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tojikai · 1 year

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Sundered 5: QUARRELS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, explicit smut, arguments, implied noncon

word count: 6.8k

This is close enough for a beggar like him.

“When Yui turns three…” Satoru turns to look at you with a small smile and a look in his eyes that you know too well not to understand at a glance. “When Yui turns three?” You urged him to continue, “...we make another one. Hopefully, a baby boy.” He pulled you on top of him as you laughed fondly.

“I can’t even count on my fingers how many times you said that already.” You giggled, kissing his blushing face. “I can’t have you forgetting. It’s a must. We make cute babies.” He spoke each sentence in between pecks. “ Yeah, but she’s only 5 months old, Satoru.” You put your head on his chest, feeling him caress your hair.

“I know, but I wanna tell you in advance.” Moments like this make you forget about all the problems and fights that you have with him. “But we’re gonna get married first, of course.” You looked up at him, watching his eyes glimmer. “You’re asking me to marry you?” You poked his side.

“Of course, what else am I gonna do with you?” He flips you over, kissing your neck and chest before attempting to pull the straps of your nighties down your shoulders. “This is for your daughter, don’t even try.” You pointed a finger at his nose as he pouted, “She’s asleep. Can’t I get a sip?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you making you giggle.

“What is going on with you?” He kissed your lips, joining you in your joy. Just two days ago, you and Satoru were screaming at each other’s faces because of how he got angry at you for talking back to his mother. She came into his house, trying to fight you because you got Yui’s ears pierced. You and Satoru agreed on it, but he didn’t like that you ‘talked back’ to his mom.

And now, it’s all gone. Washed away by his touches. Drowned away by his kisses and moans. “Remember when we did this while you were pregnant?” You could hear his smirk as he nibbled on your skin. You're now lying sideways with your hand holding one of your legs up. His strong arms were wrapped around your waist, caressing your lower stomach.

“Gonna put another one here in a few years.” He grunted when you reached for his hair, pressing him closer to you. “Satoru…” His breath on the shell of your ear only made you heat up more. You sobbed as his thrust got faster and harder. “Yeah, you want that.” He bit your ear lightly as you arched your back, whimpering.

You were just about to tell him that you’re close but Satoru got your body memorized. His hand was already trailing down to your womanhood, fingers rubbing on your nub as he coaxed you to your climax and followed shortly after. He finished inside you with your name flowing smoothly out of his lips. You stayed in the same position; with him still inside you as he pushed your legs together.

It was only one of those nights that made you believe that you’d be together until the end.

“...a new one?” Satoru’s voice snapped you back to reality. “Hm?” You turned to him, seeing that he was already staring at you. Yesterday, you and Toji fought. And today, you did again. Is the honeymoon phase they were saying already over? You gritted your teeth. “Are you still thinking about it?” Satoru’s voice was laced with concern as he drove.

Yesterday afternoon, you and Toji were talking about how much louder it gets when there are more kids around. Other than Yuuji, a little girl from their neighborhood named Nobara also joined—a name Yui cannot pronounce correctly but kept saying anyway.

With four children running around the house, you and Toji could only communicate with eyes, teasing like a married couple planning for an addition. You two could only joke around the topic, though, knowing how serious and how big a responsibility it will be.

Besides, your relationship is still young and you would like to get married first before taking a step like that. But marriage still feels pretty far for you and Toji.

“Look, I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like that.” Satoru tried to comfort you. “His wife used to do that stuff and now he’s just sharing it with you.” He explained. You can’t help but feel like you were being petty. The kids had a playdate and you thought that making a bit of juice for their picnic would give them a better experience.

Toji started randomly talking about how his wife had little cousins and she refused to give them juice until they were 5 because it’s terrible for toddlers’ health. And though, you understand this, the way he said it just put you off. You felt like he was comparing you to her and you just didn’t like the way it made you feel.

Before, there were times when he would mindlessly say that his wife introduced something to him or taught him to do something and you would think that he was probably just reminiscing. But now you just felt…sensitive. It just felt like you still had to compete even if there was no one to compete with.

“He’s probably just suggesting.” Satoru tried to explain for Toji, something you didn’t think would ever happen because they’re almost always wordless around one another. “Suggesting what? That I should do what his first wife did? And today he got upset that Yui and I would leave early to go with you.” Satoru sighed, nodding slowly.

Ever since that night, he’s been a lot more calm, more patient, and more careful with everything he does. “We should’ve canceled and moved it another day.” You looked at him, disbelief flashing on your face.

“Y/N, he’s your boyfriend now. It’s not good to leave a fight without talking first, even just for reassurance.” Whatever he’s been learning at counseling is definitely working, you thought. When he first told you about it, you didn't know how to react. Probably because you know that the cause of your problems is not just him. But also his mother.

“I told him we’ll talk later. He just doesn’t like that we have to spend time around each other like this.” Your voice was quieter. To be honest, you don’t know how to deal with that because it concerns your daughter too. “We can…we can just reduce times like this to milestones like birthdays and school events when she’s finally in school,” Satoru spoke, clearing his throat.

“I don’t think it’s that important anyway, Yui will understand that we’re separated soon. She’s growing fast.” You glanced at your daughter as she waves at the passing cars. Satoru’s right. “Yeah, I’ll just…I’ll talk to him about it.” Satoru probably doesn’t want it like that, but nowadays, he’s been…different. In a good way.

“By the way, I have a…my previous car. Do you remember? The one before this.” He asked, “Your car always breaks down. I mean…You can have it. So, you won’t have to take a cab when you take Yui to daycare, go to work, or pick her up from my place.” You can tell that he was nervous to ask you about it.

“Actually, if you want. I can ask Toji, so he won’t think of it as anything.” You looked away, thinking. You’re not the only one who has a significant other here; Naomi might think of it as something too. “You have to tell Naomi too.” You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat.

Silence enveloped the three of you for several minutes until Satoru spoke again. “My counselor said it’s easy to mistake comfort for love.” Taking a deep breath, you chose your words carefully. “You can learn to love people and things.” There was a long pause along as you reached his house. You checked on Yui to find out that she fell asleep.

“That sounds like resignation, Y/N. Love doesn’t need conditions.” He mumbled, looking at his lap. “Let’s go, she’s getting uncomfortable.” You took Yui’s things before following him inside his house. “Don’t forget her vitamins, Satoru.” Humming, he opened the door for you with your sleeping daughter in his arms.

To his surprise, the lights were on and there, his mother and Naomi sat on his couch.

“You took so long. Did you forget about your girlfriend?” His mother was the first to speak. “Why are you here, Mom? You’re early, Naomi.” Naomi glanced at you with a look on her face that you can’t quite read. There’s nothing sinister about it, in fact, she looked nervous.

“She’s early because she won’t be working full days anymore.” You stood there awkwardly, feeling invisible before Satoru took a step closer to you, “Since she’ll be a part of the family soon, I asked your father if he can take it easy on her workload. Lovers should spend time with each other as much as they can.” His mother continues, emphasizing the word ‘family’ as she gave a mocking glance your way.

She never once considered you as one. Not that you want to be related in any way to someone like her. You scoffed inside your head, seeing Satoru glance at you. “We do spend enough time together.” He spoke, “And why are you deciding for her, Mom?” He took the bags in your hand, “Let’s go to Yui's room.”

“It’s okay, I won’t be staying for long anyway, I just wanted to drop her off.” After taking Yui to an inflatable indoor park, Satoru bought her a Hello Kitty cake just as you were about to go home. The kid was excited to open the cake with you, but you were reluctant because you don’t really want to be around Naomi. After being assured by Satoru that Naomi wasn’t supposed to come over until Friday, you finally agreed.

You should’ve trusted your gut, because here she is with Satoru’s mom, like a cherry on top.

“I’ll take you home, let’s just put her to bed, then we’ll go.” The child stirred in her sleep, adjusting her head on his shoulder, “Mama, cake.” She murmured, probably dreaming about her food. You looked at Satoru, catching him already staring at you and something tells you it’s gonna be alright even with these two people who seemingly want you out of your own daughter’s life.

“We’ll talk later,” Satoru spoke to them, gently nudging you toward your daughter’s room. “There’s literally nothing to talk about, son. We just wanted to make the two of you more free for each other. Can’t have others hogging all of your attention from your lover. She won’t appreciate that. Isn’t that right, Y/N?” You paused, glancing at Satoru.

“With your new boyfriend, doesn’t it irritate you when he uses his time for other things?” You can tell that his mother is trying to elicit a reaction from you. “The only thing my boyfriend does other than work is take care of his son. And I will never put myself in between them.” Before his mother could even say anything, Satoru quickly took the stage.

“I said later, Mom. Naomi and I will talk. It’s our relationship.” With that, he walked with you into Yui’s room, closing the door behind him, careful not to wake his daughter up. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t think they’d be here.” You took Yui’s shoes and jacket off, before letting Satoru put her down. “I know, it’s okay.” Kissing Yui’s forehead, you could hear him whisper curse words.

“Hey.” You can tell he’s more than upset. This is probably more painful and exhausting to him than you thought. “I don’t know anymore, Y/N.” He turned away from you, running his hand over his face, “This. This is what’s making my life harder.” He gestured towards the door, referring to his mother. “This is what made our life harder.” You caught him saying as he shook his head.

“Just talk to them. Maybe there's a reason for this. She’s just naturally hostile with me.” You shrugged, knowing that he was speaking the truth. “That’s the point. She’s pointlessly hostile and she thinks she can decide for me.” Turning to you, there was redness in his eyes.

Satoru didn’t want to seem like he was asking you for comfort. He refused to give you that before, he’d be shameless if he wanted you to hold him. “Let’s go. I’ll explain to Yui, we’ll call you later.” Blinking hard before opening the door, Satoru knows better than to allow his mother near you. You never told him but he knows that she slapped you when she came to your house.

They fought about it when he went to their mansion. Thankfully, his father backed him up with a speech about protective orders which shut her down. It pained him to be like that to his mom but he can’t just have her abusing you just because she can.

Satoru walked beside you, covering you from his mother. “Satoru…” Naomi called out but his mother quickly spoke, “Doesn’t she have a car? Did it break down again? Ah, like before, when she wanted someone to take her home.” There was no hint of amusement in Naomi’s eyes, probably clueless as to what she was talking about.

“I’m calling Dad to pick you up.” With that, he continued walking, leaving his mother with an angry look on her face. “That’d be good. He will be here to discuss things since he’s her boss. He might even give her a vacation. You and Naomi can go out of the country. Get close, plan things like marriage, children—” Stopping in his tracks, Satoru turned with his jaws clenched.

“You know what? Maybe I shouldn’t leave my daughter here. After all, you threatened to take her away.” Walking back to Yui’s room, Satoru didn’t think twice as he grabbed your hand, making Naomi tense up. “Can she stay with you tonight? I’ll get her tomorrow.” He murmured, breathing hard as he picked his daughter up again.

“You think I’ll kidnap my own granddaughter, look what she’s making you think.” You can hear his mom as you rush to take Yui’s things. Whining, Yui covered her ears as Satoru walked her out of the room with you beside him. “I don’t need to kidnap Yui to get her away, her own mother isn’t even capable, what makes you think—” Satoru cut her off when he stood in front of her.

“I’m filing a restraining order.” He spoke, voice low as he tried to stay respectful despite what he was saying, “Against you.” His mother’s eyes widened in surprise, “Come on.” Ushering you out, and leaving his mother stunned. Opening the door for you, he then proceeded to fix his daughter in her car seat.

“Mama why?” You shushed her, caressing her hair, “We’ll eat cake at home.” You smiled at her, trying your best not to sound panicked before closing the door to finally get in the car. Satoru was about to get in the driver’s seat but Naomi came out of the house and ran to him. Glancing at you, she held his hand, “We’ll talk about it later.” He told her, checking if his mother followed.

“Can’t you just…” Naomi was about to say something but held back, grabbed his collar, pulling him down to kiss his lips. You almost immediately looked away, seeing from your peripheral vision how she put Satoru’s arms around her waist. “Come home quick.” She whispered not so quietly at him. Getting in the car, you wondered if his mom told her about it.

“Naomi…” Satoru sighed, pulling away before looking at you with a concerned look in his eyes as he nodded away at her words. Leaving her, Satoru entered the car and started it. She stood there with a mixed look on her face that screams how irritated and upset she is with the events.

“You don’t have to file a restraining order against her. She’s still your mother.” You didn’t have to say that but you felt like you’re the reason why there’s a gap between them now. “She’s not good for Yui. I can’t have her around speaking about you like that in front of her.” He was breathing hard. “Can you calm down? You’re driving.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, before taking a deep breath. “I hope she won’t be there when I come back. I can deal with it on my own, whatever Naomi and I have to talk about.” He ranted, “I wish she didn’t intervene so much in everything I do. I feel like the decisions I made aren’t even mine.” He rarely talked like this back then. Actually, you rarely interacted like this back then.

