fluttered around nothing.

you whimpered, arching into her hand as your own pace on gojo faltered, your grip tightening around his cock.

“shit—” gojo hissed, his breath stuttering as your fist squeezed him just right, his hips jerking up into your touch.

“i’ve got her,” shoko murmured to gojo, her lips grazing your ear as she thrust her fingers deeper, her pace slow but deliberate. “she’s so tight, aren’t you, baby?”

you couldn’t form words, only broken moans slipping past your parted lips, drool glistening as it trailed down your chin, your jaw slack beneath the intensity of it all. shoko’s fingers curled deep inside you, pressing against that spot that made your thighs tremble violently, your entire body arching into her touch.

her thumb circled your clit in slow, deliberate motions—not too much, but just enough to have you writhing beneath her, the friction driving you higher with every slow roll of her hips against yours.

“look at you,” geto murmured, dark eyes fixed on the way you twisted between them, shoko’s hand buried up to her knuckles inside you.

without a word, he leaned in, catching the trail of drool with his lips, kissing gently along your jaw before letting his tongue brush over the corner of your mouth, warm and unhurried.

“you’re taking her so well,” he said softly, his breath fanning over your lips before pressing a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, his palm cupping your cheek tenderly.

shoko’s teeth scraped over your neck, biting gently before soothing the mark with her tongue, her fingers never faltering.

“i know you can give me one more,” she coaxed, her voice soft but firm, curling her fingers until you nearly sobbed into her shoulder. “come on, baby, let me feel you.”

your hips rocked into her hand on instinct, chasing the pressure as pleasure coiled tighter inside you, her fingers coaxing you toward the edge.

“she’s close,” gojo groaned, his cock twitching in your palm as his eyes dragged over your body, flushed and trembling beneath shoko’s touch.

his hand slid over yours, guiding your strokes as his breath stuttered, his hips jerking forward to chase your fist.

“let go for us,” shoko whispered, her tongue tracing the curve of your ear, and with one last slow curl of her fingers, the tension inside you snapped.

your body trembled violently, thighs clenching around her hand as your orgasm surged through you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

shoko kept going, fucking you through the aftershocks, her fingers stroking deeper to draw out every last shiver until you were limp against her chest.

“fuck,” gojo hissed through gritted teeth, his grip on your hand tightening as he spilled hot and thick against your fingers, painting your skin with a satisfied groan.

for a moment, the room was quiet, the only sounds the soft crackling of the fire and the heavy weight of your breathing.

you lay there, muscles lax and trembling, shoko’s fingers still lazily circling your clit as she pressed soft kisses against your shoulder, grounding you in the afterglow.

“you were perfect,” she murmured against your lips, smiling softly as she finally slipped her fingers free, slick and glistening with your release.

geto brushed his thumb along your jaw, tilting your face toward him as he kissed you, slow and deliberate, his touch warm and steady.

“happy new year,” shoko whispered, her forehead resting gently against yours, and you couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out between heavy breaths.

“happy new year,” you echoed softly, sinking further into the warmth of their bodies against yours.

an. HAPPY NEW YEAR BELOVEDS 😼😽😸! what are some new years goals y’all have? one of mine is to grow my tumblr following n get better at posting more 🤞🏽

[specialgradefckr]

here, kitty, kitty!

tw: dubcon/noncon, hybrid au, reader is literally a pet, loss of bodily autonomy, examination kink, slight medical play, genital piercings, possession

So, Satoru wants to get a cat hybrid.

Suguru supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Satoru's never hidden his porn history or anything. He's constantly suggesting they find a third, while instantly rejecting all suggestions.

A diva like him couldn't have sex with just anyone. And for Suguru himself, well, he preferred to have a certain level of... control in a relationship.

Which suited Satoru fine, most of the time, and Suguru was willing to concede on the rare occasion.

But Suguru doesn't have cat ears, a tail, and a pussy, and he can even admit that he misses the fairer sex sometimes, too.

They've been together so long, know each other so well. Familiarity breeding boredom, maybe. They're happy together, but Satoru wants more.

He's also incredibly needy, exactly the type of child who would beg mommy and daddy for a pet kitty.

That's also the type of child cats tend to despise. But no matter how many times he tries to explain it - "It's not that simple, Satoru" "A pet is a serious commitment, you know" - Satoru, much like a whining child, just doesn't listen.

And, well, Suguru is getting tired of telling him.

So that's how they end up here - with you.

A beautiful thing. All curled up in the corner of your stall - cage, really. Your ears twitch at the noise, and you look up, wide-eyed and anxious in a way that tugs his heartstrings.

It's truly a pity that you're at a place like this.

The interior is well-decorated, clean, with lush carpets and furnishings. The interior of your cage has a soft-looking blanket bunched up in it, and plush bedding in the back.

But there's no mistaking its purpose. In the background, there are moans, whimpers, and the occasional sob.

Throughout the wide room, a few pets were being taken out, paraded for potential owners. Poked and prodded and played with.

You, like all the others, are completely naked.

These hybrids are for sex.

Suguru had almost wanted to leave right away, but Satoru had been so excited, dragging him in by the hand. "Just look! We only have to look!"

After the assistant, a tall, well-dressed blonde man, guides them to the cat section, he's starting to think this isn't Satoru's first time here.

And that's when they'd found you, the sorry thing that you are.

Something trickles down his spine at the thought that you'll be seen by others, sold off, used for sex at your owner's discretion.

"Ooooh, I love this one!" Satoru sounds excited. "Can we take a closer look?"

Nodding, the assistant unlatches your cage. You look out, carefully, with big wide eyes, and the assistant waves you out, but you don't move.

He goes in with a leather lead, latching it to your collar, tugging until you finally crawl out, ears tilted back as your tail curls around your body.

Suguru accepts the lead in one hand as the man steps out for a moment.

The assistant reappears pushing a cart of what looks like medical instruments. Tongue depressors, stethoscopes... lubricant.

"All our pets are virgins. You aren't permitted to have sex but you're free to examine them however you like."

Suguru stands there, silent and shocked while Satoru gleefully agrees.

With a tap of his hand to your back, the assistant guides you to lean forwards, chest pressed against the floor, ass up, right in the middle of the shop in front of them.

Your tail sways gently, curling around Satoru's hand when he grasps at it, delighted, running his hand through it and down the length of your body.

"She soooo cute! Look at her pretty tail. And that ass." He whistles, smacking you on the flank.

Suguru watches your whole body flinch at the contact, but you stiffen up, staying in position. He feels a weird, light flip in his belly. This sort of thing was crazy to begin with... but wouldn't it be better to adopt you than leave you here?

He can't even see your face, meet your eyes. Something inside him screams to comfort you; gather your smaller figure up tightly in his arms and squeeze.

"It'll be all right," Suguru finds himself saying, effortlessly smooth as he approaches you. Gently petting the side of your head, watching the ear on that side tilt to accommodate him. Cute.

Well. He supposes he's a cat person, too.

Satoru is still cooing and groping over your admittedly fine body. Suguru can't help but notice how you stiffen under Satoru's wandering touch, but lean into his gentle pets.

He kneels by your head so he can scratch behind your ear, catching the side of your pretty face.

You reward his efforts with a slight, barely noticeable purr - one that goes away when you gasp, face flushing.

That'd be Satoru.

"See, look at her getting wet already! I bet she looks real good taking dick." Satoru says with a giggle as he reaches your pussy, giving your clit a little rub and teasing your entrance.

The employee, straight-faced, gestures towards the instruments beside him.

"As I said, our pets are kept as virgins until they're sold, so you can't have sex with them. But any other form of examination is permitted, including penetrative ones."

Satoru gives him that terrible, impish grin. "C'mon Suguru. We should check she's in good health before we get her."

"Who said we're getting her?" Suguru shoots back, stroking tenderly over your head, down your back, in soothing motions.

There's a sparkle in Satoru's eyes; he knows Suguru isn't willing to leave this shelter without you.

Those terrible, wicked, beautiful eyes glance over the instruments, mouth splitting into a grin as he fixes his gaze on one of them.

Pulling out the speculum, Satoru slinks towards your backside. Tracing lines over your folds, fondling your clit with purpose.

"See! Soooo wet," He coos, positioning the speculum at your entrance.

Suguru pulls away from you to sit next to Satoru, "Be careful. That's not a toy."

"I know, I know!"

Satoru's tone isn't exactly reassuring to you. Still, you can't do anything but hold yourself up, your ass and cunt bare and exposed to them as the cool metal slides in.

Just the feeling of it spreading you open has you whimpering, tail curling around your thigh.

Suguru's hand comes to rest at the base of your tail, near your back, petting down it in a gliding motion.

"There's a good girl, hm," His voice has a heady satisfaction to it, fingers curling around your tail, "Just hold still for us, don't be afraid. We won't hurt you."

You can't help your reaction, keening under his soothing, affectionate tone. A little whine escapes you as the cool metal slides deeper in, and Suguru makes an effort to reach down and pet your head again.

"Yeah!" Satoru chirps. "See, it's not so bad!"

Somehow, this, too, fails to reassure you. However, one of his hands sneaks around to rub over your clit, until you're dripping, clenching around the metal instrument.

"Good kitty," Suguru murmurs, and you find a shameful, low rumble building in your belly.

Satoru notices, though, "She likes it!" - to your horror, he slides the speculum all the way in, and starts spreading it - you - wide open.

"Here, Suguru, don't you want a look?" Satoru says, spreading you one-handed. His other hand rubs just close enough to your clit to keep the arousal lit.

"Hm..." Suguru hums.

But Satoru knows him - knows that this is as close to a yes as he can bring himself to admit to an idea he hadn't suggested himself.

You're so cute, too, he can't help but stroke your pretty little folds, all soft and wet for him. Even as he gapes your cunt wide, it's drooling all over his fingers. You're a natural. So perfect~

"Just look!" Excitement shoots through his chest, "You can see inside... that's her cervix, right?"

He does see it, they both do, that tender, reddened roundness at the end of your pretty little passageway. Walls straining against the speculum, a tight little hole winking at them at the very end.

Like a prize. Like an invitation.

It stirs a terrible, primal heat in Suguru's loins. Seeing so deep inside you. So far. You've almost certainly never even seen this part of yourself... it's only for him. For him and Satoru.

For them to see right now. And later, feel it kissing their dicks, hot and wet as you get filled up with their cum...

"God," Satoru says out loud, "I just want to take her here and now, you know? This cute cunt would look so nice all swollen and dripping with cum, yeah? Right, Su-gu-ru~?"

It's so painfully obvious by now; Satoru had already scouted you in this shelter. He'd picked you out on purpose.

Somehow, he's not even upset. But he can't just say that. Even if he's already itching to have you home, with his name on your collar and your leash in his hands, to play with...

"She looks... healthy." Suguru says, glancing at the employee.

The assistant nods shortly. "As you can see, she has a very strong pelvic floor, and she's in prime breeding condition. Our pets are kept in perfect health." 

A pause. "Is she in fit to go home today?" Suguru asks, ignoring how Satoru nearly cheers at the statement.

"All of our pets are. If they weren't completely healthy, they wouldn't be on display. We take their care very seriously here."

Suguru nods again, and the assistant leaves to retrieve the final adoption papers.

Satoru pulls the speculum out, and Suguru takes a moment to press his body into your thigh, supporting you, petting over you.

"You were so good for us," He cooes, "Don't be scared. There's a good girl," Suguru hums as your tail slides against him, "You're coming home with us, now. Aren't you excited?"

There's a terrible relief that pours through you at the words good girl, at the gentleness with which those large hands guide you to a much more comfortable position, sitting at his feet.

You press yourself against his lower legs, looking up at him shyly, feeling a purr glow through your chest as Suguru smiles down at you.

He's so nice. The other man is lecherous, a bit scary, but it'll be okay as long as this nice man is here, right?

It seems almost finished, as the employee returns - but the white-haired man, the extra pretty one, raises a brow at an option on the paperwork.

"Clit piercings?" Satoru's voice seems extra excited, "Is that an option? Instead of the microchip?"

Piercing? You stiffen at the word. To say you didn't like pain would be a dramatic understatement. Just the thought of some needle near your flesh, a hole that won't heal...

Suguru's hand comes down onto your head, running through your hair, brushing all the thoughts away as you lean into his touch.

It's hard not to crave the warmth, the gentleness. You're only a hybrid, after all, bred for companionship and affection.

The employee pauses for a moment sighing, "It's not an option for all pets. It's a clitoral hood piercing, which can house a micro-sized, state of the art gps tracker. The issue is, it requires some delicate handling. You would have to keep her still, and ideally, keep her clit hard, so it's easier to avoid."

Satoru pulls you up into his arms, like you're no lighter than a switch - you yelp, but he just laughs.

He sits back onto a chair, holding you in his lap and spreading your legs. With one hand, larger than your whole pussy, he spreads your lips open, revealing your cunt.

Your feverish eyes look for Suguru, who approaches from the side, squirming in Satrou's lap anxiously.

Those dark eyes run over you, and for once, the look on the handsome, dark-haired man's face makes you shiver.

"That should be easy. You've been playing around it all this time, haven't you, Satoru?" Suguru's tone is half-accusatory, but Satoru only laughs.

It's easy for you to follow the line of his sight to between your legs, right at the crest of your clit, where Satoru's long, clever fingers stroke heavy circles around it.

"Just hold her like that" The assistant states, pulling out a piercing gun, "This will only take a moment."

"Look at her cute little clit!" Satoru snickers, "Gonna look so pretty with the piercing over it. Plus, if she ever gets lost, we'll find her right away!"

You can feel his body better now, pressed up as you are against him. His chest is solid, muscled, and he's wiry but lean behind you as he holds you easily in his grip, locking his legs inside yours.

Your ears tuck down as you squirm nervously, but Satoru's grip holds you tightly in place. The tip of your tail swishes as it winds against Satrou's leg as it presses into yours.

Suguru sits down next to you, one arm wrapping around your back and up over your chest. He presses his cheek to your poor quivering ear, nuzzling into it.

"Mmmh, don't be scared," He hums lowly, a noise like involuntarily relaxes you, "It'll be over quick."

His voice changes, deepening, hardening, and it's like it's coming from someone else entirely when he says - "Satoru. Keep her on the edge, make her cum when it goes in."

A whine escapes you. Goes in? You don't want this.

The assistant's gloved hands nears you as he gets on his knees, sharp eyes darting at your exposed sex, pulling the strange, unfamiliar tool right up to your most vulnerable place.

You whimper, and Suguru kisses your ear, folding it against your head, "Shhh, shhh. Don't be scared. You feel good now, doesn't it?" He says in a voice like honey.

Satoru's fingers dance over your folds. The strokes get shorter and shorter, the bud of your clit swelling up with pleasure and sensitivity alike. Gut churning with arousal, dripping from you, and a rapidly growing anxiety.

"I don't," You say, but your head is already spinning, "I don't, don't, wanna, I don't wanna, please..."

Leaning forward, Suguru tucks some hair behind his ear, showing you his own gauge piercings.

"I have one too, see?" He hums, "Yours will be much smaller, just a little one. It'll barely hurt."

You stare in confusion, tearing up as your own ears flick nervously. He has one too? But this is between your legs!

"No, no no no, please no," You plead with him, "I don't want it, please-"

"Shhhh." Suguru's hand darts up to your mouth, fingers pressing down on your tongue, "Yes you do. You'll love it so much once you have it, don't worry."

He feels silly for trying to explain. That won't calm you down now.

It makes sense that you can't understand. You're just a sweet little kitty, as much as you look like a human, and this is all just scary and uncomfortable for you.

You're a cat hybrid, a domesticated creature. Pets don't have to think about what's best for themselves; their owners do that for them.

He feels your rough tongue squirming against his fingers, drool pooling around them.

It makes him lick his own lips. His pants are tight. He wouldn't be surprised if Satoru hadn't already -

"Hnngh... yeah, kitty, you'll love it," Satoru pants, grinding up against your ass, making you whimper even more.

Suguru lays another heavy kiss on your ear, "Shh, shh. Hold still, kitty, you can do that, can't you?"

In the midst of all the pleasure, the quickening strokes that have your core clenching in anticipation. The fingers in your mouth, the iron grip on your hips, your legs, holding you in place, the bodies against you; Suguru's soft voice is your anchor in a sea of overstimulation.

But all you can do is warble, fangs teething against his skin, just barely not breaking through. You tremble at the effort, gnawing at his knuckles, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

"You're so sweet," He croons, "So good for me. There's a good kitty."

His fingertip draws down along your tongue, triggering your reflexes to suckle at it.

"There you go, nice and ready," Suguru coos, stroking your head, "Keep her close, Satoru."

With one large hand on your hip, holding you steady, Satoru starts rubbing your clit in sharper, fierce circles, coaxing it to stiffen and peek out further.

The assistant tugs back the delicate skin over your clit, all dripping and swollen. He gives it a quick wipe as he pulls the piercing gun in, making you panic even further.

Suguru pets and kisses as you, squeezing at the tension in your shoulder and your neck, while Satoru rubs just beneath your clit, in hard presses that send pleasure shooting through you.

"Feels good, right?" Satoru pants in your other ear, pinning your hips tightly against him and his throbbing erection, "I'm gonna make you feel even better real soon, kitty."

You sniffle helplessly in his lap, clit throbbing as his fingers work your sensitive nub. It sends you closer and closer to release, a tightening coil of anxiety and pleasure curling in your core.

"Hold still," Suguru murmurs softly, "Be good."

And you try; you try to be good and hold still for Suguru, who pets you and strokes you and says nice things to you. But it's so hard. Every fiber of your being wants to flinch away, and the constant stimulation against your clit is nearly blinding, burning hot arousal searing through you.

You're half-trembling with terror. Heart racing as you stare at the piercing gun sliding into place over your wet, exposed cunt.

"You're being so brave," Suguru whispers, "Such a brave little kitty. Just a little longer."

With a final click, the employee pierces you, sending a sharp jolt of pain through you. You shriek at the sensation, and would have jumped if it weren't for Satoru's iron grasp around you.

But Satoru keeps rubbing, your sensitive bud throbbing with both the effects of his touch, and the pain of the piercing now settled in place just over your clit.

It's all too much, the swell of pleasure building in your core until the pain only adds to the intensity. The dam bursts forth, and you choke on Suguru's fingers as you tense up, breathless, all discomfort melting away in the airy bliss of your climax.

"See," Satoru purrs, arms moving to wrap around your chest and hold you close, "Told you I'd make you feel good."

"That wasn't so bad, was it, kitty?" Suguru lays a kiss against your heated cheek, pulling his saliva-slick fingers out of your mouth so you can pant in the aftermath of your release.

"Look, Suguru~!" Satoru grins, cheeks red, as he taps at your new piercing, "It's so cute!"

Suguru straight up smacks his hand away, muttering some admonishment you don't catch; dimly, you register a wetness against your ass, at the front of his pants.

Panting, sweat-soaked, you slump forward as soon as Satoru's grip on you loosens - but it only tightens right up again, drawing a confused mewl from you as Satoru tugs you up to carry in his arms.

There's more kisses to your head, your ears, your burning hot cheeks. A buzz between your legs so sharp you can't even tell if it hurts or feels good, so you settle for whining whenever you're jostled.

"Be careful with her, Satoru."

"I am, I am - aren't you gonna do the paperwork? I think she needs a little aftercare."

You slump helplessly against Satoru's chest, ears flicking to pick up conversations you're too tired to pay attention to. Tail swaying underneath you, slung over one of Satoru's arms.

"Don't start monopolizing her already. We can do that together once we get home."

"I'm the one who wanted her in the first place!" Satoru whines.

Suguru rolls his eyes, "So you admit you went here without me and picked her out first?"

"But you like her, though," Satoru says, giggling, shifting you carefully in his arms to better support your head.

He looks down at you, curled up in his arms, with a satisfied smile, as the paperwork is signed and they're about to leave.

Aren't you just the cutest little kitty he ever did see?

He just knew Suguru would love you. He's playing it cool, but Satoru knows he can't wait to get you home to dote on you, set up rules and routines. He's probably salivating at the thought.

A pet just for them. Docile and sensitive and fuckable, a loving companion to come home to every day, a toy for them to use together or apart.

Satoru tucks your head against the crook of his neck.

He can't wait to break you in.

[sunmoonjune]

raspberry leaves

pairing: poly!geto suguru x fem!reader x gojo satoru [jjk au]

warnings: jjk au! geto doesn't defect and everything is happy :)) cursing, periods, severe cramps, painkillers and mentions of taking more than you're supposed to (three instead of two), lots of talk of pain, mentions of vomiting, passing out, panic, mentions of death, mentions of burning yourself, probably ooc megumi but he's a kid here (probably gojo too but I can't not write him soft), family au!, megumi tsumiki and the twins are here!, probably taking liberties on how gojo's technique works but oops, this is for the girlies with severe period symptoms :'), major hurt/comfort

word count: 12.5k

a/n: drops this and yells "scatter!" and disappears back into seclusion. I did not proofread this :)

Gojo Satoru has never woken up so terrified in his life. 

It’s a horrifying thing; to wake up lurching from your sheets as the love of your life cries out in panic just a few hours past midnight. For a moment, Satoru thinks he’s dying – or that he should be – because as he rips his sheets away from his legs, racing to his feet with his pulse already roaring in his eardrums, he turns to find Geto Suguru crumbling to his knees. The dark-haired man is the one who shouted, his hands fumbling to grasp another figure, their body limp and hanging useless in Suguru’s arms.

It’s your frame, clutched tight in Suguru’s big hands, that steals the breath from Satoru’s lungs. Ripping any semblance of oxygen right from his chest, the Six Eyes user is left stumbling on his feet to reach his spouses as they crumble to the floor – you limp in Suguru’s grip as you fall unconscious. 

Suguru shouts, a desperate cry of your name as he finally sinks to the bathroom floor, urgently scrambling to cradle your weight against him and support your figure. When he’s settled on the ground, a hand carefully cradling your face, Suguru looks up at Satoru, panic in his features and his heart in his throat. For a tense second, neither man speaks, too terrified to properly ascertain the situation. Then, Satoru chokes out a desperate question as he stumbles into the doorframe, clutching the wood until he swears it could splinter beneath his hands. 

“What happened?” 

But let’s rewind a moment, shall we? 

It starts two hours after midnight – well, it starts long before that, but it’s that moment you finally decide to pull yourself from the sheets and stumble into the bathroom. That moment, the one of shortened breaths and a weak whimper, is the one to incite the inferno that will wake Gojo Satoru in an hour or so. 

You’ve been awake for hours. Sleep was a stubborn thing; an obstinate, pig-headed bastard that wouldn’t allow you the mercy of relief even hours after you’ve been awake clutching your stomach and trying desperately not to cry. 

It’s agony. Beginning in your left side and rippling through the entirety of your stomach and down your legs, the cramping sensation seizes you with another tight fist and squeezes. It’s agony, and it’s been keeping you awake for hours. 

Your period is merciless. 

You’ve always had terrible cramps. That was a notion you had grown used to when you were young. Painkillers could only do so much, and you hated to have to take as many as you did just to function near normally. The first day of shark week was always terrible, but this? This was pure agony, and you were nearing your breaking point. 

It festered for hours in your stomach, sending cramps through your form in catastrophic waves and pushing against your belly until you thought you were truly going to die. The urge to use the restroom is horrible, but each time you drag yourself to the ensuite bathroom, you sit there as another wave of agony nearly pulls you to your knees. You’re sweaty and tired, figure quivering as another rippling cramp seizes your legs, and you’ve never wanted anything more than the sweet relief of slumber. 

Nothing seems to help. 

A hot water bottle is pressed against your stomach, the liquid inside near boiling as you clutch it against your bare skin – a bad idea, you know, but the sensation of the burn is nowhere near as terrible as the cramps. You’ve downed three painkillers a few hours ago, probably another bad idea, but you’re desperate now. 

You don’t want to wake Suguru or Satoru. It’s a Sunday night, and you know they both have work early tomorrow morning. They have to get the kids to school too. The four of your children always pile into one of your husband’s nice cars just a few hours past dawn. The kids get dropped off at primary school on their way to work, since it’s just around the corner from Jujutsu High. 

You can’t tear their few precious hours of sleep away from them. 

Not for this. 

There’s nothing they can do – nothing you can do but sit and try to ride out the waves of crippling agony until they finally stop. 

You’ve done this before. These cramps aren’t new. You can deal with them on your own. 

Can’t you?

But as you repress a broken sob, pulling yourself away from the silk of your sheets and into the bathroom once more, you’re not quite sure. 

When you reach the ensuite bathroom, another cramp surges through you and the tears you’ve been desperately withholding finally burst forth. Pressing your weight into the wall as the door slides shut, you click the lock and finally allow yourself to crumple. Your head pushes into your knees as you sob, trying to keep your cries quiet and muffled against your hand as the other clutches the hot water bottle against the throb of your stomach. 

You’re tired. You’re tired and you’re in so much pain that your fingers tremble and your legs shake. It’s awful, and you just want to sleep. 

But your uterus must hate you, because your stomach lurches and you scramble to lean over the toilet as you dry heave. You’ve never vomited on your period, but it sure does feel like you will. 

Your skin itches. From the sweat or the general grime, you don’t know, but you hate it. Your chest shakes with another sob and your fists squeeze tight as you whine out a horrible sound of agony. It’s too much and you wish it would just stop. Leaning back against the wall, you sigh out a choked sound as you curl into yourself. 

“Stop,” you whine brokenly, too defeated to even understand who you’re pleading to. “Please stop.” 

Geto Suguru wakes up a few moments later. 

He doesn’t know what pulls him from slumber at first. His brow furrows as consciousness returns, a deep breath leaving his nose as he sighs and takes in the feeling of body weight pressed into his chest. It’s a muscular figure, long and tall, so it must be Satoru. He’s pressed into Suguru’s stomach, body curled small in a near comical way as he attempts to tuck himself beneath Suguru’s chin. The long-haired man nearly huffs a chuckle as he pries open his tired eyes to see his partner. 

Suguru runs a loving hand over the mess of pale white strands that fall into Satoru’s eyes, his lips quirking upwards softly as he smiles. Satoru nuzzles closer in his sleep, letting out a happy sigh as Suguru runs his nails through the other’s undercut. Then Suguru shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly to find you as his hand reaches out to pull you closer.

But you’re not there. 

Suguru startles. Jolting silently as his heart skips a frightened beat, the sorcerer’s eyes rip open as they dilate. His hand finds an empty bed, the sheets cold and the imprint of your figure long lost. Suguru carefully untangles himself from his lover’s long limbs, his long, dark hair falling into his eyes as he sits upright. 

“Baby?” his deep, tired voice rumbles in question. Where are you? He nearly asks, heart pounding in his chest. Are the kids okay? 

Suguru knew it was weird you had chosen to sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. You’re usually more than happy to bury yourself in between them, cuddling close and nuzzling into their chests as you try to pull yourself even tighter into their embrace. 

But last night, you gently pushed Suguru into your place, offering him a wave of your hand and a lame excuse as to why you wanted to sleep on the outside. Something about not wanting to sleep yet, he remembers. 

He waits a moment, hoping you’ve just gotten up to use the restroom and you’ll return to them soon. The sound of Satoru’s quiet breaths echo through the space, and has to fill the long seconds by tracing his fingers over his lover’s back. Tracing gentle lines over the defined muscles, Suguru sighs softly and tries to calm his racing pulse. 

A minute passes. Then another. And one more – until Suguru isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting. 

Then Suguru cannot resist the swell of panic that ripples through his stomach. 

His heart lurches in his chest as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, too panicked to offer Satoru more than a hushed sound and a stroke over his back when he tiredly mumbles in protest. 

“‘M just gettin’ up for a sec,’” he mumbles quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees the light in the bathroom on. “I’ll be back, love.” 

Satoru grumbles something else, but is soothed when Suguru presses a gentle kiss to his brow. 

“M’kay,” Satoru sighs, easily falling back asleep as he snuggles into the warmth Suguru left behind on the bed. If he wasn’t so worried, Suguru would smile, his heart clenching tight in his chest as he watches Satoru curl into his spot with a soft sound. 

When Suguru stands, adjusting his sweats as he quietly makes his way to the bathroom, he pulls his hair from his eyes. Brushing the strands over his bare shoulder, he sighs as he fiddles for a hair tie in his pocket. He doesn't find one, so he simply pushes the dark strands back from his brow, letting them fall behind him and settle against his bare back. 

You’ve always liked it when his hair is loose anyway. 

Suguru knocks on the bathroom door first. It’s quiet, but you should be able to hear it. When you don’t respond, Suguru frowns and tries again. Knocking gently once more, he swallows as another wave of panic curls in his stomach. 

“Sweetheart?” he tries quietly, voice still rumbling deeply from the slumber he was pulled from. “You’ve been in there a while, honey. Are you alright?” 

Still, you don’t respond. 

You want to. Of course you want to. It’s Suguru, and you don’t want to worry him. 

But the waves of agonizing cramps have stolen your voice. All you can do is sit still and breathe. You feel utterly useless. There’s nothing you can do but control the slow pace of your breaths in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the crippling sensation radiating from your stomach. 

You want to respond – tell him you’re alright, tell him something, but the agony seals your lips shut. It’s horrible and another wave of tears spill from your tired eyes. You hate it. You wish you would stop crying; it’s not helping and it only makes you feel weak. 

“Baby? I’m gettin’ worried.” 

All you can manage is a sad, weak sound in response. It leaves your lips in more a sob than a hum, and you muffle the tears that shiver through you after. 

