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yanderenightmare · 2 months ago

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Yandere Seven Deadly Sins

♡ AN: from the Promptlist

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, gangbang, harsh language, sexual exploitation, bondage, zero holes safe, and more, read at your own risk

♡ FEM reader

Pride is an artist, and you, poor dear, are lucky enough to be his muse.

You’d caught his eye one day simply by coincidence while working your part-time job as a barista.

And though it had been a rather unorthodox request—between balancing school and work and constantly finding yourself both strapped for cash and strapped for time—you’d decided to quit and take him up on his offer—as what he was offering was about twice what you could make at the cafe anyway.

He’s not that much older than you, but he’s old money. And while you're stuck in community college, he goes to an elite art school—which he doesn’t even show up to, 'cause why would he? They can't afford to kick him out anyway, given his father’s donations make up half of their yearly budget.

And so he's free to self-study as much as he wants.

Yeah... he’s a little too used to getting what he wants—exactly how he wants it—without delay. So when you struggle to come to your sessions on time due to having to take the bus to the other side of town, he decides to solve it by buying you a car. And when he doesn’t feel like that’s sufficient enough, he buys you an apartment right above his own studio. And when you try to reject, he only has three concise words for you.

“Don’t be stupid.”

The way he says it leaves very little up for debate. In fact, it leaves you mute each and every time.

It was nice in the beginning—you didn’t protest to anything other than his overpriced gifts. You were flattered and blushy and giddy and more than happy to sit pretty for him for hours at a time while he sketched and sculpted and painted and whatnot. It was essentially nothing in comparison to the luxuries he gave you in return.

But you think, at some point along the way, he must have forgotten that he only owns the artworks he makes of you—not you yourself.

“N-naked?” you stutter, looking at him wide-eyed where he stands in his usual apron—flecked with the proof of your countless sessions. Honestly, it was getting to be a little strange posing for him in a room stuffed with a myriad of sketches, paintings, and statues of yourself. Hadn’t he had enough?

“I can’t capture you correctly when you wear all these rags,” he says—clinically, though with a pinch of impatience just shy of vexation—eyeing you from head to toe, almost with a look of disgust while beholding your clothes, despite being the one who’d bought them. “They obscure everything. So take them off.”

You knew he’d probably had about a hundred models undress for him, and stand here—old, young, men, women—you knew it probably didn’t mean much to him. He probably regarded it the same way he does everything—without even batting an eye. However…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that…” You fiddle with your fingers, standing there, still dressed despite him standing ready at his easel, foot-tapping while waiting for you, already with a stick of charcoal between his fingers.

“Why are you making a fuss? You think I haven’t seen a naked body before?” he jokes, but without humor—no, rather strictness as if you’re wasting very precious time. “This is standard practice—don’t make it anything than what it is.”

There he goes again with those very final words that make you feel all in all kind of silly.

You bite your lip and mull it over before ever-so-begrudgingly uttering a weak little, “Okay…”

You suppose he was right. This is a job, and it’s just nudity—just another shape in the eyes of an artist—it doesn’t mean anything—is what you tell yourself while you undress. Still, you can’t help but feel flush—heart pounding in your chest as you fold your clothes all neatly for some other nervous reason.

“Resume the pose,” he says—almost like a drill sergeant. And you jump into place, timidly rushing over to the chaise where you lie down like before.

This does feel like it would be a better painting, you admit. More reminiscent of Renaissance art and such. Not that you know much about it, but thinking back to field trips through the museum, you seem to remember having seen plenty of portraits of naked ladies lying on pretty but uncomfortable sofas just like this.

He seems very invested, at least. A deep furl between his brows, nearly scowling at you while he works—though you’ve come to learn that it’s just his concentration face.

After a while, he sets his charcoal down and wipes his blackened hands on his apron.

You sit up, asking, “Are you done?” All but ready to leap from your seat to your clothes and finally cover yourself again.

“No, keep still,” he all but reprimands—voice intense as he stalks across the floor over to you with determination written plainly across his face.

You draw back in place as he rests his knee on the chaise and leans forward. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come and correct your pose, but you couldn’t help but flinch this time around, feeling just a bit too exposed.

His hands are warm and overworked, both dry and a bit clammy all at the same time. You didn’t mind much when you wore clothes, but it felt a bit too intimate now as he touched your bare skin. But you bear with it despite that.

Eyes closed, you repeat that same line from before—it doesn’t mean anything, this is standard practice, it doesn’t mean anything.

It works in calming your breath for a moment, but then he grabs your tit.

You gasp, jolting back while stuttering, “Wha–what are you doing?”

And yet, he keeps his steal gaze just as fixed and unfazed as before, sighing at you as if you were overreacting, before stating rather simply, “Getting a better understanding of your body.” He then reaches toward you again, showing no concern for how you shrink away. “It’s easier to replicate when I know it by hand.”

Again, you let his voice silence you, and again, you closed your eyes and let his hands wander—around your chest, up your neck, down your belly, and then—

“Wait! That can’t be necessary—” you blurt out, this time with your arms and hands shooting forth to distance him.

“Oh, trust me—it is.” Again, he pays you no mind, simply bearing over you with his entitled hands roaming whatever place he so wishes and chooses. Only clicking his tongue at you when you squirm, “Don’t fuss.”

You don’t exactly push him away, though you don’t exactly make his pursuit easier for him—lying there beneath his touches, wiggling and whimpering, though not really protesting either as he feels your slit.

Your fingers curl into his arms, gripping his messy shirt streaked with paint and coal—as his fingers run through your lips, teasing your entrance and your clit. He twists his hand around and presses his thumb down on the pearl after it perks for attention, then enters you with his pointer finger—drawing out wetness before promptly feeding you another.

You bite your lip as they curl and spread within you, testing you out while rubbing firm circles into your clit.

Gingerly, your hips return it, starting to move in tune with his ministrations. Thighs trembling, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you start to pant—small moans leaving your lips with every breath, feeling it build within you—a small flame at first, nursed until it fills and all but fights for room within you before finally bursting.

“That’s it—that’s the expression,” he purrs—voice much softer than usual—cupping your face with his other hand, holding you steady while taking in those dopey eyes sparkling with pleasure and those parted lips that never dare speak up—eyeing you like he's the proud owner of a prized possession. “Perfect.”

He hums, sounding pleased, then gets off you shortly after, sauntering back to his easel.

“You can get dressed now. I got what I needed,” he states, picking the stick of charcoal up again, ripping the last sketch off for a fresh sheet before starting anew as if nothing had happened.

And you, still lying there, are left just as mute as usual.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Touya, Hawks, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Baro ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

Wrath is your ex-boyfriend who refuses to get it through his thick skull that the two of you are over.

Any time you talk to another guy, he beats him up—to a fucking pulp, no less.

He’s always been that way, and still, it wasn’t always like this…

You started dating each other when you were young. He was rough around the edges, and you liked that about him—tattoos from his neck down to his ankles—the type your parents would have a heart attack if you ever brought home.

He was going to be a professional fighter, he’d say—mixed martial arts. He had all the rage and zero technique, but still, he’d land some of the best on their ass all through pure strength of will alone.

He was near impossible to train, though—always too wired to be able to take any pointers. And that’s why he needed you. You were his reliever. He’d fuck you like it was his last day on earth, and suddenly he’d be able to do anything. Like an enhancement drug, everything would start moving in slow motion, and he could somehow see all the moves of his opponent before they ever made them.

You admit you liked hearing him preach about it. It made you feel important—made you feel as if half the win, or at least some of it, was yours. And when he started raking in the dough as the champion, winning multiple titles across several tournaments, you were more than happy to be his lucky charm and cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then, you had this awful and sudden feeling of being just that—a tool for his success and nothing else. Sure, he’d give you presents—pretty things he thought suited you well—but you hadn’t gone on a date since his career started, nor had you had a proper sit-down dinner together either. He’d stick to his diet regime, be out training at the gym all day, and you’d be home, going about your own business.

And while you were doing that, you’d think—about the nature of your relationship. And what you found is that all it really entails in the end is him demanding a fuck whenever he needed it—before a tournament, before training, before an interview. And then, after coming to that glum conclusion, you can’t help but feel like nothing more than another one of those items he keeps loose in his gym bag.

And those thoughts only got validated when you tried denying him sex for the first time…

You were just curious, really—curious to see what he’d do. If he’d beg, if he’d plead, if he’d say boo, don’t be that way while down on his hands and knees for you.

But of course... he can’t get anything else but angry.

“If you’re not gonna give me the one thing you're useful for, then what the fuck do I keep you around for?” is what he’d said—no, barked. “You think you’re special? If you’re not gonna put out, I might as well go out and find me someone who will.”

He’d fucked off to some other room with a huff and left you standing there.

And you don’t know, amidst the shell shock and the ache of your heart coming undone... suddenly, you had no idea why you were there or with him or what you were supposed to do—and when you found no answer to any of those questions, it made no sense for you to stay. And so you went to your shared bedroom—or his bedroom, as a matter of fact, which you’d stayed in for the last months—quickly grabbed your things—your things specifically, and not all the other stuff he’d thrown at you—and stuffed it all haphazardly in your bag, then gone out to the entryway to put your shoes on.

That’s when he’d reared his head again with the gall of asking, “Where the fuck are you going?”

He hadn’t had that same raised tone as before. No, this time it was lowered—frayed—with a touch of urgency and unease as if balancing on the edge of a knife—as if he knew he'd done something wrong and was reaping the consequences and yet still hadn't the balls to simply apologize and correct it.

And so, you hadn’t answered him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he’d stated then, coming closer, ready to grab your arm with that hint of alarm in his voice increased. “Hey, I asked you fucking a question—”

That’s when you’d twisted around and slapped him. You’d put all your might into it as well, though you doubt it compared to much of what he’d felt in the ring.

And still, he’d looked at you as if he’d just lost all his titles.

He hadn’t said anything else after that—just stood there with his mouth agape as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you. In fact, you don't think he even dared do so much as take a breath.

You’d gone and crashed at a friend's and rethought your life. There was no way you could ever go back, after all—not after what he’d said. Treating you like a stay-at-home whore. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What an asshole—you'd tried convincing yourself as you cried yourself to sleep…

The days and weeks after were nothing if not fucked up and toxic, to say the least. You’d go out to have a fun time and try to forget about him, but he’d always show up out of the blue to ruin everything—being his usual douche self.

Though… you can’t exactly claim to be any better than him—not after finding yourself in bed with his number-one up-and-coming rival.

Of course, it ends up all over the news—big headlines plastered on every gossip platform pushing your private affairs for all to see—a real media circus if there ever was one.

You end up back in his apartment. To talk, he’d said—a pretense you had a hard time believing in. He’s never been one to talk much. Honestly, you don’t know why you even bothered coming over when he asked. There might even be a chance he’ll kill you. This is how most homicides start, after all.

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes. You look off to the side, waiting for him to speak because fuck knows you have nothing to say.

Meanwhile, he just stares at you—his big, hulking body leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands braided before his face. It’s the type of posture he’ll have when sitting in the corner of the ring—he’s got that same look in his eyes, too, deadset on you.

It makes you a little nervous, actually—maybe he really does plan on killing you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks suddenly.

You almost scoff—almost roll your eyes, but you end up simply returning his dead glare. “Is that really what you asked me here for?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He just keeps staring at you.

You huff out a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I just wondered what it would be like to be fucked like a woman for once and not someone’s toy.”

You don’t know why you decided to take it there when you both know why you’d done it. What other fucking reason would there be other than to get back at him? It’s a stupid question to begin with, and so you give it a stupid answer in return. And you won’t deny it feels fucking good—seeing him like this. Five o’clock shadow, eyebags, and uncut, disheveled hair.

He looks like a wreck, and rightfully so. Fuck knows what a mess you’d been before you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. Funny what the single simple thought of revenge can do for someone so lost.

He scrapes his thumb down his jawline, over his stubble—a deep sigh running through him as he leans back on the couch. Offering no other reaction as he says, “I can sit here and act threatened, but you and I both know he was shit compared to me.”

He throws his arms up against the headrest, chin tipped up. Thinking he can hide it, thinking you can’t see right through him—to how hard he’s fighting to upkeep the poker face.