“How’s…” Hesitating, he swallowed before continuing his question, “How’s Toji’s family to you?” He asked softly as if the information he’ll get can break him even more. It probably would. “He’s not that close to them, so they don’t really know much about us. I’ve met them twice when we picked up Megumi. They treat us kindly.” You glanced at him, seeing him purse his lips.

“That’s good for you. You won’t have to deal with something like this.” Satoru wanted to say that he’ll cut ties with his mother to protect you; to be with you. But knowing you, you’ll probably feel like it’s your fault and he doesn’t want that.

He’s aware that his mother influenced the decisions he made in the past. Talking to someone about it made him realize how wrong he approached things with you and how easily he let himself be swayed by the instant gratification that he felt when he gave up on your relationship.

None of it was worth it.

—--------------------------------------------------

Three Days Ago

“I can’t do that,” Naomi spoke as she tried to lean away from Satoru’s mom. They met at a cafe near her neighborhood. She was supposed to ask for advice, but it quickly turned into plotting how to lock Satoru to her. “Listen, Y/N was able to keep Satoru with her because they have a child together.” She tapped a sharp nail on the table.

Naomi would be lying if she said that she didn’t think about using that to get more of his time. She admit that she thought of a way to make him have a kid with her, even trying to lie about her safe day to make him do it inside her. She didn’t think that hearing it come from someone else can sound so sick and twisted.

If Satoru doesn’t want the kid, what’s going to happen to me; to us?

“Why are you worried? I’ve been in the same situation and I’m telling you, Satoru kept his father for me.” Naomi’s eyebrows bumped together as she thought of how easy it was for her to say something like that. “You did that to his father?” She asked in disbelief, wanting nothing but to go but desperate enough to stay.

“Not intentionally. But had I not told him, his ex-wife wouldn’t have left us alone and he wouldn’t have stopped running after her.” She took a sip of her coffee, making her seem so chill with her story. Naomi knows all of it for Satoru once told her. She just thought that his mother really baby-trapped his dad to make him stay.

Can Naomi really do that?

“You won’t baby trap my son, you just let him come to you. Attract him like you did back then.” She nodded at Naomi. “I just wanted to help him, then. I didn’t try to seduce him.” She defended herself, “But you did drink with him a few times? Tell me you didn’t get seductive with him during those nights.” She dared, and Naomi looked down.

She remembers telling him how she liked his eyes and how he was too hot to bury himself in problems. She also remembers nonchalantly telling him how he caught her eye when she first saw him. She knows that she liked to think of him and Yui as her own little family even before they started dating and she remembers promising him that they can make it work.

Was Naomi really being just a friend to him then? Or was she already falling for him when she tried to become what he needs during those times?

“Y/N was confident that she’ll get Satoru back and that’s why she let her guard down. Now, if you want to be her so much then, be happy-go-lucky and watch him dump you.” She shook her head, and the words easily got Naomi thinking twice. She’s not trying to be like you. She’s better than you.

She’s better for him than you.

“Why do you hate her so much?” Naomi suddenly asked, thinking out loud as she carefully thought about her decision. I mean, she didn’t really do anything to me.” If she’s going to think about it, other than the misunderstandings— which were probably caused by something offensive she did or said—you’re never antagonistic towards her.

“She ruined my son’s life. I shouldn’t have expected anything knowing how she got him, but she even had the nerve to try and make him do all the work. She’s probably just after the money..” No matter how hard she tried to recall, Naomi can’t remember him sighing over having Yui with you. “And you think she didn’t really do anything to you? You’re a bit naive.” Naomi’s forehead puckered at her statement.

“Didn’t you notice how she got a new man only now when it started looking like Satoru’s sure about you?” His mother might just be overthinking things but it didn’t help that the changes in her and Satoru’s relationship were almost perfectly timed with you getting a boyfriend. But what if it’s just Satoru? It could’ve been a coincidence, right?

Realizing how she was trying to convince herself in her mind, Naomi only felt worse. Maybe she really has to do something. After all, she swore to him that they can make it work. She’s not someone to just back down and give up on the one she loves when things get tough.

She’s better than you, and unlike you, she won’t run away; she’ll fight for their relationship.

—------------------------------------------

Arriving home, Yui was already wide awake. “...then, Dad will be back to buy a new cake with Yui! How’s that?” Satoru kissed her cheek as he put her down on the couch. The little girl got upset that her dad has to go so soon. She just stood there wordlessly, leaning on the couch as she refused to look at Satoru.

“It’s okay, I’ll talk to her. She’s just grumpy because her nap was disturbed.” Walking towards the little girl, you sat down and put her on your lap. “Say bye, now.” You pushed the stray hairs away from her face and Satoru can’t help but admire how much he missed just seeing the two of you waiting for him on his couch.

Yui was younger then; much smaller in your arms. And he felt like a real husband coming home to his wife and child when you’d be there, watching TV when he got home from work. It’s been more than a year now, he just thinks he’s lucky enough to still be close to you again.

You’re not as close as he wants you to be but this is more than enough for a beggar like him.

Leaning down to give your daughter a kiss, she turned away from him. “Yui, that’s not nice.” Her mouth was quivering but you know her too well. “You better go, they’re waiting for you there.” You looked at him but he only stared at you, sighing deeply. You felt like it was the hundredth time today.

He looked so worn out; like he was just ready to drop as soon as he gets these things out of his tail. You wondered if you looked like this to him back then, too. Probably not this bad because you don’t have a meddlesome mother who keeps trying to put her finger in the pie.

Before Satoru could answer, a knock on the door was heard. The door opened and a little boy holding his sippy cup stood by the doorway. Toji held the doorknob, staring at you and Satoru. What time is it? You thought. You remembered telling him that you’d be back by 4 in the afternoon. Yui was quick to jump from your lap.

“Dada! ‘Gumi! Dada! ‘Gumi!” She squealed at them and you could feel Satoru tense up beside you. She had been told by Toji about it, but hearing it from her friend isn’t helping at all. Megumi looked up at Satoru before looking at Yui. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s my name?” Toji bent down to pick her up when she kept stomping her feet and reaching up at him.

“Dada!” She laughed, before pointing at Megumi who was now taking his little bag from his father’s hand. “You’ll play later. Listen, tell your Dada what my name is.” Toji repeated just as Satoru regained his composure. “It’s alright,” He chuckled, “She probably thought you’re her Dada because you take care of her. And her mom.” You wanted to stop him, feeling bad that he had to pretend that he's cool about this.

Yui’s first word was ‘Dada’ and you could still remember how happy he was when he got her to say it before ‘Mama’. You can’t stand the thought of that memory becoming painful for him. “I gotta go, I’ll just pick her up again tomorrow.” He whispered to you, before nodding to Toji. “Bye, love. See you, tomorrow.” He waved at Yui, faking a smile before rushing to leave.

Yui waved back at him before wiggling out of Toji’s arms. She rushed to get her toys when he put her down. “She’s…she’s a kid” Biting your lip, you breathed out through your nose before walking to Toji and putting your arms around him. “Don’t run.” He called out to the children as giggled their way to Yui’s room. “I feel bad. I’m gonna talk to him later.” You mumbled.

Toji kissed your forehead before you pulled him to your room. “What’s going on?” He asked you, sitting on the bed. “Are you worried?” You asked, straddling him. “I am.” He answered, ignoring your actions. You looked up at him with a frown, remembering the misunderstanding that you had. “Why was he here?”

“Look, he just had to drop me and Yui off because his mother was in his house—” He cut you off, leaning away a bit from you. You know that you didn’t tell him that you were going to Satoru’s house with Yui because you were still upset about your argument the other day and earlier this morning.

“You told me the time but you can’t tell me where you were going?” Perplexity was clear on his face, “I didn’t want to agitate you further. I wouldn’t tell you right now if there’s another reason why I’m there except for Yui.” You tried to explain, feeling him put you beside him on the bed. “Y/N, that’s not the point.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Then, what is? I wasn’t planning to stay for long.” You kicked off your shoes, before turning to him. “Look, I’m sorry, ok? I just thought you were mad because of earlier.” You hugged his arm, putting your forehead on his shoulder. “And I was still upset.” Kicking his own shoes off, Toji pulled you on top of him as he leaned back on the headboard

“You have to tell me why you’re upset. It can’t be just the orange juice.” He spoke, grabbing your face as he kissed you. You moaned, breathing into him as you opened your mouth, letting his tongue find yours. His grunts sent vibrations to your core as you press yourself against him.

“Did you lock the door?” He murmured, taking off your cardigan before putting his hands on your buttocks. “Yeah, don’t worry.” You quickly took off your shirt before going back to kissing him, completely forgetting about what he was asking from you.

“As long as we can hear the laughs, they’re fine.” He chuckled, unclasping your bra before taking a nipple in his mouth. “Oh…” You moaned rubbing on his shoulders and tugging at the fabric of his sweater. His other fingers tweaked at your bud as he stared up at you, lustful eyes taking away your worries.

You really just don’t want to tell him that the mention of his wife is starting to trigger you.

Taking off the clothing, he flipped you on your back, removing your belt and jeans. His lips trailed kisses on your thighs as he go, massaging your calves before parting your legs, making you inhale sharply. “We can’t drag this long. Come here.” You giggled, ushering him to hover over you. “You know how they are…” You moaned when he started to kiss your neck.

His tongue and teeth bring pleasure and a bit of sting on your skin. “You just want it that much.” Winking at you, he discarded his remaining clothes before hovering over your womanhood. He smirked as he slid your underwear down, kissing your pearl. “Toji…” You whined, worried that this might get cut short if he doesn’t hurry.

“Alright, alright. I can’t just stick in. Let’s see…” Spreading your lips with two fingers, he eyed your heat with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly ajar, you can’t help but rock your hips against his hand, desperate for friction. Your eyes shut close when he put a finger in, slowly at first, before speeding up when he added a second one.

Toji panted, stroking his member when he felt you squeeze his digits. You’re dripping and he’s starting to ache. “Fuck.” He muttered as he leaned over to go for your lips, kissing you hard. He growled in your mouth when you whimpered as he rubbed on your pearl while massaging the sensitive spot inside you.

Pulling away when your legs started to tremble, Toji hissed as he tapped his head on the bundle of nerves before rubbing his length on your wet folds to lube himself up. “Toji, please.” You cupped your mounds, looking up at him. Seeing you like this drove him crazy, he had to hold back from just slamming himself into you.

Grabbing a pillow and putting it under your hips, Toji prodded your entrance with his tip. He opened your legs wider, taking in the sight of you being stretched and his shaft disappearing slowly until he was fully in. Leaning on the bed with one hand, he grabbed your jaw with the other and silenced your moans with his kisses.

“You can’t let them hear you.” He murmured as he clenches his jaw, pressing his nose on your cheeks and kissing it. He was moving steadily inside of you and whispering words of praises to your ear, “You take me so well now.” He teased you, groaning whenever your hole fluttered around him.

You gasped when Toji pushes your legs to your chest, pounding deeper into you as he sings your name like you do to his. His thrusts were unrelenting, merciless as he slams himself into you. Soon enough, your walls were starting to convulse and your nails were clawing on his arm.

“Come on. Let it go, hon.” You closed your eyes, feeling your chest throb at the nickname he used but the surges of pleasure that took over your senses flooded it out. Your hand covered your mouth, eyes rolling back as you writhed underneath him, coming undone with a cry of delight escaping your lips.

Your thighs trembled under his touch as he continued to rut into you, desperate for his high. “Oh fuck…Oh, Y/N.” Feeling your walls spasm and contract around him, he hurriedly pulled out and spilled his load on your womanhood. A sight to see, he thought as he watched your thighs still shaking from the pleasure.

“Wait a minute," Reaching over to your cabinet, Toji took the box of tissues before wiping you and himself clean. Hearing the jolly screams from the other room made you both laugh to yourself. "That's too quick. We gotta continue this later." He winked, throwing the tissues away before getting on the bed with you.

"Definitely." You let out a tired laugh as you put your head on his shoulder, sighing as the heavy feeling settled on top of your chest. Why did you have to remember him just from that word alone? Toji tilted your head up for a passionate kiss, blurring away the image of your ex inside your head.

“I have a request, though.” You looked down, avoiding his curious gaze. “Can you….can we not use ‘hon’?” You don’t know how weirdly you phrased the question until you looked at Toji to see him looking puzzled. “I mean…this is the first time you called me that and I’m, uh, not really comfortable with that. “

“Yeah, alright. But why?” Maybe you should’ve thought this through. You know Toji’s been getting moody whenever you two talk about anything concerning Satoru. You can’t really blame him after what happened that night. “I just… don’t feel it.” You lied, shrugging. “It’s not that bad, though. I could get used to it.” You smiled up at him, pecking his lips.