“Honey!” Suguru murmurs worriedly, trying to twist the handle of the door, only to curse when he discovers it’s locked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

He shifts on his feet, lifting a hand to pull on the strands on his hair to soothe some of his panic. The sound you manage in response is another broken hum, and it only worsens the thundering pulse of Suguru’s heart. His gut twists as he tries the knob again, as if a few seconds will have changed the status of the lock. 

You whine and Suguru swears his heart cracks. His head presses against the door as his eyes squeeze shut, fist still closed around the handle. 

“Can you open the door f’me, sweetheart?” he murmurs desperately. “‘M really worried about you.” 

Your eyes close, the watery burn rendering them useless as you sniffle. You huff around another breath of pain, pushing your head further into your knees. Trembling softly as your skin flushes, you battle against the waves of agony and the flash of heat that makes you feel sickly. Another wave of nausea ripples in your gut, and you remember how awful you must look. 

Your hair is plastered against your head and your neck and you must look a mess. Wearing a pair of oversized sweats and one of Suguru’s shirts, you feel utterly gross. More than anything you want to open the door and let Suguru take you in his arms. Cuddling into his firm chest and feeling his big arms wrap around you would probably feel nice, but you’re all too aware of how sickly you must look. 

You don’t want him to see you like this: sweaty, messy and sick as you curl in on yourself as you weep through another terrible cramp. You just want to sleep – you want it to stop, everything needs to stop. 

Suguru hums out another question, but you don’t really hear it. It’s not until you hear the lilt of panic in his voice and his voice fiddling with the handle of the door do you manage to find your voice. 

“Sugu…” 

He startles. Head darting up to the door in front of him, Suguru breathes a sigh of relief and chokes out your name. 

“Open the door, darling,” he whispers softly. “Please…” 

You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it. Frowning as you sniffle, you lick your lips to taste salt and the disgusting hint of snot. You’re a mess, and you don’t want him to see you. 

“No, Sugu,” you manage to mutter, head knocking back to rest against the wall as you continue to focus on breathing through your mouth. You visibly shiver through another cramp, this time seizing and whining as it echoes through your legs. 

Suguru bites down on his lip, feeling another sliver of his heart crack at the broken sound of your voice. It pains him, your defeated sigh. He desperately wants to comfort you, to bring you into his chest and kiss your tears away. His hands ache to touch your skin, to feel the warmth he knows by heart. Closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against the wood of the door, Suguru sighs and swallows as he speaks again. 

“Why not?” he murmurs worriedly, voice clipping words from fatigue pulling at his figure. “I need t’know you’re alright, my love.” 

“Don’t wan’ you t’see me.”

Suguru’s head tilts and the lump in his throat swells. Heart clenching sadly, one of his hands lifts to rest on the door, as if he can reach you on the other side if he tries hard enough. He knows he can get through this door if he really wanted. It would be too easy for him to splinter the frame with his strength alone, and he has more than one curse at his disposal that could pick a lock smoothly. 

It’s the sound of your voice that holds him back. 

You’re so… tired. You’re broken whisper echoes through the wooden door with a sad coo, and it makes Suguru’s chest ache. 

“My sweet girl…” Suguru whispers, fingers trailing across the wood like they’re desperate to stroke across your cheek. “Why don’t you want me to see you?” 

You frustratedly sigh, cursing the tears that continue to track down your cheeks. No matter what you do, they keep dripping over your skin in tiny rivulets, staining your face with tracks of dried salt. You wipe them away but they’re quickly replaced by another stream. 

You just want to sleep. 

“I don’t feel good, Sugu,” you sigh tiredly, voice quivering around tears. It’s pathetic – how watery you sound. You wish you were stronger. “I look bad and I don’t want wan’ t’keep you an’ Toru awake.” 

You don’t feel good? He nearly questions. Why didn’t you wake me? 

But all he does is sigh softly, fists clenching against the door. For a moment he contemplates waking Satoru, knowing you probably won’t be able to resist them both. Though, when he turns over his shoulder, Suguru sees the bags beneath his lover’s eyes and the tired slump of his form in their sheets. 

Satoru needs his sleep. It’s difficult enough for him to find slumber when the Six Eyes strains him dry. 

Suguru lets him rest. 

He murmurs your name again, his eyes closing as he continues to rest against the door. 

“I’m in love with you, you know?” Suguru sighs sweetly, his lips lifting slightly to reveal a fond smile. “You could never ‘look bad’ to me, my darling.” 

Shifting on his feet and looking up at the ceiling, his shoulders sag as he worries. What if you don’t open the door? He’s considering settling on the floor with his back against the door when he whispers again. 

“And you don’t need t’worry about keepin’ me awake, alright? I want you t’come to me when you’re not feeling good.” 

He pauses once, dropping his hand from the knob as he breathes. 

“I worry about you, honey,” he finishes. “I just need to know you’re okay.” 

You sniffle, feeling the cramp finally seep away to nothing. They’re not over, you can feel another wave rising from beneath the last, but at least they offer you a single moment to reach up and twist the lock. 

It’s too much for you to handle alone. 

You want to bury yourself in Suguru’s strong arms and weep as the pain shivers through you. If there’s nothing you can do to soothe the agony, then at least you won’t be alone. 

“Okay.”

Suguru hears the lock click. 

Gasping softly, he pulls himself upright and reaches down to grip the handle of the door with a skip of his heart. He was pondering waiting outside the door in the fading light of the moon when you whispered the tired word. His chest aches when he twists the knob, pulling the door open to reveal your figure.

You’re curled on the floor, calves crossed and legs pulled into your chest as you bury your head into your knees. Your arms wrap around yourself, one hand clutching the hot water bottle pressed tightly to your stomach. 

Suguru frowns, his heart thumping sadly as you weep out another broken sound. His entire body aches in a way he cannot describe, physically pained at the choked sounds of agony leaving your lips. He’s already on his knees at your side when you lift your head, looking up at him through your tears and your lip quivering in a way he knows you cannot control. 

He’s never seen you look so hurt. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he coos quietly, putting the pieces together as you shiver through another wave of crippling cramps, hand squeezing tight around your leg – your period. “You’re not alright.” 

“No,” you weep, shaking your head with watery eyes leaking salty droplets down your cheeks, and you suck in a shaking breath as your fists clench. Your brow furrows as your eyelids squeeze shut, unable to mask the pain as it ripples through you. Suguru’s face softens into an expression of pain, frowning sadly. You have a high pain tolerance for your period cramps – he knows that. You’ve had painful periods your whole life, and he and Satoru have seen you conceal the agony in your features for years. 

This is a knife to his heart. 

You can’t conceal the sweat on your brow, nor the tremble of your fingers and the painful gasp of breath you suck in when the pain returns tenfold. 

“It hurts, Sugu…” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly, desperately wishing there’s something he can do to stall the agony. “C’mere, honey.”

Suguru’s mouth twists into an expression of pain, and he carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you away from the wall, the dark-haired man maneuvers you into his chest as he sits onto the floor. You twist into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his frame as you weep softly into his bare chest, caring little for the tears that stain his skin. Suguru could care less. He’s far too worried about the expression plastered onto your features and the shiver that trembles through you. 

“How long have you been up?” he whispers as he cradles you in his lap, hand stroking over your hair and strong arm wrapping around you. 

You shake your head and Suguru’s frown deepens – if it’s even possible. 

“Haven’t slept yet.” 

Suguru’s hair falls into his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss between your brows. He stays there, breathing through his noses as he continues to lay tiny kisses to your forehead. His eyes screw shut, hand stroking over your cheek as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. 

Your skin is warm, flushed with heat and your hair sticks to your forehead in a way Suguru knows must make you feel sickly. He carefully strokes the strands away and kisses the skin beneath with a soft sigh. 

“Have you been awake all night?” he finally whispers, voice deep and quietly sad. “With cramps like this?”

You nod into his chest, wincing again and closing your eyes as you sob through another agonizing cramp. Your legs shake as you tuck them into yourself together, trying desperately to push the hot water bottle deeper into your skin. 

“Oh, baby…” he sighs, leaning back to rest against the wall and pull you back into him. He strokes another hand across your face, thumbing the space between your brows when he sees the way they’re scrunched. “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

You sigh and breathe a few times to steady yourself, slowly loosening your fists when Suguru pries your fingers open to intertwine his own around yours. He pulls your hands into his chest, tucking them by his heart so you can feel the pulse of his heart. He hopes you don’t notice how quick it’s beating. He’s still worried. Suguru cannot help the way his heart lurches when you wince. As if each throb of agony is his own, Suguru buries his face closer to your own, clutching onto your hand and not faltering when you tighten your grip to counter the waves of pain echoing through you. 

“You’ve got work in the morning,” you pant quietly, voice still watery and weak. “And you an’ Toru gotta’ take the kids.” 

“Honey…” he sighs sweetly. “You’re in pain… I want you t’wake me if you’re in pain, sweetheart. No amount of sleep could soothe me if you’re hurt and alone.” 

You manage a hum in response, face still screwed shut and Suguru frowns when you muffle another sob as a cramp seizes you once more. 

“Okay, baby… Okay,” he whispers, rocking you into him a little in an attempt to distract you. Now is not the time for a lecture, he supposes.“You’re alright, darling. You’re gonna be alright.” 

He hates the sound of your tears. 

When you shudder through another agonizing sound, Suguru’s face crumples. He’s never felt so useless. You’re in agony, and he can do nothing to fix it. 

“You took your painkillers?” 

You nod again, weeping into his chest and squeezing his hand tight. 

“Three,” you mumble tiredly, focusing on the feeling of Suguru’s warm, bare chest pressed against your skin. It’s grounding and you don’t want to move. “They aren’t working.”

“How long ago?” 

He doesn't want to pester you with questions, but he’s desperately pulling at strings, hoping one will grant him the solution to your pain. 

“Midnight,” you manage. You wince again, and Suguru peppers kisses along your hairline, gently hushing you. You curl tighter into yourself, desperately huffing as the pain continues to swell higher. It feels like it will break at any moment, but it just… doesn’t. The agony continues to rise, as if there is no limit to its torment. The cramping sensation just comes back again and again, until you’re sure that there’s something wrong. How can a period be so painful? 

“It hurts so bad, Sugu,” you cry, reaching the end of your tether. You’re desperate for the ache to stop, but it feels like there’s no  point of end in sight. “I just want it to stop…” 

Suguru feels his stomach twist, heart crying out in a pattern of your name. He pulls you tighter, a wave of his own tears swelling behind his eyes. Your cries chip at his heart, pieces of his soul falling apart in your agony. He wishes he could do something – use some kind of technique to null the pain, to soothe you, anything. 

“I know, honey,” he soothes, cradling you closer and rubbing his finger over your cheek as he murmurs into your hairline. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more. I’m sorry I can’t take this from you.” 

You shake your head, clutching him tight as you attempt to focus on your breaths again. Hand wrapped tightly around his own, you try to use his touch as a grounding sensation. Eventually, the lulling motion of his finger over your cheek and his lips at your hairline soothe some of the tension beneath your skin. You relax into his touch despite the continuous waves of cramps still panging through your stomach. 

“Just stay,” you weep, lifting your other hand from your stomach to clutch behind Suguru’s head. You hold onto his neck, burying your fingers in his soft hair and desperately inhale his familiar scent. Suguru is familiar – he’s safe. “Please…”

You don’t have to worry about anything as long as Suguru and Satoru are around. 

“Always, sweetheart,” he whispers against you, dropping the hand at your cheek to press your hot water bottle into your stomach for you. “Always. You don’t have t’ask.” 

 His large hand keeps your bottle in place, spreading across your stomach and rubbing soothing circles into your waist with his thumb. His hand is big enough to settle on your stomach and the fabric of your hot water bottle. 

Suguru hates this. He hates seeing you in pain. He hates that all he can do is sit and press delicate kisses to your hairline as you writhe in agony. It physically pains him to be unable to help – to have to watch as one of the loves of his life suffers. 

Suguru buries his nose into your hair and kisses you once more, whispering sweet words of encouragement and humming in an attempt to distract you. He loves you so much, and he hopes you know that. 

“You’re doing so well, my darling.”  

Eventually, the wave passes, and you limply release your intense grip on his fingers and relax into his hold. It’s a slow process. Finally succumbing to some brief glimpse of exhaustion, you slip loosely into Suguru’s hold and trust him to catch you. There will be another cramp soon, but at least this one is over. You breathe out a sigh and look up at Suguru with tears on your lashes. 

Strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes, and Suguru has never looked more beautiful to you. Sitting on the bathroom floor with you three hours past midnight, no shirt and a loose pair of sweats on his hips (ones he’s not sure are his own), and Suguru has never looked so endearing. The way he looks down at you, bangs dangling in front of his dark eyes and full lips leaning down to kiss your face gently; he’s princely. 

Your heart finally slows to an acceptable pace as Suguru leans down, and you close your eyes as he lays a soft kiss to one of your eyelids. His full lips peck sweetly against one, then he leans away to kiss the other. Your eyes well with tears again, but this time you think they’re for a different reason. 

“Hi,” he whispers sweetly, lips lifting to show you that tiny smile of his that makes your heart do funny things. You’re too tired to offer much more than a sigh and a quirk of your lips, but Suguru is grateful for the expression all the same. 

“Hi, Sugu.” 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

You shake your head, sighing quietly as you shift.

“Not really.”

Suguru frowns again, and you’re tempted to lift your thumbs to pull his lips upwards again. Suguru looks so much prettier when he smiles. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers. “Do you wanna get off the floor, at least? The bed’s much more comfortable and Toru’s gonna start worrying soon.”

You figure now is the best time to try moving, so you nod. There’s probably only a few minutes between these waves of terrible cramps, so you’ll take the moment you have to get back into bed. 

“M’kay,” you sigh tiredly. Suguru's expression softens for a reason you don’t understand, but the sorcerer fondly smiles as he thinks of the same sound Satoru had made just minutes before. 

“Alright, love. Let’s get you up, alright?”

You nod again, allowing Suguru to unwind his limbs from yours. He softly chuckles when you whine as his fingers unlace from your own, but readjusts his grip to carefully pull you to stand. He holds his other hand out, tenderly helping you stand. 

“Careful…” he whispers. “Go slow, baby.” 

Your head spins as you stand and you lift a hand to press against your temple. The rolling tide of nausea in your stomach had quelled for the time being, but the tremble of your legs is still too apparent. You step forward shakily, reaching out to grasp Suguru’s outstretched hand with a grateful smile. He returns the look with soft eyes and nods sweetly as he allows you to step out of the bathroom first. 

When he’s certain you can stand on your own, Suguru turns over his shoulder to turn off the bathroom light and shut the door. 

But he only gets so far. 

Suddenly, you inhale sharply. Freezing in place, your body curls inwards on itself as a blinding swell of cramps overtakes your form. This one is sharp and crippling, radiating down your legs until even your calves feel weak. Your body is suddenly too hot, and the air is far too cold. Shivers trickle down your spine and you feel that all too familiar bolt of stifling panic strike through your chest. It runs through the entirety of your figure, sizzling beneath your skin and striking each nerve it passes. You feel that terrible curl of your stomach and the waves of oncoming panic filter through you.

You sway on your feet. 

Something’s wrong. And it’s making you panic. 

You open your mouth, lip quivering as you attempt to croak out a plea of Suguru’s name, but nothing comes. Some tired, broken whine leaves your lips instead – a desperate cry for help, for Suguru.

When Suguru turns around, head whipping over his shoulder sharply, he expects to see you headed towards his side of the bed. Instead, he’s met with your body swaying slightly as you pant and shiver. Suguru thinks his heart stops. 

Then your body stills, and you crumple. 

“Baby!” 

Suguru throws himself forward, just managing to grab your figure as it goes limp. He sways, shifting your weight into his arms and panicking as you continue to sink into the floor. Your body is dead weight in his hands, still shivering but cold and unmoving. 

He’s going to be sick. 

His stomach curls as bile spills onto the back of his tongue, and Suguru can hear his heart pound in his ears. The lump is back in his throat, swelling until he can barely suck in a desperate breath to calm his panicked heart. Fuck, he’s never been so scared. 

“Baby, oh fuck!” he cries, voice no longer quiet and delicate. Suguru openly shouts, desperately trying to carefully maneuver you to the floor, but his mind is screaming thousands of things at him at once. All he can hear is the roaring in his eardrums. His eyes scan over your limp figure and Suguru swears his heart cracks. He can feel it; deep within his chest, a splinter finally cleaves open. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Suguru chokes out, carefully cradling you as he sinks to his knees. “You’re alright, okay? I’ve got you, honey.”

He doesn’t know what to do. His heart is pounding and his soul is openly weeping. There are tears welling in his eyes and dragging down the pristine skin of his cheeks. 

Suguru doesn't know what to do. 

“Okay,” he whispers frightfully. “Okay…”

You’re laying on your back, facing the ceiling, and the way your blank expression stares back at him makes him nauseous. 

“Sweetheart?” he calls carefully, brushing a hand over your cheek to push hair away from your face. “Baby, c’mon…” 

You don’t respond. There’s not even a twitch in your brow or a flick of your fingers. You’re unconscious. Suguru’s heart accelerates again, pounding until he thinks it might burst from his bony rib cage. He turns over his shoulder with a broken cry, calling for the one person he so urgently needs. 

“Satoru!” 

His voice is panicked, shouted with a guttural cry and he thinks it might echo through the house, but Suguru vaguely hopes he doesn't wake the kids. 

“Satoru, wake up!”

But Satoru is already awake. 

Lurching forward in the bed, the Six Eyes user is already throwing the sheets away from his legs as he scans the room. His technique is activated, and Suguru can feel the familiar curtain of Infinity wrap around his body. 

“Suguru?” Satoru calls as he stands, his body tense and prepared to fight. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Suguru doesn’t have the chance to respond, because Satoru steps forward and his crystalline eyes find his lover’s hunched figure crouched in the doorway of the bathroom, bent over the body of their wife. You’re limp on the floor, hair sprawled out beneath you as Suguru cradles your head and glances up at his partner with desperate, fearful eyes. 

Satoru thinks he’s dying. 

It’s the only possible explanation for the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the stuttered pulse of his heart. His legs wane at his knees, nearly propelling him into the floor, but Satoru manages to keep himself upright as he throws his hands forward to brace himself on the bathroom doorway. 

“What…?” Satoru whispers breathily, voice uncharacteristically quiet – uncharacteristically weak. “What happened?” 

His Six Eyes are activated, flickering over every crevice of your form. They’re urgent, desperate to find the source of your pain. When they find nothing, Satoru swallows back a sound of desperation. 

“She passed out,” Suguru whispers plainly, panic evident in the quiver of his voice. “She started her period early, Toru. She’s in so much pain…”

Satoru feels his knees wane again. His heart can’t take much more of this. She’s in pain? His soul cries. 

“She’s been laying on the bathroom floor crying,” his lover mumbles, stroking a hand over your cheekbone as a tear drips into his mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked her t’get up – she was weak and I didn’t think –”

“Suguru.” 

The dark-haired sorcerer stops. Lifting his head to stare up at Satoru, Suguru frowns. 

“This isn’t your fault, Suguru,” Satoru whispers, trying desperately to keep himself calm. His heart is in his throat and his pulse roars, but he cannot allow himself to weaken. Suguru needs him – you need him. 

“She’s not waking up…”

Satoru sucks in a breath, his hands curling into the doorframe and gripping the wood until he thinks it will splinter beneath his grip. And it might. Satoru has to be mindful of the strength he uses. 

‘She’s not waking up.’ The phrase echoes through his head until it’s the only thing he can process. You’re not waking up. His wife isn’t waking up. 

“Is she…” Satoru doesn't even know if he can say what he wants to know – what he needs to know. The words make him ill. “Is she breathing?” 

Suguru chokes out a desperate sound. He hadn’t even considered…

And he doesn't want to. 

His hand seizes one of yours, wrapping tightly around your fingers as he pulls it into his chest as he did before. He pleads for you to wake up and feel his heart pulse against your fingers again, just as you had minutes ago. He delicately thumbs over your pulse point, hand sliding down your neck where he cradles your cheek. 

Suguru openly weeps when the thumping beat of your heart races beneath his fingers in greeting. 

“Yeah…” he sobs out weakly, pushing his forehead into your chest. “Yeah, she’s breathing.” 

Satoru sags in relief.

“Okay,” he covers his mouth with one of his palms, trying to suppress the broken sound that nearly leaves him. “Okay, that’s good.” 

Before either man can ascertain what to do, there's rustling at the doorway. It’s a quiet sound, just a soft coo and the creak of the door as it slides open. Satoru’s head whips around, his fingers twitching to activate his technique when he falters. 

Because seven year old Fushiguro Megumi stands in the doorway: his son. 

Megumi’s clutching a plush dog, one that looks remarkably familiar to his Divine Dogs. The soft, dark fur is cradled in his hands as he hugs the stuffed animal to his chest. The plush nearly conceals him entirely, and his dark, spiky hair pokes out over the red mark on the dog’s forehead. It’s a matching toy – the dark one was a gift from Suguru while the white counterpart came from Satoru. They were presents (custom-made plushies) ordered by his fathers when Megumi successfully summoned his Divine Dogs for the first time. 

Satoru still whines when Megumi prefers the dark stuffed animal to the white one. But Satoru doesn't know that Megumi snuggles the alabaster-coated dog when he’s gone on long missions. The boy barely goes anywhere without it until his father comes home. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Megumi tiredly mumbles, one of his hands lifting to rub at his eyes as he yawns. His too big shirt, one of Satoru’s shirts from their youth, hangs over his frame and covers his knees. You were the one to tuck your son into bed last night, and Satoru doesn’t have the moment to fondly think of his boy asking to wear one of his dad’s shirts to bed. 

Satoru sucks in a quiet breath, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Suguru. His husband is still on the bathroom floor, bent over your unconscious figure, but he looks up at Satoru with a silent nod. He’s alright. You’re alright. 

Satoru sighs and turns back to Megumi, suddenly glad the ensuite bathroom is hidden from the doorway to their bedroom. He doesn't want Megumi to see his mother unconscious, or his fathers’ panic. He doesn’t want Megumi to see him scared. Satoru is his father – he needs to show his son that everything is going to be alright. 

Swallowing down his tempered fear, Satoru tries to conceal the quiver of his voice when he responds to his son. 

“It’s –” Satoru stops. He can’t say ‘it’s nothing.’ Because it’s not nothing; and he won’t lie to his son. “It’s alright, Megumi.”

That’s what he decides to say instead. Satoru breathes through his nose deeply as he tries not to turn back over his shoulder to check on you again. 

“Mama’s just having some cramps, she’ll be okay.” 

Megumi nods. He knows what Satoru means, because Geto Suguru would be damned before he raised a son that thinks menstruation was ‘gross.’ Megumi doesn’t know everything – he’s still a kid, afterall. He does know, however, that his mother is plagued with terrible pain once a month, and that it’s completely natural to talk about it. 

Megumi toddles on his feet, the fatigue of the early morning hour making him uncharacteristically soft. He’s usually quite stoic for a kid, exhibiting the same, blank sort of look impassively. But no matter how quiet, you and the boys are well-adept at deciphering your kid’s feelings by now. 

With sleep tugging at his eyes, Megumi paws at his tired lids and yawns sweetly. Shifting his balance again, the boy looks up at Satoru with a tiny, sweet frown.

“Mama’s hurting?” he pouts, bottom lip sticking out slightly. His fists tighten around his stuffed dog, eyes shifting around Satoru to try to get a glimpse of you. Fortunately, Suguru has already readjusted you in his arms and you’re both hidden in the ensuite bathroom. 

“Yeah…” Satoru coughs to conceal the tremor of his voice. “Yeah, Mama’s hurting a little. But she’s strong, remember? She’ll be alright, her cramps will go away soon.” 

He doesn’t know if his words are an attempt to convince Megumi or himself. 

 From behind Satoru, Suguru strokes another thumb over your cheekbone. He inhales a shaking breath as he feels the frightful warmth of your skin. 

“C’mon…” he whispers in the tiny space that separates you. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes again.” 

Swallowing thickly, Suguru’s throat bobs as a tear begins to leak down his cheek. 

“Please.” 

He’s lost. Suguru doesn’t know what to do other than count the seconds since you’ve gone still in his arms. Each one feels longer than the last, but Suguru continues to count them. He doesn’t know why he does it. Perhaps some part of him thinks there is a certain point at which he’ll need to call for help. Is there a distinct period of time that has to pass before you need medical attention? 

Suguru curses himself for not paying enough attention to Shoko’s basic first-aid lessons. 

Satoru’s head flicks over his shoulder, crystalline-blue eyes finding your face as his heart clenches again. He’s conflicted. More than anything, he wants to drop to his knees at your side, just as Suguru has. He wants to clutch your remaining hand and feel the pulse of your heart as a reminder that you’re still there – still breathing. His heart hurts; torn between lingering at your side and comforting his son.

But then Satoru remembers the way you look at your kids. He recalls the fond crease of your eyes when you beam down at them, smiles shining and hands drawing them into you for an embrace. You love your kids more than anything, even though you’ve only had them for a few years now. Even though they’re not your biological kids, even though they’re not babies, and despite not even wanting children before them; they’re your pride and joy. 

Satoru finds the strength within him to smile fondly. He knows you would be pushing him in Megumi’s direction if you had any semblance of consciousness right now. 

Satoru tries not to frown at the reminder of your state. 

Turning on his feet, Satoru steps away from the door, even as his heart cries out for him to return to your side. The remainder of his heart calls for his son – his boy, who is beginning to worry about his mother. It’s evident in the way Megumi shifts on his feet, fiddling with the soft fur of his stuffed pup. 

When Satoru drops to his knees in front of Megumi, he spreads his arms wide in an invitation. He doesn’t expect Megumi to accept; he rarely does. Satoru is affectionate, it’s a sentiment clear as day, and Megumi usually prefers to avoid physical touch. He’s shy that way. 

So Satoru is fondly surprised when Megumi toddles tiredly on his feet as he leans into his father’s embrace. Wrapping his arms tight around his son, Satoru stands from the floor with his heart beginning to return to a normal pace. Having Megumi in his arms is a comfort that soothes some of his rampaging nerves. The knowledge that the rest of his family is safe is a notion that eases some of the tension in his shoulders. Satoru knows he won’t find sleep for the rest of the night if he doesn’t peek into the girl’s room later to ensure they’re sleeping peacefully. 

“It’s alright, Gumi,” Satoru whispers softly, stroking a hand through the spiky strands of the boy’s hair. Megumi rests his head on Satoru’s shoulder with a sigh. “Why did you wake up so early, bud?” 

Megumi wraps an arm around Satoru’s neck, the other still cradling his pup between them. He closes his eyes and sighs sleepily once more as he mumbles in response. 

“Heard Dad yell,” he tiredly whispers. He fiddles with a strand of Satoru’s white hair before he sheepishly continues. “I was scared…”

Satoru tries his hardest not to tease the boy. He knows it’s in his nature to make light of situations with humor, but Satoru also understands that this, perhaps, is not the time. Despite wanting to make Megumi feel better by laughing off the problem, Satoru also remembers the horrible strike of panic that had bolted through him when he heard Suguru yell. 

Waking up to Suguru crying out for you as you collapsed was horrifying, and Satoru can only imagine how frightening it was for Megumi. 

“Oh Gumi, I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers, rocking on his feet in an attempt to comfort the boy. Even though Megumi isn’t a baby, Satoru cannot help the instinctive sway of his feet as he runs a hand through his hair. “Dad didn’t mean to shout, pup. He was just worried about Mom.” 

Megumi nods softly, snuggling closer to Satoru’s chest in a way that makes the father’s heart ache. 

“Can I… Can I help?” Megumi quietly questions, words spoken only for his father to hear. “Mom always makes me feel better when I’m sick.” 

Megumi mumbles something else; something that sounds like ‘don’t wan’ mom t’feel bad,’ but it’s muffled into Satoru’s neck and he barely catches it. 

Satoru smiles despite the panic still roaring in his chest. The way Megumi calls you ‘mom’ and Suguru ‘dad’ has always made him a little emotional. It took more than a year for Megumi to truly grow comfortable in your makeshift family, but eventually the boy’s cautious exterior melted away into what he really was: a kid looking for a home – a family. He was abandoned for God’s sake, Satoru knows the kid was guarded when he found him. And he had every right to be. 

But in just a few short years, Megumi has begun to call Tsumiki and the twins his sisters and on rare occasions, he’ll call Satoru his father. However, he knows those nights will always end in Satoru smothering him with affections and playful teases so he refrains from doing it often. Satoru does not take offense; he knows Megumi is shy. 

“Yeah, she takes good care of us, huh?” Satoru murmurs fondly as he rubs a hand over his son’s back. 

Before Satoru can reassure Megumi further, he’s interrupted when Suguru lets out a relieved sound over his shoulder. It’s a strange sort of combination of a sob and a gasp, but Satoru hears it all the same. 

“Sweetheart…?” Satoru hears Suguru call, voice brighter but still wavering through the short syllables. 

There’s a muffled sound of shuffling, then a groan and a cough before Suguru is concealing his tears in your neck. 

Satoru exhales with relief, shoulders sagging as his eyes slide shut. He rubs a hand over Megumi’s back in the hopes the boy doesn’t see the fear slowly seeping from his father. 

Inside the bathroom, Suguru clutches your hand tight to his chest, squeezing it thankfully and burying his face in your neck as he bends over you. Blinking slowly, you huff a choked breath and shakily reach upwards to lay your palm over Suguru’s head. Tangling your fingers in the mess of loose, dark hair you sigh deeply through your mouth. It’s a relief to feel Suguru bent over you; his weight presses into your chest and grounds you as you come back to consciousness. Though you’re still dizzy and a bit panicked, the feeling is beginning to leech from your limbs like poison from a wound. 

