poppy’s archive

"Will you miss me, sensei? When you go back to Kyoto?"

Satoru holds out a little pink packet of candy the size of his hand. He wears a hopeful smile and those trendy round sunglasses that make him look like a polar bear cub. He brightens when you accept his gift with a nod, admiring the cute branding before slipping it into your jacket pocket.

You hum, turning your attention to him from the sunset over the forest encircling the campus. You adjust your legs where you sit on the engawa, leaning back against a wooden pillar and resting your arm over your knee. A can of soda hangs from your fingers. "Of course, Satoru. You're shaping up to become a great sorcerer. That trick you pulled with Suguru today was clever – brawn alone won't win you every fight, so I'm glad you're putting effort into strategising."

He puffs out his chest, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin. "I took your words to heart... even though I could have won with strength alone. Still, it was a good challenge. Don't you wish I were your student, sensei?" He strikes a pose and tosses up a peace sign, making you smile. "I'd make your class average go up since I'm smart and strong."

"That's true. I've heard from your teachers that you like to slack off, though, and you drag your classmates into it. Not sure that's in your best interests."

"I wouldn't if you were my teacher. The ones here talk so slow and boring. I know most of the stuff anyway, so what's bad about napping a little?"

"Well, if you're doing fine with the content, then I don't see much of an issue. The bosses send you out far too often and I know how late you can return, so it's good to catch up on sleep. Though I wish they'd ease up on you – you're still kids, after all." You shake your head. "I digress. I have more of a problem with how you distract your classmates. Don't you think that's unfair to them?"

Satoru pouts, taking a seat next to you and tucking his knees up to his chest. He wraps his arms around his bare legs, wiggling his toes in his slides. "It's their fault for not ignoring me."

"They wouldn't have to ignore you if you weren't doing anything."

"Stop poking holes in my argument. That's mean, sensei."

You laugh softly, raising the can of soda to your lips. Condensation gathers in little droplets down the colourful brand art. "Alright, alright. I'll stop harping on about it – you probably get enough of that with your teachers." You settle down more comfortably. "Have you been taking care of yourself, Satoru? Three proper meals a day?"

He blinks. It's been a long time since anyone's asked him how he was. Every letter from his clan only requested updates regarding his technique and whether or not he'd gotten stronger, better, more efficient – he doesn't want to admit it, but on bad days, the weight of their expectations grows heavy. They can call him a natural prodigy all they like, but having to figure everything out by himself is anything but easy.

You watch him patiently, a soft concern in your gaze which you don't try to hide. His heart flutters. It feels good to be cared about. To be... seen. 

"Yeah, 'm okay," he murmurs, pressing his cheek into the tops of his knees. "Just tired sometimes. I get headaches if I leave my eyes uncovered too long, or even if I just focus too hard. Hope I'll get it under control before graduating – it'd be such a pain to deal with that every single day."

"I'm sure you will, Satoru. You're resilient. More than you know." You offer a smile that's so trusting and wholehearted that Satoru knows you aren't lying. He finds himself smiling back.

"Thanks, sensei," he breathes, giggling shyly. It's almost pitiful how much you affect him. He scratches the back of his head. "I'll really miss you when you leave tomorrow. Can't you transfer campuses? I promise I'll be quiet in your classes. I'll even, like, raise my hand to answer questions. I never do that, by the way. But I would for you."

You chuckle softly and reach over to ruffle his soft white hair. He pouts, whining, but doesn't stop you. When you retract your hand, he finds himself leaning towards you, subconsciously searching for your touch. He stops before he topples over.

"You know I can't. I have family in Kyoto. Even if I didn't, I think spreading our strength across the country is better than piling it all in one place, no? We can protect more people that way."

He hums non-committally, disappointed but not too upset by your refusal; he can't expect you to change your mind just because he asks for the twentieth time, though it'd be nice if that happened. It's a net win, anyway – he likes the sound of your laughter and the warmth of your smile. You're patient and gentle, and god knows he needs that.