“Alright, I think I know.” He exhaled harshly, standing up from the bed to grab your clothes. Great. You just ruined the moment. “Are you mad?” You sat up, watching him get dressed. “No, I just wanna check on the kids.” He is mad. You clicked your tongue, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Babe, I just don’t want to–“

“Y/N. I said alright. I can’t do anything about it, anyway.” That doesn’t fix anything. “A lot of people use that, I just don’t get why you keep getting affected.” You stared at him, baffled. “It’s not like I want to do that. I can’t help my mind, there was a memory attached to that word.”

You stood up to get a robe, “You know that it’s not easy for me, too. I told you.” You uttered, watching his back through your vanity mirror as he stood still. “Maybe if you stop relating everything to him, then it won’t be so hard.” With that, he left the room and you don’t know if you’re hurt or just shocked that he would say something like that to you.

Because he does that to you too. And you thought that he, of all people, should understand where you’re coming from.

—————————————-

Satoru slid the door open with force, seeing Naomi flinch as she was startled by the sound. “Where’s mom?” He asked, breathing hard and eager to just put an end to the craziness she was doing. “I convinced her that we’ll be fine.” She walked to him, smiling as she put her arms around his neck.

“We just need to catch up on each other, I feel like we’ve been too occupied these days.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck, kissing the skin as she rubbed his nape with a soft, delicate hand. “Yeah, we got a lot to talk about.” Satoru put a hand on the small of her back. “But first, you gotta tell me what that was about.”

“I just invited her over. I didn’t know Y/N would be here, sorry.” She sighed, before dragging him to the couch. Satoru kept thinking about the scene before he left your house. That was just a lot to take in, especially when he just fought with his mother. “I got no work tomorrow, we can stay up all night.” She giggled, taking off her cardigan.

“Let’s have a couple of drinks during dinner. I’ll cook for you.” She proposed, walking to the kitchen. Checking his phone, he found himself expecting a text from you. None. You don’t give a fuck about him. He sighed, It’s okay. As long as I can see themi, he thought. He just hoped that you’d ask how things went in his house. Or if he’s hurt about ‘Dada’ Toji. All the things he shouldn’t expect.

Guess, I’ll fucking die of jealousy, then. He clenched his teeth proceeding to his bedroom. “I’ll wash up.” He spoke to Naomi, “Go on, baby. I’ll be making dinner.” She answered, glancing his way. If she’s going to be honest, she wanted to skip the talks. The truth is Naomi’s afraid of what he’ll say if she confronts him with her real thoughts.

She could easily skip those steps, and get to her goal.

Goal? Naomi’s movements halt as she realized how she sounded. She’s not a bad person, she thought. Is she really gonna do this? “If you want to be her so much then, be happy-go-lucky and watch him dump you.” Naomi’s breath hitched when his mother’s words reverberated in her head.

She can’t lose him. Not now when they’re almost settling down. She’s not being a monster, she’s not baiting him. He’ll come to her on his own like he did before. She’s just going to make him see that she’s good for him.

Dinner time came and she prepared it more than ordinary, hoping to ignite a light in him. It’s not usual for a woman to start something like this but Naomi’s different. As she said, she’ll fight for him. “Wow, is this a date?” Satoru chuckled sitting down in front of her seat. “I just wanted to rekindle. Your mom’s right, we’re just drifting away. I can’t stand that happening.”

Walking to her chair, Naomi stopped by him and kissed his cheek. Satoru on the other hand, can’t help but feel bad. He’s sure that nothing will change even if they do this. “Try. She’s a good person.” He quickly downed a drink, letting it take your voice away. Not because he doesn’t want to listen to you, but because he’s not sure if he can do it.

The dinner went by quickly, and they were just discussing over drinks. He can’t even count how many he downed when she started talking about how you look more plump. “They might beat us in giving Yui a sibling.” She joked, laughing because she didn’t know what was in his head. “I doubt it, she wanna get married first.” He replied monotonously before opening up about his counseling sessions.

“Counselling?” She asked. The topic is incredibly close to what Satoru’s about to confess. She stared at her wide eyes as he nodded. “Were you having problems? Baby, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you.” Her concern was sincere and it made him feel like a villain. “I wanted to be better for Yui.” And for Y/N.

Clueless, she gave him a fond stare. “You’re a great father. Y/N knows that.” There were times during the dinner when Satoru was so close to spitting out the truth to her but the effort she put in just to make that food on the table makes him feel remorseful.

Satoru knows that it’s not right. But just for tonight, after all the months that he made him feel tranquil, he can spare her heart for a night or two. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want to break her heart. But staying would only mean that she’s never going to get what she wants and deserves.

“I’ll be brushing my teeth then, get to bed. The drink got to me.” He laughed, holding the chair as he stood up. “Thank you so much. For everything.” She came to hug him, kissing his lips as she murmured words of adoration to him. “Go ahead, you’re all red, can you walk?” She joked, before pushing him to go, “I’ll be with you in a few. I feel really sleepy now, too.”

It’s been almost half an hour. Naomi checked on Satoru to find him sleeping soundly already. Not even her slam of the door woke him up. She stared at herself in the mirror, “I’m really gonna do this.” She exhaled, closing her eyes before going walking out of the bathroom. He’s still in the same position as before.

Stepping closer, Naomi removed her silk robe, revealing her night dress. She clenched her fist tightly, before quickly releasing it just to try and get rid of the tension in her body. She sat on the bed, touching his chest and abs. Hearing him moan when she got to his lower part calmed her slightly. Just like we always do, she repeated in her head, kissing his skin.

“I’m sorry, Satoru…” She whispered one last time.

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bunny-lily · 4 months

Text

Tether Me - Chapter 3

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: Your soul housed a violent anathema whose sole purpose was to torment you with the notion that nowhere is safe. You can’t stay here, you can’t stay there, you can’t stay anywhere.

It reminded you of that one immortal snail hypothetical. No matter where you went, it would always follow you.

If that was the case, then, where was that feeling now?

The bickering boys in front of you, the idyllic mountains that curtained the shallow canyon, this cozy home and the terrifying one you owned – why didn’t they spur that fight-or-flight instinct in you? What was different about Japan, about this location?

Why did breathing feel so easy?

AN: Additional tag warnings: suggestive content, smut, masturbation, degrading names/language to self. There is 1 (one) mention of reader being mildly interested in nutrition facts. Just a small warning. It's very, very brief, but I figured I'd better be safe.

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 14.7k

“Whatcha makin’?” Satoru grilled you. Again.

He was relaxing on his forearms on the kitchen island, right leg bouncing on the circular step of the barstool, having pestered you for the nth time in the last 20 minutes alone.

You ignored him, focusing on whipping the egg whites, occasionally sprinkling more of the sugar you set aside into the mix. He had an electric mixer, one of those super pricey ones, too, but you preferred doing it by hand. Your entire arm was killing you, but you had better control like this.

You also just didn’t know how to operate the electric mixer.

You were pleasantly surprised to find that he already had all the ingredients you needed – ‘Ijichi tries to bake sometimes. He chars the cookies every time, though.’ – so a trip to Granny’s shop was spared. As was the trip to the bakery, that was pushed aside for another day.

Satoru’s and Suguru’s eyes were needling into your back, way too intense and nerve-wracking for comfort for such a menial task. You weren’t expecting them to both want to watch you fulfill your promise to make something for the former.

You also weren’t anticipating the latter’s presence, the added weight of his appearance making your wrist shake, and it wasn’t from exerting yourself with the egg whites.

“You could just use the stand mixer,” Gojo informed you.

He reminded you of an impatient bee; buzzing around you, epicurious about anything sweet, and a bit annoying. Otherwise harmless, so long as you didn’t try to steal said sweets.

“Yes, I know, thank you,” you replied flatly. “I prefer whisking by hand, though.”

“Why? That just seems tiring.”

It was, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “It’s easier for me to discern the stiffness of the peaks this way.”

“But it takes so long,” he complained, then added an extra few choice words under a whisper. “I’ll make your peaks stiff…”

Suguru chimed in. “Be patient, Satoru. Baking takes time, you can’t rush the process.”

You were quick to become very appreciative of that man. He was the real angel on your shoulder, supporting you and defending you from his best friend’s complete and utter gremlin chaos.

“But it takes so loooong,” the aforementioned gremlin whined louder.

Suguru groaned quietly and extended an apologetic smile to you when you pivoted to look at them. Satoru had his head laid down on the counter, nose smushed and stupidly long arms stretched out across the surface. You ruffled his hair as you passed him to grab the baking tray and paper he found for you earlier.

He tilted his head enough to show you a closed-eye mien of happiness, lips curled like the Chesire cat’s. He really did remind you of a feline a lot of the time, he downright purred when you ran your fingers through his enviously soft tresses.

Shit. You wanted to touch them again.

You retrieved the tray and strutted back to your bowl of semi-prepared batter. “Do you want me to tell you what I’m making now, or do you want it to be a surprise?”

His head popped up. “Now! Wait– no, no, surprise! Oh, wait, no, hang on,” he rambled, warring with indecision.

Suguru met your gaze and stood up from the stool he’d picked out, coming to stand beside you and bending so you were face-to-face. “I’d like to know now, if you’re willing to divulge,” he pointed at himself, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

You made a show of deliberating his request, pressing the side of your index finger against your bottom lip as you tapped your toe and furrowed your brow. Your eyes sparkled as you beckoned him closer with your hand, choosing to heed his request, and motioned for him to turn his head to the side.

Having him this close to you was making your heart flutter like a canary behind the protective bars of its cage, chirping and tweeting. The warmth of his skin radiated in pleasant waves towards you, and the notes of his aura grazed against your cheeks once more; warm chai on a mellow night.

This was dangerous, yet you craved more.

You noticed the gauges in his lobes as he did so, appreciating the disks of deep blue as you leaned closer and cupped your hand around his ear, whispering into it.

He rose back up with an approving nod. “Oh, he’ll like those. Keep it a secret.”

“What!?” Satoru cried out, rounding the island sharply and closing the distance between you in two steps. “That’s cruel! You can’t just tell him, then not tell me!”

You patted his chest and lightly bumped him out of the way with your hip. “Sorry, it’s two-to-one. You’ll have to be patient to find out. I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to guess, anyway.”

“Is it too late to kick you out?”

“Yes,” Suguru answered in your stead. “She’s baking something for you, she gets to bully you a little in return.”

“Thank you, Geto-san,” you bowed exaggeratedly to him, then began folding the batter and adding drops of food coloring to it.

Satoru sulked. “She doesn’t bully me a little, she bullies me a lot.”

The kokushoku-haired boy clapped his hand on the other’s shoulder. “It’s good for you. Character growth, it’ll teach you some humility.”

“Oi! Who’s side are you on, anyway?” He accused him with a pointed finger pressing into his chest.

Suguru raised his hands by his shoulders in mock surrender, a shit-eating grin pinching his cheeks. “Hey, I’m just the mediator here.”

“‘Mediator’ my ass. You’re just defending her because she’s making cookies–”

“Not cookies,” you and Suguru corrected in sync.

“–or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes, muffling a laugh against the back of your hand while you scooped the batter into a piping bag. You’d have to replace it later and leave an apology note for Ijichi. Not that they were used much, from what you could tell. Once the bag was full, you twisted the top shut and snipped the bottom to let the round tip free, fighting to not make any terribly tasteless dick jokes in the process.

You couldn’t do that in polite company.

Polite company was Geto.

Satoru and Suguru bickered back and forth behind you as you concentrated on piping facile, even circles onto the baking sheet. That was the hardest part for you, getting them to be symmetrical. You had to flaunt your skill. You had an audience of two stupidly attractive men awaiting your results.

You released the breath you were holding when you finished the last row, smug that they were all perfect. You set aside the nearly empty plastic bag and lifted the tray an inch off the counter and dropped it a few times, shaking loose any bubbles.

Whooh, the majority of your work was done now.

The tray got pushed aside to let the batter rest while you cleaned up your station of a few things. “Satoru.”

“And you– ah?” He answered, pulled out of his boyish spat. “What?”

“French, American, Swiss, or Italian?”

“Uh…” He gave you a flat, confused squint while you and Suguru waited for his decision. “American…?”

“Good choice,” you nodded, relieved you wouldn’t need to do any more heavy lifting. For this, you could use the stand mixer. After you figured it out, that is, but you had plenty of time to do that now.

Except for the fact that it was on top of the fridge.

For some fucking reason.

You planted your hands on your hips, staring up at it angrily.

Your mother and father both just had to be short. What a cruel joke the universe has played on you, putting you in a house designed specifically around a tall freak and his freakishly tall family. You hadn’t seen his folks, but it was easy to assume, given the door frame heights. RNG could only get you so far if the right genes didn’t run in your family.