Waking up was startling, and there’s a lingering sense of fear buzzing beneath your skin. It frightens you, and you clutch tightly onto Suguru with a tremble. The pain still twists in your stomach, but it’s nothing compared to how you felt before you passed out. 

“Suguru…” 

His name comes out in a sort of pleading cry, not unlike a frightened child, but you cannot help the way you long for his comfort. Tears leak from your eyes, another wave of salt that you find you cannot control. 

Suguru responds to your call with a sweet coo, pressing a wet kiss to the skin of your throat and rumbling deep within his chest to reassure you that he’s still there. Brushing your hair from your eyes, Suguru leans away to peck your temple and stare down at you with relief painted across his features. 

“You’re alright, honey. ‘S okay,” he whispers warmly, soothing the tension in your brow and brushing your tears away. When your eyes crack open, staring up at him with waning fear and confusion, Suguru huffs a laugh and smiles widely. “Hey, pretty girl.” 

 Your lips quiver upwards into a sort of sad smile, but Suguru is happy to see it despite the exhaustion in your features. Squeezing his hand, you look up at the dark-haired sorcerer as his hair falls into his eyes. 

“Wha’ happened?” 

Suguru looks over his shoulder, mouthing something you can’t hear, but you know he must be talking to Satoru. The muffled sound of his voice barely reaches your ears as you wade through the stream of your consciousness. You fight to keep Suguru in focus, and fortunately manage to cling to the waking world as sounds finally return to your senses. Something that sounds like “she’s alright, Toru,” rings through the bathroom, and then there’s the sound of Satoru replying but you can’t hear it. Your heart calls out for your other husband, and you squeeze Suguru’s hand in question. 

“You passed out, darling,” Suguru looks back down at you with a sad smile. He hushes you when you wiggle, trying to sit upright. “Careful, love, careful. You scared the shit out of me, you know?” 

Shooting him a sorry glance, you allow Suguru to gently lift you to a seated position every so slowly. He leans you against him, his thick thighs on either side of your hips as he lets you rest against his chest. You nod slowly as he delicately pulls your hair from your face and wraps his arms around you. 

“Sorry.”

Suguru shakes his head with a hum. 

“Don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers. “I’m just glad you’re awake. Are you feeling alright? How’s the pain?”

You slouch into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist and nodding as your eyes slide shut. 

“‘S not so bad. Where’s Toru?”

Suguru’s heart clenches sweetly, feeling warmed by your desire for Satoru. He adores the two of you with his entire being, and watching both of you always strikes a fond chord within his chest.

“He’s taking care of Gumi,” Suguru murmurs, looking down at you with a lovesick expression you cannot see. When you sit up straighter, Suguru accommodates your position with a scooch of his hips and his arm falling into your lap. 

“Gumi’s awake?”

“Yeah,” your husband responds quietly. “I think he heard me shout when you fell. He came in a few minutes ago, and Satoru’s comforting him.”

Suguru sounds a little guilty when he mentions his outburst. He’s not embarrassed by any means; it was a cry shouted in overwhelming fear, so he feels no bashfulness for the tone of his voice. He does, however, feel guilty that he managed to wake his son in the process. 

“He’s worried about you, I think.”

We all are, he almost finishes. 

You sag into Suguru’s chest, weight sinking into the warmth of his bare skin as you slide your hand over the arm that is wrapped around you. Just as you begin to speak, Satoru peeks his head through the doorway. His body is twisted, obscuring Megumi’s view inside the bathroom. When he finds your gaze, Satoru visibly softens. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” Satoru rumbles, a fond smile spreading across his features. “You feeling alright?”

You nod tiredly, resting your head against Suguru’s clavicle.

“That’s good. We were really worried, honey.” 

Your sigh through your nose, trying to give him an apologetic look, but the fatigue is beginning to pull your eyelids downwards. Satoru’s gaze softens even further, if at all possible, and he continues. 

“Can Megumi come in? He’s worried about you,” Satoru reiterates his partner’s words, clearly holding the boy against his chest as he speaks. 

You’re about to nod, more than happy to cuddle with your son, when Suguru interrupts. Stroking a hand over your hip, the long-haired sorcerer hums. 

“Let us come out, love,” he responds, already beginning to shift you in his lap. “We can talk about this in bed. I think everyone’s a little tired right now.” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the ache of your muscles cry out for rest. Your arm trembles weakly when you lift your hand, and you frown at the lack of strength in your limbs. Suguru hushes you sweetly as he shifts you to sit upright as he stands. 

“You’re exhausted, baby. It’s normal.” 

Satoru murmurs his agreement on the other side of the doorway, already beginning to step away to set Megumi in the middle of your massive bed. He ensures the boy is comfortable as he stands upright, stretching his shoulders and turning to watch as Suguru hoists you up onto his hips slowly. Satoru figured he wasn’t going to let you walk after what happened the first time you tried. 

Suguru’s hand is carefully cradling your head and the other wraps beneath your hips, keeping you stable and pressed against his big frame. The sorcerer is incredibly strong from the years of exorcizing curses and teaching students, so carrying you to the bed, despite your muffled protests, is an easy venture. 

Setting you on the bed gently, you shift quickly to face Megumi as you lay back against the sheets. You nestle quickly into Suguru’s previous place in bed, already reaching out for your son as he nuzzles forward to latch onto your front. 

“Hey, hun,” you whisper kindly, brushing dark strands from Megumi’s eyes. “What’s going on, Gumi?”

The boy looks up at you, still clutching his Divine Dog plush, and frowns. Your head tilts in confusion, and you watch as Megumi makes himself comfortable in your arms, cuddling close to your stomach and closing his eyes. You don’t protest, heart warming sweetly as the boy snuggles close. He doesn’t usually cuddle like this, so you’ll take every opportunity to hug him as you can. 

“Dad said you’re feeling bad,” he mumbles into the stuffed dog now pressed between you. “‘M gonna make you feel better. Like you do when I’m sick.” 

You smile. Heart full, your eyes slide shut as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the tired boy’s forehead. He mumbles something else, but he’s fading fast. Soon he’s lost to slumber, and he snoozes peacefully in your embrace. 

“Thank you, Megumi,” you whisper as you press another soft kiss to your son’s forehead. Looking up at Satoru with tears brimming in your eyes, you find the white-haired sorcerer is already looking at you. There’s fondness spilling from his smile and a sweet gentleness in his expression, and he looks utterly lovesick. 

“Hey,” Satoru murmurs. 

“Hi.” 

The Six Eyes user steps away for a moment, nodding at Suguru who whispers that he’s going to step out to get you water and your medicine. Satoru knows he’s also going to check in on the girls, so he gives Suguru a smile and a peck on the cheek as he slides around the bed to your back. 

When Satoru climbs into the silken sheets, he immediately presses his bare chest into your back and wraps his strong arms around you and his son. Pressing his soft lips to the nape of your neck, he pulls you and Megumi into his chest as he relaxes. You feel the familiar tingle of Infinity wrap around you and smile tiredly. Satoru is always protecting you and your family. The technique easily wraps around you and Megumi in addition to Satoru, and you know the sorcerer will easily adapt it to cover Suguru soon too. 

That’s just Satoru; he’s always looking out for his family. 

When you sigh deeply and snuggle back into your husband, Satoru presses another gentle kiss to your neck and you feel him shake. 

“Toru?”

The man shivers again, and when you shift, turning slightly to see his face, your face crumples as you find tears leaking from Satoru’s eyes. He looks utterly relieved, but his mouth still twitches in a sad sort of way and his sky-blue eyes shimmer with salty tears. For all his silly teasing and childlike humor, Satoru rarely looks so… scared. He’s always so strong – the strongest. But there are truly rare circumstances in which Gojo Satoru is confronted with true fear. 

Circumstances in which he remembers how vulnerable his family can be. 

“Oh, Satoru…”

Satoru buries his face in your neck again, concealing his tears as he calms down. 

“I was so worried, baby. Oh my God,” he mutters into your skin. “I woke up and you were on the floor and Sugu was crying…” 

You pull his hands tighter around you, careful not to wake Megumi. Stroking gentle circles into the muscle of his forearms, you coo a soft sound to soothe him. 

“‘M alright now. Just a little bit of pain, it’s mostly gone.”

Satoru nods, clinging to your back as he finally grounds himself through the gentle touch of your fingers on his skin. He pulls you closer, seeming as though he’s trying to fuse his body to yours with how tight he binds himself to you. It’s the soft contact of your skin against his that soothes the beat of his heart and loosens the tension of his muscles. The tingly feeling that lingers on his skin where you press into him leaves trails of prickled nerves in their wake, as if physical contact between your bare skin incites a biological reaction beneath his flesh. 

With you in his arms, tightly wrapped in his embrace where he can feel the pulse of your heart against his chest, Satoru finds serenity. 

You’re here. And you’re safe. 

Satoru chews on his lip as he sighs. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking his chin into your neck and dropping a hand to rub his palm over the side of your stomach. It’s uncanny, you think, that he already knows exactly where it hurts without you mentioning it. Satoru pays far more attention than people give him credit for. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more to take it away.” 

You shake your head, fatigued eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of Satoru’s big hands and the gentle circles he massages into you. 

Satoru continues in a voice uncharacteristically weak for the Strongest. 

“You were… alone and in pain,” he mumbles, guilt seeping into his tone as he frowns. “And I didn’t even know – we didn’t.” 

Satoru carefully pulls your hair away from your neck to press a kiss to your bare shoulder and then one more against the skin of your throat. He inhales a wave of your familiar scent and flutters his eyes closed as he sinks into your back. 

“I don’t want you to suffer alone, my love.” 

You stroke a contemplative finger over his arm, humming quietly as you shift Megumi in your arms. 

“Okay, Toru,” you whisper as you find the mirth in your exhausted figure to tease him. “You want me to wake you up at the ass crack of dawn when I’ve got cramps?” 

Satoru muffles a small chuckle into your neck and you enjoy the feeling of his chest shaking with the feeling. 

“Yeah, baby. Even then. Especially then.” 

You huff a breath of laughter through your nose, only stopping when you swiftly inhale as another cramp seizes your abdomen. It’s strong, but nothing like the ones you were having earlier. You can manage these. Satoru leans up on his elbow when you stiffen, lifting his other hand to check the hot water bottle Suguru had returned to your stomach. 

When Satoru pulls the bottle away, his brow furrows and he hisses when he finds faint hints of inflamed skin where you’ve pressed it too tight to your belly. It’s too hot and too close, he realizes. It’s burning you. 

Satoru nearly sits upright quickly, his frame leaning over yours as he gasps faintly. 

“Honey…” He’s on the verge of scolding you, but he sees the way you wince through another cramp and decides against it. Satoru looks back down at the hot water bottle and the way you clutch it tightly to combat the waves of throbbing in your belly. 

“This is burning you,” he states it obviously. 

“Hmm,” you respond in agreement. “Feels nice.” 

Satory looks down at you with pain in his features, face twisted into a frown and his crystalline eyes a shade duller. 

“Baby, it’s hurting you – How can…?” 

Satoru trails off. He thinks about how terribly you must have been aching to continue pressing something that was burning you into your skin. How agonizing were your cramps that the pain of the burn was comforting? 

Satoru lays back down, a frown on his lips as he wraps his arm back around you and lays his palm over the hot water bottle. If you’re going to keep it pressed into your skin, then he can make sure it doesn’t get too warm by leaving his hand against it.

“My god, baby… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He can’t even comprehend how agonizing this must be for you. Satoru kisses your nape again. He apologizes again, and you almost miss the silly Satoru who would typically be teasing you right now. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.” 

You yawn, finally feeling exhaustion begin to drag you beneath the slow, rocking waves of slumber. Pushing yourself deeper into your husband’s embrace and squeezing your son tight once more, you sigh out a few more words before you finally sink into sleep’s warm hands. 

“You are doing something,” you murmur, pulling his hand up to your mouth to kiss it tiredly. “You’re here, Satoru. I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.” 

When Suguru climbs back into bed on Megumi’s other side, he kisses the fond smile on Satoru’s lips and teases his partner about the stars in his eyes. The crystalline-eyed sorcerer refutes Suguru’s quip by reaching out to gently slap his bicep, but it’s all in mirthful adoration. Suguru leans over to press a tender kiss to your sleeping brow and then one to his son’s, before he settles behind Megumi and sighs contentedly. 

“She’s sleeping?” Suguru whispers, voice barely carried through the quiet night. He stares down at your face, the peaceful expression on your lips far more comforting than the limp, placid look of unconsciousness he remembers. Satoru watches his husband watch you, adoration swelling in his heart like an ebbing tide. Unbound by all but the moon, Satoru swears his heart only grows fonder each time he truly takes in his partners. 

“She’s sleeping,” he confirms sleepily, still staring up at Suguru with warmth in his chest. 

“Good.” 

Suguru’s response is sighed out thankfully, his shoulders deflating with the tension easing away from his muscle. He wraps his arms around Megumi and pulls himself closer to the boy, smiling when he easily cuddles into his father. Not often does Suguru have the opportunity to snuggle his son, so he eagerly grins as Megumi’s sleeping form curls near. 

“She’s early,” Satoru mentions plainly from across Suguru. “She wasn’t supposed to start until next week.”

The dark-haired sorcerer nods, recalling the date he marked in his phone. He and Satoru both kept track; it was easier that way. At this point, though, Suguru is certain he doesn't need his calendar to know these things. Your anniversary is ingrained in his memory, as is every one of your important dates. The three of you have spent more than a decade together, this kind of instinct was certain to develop at some point or another. 

“Yeah,” Suguru sighs. He twists slowly to glance tiredly at the clock on his bedside. “She took some painkillers at midnight, can you write that down? If she wakes again she can take some more.” 

Satoru nods, a hand already reaching for his phone on the nightstand behind him. It was second-nature to jot down the time you took medication. You always tried to keep track yourself, but sometimes noting the time slipped your mind, and you were left trying to recall the last time you took them. Satoru easily adds the time to his notes, and marks the date in his calendar to adjust your future schedule later. He checks that there’s still a bottle of your preferred painkiller in his nightstand drawer and a granola bar to eat when you take them. 

When he sets the phone down, he looks back over at Suguru, who sleepily stares down at your sleeping face. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but Satoru can see where Suguru has slid his around yours, pressing two of his fingers into the pulse point of your wrist. 

He’s counting your heartbeats – making sure you’re still breathing. Because Suguru remembers the way you crumpled all too clearly. 

Sighing a shaking breath as he familiarizes himself with the gentle thump of your lifeline, Satoru slides a hand around you and his son, and he lays it across his lover with a sad smile. Suguru looks up with tired eyes, the dark bags beneath his lashes barely visible in the night hour. They match the ones beneath your eyes and probably Satoru’s too. 

“Hey,” Satoru mumbles. “She’s alright, Sugu.” 

Suguru nods, finally sinking into the mattress and pressing a final kiss to Megumi’s hair as he makes himself comfortable. Satoru does the same, delicately squeezing the hand still wrapped around yours and cradled sweetly at your chest. 

“We’re alright,” Suguru confirms, eyes finally sinking closed as he falls back asleep with part of his family in his embrace. “We’re alright.” 

In the morning, you awake to two Divine Dogs guarding the foot of your bed. The white one sits with its side pressed against the dark one, and both face the bedroom door. You awake alone in bed, but you can hear distant voices quietly chatting in the hall. The little pups’ ears are perked upwards, diligently listening to the conversation outside. 

When you sit up, the white one flips his head over his shoulder, happily sticking his tongue out in a joyful expression. He pants and his tail thumps against the floor as you beckon him closer. 

“Good morning, pup,” you laugh as it wiggles excitedly when you scratch behind his ears. The dark-coated one quickly follows soon after, eagerly joining his brother for scratches. “What are you two doin’ here?” 

The pups tilt their heads with that silly, tongue-out expression, as if communicating their eagerness. You stifle your laughter and carefully stand from the sheets, making your way into the kitchen with the dogs on your heels. 

When you enter the living space, you find Suguru on the couch with the twins on either side of his lap. They’re eagerly leaning over one of Suguru’s books, excitedly murmuring amongst themselves as their father reads aloud. It’s one of his novels, and you chuckle knowing that the girls were probably the ones to pick it out for him to read. 

Tsumiki is at the table, leaning over some kind of puzzle, and her brother is at her side. She looks up as you come in, offering you a gentle smile and a nod before she goes back to her puzzle. Megumi sits on his knees in the chair, spiky hair unkempt as always and a look of concentration on his face. 

Before you can speak, Satoru is pressed against your back, greeting you with a gentle hum.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” he coos, pecking your cheek and sliding a croissant into your hands and holding a glass of water in his other. “Eat up. You can take some medicine when you’re done.” 

He always makes sure you eat before you take your medicine. Your heart thumps happily beneath your ribs, and you smile in return, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and thanking him. 

“Thanks, love.” 

Satoru hums and slides his free hand over your waist to squeeze your hip. He opens his mouth to say something, but the twins interrupt him. They gasp, standing from Suguru’s lap and eagerly racing over to greet you. 

Suguru chuckles, but still gently chides them as they race into the kitchen. 

“Careful!” 

Nanako and Mimiko crash into your hips with eager sounds, each grabbing you around the waist and crying out.

“Mama!” They cry worriedly, scrambling to hug you as they bury their faces in your legs. They start pushing you towards the couch with little hands, earnestly murmuring things you cannot make out. You look up at Satoru with a confused furrow of your brow, and your husband only chuckles and holds his hands up in a gesture of ‘i’ve got nothing to do with this.’ 

When you reach the couch, the girls scramble to make you sit beside Suguru, who is all too eager to wrap an arm around your shoulders to accommodate your arrival. 

“Good morning,” he hums as he pecks your temple. 

Nanako is already sliding a blanket into your lap as Mimiko climbs onto the couch, depositing herself at your side and snuggling into you. 

“Good morning,” you respond, watching with a fond smile as the girls make themselves comfortable in your lap. “What’s all this?” 

Suguru chuckles, reaching out to gently ruffle Nanako’s hair as she smiles. The girl looks up at her father with a beaming grin and snuggles closer to you when you wrap an arm around her to keep her stable. Your husband leans closer with a smile, murmuring quietly for only you to hear. 

“Megumi told them you were sick last night,” he fondly whispers. “I think it worried them.” 

Your head tilts in an expression of tenderness, and you give Suguru a knowing look before you lean down to kiss both your girls on the forehead. 

“Good morning, girls,” you rumble happily. “I’m alright, sweethearts. Megumi and your dads took very good care of me.”

Mimiko wiggles closer, snuggling into you and her sister with big, worried eyes. 

“Really?” her tiny voice murmurs. “Megumi-nii said you were hurting.” 

You can almost hear the pout in her voice without looking down at her. Giggling happily, you stroke a hand over her head and squeeze her close. 

“He even brought out his puppies!” Nanako quickly adds, squirming as he attempts to find the two Divine Dogs. “He said we couldn’t come in to see you because you needed to rest.” 

The two Shikigami have already returned to their owner, sitting on either side of Megumi’s chair with wagging tails and their tongues still sticking out. The boy is absentmindedly petting one while he focuses on the puzzle, shyly avoiding your gaze as if embarrassed. 

Your heart clenches sweetly again, and you turn to look at Satoru with a knowing smile. The sorcerer returns the look as he steps into the kitchen for your painkillers, ruffling Megumi’s hair as he goes. The boy lets out a muffled sound of discontent, but he doesn’t fix his messy strands. 

“Did he? That’s very sweet of him.” 

You and Suguru do not mention the faint pinkness of Megumi’s round cheeks. 

When you lean into Suguru’s side, the croissant in your hand warm like your lover’s body heat, you sigh happily. The cramps are a faint memory now, even though you know they’ll return soon. For now, you can savor the warmth of your family. 

“You’re taking the day off then, I suppose,” you look up at Suguru with an arched brow. Suguru smiles, leaning his head into yours to rest there. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, cuddling close to you and the twins. “We all are.” 

You suppose you can deal with the consequences of their unscheduled departure from work and school later… You’re far too warm and content now. When Satoru returns, sliding a glass of water into your empty hand and two painkillers into your other, he patiently waits as you take the pills. Then he sets the glass on the side table beside the mug of raspberry leaf tea he brewed for your cramps,  and then he eagerly dives into the limited space left on the couch. 

Scrambling into the twins’ space, Nanako and Mimiko giggle happily as Satoru presses kisses over their faces and squirms onto the couch. He plops Mimiko into his lap so he can sit at your side, laughing when the girls squeal happily. As you settle, you see Megumi look up from the table, shyly glancing away from his sister. Tsumiki gives him a knowing look as she climbs from her chair and eagerly walks over to Suguru. 

Suguru is too happy to allow her the tiny portion of space on his other side, and Tsumiki slides onto the couch, her side pressed tight to Suguru’s. She offers you a good morning and laughs when the twins attempt to squirm away from Satoru’s tickling fingers. 

Eventually Megumi stands from his place at the table, looking over at the couch as he debates something internally. A moment later, he stands in front of Suguru, shyly shifting on his feet as he looks at the only empty space on the couch. 

Megumi doesn’t need to say anything, because Suguru is already lifting the boy into his lap with a smile. Saving his son the embarrassment of shyly asking for the affection he usually avoids, Suguru chuckles as he deposits the last member of his family into his lap. 

“We could all use a day off,” he murmurs into your temple as he kisses you sweetly. 

You sigh happily, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and the laughter of your family. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

The moment is only interrupted when Megumi’s Divine Dogs, only pups at this age, launch themselves onto the couch, eager to join the snuggles. The seven of you dissolve into laughter as you try to maneuver the excited puppies, and you can’t ask for anything else. 

“Megumi!” You laugh, trying to brush white dog hair from your face. “Control your summons!” 

The boy only laughs happily as the dark-coated puppy wiggles into his lap. 

No, he doesn’t think he will. 

bonus:

gojo, looking down at reader and geto: you're so cute and pretty

reader, sleepily: I could beat the shit out of you

geto, nodding along: she could

gojo, lovingly: I know

a/n: no I am not back to writing just yet :')) I wrote this in a pain induced haze while having some terrible cramps so if you have terrible periods like me, this one is for you! this is purely based on my experience with cramps, and everyone is different, but I just wanted to write something for me :") I've never passed out but I've felt like it and I know it's super scary so I hope this can provide some comfort for you if you need it <3

ALSO this was written as comfort for jjk 236 :'))) bc everyone in this fic deserved better and I refuse to acknowledge canon

[jinjoohaa]

Room for One more ?

Pairing - JJK Men x reader

CW: suggestive language, sexual innuendo, age gap dynamics (19+ reader), inappropriate comments, possessive and flirtatious behavior, mild coercion, power imbalance, light alcohol use, emotional tension.

next chapter

Chapter 1

The apartment smelled like something warm—cinnamon maybe, or toasted sugar. It didn’t match the sight in front of you: a door propped open with a sneaker, a white sock hanging off the doorknob, and voices filtering through the narrow hallway.

You hesitated at the threshold with your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, trying not to fidget with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. Your friend, Aki, swore this was a good idea.

“They’re chill,” she’d said. “Little weird, but harmless.”

You were starting to think “little” had been a generous understatement.

A head peeked around the corner. Messy white hair. Sunglasses indoors.

“Hey. You must be the new stray.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

“Um… I’m Y/N.”

He grinned—wide, all teeth. “Cute. I’m Gojo. I call dibs on teaching you how to use the shower if you don’t know how.”

“…I do know how.”

He winked. “That’s what they all say.”

Behind him, another man walked into view, holding a mug and wearing a loose black tee that hung off one shoulder. His hair was dark, tied up lazily, and his gaze was unreadable as he sipped.

“Don’t harass her at the door, Satoru.”

“Harass? I was welcoming her,” Gojo gasped, offended.

“Sure,” he said. Then, to you: “I’m Geto. Ignore him. Mostly.”

Geto looked calmer, quieter, but you already felt how his eyes lingered too long—just a second more than appropriate. You swallowed and nodded politely.

Gojo turned back to you, gesturing wildly.

“Rules are simple. No bringing partners over, no stealing my snacks, and everyone’s required to attend Friday Movie Night. Also, if you’re gonna scream in your sleep, do it in your pillow. Sound carries.”

“Scream—?” you blinked.

He beamed again. “You’ll understand eventually.”

They showed you to the empty room. Technically Toji’s old room, but he’d moved everything out two days before to Nanami's as for welcoming you. It was small, but it had a bed, desk, and bathroom of your own. More than you expected, honestly.

You didn’t meet Nanami until that night.

He knocked on your door at 9:12 sharp.

“I wanted to introduce myself properly,” he said, standing stiffly at the doorway like he was afraid of invading your space.

“I’m Nanami. If any of them bother you, let me know. I’ll handle it.”

You nodded, voice small. “Thank you.”

His eyes flicked over you quickly, then away, as if embarrassed he’d even looked. “And welcome. Please don’t feel uncomfortable. You’re safe here.”

There was something… reassuring about him. Stoic, maybe, but polite. You felt your shoulders relax.

Until the next day.

You woke up to the sound of low voices, distant music, and the thud of something heavy—weights? A punching bag?

You padded out of your room and followed the sounds to the shared kitchen, only to stop short when you caught sight of the last one.

He had a towel slung over his shoulders, sweat gleaming across his chest. Tattoos peeked from the waistband of his shorts and his broad back flexed as he cracked open a water bottle.

His gaze flicked to yours. Unblinking. Cold green eyes. The stare of a man who didn’t say “hello,” just sized you up.

Toji.

“You’re the new girl,” he said. Voice rough, like gravel. “Didn’t expect you to look like that.”

You frowned. “Like what?”

“Soft. Lost.” He let his eyes drag over your body—bare legs, oversized shirt, sleep-flattened hair. “Easy.”

You stepped back, flustered. “I—excuse me?”

He shrugged, then grinned—sharp, quick.

“Don’t get all squeaky on me. I say what I think.”

You turned and nearly ran into Nanami, who appeared out of nowhere like a silent guardian. He placed a mug in front of you.

“Don’t take anything Toji says seriously,” he said, almost gently.

“And please wear slippers. The floor isn’t always clean.”

Toji snorted. “Keep babying her, Nanami. Let’s see how long that works.”

“Don’t call her that.”

You felt like you had walked into a play already halfway through—like everyone already had roles, histories, fights, flirtations. And now you were here, the only one out of place.

But they welcomed you.

They let you eat breakfast with them.

And when Geto leaned over to pass you a spoon—his arm brushing yours, his voice low as he said, “you really are cute when you flinch,”—something in you jolted awake.

This was not what you expected.

Not even close.

You hadn’t even finished your cereal when Toji spoke again.

“So,” he drawled, slumping lazily into a chair across the kitchen table, “you’re in my old room.”

You paused mid-bite. “…Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” he smirked, cracking open a second water bottle.

“Didn’t say I minded. Was just curious how it feels sleeping in a room that still probably smells like me.”

Your face heated instantly. “I—uh—what—?”

Nanami set his coffee down with a sharp clink. “Toji.”

“What? I’m just being friendly.”

You could barely look at either of them, the spoon trembling slightly in your grip. Toji leaned forward on his elbows, jaw flexing, muscles rolling under the ink on his forearm as he continued, voice slow and intentional.

“Should’ve asked me before giving up the room, though. Could’ve made a deal, sweetheart. Maybe shared it with you instead of Nanami.”

Your breath caught.

Nanami stood up straight. “Toji. Enough.”

Toji tilted his head, annoyed. “Relax. She’s not a kid.”

“She’s nineteen.”

“She’s legal.”

"Barely."

"Still legal."

“Toji.”

You could hear the edge in Nanami’s voice—firm, low, a thread of warning barely held back. Toji scoffed and sat back in his chair, tapping the bottle cap against the table.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Was joking.”

“Don’t joke like that.”

Toji rolled his eyes. “You know, this is why I didn’t want to share a room with you. You kill the vibe.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Nanami shot back, calm but cold.

Toji smirked again, looking at you. “Still think I should’ve shared a room with her.”

Your spoon hit the bowl with a soft clatter as you stood, too flustered to stay seated.

Nanami’s voice softened only slightly as he turned to you. “Ignore him. He’s like this with everyone.”

“I’m not,” Toji said, without missing a beat.

“Just with the ones I like.”

You practically ran to rinse your bowl and retreat to your room, mumbling something about needing to finish unpacking. Nanami’s eyes followed you until you disappeared, then turned sharply to Toji.

“She’s uncomfortable.”

“She’ll get used to it.”

“She shouldn’t have to.”

“Spare me the lecture.”

Before Nanami could retort, the front door burst open with a dramatic thud, followed by an enthusiastic, drawn-out, “We’re hooome!”

Gojo’s voice, unmistakable.

He strolled in like a celebrity on a red carpet, sunglasses still on despite the dim lighting of the apartment hallway, arms loaded with takeout bags and a six-pack of beer. Geto followed behind, phone in one hand, hair tied up tighter now, holding the speaker end of the Bluetooth playing obnoxiously loud house music.

“Don’t worry, I brought enough food to bribe your forgiveness,” Gojo said, dropping the bags onto the kitchen counter. “And beer to blur your memories.”

Toji was already halfway through his first can before they even settled. Geto gave a soft chuckle when he saw him.

“Didn’t even wait for us?”

Toji shrugged. “Why would I?”

Nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You said you were picking up groceries, not takeout and alcohol.”

Gojo waved a hand. “Tomato, tomahto. Let loose, Kento. It’s Friday.”

“I’m going to my room,” Nanami said flatly, already walking away.

“Again?” Gojo called.

“Come on, don’t be lame. You’re gonna make her think this house is boring.”

Nanami stopped at his door and turned to you—eyes softening slightly.

“If you want peace,” he said, “I’d suggest you do the same.”