"Do you have a wife?" he asks suddenly. "Children?"

You tilt your head. "Hm? No. Where'd that question come from?"

He shrugs, gnawing back an ecstatic grin. "You just seem like the kind of guy to have some. I mean, you're really nice... and handsome. Thought someone woulda snatched you up like that." He snaps his fingers.

"Oh – well, thank you, Satoru," you laugh, pleasantly surprised. "But I travel far too much to make my own family. It would be cruel – not to mention difficult – to lie to someone about what I do, too."

"You want to marry a normie?" He frowns. "What's wrong with sorcerers?"

You laugh suddenly, a little flustered. "Ah, I don't know why I didn't think of that.... I suppose I could, but clans don't take well to people who don't come from one. Nothing is gained in those partnerships. Honestly, I wouldn't really want to marry into a clan – their drama sounds ridiculously tiring from everything you've told me."

"I wouldn't want you to, either. They have a way of sapping the joy out of life. Maybe they feed off it or something – it would explain why my clan elders look so much older and wrinklier than any old person I've seen on the street." He sighs, resting the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically. "Ugh, I'm really sad that you're leaving me so soon, sensei...! You're so dependable. Feels like I can trust you with anything."

You hum, patting his back sympathetically. His skin prickles with pleasant warmth under his t-shirt.  "Don't worry, I'll be back next year. Time will fly by in the blink of an eye. After that, you'll be a fully-fledged sorcerer, and we might run into each other more around the workplace! Doesn't that sound fun?"

Satoru grins, nodding. He shuffles closer, exploiting your hand on his shoulder to lean against your side, tucking himself in there as if it's home. Your hand shifts to his other shoulder in a more comfortable position, and giddiness bubbles in his chest – it's as if you're cuddling, he thinks gleefully.

"Yeah," he sighs contentedly, watching the golden sun dip below the treetops. "Crazy to think we'll be co-workers soon. Felt like it was just yesterday that I got detention for being late for my first ever class. Time flies, huh?"

"High school's hectic, even without all the jujutsu. It's not unusual to feel that way." Finishing off your drink, you let out a soft grunt as you stand up, dusting off your trousers. You offer Satoru a brief smile. "Now that I think about it... What do you think of heading to a restaurant tonight? My treat – it's Friday. It bothers me to see you kids get swamped with the same amount of work they give me – you deserve to have some fun, relax, make the most of your youth. Maybe we could try out some karaoke afterwards? I'm pretty good, in my humble opinion."

An off-campus dinner? With you? Satoru needs to do his laundry right fucking now. He also needs to break out the ironing board, and the leather shoe polish, and his favourite cologne. But did you have preferences? Did you like stronger scents or clean ones? Floral? Vanilla? Wood?

You're still looking at him.

To his great embarrassment, he has to consciously close his mouth, his jaw gone slack. He flushes red, stuttering – your eyes crinkle in amusement.

"Dinner? W-With you? Absolutely I'd want that, holy fuck! I-I mean—" He clears his throat. "Yes. That sounds great. Thanks, sensei."

"Anytime," you laugh as he tugs and twists his hair, just for something to do with his hands. He'd bury his face in them otherwise. "Do you mind letting the other Tokyo students know? I'll tell my kids as well. I wonder if I could rope Yaga into chaperoning, too... Nah. I can look after a handful of teens. You're all well-behaved – I think."

Satoru tries not to show the way he deflates. You're inviting everyone? Damn it. There go his dreams of being hand-fed canapés under golden lights in a private booth.

"Okay," he mumbles dejectedly, only to brighten immediately – like a light switch flicked on – when you pat his head fondly. He beams, cheeks dusted pink.