Gritting your teeth, you stepped closer to the fridge, placed one hand on the front side that didn’t have the ridiculous LED touchscreen panel on it, then jumped on your toes, trying to reach the object.

Your fingers could only ever barely graze the base of it, no matter how hard you tried. Shit. Alright, plan B.

You twirled around to face the now silent pair that were observing you with amused, wry smickers, clearly entertained by your struggle.

Oh.

Your plan B was to grab a chair from the dining table to use as a stool, but somehow that felt more humiliating than plan C.

“Help,” you requested with faux meekness. “Please.”

“Help with what?” Suguru drawled with a coy lilt. “Use your words, angel.”

You pressed your lips together to stave off the flood of lewd hormones that threatened to drown you under their heady waves. He really meant it when he said he was going to use that nickname, and you were struggling.

“Please, help me get the thing down from the fridge.”

“What thing?” Satoru goaded you. “Be more specific.”

Plan B was looking to be a lot more viable now. What was a bit of your pride worth, anyway?

Your nostrils flared and you forced your blood to cool. “The stand mixer. I…can’t reach it.”

“We can see that,” he confirmed as he approached you, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. “You are pretty short.”

Your tongue started moving before your brain could register, let alone approve of, just what you were mouthing under your breath. “Yeah, well, why don’t you put some inches in me…”

Your eyes widened and you slapped your hand over your mouth, watching in mortification as his surprise morphed into absolutely elated revelry.

“What was that, princess?” He took a step forward, you took one back, one more from him, one more from you, all the way until he had cowed you against the far counter, his hands trapping you in on either side. “Wanna say that again?”

“N-No! I said nothing!”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me,” he lolled his head to the side, peering down at you through those cetacean lenses.

Are his eyes gray? You questioned silently as you attempted and failed to process how you got yourself into this position, all of it coming so fast. They’re so light. His glasses make them look blue.

“Oh?” Suguru voiced as he came to stand beside you two, bending to have his face in your line of sight, further causing you to shrink. “What’d she say?”

Satoru chuckled darkly, making chills shoot up your back and heat pool deep in your belly and high on your cheeks. “Correct me if I’m wrong, princess, but I do believe she told me to ‘put some inches in her’.”

Your face felt like it was fluxing off. Sweat formed at your hairline, your arms shook as you gripped the counter behind you for dear life, you were dying.

“Is that so?” Geto spoke in a hush. “Didn’t know this one had such a mouth on her. I think I know how to put it to better use to keep her from talking back…”

That’s it. You died. You were dead, right? There was no other possible, reasonable, believable explanation for how you got yourself stuck in this situation, pinned in place by a set of large hands and the striking stares of two illogically beautiful men who were just eating you alive.

“I–” you stammered. Forget speaking, you were straining to so much as breathe normally.

“Got nothin’ more to say, mochi?” The platinum boy whispered into your ear, hot breath brushing against sensitive skin and making you jolt. “Done bein’ a brat?”

You gaped at them with round, unblinking eyes, flickering back and forth between the two as they played Judge, Jury, and Executioner on your innocence – or lack thereof. You gulped with some difficulty, stunned into silence when Satoru cupped your cheek with a big, warm palm.

He’s touching me, oh, gods, what’s he doing, why is he getting closer–?

He swiped his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, just under your eye, and pulled back only enough to show a smear of pink along the digit without moving an inch away from you. Batter – a spot must have gotten onto your face without you noticing.

While maintaining direct eye contact, he stuck his tongue out and salaciously pressed his finger onto it, sliding it down to spread the mixture onto the length of it, ensuring you witnessed every. Single. Micro. Movement. He closed his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he visibly swallowed, then his lips spread into an equally satyric smirk.

“I knew you’d taste sweet,” he purred and stepped back, leaving you disconcerted and dazed as he walked off like nothing happened, sitting back down at the island and picking up a conversation with Suguru.

You hadn’t even seen the other one move, let alone get the stand mixer down from the fridge and place it on the center of the marble countertop while they chatted about something you couldn’t hear past the shrill ringing in your ears and the deafening pumping of the stupid organ in your chest that refused to shut the hell up.

Time seemed nonexistent and all too pervasive as you took long seconds – or minutes? – to come back to yourself. Forgetting how to operate was a bizarre sensation, motor skills shot down as you went through a system reset.

You numbly gathered all the ingredients you needed, laying them out in a neat line that you, in full honesty, should not have been able to create with the way your hands vibrated. The boys seemed none the wiser to your plight, and you were thanking whatever remaining lucky stars you had that they weren’t pointing out what a fucking mess they turned you into in the span of less than a minute.

Buttercream.

Make the buttercream.

You’re fiiiiine, all good, mhm. Not like you had your entire spirit gashed right out your body by the primes of godliness across from you or anything, nope. You were a fully functioning, intelligent, strong, capable woman that wasn’t losing her absolute fucking shit.

You swear you heard laughter that distinctly resembled your mother’s, letting you know you were on your own with this one.

Traitor.

Willing your body to calm the hell down, you plugged in the mixer, messed around with it a bit, and got to making the filling for the macarons. You threw in the butter, watching it get tossed and beaten around until it succumbed to the paddle and became creamy and smooth.

Watching butter get pounded into submission was inherently satisfying to you, scratching some itch deep in the back of your skull.

You wondered what that said about you.

You glanced up at the boys and pinched your brows together. You shouldn’t think about potential kinks in front of them. For all you knew, they could read your mind. Best not to risk it, you could save that subject for later in solitude.

Or just stuff it in the ‘Problems to Deal With Later’ box you hid under your metaphorical bed with the rest of your dilemmas, never to be seen again. Whichever came first.

Vanilla extract…powdered sugar…sloooowly, now.

‘Slowly, now,’ he whispered in your ear and oh god oh fuck, you were fantasizing, nope, stop it, bad, fuck.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, flinching at the pain. Phew, it brought you out of your imagination. You shamed your pussy for being a mindless whore. She couldn’t just wait until you were alone, huh? Had to humiliate you in front of the most unbearably sexy men you’ve ever seen?

Why am I like this.

“All good?”

You jumped with a startled squeak and saw Suguru inspecting you with a curious tilt and a knowing glint.

Crap, could he actually read your mind?

“Uh– yep! All good!” You affirmed a smidge too quickly and cleared your throat to drive away the squeaky chipmunk in your gullet.

Who needed lucky stars, anyway?

Satoru jutted his chin towards the counter behind you, where you left the tray. “Why didn’t you put it in the oven?”

Oh, sacred distractions, how you loved them.

“The batter needs to sit for a bit,” you told him. “Needs to form a layer around the outside called a skin. A little bit like a crust.”

“Cookies with a crust?”

“Not cookies,” you and Suguru corrected a second time, then you proceeded. “It’s to prevent the shell from cracking.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t guessed what it is she’s making yet,” Suguru commented, resting his temple against his fist. “You’re, like, the pastry expert here.”

You both watched as the gears visibly turned in Satoru’s head. He alternated between inspecting you, the mixer filled with now finished filling, and the untouched tray. He squinted, and then a lightbulb went over his head.

“Macarons!” He exclaimed, shooting upright with his Colgate teeth on display. “You’re making macarons!”

You cheered and clapped for him. “Hey, he got it! Good job!”

The boy lifted his chin and puffed out his chest like a proud peacock. “That explains why it’s taking so long.”

You deflated with a groan and rolled your eyes. “I find it hard to believe you’ll die just because you have to wait a couple hours.”

“Couple hours!?” He nearly shrieked.

“Is he always like this, Geto-san?”

Suguru was exceptionally entertained, you could practically feel it in his gaze and oh, shit, I know that look. “Only when he has a cute girl baking for him.”

Goddamnit.

Sly, accursed fox.

You really should stop talking, you just kept getting yourself into shit like this, where you had Olympian gods flirting with you and you couldn’t tell if they were being genuine or patronizing. Either way, it wasn’t good for your poor little core, nor your other core. Y’know, the messy one between your thighs that liked to cause you a lot of trouble. You weren’t sure where it got the audacity from.

Seditious bitch.

Okay, so, dodging them wasn’t working. What about playing into their games?

“Hmm, you know, I only agreed to do this because you asked,” you tapped your chin, speaking in a false trill.

Both tunneled in on you.

Ah, this was bad. Worse than willful ignorance.

“Which one of us, mochi?” Satoru queried. He acted so kind, so curious, but you could hear the underlying warning in his tone. Be careful how you answer.

“Can’t it be both?”

Air rumbled low in Suguru’s throat, danger flashed in Satoru’s eyes behind those filtered glasses, and you knew you were boned. And not the good kind of boned.

Mama, I’m doomed.

“Careful there” Suguru hissed, steepling his fingers and hiding his mouth behind them, as if fighting to maintain control of himself. “You’re playing with fire.”

You never were the biggest fan of things that were too hot. Blistering summers without a wind to balm your sere skin, campfires that only ever blew sticky smoke in your direction, tea too piping to sip at when you were parched.

But these boys, who had flames crackling and sparking in the bottomless pits of their pupils? You’d happily let them reduce you to ash.

“I like the heat,” you whispered and stuck your tongue out at them, then pulled off a switch in personality you, frankly, were not aware you were capable of. You went right back to being polite and well-mannered as you disconnected the paddle attachment for the standmixer, scraped off any buttercream stuck to it with a Maryse spatula back into the bowl, and stuck the bowl into the fridge to chill.

You heard Satoru curse as close to silently as he could, Suguru’s teeth audibly clenched, and you knew they were both trying to dare you to do something like that again by burning you with their glares. You paid them no mind – on the outside, at least.

Your insides, on the other hand, were a tangled disaster of nerves.

One part of you was questioning where you got the gall, the courage, the bravura, another was having a breakdown from your momentary valor evaporating, leaving you questioning what in the finest shite you were thinking. Oh, and, yes, how could you forget the part of you that was busy waterboarding your panties with far too much slick for it to be normal?

For fuck’s sake, all they did was say a few coy words, and it got you this heady? How far you’ve fallen. Tragic.

Fighting against needing to shift your shorts into a more comfortable position (which would be one hell of an ask since there wasn’t a spot untouched by your dew), you instead very feebly tapped a circle of batter on the tray with the tip of your finger, testing the shell strength. Thankfully, it seemed they were good to go, as none of the batter stuck to your pointer.

Satoru celebrated when he spotted you moving the tray to the clearly incredibly expensive (preheated) oven in his house. You slid it onto the rack, shut the door, and began fiddling with the settings until–

“Ah,” you clapped your fingers against the heel of your opposite hand, congratulating yourself for figuring out the timer. “15 minutes!”

“Finally!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Don’t get too excited yet, space cowboy,” you shut him down. “They’ll need to cool after that, and I’ll have to put in the filling next. Then they’ll be ready.”

He wailed and flattened his upper body across the island. “Whyyyyy?”

“It’ll feel like less time if we do something to distract you,” Suguru patted his upper back.

“I don’t wannaaaa,” he bleated like a wounded creature, attempting to garner sympathy points, as if that’d make the macarons bake faster. His head shot up, fingers pushing up his glasses that started to slip down. He reminded you of a grumpy rabbit, stomping his little (big) foot when his human angered him. “These macarons better be worth it.”

You pulled out one of the bar stools and wiggled onto it, your feet dangling high over the ground. “How long did you think it takes to make macarons?”

“I dunno, like, half an hour?”

“Aren’t you the pastry expert here?” You mused.

Satoru crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his nose pompously. “I’m a connoisseur, not a baker.”

“Maybe you should learn,” you proposed. “You’re good at cooking, right? You can probably pick up baking quickly, then you’ll have a greater understanding and appreciation for baked goods.”

Geto’s nose scrunched up. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Eh?” You batted your eyelashes. “Why?”

“If Ijichi is bad at baking, Satoru is catastrophic.”

The catastrophic baker tugged at the hairs on the back of his head as he avoided eye contact. “I set the kitchen on fire once, is that so bad?”

“How the fuck did you set the kitchen on fire with an oven?” You blanched.

“Oh, no, not the oven,” the noiret clarified. “He tried to fry the croissants. Insisted it’d make them ready to eat sooner.”

You paled like a ghost. “So– so, he, wait– wait, waitwaitwait, he tried to make croissants, the notoriously difficult to make viennoiserie, and thought frying them would be a good idea?”

“What’s a ‘viennoiserie’?” Satoru asked innocently.

“‘Nother word for pastry,” Suguru said, then addressed your question. “Yep, just about.”

You thwarted the desire to place your head in your hands and tug at the roots of your hair. “What the fuck.”

Satoru appeared torn between looking sheepish and looking peeved, not enjoying the criticism. “It was one mistake. I mean, really, I don’t get why you can’t let it go already.”

“He basically raided my pantry every day while his kitchen was getting doctored. He found my hidden stash of chocolate on day two and devoured enough to make himself sick, and then some,” his poor best friend said with a grimace. “It was hidden for a reason. But it did reveal how poorly my chocolate was concealed, so I upped the security on it. Thanks for that.”