You nodded quickly. “Y-Yeah. I’ll—”

But you didn’t even finish the sentence before Gojo zipped past Nanami with a devilish grin and took a sharp turn toward your room. You blinked, confused, until—

“Wait—! What are you—?!”

Too late.

Gojo was back in the living room with you in his arms, bridal style, grinning like a maniac while you squeaked and clung to him.

“She said she was gonna hide,” he said to Geto, who leaned lazily against the wall, enjoying the show. “Can you believe that?”

“I can,” Geto said. “But I support your kidnapping. It’s fun.”

“Put me down!” you yelped.

“Nope. House rule number five—‘All Friday nights must be celebrated with excessive noise and minor abductions.’ Look it up.”

“There is no such rule!”

“There is now.”

He dumped you unceremoniously onto the couch, and you bounced with a soft “oof” as Geto plopped beside you and handed you a can of soda. He opened one for himself—beer, obviously—and stretched one arm across the back of the couch behind you.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, voice low, mouth too close to your ear.

“This place isn’t so bad once you lower your standards.”

Toji dropped down into the armchair next to the couch, now on his second beer. His eyes dragged across your legs, your face, the curve of your back as you tried to sit properly—anything but notice the way his gaze lingered.

“Don’t act so scared,” he muttered. “No one here bites.”

Then a pause.

“…Unless you ask nicely.”

You swore you heard Geto chuckle behind you. Gojo walked past, ruffling your hair playfully, before collapsing onto the rug in front of the TV and pointing the remote like a weapon.

“Now,” he declared. “Movie night begins. But first—shots?”

“Absolutely not,” Nanami’s voice called from the hallway.

Gojo grinned. “See? He’s always listening.”

And you, sitting on the couch between Geto’s lazy smile and Toji’s dark stare, started to realize something.

You weren’t going to live in this house.

You were going to survive in it.

You’d tried to stay quiet—really. Sitting tucked on the couch, legs pressed together, soda can hugged to your chest while the boys sprawled around like they owned the entire apartment complex, not just the living room.

But that never worked for long in this place.

Especially not with them.

“Look how tense she is,” Gojo grinned, poking at your shoulder as he lay on the rug, head tilted back to peek at you upside down. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

“She’s probably just overwhelmed,” Geto added smoothly, resting his chin in his palm as he leaned on the couch’s armrest.

“New house, new people. Four grown men. Living with us must feel like walking into a lion’s den.”

Gojo pouted. “Hey! I’m a kitten.”

Toji scoffed. “A loud one with rabies.”

Nanami’s voice floated from his room. “All of you have rabies.”

Laughter echoed around you, but your face was already heating.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “Just tired.”

“Sure you are,” Toji muttered, sipping his beer and eyeing you from the chair across the room. His legs were spread wide, arms resting loose on the sides, posture lazy—but his eyes were sharp, tracking every twitch you made. “You always this jumpy around guys?”

“Wha—no, I—”

“Uh-huh.”

You turned away quickly, but that only made things worse.

Geto leaned closer, his arm brushing yours. “You’ve never lived with boys before, huh?”

You shook your head, hoping they’d drop it.

They didn’t.

“Never even had a boyfriend?” Gojo teased, propping his chin on his fists, grinning wide. “You’re giving… pure vibes.”

“That's—,” you hissed, your ears turning hot.

“Ohhh, no way—” he gasped.

“Are you—wait, wait—are you seriously untouched? Like, untouched-untouched?”

You choked on your drink.

“God,” Toji muttered, dragging a hand down his face and grinning like he knew something dirty. “You guys are vultures.”

“But she’s so cute when she’s flustered!” Geto said, laughing now. “Look at that—she’s about to melt.”

You were.

Your face was burning, your heart pounding too fast, and the room suddenly felt stifling.

“I’m just gonna get some air,” you mumbled, slipping off the couch and weaving past the mess of limbs and bottles and pillows scattered across the floor.

“Need help breathing, princess?” Toji called after you.

You didn’t answer.

The balcony was small but quiet. The city lights glittered in the distance, noise a soft hum beneath the apartment’s height. You inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the tension—but the air wasn’t clean.

It was thick with smoke.

You turned and froze.

Toji was already out there, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his fingers. He glanced sideways at you, one brow arching.

“Well, well.”

You blinked. “I—I didn’t know you were here—”

“Door’s open. I’m always here.”

Your stomach fluttered.

He took a long drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl through the air before flicking the ash over the edge. You hovered near the doorway, hesitant to step fully into his space.

“You coming in, or just planning to stand there breathing my secondhand smoke?”

You swallowed. “I—I can come back later—”

But before you could even step back, he moved—reaching past you, gripping the balcony door, and swinging it shut behind you with a soft click.

Your heart jumped.

He didn’t touch you—but he didn’t have to. The proximity alone made your nerves spark.

“…What are you doing?” you asked, voice quieter now.

Toji turned to face you, only a foot or two away now, flicking the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with his boot.

“Nothing. Just thinking.” He paused, then grinned. “You make it a habit to run when guys talk to you?”

“I—I wasn’t running.”

He gave you a look.

“…Okay, maybe a little,” you muttered.

He chuckled—low and rough. “Thought so.”

Silence stretched for a second, uncomfortable.

Then, softly: “So what’s your deal?”

You blinked. “My…?”

“Yeah. What’s your story, sweetheart?” He stepped closer, arms crossing over his chest.

“You some rich daddy’s girl cut off for bad grades? Or did you just lose a bet and wind up here with four assholes?”

You fumbled, laughing awkwardly. “N-No, nothing like that. I—I just… needed a cheaper place. Couldn’t afford dorm rent anymore. A friend of Gojo’s mentioned the room.”

“Friend of Gojo’s,” he echoed, smirking. “That explains a lot.”

You fidgeted under his stare.

“What are you studying?” he asked next, voice quieter.

“Economics.”

“Big dreams?”

“Sort of. I—I mean, I want something… stable.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt. “You’ll hate it.”

“I—huh?”

“Trust me. People who want stability are always the ones who end up miserable.” He tilted his head.

“How old did you say you were?”

“N-Nineteen.”

He smiled again. Not kindly.

“Barely legal.”

You flinched. “I—um—can I go to sleep now?”

Toji stepped in again, this time close enough that you could smell the mix of smoke and aftershave clinging to him.

“What’s the rush?” he said, voice low, teasing.

“Talk to me a little more. I’m curious about our new roommate. You’re a shy little thing—but I bet there’s more under the surface.”

“There’s—nothing, I—I swear—”

“You always this bad at lying?” he grinned. “Cute.”

You felt heat crawl down your spine.

Then—

“Yo! Where’d you go, princess?”

Gojo’s voice. Loud. Coming closer.

“Damn,” Toji muttered under his breath.

Before you could even turn, the balcony door swung open again, and Gojo poked his head out, eyes lighting up when he saw you cornered.

“Aha! I knew he was hogging you.”

“I wasn’t—” you started, but Gojo didn’t wait. He swooped in and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Wha—HEY—!”

“Sorry, Toji,” Gojo chirped, grinning. “I'm taking her. Find your own cuddle buddy.”

Toji’s jaw flexed, brow twitching.

“Put her down, idiot.”

“Later,” Gojo called as he carried you back inside, music still blaring, Geto laughing from the couch.

He plopped you down again, passed you a fresh can.

“Cheers,” he said, grinning into your eyes.

“To surviving your first night in hell.”

You lifted the drink, heartbeat still racing, and took a sip.

But even as you sat between the chaos, you felt a burning gaze linger behind you—from the balcony where Toji still stood, jaw clenched around another cigarette.

Watching.

Waiting.

to be continued in the next chapter

.

[munv]

Suguru’s jealousy simmers. It’s barely noticeable, but its there. And you come to this realization when he denies you of your cause.

“no.”

“Just this once suguru, come on!”

“Hell no”

He’s currently wrapped in his towel, hair loose and dripping and no shirt. Fresh from the shower you presume. Yet, he wears this irritated face as if he managed to convert all that hot water from his shower into anger.

A snicker comes from the bed, following by a haughty voice. “What’d ya do to make him so pissed, I wonder?” He glances up for a second, eyes fixing on your figure as you reach for another product on your vanity.

“Satoru, you arent taking this seriously.” Suguru bites back. He eyes his white counterpart, who is currently scrolling on his phone without a care in the world.

You roll your eyes at the two before going back to fixing your makeup. “The girls and I will be gone for like, an hour at best. Im not gonna get swiped the second I go outside.”

“Like that you probably will.” Satoru chimes in, again.

“People like you are the reason others feel the need to end it.” You snark

“Love you too sweets” That little fucker is taunting instead of helping your case, how useful.

You watch as Suguru approaches you from the mirror and leans over your figure. “Suguru, you’re gonna get me wet!”

“Where?”

“You know what I mean” He gives a boyish laugh before tracing his hands across your collarbone. Bending down to whisper in your ear as he drapes himself over you. Closer and closer to your face.

“Eugh, your shower evidence is gonna seep into my clothes, off. Now!”

“Quit being sassy. You really thought you’d go out looking this good? I cant stress this enough im afraid”

He pecks your neck and for a moment, your completely entranced as he breathes in your perfume. Nose snug in your neck as he narrows his eyes at you through the reflection.

Your breath hitches, but you dont falter. Not yet. “The point is that I look good babe.” You wiggle a bit in his grasp, watching his hands slither down to grasp at your hip as the other settles on your leg.

“You always look good. But I think you should stay in tonight” he grumbles, snuggling closer. “Really?”

He squeezes your hip. “Really.”

You can feel yourself folding under his grasp at an alarming rate, and by this point? You have half the mind to message utahime you wont make it tonight.

“Say, how about I show you something better? Hm? Im sure that we can arrange someth—“

“I GOT 76028 LETS GO?!”

You both groan.

Satoru rolls around, white tussled hair bouncing along in his excitement. All before he looks up with wide eyes

“Woah. Two hotties. We fucking or what?”

You sigh before wiggling out of Suguru’s grasp. “Im taking a shower.”

Suguru glared at satoru with a strained smile. “You just ruined the mood you dork”

“For real?”

“For real.”

[mononijikayu]

guess!? — geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru.

Satoru couldn’t help but blink, glancing down, then grinned. "Well, aren’t you a little minx." Suguru took a sip of his drink, amused. "That better not be a fake number, doll." You simply gave them a look, one that promised nothing and everything all at once. "Guess you'll just have to find out." The white haired model laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I like you." The dark haired singer could only smirk, something unreadable flickering behind his dark lilac  eyes. “Intriguing, doll.”

GENRE: alternate universe - celebrity!au;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, sexual content, poly relationship, threesome, double penetration, explicit smut, consensual sex, sexual intercourse, making out, bodily fluids, nipple play, kissing(fm+mm), rough sex, p-i-v sex, anal sex, creampie, fingering, fingerfucking (female receiving, vaginal/anal), sexual overstimulation, asphyxiation, biting, scratching, pet names (sweetheart, doll, good girl, etc....), flirting, friendship, gender themes, falling in love, secret relationship, fluff, getting together, idiots in love, drama, happy ending, use of she/her pronouns, crack, humour, profanity, lgbtqia themes, depiction of sexual content, depiction of sexual intercourse, depiction of sexual positions, depiction of body parts, mention of sexual themes, depiction of alcohol, mention of body parts, mention of sexual acts, mention of alcohol, soloist! geto suguru, model! gojo satoru, actress! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: it took a while to write this and i swear, i will not take much more stuff like this until i have more time. but the idea was too good to pass on. i couldn't help myself. also the first time i've written a poly relationship and a threesome. like, this is really a new thing for me. so if its not up to the same standards as what i usually write or its too much for you, then its fine not read it. i am thankful anyway. in any case, if there are people who will enjoy it, thank you. and im glad you enjoy it with it. i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

kayu's playlist, side 2500;

USUALLY THE APPLAUSE ENDS WHEN YOU GET OFF THE STAGE. But somehow, it does not stop even as you get down the steps of the stage. Your name had just echoed through the speakers, immortalized in the annals of cinematic history. You will forever be someone, something. You will always have this. 

You have to admit that the applause was deafening, a symphony of claps and cheers that reverberated through the grand hall. Yaga Masamichi was right when he told you all about the magic of winning. You will never forget that high, it was almost like a drug. You get addicted to the feeling. And you probably always will.

As you made your way down backstage, you could still feel the warmth of the stage lights against your skin, your pulse pounding as you clutched the golden statuette in your hands.

Everything about this moment, you knew that it was real—this moment, this win. You had never expected it. Not because you weren’t good, not because you didn’t believe in yourself. But because it just felt out of this world. 

Yet, now it was not out of this world anymore. If anything, it was as it was. It was real. It was your moment. It was now well lived. Your name on this statuette, with the title Best Actress on it. It was all you had ever wanted. It was all you had ever worked for.

And yet, you think that wasn’t the most life-altering thing that has happened to you. If anything, what made the moment even more surreal was the man standing beside you, the one who had presented you with the award just moments earlier. You just didn’t know it yet.

Gojo Satoru.

A name that carried its own weight, synonymous with an ethereal kind of beauty that was almost otherworldly. The super model who graced the covers of international magazines, whose sharp yet delicate features seemed sculpted by the gods themselves.

His white hair gleamed under the lights, his signature tinted glasses pushed up just enough to reveal strikingly blue eyes. You think that it was so vibrant they almost seemed to glow.

You had always known he was beautiful. 

Anyone with working eyesight would agree. 

But it wasn’t just his looks that held your attention.

It was the way the charisma blew into magic when he spoke.

Even amidst the deafening applause, his dazzling voice had a way of cutting through the noise, a melodic timbre that was both smooth and deliberate. Each word was laced with that one of a kind subtle charm, effortlessly poetic in a way that made people want to listen.

He was almost like a siren, capturing people’s  And when he turned to you, flashing that lazy, lopsided grin, his congratulations had felt far more intimate than the formalities exchanged on stage.

Backstage, you barely had time to process what had just happened to you. You were just stunned into silence. You absentmindedly accepted the congratulations from the staff and thanked them.

You were on cloud nine with this win. It wasn’t until you felt a hand brush against your shoulders did you find yourself turning around and meeting those dashing blue eyes of his.

"Congratulations." he murmured, standing close enough that you could catch the faintest hint of his cologne. It was something clean, fresh, and just a little bit sweet. "You deserved that win. Though, between us, I already knew you’d take it."

His sweetened voice was lighter now, teasing, yet beneath it lay something that felt sincere. You found yourself truly turning to him, meeting his gaze fully, and for a moment, it felt as if the chaos of the evening had melted away. Your chaos lay now with him, in this face to face.

"You’re awfully confident in me, Mr. Gojo." you mused, still catching your breath.

"Shouldn’t I be?" His lips curved slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. "I’ve seen your work. You don’t just act in that. I think you truly became her, that spanky witful comedian. It was never a question of if you’d win, only when."

A rush of warmth spread through you, different from the exhilaration of winning, softer in a way that made your heart stutter. Gojo Satoru had just complimented your craft. You knew that it was genuine, real. It was not words echoed out of politeness, not as part of some scripted pleasantry, but as someone who had truly seen you.

And somehow, in the midst of all the flashing cameras and roaring applause from before, that felt like the biggest victory of the night. Because if you were being honest, you were much too certain that not a lot of people understood your craft, how you took it so seriously.

How you lived and breathed it. He understands. You could see that look in his eyes. He breathed his work as much as you did. Your fingers tightened around the trophy in your hands, its cool weight grounding you amid the dizzying realization that Gojo Satoru had just seen you in a way so few ever had.

You turned to him, studying the way his signature blindfold had been abandoned for the night, allowing you to meet his gaze fully. Those striking blue eyes filled with mischief, but something else too. Something that felt dangerously close to admiration.

“You… really think so, huh?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost uncertain.

Gojo’s lips quivered into that signature grin of his, but there was no teasing in it this time. Only sincerity remained. “Would I lie to you?”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yes. You absolutely would.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Ouch. And here I was, being all nice and supportive. Maybe I should just take it back—”

“Don’t you dare now, Mr. Gojo.” you cut in, pointing a finger at him.

His grin widened, but then, as if something shifted in him, he tilted his head slightly. “But I do mean it, sweetheart.” he said, softer this time. “You didn’t just play the part—you embodied it. That’s rare.”

The rush of warmth in your chest deepened, turning into something else entirely, something you weren’t ready to name. You swallowed, gripping your trophy tighter. “Thank you, Mr. Gojo. Really.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, and it was unsettling how quiet he became, how he almost seemed to be considering something. Then, his lips twitched again. “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart.” he said, stepping closer. “You do know this means I’m expecting even greater things from you next time, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “So you’re saying I just won an award, and you’re already raising the bar on me?”

Gojo clicked his tongue. “Come on, you wouldn’t want me to go easy on you, would you?”

And just like that, the weight of the night, the exhaustion, the pressure. Somehow, all of it felt lighter. Because if Gojo Satoru, of all people, saw your passion, then maybe, just maybe—you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were meant for this. Your obsession with your work will pay off.

“Oh, by the way, sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to call me Mr. Gojo all the damn time.” He says to you, a sly smile on his lips. “You can just call me Satoru.”

You raised a curious brow, a small snicker leaves your lips. “While you call me sweetheart?”

“Precisely that, sweetheart. You’re so good at keeping up with me.”

You laugh. “Well, I do try.”

The after-party of the awards ceremony was in full swing by the time you arrived. You would have arrived sooner had you decided to go directly to the party. But you didn’t pay thousands on a custom dress for it not to be used.

So, you went back to your hotel and got ready again in order to get dressed. And you had to say, it was worth it. This dress was more comfortable than the one you wore on stage.

You walked in rather carefully, letting your ears jam through the outgoing echoes of music playing in the background. The entire venue was just exorbitantly bathed in the afterglow of warm, golden light with glasses clinking and laughter humming through the air like a soft melody. 

This was a lovely little celebration from the management team, which was usually an invite only event. This was only for the best and brightest in the industry, where directors, actors, and producers mingled effortlessly, champagne in hand. And now you can only suppose you were one of them.

You had barely taken a sip from your own glass when you felt a familiar presence approaching. You immediately found yourself looking up as you heard the footsteps grow louder towards you. You couldn’t help but find yourself paying attention to it more than ever, more than the music in the background. 

“Enjoying your victory, superstar?”

You turned, already knowing who it was before you even laid eyes on him. 

Once again, standing there in all his wonder and might, dazzling.

It was a bright and beautiful Gojo Satoru standing before you.

He looked just as effortlessly stunning as he had on stage earlier, only now he had shed the formal pretense. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, revealing a sliver of collarbone. His dark rimmed glasses were nowhere to be seen, leaving his piercing blue eyes completely unobscured—unfairly bright under the party lights.

“I was genuinely enjoying it.” you said smoothly, lifting your glass to your lips. “But I think it just got a little more interesting.”

His grin widened at that. “Oh? I do have that effect on people.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way his presence filled the space around you. His grin widened as he leaned in just slightly, just enough to make you aware of how close he was without crossing the line.

“So, tell me, sweetheart.” he mused, swirling the drink in his hand. “What’s it like? You can be honest now, right? How was winning Best Actress? Holding that little golden trophy and knowing you’re officially the best in the business?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Mmm… I suppose it feels a little surreal. Like I’m in a dream.”

“A dream, huh?” He smirked. “Guess that makes me your charming co-star then.”

You arched a brow. “What makes you think you’re part of my dream?”

“Because, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I think a dream means looking up. And you haven’t stopped looking at me all night.”

You scoffed, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Satoru was hard not to look at, after all.

He was a very, very pretty being to you.

“Big words for a man who’s been following me since I stepped off that stage, isn’t it?”

His laughter was rich, genuine. “Can you blame me? I have excellent taste.”

“You mean you like collecting award winners?” you teased, taking another sip of your drink.

“Nah, not that.” he leaned in, voice lower now, more intimate. “Just the ones who can keep up with me, sweetheart.”

Your heart did something strange in your chest, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Is that so?”

“Yes, so, truly.” 

“Then I hope you don’t get tired too quickly.” you murmured, stepping just a little closer. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

His gaze darkened just slightly, intrigue flashing And just like that, the night had only just begun. Drink after drink was served to both you and him, the glasses never empty for long. The air was thick with laughter, the hum of conversation, and the clinking of glass against glass. The afterparty was in full swing, but somehow, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

Supermodel icon Gojo Satoru was an enigma. You had seen him on stage at fashion shows, commanding attention without so much as trying. He had that effortless allure, the kind that made people lean in, wanting to know more, yet never quite getting close enough to unravel the mystery of him.

Yet, you realized something. Drawing you in wasn’t the same as keeping you. Like the siren that he was, he lured you in with his charm, his easy smile, his teasing words. And just when you thought you had a grasp on him, he’d slip right through your fingers, leaving you yearning for more. It wasn’t just attraction; it was something else entirely. A hypnotic pull that made his presence almost intoxicating.

Satoru and you had quite a fair bit in common. The relentless passion for your work, the thrill of being on stage. Whether it was acting or modeling, the way you both lived for the art of performance.

You had spent years perfecting your craft, slipping into different roles with the ease of someone who had learned how to exist in multiple worlds at once. And him? He wore his confidence like a second skin, dazzling, untouchable.

But here, now, in the low light of the afterparty, with the remnants of celebration still hanging in the air, he felt different. Less like the untouchable figure everyone admired from afar, and more like someone real—someone sitting across from you with a half-finished drink, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“You’re thinking too much, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip.

You raised a brow. “And you can tell that how?”

Gojo smirked. “Because you always get this look when you’re analyzing something. It’s like you’re trying to pick it apart piece by piece.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to make your breath hitch. “So, tell me—what exactly are you trying to figure out?”

You hummed against your glass, looking at it studiously, before looking up back at him with an enticing smile. “Guess.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. And that had made you feel something deep inside, something you were not sure how to describe. This was the first time you’ve ever experienced that. It was new, it was fast approaching. You don’t know how to dodge.

“Oh, sweetheart.” he chuckled, tilting his glass toward you in a mock toast. “I’m counting on figuring it out.”

You laughed. “Then I look forward to the challenge.”

For a moment, you watched him return that laugh. Before finding that his eyes were wandering elsewhere. You were curious, trying to follow where his beautiful eyes would land. Yet you could not tell how congested the crowd of celebrities were through the vestiges of the room. Before long, you found him getting closer to you.

Gojo Satoru leaned in with that playful smirk and said, “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet, sweetheart.” 

You knew things were about to get even more interesting. You nodded at him before you followed him through the sea of guests, past industry elites and fellow actors basking in their victories, until he finally stopped near the stage where the evening’s performances were set to take place.

And that’s when you saw him.

You couldn’t help but let your mouth go agape.

It was him. It was truly him. It was Geto Suguru.

That name alone carried weight—one of the biggest soloists in the industry, a voice that had dominated the charts and hearts alike. Unlike Gojo Satoru, who was all radiant charm and untamed confidence, Geto Suguru simply exuded something deeper, something more rugged. Something rougher, less polished but just as mesmerizing.

His long, wavy dark hair was tied back loosely, a few strands falling over sharp features that looked carved with intention. Where Gojo Satoru’s presence was blinding, Geto Suguru’s existence was rather similar to smoldering. It was an ember that burned slowly but left its mark permanently for forever all the same.

“Suguru, meet our Best Actress.” Satoru introduced his tone light but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “And lucky for her, she gets an exclusive front-row seat to your performance.”

Suguru couldn’t help but turn to you then, his gaze steady, dark lilac eyes deep and assessing in a way that sent an unexpected thrill down your spine. He gave you a slow, knowing smile. One you could not decipher as easily as Satoru's smile. Suguru’s smile was not as flashy as Satoru;s own but no less captivating. If anything, it was wrapped layers you could not understand.

“I saw your speech earlier.” he said, voice smooth, rich, and deep like a song before the first note hit. “You carry yourself well, don’t you? But I get the feeling you’re even more interesting when you’re not under the spotlight.”

You arched a brow, matching his energy. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

Satoru couldn’t help but let out an exaggerated groan beside you. “You two are already doing the mysterious, brooding thing, aren’t you?”

Suguru shot him a look, amused. “And you’re not?”

Satoru dramatically placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I am the light of this party, thank you very much.”

You laughed, and a mysterious gaze flickered to you again. It lasted more than just a second longer. Yet, that was all that was necessary. It was just enough to make you feel it hit home hard. Then the stage lights shifted, and the room quieted as the host took the mic. 

“And now, we have a special treat tonight. Performing his newest song, please welcome the one and only—Geto Suguru!”

The applause swelled, and Suguru gave you one last glance, something unreadable in his expression. Then he stepped forward, took the stage, and the moment he started singing. It was sultry, it was smooth, It was all the while suave and low, and all the same honest and raw, and most of all, devastatingly beautiful.

In that moment, you like to think you finally understood. If Gojo Satoru was the kind of man who captured attention like a supernova, then Geto Suguru was the kind that pulled you in slowly with an unshakable gravity, steady and impossible to ignore.

And right now, you were falling for the charm of both.

Right now you were captured by both of the siren calls.

Yet you were not running the other direction for help.

If anything, you were letting them drown you to the tune of their voices.

You could tell that the more Geto Suguru’s voice filled the venue with milk and honey, the air shifted in a way that would change the world forever. The once lively chatter quieted, replaced by the hypnotic pull of his music. Everything about what he was echoing through that voice, you could tell that there was something that crawled under your skin and settled there, leaving a slow burn in its wake. And he knew it, the moment your eyes met.

You had heard his songs before, of course. You weren’t living under a rock. But it was just so different hearing it live. It was different when you find yourself under his beck and call.  His voice was a magic that drags you back in, it was a very heavy feeling. It was the kind that lingered even after the music stopped. You barely registered Satoru watching you, his grin turning knowing.

He leaned down and murmured, “Careful, sweetheart. He has that effect on people.”

You scoffed but didn’t look away from the stage. “And you don’t?”

The white haired man couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, I definitely do. But Suguru? He’s got that slow-burn kind of charm. The kind that sneaks up on you slowly but surely.”

You could see what he meant. If Gojo Satoru was a flash of lightning—brilliant, impossible to ignore. Then  you were certain that Geto Suguru was his opposite. Suguru was the slow, rolling thunder that followed. Something deep, resonant, that stayed long after the strike.

As the final notes of the song faded, the applause erupted. Suguru’s gaze flickered over the crowd before landing on you. He held it for just a moment longer than necessary, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips before he dipped his head in thanks and left the stage.

A moment later, he was back, stepping up beside you as if he hadn’t just held the entire room captive. As if he didn’t hold you captive. You swallowed the bile down back into your throat, gathering yourself. He looks quite amused. 

“So?” he asked, his voice still carrying the remnants of his performance. “Did I live up to the hype?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You were alright.”

Satoru snorted, nearly choking on his drink. Suguru just couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his dark velvet eyes. You looked at him almost like you were quite the proud cat.

“Just alright?” he mused, voice smooth as silk. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to impress the Best Actress of the night.”

You met his gaze, feeling the way his words coiled around you, slow and deliberate. But you weren’t going to let him win that easily.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, then.”

Something in Suguru’s eager smirk deepened, like he enjoyed the challenge. Beside you, Gojo Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. You raised a brow at him, as though trying to ascertain why he had even looked at you.

“Great. Now there are two of you.” he lamented, shaking his head. “I swear, it’s like watching a slow-burning movie where the main characters refuse to admit they’re into each other.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what does that make you?”

Satoru had grinned, throwing an arm around both you and Suguru, pulling you in effortlessly. “Oh, I’m the fan-favorite all day everyday pretty man that everyone secretly loves. Obviously.I thought we already had this in the bag, hm?”

You blinked at him and then started laughing. All the sudden, it was three of you laughing, the tension breaking just enough to feel effortless joy about it. But as the night stretched on into the dark flutterings under the moon-light. Everything was filled with drinks, laughter, and glances that lasted a little too long. You knew one thing for certain.

Between Gojo Satoru’’s playful, magnetic pull and Geto Suguru’s slow, smoldering intensity, you were caught somewhere in between. And you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be freed. If anything, you wanted for this to go on.

The night surely and happily pressed on, glittering and intoxicating, the kind of night that felt like it belonged in a movie, it felt ever so much like the classics. Like the one where the lighting was just right, the music was just loud enough, and the energy in the air made everything feel a little too good to be real.

The two of them seemed to be happy to be striking close, even more so orbiting around you like the world had narrowed down to a world where you were the sun and they were the planets that danced all about you. It was like a universe made for three. The blundering conversations blended together, champagne glasses clinked, but their attention never really strayed.

Then, sometime between the second drink and the third, Gojo Satoru slowly leaned in, a lazy, knowing smirk curling on his lips. "So, are we just going to let you disappear after tonight? Or are you going to give us your number?"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh? Are you asking for my number, Satoru? Or my agent’s number? You gotta be certain if you wanna hear the ring, hm?"

He clicked his tongue. "Obviously. I need a way to annoy you outside of events like these. Of course you know who’s number I want.”

Suguru, standing just behind him, chuckled, the sound low and amused. "What he means to say is—it'd be a shame if this was the last time we talked." His gaze flickered down to you, warm but unreadable. "Don't you think? Of course, without the heap of professional lines ringing."

You could feel the weight of their attention, the way Gojo Satoru’s was playful but insistent, while Geto Suguru’s was steady, deliberate. But if they thought you were going to make it easy? No, you weren’t born to be easy. They were just simply mistaken.

You smiled, tilting your head. "Hmm. My number, huh? You boys must not be used to working for things."

Satoru let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, it’s not that. If anything, it’s just the fact that I love a challenge."

Suguru laughed and then let his lips settle into a mere smirk. "And you must not be used to people willing to chase you down too, don’t you think?"