As you card your fingers through his hair, he melts into your touch, and you chuckle at the sight of him butting his head into your hand like an affectionate cat. "What a sweetheart. Tell you what, Satoru – why don't we eat dinner together in the school holidays? I can come down to Tokyo. If you like, no one else has to come. You can tell me what's on your mind and ask for advice, and I'll do my best to help. You won't have to clam up because of the company."

He stares up at you with large blue eyes. You think he's disappointed because he wanted private career counselling? While you couldn't be further from the truth, it does make his heart squeeze unreasonably tight. He's Gojo Satoru, the most powerful sorcerer alive, reputed as perfect and confidently assured in everything... Yet here you are, treating him like a normal high school student with fears and worries of his own. You want him to eat good food, get enough sleep, and do well in classes. Yes, he's strong, but you neither worship him nor coddle him.

With you, he's not the Six Eyes. Not the Limitless. He's just Satoru, loud and mischievous with an obsession for anything sweet.

You refuse to let him crumble to weight and pain like so many of your peers have. You watched them isolate themselves and wave off your concern with a scoff, just to be haunted by what they run from. Because they are protectors, they can't show vulnerability, lest others begin to doubt them.

"Really?" Satoru whispers, and as much as he wants to, he can't set aside the churning emotion in his chest for simple boyish excitement over an intimate dinner.

You care for him. You really, really care for him, seeing beyond the weapon that he is.

You nod, leaning against the pillar on the engawa with one hand in your pocket. "I think you'd benefit from it. My students tell me I fret like a mother hen, but I get the feeling that having a real, honest chat with someone would do you some good. Of course, if you don't care for that kind of talk, we can always just catch up. What do kids like these days? Movies? Super Mario?"

"I like Digimon," he says softly.

"Digimon? That's different from Pokémon, right?"

He nods, still wide-eyed. Suddenly, he throws himself at you, arms wrapping tightly around your middle. He buries his head in your chest.

You laugh, startled, but you rest your arms around his shoulders anyway. "Satoru? Everything okay?"

"'M just really gonna miss you, sensei," he sniffles, his voice thick with emotion. "Damn it, it's so not fair that Kyoto gets you every day! Those dummies don't deserve you."

"Don't be mean, Satoru," you chastise, patting his back gently. "I'm not vanishing off the face of the earth, you know. You'll see me again."

"Next year's way too long," he mutters, arms tightening around you. "Even Christmas is too far. But you promise you'll come down then, right? I'm staying on campus so I'll be free every single day." Just for you, he doesn't say. "Isn't like I'll have anything more important to do."

"Then I'll let your principal know a few weeks in advance and ask him to tell you the date. That alright?"

He pulls back and nods eagerly, his thousand-watt smile almost blinding. Date! You said date! Not in the way he wishes it was, but he'll be getting ready at the asscrack of dawn regardless. He's already thinking up outfit ideas and fretting about his 'needed-a-cut-a-month-ago' hair.

He feels like he's on cloud nine. Surely Suguru won't mind being kidnapped for an hour or three while he gushes about you like a lovesick idiot, right?

—

Ten years later, Satoru stands in front of a small, mossy shrine a few steps off the forest path. Below the mountain sits the beleaguered village, quiet at this time of night and heavy with superstitious fear. Apparently they're being haunted by a grade one curse, but if Satoru is being honest, he's having a hard time coaxing it out of hiding so he can validate those reports. It seems that it only comes out when it stands a chance against unarmed and frail old villagers.

With a long-suffering sigh, he kicks a tuft of grass and shoves his hands into his pockets, scrunching his nose up at the scent of someone cooking a really good soup, carried up the hill by the rustling wind.

"Ugh, I'm hungry," he whines to the open air, nearly stomping his foot during his tantrum. "Can you just come out, already? I'm going to die of starvation before you manage to do anything. Ughhh."

Suddenly, a hand pops over his shoulder, holding an unusual-looking talisman between two fingers. He glances at it, surprised.

"Burn it," you say simply. You smile, those oh-so familiar eyes of yours crinkling with mirth. "Hello, Satoru. Been a while, hasn't it?"