He’s forgetting who his opponent is.

“I know you, babe—I know your body. And there's no fucking way some shitstain you just met–”

“His dick was bigger,” you interrupt—face blank because two can play that silly game, and you do it better.

He’s shut up for a moment—you can see a vein pulse, but it’s quickly stifled, and he smirks instead, snickering despite his grit teeth, “Sorry, that must'a hurt given how much you cry with me.”

This time, you don’t refrain from scoffing and rolling your eyes, “That's all you have to say? Thought you were a fighter.”

“You want me to get jealous? Is that it?” he accuses then, starting to crack, throwing your scoff back at you, “Tch—should've fucked somebody important then.”

This time, you skip the eye-roll and flat-out laugh instead, “I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll call up your dad-”

That did it—got him out of his seat and everything. “Shut your mouth.” Standing big and hunched, all muscles and fury.

And you react in kind. Glad that you’re finally getting somewhere. “Make me.”

"You're fucking–" He clenched his fist in the air, scrunching his face in frustration, withholding a growl before releasing a heavy sigh instead.

Dropping his arms, shoulders slumping—hanging his head the same way whilst mumbling under his breath, “Fuck this… fuck this entire thing.”

And just as quickly as he’d sprung to his feet, he flopped down on the couch again.

“I don't wanna play games…” He looks up at you—now with the look of a starved and beaten dog. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

He reaches out slowly—big hands cradling your thighs, pulling you towards him gently, and you let him—put off by that strange new look in his eyes.

“You can fuck half the world, and I'd still only want you.”

It’s an odd confession. Unexpected coming from him. You’d anticipated more of a fight, not whatever this is. Looking at you with glossy eyes on the verge of tears. Suddenly, you feel kind of mean, struck with this sense of guilt for having reduced him to such a state.

“Don't take the high road. It doesn't suit you,” you declare, though without much bite.

And he just sighs, “Fuck that, we’re even now.” Pulling you even closer still—into his lap—he makes you straddle him. Forehead to forehead without kissing you yet. “So, are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you really gonna make me beg?”

And though you would kind of like to see what he’d look like on his knees, the sight of him like this was good enough proof that he’d learned his lesson despite it not being an apology.

Besides, he'd been all too right when he’d said the other guy couldn’t fuck you like him.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Uvogin

Sloth is a street urchin.

You volunteer at the homeless shelter and can’t help but feel extra sorry for him. He’s only around your age—so young yet with no future to speak of.

This winter, given it’s going to be an especially harsh one, all volunteers have been asked if they have any spare room they can be so kind as to give to those less fortunate. And though you’re not that well off yourself, you still have an extra room you’ve only been using as storage.

So, unable to look the other way, you decide to clean it out, get a bed, and host him.

You took precautions first, naturally—just to be safe. But, from what you could tell, he’s neither a drug addict nor has any criminal record to speak of. No, he’s just another abandoned kid who'd society had failed.

This is the least you can do to correct its wrongs.

And, of course, he falls in love with you for it. Not only do you give him a place of rest—but you make him warm food, give him fresh clothes, do his laundry, draw his bath, watch movies with him every night, and always ask him if he has everything he needs. You even cut his long, shaggy hair for him and give him luxuries such as face-lotion.

You’re a saint, too good for a filthy sinner like him, but he’ll never let you know that... No, your pity feels too nice—taking such good care of him—he’s going to leach off of you and your honeycomb heart for the rest of his life if he can help it.

He doesn't look too bad after he cleans up, and after a few more weeks of eating well and getting enough rest—he stops lurching and starts standing up straight, looking lanky and lean with muscle—at which point you can’t deny he’s even a little hot. You know… in that scrappy sort of way.

You feel weird about it, of course—guilty even. He’s a homeless guy you’re housing—you’d be nothing if not downright evil if you took advantage of him. But after a few weeks of settling in, he starts feeling like more of a normal roommate and not a stranger. And with that familiarity, you both lose the distance and become more lax and loose around each other—wearing less, talking casually, not afraid to brush up against each other, and before you even know it, you find yourself folded in half beneath him on the living room couch.

You don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into—but his cock’s so big he’s pounding the sense right out of you with every thrust.

He’s not even going fast. No, rather slow, actually—taking his time as if savoring it. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure bubbling up inside of you where his strokes hit so heavy, resting deep within, so fulfilling that it all but replaces your better judgment with the sole need to squeeze him with all you've got.

“Mh, you’re pussy’s so nice and warm—I could stay inside you forever.”

You’re so wet it’s ridiculous—like never before—like you’re the one who’s been starved and neglected and not the other way around. Getting your breath all but knocked out of you, getting fucked so utterly full, he’s making you kick your feet and curl your toes in the air, bucking your hips back into him like you’re desperately begging for more.

He’s got your knees hooked over his arms, keeping you neatly pressed under him. “You’re so good to me—so, so sweet, you must be the sweetest girl in the whole entire world. My guardian angel.”

All you’re able to do is babble and moan in return—misty- and cross-eyed with your dewy face cradled in his hands.

You just hold onto his wrists while he speaks fondly against your lips, “You saved me when no one else even bothered looking. Let me return the favor—give this pretty pussy all the thanks it deserves.”

When he re-angles and hits you in a different spot, the switch in your lower belly is immediate—making your whole body seize up and shiver, breath shuddering in your throat, followed swiftly by a pulse migrating from your core all throughout your body, tasting oversweet on your tongue enough to make you drool.

He locks lips with yours, slurping your spit up sloppily and keeping himself fully sleaved as you peak—feeling your wet, gummy walls tighten and flutter, rippling along his length like a rush of kisses.

Then, right before it fully dies down, he picks up the pace again and rekindles it—because fuck knows he’s well-rested and over-due and the farthest thing from done with you just yet.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Togame

Gluttony is a five-star chef.

You start off as a waitress at his restaurant. And yet, he’s the one who developed an appetite—for you and your pleasing smile and that busy-bee swing you have in your hip as you hop around from table to table.

He licks his lips at the sight of you more than he does the food he makes. He even had the uniforms altered in your image—made the skirts shorter and shirts tighter.

He's utterly shameless, but who can blame him? You’re such a little bite-sized treat—he just has to taste you.

And taste you, he most certainly does.

For breakfast and for brunch and lunch and dinner and supper, as well as a midnight snack.

“Your pussy juice is my favorite,” he groans from between your legs.

Fat-muscled chef’s arms, tattooed with all types of silly patches, curled tightly around your thighs, keeping you close despite those times you try and push away when it gets to be a little too much—because fuck knows he doesn’t have the same reservations. Nose and tongue and chin deep in your slit, slurping you down while filling you up with his words, “I want to flavor every meal I make with you.”

You keep a hand over your face, kissing your knuckles, sometimes with a bite—whimpering pitifully, “Gross…”

Of course, you can’t help but cringe when he says things like that. He’s your boss, after all, not a porn actor. Still, you don’t say it with much conviction. It’s just that you get so embarrassed you don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles, still with his face buried. “Don’t be childish.” Words muffled as he doubles down on his efforts of sucking on your clit like a piece of candy.

“I’m not,” you whine. “You're just weird.”

He smacks off of you at that, a refreshing sigh leaving him rugged and raspy, a devilish look in his eyes as if he’s about to eat you for real. “I’m a world-renowned chef—are you implying I don’t know my flavors?”

Everything in your gut coils with anticipation, nearly rumbling with need, while he pulls your lower half up and even closer—face glossy with the way he’d gorged himself already—licking his teeth now as he refocuses on your clit alone.

Flattening his tongue on it while he speaks, sounding like some type of beast, “I’ve tasted everything the world has to offer. And I'm telling you, this pretty little thing between your legs is the best there is.”

You can’t stand looking up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you hide your face with both hands. Mumbling out a weak, “Pervert...”

Again, he snickers, shaking his head as if he’s ripping into flesh when he’s really just got his tongue out—straight motorboating your poor pussy.

When done, he drops you onto the bed again, grinning while replying to your insult, “Can’t argue with that,” before promptly kissing and licking up your belly—with fingers replacing his tongue, pumping you on his knuckles, getting you ready.

He groans when his mouth reaches your chest, lips wrapped around a nipple, “If only these titties had milk. I could feast on you from every position.”

You don’t know if you should giggle or grumble—he’s such a baby—and a spoiled one at that. But really, his fingering is making it difficult to do anything but stammer and try and keep it together, “We talked about this—I’m not taking hormones just to breastfeed you, you weirdo.”

He whines then, “Please—it’s my only wish in the entire world—I need it.”

You struggle to argue, feeling like you’re under siege—an onslaught set out to make you breathless. “Well—” you pant, gritting your teeth and bearing it. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“Oh, I’ll see about that.” He takes it as a challenge, this time really locking his lips around your nipple and suckling—releasing just briefly to say, “I bet if I suck on these babies enough, they’ll give me what I want.”

He keeps his fingers working diligently while at it—used to multitasking—curling and spreading them out within you, pumping you so fast, you barely have the time to beg him to “Stop that—” before you’re already shaking and cumming for what must be the seventh time already.

He laughs breathily, kissing your teat goodbye as he lifts himself up again. Pulling his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips and blithely sucks them off.

“You know I can’t stop, dear. I’m so hungry—I’m ravenous.”

You watch him from over the tips of your fingers. So hot and mortified you think you’re soon to pass out. Breathing heavily behind your hands, muttering, “You’re a glutton—that’s what you are.”

Again, he just cheerfully snickers, bowing down to your halfway-hidden face with a smile. “I hardly see how it’s my fault I can’t get enough of you.”

He spreads your legs again and finds his place between them.

“You’re the one who got me hooked—so you better take responsibility for it.”

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Todo ♡ HQ – Bokuto, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Baro, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Uvogin ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Lust is your boss. He's the owner of the strip club where you work, your pimp when money’s tight, as well as the porndirector of all your lovely little films.

Yeah, you might as well have a tramp stamp of his name on your ass, the way he practically owns you…

He's around ten years older and has basically taught you all about sex from when you were only a fledgling in the industry. You live at his studio above the club since he keeps all your money in a bank account under his name, calling you his little sugarbaby and telling you you’ll get an allowance and that you can get more if and when you ask him nicely and tell him what it’s for.

“Don’t be a brat, baby. You know how I hate it when you're a bad girl,” he says when you raise the topic of moving out, treating it as if you’re a child threatening to run away from home.

“I don’t belong to you. Give me what you owe me.”

Honestly, you have no idea where you got the courage.

But is it courage? Or is it just plain stupidity? Because, though you’re increasingly more terrified as you quickly watch him lose his temper, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. And so, if you knew this is what was going to happen—why the fuck would you put yourself through it?

Must be madness.

“I give you everything, don't I? Food, clothes, a home,” he chastises, bearing over you while you’re down on scuffed knees, holding your wrist in a bruising grip and your face just as fiercely—nearly tearing the skin off your cheeks with the bite of his nails.

“And still, you have the fucking nerve to act like a goddamn bitch.”

You hiccup on sobs, spluttering out a desperate “Please—I’m sorry–”

"You and your entire slut body belong to me, you understand that?"

"Yes-yes—please—I'm sorry! You're right! I belong to you! I'm sorry!"

That seems to calm him just a bit—at least enough to take the bite away from his voice, now cooing at you in an ugly mocking attempt at sweetness, “Yeah, you do every single little thing I ask. ‘Cause if you’re not gonna behave like a good girl, I have no other choice but to treat you like a bad one.”

He lets your audience be rowdier than usual that night, allowing them to slap and grab, then forces you to have an extra rough shoot afterward—with tighter bondage, more toys, bigger guys making use of you like a piece of meat, smacking and choking you as they find out how many cocks your holes can fit, every last one finishing on your face.

Then, when you’re all done and all used up for the day, he brings you upstairs—home, sweet home—where he treats you to some much-unwanted after-care...

You shiver and shake despite the hot water. Sitting in the bathtub, laying back with your spine against his chest, feeling thin like a sheet of paper, all crumbled up and torn—sniffling and sniveling as the after-shock of the day still ricochets through you like wind through a hollow husk.