“You don’t even eat sweets,” an allegation was thrown at him. “How can you hoard them? Selfish.”

“I hoard them because of you,” he faulted. “I like having them occasionally, and I’m saving you from cavities and tooth rot.”

Gojo squinched. “I brush my teeth very well, thank you kindly.”

“Remember when you got that one really bad cavity as a kid?”

“Oh, so, we’re just airing out dirty laundry, eh?” Satoru slammed his hands down on the marble. “Weren’t you the one that ate so much spicy ramen in grade school that you threw up and tore your esophagus?”

Suguru flinched and pressed his palm against the lower half of his face, blood draining from the top down. “Why’d you remind me.”

“Wait, what?” Your brows pushed up. “What happened?”

He sighed the sigh of an old man who was about to recount his whole life story for the millionth time. “I like spicy food–”

“Loves spicy food,” the other adjusted.

“–and was addicted to it as a kid. I had one too many spicy ramens when I was, I think, twelve or so? My stomach didn’t like that, and fought back with a vengeance. I had to go to the hospital and get a feeding tube put in while I waited for my esophagus to heal.”

You winced and sucked your teeth. “Yikes, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” He relaxed, shifting his hand to support his chin. “I recovered and learned a valuable lesson.”

“Not that it stops him from devouring spicy food any chance he gets,” the towhead teased.

“I eat it in moderation.”

“At least two meals a day,” he shot back.

Suguru glared at him. “You’re no better. You practically live off of sugar, ninety percent of the stuff in your fridge is some kind of confectionary. Don’t get me started on the cupboards.”

You perked up, connecting a couple dots. “Oh, so that’s why I had to dig through, like, three mini cakes to find the eggs.” You slouched onto the counter. “What do you need three cakes for, anyway? Birthday coming up?”

Gojo merely shrugged. “I like cake. Ririka-san said she had extras she didn’t want to toss out and asked if I wanted them. You expect me to say no to that? It’s free cake.”

“You’re not exactly hurting for money, Satoru,” Geto sighed and rested his forehead on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. “But I suppose it did reduce waste, so, I guess it’s fine.”

“See?” He preened. “I’m a good person. I’m a great person.”

“Good people don’t say they’re good,” his friend deadpanned.

“This one does,” he hmphed, facing you and imploring your support, “don’t you think so?”

You pinched your chin and counted spots on the ceiling while humming, pondering. “You did take me in…but you’re kind of a whippersnapper…”

“Whippersnapper?” He gaped incredulously.

You pretended to not hear him. “Hmm…yeah, I’d say you’re a decent person.”

“Hah!” Satoru smacked the smooth surface underhand, beaming at your mutual companion. “See? What’d I tell ya!”

“Give it a few days,” Suguru warned you, his cheeks squeezing his eyes shut as they got pushed up by the corners of his mouth. Gods, that face was too cute.

You jolted when the oven timer went off and hurriedly rushed to check on the macarons. This step was vital – a minute too long or too short could spell demise for the treats. You cracked the door open a smidge, peeking through the gap to inspect them.

No cracks, crisp edges, cooked but not browned, perfect.

You turned off the oven and opened it fully, pulling on the silicone heat gloves to protect your skin, after which you eased the tray out and set it on top of the cooling rack nearby like you were handling pure gold.

Once they were balanced and safe, you threw off the gloves and belled, rhapsodic.

“Yippee! Now, we wait for them to cool, I add the filling, and they’ll be ready to eat!”

Your poor benefactor behaved the way a child would: pouting and bordering on a tantrum. “Come onnnn already.”

“He’s always like this, you said?” You turned to his best friend, who sent a sympathetic expression your way.

“Yes, and you’ll be living with him for the time being. I wish you the most sincere good luck I can muster.”

“Woooow, just throwing me to the wolves, huh? Er, wolf, singular,” you placed your hands on your hips.

Something flashed behind his pupils, his lips curling as he rested his chin on the back of his overlapped hands, and you felt a chill shoot up your spine.

Oh. Oh, dear.

His voice took on a husky croon, solidifying your place in hell. “Who said I’m not a wolf, too?”

Satoru blew air through his lips. “Oooh, edgy, how scary.”

“Shut it, Moon Moon,” Suguru snarled at him, all edge lost.

You involuntarily cackled at the lackluster insult. How fitting.

They certainly had the physiques of wolves. On the contrary, their personalities reminded you of cats. Or, rather, Satoru was a cat, and Suguru was a fox. His narrow, sly eyes had all the hallmarks of a kitsune in disguise, swishing tails hidden from sight, visible only to those enlightened. A stalker, one to hide in the bushes, crepuscular, using the depths of twilight to mask his measured movements.

Then there was Satoru.

A Ragdoll, made entirely of absurd amounts of fluff, sass, confidence, and a healthy dose of vainglory. An oversized animal that thought he was still a lap kitten, deserving of all your attention and energy. Trying to push him off your legs that were quickly losing blood supply was nothing short of criminal and a villainous sin.

Where the black fox was stealth and meticulous perspicacity, the Ragdoll was the type to walk into a room it knows you aren’t in and yell at the top of its lungs to summon you.

He’d steal your chair, just so you’re forced to interact with him, even if it meant shooing him out of the seat (assuming he’d be willing to give it up, which was often a resounding no). Your food? No, you’re mistaken, that’s his food, he’s just being charitable and altruistic by allowing you to eat it. You should have been thanking him with your forehead on the floor.

God-complex ass. Lovable ass – phrasing.

“Heyyyyy,” the lovable ass gave you puppy-dog eyes. “What flavor did you make the macarons?”

“Didn’t you get to taste the batter that was on my cheek?” You jammed away any lingering feelings bringing up that little incident might have tried to rear.

“It wasn’t enough,” he squalled. “C’mon, just tell me!”

You shook your head. “You’ll just have to wait. I gotta leave something a surprise, don’t I?” You doubted it’d be hard to guess, since you hadn’t gone out to buy any new flavor extracts.

“No!” Satoru shouted at the same time as Suguru said (much more calmly), “yes.”

The two boys scowled at one another, devil and angel respectively, tugging you in two directions.

There was a vague memory that flashed behind your eyes, though you weren’t sure if it truly was one. An inception, a memory of a memory of a dream forgotten erstwhile. A snapshot of two boys arguing that bore a remarkable resemblance to the ones before you. A ball tightly gripped, a threat heavy, a silence haunting.

It was gone as apace as it came, ceding only a ghost of a memento to a past you did not live.

Boys, you carped internally. At this point, it was definitely possible Satoru would combust if he didn’t get to stuff his mouth with your baked goods. Lucky for him, they were finally ready to be assembled, a task that went by surprisingly speedily.

Probably because they had shut up and let you focus, rather than distracting you. Two rows of sandwich halves flipped over, generous dollops of frosting applied after you packed it into a baggie, the other halves placed on top, and–

“Voila!” You sang as you carried the plate of neatly piled rounds of pink to the island. “Bon appétit, mes messieurs. J'espère que vous l'appréciez.”

“Oooh, French,” Gojo swooned as he studied the plate. “Tryin’ to seduce us, pretty girl?”

You picked up on his unexpected patience, having expected him to dive for the snacks once presented. “So, now you’re taking your time?” You crossed your arms.

He shushed you – “did you just shush me!?” – as he canted his head this way and that, observing the coralish-red pastries from every angle. “This is a vital part of the process. I’m checking the quality–”

“Satoru, I will beat your ass.”

“–and appearance. Presentation is important, ya know?”

The raven on the next seat over smacked him upside the head. “Would it kill you to have some semblance of courtesy and respect? She baked for you, try to be polite for once.”

Satoru growled as he rubbed the spot he was hit. “It’s called honesty. Some view it as the ultimate form of kindness. I heard it from a wise man once.”

Suguru’s brow twitched, irked by his audacity. “You can’t just quote your own words and call yourself wise.”

“I can, will, and did,” he proclaimed as he picked up one of the sandwiches and popped it into his mouth. Didn’t even bother to nibble or take a diligent bite, nope, right down the hatch it went.

You swear your adrenaline spiked at his reaction.

Satoru moaned like a college girl getting her cunt licked for the first time, good lord. The sound genuinely caught you completely off guard, impressed by how high-pitched his voice could go. You knew you were good at making them, but you weren’t sure they were that toothsome.

“I take back everything I said,” he confessed around the confection, still moaning. “The wait was so much more than worth it.”

“There’s no need to exaggerate to show your appreciation, either, Satoru. It comes off as insincere,” Suguru sniffled as he plucked up a sugary sandwich and examined it, holding it between his fingers. It looked comically small in his large grasp. “Though, I’m sure that…”

You could visualize his words dying on his tongue as he took a nibble and stiffened in place, bewilderment dawning on him. Each character tumbled away, lost on the same path his train of thought vanished on.

Shit.

That response was bad. Right? It had to be bad, nothing joyous came from–

“Wow…”

“Right?” Satoru exclaimed loudly, clapping the man on the back. “Right!? And you thought I was exaggerating.”

“I stand corrected,” Suguru maundered. He stared down at his half-eaten food as if it held all the answers in the world.

Then proceeded to shove it in his mouth and snatch up a second one.

You were baffled, flattered, and skeptical. “You guys don’t have to pretend they’re good if you don’t like them.”

They paused mid-chew to pin you in place with their intense, dumbfounded veneration, and you regretted ever opening your mouth.

Gojo was acting like a man trapped in the middle of Death Valley during summer who stumbled across the one oasis that happened to not be a delusional mirage created from dehydration, heat stroke, and the blistering weather. His eyes, wide and unblinking, refused to move off of your face, like you’d just told him that, no, we can’t stop at the oasis for a sip of water.

Geto wasn’t any better. You got the sense that he would’ve taken less offense if you’d called his mother a monkey. Which is a hell of a leap, since you were talking about baked goods.

“You’re kidding, right?” Your host garbled around his food.

“You don’t have to act humble,” the other man disapproved. “These are really good. We aren’t lying.”

Your lips scrunched to the side in apprehension. Were they trying to spare your feelings? You were…distracted several times during the process. Maybe you added salt instead of sugar? Was powdered salt even a thing?

You wouldn’t know unless you tried them for yourself. You filched one, analyzed it, and took a cautious, tiny, itty-bitty nibble. Followed by a second, much larger chomp and released a relieved purl when nothing but berry treacliness met your tongue.

You weren’t a worldstar chef by any means, but, ugh, you did make some pretty rockin’ macarons.

Satoru and Suguru obviously shared your sentiment – the first one even more so, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. Were they worth sounding like he just had the best orgasm of his life? Debatable, but you weren’t going to take that away from him.

Sure, you were enabling his sweet tooth to hell and back, but it meant you got to stay under a safe roof and beneath the cushy blankets of the guest room bed.

His enjoyment was a reward in its own right, too.

You’d make these every day if he wanted, if only to see the gleam of the pure, intoxicated, glucose-induced high in his dilated pupils.

Sugar was to him what catnip was to a kitty. Which was a dangerous realization for you. You’d have to tread the line of confections-related conversations carefully, lest you land yourself a job as his personal at-home baker.

Which actually wasn’t all that bad of an idea. You’d get to chill in a mansion with a hot spring in the backyard, cozily nestled higher up in the valley. It was decently cloistered, you could forget the existence of that stack of sticks under your name, and, hey, you might get away with not needing to pay rent! Win-win for everyone involved.

No, you were not willing to discuss the logistics behind that. Let a girl daydream, ladies deserve to fantasize about the wildest shit. Like becoming a sugar baby without needing to do anything nefarious. Was it so wrong to want to be spoiled?

A little voice, high-pitched and frightened, clued you in on a little clause in any contract you might consider signing: do not tie me down.

Alright, a little rephrasing was needed, then: was it so wrong to want to be spoiled, without the risk of being forced to remain in that position indefinitely?

Normally, you experienced a tightness in your chest when those kinds of words filtered into your consciousness, making a sense of cold spread from your solar plexus to your fingertips. It instantly changed your mood, made you go from cheery to withdrawn.

Your soul housed a violent anathema whose sole purpose was to torment you with the notion that nowhere is safe. You can’t stay here, you can’t stay there, you can’t stay anywhere.

It reminded you of that one immortal snail hypothetical. No matter where you went, it would always follow you.

If that was the case, then, where was that feeling now?

The bickering boys in front of you, the idyllic mountains that curtained the shallow canyon, this cozy home and the terrifying one you owned, why didn’t they spur that fight-or-flight instinct in you? What was different about Japan, about this location?

Why did breathing feel so easy?

…How long would this sovranty last?

You elbowed aside that conversation for another time. You were going to enjoy every moment of this while you could. If you were at peace, you weren’t going to sabotage that. It was unique, foreign. No area, no city, no home had ever brought you this kind of emptiness in your head, and you were desperate to hold onto that feeling, to milk it dry.