Satoru stares. Then, with an excited squeal, he launches himself into your arms, kicking his feet up behind him and putting his whole weight on you. You don't stumble or even have to shift your footing, simply wrapping one arm around his middle with a hum.

"Sensei!" he gasps, feet paddling in the air. "Oh my god, hi! Hello! I missed you so much, sensei, you don't even know!"

You chuckle, a soft rumble that reverberates through your chest and sends shivers up Satoru's spine. Your hair is dashed frosty silver through your temples, and the crow's feet around your eyes are deeper when you laugh – Satoru's heart races even faster.

You smell good, too, your cologne warm and inviting with notes of cedarwood. You've changed it in the last ten years; it used to be lighter – blue – and it's not so much a betrayal of his memory of you than it is a logical evolution. You're older now, calmer. Makes sense that your signature smell is less 'soda on the beach' and more 'coffee by the fireplace'.

He's getting ahead of himself. He never did manage to catch you in the workplace – you were needed wherever he was not, and those assignments rarely overlapped.

"Hey, kid," you greet, releasing your hold on your cursed energy. Once it's no longer suppressed, Satoru recognises you immediately, warm and constant like a good hug, and his grin grows wider as he giggles and tightens his arms around your shoulders. "You havin' trouble with this curse?"

"No," he denies immediately, trying to ignore how your voice is rougher now than when you were a teacher. There's a low, pleasant gravel to it – he assumes it isn't a permanent change. Probably just tiredness, given the plane ticket stub poking out of your pocket. London? Geez. He can sympathise with those long flight hours.

He continues, "It's just embarrassed 'cause it's so much weaker than me. Where'd you get the talisman?"

"Someone from the village gave it to me. Said it was how they began their prayers to ensure the gods were listening. Try it their way – rites like this usually contain pieces of truth."

The case file never mentioned local customs. It also advised staying away from the villagers because they were snappy and suspicious of outsiders and would impede a sorcerer's work – you appeared to ignore that paragraph completely. Getting difficult people to work with you seemed to be your specialty.

Reluctantly, Satoru puts his feet back on the ground, taking the offered paper talisman and inspecting it. It doesn't seem particularly interesting, certainly not like it could summon a cursed spirit, but he's seen much weirder things. Maybe all the weirdness has been like exposure therapy for him, because he doesn't even question the idea.

"Did the higher-ups send you?" he asks curiously as he snaps his fingers and lights the paper on fire. It burns efficiently, bright orange swallowing curled blackened edges until only a corner remains. Satoru lets go, and the flames consume the remnants of the fluttering talisman before it touches the ground.

"Mm. Apparently, you've been acting extra rebellious recently, which they don't think too highly of. I'm here to supervise and report back." You push one hand into the pocket of your casual clothes. Satoru feels a flicker of annoyance spark in his chest. Can't they let you at least go home to shower after a fourteen-hour flight?

"Oh, that! Ha-ha. Did you hear about Sukuna's vessel?"

Recognition flashes in your gaze. "Yes, actually. That's part of the reason why they requested my return so suddenly. They say you've delayed the kid's execution until he consumes every finger. Is that true?"

"Affirmative," he says, playfully saluting. "He's my student at the Tokyo campus. You can't have him."

"I wouldn't want him in Kyoto, anyway. Gakuganji would probably try to kill him in his sleep, and I'm no longer there to oppose him." You glance around when your skin prickles. The wind whispers through the dark branches, picking up speed. "Feel that?"

"Yup," he says, popping the 'p' as cursed energy gathers in the air. He grins, eyes sparkling under his blindfold. He loops his arm through yours and grabs your hand, trying not to giggle nervously at the feeling of your muscles beneath your shirt. You're so tall and broad... Your thigh's the size of his waist, he realises as you stand shoulder-to-shoulder. He blushes so hard he feels dizzy.