“The shoot today was rough, huh?” he drawls, washing you with his own hands. Stroking your poor sore cunt despite how it makes you whimper. “Yeah... was it a little too rough for you, hm?”

You don’t do anything in return—but your body language says enough on its own, and he allows it to be your answer.

Sighing heavily, he wraps you up with both arms and squeezes you tighter, chin resting atop your head.

“You know… if you’d just be my good girl, I’d give you a good girl to-do list. Let you stay here all day, do some house chores while I’m gone, make love when I get home, hm? Doesn’t that sound better?”

He traces a welted bruise on the inside of your thigh, one you got from the shoot—roughly the shape of a hand, and a dozen more others layered on top of it. It makes you suck in a hiss.

“But if you’re gonna be a bad girl, then this is what you get.”

He settles into the grove of your neck, purring against your ear. “Are you gonna be my good girl from now on? Hm?”

You bite your lip, breath shuddering while nodding pitifully.

And still, he insists, “Say it so I can hear it.”

The water’s gone cold around you—just like everything else, as you say, “I’ll be a good girl.”

He seems pleased, at least. Nuzzling against your cheek with chin stubble and a smirk, asking, “Yeah? Whose?”

Your voice is small and pathetic, nearly a wince, “Yours.”

He groans then, “That’s right. My good girl.” Lifting his hand from the water, he takes hold of your chin, fingers pressing into those designated sore spots as he angles your face toward him and gives you a heartless kiss before growling against your lips, “And don’t you ever fucking dare forget it again.”

After he’s finished washing you up, he carries you out to bed. It's one you fear much more than the one down in the studio.

Because in this bed, just like every night in this hellhole… he starts teaching every last one of your holes who they belong to.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Reo, Shido, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

Envy is your enemy.

Or, well, no, he’s not your enemy, but you’re most certainly his enemy.

You’re just not aware of it because of what a ditzy and clueless airhead you are.

But fuck, he can’t stand you—you and your fake personality, acting all bubbly and sweet, cheering him on, always telling him to do his best—condescending little bitch acting like everyone’s friend—like he doesn’t see through you right to your rotten core. You don’t fool him—he knows you’re as bad as the rest of them, so just quit pretending like you’re better or something.

You’re under the false impression that the two of you are friends. You just think he has a strange sense of humor, but you laugh politely even when you don’t always get the joke.

Well, maybe it’s not so much politeness, but the fact that you have a big fat hopeless crush on him.

It infuriates him. He throws your niceties back in your face as insults, and you just laugh. How low do you think of him? Honestly? How tall is that high horse of yours that you have your head constantly in the clouds?

Poor you… you just think he’s so cool—always saying what he feels like, not a lame people-pleasing goodie-two-shoes such as yourself. You can’t help but follow him around like a lost puppy all day long. You’re always making sure you sit next to him during lectures—heart almost beating out of your chest, holding back from squealing when your prayers are answered, and the two of you are finally paired for a project together.

It really feels like the universe is on your side, and so you just can’t stop yourself from going the full mile—making chocolates and preparing him a hand-written love letter. You know he’ll think you’re a little silly, that he’ll make fun of you for it—but you can’t expect to get anywhere without putting your heart on the line, can you? For a chance at love, the risk must be worth it!

Yeah, you’re such a hopeless romantic—you feel it as he punches his fist through your ribs when he rips out your poor heart and stomps all over it.

“I fucking get it already! You’re little miss pretty and popular. Would you quit rubbing it in my face, or do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You,” he seethes through grit teeth. “Go pick another one of the hundreds dying to be your partner and leave me the fuck alone!”

You shrink where you stand, shocked doe-eyes rapidly welling up like a flood, lips wobbling as you choke on your words, “Oh… okay… I’m sorry… I just… I–”

“You-you-you what?” he barks at your stuttering. “Spit it out already! What the fuck do you want?”

“I just-I-I just always thought you were amazing. So…”

His face contorts, scrunches up in a grimace different from anger, though not without it, as he spits out, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

But his voice is a little diminished now, with confusion usurping the place of his hate, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts because… what did you actually just say?

“I just, I really like you–” you repeat, hanging your head, only barely able to mumble through the tears blocking your throat. “But I guess I’ve just annoyed you all this time—I’m sorry...”

Only now does he notice you’re trying to hand him something—a flat little box with a pink note attached.

“This is for you, but I understand if you don’t want it.” Unable to look up, you just stretch your arms out until it gently bumps into him.

Baffled, he accepts without thinking.

“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone from now on.” And then you run off, disappearing with a sob that all but shoots him through the chest.

And slowly bleeding out, he remains standing there, eyes glued to where you'd left—mouthing the word what…

What did you just say?

Like? Him?

Did he mishear you, or did you just confess?

No way—that can’t be it, right?

But what the fuck is this heart-shaped letter, then?

"What the fuck did I just do?"

You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out all night the next day—your usual bubbly personality reduced to a ghost in a shell, walking the hallways like a zombie, slowly and without purpose, eyes on the ground—letting everyone bump into you.

You don't even so much as bat an eye when someone runs straight over you, fully knocking all your books and folders onto the floor.

You just get on your knees and start recollecting them.

A newfound hate flares up within him at the sight. “Hey, you!" He stomps over. "Watch where the fuck you’re going next time, dipshit.”

You look up at the sound of his voice—flinching before you notice it’s not directed at you.

No, rather, he’s got a boy up against the lockers, lifted by his collar onto the tip of his toes. Face only a few inches from his, glaring at him harsher than he’d glared at you yesterday.

“Now apologize to the girl before I punch your ugly face in.”

You stare at the altercation with large eyes, only able to blink as the boy who’d bumped into you starts spluttering on the verge of tears, “I–I’m sorry–I didn’t see you! Sorry!”

You don’t answer. Shocked and speechless, you remain on the floor in confusion, asking yourself why’s he doing this? Didn’t he cuss you out yesterday, or was it all a bad dream like you'd hoped?

He throws the boy on his way, then gets on his knees down alongside you—proceeding to help you gather your things.

You only watch on in wordless bewilderment until he starts muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry I made you cry yesterday.” He stacks all your things in a neat pile next to you while continuing his apology. “And for being an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed to the floor where his hands busily roam around until there was nothing more to retrieve.

He then hesitantly looks up at you—eyes flittering—a little too ashamed to hold your gaze as he says, “Your chocolates were really good.”

That’s when your heart starts fluttering again—as if new life was just breathed in and revived it.

He can see it as well—how you light up like a rekindled candle.

“They were?” you gush, shuffling closer on your knees all excitedly—face brighter than the sun on cloudfree summer day.

It blinds him—nearly stunts him, only able to utter a meager, almost shy, “Yeah.”

He then slings his bag in front of him and pulls something out.

A lunchbox.

“I made you these..." he swallows thickly. "As an apology…”

He’s utterly red—from the tips of his ears to his neck and entire face, even his hands.

“For me?”

“Yeah..." He reaches it over stiffly. “They’re not as good as yours, though...”

You eagerly accept despite his nervousness, popping the lid off where the two of you sit—right there in the middle of the hallway floor, with other students walking around you like water passing two rocks in a stream.

His blush grows ever more intense as you pick one of his crudely made chocolates up, not even examining it before throwing one into your mouth.

It was his first time making anything that required a recipe. And they most certainly did not come out well, but he figured the embarrassment was part of his atonement.

He didn’t actually expect you to try them.

But there you are—lying through your teeth, saying, “I think they’re great!”

He can only scoff out a soft laugh. “Of course you would.”

Turns out, you really are just a nice person after all. You don’t have the heart to be mean at all, do you? Yeah, you don’t even have it in you to feel any of the ugly things he keeps inside. In fact, he bets you don’t even have the means of knowing such ugly things exist.

That must be what he’s envied about you all this time…

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shinso ♡ JJK – virgin Sukuna, Megumi ♡ HQ – Tsukishima ♡ BLLK – Rin, Sae ♡ DS – Genya

Greed is your clingy childhood friend.

He doesn’t want to share you with anyone and gets viscerally jealous each time you hang out with others. It’s as if he feels boils rising beneath his skin, simmering with a violent need to kill anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with—even if it’s just a passerby who accidentally brushes against you.

He can’t stand other people—how they think they can just come along and be your friend when he’s been your friend since you both were in diapers. What? Do they really expect him to share you with them? Just like that? No way. You’re his best friend. They should all go find themselves their own.

Actually, the term best friend doesn’t even really cut it… It’s a little too childish. You’ve both grown out of it. And besides, it never really fully encompassed what the two of you actually are to each other. You’re so much more than just friends, after all. Yeah, what you really are is soulmates. Yeah, that sounds more right. Soulmates.

And the bond between soulmates is like the bond between an addict and their favorite drug. You wouldn’t ask an addict to share his favorite drug, now would you? No. Not unless you’re prepared to either kill or be killed.

But he can’t say he blames them for wanting you, either. Of course, they’d want you—anyone would.

He pities them, actually. And you make it no better for the poor suckers, stringing them all along—acting as if there’s enough of you to go around. Well, there just isn’t. And even if there was, he shouldn't have to share you with anyone.

Yeah, the problem here is you. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that you’re his.

Well… seems like he’ll just have to teach you once and for all, now, doesn’t it?

“What’s… this?” you mumble groggily once you wake, sluggishly tugging your bound wrists—not yet aware of what they are. Your eyes blow wide once you do—voice turning sharply frantic, “What’s happening?”

“We’re having a play date like we used to.” He comes into view just as the panic sets in—and though his face has all the familiarity to be a sign of comfort, his words evoke no such feeling within you.

“Remember? How we used to play house?" he says. "Granted, we're a little older now… so I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

He stands before the bed you’re currently lying tied down on. But he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s something very wrong about all of him. Seeming way too at ease for the situation.

“Instead of making mud pies…” he continues. “I'm gonna fuck you and give you a creampie.”

Your heart lurches up into your throat at his words, and you choke. Your clothes from the day have been removed, leaving you naked. You spot them lying on the floor in a heap while you spastically look around for clues as to “What the fuck’s going on? This isn’t funny–”

“Shut up,” he says—his demeanor still as nonchalant as he climbs on top of you and pushes something past your lips, nudging it deep down in your throat.

Feeling it as it scrapes your tongue, you can tell it’s your lace panties, and you gag—shaking your head, trying to dislodge both it and his fingers, but he holds you steady.

“I have things to say. So, be a good friend and listen.”

You start crying then—brows cinched as you look up at him in terror, full-tremoring now while struggling under his weight and the all-too-intimate way he starts touching you.

“I'm glad you’re still a virgin…” he suddenly says, running his hands down your breasts, catching your nipples between his fingers.

You twist in disgust, halfway convinced you’re having some godawful fucked up dream—that this just can’t be happening—but somehow, at the same time, something deep in your gut that’s been lying there for a while ignored by your kind heart doesn't find it completely without warning, having felt how strange he'd been acting as of late—always looking at you a certain way and saying certain concerning things—certain concerning things he’s saying right now, “I’d kill all those little toy friends of yours if you were ever so stupid to let them have it.”

He glares at you—looking every bit angry, and yet you can’t describe it exactly. Something about that look in his eyes makes him seem like a complete stranger to you. Then he cracks a smile, and it makes it all the worse. Bowing down until his forehead presses clean against yours, noses rubbing against each other.

“But I think you knew. Didn’t you? Knew how it wouldn’t be right. Knew it was mine to take.”

He shuffles backward until he’s separating your thighs instead of straddling your waist. And you croak with an especially full-chested sob as his touches travel further down along with him—with savage goosebumps running rampant across your body once he rubs his thumb crassly over your slit.

“You see?” his breath shudders in his throat—thick with something mortifying that’s bound to ruin you forever. “It’s so happy to see me.”

You whine and scramble, trying to force your thighs shut—but he has the upper hand—keeping you spread with his body while two of his fingers slip through your lips and bully themselves inside.

He pumps them in and out with zero regard to how you recoil—only sneering at the way you worm in disgust, “At least your pussy understands where its loyalties lie.”

It’s not long before his ministrations draw wetness, and he pulls them out—inspecting them in the dim light he’s left on. Rubbing the digits together before putting them in his mouth.

You close your eyes with a whimper while listening to the sickening sounds of him sucking them clean.