Oh. You think to yourself absent-mindedly. I’ve been caught.

Your languid fingers curled around the stem of your glass, hiding the way their words sent a slow, creeping heat up your spine. You could feel the heat permeate through your skin as you purse your lips into a rather tight line.

Satoru leaned in even closer, his voice dipping lower, just for you. "So? Are you going to make us work for it? Or make it even more….fun?"

You let yourself hum about, pretending to think. But you were sure to settle with the world you were already willing to live in. You know it yourself even with this sly attitude you were portraying before them. 

Then, with a slow smile, you reached for a napkin, plucked a pen for that prop pen in Suguru’s pocket. He didn’t even flinch, just watched you with lazy interest and scribbled something down. Then, just as smoothly, you tucked it into Satoru’s pocket instead of handing it over.

Satoru couldn’t help but blink, glancing down, then grinned. "Well, aren’t you a little minx."

Suguru took a sip of his drink, amused. "That better not be a fake number, doll."

You simply gave them a look, one that promised nothing and everything all at once. "Guess you'll just have to find out."

The white haired model laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I like you."

The dark haired singer could only smirk, something unreadable flickering behind his dark lilac  eyes. “Intriguing, doll.”

The night had already stretched long and far by then, the energy still thrumming through the air, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in. You were surely in need of the rest now, you were sure. The weight of the evening, of winning, of celebrating, of whatever game you were playing with the two most dangerously charismatic men in the room. It was all finally settling over you.

You stifled a yawn behind your hand, the warmth of the drinks making your limbs pleasantly heavy. The music pulsed in the background, the chatter of the party still alive and buzzing, but your focus had narrowed to just the two of them. Gojo Satoru, with his sharp, knowing grin, and Geto Suguru, watching you with that quiet, unreadable amusement.

The blue eyed model leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms behind his head. “Tapping out already? That’s a shame,isn’t it?” he drawled, tilting his head at you. “I was just starting to have fun with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up from your seat. “Some of us have limits, Satoru.”

Suguru chuckled, setting his drink down with a soft clink. “Smart girl, isn’t she, Satoru? We can’t have her play with hyenas for too long.” His gaze flickered over you, thoughtful. “Wouldn’t want you pushing yourself too hard, doll. Big night and all.”

You hummed noncommittally, grabbing your phone off the table. “And yet, somehow, I get the feeling you two are going to keep going until sunrise.”

Satoru gasped dramatically. “You wound me. What kind of degenerates do you take us for?”

Suguru gave him a side-eye. “Don’t answer that.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. There was something so easy about this, about them. It wasn’t lost on you that they were both dangerous in their own way. It was one that was dazzling and reckless, the other being composed and calculating. And yet, here you were, caught between the two worlds, happy to want to see more.

“Well, it’s been fun, distinguished gentlemen, but your lady needs beauty rest.” you announced, stepping back. “Can’t have this Best Actress haggard on the screens.”

Suguru raised a brow. “Need someone to walk you back?”

You smirked. “What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

Satoru grinned, his tone teasing. “Oh, we know you can handle yourself. But I’d feel bad if someone else tried to steal our star of the night before the morning came.”

You shook your head at them, amused. “I think I’ll manage. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

Suguru lifted his glass in a silent toast, and Satoru shot you a wink. You snickered at their partings.

“No promises, sweetheart.”

YOU WERE SURE THAT EVERYONE DIDN’T LIKE YOU AT THIS MOMENT. But you think it got worse when everything was announced. Needless to say, it was something that came with fame. Now more so with the interweb. People like to go crazy with everything and anything they see, like a flock of crows pestering for that new shiny thing.

The internet absolutely had a meltdown. Not because you were a bad person or that you were a bad actress. To be honest, not because of anything you did. But because of something you had to do (and particularly, wanted to do for yourself). They just could not help themselves. How could they?

The announcement alone in bright big bold letters—GETO SUGURU CASTING BEST ACTRESS AS HIS ONE AND ONLY LOVER IN HIS UPCOMING MUSIC VIDEO DROP—was truly enough to send fans into a wild frenzy. But then came the real bombshell.

There were intimacy scenes.

The teaser dropped with a single frame: you and Suguru, standing very close under the vibrant echo of those dim hitting neon lights as they glowed for you somberly, tenderly.

His muscular hand resting at the small of your back, your tender fingers curled into the front of his shirt. His face was mere inches from yours, his dark lilac eyes locked onto your plump lips like he was moments away from closing the distance. From doing what was forbidden. 

As you can tell, the internet imploded.

“WE WON. I REPEAT, WE WON.”

“This isn’t even a rumor anymore. It’s evidence.”

“Nah cause all the men in this world have  to be somewhere LOSING THEIR MINDS.”

“Geto Suguru’s so smooth with it. This is insane behavior.” 

“Nah, cause at this point, how can any other fanboy survive this?”

But of course, nothing sent people spiraling harder than the behind-the-scenes clips that started surfacing a few days later.

Behind the Scenes Footage – Interview Clip

The camera carefully pans to you, as you seated comfortably into your own cast chair, the set glowing in the background. You were still dressed in your costume after all this time. It was hours and hours into the set filming and yet your makeup remained blinding, your outfit continued to be carefully styled to match the aesthetic of the video. You were just drop–dead gorgeous.

"So, how does it feel working on a music video with Geto Suguru?" the interviewer asked. “Is it different from all your other works before?”

You smiled. "Oh, it's been great. Suguru's an incredible artist, and getting to bring his vision to life has been such a cool experience. In some ways, yes, it is different. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fun, exciting vibe on set before."

From off-camera, a voice interrupted—smooth, teasing. "Suguru? You only call me that when you're being professional, don’t you?"

The camera turned just in time to catch Geto Suguru walking over, his usual lazy smirk in place, a cup of hot coffee in one hand. He carefully extended it to you wordlessly, like this was routine. You took it without hesitation, muttering a quiet thanks.

"We are on set, aren't we?" you shot back playfully.

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "She’s acting like we haven’t been friends. I am wounded, you guys. Really!"

The interviewer jumped on that. "So you’d say you’re just good friends?"

"Absolutely." you replied smoothly, giving the camera an easy smile.

Suguru grinned at the camera. “One hundred percent.”

That would’ve been enough to cool down the firestorm. 

Behind the Scenes Footage – Scene Rehearsal

The video opened with you and Suguru standing in the middle of the set, the director adjusting the lighting. You were supposed to be blocking a moment from the music video—a near-kiss scene, the tension at its peak. The director gave his cue.

You took a step forward, Suguru’s hand instinctively finding your waist. Your breath hitched just slightly at his action, though you were not from nerves. It just felt natural. You just know it was because he was good at this. The way he looked at you, the way his fingers barely pressed against your skin, the way his head tilted just enough to make it look too real.

Then—"CUT!"

The director reset the scene, and the moment was broken. But before the cameras stopped rolling, Geto Suguru leaned down, voice low but very much caught on the mic. "You good?"

You nodded, stepping back with a teasing grin. "What, you nervous? Didn’t take you for a rookie now."

He huffed a laugh. "Not even a little. Just making sure you don’t fall for me on set."

You rolled your eyes. "Please. You wish."

And just like that, the internet broke again.

"Just good friends BUT YOU SEE HOW HE LOOKS AT HER???"

"I know acting when I see it, and THAT was NOT acting."

"I bet her significant is somewhere watching this like 👁️👄👁️."

"WHY is there more chemistry in this behind-the-scenes clip than in some actual romance films???"

"They are making me insane. Just date already."

But despite the theories, the conspiracies, the undeniable fire in every interaction, you never said anything else. You were too good at that. You were too good at hiding away and never revealing more than what you wanted anyone and everyone to know.

After all, you were an actress. And you wouldn’t be good at your job if you weren’t this good at keeping things underwraps. When asked in another interview about the rumors?

You just smiled. "Spoilers."

And when Geto Suguru was asked later on?

He just smirked. "She said it best."

The mystery continues on and on.

THIS WAS NOT AN EXPECTED ROUTE. People thought that things would remain as they were after you broke the world. But the moment the casting announcement dropped, the internet lost once again its mind. You just couldn’t help it. You just liked making the headlines once and a little while. You wanted to make the mundane a little bit more interesting. Well, in the right times.

SUPER MODEL GOJO SATORU TO DEBUT IN ACTING—ROM COM FILM WITH OSCAR WINNING ACTRESS [YOUR NAME] THIS UPCOMING FALL!

Your name and his were plastered across every headline, every social media platform buzzing with excitement and speculation. It was damn crazy, perhaps just as crazy as what happened with Suguru. You were already a household name, but Gojo Satoru? Satoru was on a whole other level. He was more than a phenomenon. He was a lifestyle. He was a life. 

The runway darling, the face of every luxury campaign, the man who could sell out a designer collection just by breathing near it. And now? He was stepping into your world. And he was doing it right beside you. He knew you were the one who called the shots here. 

After all, you were the mystique of the world. You were the wonder that kept on dazzling. It’s not likely for you to stop. If anything, he wanted to help you with that. You just had to lead the way. He’s going to follow you, happily so.

Behind the Scenes – Press Conference

The first time you and Gojo Satoru appeared together for promotions, the energy in the room was undeniable. It was addicting. It was almost palpable, almost too unbearably dazzling. Satoru was dressed in an effortlessly tailored suit, leaned lazily into his mic, smirking like he already knew what was coming.

The moderator smiled. "So, Mr. Gojo, this is your first film. What was it like acting alongside Oscar winning actress [Your Name], who’s already such an established star?"

Satoru turned to you immediately, tilting his head with a teasing grin. "Honestly? Kinda unfair."

You raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Unfair? Do tell why so, Mr. Gojo. Your senpai would like to know more about it."

He nodded, sighing dramatically. "Yeah. Like, here I am, my first time on a film set, and I’m acting with someone who already has awards and critical acclaim. Obviously, people are going to compare us. It’s like trying to learn how to swim next to an Olympic gold medalist."

The audience laughed. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "You do realize people have been calling you the cinematic face of the decade right?"

Satoru gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Aww, were you keeping up with my press, sweetheart? That’s absolutely making my heart jump right now."

You scoffed. "It was kind of hard to avoid."

The reporters were eating up your chemistry. Cameras continued to flash brightly, fingers typed furiously on keyboards, trying to get every bit of your words in for this hot headliner. Then, of course, someone asked the question everyone had been waiting for.

"You two seem really comfortable together. There have been a lot of rumors about your closeness. Can you comment on that?"

Gojo Satoru didn't even hesitate. He turned to you, grinning. "Well, if I say we’re just good friends, will you tell me I have to try harder?"

You blinked, thrown off for exactly half a second before regaining your composure. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, you responded. "I think you already know the answer to that. You’re well too aware of what I have to say. In depth too, kouhai."

The white haired man couldn’t help but light up, throwing his head back with a laugh brightly at your words. Almost as though he was just lost into the world of your comebacks. It was like each word you breathed was something he giggled for, like it was worth losing composure for.  The audience went insane.

The headlines that followed? Even worse.

"Oh, this movie promo tour is about to be SO unserious."

"We’re never getting a straight answer out of them, are we?"

"Not Gojo openly flirting in front of an entire press panel HELP."

"Geto is 100% watching this like 👁️👄👁️."

"This is Geto's villain origin story."

“Bro is literally kicking his feet and giggling so bad like hes down BADDDDDD”

On Set

The chemistry was even worse when the cameras started rolling. It didn’t matter if it was a simple dialogue scene or a moment dripping with tension. Gojo Satoru was just quite natural in front of the camera, and the way he played off you? It was magic. One they had never seen before. One that was just too good to deny.

One particular scene had the entire crew buzzing, though.

The lighting was soft, intimate. You were standing close, your character meant to be arguing with him, but somehow, the space between you kept shrinking and shrinking. Little by little, nothing was left but the flesh was nearly touching. Like you were just longing to be close. Like you were longing to blend into one.

You could feel your breath hitching as you looked at him. The dialogue called for intense tension, but the way Satoru’s own voice dropped just slightly, the way his fingers brushed the bare skin of your wrist like it was an accident—it felt real. Way too real.

"Cut!"

The director sounded thrilled. His vision was coming to life. He patted Satoru’s back before smiling down at you. He moved away, walking towards the camera director to check the footage. You stepped back, shaking off the lingering heat, but Satoru? He couldn’t help but just smirk.

Leaning down, he murmured. "Careful, sweetheart. People might think you actually like me."

You scoffed with amusement, shoving his shoulder. "I should be saying that to you."

Satoru chuckled, the sound low and teasing as he straightened up. “Oh, but I do like you.” he said smoothly, tilting his head. “I think that’s the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. It wasn’t your fault. The way he played his roles, the way he blurred the line between acting and reality. The way everything was just as it was.

It was real, it was so tangible, so within the reach of your hands. You just couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by him. He had a presence that was impossible to ignore, and the worst part? He knew it.

“Lucky for you, I’m a professional.” you shot back, crossing your arms. “I don’t fall for co-stars.”

His smirk widened, bright blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Mm, that so, sweetheart?” He took a step closer, just enough to toe the line between playful and dangerous. “Because I gotta say, you looked pretty into it just now.”

You scoffed, brushing past him, ignoring the way your pulse skipped slightly. “That’s called acting, Satoru. Maybe try it sometime.”

His laughter brightly followed you as you walked off, but you didn’t have to turn around to know he was still watching. From the corner of the set, a familiar voice cut in. You could tell the tenor was smooth and dangerously amused. 

"Funny. I was just about to say the same thing."

You turned around, your ears almost perking. 

Standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable—Geto Suguru.

The internet?

It was going crazy.

Your breath hitched for just a second before you masked it with a slow blink, shifting your gaze from Satoru to Suguru. He stood there, arms crossed, his dark lilac eyes sharp, unreadable. You were in quite the predicament.

"Didn't realize you were watching." you said smoothly, though the sudden shift in energy between the three of you was impossible to ignore.

Suguru tilted his head slightly, his expression giving nothing away. "Didn't realize I had to announce myself, doll.

Satoru let out a low whistle, stepping back just slightly, as if enjoying the scene from the sidelines. "Ooooh, this just got interesting."

OF COURSE, THIS OPENED THE WORLD TO SOMETHING NEW WHEN IT CAME TO YOU. It was just a fun little thing, trying to play a guessing game when it came to you, Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru. And it didn’t help that you were all helping play the games by fanning the flames to the rumors that came one after the other.

Not when you were spotted at that Paris fashion show sitting between Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, whispering things that made them laugh while cameras flashed like crazy. Not when some mysterious hand appeared in your Instagram stories. Those fingers being decked out in rings that fans quickly identified as Suguru’s own.

Not even when Satoru posted a very blurry photo of you and Suguru sitting in a hotel room, the caption reading: “Multi Oscar winner, chart-topping Grammy winner, and me, a humble model. What a trio.”

Every year, the internet collects all the evidence about the three of you. And every year, you three gave them more and more to have fun with.

The Timeline of Chaos

1. The Infamous Concert Incident

The world lost it when you and Satoru randomly showed up at Suguru’s sold-out stadium concert, in one of those VIP boxes. The fans were certain that Suguru made sure you had a spot just for the two of you, and quite close to him too. It was really obvious. 

It wasn’t the fact that you attended. It was the fact that, mid-performance, Geto Suguru went ahead and walked straight to where you two were sitting, smirked, and sang directly to you. And Satoru? Instead of looking jealous, he just threw an arm around you, grinning like he had front-row seats to the greatest show on earth.

"No, because what are we supposed to DO with this information?"

"Is Satoru just watching Suguru serenade [Your Name] like he's a proud husband???"

"I fear we are witnessing a love story unfold in real time."

2. The Vacation Photos That Weren’t Meant to Be Seen

One summer, paparazzi caught the three of you on vacation. It was not out of the ordinary for you. You always went on various trips everywhere with your friends, whether celebrity or not. But there was something different when you were with Suguru and Satoru. This particularly was a different trip from the rest.

You, Suguru, and Satoru, were on a private beach. Satoru eagerly grinned in the morning sunrise in sunglasses and swim trunks, carrying you over his shoulder while you screamed in protest, dressed in your bikini. Suguru was in the background, laughing, sipping a drink like this was an everyday occurrence. The photos hit the tabloids immediately.

"HOLLYWOOD’S FRIENDLIEST TRIO OR IS IT SOMETHING MORE?"

You? You just posted a blurry selfie of the three of you later that night, captioned: “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Satoru, sulking, commented: “They’re bullying me.”

Suguru smugly replied: “You deserve it.”

3. The Red Carpet Moment That Ended Everyone

The biggest nail in the coffin to the public however was that one awards show in England. You were presenting an award, Satoru was invited as a guest and Suguru was nominated. The camera panned to you on the red carpet, glowing, stunning, an absolute vision. And then—Enter Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

Satoru was striding up behind you with the confidence of someone who knew he was about to make headlines. Suguru was walking just a step behind, looking way too pleased with himself. And the way they flanked you? Like it was meant to be.

The interviewer looked at you, and then the boys. "You three are always spotted together. Should we be expecting a project soon?"

You smiled slyly. "Spoilers."

Satoru grinned. "You should know by now we don’t just give answers that easily."

Suguru just chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s more fun watching you all guess, after all."

And just like that, the internet once again erupted.

"THEY KNOW WHAT THEY’RE DOING."

"I CANNOT handle this trio anymore."

"Are they dating? Are they best friends? Are they just trying to send us into cardiac arrest???"

But no matter how many times people asked, no matter how much speculation spread—the only answer any of you ever gave was a smirk. And your boys on the leash? They were just as willing to play the game with you. The night ended with that infamous maddening vague tweet from you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

THIS WAS THE WORLD ONLY THE THREE OF YOU KNOW. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. You, Geto Suguru, and Gojo Satoru stood in a triangle, passionate eyes locked onto each other. Suguru’s smirk was devilish and excited, his lilac eyes gleaming with mischief. Satoru’s blue gaze was intense, a silent challenge passing between the three of you. The tension was palpable, electricity crackling in the air. 

Suddenly, Suguru seamlessly reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. Satoru’s hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him.Their touches sent shivers down your spine, your heart racing with excitement and nerves. Even after so many times, it keeps bringing you the fire you wanted to burn in.

Suguru’s touch was gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing the contours of your face. Satoru’s grip on your waist tightened, his thumb brushing against the small of your back. The contrast between their touches was intoxicating, sending conflicting signals to your brain. Geto leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. 

"You look delicious, doll." he whispered, his voice low and husky. The white haired man’s lips curled into a smirk, his blue eyes never leaving yours.

"Let's see how much you can handle tonight, though. You’ve been overworked, haven’t you, our poor baby?" Satoru cooes, his hand slowly sliding up your side. The air grew thicker, the tension almost unbearable

“Yes….” You mewled as you drew your body closer to his. “Need something good right now, ‘toru. Please.”

The blue eyed man smirk widened as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were firm yet soft, moving against yours with expert precision. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth. Meanwhile, Suguru’s lips tenderly found your neck, his kisses starting at your collarbone and trailing up. 

His teeth grazed your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Satoru’s soft hands tangled in your brazen hair, deepening the kiss. Meanwhile, you could feel Suguru’s fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him. 

The sensations you were feeling were just overwhelming, when you three are in need of relief like this. Everything from start to finish finds your mind fogging with desire. There was nothing that could stop you when you’ve begun. 

You pulled away from Satoru’s searing kiss, your breath coming in short gasps. Suguru’s dark lilac eyes darkened even more with desire as you turned to him, pressing your lips against his and leaned in eagerly for a deep wanton kiss. 

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue tangled with yours. You could feel the tickle of Satoru’s lips trailed down your neck, his peppering kisses becoming more fervent as he reached your chest.

Satoru expertly unhooked your bra with ease. He looked at your breasts for a moment, basking in the wonder of such marvel before him. He smiles to himself as he leans forward, his bruising lips wrapping around one of your nipples.

You moan as his tongue circled the hardened peak, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Suguru’s hands roamed your back, his fingers digging into your skin as you both kissed over and over. 

Suguru’s hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.You could only groan in pleasure as Satoru’s lips continued their assault on your chest, his tongue teasing your nipples even further as he passionately moved deeper and deeper into the depths of you. 

The sensations were overwhelming, your mind fogging with desire. Suguru’s calloused fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down. Satoru’s hands followed suit, his touch grazing your thighs. Soon enough, you too needed air and parted from your lover. You looked at him with lust-ridden eyes.

They worked in sync, almost too well as they continued removing your clothing piece by piece until you stood bare before them. Suguru’s eyes raked over your body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with arousal. You whimper as Satoru releases your nipple. You looked at it, finding it quite the little red thing as he smiles at you. 

“Lovely little red.” He whispers to you, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be a good boy tonight. Saved the other one for ‘guru.”

Suguru snickered. “Only right for me to have some claim, don’t I?”

“It’s time for you two to kiss like good boys then.” You whispered to your lovers, slowly laying down upon the bed. Your elbows are still propping you up. “You would do it, won’t you?”

They looked at each other, before snickering as they got closer. You stepped back, watching as Geto and Gojo's lips met in a fierce kiss. Their tongues clashed, hands gripping each other tightly, passionately, eagerly. The bed creaked slightly as you lowered down onto the pillow and enjoyed their desire for one another.

The sight was incredibly arousing, their lust for one another was too obvious and palpable. You were sure to get it going too as you kept your legs together, your arousal echoing down below. You bit your lip as Satoru’s hands slid down to Suguru’s chest, his tender fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. Suguru then broke the kiss, panting heavily. He grabbed Satoru’s wrist, stopping his movements.

"Not yet, Satoru." The dark haired man said, his voice husky with desire. He turned to you, his eyes burning with lust. “Need to do something first, don’t you think?”

Satoru looked at him and then to you. He slyly grinned. “Of course. Lady’s first.”

"Come here, doll." he commanded, pulling you back into the circle. Satoru’s lips quickly found your neck again, his kisses trailing down to your chest. “Need to love you first.”

Suguru’s hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Satoru’s tender lips continued their assault on your chest, his tongue teasing his claimed nipple. The sensations were overwhelming, your mind fogging with desire. 

You could feel Suguru’s hands gripping your hips, lifting you effortlessly closer to his side of the bed. Satoru crawled in after you, his body pressing against your side. Suguru carefully climbed on top, his knees on either side of your hips. He leaned down, his lips hovering over yours. 

"Tell us what you want, doll." he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

Satoru’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingers brushing against your core. "We'll give you anything you want. Just ask with your words, sweetheart." he murmured, his lips trailing kisses along your neck. 

The air was thick with never ending tension, the anticipation to get closer and rougher was almost unbearable. You felt Suguru’s lips crash against yours once again, his kiss brutally demanding another passionate liaison with your bruising lips. 

Satoru’s fingers parted your folds, his touch gentle yet firm. You groan against Suguru’s lips as Satoru slowly circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp over and over again. Suguru’s warm hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. 

He broke the kiss, his bruising lips trailing down your neck and chest. Satoru’s fingers slipped inside you rather easily, pumping slowly, in and out, watching your face pleasured with his touch. Suguru’s mouth then closed around his claimed nipple, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. The sensations were overwhelming, your body arching off the bed.

"Fuck, you're so wet, sweetheart." Gojo groaned, his fingers curling inside you. 

Suguru’s lips popped off your nipple, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your skin. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your chest.

“Uh, uh—” You mewled as you tried to push your hips closer, deep into their fingers. “Please….”

"You like having both of us touch you like this, huh?" His own hand slid down, his fingers eagerly joining Satoru’s in pleasuring you. 

“She’s so wet, ‘guru. It’s making me hard, what the fuck…..”

"Tell us what you want, doll. Use your words." Suguru demanded, his lilac eyes locked onto yours.

"Tell us how you want us to fuck you, sweetheart." You felt the pressure of Satoru’s thumb pressed against your clit, his fingers pumping faster. 

“I….I… I want….”

"We'll do anything you ask." he promised, his voice husky with desire.

"Please." you gasped, your hips bucking against their hands. "I want you both inside me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me completely." 

Suguru’s eyes darkened at your words, a feral grin spreading across his face. “But be patient first, doll. Need to make sure you cum first.”

You suddenly felt Suguru’s calloused fingers pick up speed, rubbing your clit in tight circles. Satoru’s fingers pumped in and out of you alongside Suguru’s, his touch firm and steady.

Their movements synchronized, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. Suguru leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. You groaned hard, feeling the pressure mount down below. 

"Come on, doll." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Show us how much you want it."

Satoru pressed against your clit, his fingers curling inside you. The double stimulation was overwhelming, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. You incoherently mewl against their arms, feeling your body move against their touch to continue the friction.

 "That's it, good job." Satoru encouraged, his voice husky." Let go for us."

Their fingers moved faster, pushing you over the precipice. Your body soon convulsed, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Suguru’s massive fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure. Satoru’s own fingers pumped slowly, his touch gentler now. You could feel pleasure build and built within you, like a dam ready to burst.

“I…I–I’m…. c–coming, ‘guru, ‘toru!”

“You’re doing a good job, doll. Come for us, come for us.”

Suguru’s fingers moved faster, his touch relentless. Satoru’s fingers pumped slowly, his touch gentler. Your body tensed, pleasure building to an overwhelming crescendo. Your sounds harmonized so beautifully to the sound of that slick that draws from within your crevices.

"That's it, doll." Suguru encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Come for us."

Satoru’sthumb pressed against your clit, his fingers curling inside you. The added stimulation pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it.

"Fuck, yes!" Suguru growled, his fingers continuing their relentless pace. 

Satoru’s fingers continued to pump slowly and then soon enough getting in the pace the dark haired man was, drawing out your pleasure until it hit the crescendo.

It goes on and on until you find yourself breaking into overstimulation and growing limp in their touch, the mess of your pleasure soaking you and their fingers. 

"You're so beautiful when you come." he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. As your orgasm subsided, you felt their fingers withdraw slowly. “So so beautiful.”

Satoru withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck clean. "Delicious." he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just delicious.”

"Beautiful." Suguru whispers as he too cleans your slick from his fingertips. Suguru’s free hand then slid up your body, his fingers tracing your collarbone. "You're so responsive, aren’t you, doll? Good job." he praised, his voice low and satisfied. 

“So good….” You all but say. “I’m…I need…”

“You need what, sweetheart?”

“I….I need more.” You finally catch yourself saying. “Need…need you, need you so badly. Please.”

Suguru’s eyes darkened at your words, a smirk playing on his lips. "More, huh?" he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh. 

Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with desire. "What do you need more of, exactly?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Their touches were gentle yet firm, igniting your skin wherever they landed. Suguru’s lips brushed against your ear. You could feel your sweat fall as he moved closer, his breath bellowing hotly against you.

Then your lover bit the side of your ear affectionately, whispering sweet nothings to you, before pressing a kiss. You cry in pleasure as he proceeds to nibble on the side of your neck, readily leaving hickeys to the side. 

Satoru watches on the side, letting his hand touch the growing imprint of his member in front of him. He could feel it hurt as he watched you combust in the touch of your other lover. He mewls as he lets his palm brush against the cloth which separates the pleasure and pain growing inside of him.

"Tell us what you want." Satoru whispered, moving closer as his breath hot against your skin. "We'll give you anything."

You felt the white haired man’s hand slide up your stomach, his delicate fingers tracing your ribs and then your sides. It was as if he was memorizing them, to let them burn into his memory for until the next time. He lets the perfectness of your body pleasure his eyes as he wallows in the thought of wanting to be inside of you.

"Everything, sweetheart." he added, his voice dripping with promise. "Just say the word." 

The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with tension. You felt your eyes turn to the growing members against their clothes, wanting to be free. You don’t think you’ve ever been this hungry in your entire life. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more than to be fucked into a doozy.

You then turned to meet their gaze. "I want you both so bad. Want you both inside me."

Your dark haired lover couldn’t help but feel his smirk widen his hand gripping your hip possessively. "Is that so?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. 

Satoru’s blue eyes flashed with desire, his hand sliding down to palm his own length through his pants. "We can tell, sweetheart." he said, his voice low and husky. "The way you're looking at us, like you want to devour us whole into your cunny, into your backhole."

“Want you….want you to use me.” You whimper, almost pathetically. “Want you both inside….”

Suguru felt his eyes darkened at your words, a wicked grin blossoming on his lips. "Use you, huh?" he repeated, his voice low and amused. 

Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with desire."In what way, exactly?" he asked, his tone dripping with promise. Suguru’s hand slid down your stomach, his fingers tracing your hips 

"Want us to fuck you senseless?" he suggested, his touch firm. Satoru’s warm hand gripped your thigh, his nails digging into the skin.

"Or maybe you want us to mark you, claim you as ours?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Everything.” You cried out. “Everything and more. Please. Just….”

Suguru’s massive length pressed against your entrance, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Satoru’s hands spread your legs wider, his own hips positioning himself at your backside. You could feel the heat radiating off their bodies, the anticipation building to an unbearable level. 

Your dark haired lover’s voice was strained as he asked. "Are you sure about this, doll? We're not exactly in the mood to be... gentle."

Satoru’s fingers teased your back entrance with his fingers, earning moans from you as he was applying gentle pressure with each and every push. "Last chance to back out." he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. 

Their gazes were intense, filled with lust and dominance. It mirrored your own too well as you wrapped your arms around Suguru’s neck, as you leaned closer to Satoru from behind. You mewl as you feel your behind slowly loosen up.

“I want it.” You whisper to them eagerly. “Please, just go inside of me….I want to feel full of you.”

"As you wish, doll." he growled, shifting his position. He gripped your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice strained with anticipation. 

Satoru smiles slyly, his hands spreading your legs wider to give himself room. Adding his own fingers aligns with the tender slope of your backside, pushing in with the ones he had already slicked and kept inside. “Already been here, ‘guru.”