He stands up on his toes to whisper in your ear. "Can you kill it for me, sensei?" he pleads, a cute pout on his glossy lips. Of course he'd wear lipgloss to a rural countryside exorcism. "I'm scared."

You give him a look. "No, you're not."

He blows a raspberry. "I'm tired?"

"You're not."

"Senseiii," he whines, tugging your sleeve as the curse manifests from the shadowy undergrowth, too many eyes flicking and rolling white like a terrified horse. "Please kill it for me! It's so ugly I'm gonna cry. I really will! You don't want your favourite student to cry, do you?"

You can't help but smile as Satoru cowers behind your shoulder, peeking out behind your arm and giving a dramatic little yelp when the curse scuttles closer on long, spider-like legs. A dozen eyes blink open on the legs, all pivoting towards you.

"Ew! Ew ew ew, sensei, it's getting closer!"

"Alright, alright, you big baby. Stay here," you chuckle, patting his spiky white hair. He pouts up at you as you mess it up, whining miserably.

"Hey! I spent a long time on that!"

You drop his hand. He opens his mouth to bawl about it, but his words get stuck in his throat as you dash towards the bus-sized curse.

You're barely a blur as you fight, and Satoru doesn't flinch as an insectoid leg goes flying over his head and pierces a tree behind him, making its roots shudder in the earth. He waves his hands like he's at a concert, smoothly sidestepping a section of carapace as it sails past him like a frisbee. "Whoa! Go, sensei, go! Ten outta ten, what a thrilling performance!" He claps as he watches you exorcise the curse, pinning its writhing body under a boot and wrenching off its head with a grunt and a flex of your biceps. Your jacket sleeves are putting up a better fight than the curse.

You toss the head aside with a deep sigh and step away. You glance up, wiping purple blood off your cheek with a playful wink. "Who's your daddy?" you tease, beckoning him closer with a curl of your fingers.

His knees almost give out from under him.

Satoru's on you before the curse dissolves into nothingness – he wraps his arms around yours, propping his chin on the corner of your shoulder. "You are," he says dreamily, nearly tripping over himself as you begin to walk back down the hill side-by-side. "Ahh, you're so cool, sensei... You saved my life."

You toss your head back to laugh, and Satoru's blush darkens as he admires your features. He's never been gladder for the blindfold as his gaze trails down to your lips. "You don't have to call me that anymore, Satoru. We're co-workers now, aren't we?"

He swings your hand in his own, taking little skipping steps so he brushes against you more often. "It feels weird to call you by your first name, and last names are so formal... I like calling you sensei."

You hum. "Alright, if that's what you prefer. Oh – I nearly forgot. I've got some news for you."

"You got married?" he says immediately, devastated. He clamps your arm closer to his chest.

"No, Satoru," you laugh, "I'm still single. No, I'll be based in Tokyo until Sukuna is defeated. I'm residing on campus. That's my news. I guess you got your wish after all, hm?"

Silence. Then an ear-piercing wail.

"Senseiii...!" he cries. Without a moment's notice, Satoru jumps into your arms, wrapping his limbs around you and burying his face in your shoulder where your cologne is strongest. "Sensei, this is amazing! 'M never letting you leave ever again! Never ever, okay?"

Chuckling softly, you pause to set him down. You continue towards the car on the edge of the village together, with him skipping along as he grasps your sleeve. When you try to unravel your arms to reach for your keys, however, he makes a distressed noise, locking his limbs tighter around you.

He really is a big baby, you think fondly. Shifting Satoru to free up your side, you eventually get the passenger door open and slide him inside, guiding him down on the leather seat as gently as a princess. He beams up at you, happily belting himself in, and hunts down the AUX cord in the glove box as you close his door and round the car to the driver's side.

He blasts S&M by Rihanna and half a dozen Lady Gaga songs on the ride back to campus. You wonder if he's trying to tell you something.