He puts both hands around your neck next. He doesn't squeeze hard, but your breath stops nonetheless. Eyes stinging with both spent and still-welling tears.

“I’m upset with you,” he states, brushing his lips over your parted ones, still stuffed and silenced with your own underwear. “But I’ll forgive you if you apologize and swear to me that you meant it when you said we’d be friends forever.”

That look in his eyes—you still can’t explain it. Desperate, desolate, deranged, and enraged—something downright sick.

“But since you can’t talk right now, you’ll have to prove it some other way...”

One of the hands disappears, and you hear the following sounds of a zipper being undone, then the rustling of his pants being shoved down.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll know.”

The room tastes of blood and something rotten as he frees his cock and graces your clit.

“Actions speak louder than words anyway, after all, don’t they? So cum on my cock, and I’ll cum in your pussy, so we can seal our friendship again—just like the time we married each other on the playground.”

He enters you, and you think you might just die in the mix of horror and grief.

And yet you remain perfectly alive—even as he rips through you and splits both you and your heart apart.

“You can think of this as the honeymoon,” he whispers. “Always and forever, happily ever after, never apart.”

♡ BNHA – Deku ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tendou ♡ BLLK – Bachira ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

♡ HEAVENLY VIRTUES ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

Text

guess!? — geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru.

Satoru couldn’t help but blink, glancing down, then grinned. "Well, aren’t you a little minx." Suguru took a sip of his drink, amused. "That better not be a fake number, doll." You simply gave them a look, one that promised nothing and everything all at once. "Guess you'll just have to find out." The white haired model laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I like you." The dark haired singer could only smirk, something unreadable flickering behind his dark lilac eyes. “Intriguing, doll.”

GENRE: alternate universe - celebrity!au;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, sexual content, poly relationship, threesome, double penetration, explicit smut, consensual sex, sexual intercourse, making out, bodily fluids, nipple play, kissing(fm+mm), rough sex, p-i-v sex, anal sex, creampie, fingering, fingerfucking (female receiving, vaginal/anal), sexual overstimulation, asphyxiation, biting, scratching, pet names (sweetheart, doll, good girl, etc....), flirting, friendship, gender themes, falling in love, secret relationship, fluff, getting together, idiots in love, drama, happy ending, use of she/her pronouns, crack, humour, profanity, lgbtqia themes, depiction of sexual content, depiction of sexual intercourse, depiction of sexual positions, depiction of body parts, mention of sexual themes, depiction of alcohol, mention of body parts, mention of sexual acts, mention of alcohol, soloist! geto suguru, model! gojo satoru, actress! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: it took a while to write this and i swear, i will not take much more stuff like this until i have more time. but the idea was too good to pass on. i couldn't help myself. also the first time i've written a poly relationship and a threesome. like, this is really a new thing for me. so if its not up to the same standards as what i usually write or its too much for you, then its fine not read it. i am thankful anyway. in any case, if there are people who will enjoy it, thank you. and im glad you enjoy it with it. i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

kayu's playlist, side 2500;

USUALLY THE APPLAUSE ENDS WHEN YOU GET OFF THE STAGE. But somehow, it does not stop even as you get down the steps of the stage. Your name had just echoed through the speakers, immortalized in the annals of cinematic history. You will forever be someone, something. You will always have this.

You have to admit that the applause was deafening, a symphony of claps and cheers that reverberated through the grand hall. Yaga Masamichi was right when he told you all about the magic of winning. You will never forget that high, it was almost like a drug. You get addicted to the feeling. And you probably always will.

As you made your way down backstage, you could still feel the warmth of the stage lights against your skin, your pulse pounding as you clutched the golden statuette in your hands.

Everything about this moment, you knew that it was real—this moment, this win. You had never expected it. Not because you weren’t good, not because you didn’t believe in yourself. But because it just felt out of this world.

Yet, now it was not out of this world anymore. If anything, it was as it was. It was real. It was your moment. It was now well lived. Your name on this statuette, with the title Best Actress on it. It was all you had ever wanted. It was all you had ever worked for.

And yet, you think that wasn’t the most life-altering thing that has happened to you. If anything, what made the moment even more surreal was the man standing beside you, the one who had presented you with the award just moments earlier. You just didn’t know it yet.

Gojo Satoru.

A name that carried its own weight, synonymous with an ethereal kind of beauty that was almost otherworldly. The super model who graced the covers of international magazines, whose sharp yet delicate features seemed sculpted by the gods themselves.

His white hair gleamed under the lights, his signature tinted glasses pushed up just enough to reveal strikingly blue eyes. You think that it was so vibrant they almost seemed to glow.

You had always known he was beautiful.

Anyone with working eyesight would agree.

But it wasn’t just his looks that held your attention.

It was the way the charisma blew into magic when he spoke.

Even amidst the deafening applause, his dazzling voice had a way of cutting through the noise, a melodic timbre that was both smooth and deliberate. Each word was laced with that one of a kind subtle charm, effortlessly poetic in a way that made people want to listen.

He was almost like a siren, capturing people’s And when he turned to you, flashing that lazy, lopsided grin, his congratulations had felt far more intimate than the formalities exchanged on stage.

Backstage, you barely had time to process what had just happened to you. You were just stunned into silence. You absentmindedly accepted the congratulations from the staff and thanked them.

You were on cloud nine with this win. It wasn’t until you felt a hand brush against your shoulders did you find yourself turning around and meeting those dashing blue eyes of his.

"Congratulations." he murmured, standing close enough that you could catch the faintest hint of his cologne. It was something clean, fresh, and just a little bit sweet. "You deserved that win. Though, between us, I already knew you’d take it."

His sweetened voice was lighter now, teasing, yet beneath it lay something that felt sincere. You found yourself truly turning to him, meeting his gaze fully, and for a moment, it felt as if the chaos of the evening had melted away. Your chaos lay now with him, in this face to face.

"You’re awfully confident in me, Mr. Gojo." you mused, still catching your breath.

"Shouldn’t I be?" His lips curved slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. "I’ve seen your work. You don’t just act in that. I think you truly became her, that spanky witful comedian. It was never a question of if you’d win, only when."

A rush of warmth spread through you, different from the exhilaration of winning, softer in a way that made your heart stutter. Gojo Satoru had just complimented your craft. You knew that it was genuine, real. It was not words echoed out of politeness, not as part of some scripted pleasantry, but as someone who had truly seen you.

And somehow, in the midst of all the flashing cameras and roaring applause from before, that felt like the biggest victory of the night. Because if you were being honest, you were much too certain that not a lot of people understood your craft, how you took it so seriously.

How you lived and breathed it. He understands. You could see that look in his eyes. He breathed his work as much as you did. Your fingers tightened around the trophy in your hands, its cool weight grounding you amid the dizzying realization that Gojo Satoru had just seen you in a way so few ever had.

You turned to him, studying the way his signature blindfold had been abandoned for the night, allowing you to meet his gaze fully. Those striking blue eyes filled with mischief, but something else too. Something that felt dangerously close to admiration.

“You… really think so, huh?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost uncertain.

Gojo’s lips quivered into that signature grin of his, but there was no teasing in it this time. Only sincerity remained. “Would I lie to you?”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yes. You absolutely would.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Ouch. And here I was, being all nice and supportive. Maybe I should just take it back—”

“Don’t you dare now, Mr. Gojo.” you cut in, pointing a finger at him.

His grin widened, but then, as if something shifted in him, he tilted his head slightly. “But I do mean it, sweetheart.” he said, softer this time. “You didn’t just play the part—you embodied it. That’s rare.”

The rush of warmth in your chest deepened, turning into something else entirely, something you weren’t ready to name. You swallowed, gripping your trophy tighter. “Thank you, Mr. Gojo. Really.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, and it was unsettling how quiet he became, how he almost seemed to be considering something. Then, his lips twitched again. “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart.” he said, stepping closer. “You do know this means I’m expecting even greater things from you next time, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “So you’re saying I just won an award, and you’re already raising the bar on me?”

Gojo clicked his tongue. “Come on, you wouldn’t want me to go easy on you, would you?”

And just like that, the weight of the night, the exhaustion, the pressure. Somehow, all of it felt lighter. Because if Gojo Satoru, of all people, saw your passion, then maybe, just maybe—you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were meant for this. Your obsession with your work will pay off.

“Oh, by the way, sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to call me Mr. Gojo all the damn time.” He says to you, a sly smile on his lips. “You can just call me Satoru.”

You raised a curious brow, a small snicker leaves your lips. “While you call me sweetheart?”

“Precisely that, sweetheart. You’re so good at keeping up with me.”

You laugh. “Well, I do try.”

The after-party of the awards ceremony was in full swing by the time you arrived. You would have arrived sooner had you decided to go directly to the party. But you didn’t pay thousands on a custom dress for it not to be used.

So, you went back to your hotel and got ready again in order to get dressed. And you had to say, it was worth it. This dress was more comfortable than the one you wore on stage.

You walked in rather carefully, letting your ears jam through the outgoing echoes of music playing in the background. The entire venue was just exorbitantly bathed in the afterglow of warm, golden light with glasses clinking and laughter humming through the air like a soft melody.

This was a lovely little celebration from the management team, which was usually an invite only event. This was only for the best and brightest in the industry, where directors, actors, and producers mingled effortlessly, champagne in hand. And now you can only suppose you were one of them.

You had barely taken a sip from your own glass when you felt a familiar presence approaching. You immediately found yourself looking up as you heard the footsteps grow louder towards you. You couldn’t help but find yourself paying attention to it more than ever, more than the music in the background.

“Enjoying your victory, superstar?”

You turned, already knowing who it was before you even laid eyes on him.

Once again, standing there in all his wonder and might, dazzling.

It was a bright and beautiful Gojo Satoru standing before you.

He looked just as effortlessly stunning as he had on stage earlier, only now he had shed the formal pretense. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, revealing a sliver of collarbone. His dark rimmed glasses were nowhere to be seen, leaving his piercing blue eyes completely unobscured—unfairly bright under the party lights.

“I was genuinely enjoying it.” you said smoothly, lifting your glass to your lips. “But I think it just got a little more interesting.”

His grin widened at that. “Oh? I do have that effect on people.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way his presence filled the space around you. His grin widened as he leaned in just slightly, just enough to make you aware of how close he was without crossing the line.

“So, tell me, sweetheart.” he mused, swirling the drink in his hand. “What’s it like? You can be honest now, right? How was winning Best Actress? Holding that little golden trophy and knowing you’re officially the best in the business?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Mmm… I suppose it feels a little surreal. Like I’m in a dream.”

“A dream, huh?” He smirked. “Guess that makes me your charming co-star then.”

You arched a brow. “What makes you think you’re part of my dream?”

“Because, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I think a dream means looking up. And you haven’t stopped looking at me all night.”

You scoffed, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Satoru was hard not to look at, after all.

He was a very, very pretty being to you.

“Big words for a man who’s been following me since I stepped off that stage, isn’t it?”

His laughter was rich, genuine. “Can you blame me? I have excellent taste.”

“You mean you like collecting award winners?” you teased, taking another sip of your drink.

“Nah, not that.” he leaned in, voice lower now, more intimate. “Just the ones who can keep up with me, sweetheart.”

Your heart did something strange in your chest, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Is that so?”

“Yes, so, truly.”

“Then I hope you don’t get tired too quickly.” you murmured, stepping just a little closer. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

His gaze darkened just slightly, intrigue flashing And just like that, the night had only just begun. Drink after drink was served to both you and him, the glasses never empty for long. The air was thick with laughter, the hum of conversation, and the clinking of glass against glass. The afterparty was in full swing, but somehow, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

Supermodel icon Gojo Satoru was an enigma. You had seen him on stage at fashion shows, commanding attention without so much as trying. He had that effortless allure, the kind that made people lean in, wanting to know more, yet never quite getting close enough to unravel the mystery of him.

Yet, you realized something. Drawing you in wasn’t the same as keeping you. Like the siren that he was, he lured you in with his charm, his easy smile, his teasing words. And just when you thought you had a grasp on him, he’d slip right through your fingers, leaving you yearning for more. It wasn’t just attraction; it was something else entirely. A hypnotic pull that made his presence almost intoxicating.