Starting with this little moment of domesticity, sharing food with your…friends?

Friends. Friends who took a great liking to what you made with your own two hands.

You should sneak some away from Satoru to give to Granny, Shoko, and Utahime before he ate them all.

Oh, speaking of.

“Hey, Satoru,” you called out.

“Hm?”

“Are you and Iori-san exes?”

He ‘hah’d and Suguru coughed on his snack, nearly suffocating. “Nah, she wishes.”

You raised a brow. “She seems like she hates your guts.”

“She’s just jealous of my devilishly good features.”

Not trusting his story, you turned to Suguru, who was patting his chest. Bless the boy, he was always there to shed light on the truth.

With regards to making fun of Satoru, anyway.

“He antagonizes her,” he told you after choking down the frosting he partially inhaled. “Spends every second bullying and annoying her anytime they’re near each other. She also swings the other way.”

“Ahh, gotcha,” you thanked him, stepped over to Satoru, and flicked his forehead. You chided him as he clutched the spot with his hands and fussed dramatically. “Be nice to Iori-san!”

“Wh–” He glared up at you. “She’s just as mean! Why aren’t you shaming her?”

You planted your hands on your hips. “She’s your senior. Respect your elders.”

He jutted out his lower lip. “That’s so not fair. Aren’t elders supposed to be setting good examples for their kouhai? It’s her fault I’m like this!”

You and Suguru displayed twin deadpan lours. Raised brows, narrowed eyes, the whole nine yards.

Satoru grimaced. “Ugh, ew, don’t do that, that’s creepy.”

“What’s creepy?” You asked, perplexed.

“You two are matching, it’s weird.”

Suguru gave you a sidelong glance that you returned, judging the validity of Satoru’s claim.

You cracked first.

The edges of your mouth twitched and you pressed them together into a thin line, jaw tensing as you tried to maintain your composure. The corner of his mouth pulled up a millimeter and you popped, giggling against your hand as you faced away.

He shook his head and chuckled, the noise balmy and charming.

An amicable silence fell between the three of you, filled only with muted chewing and the occasional appreciative drone.

It may well have been inadvisable on your part to fall under the spell of the alluring siren that called you to drown in the depths of comfortable mundanity, to breathe in liquid mercury in the form of idle acceptance, but how could you not?

When you had two magnetic entities drawing you in, giving you a taste of something so normal and natural when all you’d ever known before was diffidence, could you really be blamed for willingly closing your eyes and falling backwards off the cliff that once kept your footing stable? Could you be faulted for the rush of pure adrenaline that coursed through your veins when you gave in after resisting for so long and got to feel the wind bosoming your form the way a lover would?

You knew the ground was speeding up to break your fall, to eviscerate you, turn you into dust made of microscopic shards of glass, but you had plenty of time to pull the cord to your parachute. A little indulgence never hurt.

Right?

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

“Good girl,” a voice murmured in your ear, sultry and seductive, praising you while you suckled lewdly on a pair of fingers that tasted sweet and rich and distinctly of berries. It sent chills all over your body, from your scalp, down your spine, all the way to your curled toes. “So needy, aren’t you?”

You nodded vehemently, breath hitching as plush lips traced the curve of your ear. You sucked harder, laving your tongue around and between the prodding appendages.

A different voice, no less enchanting and blazing, came from the figure that draped himself across your back, one arm wrapped around your midsection, his skin igneous against yours. “Greedy brat,” he cooed, his tresses of ivory tickling your temple and cheek. He slowly pulled his soaked fingers from your mouth, spreading them to display your saliva webbing between. “Just one man isn’t enough for you, huh? Need two to cure your insatiability? To fuck you stupid?”

“I–” you gasped, words caught in the back of your throat and fizzling away when his warm hand grasped your breast, wet digits pinching your nipple between his index and middle fingers. “Oh– fuck.”

Black kite eyes occupied your blurry vision, a bewitching smile lifting the corners of his lips. He came off as virtuous, a god amongst men, but the pure and raw hunger in his eyes promised only your corruption.

A fallen angel, a deity that chose to paint his feathers midnight, to dive into the allure of sacrilege and build a throne for himself to sit upon. He chose to rule over this ungodly land of heathens and desires. To pull you down to the depths with him, that was his purpose.

His eyes vowed to drown you in them, to make you as lecherous for them as they were for you. To make you yearn and crave and need them. To have them pressed against your body, invading your veins, speaking sweet nothings into the bottomless, most primal part of you until you could think of nothing and no one but them.

His scorching fixation drew you to him, the elfin star reaching to be coaxed into his gravity, to be torn apart at the atoms by his bare hands.

The presence behind you was just as cosmic, tugging you the other way, trapped within a binary astral system that encircled you until all you knew, and would ever need to know, was their names. You were ensnared in their push and pull, hands held by each of theirs, pressed between leviathan celestial bodies, and there was nowhere else you’d rather to be.

You were Persephone to their Hades, both holding one half of the same pomegranate, tempting you to bite into each. A silent urge to sink your teeth into the rich fruit, let the acidic, covenant-binding juice of gods flow into your core, spread through your entire being until you belonged to them and they belonged to you.

You hungered for it, wished to see and feel the coquelicot essence of the berry spill from your lips, curve over your chin, drip onto your bare breasts like fresh blood.

You wished to have their tongues on your flesh, licking the circumfluous juice as if it was the ichor of life itself.

Deft hands slipped between your thighs, prying them apart. Cool air brushed against your flushed, dripping womanhood, drawing a sharp inhale from you. You squirmed when the hand on your breast shifted to tease and torment your other nipple, the arm still holding your midsection loosening enough to allow strumming fingers to walk down your stomach.

Past your navel, across your womb, over your mons, until–

You chirped when the pad of his middle finger slid through your heavily slicked folds and pressed directly onto your hypersensitive clit, lightly pushing back the hood to expose more of it, all on display for the raven before you.

The swan chuckled deeply against your back, sending the vibrations directly through your ribs and into your stuttering heart. “So sensitive,” he drawled, nipping at your pulse through the tender skin of your throat. “We barely even touched you and you’re already soaked, princess.”

Firm palms massaged your thighs, ensuring they stayed open, forbidding you from covering yourself. You were theirs to watch, to toy with, to covet and fuck and ruin.

“Our poor, pretty angel. Desperate,” a wicked laugh escaped from lush lips that hovered just over your own, so close yet so far beyond reach.

“P-Please,” you shivered and whined when the finger on your burning, twitching button circled it lazily. “Fu-uck.”

“Use your words, sweetheart,” one of them instructed you – you no longer knew where they began and you ended. “Tell us what you want, and we might reward you.”

You took in a shaky, uneven breath, attempting to steady your voice. Hell, to find it at all. “Y-You. Need you. Please, gods– ah!”

“Which one, love?”

“Both! Both– both of you,” you choked out, bucking your hips against the hand cupping your heat. It wasn’t enough, you needed more, you needed them. All of them, every inch, every fraction of their beings melding with yours.

“Really, now?” A hot breath fluttered over your ear. “Such a spoiled little lover. Are you sure you can handle both of us?”

“Yes– oh, god – yes, please, ple-ase!”

You could feel their voices more than you could hear. One’s chest was flush to your spine, your nails digging into his forearms. The other breathed your air and gifted you with his own, a promise that you were only able to fill your lungs with oxygen because he allowed it.

This was hell. It had to be. They were so close, so fucking close, but they weren’t giving you what you wanted. You asked so nicely, begged them, you were impatient, aching for them to the point it hurt.

“If you say so,” he – who? – huffed, amused. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Their warmth and scents mixed with your own, blistering against your damp skin, scalding you from the inside out, and how ready you were to plunge into the waves of magma below. You were doomed the very moment you said yes, from the second your eyes met theirs. You were destined to fall from the heavens into their cocooning embrace, and you willingly leapt from the clouds, chasing after them where they awaited you with open arms.

The set of fingers on your clit left to graze your entrance in ringlets that were far too languid for your liking; another grasped your chin between them, tilting your head up to peer into vortices of lust, venery, and depravity, threatening to suck you in and never let you leave.

What they didn’t say in words, they commanded with their searing idées fixe; they molded you into the perfect doll for them, the captivating nymph that curled her fingers towards herself, luring them to join her in the goddess’ blessed pond.

He leaned in, his soft pants fanning over your lips, right there, a millimeter more, almost–

You startled awake with a gasp, shooting upright onto your palms as you struggled to inhale and exhale properly. A thin sheen of sweat covered your entire body, making your exposed skin shimmer under the moonlight pouring in from your window.

Your heart raced in your chest, and you took long seconds to grasp your bearings and figure out exactly what occurred. Your heavy lids batted, trying to ease the grit from them. Everything remained fuzzy, recollection failing you…

As you began to calm down, you shifted your legs and abruptly stopped, cringing. The answer came like a slap to your tit.

You weren’t just wet, you were submerged.

Someone could squeeze water out of a rag and it'd still be less wet than you. You were utterly sopping, soaked right through your panties, a sticky mess of slick coating your pussy and the insides of your thighs.

Great.

This forsaken song and dance again.

Your cunt throbbed, clenching and mourning the loss of your high. Your nipples were painfully stiff, your clit screamed for attention, and all you could do was fall back on the bed and spread out your arms in defeat.

A wet dream. You had a fucking wet dream. And not just any wet dream, no, of course not. Nothing in life was ever simple. Not for you, never for you.

You groaned and pressed your hands against your face, trying to wrest away the image of Suguru and Satoru drawing you thin between them, turning you into a babbling, pleading mess, pining for the attention of your gods. The heels of your palms dug into your eyes until spots appeared, but all that did was make the images more clear.

Hell. Now what?

Feeling particularly uncomfortable, you chose to start by shimmying your panties off and tossing them into your hamper without getting up, exhaling heavily as you glowered at nothing in particular and zoned out.

Sure, you could try to go back to sleep, pretend it was possible and that you’d return to happy, not-lewd dreamland, act like your disgustingly blasphemous subconscious didn’t create the hottest dream you’ve ever had, but you knew that wasn’t going to work.

You grabbed your phone and squinted at the screen when you checked the time. 4:17 AM. Taking a bath at this hour would probably wake someone in the house. The better option was to grab a hand towel and use the sink to wipe yourself off, then lay awake and scroll mindlessly through your phone until you inevitably passed back out.

But…you felt so empty. And so fucking horny, it genuinely hurt. You didn’t know it was even possible to get this aroused, and you were paying the cost for it.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, nipping at the dry skin. Your fingers twitched at your side, fighting a war, debating.

…Once would be okay, right? Just once, to fix yourself up and get rid of any lingering ideas you had about the two boys. Yeah, that was okay. Probably. It’s not like they were going to know anyway, and you could go back to sleep after you took care of your…needs, then wake up as if none of this ever happened.

Alright. Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. That’s the plan.

You swallowed thickly, noticing how viciously parched you were, but that could wait until you were done.

Your fingers tapped apprehensively against your stomach, yenning yet still uncertain. They trailed lower and lower, following the same path from your belly button to the apex of your thighs Satoru had taken in your delusion. A quickie. You’d be fast, and then forget this entirely.

You sucked in a hiss through your clenched teeth when your icy fingers brushed against your tender, swollen clit that was weeping for attention. Jesus, when was the last time you were this sore? This irriguous? Had you ever been?

You couldn’t tell if your fingers being cold made it worse or better. You weren’t sure why they were so frigid when the rest of you was combusting. All you could remember was a large, warm hand and addicting digits toying with you. This simply wasn’t sufficient in comparison – quite literally opposite in every way – but it was all you had to work with, so it would need to do.

You swore as you began rubbing the ticklish bundle in quick circles, your free hand swiftly shoving itself under your shirt to grasp your breast. You pinched, tugged, and twisted your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, lamenting the lack of satisfaction. It wasn’t fucking enough. Your digits felt too stiff, too glacial, for what you really wanted – what you urgently, critically, dolorously required.

You rubbed faster, pressed that sorry little nub down harder, dug your nails into your nipple, Christ, you were going to cry.

Why, why, why? You were right fucking there, on the cusp, more than ready to tumble off the cliff and let the swift fall break you into a million pieces.

Please, please, please! Please, fuck, just let me cum!

What were you missing? You had no trouble with this in the past, your hand was your best friend, now it was betraying you. Was your cunt too slippery? Was the frost of your touch driving your orgasm away? What was–

Your stilled as a sinful, dreadful thought crossed your mind.

This…all of this was caused by them. Not directly, but by proxy. It was because you were dreaming of them that you landed in this messy, painful spot. Your body forced you out of your own dream, effectively cutting off your lifeline of pleasure.