—

Satoru has been having the time of his life. Not even the situation regarding Sukuna could bring him down – he skips through the halls like a character in a musical, smile widening and his demeanour shifting whenever he crosses your path. He never denies the opportunity to run up to you and ramble about anything and everything, even walking in a completely opposite direction to his goal just to linger a little longer by your side.

If he had any shame, it'd be horrifically pathetic behaviour. He's lucky you think it's sweet.

Late one night, Satoru is alone in his office cubby, systematically grading tests. The room is silent, not a single soul left, and all he can hear is the scratch of his pen and his own breathing.

A gentle knock resounds at the door. "Hey, Satoru."

He perks up at the sound of your voice, a smile automatically creeping across his face. He clicks his pen and twists in his office chair. "Oh! Hi, sensei. It's late, you know. What're you doing here?"

You lift a brow, entering the room. The door swings shut behind you. "I was about to ask you the same thing. You doing alright?"

He nods agreeably. "Yep, peachy. Just couldn't really sleep, and I thought getting a head start on my work would be more productive than four hours of phone time in bed. If I had any more than a handful of students, though, phone time sounds infinitely more manageable."

Humming, you step closer and reach out to place a white plastic bag on his desk. The ends are tied to make bunny ears. "Quite mature of you. I, uh, brought you some food – I didn't see you eat today, and while I know you could've just teleported elsewhere for lunch, I just couldn't shake the thought. You don't often buy proper meals when you're alone, either – it's always candy or sweet treats, things easily eaten on the go. Plus, I remember how much you liked yakisoba, so..."

You trail off your rambles, nudging the bag closer toward him. He continues to stare at you, lips parted, as you push your hands into your pockets and rock on your heels. Heat crawls up his neck.

"You noticed that?" he asks softly, tilting his head and sitting straighter in his chair.

"Of course I noticed – when you're the only one not eating, it makes you stand out a little. You can always keep the food for tomorrow, but I thought I'd just pop by. You have a lot on your plate and I wanted to make sure you're not burning yourself out."

How were you so perfect? In this cruel world where human lives are currency and children are taught to kill, how did you manage to retain such gentleness? Such... humanity?

It was easy to forget he was a person. People turned to him for reassurance and safety, turning him into something bigger than life: a protector, a saviour, a shield. Sometimes he fears he'll lose himself – his morals, his opinions on mundane things, everything that makes him human – and become something as scary as Tengen: alive for one purpose. Sequestered away until needed. Known only for what they can provide.

Alone until the end.

Satoru stands, placing his pen down, and wraps his arms around you. He doesn't jump on you, doesn't squeeze you until you wheeze – just a firm, gentle hug, every available inch of him pressed against you as if to lock you in place and keep you from leaving.

He sniffles. Silly Satoru. You'll never leave when he needs you.

"Hey?" You place your hands on his back, patting him. "Not getting sentimental over some street food, are we?"

"I am," he laughs wetly. He buries his face in your shoulder. "I'm crying over yakisoba. It's so stupid."

Even this is a little embarrassing for Satoru. He really had no walls at all around you – just pure unguarded openness.

Your arms close around him, stroking his shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous. A good meal is worth crying over."

He laughs again, airy and soft. He gives you one last squeeze before stepping back, his fingers dropping until they entwine shyly with your own. You glance down at them, but don't pull away.

"Can you stay with me, sensei? Just for a bit. I don't really wanna be alone right now," he murmurs.

You tilt your head at him, watching him closely. He swings your hands between your bodies idly.

"Alright," you agree, reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. You squeeze, offering a reassuring smile, and move past him to steal a neighbouring chair. You cruise your fingers over the bookshelf against the wall, picking out some academic text about the Tokyo region's topography at random. "I'll go before midnight, though, and I'm not leaving you here. Trust me when I say that overtime like this isn't a habit you want to make."

He nods, sitting back down and opening up the plastic bag. He peeks inside and lets out a satisfied sigh as he reaches in, rustling around for the disposable chopsticks and pulling out the clear plastic box, warm to the touch. "I won't. Thanks, sensei."