Satoru and you had quite a fair bit in common. The relentless passion for your work, the thrill of being on stage. Whether it was acting or modeling, the way you both lived for the art of performance.

You had spent years perfecting your craft, slipping into different roles with the ease of someone who had learned how to exist in multiple worlds at once. And him? He wore his confidence like a second skin, dazzling, untouchable.

But here, now, in the low light of the afterparty, with the remnants of celebration still hanging in the air, he felt different. Less like the untouchable figure everyone admired from afar, and more like someone real—someone sitting across from you with a half-finished drink, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“You’re thinking too much, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip.

You raised a brow. “And you can tell that how?”

Gojo smirked. “Because you always get this look when you’re analyzing something. It’s like you’re trying to pick it apart piece by piece.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to make your breath hitch. “So, tell me—what exactly are you trying to figure out?”

You hummed against your glass, looking at it studiously, before looking up back at him with an enticing smile. “Guess.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. And that had made you feel something deep inside, something you were not sure how to describe. This was the first time you’ve ever experienced that. It was new, it was fast approaching. You don’t know how to dodge.

“Oh, sweetheart.” he chuckled, tilting his glass toward you in a mock toast. “I’m counting on figuring it out.”

You laughed. “Then I look forward to the challenge.”

For a moment, you watched him return that laugh. Before finding that his eyes were wandering elsewhere. You were curious, trying to follow where his beautiful eyes would land. Yet you could not tell how congested the crowd of celebrities were through the vestiges of the room. Before long, you found him getting closer to you.

Gojo Satoru leaned in with that playful smirk and said, “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet, sweetheart.”

You knew things were about to get even more interesting. You nodded at him before you followed him through the sea of guests, past industry elites and fellow actors basking in their victories, until he finally stopped near the stage where the evening’s performances were set to take place.

And that’s when you saw him.

You couldn’t help but let your mouth go agape.

It was him. It was truly him. It was Geto Suguru.

That name alone carried weight—one of the biggest soloists in the industry, a voice that had dominated the charts and hearts alike. Unlike Gojo Satoru, who was all radiant charm and untamed confidence, Geto Suguru simply exuded something deeper, something more rugged. Something rougher, less polished but just as mesmerizing.

His long, wavy dark hair was tied back loosely, a few strands falling over sharp features that looked carved with intention. Where Gojo Satoru’s presence was blinding, Geto Suguru’s existence was rather similar to smoldering. It was an ember that burned slowly but left its mark permanently for forever all the same.

“Suguru, meet our Best Actress.” Satoru introduced his tone light but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “And lucky for her, she gets an exclusive front-row seat to your performance.”

Suguru couldn’t help but turn to you then, his gaze steady, dark lilac eyes deep and assessing in a way that sent an unexpected thrill down your spine. He gave you a slow, knowing smile. One you could not decipher as easily as Satoru's smile. Suguru’s smile was not as flashy as Satoru;s own but no less captivating. If anything, it was wrapped layers you could not understand.

“I saw your speech earlier.” he said, voice smooth, rich, and deep like a song before the first note hit. “You carry yourself well, don’t you? But I get the feeling you’re even more interesting when you’re not under the spotlight.”

You arched a brow, matching his energy. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

Satoru couldn’t help but let out an exaggerated groan beside you. “You two are already doing the mysterious, brooding thing, aren’t you?”

Suguru shot him a look, amused. “And you’re not?”

Satoru dramatically placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I am the light of this party, thank you very much.”

You laughed, and a mysterious gaze flickered to you again. It lasted more than just a second longer. Yet, that was all that was necessary. It was just enough to make you feel it hit home hard. Then the stage lights shifted, and the room quieted as the host took the mic.

“And now, we have a special treat tonight. Performing his newest song, please welcome the one and only—Geto Suguru!”

The applause swelled, and Suguru gave you one last glance, something unreadable in his expression. Then he stepped forward, took the stage, and the moment he started singing. It was sultry, it was smooth, It was all the while suave and low, and all the same honest and raw, and most of all, devastatingly beautiful.

In that moment, you like to think you finally understood. If Gojo Satoru was the kind of man who captured attention like a supernova, then Geto Suguru was the kind that pulled you in slowly with an unshakable gravity, steady and impossible to ignore.

And right now, you were falling for the charm of both.

Right now you were captured by both of the siren calls.

Yet you were not running the other direction for help.

If anything, you were letting them drown you to the tune of their voices.

You could tell that the more Geto Suguru’s voice filled the venue with milk and honey, the air shifted in a way that would change the world forever. The once lively chatter quieted, replaced by the hypnotic pull of his music. Everything about what he was echoing through that voice, you could tell that there was something that crawled under your skin and settled there, leaving a slow burn in its wake. And he knew it, the moment your eyes met.

You had heard his songs before, of course. You weren’t living under a rock. But it was just so different hearing it live. It was different when you find yourself under his beck and call. His voice was a magic that drags you back in, it was a very heavy feeling. It was the kind that lingered even after the music stopped. You barely registered Satoru watching you, his grin turning knowing.

He leaned down and murmured, “Careful, sweetheart. He has that effect on people.”

You scoffed but didn’t look away from the stage. “And you don’t?”

The white haired man couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, I definitely do. But Suguru? He’s got that slow-burn kind of charm. The kind that sneaks up on you slowly but surely.”

You could see what he meant. If Gojo Satoru was a flash of lightning—brilliant, impossible to ignore. Then you were certain that Geto Suguru was his opposite. Suguru was the slow, rolling thunder that followed. Something deep, resonant, that stayed long after the strike.

As the final notes of the song faded, the applause erupted. Suguru’s gaze flickered over the crowd before landing on you. He held it for just a moment longer than necessary, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips before he dipped his head in thanks and left the stage.

A moment later, he was back, stepping up beside you as if he hadn’t just held the entire room captive. As if he didn’t hold you captive. You swallowed the bile down back into your throat, gathering yourself. He looks quite amused.

“So?” he asked, his voice still carrying the remnants of his performance. “Did I live up to the hype?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You were alright.”

Satoru snorted, nearly choking on his drink. Suguru just couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his dark velvet eyes. You looked at him almost like you were quite the proud cat.

“Just alright?” he mused, voice smooth as silk. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to impress the Best Actress of the night.”

You met his gaze, feeling the way his words coiled around you, slow and deliberate. But you weren’t going to let him win that easily.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, then.”

Something in Suguru’s eager smirk deepened, like he enjoyed the challenge. Beside you, Gojo Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. You raised a brow at him, as though trying to ascertain why he had even looked at you.

“Great. Now there are two of you.” he lamented, shaking his head. “I swear, it’s like watching a slow-burning movie where the main characters refuse to admit they’re into each other.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what does that make you?”

Satoru had grinned, throwing an arm around both you and Suguru, pulling you in effortlessly. “Oh, I’m the fan-favorite all day everyday pretty man that everyone secretly loves. Obviously.I thought we already had this in the bag, hm?”

You blinked at him and then started laughing. All the sudden, it was three of you laughing, the tension breaking just enough to feel effortless joy about it. But as the night stretched on into the dark flutterings under the moon-light. Everything was filled with drinks, laughter, and glances that lasted a little too long. You knew one thing for certain.

Between Gojo Satoru’’s playful, magnetic pull and Geto Suguru’s slow, smoldering intensity, you were caught somewhere in between. And you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be freed. If anything, you wanted for this to go on.

The night surely and happily pressed on, glittering and intoxicating, the kind of night that felt like it belonged in a movie, it felt ever so much like the classics. Like the one where the lighting was just right, the music was just loud enough, and the energy in the air made everything feel a little too good to be real.

The two of them seemed to be happy to be striking close, even more so orbiting around you like the world had narrowed down to a world where you were the sun and they were the planets that danced all about you. It was like a universe made for three. The blundering conversations blended together, champagne glasses clinked, but their attention never really strayed.

Then, sometime between the second drink and the third, Gojo Satoru slowly leaned in, a lazy, knowing smirk curling on his lips. "So, are we just going to let you disappear after tonight? Or are you going to give us your number?"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh? Are you asking for my number, Satoru? Or my agent’s number? You gotta be certain if you wanna hear the ring, hm?"

He clicked his tongue. "Obviously. I need a way to annoy you outside of events like these. Of course you know who’s number I want.”

Suguru, standing just behind him, chuckled, the sound low and amused. "What he means to say is—it'd be a shame if this was the last time we talked." His gaze flickered down to you, warm but unreadable. "Don't you think? Of course, without the heap of professional lines ringing."

You could feel the weight of their attention, the way Gojo Satoru’s was playful but insistent, while Geto Suguru’s was steady, deliberate. But if they thought you were going to make it easy? No, you weren’t born to be easy. They were just simply mistaken.

You smiled, tilting your head. "Hmm. My number, huh? You boys must not be used to working for things."

Satoru let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, it’s not that. If anything, it’s just the fact that I love a challenge."

Suguru laughed and then let his lips settle into a mere smirk. "And you must not be used to people willing to chase you down too, don’t you think?"

Oh. You think to yourself absent-mindedly. I’ve been caught.

Your languid fingers curled around the stem of your glass, hiding the way their words sent a slow, creeping heat up your spine. You could feel the heat permeate through your skin as you purse your lips into a rather tight line.

Satoru leaned in even closer, his voice dipping lower, just for you. "So? Are you going to make us work for it? Or make it even more….fun?"

You let yourself hum about, pretending to think. But you were sure to settle with the world you were already willing to live in. You know it yourself even with this sly attitude you were portraying before them.

Then, with a slow smile, you reached for a napkin, plucked a pen for that prop pen in Suguru’s pocket. He didn’t even flinch, just watched you with lazy interest and scribbled something down. Then, just as smoothly, you tucked it into Satoru’s pocket instead of handing it over.

Satoru couldn’t help but blink, glancing down, then grinned. "Well, aren’t you a little minx."

Suguru took a sip of his drink, amused. "That better not be a fake number, doll."

You simply gave them a look, one that promised nothing and everything all at once. "Guess you'll just have to find out."

The white haired model laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I like you."

The dark haired singer could only smirk, something unreadable flickering behind his dark lilac eyes. “Intriguing, doll.”

The night had already stretched long and far by then, the energy still thrumming through the air, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in. You were surely in need of the rest now, you were sure. The weight of the evening, of winning, of celebrating, of whatever game you were playing with the two most dangerously charismatic men in the room. It was all finally settling over you.

You stifled a yawn behind your hand, the warmth of the drinks making your limbs pleasantly heavy. The music pulsed in the background, the chatter of the party still alive and buzzing, but your focus had narrowed to just the two of them. Gojo Satoru, with his sharp, knowing grin, and Geto Suguru, watching you with that quiet, unreadable amusement.

The blue eyed model leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms behind his head. “Tapping out already? That’s a shame,isn’t it?” he drawled, tilting his head at you. “I was just starting to have fun with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up from your seat. “Some of us have limits, Satoru.”

Suguru chuckled, setting his drink down with a soft clink. “Smart girl, isn’t she, Satoru? We can’t have her play with hyenas for too long.” His gaze flickered over you, thoughtful. “Wouldn’t want you pushing yourself too hard, doll. Big night and all.”

You hummed noncommittally, grabbing your phone off the table. “And yet, somehow, I get the feeling you two are going to keep going until sunrise.”

Satoru gasped dramatically. “You wound me. What kind of degenerates do you take us for?”

Suguru gave him a side-eye. “Don’t answer that.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. There was something so easy about this, about them. It wasn’t lost on you that they were both dangerous in their own way. It was one that was dazzling and reckless, the other being composed and calculating. And yet, here you were, caught between the two worlds, happy to want to see more.

“Well, it’s been fun, distinguished gentlemen, but your lady needs beauty rest.” you announced, stepping back. “Can’t have this Best Actress haggard on the screens.”

Suguru raised a brow. “Need someone to walk you back?”

You smirked. “What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

Satoru grinned, his tone teasing. “Oh, we know you can handle yourself. But I’d feel bad if someone else tried to steal our star of the night before the morning came.”

You shook your head at them, amused. “I think I’ll manage. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

Suguru lifted his glass in a silent toast, and Satoru shot you a wink. You snickered at their partings.