Suguru pushed into you slowly little by little, his thickness stretching you deliciously. A low guttural moan escaped your lips, your back arching off the bed. You whimper as you adjust to being full front and back. 

"Fuck, you're so tight, doll." he groaned, his hips settling against yours. 

"Relax." Satoru murmured, his other hand caressing your side as he goes deeper in your back. "We'll go slow like we always do."

He pushed a finger inside you, moving it in tandem with Suguru’s thrusts. You could feel everything and anything. It was like they were on your throat. The sensation of being filled in both holes was overwhelming, your mind spinning with pleasure. Suguru began to move, his pace finally steady and deep. Satoru carefully added another finger, stretching you further.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." he praised, his breath hot against your ear. "Taking us both like this."

You keen as you felt the depth of Suguru’s hips slammed against yours one after the other, his thick angry cock plunging deep into your soaked pussy deeper than the last.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps. Satoru’s fingers continued pumping in and out  relentlessly of your ass, the stretch burning pleasantly. 

"Look at you." Satoru growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Taking us up like a good little sweetheart, just for me. Just for us.”

Suguru’s hand snaked around, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it roughly, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your back arches once again, your body shaking against the hit of wave after wave of pleasure. The push of his cock, his fingers 

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me, doll. So, so much. God." he choked, the movements of his thrusts becoming erratic. “Your pussy is divine. It's a church down here. I’m being….blessed. Oh fuck, fuck…. So good, so so—”

Satoru’s fingers curled inside you, pressing against your prostate. "Come for us." he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Come all over us like the good girl you are.”

Your body tensed, your orgasm building rapidly. The sweat on your body blending against Suguru’s in a symphonic harmony. You could feel like you were on another planet.

Suguru’s cock inside you and his fingers on your clit and Satoru’s fingers your ass pushed you over the edge. Your tears poured down your face as you felt the bed creak against the wall, in the same pace along with your movements. 

"Fuck! Fuck! Goddddddd…… I'm coming!" you screamed, your pussy clamping down on Suguru’s cock. Your asshole tightened around Satoru’s fingers, pulsing with each wave of pleasure. You choked on your spit. “Oh my godddddd—”

Suguru groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he spilled his hot seed deep inside you."Shit, fuck! Fuck! Yes, yeesssssss! Take it all, doll. Take it alllllll……" he panted, his cock twitching with each spurt. 

Satoru’s fingers kept moving, drawing out your orgasm. "That's it, milk me with these fingers." he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. “Yesssssss…..”

As your orgasm subsided, Suguru refused to leave from within your crevices, small thrusts bringing in his cum inside of you. Soon enough, you felt Satoru remove his fingers from inside of you and started to lick himself clean once again. He smiled at you as you watched him clean himself of you once again as you took your breath.

A little while later, Suguru moves slightly in order to accommodate your other lover. You felt Satoru’s hard length pressing against your stretched backhole. You purse your dry lips into a line as you collect yourself. 

"Ready for more?" he asked, his voice dripping with desire.

“Need you, ‘toru. Bring it on me….” 

He smiles at you. Just as you asked, Satoru pushes his thick cock pushed into your sensitive asshole, stretching you even further. The feeling of being filled in both holes was overwhelming, the pleasure bordering on pain. 

"Too much, too…..tooo full…." you gasped, your body trembling. Suguru hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. “Fuck….can feel you….can feel you on my throat. Both of you….fuckkkkkk….”

"Never too much, doll." he growled, his hips starting to move again. 

His cock slid easily through your dripping pussy once again, coated in his own cum and your juices. Satoru from behind began to thrust, his pace slow but deep, bottoming little by little as he too gained his own speed.

"You can take it, sweetheart. You always have." he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck."You can take us both."

Their movements synchronized, one pushing in as the other pulled out. The sensation of being used, of being a toy for their pleasure, sent your mind spinning. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the overstimulation too intense.

Suguru’s grip on your throat only tightened as he pushed deeper into you, cutting off your air supply. Black spots danced in your vision, the lack of oxygen heightening every sensation.

Gojo Satoru’s thrusts became faster and faster, harshly brushing against you as his cock continued to mercilessly piston in and out of your ass. 

"Look at you, doll." he panted, his voice strained by pleasure. "Taking us so well, even like this. I knew you could. You always do good.”

Suguru’s free hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh. He leaned down, his teeth sinking into the junction of your neck and shoulder. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, brushing into sweet moans and pulsing sweat, flesh against flesh, juices dancing through the crevices of your pleasures.

You knew everything was pushing you closer to the edge. Satoru’s hand snaked around, his fingers finding your clit once more, causing you to tear up from the overwhelming feeling. He pushed deeper into you, groaning as he rubbed just as roughly, his touch demanding your release.

"Come for us, sweet doll." Geto commanded, his voice muffled against your skin. "Come one last time like the good girl you are." 

Your body grew limp as you convulsed, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You scream and scream in pleasure as you felt everything come crashing down on you, burying you in the endless echo in this pandemonium of pleasure.

As your orgasm peaked and pushed, Satoru and Suguru’s movements inside of you became even more erratic. They were so close, so damn close. It just felt good. Too good to be deep in the heat of you. You held tightly onto Suguru, who pushed you closer to Satoru’s back, the echo of Satoru’s thrust pushing you forward to Suguru. And vice versa.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….I’m going to cum again, doll. Fuckkkkkkkk—” Suguru choked on his words as he let his cock push hard one last time before coming inside of you once again. His new burst of hot piping cum pushed out the first one. “Fuck, fuck….so good, so good….”

Satoru soon followed suit, his fingers digging into your hips as he buried himself deep in your ass. "Fuck! shit, shitttttt, you’re too tight. I can’t hold on anymore, sweetheart. Fuckkk, shittttttttt—" 

Your lover roared, his hot seed filling your back up endlessly. Their combined releases painted your skin with afterglow permeating under the sweat of the pressing skin, dirty little secrets, scratching and clawing and marks and blood whispering to the world that you are theirs. 

You go limp in the middle of them, heaving and shaking from the pleasure. Soon enough, Suguru came down from his high and realized he was about to crush you. Suguru pulled out, earning a groan from you. Your dark haired lover carefully collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving. 

Satoru pulled out slowly, a stream of his cum dripping from your well-used back hole. He heaved and shook as he tried to still his body. He lets his fingers push the dripping cum back onto your hole, making you mewl against him. 

“Shhhh, don’t wanna see it to waste, don’t you?”

"Beautiful. You are so so beautiful, doll." Suguru murmured,looking at your fucked out expression as he laid beside you, his fingers tracing the mess on your skin. “Everything we love and more. 

The room was silent except for your ragged breathing and the sound of your hearts pounding. Soon enough, exhaustion becomes of you. You first fell asleep, then Suguru and then Satoru. All three are enveloped into the confines of the love that only belongs to you. And in the whispers of the dark morrow, you would do it again and again, until nothing is left of you to give.

epilogue 

Late Afternoon, the next day;

The world was burning with speculation with everything and anything that is happening over the past few hours. But you? This was not your concern. It never was, not when you had such a fun time last night. After all, you were waking up in a tangle of limbs, warm sheets, and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the remnants of last night.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden lines across the bed. Your body still very much ached in a way that made heat curl in your stomach at the memories. And when you stretched, a low chuckle sounded beside you.

“Well, well….” Satoru’s voice was still husky from sleep, his lips curling against your shoulder. “Sleeping Beauty awakens.”

Before you could roll your eyes, a lazy, calloused hand trailed down your back—Geto Suguru. His touch was deliberate, teasing. “You caused quite the scene last night, doll.” he murmured, voice like silk.

Your brows furrowed for a split second. Until you saw the phone on the bedside table, the screen was still open to the post. The post that had the world on its knees. Your notifications were on fire. Your phone was on Do Not Disturb, but even then, you could see the flood of missed calls, text messages, and thousands—no, millions—of reactions online.

Your name. Their names. Trending in every possible country.

And then there was your Instagram story.

That one, simple sweet dreams had single handedly ended people’s sanity.

You bit back a laugh, running a hand through your hair. 

“Oh?” you mused, “And what exactly did I do?”

Satoru turned you on your back with obscene ease, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “Sweetheart, you knew what you were doing when you reposted that before passing out for the actual time.”

Suguru hummed in agreement, brushing his fingers over your collarbone. “It’s cute how they think they’ll ever get an answer.”

You smirked, stretching out between them. “Well, they’re the ones who keep looking for one.”

"They are EVIL. Absolute MENACES."

 "No bc they’re just playing with us at this point."

 "Why did she repost it like that? WHY."

"‘Sweet dreams’ WHERE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GO FROM HERE???"

"No bc this is Gojo, Geto, and [Your Name]’s world and we are merely struggling to exist in it."

"I fear the love triangle trope is not a love triangle but a polycule and that’s so real and it’s happening in front of us."

Fan edits? Immediate.

Discourse? Relentless.

Your names? Trending for 48 HOURS STRAIGHT.

People scrambled for theories. Some swore it was a joke. Some were convinced it was confirmation of the slowest-burning relationship reveal of the decade. And when you, Satoru, and Suguru resurfaced at an event later that week? Dressed to kill, standing way too close, sharing way too many inside jokes?

You all just smiled all together in front of everyone.

The interviewer tried again. "So, can we talk about that photo?"

Satoru leaned into the mic first, grinning like the devil. "What photo?"

Suguru smirked, tipping his glass in silent mockery. "You’re going to have to be more specific."

And you? 

You just sighed, tilting your head with a teasing smile before repeating the words that had haunted everyone and everyone and their mothers and fathers and anyone else they had known for many more years, just like before.

You slyly smiled. “Guess.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

suguru wakes up, with a jolt, to the sound of a thud and a meek little yelp.

his eyes blink open, like the shutter of an old camera, raven lashes fluttering along — met only with the dim darkness of your bedroom. not quite pitch black, the light of something soon to resemble dawn bleeding in through the closed blinds, a blue kind of hue that doesn’t do much for him. everything is still dark.

but he can make out shapes, see the ceiling above him, and when he turns his head to the right he can see the contours of shoko’s face; fast asleep, snores building up in her throat and spilling from her lips.

(ridiculously cute.)

sadly, suguru doesn’t have time to savour the sight. because it takes him no less than a moment to notice that his other sleepy baby isn’t there at all — he barely even has to look, just feeling the mattress below him, knowing something is missing. he can’t feel at ease unless you’re weighing it down.

”baby…?” he rasps, deep and groggy, body moving on its own. elbows digging into the mattress, lifting himself up — a tug of alarm stirring his heartstrings.

the thud, your absence, the unmistakable yelp.

his muddled mind puts three and three together — and he sluggishly, steadily pulls himself up, almost desperate to locate you, but careful not to wake shoko. he moves elegantly, like a panther, slipping out of bed, bare feet meeting the cold floorboards as he stands up to his full height. hair a mess, a raven’s nest, sweatpants close to slipping off one side of his hips. absently wiping at his bleary eyes.

as soon as he regains his vision, stands up straight — he sees you. lying on the floor, like an abandoned plushie, while the adorable culprit is sprawled out peacefully on the mattress above you. you’re trying to get up, all disoriented and sleepy, and suguru thinks his heart might just melt down to the marrow.

this is exactly why he makes sure to sleep on the edge of the bed, most nights. exactly to prevent this — prevent his lovers from rolling over, tumbling right off. he doesn’t mind sleeping in the middle on days you want one arm each to latch onto, of course not; nothing warms his heart more than having both his babies on either side of him. but it feels good, to be the shield between you and the hardwood floor — making sure neither of you could ever fall off. it feels good, to watch you both nuzzle together like a pair of sleepy kittens. left side, middle, he’s fine with either.

just as long as he can prevent this. having to watch your small, sleepy form paw at the floorboards in search of stability. it breaks his heart in two.

”oh, baby,” he croons, deep and dripping with honey, crouching down beside you. effortless, as he scoops you up into his arms, one of his palms curling around your back — running down your spine.

and your eyes flutter open. hazy eyes, blinking at him, gaze almost absent, like you’re not quite sure what you’re looking at; but you’re already leaning into his touch, muscles softening, as if your very essence knows you’re safe. in his arms, in his lap.

it makes him want to cry.

(it makes him want to give you everything.)

he wastes no time in securing you, arms under your legs and behind your back as he stands up again. cradling you close, letting out a quiet coo, as if shushing a disgruntled child. the fall must have woken you up, poor thing. he wishes he could be angry with shoko, but she looks too sweet, when she’s so deeply asleep; drooling a little, groaning out something that sounds like a name. he only shakes his head, still rubbing gentle circles into your back.

”what a little bully, huh…?” 

no response. you’re already starting to nod off, again, and so he gets back into bed — guiding you to rest against the wall, safe and secure, where no sleepy girlfriends can get to you. tucking you in under his chin, making sure you’re comfortable against him.

(your shield, always. that’s all he wants to be.)

his lips find their way onto your forehead, pressing a gentle kiss between your brows. soft and chaste, holding you snugly, so eager to dote on you. his heart is still bleeding with tenderness, he can’t keep it in, it’s leaking all over the mattress and urging him to hold you tighter against his ribs. he thinks of how confused you must have been, waking up on the floor, wonders if you hurt your head on the way down — pressing another kiss there, for good measure. 

sweetly, sleepily, your lips curl up into a smile. 

a yawn slips past your lips, as you nuzzle into him, cheek all squished against his cushiony chest. looking so pleased that he almost wonders if this was your plan all along, a way to get all his attention.

suddenly, a weight drapes itself against his spine.

while he’s busy coaxing you back to sleep, he feels it; a sleepy murmur, muffled right against his bare skin, as a pair of lanky arms wrap around his waist. her voice is so raspy he just barely picks up on it, but his ears are attuned to every sound she makes.

shoko stirs behind him, fingers digging into his hips.

”… give ’em back…”

… his brows furrow.

”thief,” she yawns, again, all groggy and gruff. so, so silly. ”give them back… you’re so greedy…”

a raise of his brow, as he breathes out a scoff. ”you kicked them off the bed, you know…”

shoko only breathes out another groggy grumble, in response; her lanky arms tugging at his shoulders, using them as leverage to drag herself over his body and closest to the wall. he only lets out an amused huff, letting her manhandle him a bit — letting her snuggle up to you, warming your back. suguru feels himself smiling. watching you squirm, when her short, auburn strands tickle your sensitive collarbone, when she sighs into your neck. right in the middle of the two, right where you should be.

right where you belong.

he leans forward, brushes the curtain of your bangs away from your face, plants his lips against your forehead; smears a kiss against shoko’s cheek. he can’t help himself but to fall into you, breathe in the scent of your moisturizer, fading citrus drops and coconut oil. can’t help himself but to love you.

(his angels, he thinks, the word stuck on his tongue. his reason to be.)

suguru hugs you both close, now separating you fully from the edge of the bed, the chilly mahogany floor just waiting for impact. like the steady wall he always yearns to be, your ever-eager guard dog, even in your sleep. he’d like to jump into your dreams, make sure they treat you kindly — but he can’t. 

so this will have to do.

with a sigh, his lashes flutter shut. eyes drooping, every muscle in his body beginning to relax, sink into the mattress below. you’re safe, and shoko’s safe. that’s enough to put his heart deliriously at ease.

with the dark blue shade of the almost-morning sky bleeding in through the window’s glass, the city fast asleep beyond it — suguru closes his eyes. he whispers, breathes a silent prayer into the top of your head. he hopes you can still hear it, that it can bring you both solace, that his wish will come true.

”sweet dreams, my angels.”

(that’s all he could ask for.)

[ohimsummer]

Hiii no pressure but whenever you do another satosugu texts could you do one where the reader is jealous of someone flirting with the boys while at the mall?

— minors dni, poly! stsg, jealous! reader, crack, cw satoru, fuck it cw suguru too

📱: : @anthoosies @staryukis @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @hellkaiserinphoenix @astral-hydromancy @bookswillfindyouaway @rosso-seta @sugurubabe @soraya-daydreams @arthurschneider @venzlenes @khaothick @haruchiy0 @sillysushi @hobarihope @crocodilethesir @starlightanyaaa @reodiaries @spicana @lovley212 @katharinasdiaryy @ninikrumbs @imaniitheoneee @tojislittleprincess @puppyminnnie @pinkfqiry @getoloverr @blindbabycadder @littlemissfix-itfic @luvr-exe @snackeyalleyjuice @apatauaia @trafalgarrattata @sataraxia @elleflying07 @toptierbunny @purplegemadventures @whokilledvivi @getouolgy @exinqiu @flvffybunny @leilalilox @babytoshiii @idkluvv @froggkat @princ3ss-juicy @starsharkz @zzzlevislothzzz @sugu-love @peachyaone @squishies0102 @ivy-vivii @mynahx3 @ratedrrrr @ha-zel-art

[suguru-getos]

satosugu when you get your period ->

a/n: on my period and want my men spoiling <3 mentions of fluff, period sex etc!!

-> precisely tweaking. they don’t even pretend that it’s a normal/casual thing which comes every month. suguru hates the way your mood turns into a low graph 📉 and he takes is sooooo personally :( he’s like, “angel- is there anything you’d like? maybe some waffles? maybe something else? what can i do to help make it better?” tweaking like a mother hen.

-> satoru gets you plushie heating bags because of course they are 💯 times cuter and his babygirl shouldn’t have anything except cute things. he’s definitely going to get you a kuromi, panda plushie, or something along those lines so you look cutesy in your little blanket with a plushie bag on your pelvis.

-> you love chocolates & suguru knows you do. there are sometimes entire goodies in your refrigerator because his little moonshine angel goddess SHOULD have chocolates duh??? you could find high end brands because he really thinks there must be something taste related otherwise why would they be so expensive? imported chocolates ftw 🙌

-> “you know princess, orgasms help~” satoru chirps shamelessly, he don’t care: 🤷🏻‍♀️ and it’s like extra lube for him anyways. 😏 you’d find him fucking the cramping out of your uterus over and over. he loves to see you whimper in pleasure not pain ‼️ like a good boyfriend should. suguru is nasty too, but it is also :3 on another level. he wants to have a go after satoru’s done with you so you just feel his girthier member stretch you out, mouth agape and sobbing in pleasure perhaps. ;)

-> god forbid if you actually stain your exclusive favorite undies then they would take you to shop asap. they know that mild feeling of regret IS NOT NEEDED in the satosugu household. be prepared for replacement immediately. <33

-> suguru hates it when things make you cry during this phase, so you’d find him exta clingy and touchy. eager to comfort, eager to provide you hugs and cuddles. the warmth of his hand kneading your pelvis and humming softly. he loves to see how his presence alone comforts you to a great degree & you end up napping over his chest.

[cumironi]

THE ONE WITH THE PRANKS : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

living with you is all fun and games. . . until you start pulling all of these harmless pranks on them.

w/c : 4,1k

warning : fluff

[☆] MASTERLIST

CRACK MY NECK, BABE?

you were sprawled on your bed, scrolling through your phone and idly passing the time. as you flipped through various videos, you stumbled upon one where a girl pulled an elaborate prank on her boyfriend by pretending he had accidentally broken her neck. the sheer shock on his face made you burst into laughter.

a mischievous idea sparked in your mind: what if you pranked suguru geto? his usual softness, gentleness, and delicate demeanor would make for a perfect reaction. the thought of him panicking over a broken neck scenario seemed both hilarious and irresistible.

feeling a rush of excitement, you decided to act on your idea. you got up from your bed and headed to the kitchen. you found some raw pasta and stuffed it into your cheeks, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous you must look. the hard pasta pieces poked uncomfortably, but the anticipation made it worth it.

with a mischievous grin on your face, you made your way to the living room. there you found geto and gojo in their usual spots— geto was engrossed in a book, while gojo was lazily watching tv. you could hardly contain your laughter as you approached them, knowing that your prank was about to unfold.

“love, can you crack my neck?” you ask him.

geto paused for a moment, looking up from the book he was reading. he studied your face for a second, noticing your slightly puffed cheeks. a mixture of confusion and concern crossed his usually calm expression. “crack your neck?” he repeated, his voice tinged with uncertainty. meanwhile, gojo, ever observant even in his lazy state, looked over at you, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.

geto closed his book, resting it in his lap as he gave you his full attention. his eyes searched yours, trying to decipher the situation. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his tone gentle yet cautionary. meanwhile, gojo's lazy interest quickly turned into intrigue. he sat up slightly on the couch, no longer paying attention to the tv show he had been watching.

you nod, “yes, my love.”

you walk over to him and sit on his lap with your back facing him. “i've been feeling pain in my neck these past few weeks,” you pretend to complain with fake pain in your voice. geto's expression softened as you settled onto his lap, facing away from him. he gently placed his hands on your hips, steadying you. “why didn't you tell me earlier?” he asked, his concern growing at your complaint. his hands move to the base of your neck, tenderly massaging the area.

“it was nothing, i just wanted you to crack my neck,” you told him, still persistent on him cracking your neck. geto's brows furrowed a bit at your insistence, but his touch remained gentle and hesitant. as his fingers continued their careful massage, he spoke in a low, slightly worried tone, “are you sure this is the best way to deal with it? i don't want to hurt you, my love.”

you hummed softly, “yes, i'm pretty sure, baby.”

despite his initial hesitation, geto sighed softly and relented. he knew you could be stubborn when you wanted something. “alright, but please tell me if it hurts, okay? i'll be careful,” he reminded you, his voice tender but firm. gojo, now fully engrossed in the unfolding scene, leaned forward on the couch, his eyes fixed on you both.

you only nodded, don't really have faith in yourself if you open your mouth. geto takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what he's about to do. with one hand still resting on your hip, he carefully encircles your neck with the other hand. “ready?” he asks, his voice laced with both concern and determination. you only give your boyfriend a gentle nod as an answer.

with your confirmation, geto's grip around your neck tightens slightly. using a well-practiced motion, he applies a controlled, yet precise pressure to your neck, attempting to crack it. meanwhile, gojo, who had been silently watching, leans even more forward, his eyes wide in anticipation.

there's a sudden, loud cracking sound as it responds to the manipulation— but instead of it from your neck, it is actually from the raw pasta you just bite inside your cheeks. your body falls on the floor with hard tud and geto gasps in horror.

gojo is stunned into silence as the loud crack rings through the room. his eyes widen even further, his mouth hanging open in shock. geto, however, is horrified. he jumps up from the couch, his eyes fixed on you lying motionless on the floor. he drops to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he gently turns you over.

“no, no, no, no,” geto mutters under his breath, his voice filled with disbelief and panic. he frantically checks your breathing, his hands shaking as he brushes your hair away from your face.

“fuck, i'm sorry baby, fuck—”

meanwhile, gojo has leaped off the couch and rushed over to you, dripping with sheer panic. geto's touch is urgent and desperate as he searches for any sign of life. his eyes never leave your face, his own breath coming in short, ragged gasps. gojo kneels down beside geto, his usual confident demeanor nowhere to be seen. his fingers reach out to touch your wrist, searching for a pulse, any pulse.

geto and gojo's panic turns to confusion and disbelief as your laughter rings through the room. they exchange glances, their worry slowly shifting to a blend of relief and irritation. gojo speaks first, his voice a mix of relief and annoyance, “you scared us half to death!” meanwhile, geto's initial relief morphs into a mix of bewilderment and anger. he stands up, pulling you up with him, and scowls at you.

“what the hell was that all about?” he asks, his voice a mix of anger and relief. his hands grip your shoulders firmly, a mixture of frustration and bewilderment etched on his face. gojo stands up as well, his initial relief transforming into a blend of confusion, irritation, and a hint of amusement.

“i can't believe you pulled a prank like that. you could've given us a heart attack!” he exclaims, his voice a mix of relief and a hint of admiration for your audacity. with a pout kissing your lips, you look at geto who's much taller than you with a puppy's eyes, “i'm sorry, i didn't mean to..” you murmur a soft apology.

geto's stern expression softens slightly as he sees your pout. however, his irritation hasn't fully faded. he let himself fall on the couch with a sigh.

“you scared me half to death, baby,” he repeats, his voice a mix of relief and lingering anger, “i thought you were hurt—or worse.” gojo, standing beside geto, lets out another chuckle, finding some humor in the situation, “yeah, that was kind of a dick move on your part,” he says, his tone now more serious— more likely pretend to be serious.

geto shoots a sharp glare at gojo, silently telling him to shut up. he then turns his attention back to you, his eyes still holding a hint of disappointment. “i don't think it was funny at all. what possessed you to do something like that?” he asks, his tone a mix of bewilderment and lingering concern.

gojo moved to sit beside geto as you stood in front of them, pulling the now-broken pasta from your mouth. with a mischievous glint in your eye, you looked at geto and gojo, mumbling, “i saw this on tiktok and thought it was funny.” their jaws dropped in disbelief, clearly stunned by the lengths you went to for this prank.

geto gently pulled you onto his lap, and you settled there, letting your leg rest on gojo’s lap. you wrapped your arms around geto’s neck and said, “come on, baby, you know it was all in good fun.”

geto lets out a sigh, his irritation gradually melting away as you snuggle onto his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. he can't stay mad at you for too long— especially not with your legs now across gojo's lap. “it was ridiculous, that's what it was,” he mutters, his tone a mix of stubbornness and affection.

meanwhile, gojo leans back into the couch, a smirk on his face as he rest his arm on your legs. “yeah, it was pretty entertaining,” he admits, his eyes flicking between you and geto. geto swats at him again, “don't encourage her. we almost had a heart attack, for crying out loud.”

gojo dodges geto’s swat with his lightning reflexes, chuckling all the while. “oh come on, you gotta admit, it was a pretty impressive prank, though. she had us going.” meanwhile, you continue to cling to geto, shamelessly playing the cute card to win him over. “yeah man,” you grin happily and raise your hand to give gojo a high five, knowing fully that he always has your back for something like this. “oh great, now you're high-five him,” he looks at you in disbelief before turning to gojo, “encourage her more, why don't you?”

gojo high-fives your raised hand, a large smirk plastered on his face. “what can i say? i respect the dedication.” he turns his smirk towards Geto, clearly enjoying teasing him. “and come on, it was a helluva prank. you have to give her credit for that.” geto rolls his eyes at gojo's response. He knows better than to argue when gojo is siding with you. “oh, yeah, a 'helluva prank',” he mocks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. he turns to look at you, his expression softening a fraction. “next time, maybe pick something less heart-stopping, okay?”

geto's resistance seems to soften under your affectionate display. despite his annoyance, he can't stay mad at you when you're clinging to him so adorably. he lets out another sigh, this one more resigned than stern. “you're lucky you're cute,” he mutters, his tone now laced more with fond resignation than lingering irritation.

HIDING SOMEONE IN THERE?

you heard the front door close and the familiar voices of gojo and geto echoing through the hallway. when you realized they were close enough to see you, you quickly shut the door behind you and pretended to hide someone in the room. you made sure to act like you were trying to keep a secret, adding a playful air to your hiding game as you waited for their reaction.

“h-hy, babe, how's work?” you ask, standing in front of the door and pretending to be nervous.

gojo was the first one to notice your demeanor. he couldn't help but raise his eyebrow at your unusually jumpy behavior and your nervous tone. he studied you carefully, narrowing his eyes as he tried to discern what was going on.

“it was fine,” he replies, his voice laced with curiosity. “but something seems off with you. is there something you're hiding from us? who's in there?” he questions. you shook your head, “n-no, i'm not hiding anything, nobody in there,” you tell them, holding tightly to the door handle.

geto chuckled at your attempt to be innocent. he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he observed the way you were guarding the door so vehemently.

“oh really?” he says with a knowing smirk. “why are you being so secretive then?”

gojo took a step closer to you, his eyes scanning your face for any hint of a lie. he could tell you were hiding something, and he was determined to find out what it was. “come on, babe,” gojo said, his voice gentle but firm. "tell us what's going on."

he reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. he could feel the tension in your grip, and he knew you were feeling nervous about something.

geto leaned forward, his expression now slightly serious. he knew how stubborn you could be when you were trying to keep a secret, and he was growing more curious by the second. gojo stepped even closer to you, towering over you as he looked down into your eyes. “open the door,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“it was nothing,” you persist, gently pushing gojo. with your curse, you make a sound inside the room, trying to make it more believable that you actually hiding someone inside.

gojo's eyes widened as he heard the sound coming from behind the door. he knew you were trying to distract him, but that only made him more suspicious. he quickly grabbed your shoulders, gently but firmly pinning you against the wall.

geto's smirk faded, replaced by a more concerned expression. he looked between you and the door, his mind racing with possibilities. he was getting impatient, “stop trying to hide from us. just tell us what's really behind that door.” you rolled your eyes— purposely knowing how much they hate when you do so and shook your shoulders to get hojo’s hands off you. “it’s nothing,” you said with a dismissive tone. “nobody’s in there. just go on.” you gave them a gentle push, urging them to move along.

gojo's grip on you didn’t loosen. in fact, it tightened a bit more as he leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on yours. “we know you're lying, babe,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. “there's clearly someone behind that door, and we deserve to know who it is.” geto moved to stand next to gojo, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you intently. he was starting to get annoyed by your stubbornness.

you look up to them, take a step back as you glue your back to the door. you shrug your shoulders, “i told you nobody's in there,” you casually said, acting nonchalantly.

gojo's expression darkened, his patience starting to wear thin. he took a step closer, his body towering over you once again.