So, what if you…

You shook your head, winced, reconsidered, then repeated that process about a dozen more times. If you vowed that all this would remain here, in this moment, then there wasn’t really any harm in it, no?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and slowly picked up the pace again, squirming under your own ministrations. You let yourself draw pictures behind your lids, visualizing the pair of boys, pretending it was their hands on you instead of your own. You picked up where your dream left off, the tick before Suguru’s lips were on yours.

His hands massaging your thighs, teeth nipping at the tip of your tongue, kurobeni locks tickling your forehead and cheeks – it was shockingly realistic in sensation.

Satoru was playing your body like a harp, drawing and pulling on the threads of your being, strumming them until he was the reason you were writhing and panting and moaning in subdued notes on your bed that took more effort to contain than you’d ever care to admit.

Your high came mind-numbingly soon. Where you had been trying to wrench it from yourself with immense difficulty a minute ago, now you were teetering over the edge. You only had to do a smidgen more to reach your freefall.

It came naturally to you.

Whined, breathy, pitchy, louder than you had any permission to be, you uttered the two names that sent you careening from elysium’s clouds.

“Mmph– S-Sat-toru, Sugu–”

You were fairly certain you saw the eternal gardens of Eden somewhere between that nanosecond and the next.

You broke like an over tightened violin bow, the hand twinging your tit shooting up through the collar of your shirt to slam against your mouth barely in time to muffle the piercing cry that tried to fly out from your bitten lips. Your muscles tensed, trembling violently. Your hips bucked against your hand, your back curved further than you thought possible, and your pussy squeezed around nothing so tightly that you believed if anything had been inside you, your pelvic floor would have cut off its circulation.

You rode out your ascent and dive for as long as you could, dragging it out with unsteady, arrhythmic, back-and-forth massaging on your twitching, overstimulated button until you lost all steam and flopped back onto the mattress, hands separating from your body like glue.

You panted heavily, staring up at the ceiling blankly, sprawled out as you tried to catch your breath. Your head was empty, limbs still shivering with aftershocks of the strongest orgasm you’ve had in a while.

You brought your arm over your face, watching your fingers glisten with your slick as you wiggled them around. The wetness sticking to your cunt and thighs was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, too slippery without purpose for being so. The sheer amount of honey you produced was a disturbance on its own, but now you had to deal with the mess you made between your legs, on top of your post-nut clarity.

You needed God.

“What is wrong with me…” You mumbled as you rolled over to climb off the bed, feeling particularly disgusted with yourself. How the hell were you supposed to face Satoru and Suguru now that you had rubbed yourself off to the thought of not one, but both of them?

Shit, all of this because of that godsforsaken dream.

You shuddered, heat flashing through your body at the memory, and you quickly smothered the kindling. You weren’t hankering for a second orgasm at this time.

You wiggled off the edge and eased yourself onto rickety legs, using the mattress for support while you gained back your strength. You turned cautiously to check the sheets, and nearly collapsed in relief when you found no evidence of the heinous crime you just committed atop it.

God bless, you wouldn’t have to deal with trying to sneak the sheets into the laundry without getting caught, or come up with a passable lie to explain that the oddly damp and sticky patch wasn’t the remnants of your orgasm, nuh-uh, nope, not at all.

You weren’t a very good liar when put on the spot.

Little victories.

You crept around, tugging the hem of your shirt down over your thighs as you located things to freshen up with, thankful that the article of clothing was long and baggy enough to cover your shame. The moon, round and silver, lit up your room a smidge too clearly for your liking. You really didn’t want to see yourself in any way for the time being.

The hall, unlike your room, was sorely lacking in light.

With a small towel and a change of panties in hand, you carefully eased open your door, and glanced both ways like you were a child sneaking off to steal candy from the kitchen. It was crepuscular as fuck, but you had to ensure there wasn’t anyone who could see in the dark. Unreasonable line of thought, but who cares.

Coast clear.

You booked it towards the bathroom on the tips of your toes, rushing as soundlessly as you could to dive behind the door to safety. You didn’t let yourself breathe until you closed and locked the barrier with minimal noise. Mission successful.

Your eyes squeezed shut at the suddenness of the bright light flooding the bathroom when you flicked the light switch, your fingers scurrying to hit the dimmer and un-blind yourself. Bleh. Pain.

After your eyes adjusted to the light, you took one glance at yourself in the mirror, in all your mussed-up-hair and flushed-cheek glory, and instantly swiveled your head away. If your face wasn’t burning before, it certainly was now.

Your reflection would just have to remain a mystery until you could stand to look yourself in the eyes again. Which could take a long while.

“You depraved bitch,” you muttered to yourself scornfully as you turned on the sink, waited until the water was hot, and dunked the towel in it. “Goddamn slut. One was bad enough, but two?”

You worked quickly to wipe the tacky smears from your skin at the crest of your thighs, fussing and reprimanding yourself all the way through.

Unfortunately, as much as you wanted it, your shower would have to wait until morning. You feared boiling the shame off your flesh at this hour would be too conspicuous. You grimaced as the fibers of the cloth rubbed a smidge too harshly against your tender sensory nerves, and you took extra care to not aggravate your horniness again.

The band of your panties snapped against your hips, grounding you further, and you decided you’d been punished enough (for now).

Back in your room, you flopped onto the bed face down, abnormally fatigued. The forbidden rendezvous in the eclipse of the waking world and following nutty nut (heh) wiped you out from head to toe. Not bothering to pull the blanket back over your yet-to-cool-down figure, you nuzzled into your pillow, and conked the hell out.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

You had mixed feelings on how rested you felt when you woke up.

On one hand, it was delightful to open your eyes and feel energized after a yawn and a ferocious cat stretch, but the way you got there made it feel like an undeserved good night’s sleep.

You mulled over it as you zoned out in front of the pot on the stove while you waited for the buckwheat you tossed in to finish cooking.

Technically speaking, you did use the boys to get your rocks off, but could that really qualify for the ‘morally incorrect’ category when it was not soundly your fault? It’s not like you sat down and had a heart-to-heart discussion with your brain and pussy about giving into your perversion within the safety of your insanity.

Okay, insanity was a stretch, and definitely an over exaggeration, but it was your best excuse. Some cog had to have been knocked loose in your thick skull for you to succumb to your cravings the way you did.

Or, you know, you argued with yourself, maybe it’s because you live with a stupidly hot guy and he has a stupidly hot best friend? Is it really so hard to imagine you’d get horny over a couple of model-worthy men?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You ran your hand through your hair as you switched off the heat on the stove, deeming the seed ready, and retrieved a bowl from a nearby cupboard.

You weren’t one to fall so low. If you masturbated to anyone, which was already rare as gold, it was some rando on a porn site. You didn’t know them, they didn’t know you – hell, they didn’t know you existed for starters. Free content without being perceived, win-win for everyone.

What curse infected your system last night to make you do the things you did?

Gods, it was a really good orgasm, though.

It sat on the forefront of your mind the whole morning as you went through your routine. As you showered, got dressed, washed your face, brushed your teeth, and now, as you made what was basically brunch given the hour. You were having a tug-of-war with yourself, which was cool and all, but why the hell were Satoru and Suguru the ones on your shoulders debating your moral compass?

Debating was generous. It was more so Suguru reassuring you, telling you that it was alright, just a miscue in your judgement, everyone had a moment like that at least once or twice in their life. Satoru, meanwhile, took great delight in howling like an incubus and teasing you relentlessly about your misfortune.

Neither were actively discouraging you from being a degenerate, but you pined for death regardless.

Unintelligible inveighs spilled from your lips, aimed at nobody in particular as you scooped the buckwheat into your bowl, poured milk in with it, and sprinkled sugar overtop. You were mildly gratified to see Gojo had the seed, as your childhood comfort meal would aid in overcoming your newfound psychological complications.

“What's that?” Gojo's voice scared the balls off you as he spoke directly into your ear, bowing over your back. You physically felt them pop off and roll away like wayward marbles, never to be seen again.

Metaphorically. And–

Oh, god, Gojo.

How the hell does a giraffe manage to move around like a mouse?

You can do this. This is fine. You totally didn’t have a sex dream about him and his best friend, not at all, how could anyone dare to think so? You only had to act normal. Act good, this was normal, you were normal. It wasn't weird. It's only weird if you make it w–

“Buckwheat cereal,” your mouth answered for you. You suppressed the urge to sag in relief when nothing atrocious came out of it. “It's good for you.”

“...Explain.”

You angled your head to face him, fighting down the gasp and blush that wanted to spark to life at his proximity. Oh, he was, like, right there. “It's cereal…but with buckwheat.”

A frown marred his pretty face. “Is it sweet?”

“To everyone's taste. But for how I make mine, yes.”

“Lemme try.”

Your body moved on its own without any instruction – or permission – from your nervous system. You scooped up a spoonful of the cereal and brought it to his mouth as he stayed positioned behind you.

Which was a horrible fucking mistake.

His hands grasped your hips to hold you steady as he actually said ‘nom’ and closed his luscious, puffy, pink lips around the utensil.

Oh, my god.

If you thought the dream was bad.

He pulled away from it, though didn't retract his hands as he contemplated your choice in food, chewing slowly. He gulped too freaking loud, and beamed childishly. “More.”

You scoffed and lightly bumped your hips back into his, pulling a muffled grunt from him (oops). “Get your own. There's plenty on the stove.”

You weren’t sure if it was reprieve or disappointment that filled you when he released you and stepped away, inspecting the pot on the stove. “How do you make it?”

“Scoop some into a bowl, add milk and sugar. Boom, buckwheat cereal.”

“Is it really that simple?”

You snorted. “Yes, Satoru, it is. The only ‘hard’ part is cooking the ‘wheat itself, which is kinda like making rice.”

“Huh,” the boy vocalized as he followed your instructions. “Won’t the milk make it cold, though? Or is it supposed to be?”

“Again, it’s to everyone’s taste. You can heat up the milk if you want it to be warm. Buckwheat is surprisingly versatile,” you briefed. “High in fiber, antioxidants, anti-inflammatory, and – now that I think about it, it could be especially good for you, since it can help manage blood sugar levels.”

“Nerd,” he quipped.

You scoffed as you spooned some into your mouth and oh shit, oh fuck, this was the same spoon he used, was this an indirect kiss? Was this weird? He didn’t seem to care as he grabbed his own utensil and propped himself up against the counter with his lower back.

This is fine, you said as you banged your head repeatedly on the walls of your mental prison.

Pretend, pretend, pretend. Confidence was basically just really good lying. “Excuse me for being weirdly curious and just collecting random fun facts.”

He quirked a brow, eating up his own bowl. “Oh, that’s it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Satoru plainly shrugged. “Thought you might have been someone obsessed with nutrition facts or something.”

“I mean, I try to be a little careful about what I eat, but I’m not gonna sit and make calculations on every little thing I shove down my throat.”

A cruel sort of evilness curled the corners of his lips. “Is that so?”

You were going to shoot him one of these days for making you nearly inhale a kernel. Figuratively, duh, but nevertheless. Or perhaps literally. Whichever came first.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying?” You probed.

His grin grew, as if this was something he was proud of. “Plenty, but none as cute as you.”

What a novel and unique method for making your cereal hot, using you as a human fucking conductor. No wonder the messy thing between your legs controlled your subconscious. It was Satoru’s fault all along.

You felt a mite less guilty about using his face as spank bank material.

“I’ll add ‘incorrigible flirt’ to the record, then,” you chuntered.

“And ‘good looks’,” he inputted.

You mimed writing. “E-go-tis-tic and con-cei-ted…”

“Oi!” He jutted out his lower lip. “O’, cruel temptress, you wound this one. You’re lucky I like you.”

A sizable chunk of your food attempted to get stuck in your throat, forced down only by sheer will alone. You froze, waiting for the world to collapse, for the walls to cave in, for the adrenaline to drown you in anxiety, for the air-raid sirens to start blaring. You waited, and waited, and waited.

Nothing came from his confession. It was a light, playful thing, sort of meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Your fight-or-flight had been triggered by less before, but…

Two seconds was all you allowed yourself to hesitate for, lest you look the fool. Two seconds of atypical…normalcy.

“You’ve known me for, what, three days?” You pointed out.

Satoru scraped up the last bit of his food and placed the bowl down to rest his weight on his elbows that he set on the marble surface behind him. “I’ve got good instincts. Gut feeling says you’re interesting, and I like your vibes. That’s all I need,” he disclosed.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. He was…easy, for lack of a better word. Talking to him came effortlessly, with lively chatter and content silence in the gaps between conversations.

Trust your gut instincts.

“Feeling’s mutual,” you admitted, softer.

That earned you a brilliant smile, stretched from ear to ear, and it made something docile and tender flutter in your heart. Not the rapid palpitations of attraction or flusteredness, no. Rather, it resembled a tea light, something mellow and snug.

Seeing him happy makes you happy.