“No promises, sweetheart.”

YOU WERE SURE THAT EVERYONE DIDN’T LIKE YOU AT THIS MOMENT. But you think it got worse when everything was announced. Needless to say, it was something that came with fame. Now more so with the interweb. People like to go crazy with everything and anything they see, like a flock of crows pestering for that new shiny thing.

The internet absolutely had a meltdown. Not because you were a bad person or that you were a bad actress. To be honest, not because of anything you did. But because of something you had to do (and particularly, wanted to do for yourself). They just could not help themselves. How could they?

The announcement alone in bright big bold letters—GETO SUGURU CASTING BEST ACTRESS AS HIS ONE AND ONLY LOVER IN HIS UPCOMING MUSIC VIDEO DROP—was truly enough to send fans into a wild frenzy. But then came the real bombshell.

There were intimacy scenes.

The teaser dropped with a single frame: you and Suguru, standing very close under the vibrant echo of those dim hitting neon lights as they glowed for you somberly, tenderly.

His muscular hand resting at the small of your back, your tender fingers curled into the front of his shirt. His face was mere inches from yours, his dark lilac eyes locked onto your plump lips like he was moments away from closing the distance. From doing what was forbidden.

As you can tell, the internet imploded.

“WE WON. I REPEAT, WE WON.”

“This isn’t even a rumor anymore. It’s evidence.”

“Nah cause all the men in this world have to be somewhere LOSING THEIR MINDS.”

“Geto Suguru’s so smooth with it. This is insane behavior.”

“Nah, cause at this point, how can any other fanboy survive this?”

But of course, nothing sent people spiraling harder than the behind-the-scenes clips that started surfacing a few days later.

Behind the Scenes Footage – Interview Clip

The camera carefully pans to you, as you seated comfortably into your own cast chair, the set glowing in the background. You were still dressed in your costume after all this time. It was hours and hours into the set filming and yet your makeup remained blinding, your outfit continued to be carefully styled to match the aesthetic of the video. You were just drop–dead gorgeous.

"So, how does it feel working on a music video with Geto Suguru?" the interviewer asked. “Is it different from all your other works before?”

You smiled. "Oh, it's been great. Suguru's an incredible artist, and getting to bring his vision to life has been such a cool experience. In some ways, yes, it is different. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fun, exciting vibe on set before."

From off-camera, a voice interrupted—smooth, teasing. "Suguru? You only call me that when you're being professional, don’t you?"

The camera turned just in time to catch Geto Suguru walking over, his usual lazy smirk in place, a cup of hot coffee in one hand. He carefully extended it to you wordlessly, like this was routine. You took it without hesitation, muttering a quiet thanks.

"We are on set, aren't we?" you shot back playfully.

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "She’s acting like we haven’t been friends. I am wounded, you guys. Really!"

The interviewer jumped on that. "So you’d say you’re just good friends?"

"Absolutely." you replied smoothly, giving the camera an easy smile.

Suguru grinned at the camera. “One hundred percent.”

That would’ve been enough to cool down the firestorm.

Behind the Scenes Footage – Scene Rehearsal

The video opened with you and Suguru standing in the middle of the set, the director adjusting the lighting. You were supposed to be blocking a moment from the music video—a near-kiss scene, the tension at its peak. The director gave his cue.

You took a step forward, Suguru’s hand instinctively finding your waist. Your breath hitched just slightly at his action, though you were not from nerves. It just felt natural. You just know it was because he was good at this. The way he looked at you, the way his fingers barely pressed against your skin, the way his head tilted just enough to make it look too real.

Then—"CUT!"

The director reset the scene, and the moment was broken. But before the cameras stopped rolling, Geto Suguru leaned down, voice low but very much caught on the mic. "You good?"

You nodded, stepping back with a teasing grin. "What, you nervous? Didn’t take you for a rookie now."

He huffed a laugh. "Not even a little. Just making sure you don’t fall for me on set."

You rolled your eyes. "Please. You wish."

And just like that, the internet broke again.

"Just good friends BUT YOU SEE HOW HE LOOKS AT HER???"

"I know acting when I see it, and THAT was NOT acting."

"I bet her significant is somewhere watching this like 👁️👄👁️."

"WHY is there more chemistry in this behind-the-scenes clip than in some actual romance films???"

"They are making me insane. Just date already."

But despite the theories, the conspiracies, the undeniable fire in every interaction, you never said anything else. You were too good at that. You were too good at hiding away and never revealing more than what you wanted anyone and everyone to know.

After all, you were an actress. And you wouldn’t be good at your job if you weren’t this good at keeping things underwraps. When asked in another interview about the rumors?

You just smiled. "Spoilers."

And when Geto Suguru was asked later on?

He just smirked. "She said it best."

The mystery continues on and on.

THIS WAS NOT AN EXPECTED ROUTE. People thought that things would remain as they were after you broke the world. But the moment the casting announcement dropped, the internet lost once again its mind. You just couldn’t help it. You just liked making the headlines once and a little while. You wanted to make the mundane a little bit more interesting. Well, in the right times.

SUPER MODEL GOJO SATORU TO DEBUT IN ACTING—ROM COM FILM WITH OSCAR WINNING ACTRESS [YOUR NAME] THIS UPCOMING FALL!

Your name and his were plastered across every headline, every social media platform buzzing with excitement and speculation. It was damn crazy, perhaps just as crazy as what happened with Suguru. You were already a household name, but Gojo Satoru? Satoru was on a whole other level. He was more than a phenomenon. He was a lifestyle. He was a life.

The runway darling, the face of every luxury campaign, the man who could sell out a designer collection just by breathing near it. And now? He was stepping into your world. And he was doing it right beside you. He knew you were the one who called the shots here.

After all, you were the mystique of the world. You were the wonder that kept on dazzling. It’s not likely for you to stop. If anything, he wanted to help you with that. You just had to lead the way. He’s going to follow you, happily so.

Behind the Scenes – Press Conference

The first time you and Gojo Satoru appeared together for promotions, the energy in the room was undeniable. It was addicting. It was almost palpable, almost too unbearably dazzling. Satoru was dressed in an effortlessly tailored suit, leaned lazily into his mic, smirking like he already knew what was coming.

The moderator smiled. "So, Mr. Gojo, this is your first film. What was it like acting alongside Oscar winning actress [Your Name], who’s already such an established star?"

Satoru turned to you immediately, tilting his head with a teasing grin. "Honestly? Kinda unfair."

You raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Unfair? Do tell why so, Mr. Gojo. Your senpai would like to know more about it."

He nodded, sighing dramatically. "Yeah. Like, here I am, my first time on a film set, and I’m acting with someone who already has awards and critical acclaim. Obviously, people are going to compare us. It’s like trying to learn how to swim next to an Olympic gold medalist."

The audience laughed. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "You do realize people have been calling you the cinematic face of the decade right?"

Satoru gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Aww, were you keeping up with my press, sweetheart? That’s absolutely making my heart jump right now."

You scoffed. "It was kind of hard to avoid."

The reporters were eating up your chemistry. Cameras continued to flash brightly, fingers typed furiously on keyboards, trying to get every bit of your words in for this hot headliner. Then, of course, someone asked the question everyone had been waiting for.

"You two seem really comfortable together. There have been a lot of rumors about your closeness. Can you comment on that?"

Gojo Satoru didn't even hesitate. He turned to you, grinning. "Well, if I say we’re just good friends, will you tell me I have to try harder?"

You blinked, thrown off for exactly half a second before regaining your composure. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, you responded. "I think you already know the answer to that. You’re well too aware of what I have to say. In depth too, kouhai."

The white haired man couldn’t help but light up, throwing his head back with a laugh brightly at your words. Almost as though he was just lost into the world of your comebacks. It was like each word you breathed was something he giggled for, like it was worth losing composure for. The audience went insane.

The headlines that followed? Even worse.

"Oh, this movie promo tour is about to be SO unserious."

"We’re never getting a straight answer out of them, are we?"

"Not Gojo openly flirting in front of an entire press panel HELP."

"Geto is 100% watching this like 👁️👄👁️."

"This is Geto's villain origin story."

“Bro is literally kicking his feet and giggling so bad like hes down BADDDDDD”

On Set

The chemistry was even worse when the cameras started rolling. It didn’t matter if it was a simple dialogue scene or a moment dripping with tension. Gojo Satoru was just quite natural in front of the camera, and the way he played off you? It was magic. One they had never seen before. One that was just too good to deny.

One particular scene had the entire crew buzzing, though.

The lighting was soft, intimate. You were standing close, your character meant to be arguing with him, but somehow, the space between you kept shrinking and shrinking. Little by little, nothing was left but the flesh was nearly touching. Like you were just longing to be close. Like you were longing to blend into one.

You could feel your breath hitching as you looked at him. The dialogue called for intense tension, but the way Satoru’s own voice dropped just slightly, the way his fingers brushed the bare skin of your wrist like it was an accident—it felt real. Way too real.

"Cut!"

The director sounded thrilled. His vision was coming to life. He patted Satoru’s back before smiling down at you. He moved away, walking towards the camera director to check the footage. You stepped back, shaking off the lingering heat, but Satoru? He couldn’t help but just smirk.

Leaning down, he murmured. "Careful, sweetheart. People might think you actually like me."

You scoffed with amusement, shoving his shoulder. "I should be saying that to you."

Satoru chuckled, the sound low and teasing as he straightened up. “Oh, but I do like you.” he said smoothly, tilting his head. “I think that’s the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. It wasn’t your fault. The way he played his roles, the way he blurred the line between acting and reality. The way everything was just as it was.

It was real, it was so tangible, so within the reach of your hands. You just couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by him. He had a presence that was impossible to ignore, and the worst part? He knew it.

“Lucky for you, I’m a professional.” you shot back, crossing your arms. “I don’t fall for co-stars.”

His smirk widened, bright blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Mm, that so, sweetheart?” He took a step closer, just enough to toe the line between playful and dangerous. “Because I gotta say, you looked pretty into it just now.”

You scoffed, brushing past him, ignoring the way your pulse skipped slightly. “That’s called acting, Satoru. Maybe try it sometime.”

His laughter brightly followed you as you walked off, but you didn’t have to turn around to know he was still watching. From the corner of the set, a familiar voice cut in. You could tell the tenor was smooth and dangerously amused.

"Funny. I was just about to say the same thing."

You turned around, your ears almost perking.

Standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable—Geto Suguru.

The internet?

It was going crazy.

Your breath hitched for just a second before you masked it with a slow blink, shifting your gaze from Satoru to Suguru. He stood there, arms crossed, his dark lilac eyes sharp, unreadable. You were in quite the predicament.

"Didn't realize you were watching." you said smoothly, though the sudden shift in energy between the three of you was impossible to ignore.

Suguru tilted his head slightly, his expression giving nothing away. "Didn't realize I had to announce myself, doll.

Satoru let out a low whistle, stepping back just slightly, as if enjoying the scene from the sidelines. "Ooooh, this just got interesting."

OF COURSE, THIS OPENED THE WORLD TO SOMETHING NEW WHEN IT CAME TO YOU. It was just a fun little thing, trying to play a guessing game when it came to you, Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru. And it didn’t help that you were all helping play the games by fanning the flames to the rumors that came one after the other.

Not when you were spotted at that Paris fashion show sitting between Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, whispering things that made them laugh while cameras flashed like crazy. Not when some mysterious hand appeared in your Instagram stories. Those fingers being decked out in rings that fans quickly identified as Suguru’s own.

Not even when Satoru posted a very blurry photo of you and Suguru sitting in a hotel room, the caption reading: “Multi Oscar winner, chart-topping Grammy winner, and me, a humble model. What a trio.”

Every year, the internet collects all the evidence about the three of you. And every year, you three gave them more and more to have fun with.

The Timeline of Chaos

1. The Infamous Concert Incident

The world lost it when you and Satoru randomly showed up at Suguru’s sold-out stadium concert, in one of those VIP boxes. The fans were certain that Suguru made sure you had a spot just for the two of you, and quite close to him too. It was really obvious.