“cut the act,” he said, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone. “you're only making yourself look more suspicious. just tell us who's behind that door already.” geto's gaze flicked between you and the door, his curiosity growing even more. he took a step closer, blocking any escape route. when you just stare at them without saying anything, gojo rolls his eyes and looks at geto. the black-haired man nodded his head and held you while he opened the door.

as the door swung open, the room was surprisingly...well, empty.

gojo's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“what the hell...” he mutters.

geto, still holding onto you firmly from behind, also seemed surprised by the lack of anything in the room. “did you really make us think you were hiding something, just to play with us?” he asks, the irritation evident in his voice. you laugh a little, “i told you it was nothing.”

gojo's annoyance started to turn into a mix of irritation and amusement. he shook his head, his lips slightly tugged into a smirk. “you're insufferable, you know that?” he says, his voice now laced with a hint of affection.

geto released his grip on you and let out a sigh, but his eyes were now filled with curiosity. “so, you really weren't hiding anything?” he asks, genuinely baffled. you push gojo inside the room and close the door before looking at geto. “oh, i'm in there, hehe, it's me!” gojo voice could be heard from inside the room. geto just laughs as you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him away to leave gojo alone.

“ah! who are you?” gojo screamed to nothing from the inside before he opened the door and saw you leave with geto. geto chuckled as he glanced at gojo's confused expression. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you away from the room, giving a nonchalant wave to gojo.

“see you later, love,” he called out, his voice filled with a hint of mischief.

meanwhile, gojo stood there dumbfounded, processing what had just happened. he couldn't believe you had tricked him into thinking you were hiding a person in there all this time. as you and geto walked down the hallway, geto couldn't help but laugh heartily, impressed by your sneaky ploy.

“i can't believe you made us think you had someone in there just to pull one over gojo,” he said, still chuckling. “you're something else, you know that?” you just giggle when he kisses your cheek. gojo caught up with you and geto, a mixture of amusement and disbelief on his face.

“i swear, you're going to drive me crazy one of these days with your pranks,” he said, shaking his head. “but i guess i should've known better than to fall for your schemes.” you glanced behind you and saw gojo already removing his blindfold. “so much for those six eyes,” you remarked, “and all for nothing.”

gojo chuckled and rolled his eyes. “yeah yeah, rub it in why don't you,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “i guess even with six eyes, i can still be tricked by my own girlfriend,” he added, his eyes landing on you. geto couldn't help but laugh again at the whole situation.

GIRLS' NIGHT

you are giggling to yourself as you put on a dress that shows too much skin for your comfort and for your two boyfriends' liking. it was already past midnight, and the three of you were ready to go to bed, but you decided to prank your boyfriend before going to sleep.

you can hear their voice talking in your shared bed. so with your make-up on and dress hugging your body, you walk out of the bedroom. as you walked out of the bedroom, gojo and geto suddenly went silent. their conversation stopped abruptly as their eyes locked on you, both gazes traveling up and down your body, taking in the sight of your exposed skin.

gojos breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly. he swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure as his eyes lingered just for a moment too long on your curves. geto's gaze darkened, his eyes scanning every inch of you. his jaw tensed as he tried to hold back his urges.

“where are you going? it's past midnight,” gojo asks, his possessiveness echoes through the room. his silver eyebrows knit together.

“i'm going out with a friend,” you tell them while standing in front of the mirror, giving them your back. both gojo and geto's expressions darkened at your reply. gojo's jaw clenched and geto's eyes narrowed. their possessiveness flared as you stated that you were going out with a friend.

“at this hour?” gojo's voice was laced with a hint of irritation. “who exactly are you going out with?” his eyes flicked over your skimpy outfit, his mind already filled with thoughts of other men seeing you like this. “i’m going out with the girls,” you said, trying to hide your smile. “babe, could you send me some money?” you turned around to face your boyfriends, who were now sitting on the bed.

gojo and geto exchanged glances, their expressions still guarded and possessive. “the girls, huh?” geto repeated, his voice betraying skepticism, “which girls?” gojo's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall before looking back at you. he nodded slightly. “i'll send you the money, but where are you going exactly?” he asks, trying to hide the unease in his voice. “shoko, utahime, and i are going to check out this new club that just opened,” you explained, giving them a ‘duh’ expression as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

gojo and geto's expressions softened slightly, but their suspicion still lingered in their eyes. they knew you weren't telling them the full truth, “that new club in shibuya?” gojo's eyes narrowed slightly. “the one that's all the rave right now?”

geto folded his arms, his jaw clenched. “that place is filled with all kinds of people,” he said, his voice wary. “are you sure its safe for you to be going there?” gojo couldn't help but feel uneasy about the thought of you being surrounded by a bunch of drunk men in a crowded and dimly lit club. he knew how protective and possessive he was, and the thought of other men looking at you sent a pang of jealousy through his chest.

geto, too, shared the same concern. his mind was filled with thoughts of some random guy trying to hit on you or touching you in ways only he and gojo were allowed to do. he clenched his fists, trying to rein in his anger.

“come here first,” gojo called you, waving his hands for you to walk closer. the moment you were close enough for him to hold, he wrapped his arm around you and gently threw you effortlessly onto the bed as you let out a small gasp and geto fast enough to cover your body with a blanket and sandwiches you in the middle, enveloping you in their warmth. “you're not going anywhere,” he hugged you tightly as your laughter mingling with surprise.

gojo's arms encircled your waist tightly, pulling you closer until your body was pressed against his chest. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, a possessive growl escaping his lips.

geto leaned in, adding an extra layer of protection by covering you with his own body. he wrapped an arm around you, his fingers gently tracing small circles on your skin. the room was filled with a mix of laughter and the sound of your heartbeat. gojo's hold on you was almost crushing, as he wrapped his long limbs around you, pinning you down on the bed.

geto's body was pressed against your back, his steady breaths fanning your hair. his fingers continued to lightly trace your skin, his touch gentle but possessive. “you're not going anywhere,” gojo's voice soft as he looks at you, “you're stuck here with us tonight.”

“why can't i go?” you laugh, still trying to wiggle your way out.

gojo's arms tightened around you, his grip almost bruising. “because we said so,” he replies, his voice stern, “those clubs are filled with drunk idiots and creeps. we're not letting you out of our sight.” geto nods in agreement, his chin resting on your shoulder. “besides, we think you look better with less clothing anyway,” he mutters into your ear, his voice low and filled with desire. “pervert, you just want to keep me for yourself,” you hit his arm lightly.

gojo chuckles against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “guilty as charged,” he murmurs, his lips barely tracing the sensitive skin of your shoulder. geto chuckles as well, his hand sneaking under your dress to caress your thigh. “can you blame us?” he asks, his voice dripping with lust. “look at how perfect you are. why would we ever want to share you with anyone else?”

let's just say nobody slept that night.

HEIMLICH

you and your two boyfriends are in the kitchen, preparing dinner together. you were standing by the counter eating some chips and just talking with your boyfriends. as you munched on your chips, gojo and geto were busy working on dinner, trying to outdo each other with their cooking skills.

gojo was cutting vegetables with a determined expression, his knife moving deftly and precisely.

geto was standing by the stove, stirring a pot of sauce with a spatula. every now and then, he would taste the sauce and make slight adjustments to the seasonings. the kitchen was filled with the clanking of pots and pans, the sound of sizzling oil, and the occasional banter from your boyfriends.

gojo and geto immediately turn their attention towards you as you start choking. they both rush over to your side, their eyes filled with concern.

“babe, are you okay?” gojo asks, frantically patting your back to help you breathe. geto grabs a glass of water from the counter and hands it to you, his own panic evident in his voice. “just breathe, take it easy,” he says, gently rubbing your back. you pointing at your throat, still coughing silently telling them that there is something stuck in your throat.

you pointing at your throat, still coughing while silently telling them that there is something stuck in your throat.

gojo and geto's eyes widen in realization as they see you gesturing to your throat, still coughing. “something's stuck?” gojo asks, his voice laced with worry. geto quickly moves behind you, positioning himself to perform the heimlich maneuver if necessary. “just try to breathe and stay calm,” he says, his hands ready to help.

he makes a fist with one hand and grabs it with the other. place his hands just above your belly button and below the ribcage. the moment he is ready to pull inward and upward on the diaphragm to force air out of the lungs to expel the blockage and feel your rear touching his crotch, you moan sensually.

geto quickly pull himself away and his face turns red as he realizes what just happened. gojo, on the other hand, can't help but burst into laughter. “did you just...?” geto mutters, his eyes still wide from surprise. gojo is practically howling with laughter now.

geto's face turns even redder, his mind clearly playing out a different scenario than what had just happened. you continue to burst out in laughter, enjoying his stunned expressions.

gojo can barely contain his laughter as he watches geto's flustered expression, still clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “i can't believe you actually moaned,” he sputters between fits of laughter. geto tries to regain his composure, still blushing deeply as he looks at you. “you did that on purpose,” he mutters, his voice a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

you continue to laugh uncontrollably, finding the whole situation hilarious. gojo finally catches his breath and wipes away tears of laughter. “oh my god, that was priceless,” gojo says, still shaking with laughter. geto, still quite red and flustered, crosses his arms and pouts playfully. “you're never going to let me live this down, are you?” he asks, his voice laced with humor. you shake your head as you hold geto arm for support while you still laughing.

geto rolls his eyes, but he can't help but smile at your endearing behavior. he playfully pulls you closer to him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “you're enjoying this too much, brat,” he mutters, his voice filled with affection.

gojo grins widely, clearly still amused by the situation. “that was the best heimlich maneuver i've ever seen,” he says, chuckling. geto just groans, burying his face in his hands as he tries to hide his embarrassment. “i cannot believe you just did that,” he mutters, his voice muffled.

“i think you broke him,” he teases, nodding towards geto, who is still trying to hide his face. geto groans even louder, still mortified by the whole situation.

“i'm never performing the heimlich on you again,” he mutters, his voice filled with mock annoyance.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Send Gojo? No. Send Nanami? Also No, But Less No.

Tsukumo Yuki x F!Reader x Ieiri Shoko - Pre-established but Nanami Kento & Gojo Satoru are also here.

Summary: In which Nanami gets emotionally & physically taxed, Gojo should never be left unsupervised, & Shoko, Yuki, & you hold an unholy amount of power over them both. or What if you, Shoko & Yuki, are in a poly relationship & somehow all your cycles sync? How much are we torturing Nanami???

A/N: This fic is a result of me staring at the ceiling at 3 AM, thinking, “What if You, Shoko & Yuki were in a polyship and had synced periods, but it’s a high-stakes psychological horror for Nanami?” Also, Gojo is a fool, Nanami deserves hazard pay, & Shoko & Yuki are the backbone of society. Anyway, enjoy this brainrot. WC: 1,165 Pure crack so no trigger warnings needed.

The night begins like all disasters do: quietly.

It starts innocently enough—Shoko's apartment at midnight, the air tense.

You’re horizontal on her couch, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, clutching a hot water bottle to your stomach like it might perform a miracle. Yuki’s raiding the kitchen, muttering curses at an empty bag of chips, while Shoko nurses a lukewarm beer and an ice pack balanced on her head.

You’ve achieved the mythical synchronicity of an unholy trinity of cramps and PMS-fueled rage, and it’s terrifying.

It’s that kind of night.

“I swear I bought pads last week,” Yuki mutters, emerging from the kitchen with a singular, stale granola bar. “How the hell are we out of everything?”

Shoko shrugs. “You’ve been stress-eating chips like it’s an Olympic sport.”

Before Yuki can throw the granola bar at her, your phone buzzes.

“It’s Nanami,” you say, reading the text. Don’t call me tonight. I am already in bed.

“Oh, hell no.” Yuki grabs your phone and speed-dials him.

Nanami picks up on the third ring, voice groggy. “No.”

“Yes,” Yuki replies. “We’re dying. We’re out of pads, tampons, snacks, and basically everything else. If you don’t come, I will personally end you.”

A pause. Then, with the resignation of a man who knows he’s lost, he says, “Fine. Text me a list.”

Gojo, lying upside down on the carpet with his legs propped up on the coffee table, perks up immediately. “I can go!”

“No!” all three of you chorus.

1:00 AM

Nanami shows up, a grocery bag in hand, looking like the last shred of his will to live is dangling by a thread. He tosses it onto the counter and starts to leave when Yuki, halfway through a chocolate bar, asks, “Where’s the ice cream?”

Nanami freezes. Slowly, he turns around. “The what?”

“I specifically texted you about the caramel swirl.” Shoko says with narrowed eyes, beer bottle in hand, ready to weaponize it.

“Yeah,” you pipe up from under your blanket fort. “And I wanted mochi.”

Nanami takes a slow, deep breath. Then stares at all three of you, eyes hollow. “I’m going home; send Gojo.”

“Oh, I’d love to!” Gojo says brightly, halfway out the door before Shoko grabs him by the back of his collar.

“You can’t,” Yuki snaps. “Gojo will get it wrong.”

“Hey!” Gojo protests. “That’s not fair. I’ve gotten better!”

“No, you’re going to mess this up,” she snaps. “Remember what happened last time?”

Gojo pouts. “I didn’t know there were different kinds of tampons! I thought wings were for decoration!”

“You also brought back clove-scented tampons and one fun-size bag of Skittles. My vagina has PTSD because of you.” You add helpfully from under your blanket pyramid.

“Don’t remind me, he also almost got throttled in the parking lot,” Shoko pointed out.

“Yeah, by you,” Gojo retorts.

“Yeah, and I stand by that decision,” Shoko says.

“Good,” Yuki deadpans. “I will finish the job.”

Nanami is smart, so he sighes, grabs his keys and leaves. A few minutes later, he returns, arms loaded with supplies and a few extra snacks.

And because he is smart—he knows better than to face the wrath of three PMSing women. He drops the bag on your doorstep, rings the bell, and sprints away like he’s just defused a bomb, leaving you all to wonder if he’ll ever come back for a rematch!

2:00 AM

Against everyone’s better judgment, Gojo insists on “helping.”

“I read somewhere that massages help!” he chirps, already cracking his knuckles.

“No,” Yuki interrupts.

“Hard no,” Shoko echoes.

You sigh. “Fine. Just don’t be weird about it.”

Gojo beams, settling behind you. “You just need to relax,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “I saw this thing on TikTok—”

You eye him suspiciously.

Yuki glares at him, now a little too close to your couch. “If you try anything funny with my wife, I will kill you.”

“And I will revive you just so I can kill you again.” Shoko adds popping a nicotine gum in her mouth and chewing aggressively.

He waves a dismissive hand. “Pfft, no trust. Just relax!”

Gojo, it turns out, has the subtlety of a jackhammer. Five seconds in, you let out a yelp as his bony hands jab into your back like he’s searching for treasure.

“That’s her kidney!” Yuki shouts, grabbing him by the collar.

“It’s all connected!” Gojo whines, flailing as Yuki drags him away.

“Connected to your impending death, maybe,” she growls.

3:00 AM

Nanami gets called again.

This time, it’s because Gojo—unsupervised—tried to boil water for tea and somehow set the kettle on fire.

“How,” Nanami begins when he arrives, staring at the blackened kettle in the sink, “did this happen?”

“I was just trying to help!” Gojo protests, dodging a cushion thrown by Shoko.

“Tell him the real reason or I’m shaving your head!” You yell, spraying pain relief medication on your back.

Gojo holds his hair and mutters lowly. “I got distracted. Someone called me a ‘red flag with 20/20 vision,’ on Tiktok, and honestly, they’re not wrong.”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is why I don’t let you cook.”

“That, and I’m amazing at takeout,” Gojo quips, tossing Nanami finger guns.

Shoko leans against the counter, watching the exchange with mild amusement. “Are you two done flirting, or are we actually eating tonight?”

Nanami froze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “We’re not—”

“Oh, please,” Yuki interrupts. “We’ve all seen the way you look at each other. Just kiss already.”

Gojo just shamelessly grins. “He’s shy.”

Nanami turns around to hide his burning ears and pulls up his hoodie sleeves and starts 3 A.M. dinner. He wonders, how did none of you in a polycule of three know how to cook? Or did you all lied to him and hoped for the best? Then he looks at Gojo—still somehow grinning—and decides he deserves hazard pay for this.

5:00 A.M.

The couch is now a war zone of blankets, empty bowls, and collective exhaustion.

Gojo has decided to make his final bid for redemption. “I’ll clean up,” he offers, sweeping his lanky arms toward the mess.

“Don’t touch anything,” Nanami says immediately.

“Wow, no trust,” Gojo complains, pouting.

“You set water on fire,” Shoko deadpans.

“You bruised my kidney,” you add.

“And you can’t even bring the right pad,” Yuki finishes.

Gojo throws up his hands in defeat. “You’re all mean.”

Nanami sighs, sinking into the armchair with the air of a man who knows this is his life now.

6:00 A.M.

By morning, Gojo is banned from the kitchen, Nanami is seriously contemplating resignation, and you’re all sprawled across the couch, eating ice cream directly out of the tub.

“This was a nightmare,” Yuki mutters, glaring at Gojo, who’s still trying to apologize.

Shoko just sips her beer. “Same time next month?”

Nanami groans.

Gojo beams.

A/N: Nanami survived, but at what cost? Gojo did NOT, in fact, redeem himself. Shoko & Yuki remain undefeated. Will they make it to next month without setting another household appliance on fire? Stay tuned.

Vote wisely. Or don’t. Chaos reigns.

All Works Masterlist

[kentosmirrorball]

{SMAU}: poly! satosugu texts <3.

{warnings}: profanity, suggestiveness.

pre-relationship:

during satosugu:

establishing relationship:

this was so long overdue!! but here we go <3

-x-x-x-x-x-

[specialgradefckr]

Beat Your Heart to Death

tw: explicit content, extremely toxic dynamics. gojo/geto, gojo/reader, geto/reader, and yes, stsg/reader. female!reader. mutual pining, requited unrequited feelings, the yearning, good god, the YEARNING. relatively unwilling voyeurism. EXTREMELY manipulative dynamics – boundary pushing, gaslighting, etc.

satoru and suguru are completely fucking deranged. their brains are operating on a level where human consciousness and emotion just hits different. they say INSANE shit at the end of this fic. you have been warned.

Sequel: Heartline Gone Flat

This must be what dying feels like.

You watch them, together. Leaning against one another, sleeping, vulnerable. Curled up in each other's embrace.

This must be what dying feels like. Seeing the man you love and the man you lust for, so painfully, peacefully, blissfully in love with each other.

If this is dying, you're surely going to hell for thinking something so awful about a feeling so beautiful.

It’s the sort of thing you think to yourself, bury deep – deep – inside the recesses of your mind. Dredging it out in the late hours of the night when you can’t sleep. Wallowing in your unrequited love, feeling sorry for yourself, while also comforting yourself with the thought that at least now you didn’t have to do anything.

You would never have to approach your longtime crush, Suguru Geto, and potentially ruin your friendship with him. It was something you’d struggled with for years, and after Gojo showed up – you didn’t have to struggle anymore. It was already lost.

And the insane twists your fantasies would play out for you, in those lonely nights in bed – you could be free of those, too. You could completely dismiss the insane idea of propositioning the man-whore menace of a human being who made your heart race, Satoru Gojo.

Satoru and Suguru loved each other, and it would be wrong to get in the way of that. At this point, even saying anything to either of them would be a trespass on your friendship, with both of them.

That was all there was to it. Nothing more to be done. You were mourning your feelings. Strangling your dreamy sighs at Suguru’s kind gestures, stomping the flutter in your chest when you caught Satoru smiling. Killing your heart and leaving it to rot, stepping around it like it’s not there.  

Unfortunately, you couldn’t escape the fact that all three of you lived together.

It doesn’t help that Satoru is just as prone to PDA with Suguru as he was with all his numerous hookups. More, even, because he doesn’t keep it to just his bedroom, doesn’t make the token efforts to stay quiet at night and shoo them out in the morning.

You do your best. Look away. Try to ignore how your heart jumps, twists, does all sorts of funny things at the sight of them kissing.

Satoru’s pretty white lashes flutter closed, Suguru’s warm gaze softens, cheeks flushed as Satoru’s hands jump up to cling to him. He cups Satoru’s face like it’s a treasure, tilting his head and leaning into the kiss like he can’t get enough of it –

You’re staring, fuck. You’re looking too closely. The scene burns itself into your eyes and you want to rip them out, never see it again. But you struggle to avert your gaze, greedy mind committing every detail to memory with a racing heart, dry mouth.

Thirsty, you’re so thirsty, in every sense of the word. They lean into each other, so in sync and so affectionate in a way that tugs on your every heart string. Fuck!

You start to just leave the room when it happens. You’d rather die than get caught staring, you’d rather go without water than thirst for droplets.

And you’d really, really, rather cut your fucking eyes out than face the feelings the sight awakens in you. Longing, yearning, how you want to tear them both off each other at once, how you want to see more, more, more, you want to touch, you want to taste –

God, fuck. You’re like one of those shitty girls who fetishizes male relationships. Aren’t you? You feel like this might be that. But you’re attracted to both of them individually, so it can’t be that, right? You’re not a creep, you’re just greedy. You leave the room when they kiss! You’re respecting their privacy!

They notice, though, is the thing. Not your staring (god you fucking hope they’ve never noticed the staring) but how you leave the room when they get affectionate with each other. It’s Suguru who pulls you aside to ask.

“…and listen, I know you’re not like that, I totally know, so does Satoru. It just… makes him feel a little weird, you know? He was raised by a traditional family, so they either think this is a phase, or call him disgusting to his face.”

Fuck your life. Actually fuck your ENTIRE life. “Of course not – I never – ”

“No no no, I know, I told you, he does too, it’s just – it’s a little disconcerting for him. But I can talk to him, make him understand. This is your house, too, you have the right not to see that sort of stuff.”

That just makes you feel a bit worse, actually. Satoru and Suguru shouldn’t have to hide away in their room whenever they want to kiss. It’s their own home.

“I’m sorry, Suguru, I – I don’t have any problem with you guys doing it around the house. I just…” You shift uncomfortably. “I’m not super comfortable with… PDA sort of stuff. It has nothing to do with you both being guys.”

Suguru nods, “No, I understand completely. Satoru will be disappointed, but you’re setting boundaries, and I respect that – ”

“It’s not that,” You say, “I – you can do whatever you like, really, I’ll just leave – ”

“No,” Suguru interrupts with a sigh, “That’s what’s bothering him. I think deep down he’s a little worried that you find it… disturbing.”

Your chest tightens with anxiety as you rush to reassure him, “Of course I don’t!”  

“No, I know, I know, we both do,” Suguru says in that warm, comforting voice of his, “It’s just how he feels – you know he can’t control that.”

And then your stupid mouth rushes ahead of you. Writes a check your heart can’t afford to cash.

“It’s fine! You don’t have to stop, I. Just… tell him I felt like I was intruding. I didn’t think he saw it as me being disgusted.”

And your heart will pay willingly, because Suguru gives you that smile. Warm and affectionate. The smile you’d fallen in love with.

“You’re not intruding at all. I’ll tell him you said so, it’ll be a great weight off his mind.”

So now the love of your life makes out with his boyfriend and you can’t even leave the room. Hahah. God. Maybe you should start thinking of a way to move out?

Problem: When Satoru moved in, he’d basically started paying all the bills. He didn’t have to worry about being cut off from the family money – even at his young age, he had his own financial success. Even if it started out with a few trust funds and an appointed position at one of his parent’s companies.

Every rent listing looked expensive when your current rate was “free”. And fuck, rent was expensive. You’d have to deal with other roommates, people you didn’t know (and love) as long as Suguru (and Satoru, at this point, you’d known him for years), and you’d be paying for the privilege.

You try, oh, do you ever try to get over it. Sexuality is fluid, after all, so it’s perfectly possible that Satoru and Suguru just ended up being gay. Being with either of them may never have been an option, except maybe as one of Satoru’s flings.

And wouldn’t that just suck? To have one night with Satoru only to watch him realize he’s gay and mutually in love with your longtime crush? Better to never sleep with him at all. You can’t miss something you’ve never had. And you wouldn’t want to be a fling anyways.

The thought stings more than it should, because deep down –

(You’d take it. You know you’d take it. That’s why you’re still here, really, under all the excuses. You’re fucking pathetic, pining for both of them. You’d take anything you could get.)

It doesn’t help that they get freer with their affections after your talk with Suguru. Looser. So unrestrained. You walk in on them fucking in the living room, having come back early from class, face burning up as you stand there stock still for a moment.

They don’t stop, or freak out, or cover themselves or anything. You see Suguru’s naked chest above the couch, Satoru’s hands pinned over the armrest of it, their bare legs and feet entwined and sticking over the other side of the couch. They’re both so fucking tall.

So beautiful. Satoru moans so pretty, and you hear Suguru purr, low and filthy, “Like that, you little whore?” and you feel yourself clenching all the way to your core.

You make a wild dash across the living room, staying on the other side of the couch so they can’t see you. Closing the door to your bedroom as quickly and quietly as you can, panting to yourself, feeling the heat rising on your face and the warm pulse between your legs.

(Pathetic, fucking pathetic. It’s like you’re actually some horny teenage boy with a crush on a pretty girl out of his league, rubbing one out every time you see her with her equally hot girlfriend.)

You’ve got to get ahold of yourself.

Your routine has changed, with the both of them being together, so openly. There were little things you’d shared, now gone, lost to the unfathomable whirlpool that was their relationship.

Used to be you’d buy sweets on grocery trips to share with Satoru. It was an old habit of yours, and when he’d first moved in, he’d caught you with them. Reaching for some with a grin before you smacked him away.

The look he gave you, a slow smirk before he went all wide-eyed and pleading, staggering to his knees like a proper starving drama queen – god, he had to know how he’d made your heart flutter. He probably pulled that on so many people.

Still, he would eat the candies right out of your hand, lips just teasing on your fingertips, eyes lingering on you while he licked his lips. It made you feel weird, at first, but you eventually realized that Satoru was just a weird guy.

He’d yawn and stretch and if he caught you or Suguru watching he’d flash his whole chest, like a girl flashing her tits. He slept naked and left the bathroom door open when he was using it, and he’d often knock when on your bathroom when you were in there, even if he had his own.

He had about ten different game consoles and games for them, plus a huge collection of movies, which he likes to watch with the room completely dark. He sleeps with a nightlight on, and his social media picture is an ugly picture of him from high school with these weird round sunglasses.

Not at all what you expected from a pretty boy like him. But Satoru’s eccentric charm, and the unstoppable allure of his perfect face and body, it rewired your brain somehow. You feel like you’ve wanted him for as long as you’ve known him.

You try to find other people. But the problem with living with Satoru and Suguru is that no one is up to your standards. You’ll never meet anyone as handsome or beautiful as either of them, so why bother?

In your defense, Suguru is hard to fall out of love with.

It’s not uncommon to wake up to the sound of your favorite breakfast being cooked while Suguru hums away in the kitchen, his pretty hair all tied back. If you sneak in quietly enough you can catch a tender smile on his face, the smell of freshly ground and brewed coffee he makes for Satoru in some expensive machine.

If you are unlucky, he’ll catch you, and that smile will grow as soon as his eyes are on you and you’ll fall in love all over again. If you’re lucky, you can sneak back away, but Suguru will eventually come and wake you up with a knock so gentle you suspect he already knows you’re up.

He shares his hair care routine, and it leaves your hair shiny and lovely. But your hair isn’t exactly like his, so he must have adjusted it.

He offers to help you brush or style it, himself, and asks you if you wouldn’t mind repaying the favor. Like you wouldn’t kill or die for the honor of running your hands through his silken locks.

Suguru is the type of guy who remembers when you get your period and asks if you need anything for it. You magically find your favorite fruits in the fridge, cut up, dipped in chocolate or caramel or yoghurt, however you like them best.

He does your laundry without being asked because he says it’s easier, and cleans dishes before you can get to them.

Every birthday he throws you a party, bakes a cake and he’ll spend hours to perfect a meal from scratch to go along with it. He’s perfect at finding a thoughtful present – Satoru just gives you cash, or some expensive luxury purchase you find fashionable but would never buy for yourself (Suguru definitely went shopping with him).

You get why Satoru likes him. Satoru’s sort of a slob, always leaving clothes on the floor – walking around shirtless like he knows exactly what it does to anyone watching “Just providing a public service, babe~” – and Suguru is so perfectly domestic.

Almost motherly. Whenever you misplace something, the fastest way to find it is invariably to ask Suguru, if he doesn’t approach you first with a concerned smile after watching you look.

After enough times catching Suguru sternly chide him for not putting away his clothes, leaving wrappers on the table, forgetting to put his shoes away; you’re relatively sure Satoru’s called him mom or mommy at some point. Possibly during sex.

And god, you get it. Those gentle tones of “Is everything all right?”, and “I tweaked the recipe, how do you like it?” and “I’m just really happy you enjoyed it.”, it’s enough to make your heart ache.

How, exactly, are you supposed to fall out of love with Suguru Geto?

How are you supposed to leave, how are you supposed to want to, especially when you swear you hear him call himself Daddy, and you find your face getting hotter than it should be.

Whispering to Satoru how “I’ve got you, baby,” and “Let Daddy take care of you, mhhm?”

And god, the high-pitched whimpers Satoru makes in response. He’s a tall guy, mewling, melting beneath Suguru’s hands, his words, his cock – and you could so easily imagine yourself in his place –

How are you supposed to be platonic about this?

 How are you supposed to stop touching yourself when they’re practically putting on personalized porn shows for you?

It's after the third time that you start to think they're doing this on purpose.

Whatever’s between them is something you just couldn’t understand. You get that, you do.

The way they look into each other’s eyes – there’s no way Suguru has ever looked at you like that, no way Satoru would ever want you that badly.

It’s something magnetic that makes them slot together at all times, draws their gazes to one another, leaves no room for anyone else –

But you stumble on them… a lot.

Never mind making out on the couch. You turn into the laundry room to see Satoru backed against the washer machine, his cock so far Suguru’s throat you can see it bulge.