You didn’t get long to dwell on it. “Hey, you still wanna use the onsen?”

His invitation wiped out all your brooding thoughts like a whipping gale, replacing it all with sheer zeal and glee. The moment you’d been waiting for! Now you didn’t have to awkwardly ask!

“Uh, yes? Hello? Is that even a question?” You gawked.

The pale-haired man simpered as he took your bowl from you – oh, when did that get empty? – and nodded towards your room. “Got a swimsuit?”

Thank the ever blooming stars above, you did.

“Yes!” It was taking everything in you to not start bouncing around like an overjoyed rabbit. The urge to zoomies was strong with this one.

“Great! There’s a shower outside and on the right, just past the partition when you go out the back,” he instructed. “Tradition calls for bathing in the nude, but I’ll spare you from that this time.”

Fuck ye– this time?

You were already moving along, shouting a high pitched ‘thank you!’ over your shoulder as you darted towards your room to retrieve a towel and your bathing suit, forfeiting your chance to voice that concern aloud. He was likely teasing you anyhow, and there was only so much flirting you could take before you’d combust.

You had no intention of testing your mental fortitude. Not until you got to turn into a boneless puddle of jelly beans in the onsen.

Was there some way to see a scoreboard of your times for ripping off your clothes? Because you were fairly certain this time would contend for first place with the time you tried the shower here for the first time. And, on top of that, you know that cute swimsuit you got eons ago, thinking you’d have a ‘hot girl summer’, only to never once wear it? You finally had a reason to pull it on and pose in front of the mirror in your room!

A tad late (or early?) for a hot girl summer, but damn, you looked good.

Satoru was nowhere to be seen when you skedaddled out of your as-of-current sanctuary, which permitted you to jog across the house to the back door on your tiptoes like a villain in a cartoon. You even did the evil little giggle, too.

The trees surrounding the backyard provided abundant protection from any potential gales, but the shade they shed made goosebumps rise all over your body from the chill, urging you to speed over to where the outdoor shower was to race your ass into the hot spring.

The shower itself was gorgeous. Dark, slat-wood tiles acted as protective walls, giving you decent privacy for a quick rinse. And the water?

Heaven.

Your only experience with outdoor showers before had been those super shitty beach ones, the type that half-sprayed, half-poured freezing cold water on you that did fuck all to get any sand or dirt off you. Plus, they were out in the middle of the beach anyway, so you’d end up getting sand on your soles afterwards anyway.

You were not expecting the water to be heated, or the ground to be free of debris (how far your standards have fallen), or anything beyond just a pole that water came out of.

Rich people. You gotta suck up to them more often, dignity be damned.

But you had a delightful bonus! You didn’t have to suck up to Satoru for these benefits! It remained to be seen what you would have to do after your free trial expired, but three days in, and you were more than ready to suck his dick to keep sitting pretty and living the life.

Okay, too far, but could you be blamed?

No. Most certainly not. No, you were not open for debate on this. You knew anyone else would think the same.

You hosed yourself down as thoroughly as your impatient self could handle, lest you perish before you got the chance to get a taste of rapture. Apparently, though, Satoru was faster.

Shock-white hair, dripping at the tips that had already begun collecting steam, alerted you to his presence as you tossed your towel onto a nearby bench. You had turned into a shivering mess in the seconds it took you to walk over and you were greatly looking forward to the deliciously painful sting that came from transitioning into hot water while cold.

He tilted his head back with that giraffe neck of his, the curious ‘oh’ of his mouth maturing into a smirk big enough to make dimples appear in his cheeks.

“There you are!” He called out. “You took forever, thought you slipped and died or something. Get in already, the temp is purrrrfect.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” you retorted as you sat down on the edge of the basin and dipped your feet in, hissed like a demonic cat wrangled from hell, then slipped in completely. Shudders wracked up your entire body, scalding you from head to toe – ah, but then, bliss. “Fuuuckkk…”

“Feels good, right?” He chortled and you nodded, your eyes slipping shut.

“God, it feels so good,” you slurred out contentedly as you sank down lower into the wonderfully hot piscina. You set the underside of the back of your skull on the ledge behind you and let yourself turn into a happy little jellyfish. “You’re so lucky.”

Satoru scoffed. You peeked one eye open. “I don’t actually get the chance to use it all that much nowadays.”

Your lips pursed in a pout. “Why not? You rich kids don’t have to work, right?”

“I am the heir to the Gojo clan,” he reinformed you. “My dad’s still kickin’, so he does all the major shit, thankfully, but I basically have to be on-call. Boring ass meetings, talking to even more boring ass people about,” he rotated his hand in a general all of this motion, “boring ass shit.”

You sat up properly, suddenly hyper aware of your position and whose company you were in. “Is it difficult?”

He tipped his head side to side, working out a crick. “Eh, nothing I can’t handle. I’ve known I’ll eventually inherit the family business since I was a kid, so I’ve been exposed to it all pretty much since the day I could walk.”

Guilt was knocking on the door of your sternum. Lifelong misconceptions of trust fund babies led you to have a mild prejudice against them. Social media didn’t help, with all sorts of platforms hosting blogs for the filthy rich who posted all hours of the day. Were all rich kids destined for the same, or was it only a few, like Satoru?

How could a petty commoner like you ever hope to understand?

You could start by learning.

“What’s the family business, if you don’t mind me asking?” You scooted closer.

“Politics,” he said as he propped his arms up on the stone behind him. “Like I said, boring shit.”

Ugh, politics. No wonder he was so disinterested, you would be, too. “How long has your clan been around?”

He blew air out past his lips, counting in his head. “Some one-thousand years, I think?”

“Yeesh,” you fluttered your lashes. “So you come from old old money, huh?”

“Ee-yup, pretty much,” he crooned, doing a complete flip in attitude from ennui to playing the part of charmer. “Which means I have plenty to spoil you with, pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes and cupped water in your hands to splash him. He bayed in offense and splashed you right back, soaking your hair and face aggressively. He cackled like a mad man as you wiped the mineral water off your scowling features. That didn’t count, his hands were way bigger than yours.

He dipped a finger under one lens of his shades, rubbing away whatever liquid had gotten caught beneath, giving you the perfect segue to probe about them.

“Why are you wearing those glasses all the time? Can you even see through them with all this steam?” You inquired skeptically.

Satoru tapped his left cheek. “Sensitive eyes.”

“Or,” you proposed an alternative, because that was too easy, “you’re hiding something.”

His lips spread in a compelling grin. “Why don’t you come and find out?”

Don’t mind if I do.

You reached for his sunglasses, wiggling your fingers like you were about to cast some spell on him with a witchy smile. You expected him to maneuver away, angle his head so you couldn't actually get them, but he surprised you when he let you take them without any struggle.

You slid them off the bridge of his nose, fingertips brushing porcelain skin, and revealed the true hue of his eyes to you for the first time.

Your breath left your chest in a swift exhale, the vacuum of space stealing the air from your lungs.

You recalled what you thought of the sky the first time you had seen it from Satoru’s backyard, through a seamlessly cut circle sitting above the treeline. You remembered how you thought it was the brightest blue you had ever seen.

You took it all back.

This was the brightest blue you’d ever seen.

Prismatic eyes peered back at you, shimmering and shifting between shades of an early winter morning and oceanic depths, galvanic and otherworldly. You didn’t know how it was possible to have irises so vibrant and enthralling, how they caught the light and shattered it infinitesimally, scattering and dancing about like glittering snow. You swore that if you sought hard enough, you could see the crystalline shards glisten like rainbows whenever rays of luminescence caught them at the right angle.

At their darkest, they were cresting, bioluminescent waves crashing over the shore of a chilly evening on a beach, or a bouquet of blue orchids, or the celestial eons above when they began to shift from midnight to dawn, before the sun had awoken.

At their lightest, they were diamonds, multifaceted and nearly iridescent. The shimmering of a fairy’s wings, the first sip of spring, the water of the everblue hot spring behind his home as it subsumed you – calming, serene, warm. You yearned to take a deep breath, dive under the water’s cusp, and remain there forever.

A seraphim’s wings beat, thousands of eyes blessing with eldritch purity, each centered on you.

From the cascading snowdrift of his nitrogen-dipped lashes flocked with millions of ice crystals, to the gems he called irises, down to the voids of his pupils as they dilated, consuming pools of excruciating delphinium into trenchant rings.

They threatened to sink and drown you in their zeros, to poison you with a drop added to your wine, and you'd swallow all of it down in large swigs and thank him for it. You’d do anything to feel his hyperborean venom in your bloodstream.

You wondered if they collected sunlight during the day and glowed in the pitch of night, reflecting like vitreous ponds filled with veiled secrets known only to gods and the man in front of you, the one that ruled above them all.

He could make the boughs of celestia bend and lower for him, as if kneeling to respect their king. He could buckle any will with just a brief coup d'œil, make the strongest, most powerful people grovel at his feet, make the choirs of the universe sing for him and him alone, anything he desired.

But, he chose to lay his sights on you with playful mirth and gleaming excitement glissading within them.

“Careful, princess,” he preened, migrating towards you, a hunter stalking his prey. “Keep looking at me like that and I might get shy.”

Speckles of sweat slipped off the high curves of his cheekbones, dotting his forehead and temples, plastering his lily-white hair to his fair skin, and you decided on the spot that you were a slave to Gojo Satoru.

Ruin me.

Your lips tingled, parted as you beheld him in latria, begging to feel his upon yours. He was there, nearing, close, closer, closer–

“Ah, there you two are,” you jumped away from Satoru like he was a scorching bonfire you nearly leapt head first into, Suguru’s voice snapping you out of your muzzy revere.

You could have sworn you heard the boy you so nearly touched swear something foul under his breath, but you were too busy dying inside to pay attention. You whipped around, your fingers clasping the rocky shelf of the spring hard enough to break through it, gripping to it for dear life. Focusing on Geto as he approached grounded you and gave you a modicum of the stability you needed to recover because holy shit, you were about to kiss his best friend, what the hell is wrong with you.

“I heard back from Uncle Han,” Suguru updated you as he took a knee on the mildly damp stone in front of where you were peeking up from the hot spring. “He’s an acquaintance in the construction business. He said he can come over sometime tomorrow morning to inspect your house, just to see the condition it’s in. He won’t have any free hands soon, but if the thing is in a decent enough state, we could get started on it ourselves.”

“‘We’?” You tilted your head askance.

He raised a brow. “Yes, we. You, Satoru, me. What, did you think we were going to let you do it alone?”

“It’s just…” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know how much to pay you.”

“Pay us?”

“Yeah,” you flicked your sight between him and Satoru. “Plus, I’d feel bad making you work for me.”

His forehead creased as if you were saying something completely absurd. “Who said that we’re charging you, or that you’re making us work for you?”

Now it was your turn to be taken aback. “Uh, because it’s labor? Aren’t you guys busy?”

Suguru arched forward a fraction, maintaining intense eye contact that refused to abate, seriousness etched into the tempered chocolate of his optics. They demanded your full attention, an unspoken command to meet his gaze and never look away unless he gave you permission.

You feared he never would – or, perhaps, wished.

“Satoru spends most of his days like a spoon-fed child who only has to occasionally go out of town to assist his dad, or fill out some paperwork when Gojo-san is too overwhelmed. I help out my folks with their farm in the mornings and sometimes an hour or two after noon. We have more free time than we know what to do with.”

Satoru sidled up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into his side. Everywhere his skin touched yours burned, hotter than the prickling, fervid loch submerging you below your ribcage. His beaming face entered your field of view, brilliant azures drowning out the rest of the world until only butterfly pea and black tea remained.

“It’ll be fun!” He touted, fingers squeezing your hip affectionately. “Tall, dark, and stupid over here’s right, we’ve been needing something to do.”

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stupid’s expression dropped into a vexed glare. “Eat a dick and die, Satoru.”

“You first.”

“I’ll drown you in there.”

“Not if I strangle you.”

“Good luck reaching me, shitstick.”

As entertaining as their bickering was, you needed to say something before the very important conversation got completely swept away. You reached up to touch the dark-haired man’s hand as it hung lazily over his raised thigh, but stopped short when you saw liquid drip off your wrist. You didn’t want to get him wet, so you used that hand to draw his attention with a downward wave of your digits.

“Thank you, Geto,” the outer corners of your eyes crinkled.

His bristled temper died down, ire replaced with an irrefutable fondness in the gaze he directed at you. His hand flipped over and clasped yours, preventing you from withdrawing, unbothered by the dampness clinging to your heated palm.

He looked at you like you were the only soul worthy of seeing the curve of his lips draw upwards to match yours, the only one whose knuckles he’d lift to graze a featherlight kiss to, the only one who’d be able to coax an unseen side from him without a fight, needing only to merely whisper his name.

Sealed with a velvety promise when it spilled from his tongue into the space reserved for you, them, and no other.

“Suguru.”

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