It wasn’t the fact that you attended. It was the fact that, mid-performance, Geto Suguru went ahead and walked straight to where you two were sitting, smirked, and sang directly to you. And Satoru? Instead of looking jealous, he just threw an arm around you, grinning like he had front-row seats to the greatest show on earth.

"No, because what are we supposed to DO with this information?"

"Is Satoru just watching Suguru serenade [Your Name] like he's a proud husband???"

"I fear we are witnessing a love story unfold in real time."

2. The Vacation Photos That Weren’t Meant to Be Seen

One summer, paparazzi caught the three of you on vacation. It was not out of the ordinary for you. You always went on various trips everywhere with your friends, whether celebrity or not. But there was something different when you were with Suguru and Satoru. This particularly was a different trip from the rest.

You, Suguru, and Satoru, were on a private beach. Satoru eagerly grinned in the morning sunrise in sunglasses and swim trunks, carrying you over his shoulder while you screamed in protest, dressed in your bikini. Suguru was in the background, laughing, sipping a drink like this was an everyday occurrence. The photos hit the tabloids immediately.

"HOLLYWOOD’S FRIENDLIEST TRIO OR IS IT SOMETHING MORE?"

You? You just posted a blurry selfie of the three of you later that night, captioned: “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Satoru, sulking, commented: “They’re bullying me.”

Suguru smugly replied: “You deserve it.”

3. The Red Carpet Moment That Ended Everyone

The biggest nail in the coffin to the public however was that one awards show in England. You were presenting an award, Satoru was invited as a guest and Suguru was nominated. The camera panned to you on the red carpet, glowing, stunning, an absolute vision. And then—Enter Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

Satoru was striding up behind you with the confidence of someone who knew he was about to make headlines. Suguru was walking just a step behind, looking way too pleased with himself. And the way they flanked you? Like it was meant to be.

The interviewer looked at you, and then the boys. "You three are always spotted together. Should we be expecting a project soon?"

You smiled slyly. "Spoilers."

Satoru grinned. "You should know by now we don’t just give answers that easily."

Suguru just chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s more fun watching you all guess, after all."

And just like that, the internet once again erupted.

"THEY KNOW WHAT THEY’RE DOING."

"I CANNOT handle this trio anymore."

"Are they dating? Are they best friends? Are they just trying to send us into cardiac arrest???"

But no matter how many times people asked, no matter how much speculation spread—the only answer any of you ever gave was a smirk. And your boys on the leash? They were just as willing to play the game with you. The night ended with that infamous maddening vague tweet from you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

THIS WAS THE WORLD ONLY THE THREE OF YOU KNOW. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. You, Geto Suguru, and Gojo Satoru stood in a triangle, passionate eyes locked onto each other. Suguru’s smirk was devilish and excited, his lilac eyes gleaming with mischief. Satoru’s blue gaze was intense, a silent challenge passing between the three of you. The tension was palpable, electricity crackling in the air.

Suddenly, Suguru seamlessly reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. Satoru’s hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him.Their touches sent shivers down your spine, your heart racing with excitement and nerves. Even after so many times, it keeps bringing you the fire you wanted to burn in.

Suguru’s touch was gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing the contours of your face. Satoru’s grip on your waist tightened, his thumb brushing against the small of your back. The contrast between their touches was intoxicating, sending conflicting signals to your brain. Geto leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"You look delicious, doll." he whispered, his voice low and husky. The white haired man’s lips curled into a smirk, his blue eyes never leaving yours.

"Let's see how much you can handle tonight, though. You’ve been overworked, haven’t you, our poor baby?" Satoru cooes, his hand slowly sliding up your side. The air grew thicker, the tension almost unbearable

“Yes….” You mewled as you drew your body closer to his. “Need something good right now, ‘toru. Please.”

The blue eyed man smirk widened as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were firm yet soft, moving against yours with expert precision. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth. Meanwhile, Suguru’s lips tenderly found your neck, his kisses starting at your collarbone and trailing up.

His teeth grazed your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Satoru’s soft hands tangled in your brazen hair, deepening the kiss. Meanwhile, you could feel Suguru’s fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him.

The sensations you were feeling were just overwhelming, when you three are in need of relief like this. Everything from start to finish finds your mind fogging with desire. There was nothing that could stop you when you’ve begun.

You pulled away from Satoru’s searing kiss, your breath coming in short gasps. Suguru’s dark lilac eyes darkened even more with desire as you turned to him, pressing your lips against his and leaned in eagerly for a deep wanton kiss.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue tangled with yours. You could feel the tickle of Satoru’s lips trailed down your neck, his peppering kisses becoming more fervent as he reached your chest.

Satoru expertly unhooked your bra with ease. He looked at your breasts for a moment, basking in the wonder of such marvel before him. He smiles to himself as he leans forward, his bruising lips wrapping around one of your nipples.

You moan as his tongue circled the hardened peak, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Suguru’s hands roamed your back, his fingers digging into your skin as you both kissed over and over.

Suguru’s hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.You could only groan in pleasure as Satoru’s lips continued their assault on your chest, his tongue teasing your nipples even further as he passionately moved deeper and deeper into the depths of you.

The sensations were overwhelming, your mind fogging with desire. Suguru’s calloused fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down. Satoru’s hands followed suit, his touch grazing your thighs. Soon enough, you too needed air and parted from your lover. You looked at him with lust-ridden eyes.

They worked in sync, almost too well as they continued removing your clothing piece by piece until you stood bare before them. Suguru’s eyes raked over your body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with arousal. You whimper as Satoru releases your nipple. You looked at it, finding it quite the little red thing as he smiles at you.

“Lovely little red.” He whispers to you, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be a good boy tonight. Saved the other one for ‘guru.”

Suguru snickered. “Only right for me to have some claim, don’t I?”

“It’s time for you two to kiss like good boys then.” You whispered to your lovers, slowly laying down upon the bed. Your elbows are still propping you up. “You would do it, won’t you?”

They looked at each other, before snickering as they got closer. You stepped back, watching as Geto and Gojo's lips met in a fierce kiss. Their tongues clashed, hands gripping each other tightly, passionately, eagerly. The bed creaked slightly as you lowered down onto the pillow and enjoyed their desire for one another.

The sight was incredibly arousing, their lust for one another was too obvious and palpable. You were sure to get it going too as you kept your legs together, your arousal echoing down below. You bit your lip as Satoru’s hands slid down to Suguru’s chest, his tender fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. Suguru then broke the kiss, panting heavily. He grabbed Satoru’s wrist, stopping his movements.

"Not yet, Satoru." The dark haired man said, his voice husky with desire. He turned to you, his eyes burning with lust. “Need to do something first, don’t you think?”

Satoru looked at him and then to you. He slyly grinned. “Of course. Lady’s first.”

"Come here, doll." he commanded, pulling you back into the circle. Satoru’s lips quickly found your neck again, his kisses trailing down to your chest. “Need to love you first.”

Suguru’s hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Satoru’s tender lips continued their assault on your chest, his tongue teasing his claimed nipple. The sensations were overwhelming, your mind fogging with desire.

You could feel Suguru’s hands gripping your hips, lifting you effortlessly closer to his side of the bed. Satoru crawled in after you, his body pressing against your side. Suguru carefully climbed on top, his knees on either side of your hips. He leaned down, his lips hovering over yours.

"Tell us what you want, doll." he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

Satoru’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingers brushing against your core. "We'll give you anything you want. Just ask with your words, sweetheart." he murmured, his lips trailing kisses along your neck.

The air was thick with never ending tension, the anticipation to get closer and rougher was almost unbearable. You felt Suguru’s lips crash against yours once again, his kiss brutally demanding another passionate liaison with your bruising lips.

Satoru’s fingers parted your folds, his touch gentle yet firm. You groan against Suguru’s lips as Satoru slowly circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp over and over again. Suguru’s warm hands roamed your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He broke the kiss, his bruising lips trailing down your neck and chest. Satoru’s fingers slipped inside you rather easily, pumping slowly, in and out, watching your face pleasured with his touch. Suguru’s mouth then closed around his claimed nipple, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. The sensations were overwhelming, your body arching off the bed.

"Fuck, you're so wet, sweetheart." Gojo groaned, his fingers curling inside you.

Suguru’s lips popped off your nipple, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your skin. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your chest.

“Uh, uh—” You mewled as you tried to push your hips closer, deep into their fingers. “Please….”

"You like having both of us touch you like this, huh?" His own hand slid down, his fingers eagerly joining Satoru’s in pleasuring you.

“She’s so wet, ‘guru. It’s making me hard, what the fuck…..”

"Tell us what you want, doll. Use your words." Suguru demanded, his lilac eyes locked onto yours.

"Tell us how you want us to fuck you, sweetheart." You felt the pressure of Satoru’s thumb pressed against your clit, his fingers pumping faster.

“I….I… I want….”

"We'll do anything you ask." he promised, his voice husky with desire.

"Please." you gasped, your hips bucking against their hands. "I want you both inside me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me completely."

Suguru’s eyes darkened at your words, a feral grin spreading across his face. “But be patient first, doll. Need to make sure you cum first.”

You suddenly felt Suguru’s calloused fingers pick up speed, rubbing your clit in tight circles. Satoru’s fingers pumped in and out of you alongside Suguru’s, his touch firm and steady.

Their movements synchronized, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. Suguru leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. You groaned hard, feeling the pressure mount down below.

"Come on, doll." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Show us how much you want it."

Satoru pressed against your clit, his fingers curling inside you. The double stimulation was overwhelming, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. You incoherently mewl against their arms, feeling your body move against their touch to continue the friction.

"That's it, good job." Satoru encouraged, his voice husky." Let go for us."

Their fingers moved faster, pushing you over the precipice. Your body soon convulsed, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Suguru’s massive fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure. Satoru’s own fingers pumped slowly, his touch gentler now. You could feel pleasure build and built within you, like a dam ready to burst.

“I…I–I’m…. c–coming, ‘guru, ‘toru!”

“You’re doing a good job, doll. Come for us, come for us.”

Suguru’s fingers moved faster, his touch relentless. Satoru’s fingers pumped slowly, his touch gentler. Your body tensed, pleasure building to an overwhelming crescendo. Your sounds harmonized so beautifully to the sound of that slick that draws from within your crevices.

"That's it, doll." Suguru encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Come for us."

Satoru’sthumb pressed against your clit, his fingers curling inside you. The added stimulation pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it.

"Fuck, yes!" Suguru growled, his fingers continuing their relentless pace.

Satoru’s fingers continued to pump slowly and then soon enough getting in the pace the dark haired man was, drawing out your pleasure until it hit the crescendo.

It goes on and on until you find yourself breaking into overstimulation and growing limp in their touch, the mess of your pleasure soaking you and their fingers.

"You're so beautiful when you come." he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. As your orgasm subsided, you felt their fingers withdraw slowly. “So so beautiful.”

Satoru withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck clean. "Delicious." he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just delicious.”

"Beautiful." Suguru whispers as he too cleans your slick from his fingertips. Suguru’s free hand then slid up your body, his fingers tracing your collarbone. "You're so responsive, aren’t you, doll? Good job." he praised, his voice low and satisfied.

“So good….” You all but say. “I’m…I need…”

“You need what, sweetheart?”

“I….I need more.” You finally catch yourself saying. “Need…need you, need you so badly. Please.”

Suguru’s eyes darkened at your words, a smirk playing on his lips. "More, huh?" he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh.

Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with desire. "What do you need more of, exactly?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Their touches were gentle yet firm, igniting your skin wherever they landed. Suguru’s lips brushed against your ear. You could feel your sweat fall as he moved closer, his breath bellowing hotly against you.

Then your lover bit the side of your ear affectionately, whispering sweet nothings to you, before pressing a kiss. You cry in pleasure as he proceeds to nibble on the side of your neck, readily leaving hickeys to the side.

Satoru watches on the side, letting his hand touch the growing imprint of his member in front of him. He could feel it hurt as he watched you combust in the touch of your other lover. He mewls as he lets his palm brush against the cloth which separates the pleasure and pain growing inside of him.

"Tell us what you want." Satoru whispered, moving closer as his breath hot against your skin. "We'll give you anything."