His face is flushed, eyes teary, one hand loosely in Suguru’s hair while he whimpers. Dark eyes gazing up at him, fierce, Adam’s apple bobbing and another noise escaping him.

Or Satoru’s sitting rather innocently in Suguru’s lap, at a certain angle, but the sounds he’s making are less than innocent. Vile, even. Suguru’s broad hand wrapped around Satoru’s cock, pumping up and down, Satoru’s body shifting as you can tell he’s grinding down against something below.

And sometimes it’s really just the noises. You’ve heard them so often now it feels like you can put expressions to every moan and grunt and whimper and whine. Satoru makes a certain sort of gasp and your imagination jumps to think of how deep Suguru must be inside him, how his pretty face must look, twisted in pleasure.

They come back sometimes, from parties, drunk together. Leaning on one another like they could never lean on you – you’re not tall, not built like either of them are. Cheeks flushed as they whisper words into one another’s ears, Satoru giggling, kissing his cheek, Suguru laughing and squeezing his waist as they stumble into their room.

Like they’re in their own little world that you could never intrude on. You just catch glimpses every now and then. They don’t even look at you, it’s like you’re not even there – their eyes are locked on one another.

But that isn’t the worst of it.

Satoru and Suguru start bringing other people in.

No - they start bringing other girls into it. Like it's a punishment for catching them, only, you're fairly certain they wanted to be caught.

Satoru’s never been shy when he had a girl over, about walking around shirtless – maybe it’s an exhibitionism thing. And you’re someone they know well, someone tolerant (pathetic) enough to not say anything.

Either that or they’re both just that good at pretending you aren’t there. But they talk to you, all the time. You eat meals together, have movie nights (if you ignore how Satoru will not-so-discreetly put his hand on the inside of Suguru’s thigh while you’re all sitting together), grocery shop together, smile and laugh and share things about your day.

It’s just that they’re also dating each other. And in love, so in love, it’s painfully obvious that there’s no room for anyone else between them. Which makes the girls they bring over turn your stomach even more.

Sure, they’re one night stands. But they don’t even try to keep it quiet. You hear unfamiliar, high-pitched moans and whimpers, a wet smacking sound that has to be Satoru overdramatically eating pussy.

You wonder what his face looks like. What his eyes look like. Is he staring up at her when she does it? Does she have a hand in the feather-down softness of his hair? Or maybe Suguru’s hand, shoving him forward, that sly smirk that creeps over his lips when you’ve seen his eyes grow dark with want.

Is she whimpering because she’s close? Do they tease her, edging her, enjoying the expressions on her face, the way her body trembles? When she begs, is it for them to stop, or keep going? Whose dick is it inside her? Satoru’s, Suguru’s? What does it feel like? Satoru’s stupid enough to do it without a condom but Suguru isn’t.

What are they doing when she cums? You hear Suguru groan (you know how his groans sound, you know how both of them sound), so he must be cumming too. What’s Satoru doing? He’s too needy to be left alone for long.

Is he watching while he jerks himself? Has Suguru forced him to sit back? Or maybe he’s down where the action is, right where Suguru’s cock is buried inside her, laving over her clit and his cock like the slut he is until they both cum all over his face.

Why can’t that be you? Why don’t they want you?

Your fists clench harder than they should.

One night you stumble onto them in the middle of the living room, all at it in plain view.

Satoru is in Suguru’s lap, tall enough to tower over him. Suguru’s hand wrapped around his throat, choking him, head tilted back in bliss as his lashes flutter. There’s a woman on her knees, between their spread legs, sucking Satoru off.

And you can tell, by the way Satoru shudders, how he’s loose like putty in Suguru’s arms, that Suguru’s dick is buried deep inside him.

Satoru and Suguru don’t even try to pretend it was an accident. Some fucking roommates they are.

Suguru will smile and blush when you ask him about it, apologizing in soothing, kind tones, offering to never bring another girl home again if it bothered you – you’ve been through the goddamn song and dance so many times already.

He has this way of just. Making you feel guilty for even asking in the first place. Like you were presumptuous to say anything at all, unless it was something he wanted to hear.

It’s turned you into this. So eager to please but desperate to keep them at arm’s length. Wanting, longing, and starving for it. Watching because you quite literally can’t do anything else, sights burned into your eyes. Unable to look away. Unable to keep watching.

You don't know what they want from you.

You don’t think you want to, anymore.

Satoru and Suguru are getting impatient.

No, Suguru is getting impatient. Satoru is getting desperate. It was his idea to start going out and finding girls to bring back and fuck.

It wasn’t particularly difficult between the two of them. And promising, at first – after all, what was more likely to get you to snap than watching – hearing – the two of them give some other girl everything you’ve ever wanted on a silver platter?

But you just keep going. Gritting your teeth and bearing with it. Suguru spent a whole week dislodging your vibrator slightly from its charging port, slowly squeezing your lube bottle empty, doing everything he could to drive you to the brink.

Satoru’s starting to remark how much it’s a waste of time. He gets snippy when he’s needy, and lately, Suguru’s cock just isn’t enough for him. He has to go through your laundry, plant a camera in your bedroom on one of those few nights they stay out late enough to give you some private time.

Satoru makes him wear your clothes when Suguru fucks him, lets Suguru gag him with your panties when it’s the other way around.

They play dress-up together and watch you touch yourself at awkward angles with muddied sound quality. It’s not enough, not nearly enough.

Privately, Suguru is a little worried. Satoru’s getting weird – not that he hasn’t always been. But weirder.

He goes right into the bathroom after every time you use it. He’s always quick to reach your drinks for a “taste test” after you’ve had a sip. And Suguru knows for a fact Satoru isn’t using his own toothbrush at night.

He keeps talking about you. Looking at you. Whispering dirty suggestions in his ears, asking impatiently if you look like you’re going to snap.

Satoru is needy like that, demanding, and you’d always balanced him out while helping Suguru relax.

But there’s a distance now that wasn’t there before. The tension builds and builds, needs unmet for so long that desperation is clawing at both of them.

And that’s to say nothing of his own desires. Satoru, for all his faults, still has self-control.

Suguru passes your door every night and stops for a moment. He serves you dinner with a smile, domestic as he is, and thinks how easy it would be to slip something in there. To make sure you’d sleep through the night.

Would it even matter if you didn’t? You let him get away with so much. You love him, you must love him, don’t you? There’s no other reason you would put up with all of this. If he did slip, you’d forgive him, wouldn’t you? You’d drink up all his honeyed words with the same smile you always gave him.

But if he gave you such a convenient excuse, then he would always doubt. Whether you really loved him or if he just made it convenient to love him.

More importantly, you’re looking at them different. It was good, at first; your pretty eyes darting in a different direction, the way you try to hide your face, keep your words especially cool.

 They want you to TAKE what you want. Want you yelling and screaming and scratching them up like the hellcat they know you are, deep down.

“How long,” He whines between groans as Geto works between his legs, fingering him as he sucks his cock, “Is she gonna make us wait – fuck!”

Suguru pulls away with a pop. Saliva and precum dripping from his lips. Satoru pulls him in for a kiss, by the hair.

“You know she’s liked me a while,” Suguru murmurs, swallowing a moan or two as he works another finger into his hole. “She’s scared of pushing me away. And now that you’re my boyfriend, she probably wouldn’t want to break us up.”

“Fuck, but imagine if she did.” Satoru bucks into him, “She wants us, I know she does.”

He’s always so needy, like a puppy. Suguru likes it, but he can admit that he wants you, too. Misses the energy you’d provide. You’re not demanding like Satoru is. Too prideful. Satoru’s shameless. But you want, oh, do you ever want, and they both do know it.

Once he’s stretched Satoru out enough, he wastes no time shoving him onto his belly, burying himself in his hole from behind – “Fuck! Suguru!”

“On it right now,” He purrs, close to Satoru’s back, reaching lazily for his cock.

Satoru doesn’t like to cum too soon anyways. He likes to cum from getting fucked, to be edged into oblivion – or he likes going hard and fast and overstimulated to no end. Not much in between, unless he was the one in charge.

“Imagine it,” He pants like a dog beneath him. He’s pretty, so pretty, and the only thing Suguru could imagine that would be better is to see your face looking up at him from underneath Satoru, “Suguru!”

He grunts, thrusting his hips harder, “Imagining. What am I imagining?” God, Satoru’s a slut and a nuisance, but it’s always been worth it to indulge him.

“Her,” Satoru breathes after a particularly hard thrust, “Trying to break us up.”

Suguru grabs his hips for better leverage. Satoru dirty talks best when he’s getting fucked hard, after all.

“Fuck, imagine if she got me drunk or something, hngh, finally followed through on those fuck-me eyes she’s always giving me, ghhgh, fuck yes like that, and. Just fucked me in our room, waiting for you to walk in on us together.”

And he can see it, picture it so well.

A drunk night with the most beautiful man alive, because that’s what Satoru is; pretty even now, beneath him, all sweat and lean body trembling as he gets utterly railed.

You’ve always had the attraction, and Satoru couldn’t handle his liquor, and all the sudden, you’d slept together.

“Would you – ah, ahHhh, would you get mad, Suguru?” His voice is teasing now, even through the groans and utterances, “Would you cry~?”

“Ha!” He half-chokes out the laugh, because Satoru clenches around him and it’s hard not to cum right away. He’s going to leave bruises from how hard he’s holding those narrow, lovely hips.

“No," Suguru grinds out, "But I’m sure you both would. She’s the type, and you’re so fucking – gah, so fucking needy. What would you want me to do? Forgive you?”

His pace slows down, and he reaches to squeeze his cock in return, just for a taste.

“Nah – fuck! Yes, keep doing that, fuck.” Satoru bucks into his touch, always, always chasing after him, “She’s too fucking nice all the time. If she did it, it would be – hnng – like. A revenge thing. She should be fucking mad already, pissed off. She should make me cum inside her, say she’s pregnant. Make me dump you and marry her, so if she can’t have you, nobody can.”

Suguru barks out a laugh at the concept, and then a moan, choked off as he feels the heat shooting through him at the idea.

You’re too nice, like Satoru says, it’s a laughable concept, you acting like this –

But what had he seen in your eyes that day after you caught them both with that girl?

“Fuck, I swear I feel you twitching inside me – ”

“What would you do, then?” Suguru purrs hotly into his ear, “You want to win her heart while you’re married?”

“Well, we’d fuck all the time,” Satoru wheezes out a giggle, trembling as Suguru’s hand slides along his cock, “Fuck you – haaaahhh. But I’d be making nice with her, being a good husband, and then you could come and have an affair – ”

Fuck, fuck, that’s too much, “Close,” He grunts, driving himself deep and hard, chasing the edge, “Fuck, I could tell her I love her, blackmail her, even – threaten to tell you.”

A groan as Satoru gets closer, and Suguru continues, “I could fuck her, leave her coming home to you full of my cum – ”

“I’d eat it out of her,” Satoru laughs, near deranged as he jerks between fucking back into Suguru and rutting into his hand, “Jerk me off already – ah, fuck, what if you got her pregnant – ”

White-hot, like the idea of your face beneath him, both of them, accepting them with an open heart full of rage and bitterness and lust, Suguru cums.

He’s just aware enough to fist Satoru’s cock, sliding harshly along it until he hears the lovely whore beneath him gasping, twitching, spilling in his hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” Satoru whimpers. “Hnghh… god, just the idea of her coming home from the hospital with a black-haired baby.”

“Fuck you,” Suguru barks, because now he wants to cum inside you. He wants, so, so fucking bad to cum inside you.

But god, do you even want them?

You sit there, all day, looking away, running away. That’s not love, is it?

And he’s a romantic, at heart. Satoru is, too. They don’t want anything less than your whole heart. Your entire life, your mind, body, and soul, dedicated to them the way they are to each other. Mad with jealousy and rage and possession.

Satoru had left him with bruises, the day he found out Suguru was crushing on you. When Suguru told him, in no uncertain terms, that he’s been wanted you for over a decade now and he wasn’t leaving before he got you. Blue fury in his eyes, heart twisting in his chest.

He’d looked him in the eye, grin wild and wide. Staring down as he has him pinned. Suguru had raised his knee up between his legs to find his cock desperately hard and throbbing.

“I want to fuck her first,” had been his wicked demand. Pain and pleasure traded like currency in return for love, each of them furious at the other for wanting you. They reaped the cost of their love on each other, settled their scores deep in their souls.

Because even if Suguru had seen you first, could he really say he’d wanted you first? Did he really want to fuck you before Satoru moved in, before he saw you flustered from your attraction and playfully trading banter with Satoru?

Had he wanted Satoru because you wanted Satoru? Had Satoru wanted him because he could see that you did?

Lines cross and uncross between you and the two of them, too tangled to ever unravel.

Time to tighten the knot.

[jiarkives]

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[jinjoohaa]

Room for One more ?

Pairing - JJK Men x reader

CW: Alcohol consumption, peer pressure, implied non-consensual intoxication, sexual tension, suggestive touching while intoxicated, non-explicit nudity/cuddling, hangover symptoms, implied possessiveness, power dynamics.

prev chapter | next chapter

Chapter 2

“Cheers to our new roomie!”

Gojo announced loudly, raising a shot glass high above his head, standing in front of the music-blaring TV like it was a goddamn stage.

You were curled up at the end of the couch, flustered beyond reason after being manhandled from the balcony by Gojo’s impossibly strong arms, your whole body still pulsing from that bizarre Toji encounter.

“I'm—uh, I really don’t—drink much,” you said, palms up, shrinking into the cushion as Gojo pressed a full shot into your hand.

Geto plopped down next to you, one arm draped over the back of the couch, dangerously close to your shoulder. “C’mon, one won’t kill you.”

“You’ll sleep better,” Gojo grinned, clinking his glass with yours before knocking his shot back like it was candy. “Besides, you already signed the roommate contract. This is part of the hazing.”

You gave him a look. “There’s… a contract?”

“Verbal,” Geto added smoothly, fingers brushing your sleeve as he grabbed his beer from the table. “Binding by presence.”

“Peer pressure is a crime, you know,” you muttered, trying to hand the shot glass back.

But Gojo was already pouring another. “And yet… you’re still here. Kinda sus.”

You blinked. “Sus?”

“Suspicious,” Geto murmured, eyes fixed on you with that unreadable half-lidded stare, his smile low and lazy. “You sure you didn’t want us to get you drunk?”

Your jaw dropped. “I—I—No?!”

“Relax,” Gojo laughed, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, silver hair falling over his eyes. “We’re just messing with you.”

Your cheeks burned.

“But seriously,” Geto cut in, voice lower now, smoother, “a drink or two helps. Loosens the nerves. And you’ve looked like a deer in headlights since you stepped in here.”

You sighed.

Then drank.

It burned.

You coughed immediately, blinking fast, your whole chest heating.

“Attagirl,” Gojo grinned, already filling another. “You didn’t make a face. I’m proud.”

“Cute one,” Geto said, sipping his beer.

You turned redder.

The next shot came quickly. Then a third.

You weren’t sure when you stopped protesting.

The music thumped in the background. Toji was sitting on the armchair across from you, one hand wrapped around a beer bottle, dark eyes flicking up every now and then to watch silently. He hadn’t said anything since Gojo carried you in.

But his presence was heavy. Quiet and coiled.

“You know,” Gojo said, stretching beside you on the couch, legs wide and easy, “you’re a lot more relaxed now.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m dying,” you muttered, blinking slowly.

He teased you, finger poking your cheek. “All sleepy and droopy and—look at this little pout.”

You pouted harder, turning your head away. “Stop touching me.”

“Why?” Geto said smoothly from your other side. “You’re not exactly pushing us away.”

You tried to say something—anything—but Geto's hand had rested low behind you now, fingers barely brushing the fabric of your shirt.

Toji’s bottle clicked against the table as he stood abruptly. “Tch.”

You flinched.

He didn’t speak. Just walked past the couch and disappeared into Gojo and Geto’s shared bedroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

“…Did I do something?” you asked blearily.

Gojo waved a hand. “That’s just Toji. He gets pissy if he doesn’t get his alone time.”

“Or when someone else touches what he wants,” Geto muttered under his breath.

Gojo glanced at him. “Dude.”

“What?”

You blinked. “I’m not—he doesn’t—I mean, he’s not even nice to me?”

Geto smirked. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

You tried to process that but the shots were hitting hard now. Your limbs felt loose, your head a little floaty, like someone had cut the strings tethering you to gravity.

You yawned without meaning to.

Gojo leaned in. “Aw. Getting sleepy?”

“I think I need water,” you mumbled.

“Or another drink,” Geto said.

You shook your head. “No more, I—”

“Last one,” Gojo promised. “Swear. Just to celebrate.”

You gave in.p

The last thing you remembered clearly was the two of them laughing as your body slumped against Gojo’s side, and Geto whispering something in your ear that made your cheeks burn even in your haze.

Everything after that blurred into warmth, pressure, a spinning ceiling—and then, black.

Your head felt like a brick had been dropped on it.

No—several bricks. Sharp, heavy ones. Maybe even a few rusty nails thrown in.

The first thing you noticed was the blaring pain behind your eyes. The second—was that you couldn’t move.

Because something heavy was draped across your torso.

Correction: someone.

“…What the—?” you mumbled, blinking through the haze of a hangover.

You were on the living room floor. Blanket crumpled under your legs. A pillow from the couch shoved behind your head. But it wasn’t the setting that made your heart leap into your throat.

It was the man curled up on top of you.

Gojo Satoru.

Sprawled across your body like a human octopus, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, head tucked low against your chest—his cheek was literally resting right between your breasts.

And even worse, he was nuzzling. In his sleep.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He let out a soft groan, rubbing his face further into the soft space beneath your collarbones. “Mmh… warm…”

You tensed. "Gojo—"

He didn’t wake. Just tightened his hold like you were his personal teddy bear.

You peeked to the side. Geto was passed out on the couch, one arm dangling off the side, mouth slightly open. A beer bottle rolled next to his fingers.

Toji was nowhere in sight.

The memories came back in pieces. The music. The teasing. The drinks. Gojo handing you one. Then another. Geto laughing as you squinted at the bitter liquid. You hadn’t wanted to drink—but they kept pushing, and you’d just wanted to blend in, to seem cool, to not be that girl.

You groaned softly. Your limbs were heavy, sore. Your body still buzzing uncomfortably from the leftover alcohol.

And Gojo’s arm was locked across your waist like a steel bar.

You wriggled. “Gojo—wake up—”

He grumbled again, barely lifting his head—blue eyes squinting open sleepily, then immediately closing again as he pressed closer to your chest.

“…soft…” he murmured.

You yelped under your breath. “Satoru—!”

That’s when you heard the soft click of a door opening.

Your head snapped up.

Nanami walked out of his room, hair messy but still somehow composed, dressed in a plain t-shirt and sleep pants, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with one hand.

He stopped mid-step.

Staring.

At you.

On the floor.

With Gojo’s face stuffed in your cleavage.

You froze. Wide-eyed.

“I—it’s not—! I didn’t—I mean—I was just—!”

Nanami blinked once. Then again.

A pause.

Then—

“I see,” he said simply. No judgment. No panic. No disgust. Just… neutral.

You scrambled to sit up, only for Gojo to tighten his hold again with a sleepy whine. “Don’t go…”

“I wasn’t—he—he’s the one who—I fell asleep—I didn’t mean to—!”

Nanami raised a hand gently. “It’s alright.”

You wanted to melt into the floor.

“I don’t usually drink,” you added quickly, heart racing. “They—they just kept giving me shots and I didn’t want to be rude and I—”

Nanami actually smiled. Small. Gentle. The corner of his mouth twitching upward like he found you mildly amusing.

“You don’t need to explain. I’ve seen worse. Especially from him.”

You exhaled in relief, cheeks still burning.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked.

You nodded furiously. “Please.”

He stepped closer. “Let me help.”

With quiet, careful hands, he crouched next to you, gently prying Gojo’s arm off your waist with the precision of someone who’d done this before.

Gojo whined again, reaching out blindly.

Nanami caught his hand mid-air. “Let. Her. Go.”

Gojo grunted, rolling onto his side with a groggy pout, arm flopping over a cushion instead.

You scrambled to your feet, wobbling slightly. Nanami reached out instinctively to steady you, one hand on your elbow.

“You’re pale,” he murmured. “Drink water first.”

You nodded again, grateful, and followed him toward the kitchen.

The apartment was quiet now. Only the soft hum of the fridge and the faint city buzz beyond the windows. The calm after last night’s storm.

Nanami moved through the kitchen like it was a sanctuary. Precise, measured, clean. He opened the cabinets, poured water into a glass, and handed it to you.

You drank it all in one go.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” you said, voice small.

He nodded. “Coffee?”

You watched him fill the pot, grind the beans, start the machine. He was calm. Soothing. A sharp contrast to Gojo’s chaos and Geto’s teasing touches.

“…Thank you,” you said quietly.

He glanced over. “For the coffee?”

“For… this. Not making it weird.”

He looked at you for a long moment. “You’re young. And they’re… overwhelming. You don’t need to match their energy to be accepted here.”

You blinked. “But if I don’t… won’t they think I’m boring?”

He gave a soft scoff. “You are boring. But in a good way.”

Your eyes widened.

He smirked. Just a little. “Stability is rare in a house like this. Don’t lose it.”

You stared at him, the thrum of your pulse still loud in your ears—but slower now. More grounded.

The coffee finished brewing, and Nanami poured two mugs. One he placed in front of you. The other he took for himself.

Outside, Gojo was snoring. Geto hadn’t moved.

The sun was starting to rise.

Nanami stood across from you, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed like he hadn’t yet fully settled into the day. He leaned back against the counter, arms folded as he watched you with that gentle intensity of his.

“So,” he said, his voice smooth but low, “how are you feeling?”

You blinked, holding the mug tighter. “Honestly? My head is trying to kill me.”

“Hangover,” he said. “Expected.”

“I didn’t plan on drinking that much,” you muttered.

“I know,” he nodded. “I saw them push you.”

“…You did?”

“I was watching from the hallway for a while,” he admitted. “I wanted to see how they’d treat you.”

You looked up, surprised.

Nanami’s expression was unreadable, but kind. “I don’t enjoy chaos. Especially when it involves people who deserve peace.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I didn’t even want to come here, honestly,” you confessed softly. “But I had nowhere else affordable. Everything’s so… much.”

He walked over slowly and placed his mug down beside yours. “If anything ever gets overwhelming—whether it’s Gojo, Geto, or Toji—call me. Even if I’m in my room. You knock. You call. I’ll help.”

You stared at him, warmth pooling in your chest for a different reason now. “You barely know me.”

“I’ll get to know you,” he said simply. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Sharing space. Respect. I believe in that.”

Your throat tightened slightly.

He pulled a chair out beside you and sat, more relaxed now. “So tell me. What do you like?”

“Um… in what way?”

Nanami gave a small chuckle. “Start anywhere.”

You took a breath. “I like quiet mornings. Reading… fantasy books. I don’t get much time for it lately. And I like dancing. But not in public.”

He nodded. “That tracks. You’re… a bit reserved.”

“That’s putting it nicely,” you said with a laugh.

He looked at you seriously. “That’s not an insult.”

Before you could answer, the kitchen door creaked open and Geto shuffled in, shirt rumpled, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, yawning hard and scratching his neck. “Damn, it’s bright in here.”

Nanami’s face hardened immediately. “Don’t start.”

“Huh?”

Nanami raised a brow. “Don’t play dumb, Geto. You and Gojo didn’t exactly make her feel safe last night.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Geto said, hands up in mock surrender. “It was all Gojo. I’m innocent.”

Nanami stared him down. “You sat next to her. Let him pour drink after drink. Watched her pass out.”

Geto smirked. “I was enjoying the company.”

“She’s not here to be entertainment.”

“I know,” Geto said softly, then glanced at you. “Sorry, by the way. If I crossed a line.”

Your mouth opened, surprised by the apology.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Nanami exhaled through his nose. “Just don’t make things harder.”

“I won’t,” Geto said. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Nanami glared.

“Okay, okay,” Geto grinned, grabbing a banana from the counter and peeling it dramatically. “Peace offering.”

Just then, the door to the living room swung open and Gojo’s head popped in, bright and mischievous.

“Morning, my favorite people!”

Nanami groaned softly. “No.”

Gojo ignored him entirely. “Guess what day it is?”

You blinked. “Saturday?”

“Getting to Know the New Roommate Day!” Gojo beamed. “It’s tradition. I just made it up.”

“No,” Nanami said.

“Yes,” Gojo said, already grabbing your wrist and tugging you up from the stool.

“C’mon, sunshine. Time to be interrogated by four emotionally stunted men.”

You half-laughed, half-panicked as he led you to the living room. Everyone was there now—Toji slouched on one side of the couch, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Geto followed behind with a fresh coffee in hand. Nanami was reluctantly taking a seat at the edge, clearly against this whole setup.

“Okay,” Gojo clapped, sitting in front of you, legs crossed like a kid at story time.

“Ground rules: you answer honestly, we each take turns. No skipping.”

“This feels illegal,” you said.

“Only mildly,” Geto smirked.

Nanami sighed. “Let’s get it over with.”

Gojo grinned. “I’ll start. What’s your biggest fear?”

You blinked. “That’s the first question?”

“Toji said I couldn’t ask if you were a top or bottom, so yeah,” Gojo shrugged.

Your jaw dropped. “What—?!”

Toji snorted under his breath.

“Okay, okay,” Geto cut in. “Let’s ease her into it. What’s your major?”

You glanced at him, grateful. “Economics.”

“Hot,” he said immediately.

Nanami groaned again.

Toji’s turn came, and he didn’t even pretend to think.

“Are you a virgin?”

Silence.

You went beet red. “I—excuse me?!”

Nanami sat up straight. “Toji.”

“What?” Toji said lazily. “Just wondering. She looks like it.”

“Don’t speak about her like that,” Nanami said coldly.

Toji smirked, amused. “It’s a question. She doesn’t have to answer.”

You opened and closed your mouth, utterly flustered.

Gojo leaned in again, smile wide. “Don’t worry, we’re just teasing. Though if you are, I can offer classes.”

“Gojo,” Nanami snapped.

Geto laughed. “Do not let him teach. He has a PowerPoint presentation and everything.”

“I’m gonna go hide in the bathroom,” you muttered, hiding behind a throw pillow.

“Wait, wait!” Gojo grinned. “One more—what do you think about us? Like, first impressions.”

You peeked out. “Honestly?”

All four leaned in.

You pointed. “Gojo—annoying but fun. Geto—too smooth, too dangerous. Nanami—terrifying but secretly sweet.”

“And me?” Toji asked, eyes sharp.

You paused. “You scare me.”

A long silence followed.

Toji leaned back slowly, lips twitching. “Good.”

Gojo clapped his hands again, eyes sparkling. “Okay, round two! This time we’re diving deeper.”

You squirmed slightly on the couch, still feeling the heat of Toji’s question from before burning your cheeks. Nanami sat stiffly beside you on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, jaw set like he was doing everything in his power not to explode.

Gojo pointed at you like a game show host. “If you had to marry one of us, who would it be?”

Your eyes widened. “What?!”

“C’mon, c’mon,” Gojo leaned in. “It’s a harmless game!”

“Harmless?” Nanami scoffed under his breath.

You looked around helplessly. Toji looked smug, Geto had a glint in his eye, and Gojo was practically vibrating.

“I—I don’t know you guys!” you stammered.

“Just on vibes,” Geto said smoothly, sipping his coffee.

“Don’t pressure her,” Nanami warned, voice low and firm.

“It’s a fun game,” Gojo said, hands up in mock surrender. “Besides, I’m clearly the best option.”

“Debatable,” Geto muttered.

Toji leaned forward suddenly, resting his arms on his knees, staring straight at you. “You looked the most scared of me. But scared can be good.”

You blinked. “W-what?”

He smirked, eyes narrowing slightly. “Sometimes fear keeps you alert. Keeps you obedient.”

“Enough,” Nanami cut in sharply, standing.

Toji didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

Nanami turned to you, his tone gentle now. “You don’t need to sit through this.”

You looked up at him, torn, but also not wanting to make it awkward. “I-it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“No, she’s fine,” Gojo chirped, draping himself across the arm of the couch. “Let’s keep going! Okay, next one—if you were stuck in a closet with one of us for seven minutes—”

Nanami exhaled hard. “I’m done.”

You flinched a little as he walked toward his room.

“Wait, Nanami,” you started, standing halfway.

“I’ll be in my room,” he said without looking back.

And with that, his door shut with a soft but firm click.

You stood awkwardly, heart thudding.

“Buzzkill,” Gojo sighed dramatically. “But not unexpected.”

You gave a weak laugh, shifting uncomfortably under their attention.

Gojo grinned at you. “Okay, serious one—how old were you when you learned what sex was?”

Your mouth opened in horror. “Wha—?!”

“Or,” Toji said, low and casual, “have you ever touched yourself?”

“Stop!” you said quickly, cheeks flaming.

Geto chuckled. “They’re monsters, I won’t lie.”

“I—this is too much,” you said, voice cracking slightly.

Toji looked at you, face unreadable now.

Gojo leaned back, hands up. “Okay, okay. We’ll stop. You win.”

Geto nodded. “Game over.”

Silence fell heavy and awkward for a moment. You sank back onto the couch, overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly.

Toji scoffed. “Don’t apologize. If you can’t handle it, just say so.”

Gojo suddenly leaned over, nudging your shoulder. “But if you ever do want to play that closet game, let me know.”

“Toji would punch you,” Geto muttered.

“Worth it,” Gojo smirked.

You buried your face in the couch cushion and groaned hoping if this torture would end soon.

to be continued in the next chapter

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