You felt the white haired man’s hand slide up your stomach, his delicate fingers tracing your ribs and then your sides. It was as if he was memorizing them, to let them burn into his memory for until the next time. He lets the perfectness of your body pleasure his eyes as he wallows in the thought of wanting to be inside of you.

"Everything, sweetheart." he added, his voice dripping with promise. "Just say the word."

The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with tension. You felt your eyes turn to the growing members against their clothes, wanting to be free. You don’t think you’ve ever been this hungry in your entire life. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more than to be fucked into a doozy.

You then turned to meet their gaze. "I want you both so bad. Want you both inside me."

Your dark haired lover couldn’t help but feel his smirk widen his hand gripping your hip possessively. "Is that so?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Satoru’s blue eyes flashed with desire, his hand sliding down to palm his own length through his pants. "We can tell, sweetheart." he said, his voice low and husky. "The way you're looking at us, like you want to devour us whole into your cunny, into your backhole."

“Want you….want you to use me.” You whimper, almost pathetically. “Want you both inside….”

Suguru felt his eyes darkened at your words, a wicked grin blossoming on his lips. "Use you, huh?" he repeated, his voice low and amused.

Satoru’s gaze was equally intense, his pupils dilated with desire."In what way, exactly?" he asked, his tone dripping with promise. Suguru’s hand slid down your stomach, his fingers tracing your hips

"Want us to fuck you senseless?" he suggested, his touch firm. Satoru’s warm hand gripped your thigh, his nails digging into the skin.

"Or maybe you want us to mark you, claim you as ours?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Everything.” You cried out. “Everything and more. Please. Just….”

Suguru’s massive length pressed against your entrance, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Satoru’s hands spread your legs wider, his own hips positioning himself at your backside. You could feel the heat radiating off their bodies, the anticipation building to an unbearable level.

Your dark haired lover’s voice was strained as he asked. "Are you sure about this, doll? We're not exactly in the mood to be... gentle."

Satoru’s fingers teased your back entrance with his fingers, earning moans from you as he was applying gentle pressure with each and every push. "Last chance to back out." he murmured, his breath hot against your neck.

Their gazes were intense, filled with lust and dominance. It mirrored your own too well as you wrapped your arms around Suguru’s neck, as you leaned closer to Satoru from behind. You mewl as you feel your behind slowly loosen up.

“I want it.” You whisper to them eagerly. “Please, just go inside of me….I want to feel full of you.”

"As you wish, doll." he growled, shifting his position. He gripped your hips, positioning himself at your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice strained with anticipation.

Satoru smiles slyly, his hands spreading your legs wider to give himself room. Adding his own fingers aligns with the tender slope of your backside, pushing in with the ones he had already slicked and kept inside. “Already been here, ‘guru.”

Suguru pushed into you slowly little by little, his thickness stretching you deliciously. A low guttural moan escaped your lips, your back arching off the bed. You whimper as you adjust to being full front and back.

"Fuck, you're so tight, doll." he groaned, his hips settling against yours.

"Relax." Satoru murmured, his other hand caressing your side as he goes deeper in your back. "We'll go slow like we always do."

He pushed a finger inside you, moving it in tandem with Suguru’s thrusts. You could feel everything and anything. It was like they were on your throat. The sensation of being filled in both holes was overwhelming, your mind spinning with pleasure. Suguru began to move, his pace finally steady and deep. Satoru carefully added another finger, stretching you further.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." he praised, his breath hot against your ear. "Taking us both like this."

You keen as you felt the depth of Suguru’s hips slammed against yours one after the other, his thick angry cock plunging deep into your soaked pussy deeper than the last.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps. Satoru’s fingers continued pumping in and out relentlessly of your ass, the stretch burning pleasantly.

"Look at you." Satoru growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Taking us up like a good little sweetheart, just for me. Just for us.”

Suguru’s hand snaked around, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it roughly, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your back arches once again, your body shaking against the hit of wave after wave of pleasure. The push of his cock, his fingers

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me, doll. So, so much. God." he choked, the movements of his thrusts becoming erratic. “Your pussy is divine. It's a church down here. I’m being….blessed. Oh fuck, fuck…. So good, so so—”

Satoru’s fingers curled inside you, pressing against your prostate. "Come for us." he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Come all over us like the good girl you are.”

Your body tensed, your orgasm building rapidly. The sweat on your body blending against Suguru’s in a symphonic harmony. You could feel like you were on another planet.

Suguru’s cock inside you and his fingers on your clit and Satoru’s fingers your ass pushed you over the edge. Your tears poured down your face as you felt the bed creak against the wall, in the same pace along with your movements.

"Fuck! Fuck! Goddddddd…… I'm coming!" you screamed, your pussy clamping down on Suguru’s cock. Your asshole tightened around Satoru’s fingers, pulsing with each wave of pleasure. You choked on your spit. “Oh my godddddd—”

Suguru groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he spilled his hot seed deep inside you."Shit, fuck! Fuck! Yes, yeesssssss! Take it all, doll. Take it alllllll……" he panted, his cock twitching with each spurt.

Satoru’s fingers kept moving, drawing out your orgasm. "That's it, milk me with these fingers." he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. “Yesssssss…..”

As your orgasm subsided, Suguru refused to leave from within your crevices, small thrusts bringing in his cum inside of you. Soon enough, you felt Satoru remove his fingers from inside of you and started to lick himself clean once again. He smiled at you as you watched him clean himself of you once again as you took your breath.

A little while later, Suguru moves slightly in order to accommodate your other lover. You felt Satoru’s hard length pressing against your stretched backhole. You purse your dry lips into a line as you collect yourself.

"Ready for more?" he asked, his voice dripping with desire.

“Need you, ‘toru. Bring it on me….”

He smiles at you. Just as you asked, Satoru pushes his thick cock pushed into your sensitive asshole, stretching you even further. The feeling of being filled in both holes was overwhelming, the pleasure bordering on pain.

"Too much, too…..tooo full…." you gasped, your body trembling. Suguru hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. “Fuck….can feel you….can feel you on my throat. Both of you….fuckkkkkk….”

"Never too much, doll." he growled, his hips starting to move again.

His cock slid easily through your dripping pussy once again, coated in his own cum and your juices. Satoru from behind began to thrust, his pace slow but deep, bottoming little by little as he too gained his own speed.

"You can take it, sweetheart. You always have." he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck."You can take us both."

Their movements synchronized, one pushing in as the other pulled out. The sensation of being used, of being a toy for their pleasure, sent your mind spinning. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the overstimulation too intense.

Suguru’s grip on your throat only tightened as he pushed deeper into you, cutting off your air supply. Black spots danced in your vision, the lack of oxygen heightening every sensation.

Gojo Satoru’s thrusts became faster and faster, harshly brushing against you as his cock continued to mercilessly piston in and out of your ass.

"Look at you, doll." he panted, his voice strained by pleasure. "Taking us so well, even like this. I knew you could. You always do good.”

Suguru’s free hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh. He leaned down, his teeth sinking into the junction of your neck and shoulder. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, brushing into sweet moans and pulsing sweat, flesh against flesh, juices dancing through the crevices of your pleasures.

You knew everything was pushing you closer to the edge. Satoru’s hand snaked around, his fingers finding your clit once more, causing you to tear up from the overwhelming feeling. He pushed deeper into you, groaning as he rubbed just as roughly, his touch demanding your release.

"Come for us, sweet doll." Geto commanded, his voice muffled against your skin. "Come one last time like the good girl you are."

Your body grew limp as you convulsed, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You scream and scream in pleasure as you felt everything come crashing down on you, burying you in the endless echo in this pandemonium of pleasure.

As your orgasm peaked and pushed, Satoru and Suguru’s movements inside of you became even more erratic. They were so close, so damn close. It just felt good. Too good to be deep in the heat of you. You held tightly onto Suguru, who pushed you closer to Satoru’s back, the echo of Satoru’s thrust pushing you forward to Suguru. And vice versa.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….I’m going to cum again, doll. Fuckkkkkkkk—” Suguru choked on his words as he let his cock push hard one last time before coming inside of you once again. His new burst of hot piping cum pushed out the first one. “Fuck, fuck….so good, so good….”

Satoru soon followed suit, his fingers digging into your hips as he buried himself deep in your ass. "Fuck! shit, shitttttt, you’re too tight. I can’t hold on anymore, sweetheart. Fuckkk, shittttttttt—"

Your lover roared, his hot seed filling your back up endlessly. Their combined releases painted your skin with afterglow permeating under the sweat of the pressing skin, dirty little secrets, scratching and clawing and marks and blood whispering to the world that you are theirs.

You go limp in the middle of them, heaving and shaking from the pleasure. Soon enough, Suguru came down from his high and realized he was about to crush you. Suguru pulled out, earning a groan from you. Your dark haired lover carefully collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving.

Satoru pulled out slowly, a stream of his cum dripping from your well-used back hole. He heaved and shook as he tried to still his body. He lets his fingers push the dripping cum back onto your hole, making you mewl against him.

“Shhhh, don’t wanna see it to waste, don’t you?”

"Beautiful. You are so so beautiful, doll." Suguru murmured,looking at your fucked out expression as he laid beside you, his fingers tracing the mess on your skin. “Everything we love and more.

The room was silent except for your ragged breathing and the sound of your hearts pounding. Soon enough, exhaustion becomes of you. You first fell asleep, then Suguru and then Satoru. All three are enveloped into the confines of the love that only belongs to you. And in the whispers of the dark morrow, you would do it again and again, until nothing is left of you to give.

epilogue

Late Afternoon, the next day;

The world was burning with speculation with everything and anything that is happening over the past few hours. But you? This was not your concern. It never was, not when you had such a fun time last night. After all, you were waking up in a tangle of limbs, warm sheets, and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the remnants of last night.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden lines across the bed. Your body still very much ached in a way that made heat curl in your stomach at the memories. And when you stretched, a low chuckle sounded beside you.

“Well, well….” Satoru’s voice was still husky from sleep, his lips curling against your shoulder. “Sleeping Beauty awakens.”

Before you could roll your eyes, a lazy, calloused hand trailed down your back—Geto Suguru. His touch was deliberate, teasing. “You caused quite the scene last night, doll.” he murmured, voice like silk.

Your brows furrowed for a split second. Until you saw the phone on the bedside table, the screen was still open to the post. The post that had the world on its knees. Your notifications were on fire. Your phone was on Do Not Disturb, but even then, you could see the flood of missed calls, text messages, and thousands—no, millions—of reactions online.

Your name. Their names. Trending in every possible country.

And then there was your Instagram story.

That one, simple sweet dreams had single handedly ended people’s sanity.

You bit back a laugh, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh?” you mused, “And what exactly did I do?”

Satoru turned you on your back with obscene ease, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “Sweetheart, you knew what you were doing when you reposted that before passing out for the actual time.”

Suguru hummed in agreement, brushing his fingers over your collarbone. “It’s cute how they think they’ll ever get an answer.”

You smirked, stretching out between them. “Well, they’re the ones who keep looking for one.”

"They are EVIL. Absolute MENACES."

"No bc they’re just playing with us at this point."

"Why did she repost it like that? WHY."

"‘Sweet dreams’ WHERE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GO FROM HERE???"

"No bc this is Gojo, Geto, and [Your Name]’s world and we are merely struggling to exist in it."

"I fear the love triangle trope is not a love triangle but a polycule and that’s so real and it’s happening in front of us."

Fan edits? Immediate.

Discourse? Relentless.

Your names? Trending for 48 HOURS STRAIGHT.

People scrambled for theories. Some swore it was a joke. Some were convinced it was confirmation of the slowest-burning relationship reveal of the decade. And when you, Satoru, and Suguru resurfaced at an event later that week? Dressed to kill, standing way too close, sharing way too many inside jokes?

You all just smiled all together in front of everyone.

The interviewer tried again. "So, can we talk about that photo?"

Satoru leaned into the mic first, grinning like the devil. "What photo?"

Suguru smirked, tipping his glass in silent mockery. "You’re going to have to be more specific."

And you?

You just sighed, tilting your head with a teasing smile before repeating the words that had haunted everyone and everyone and their mothers and fathers and anyone else they had known for many more years, just like before.

You slyly smiled. “Guess.”

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