Cracking open the book, you settle into the chair. "Anytime, Satoru."

As promised, an hour later, you pull Satoru away from his desk. You place a hand on his back to keep him from running off, and he trots happily by your side as you lead him towards your car. He doesn't use one regularly on account of his abilities, generally finding them time-consuming and restricting. So many rules to obey.

For you, though, he'd suffer through anything.

He pulls you past the threshold of his apartment before you can protest; he shuts the door and leans back against it so you can't escape. He wears an unusually apprehensive expression.

"Sensei," he begins softly. "Can I ask you something?"

Your attention flicks down to his arms, folded around his middle. Self-soothing? "What is it, Satoru?"

Technically, he's just kidnapped you. Into his house. You don't seem particularly concerned despite the fact that he could spaghettify you in a blink.

He sighs, nibbling on his lower lip. He tugs his blindfold below his chin and ruffles his hair, stunning blue eyes flitting over your features with full clarity. His cheeks warm. "I think you know already that I really like you... as something other than a friend or co-worker."

"Oh. I do, yes."

Your lack of judgement bolsters his confidence. He straightens up, taking a deep breath. "So... if I were to, um, ask to kiss you... what would you do?"

Your eyes widen, and you pause to mull it over. He holds his breath. Then you offer a small shrug. "Why don't you find out?"

"Really? You mean it?" His heart somersaults when you nod. He barely refrains from jumping for joy. "C-Can I kiss you, YN-san?"

"Sure, Satoru." Your eyes are soft, obliging. "You may."

Like a little firework, he launches forward, lips crashing against yours. You catch him like always, but this time you place your hands on his waist in new, intimate ways.

It's happening. It's really happening. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, making you hum softly and raise your hand to rest in the small of his back.

When you part, Satoru wears the widest, giddiest smile you've ever seen on him. It beats the time when he demolished your entire second-year class during training – you were watching and even congratulated him on his improvements afterwards. He pants softly, glancing down at your lips hopefully.

"You kiss well," you say approvingly, and Satoru nearly melts on the spot. "Have you had much experience?"

"Just a couple times. None were as important as this." He flashes a nervous smile. "This is the first time where it matters what the other person thinks."

"Oh, please. You'll make me blush." You rest your palms low on his waist, massaging his hipbone. "Satoru, are you sure you want me?" you ask in a low, careful murmur. "I'm old enough to be your father."

"Please don't say that if you want me to stay away. It has the opposite effect."

You bark out a laugh and shake your head in disbelief. He grins in return. "You're something else, Satoru. Something else entirely."

He answers with another kiss. God, he remembers dreaming about this every night, wishing he could see you more than once a year. That innocent desire faded with time, but recently, upon your return, he's been plagued with reckless dreams of a bare-chested figure above him, pressing him into the sheets and making him take and take and take until he wakes in a hot rush, breaths sharp and laboured. He can never quite remember the face, but those strong, large hands cradling him are unmistakable. All he's left with are a needy ache and a name: daddy.

It's fucked up, Satoru thinks as he plays with your silver-dashed hair, well-maintained. He gasps as you push him back against the door with a quiet thud, moaning against your lips. It's so fucked up that he chases your authority even when you're equals.

There's probably quite a bit to unpack there, but what does it matter? You're kissing him, and you're letting him feel you up under your t-shirt. That's enough of a dopamine rush to tide him over for the next few weeks.

He can feel the strength rippling beneath his touch, your muscles flexing as he pushes your shirt higher to expose your stomach and chest, and he pulls away to admire them with a debauched moan. With a shaking hand, he reaches for your lower stomach. Your skin is warm – he traces your happy trail with awe, breath hitching when his fingers dip into your belt. Dazed, he cups your chest in one hand and plays with your happy trail in the other.

"Having fun?" you murmur, amused.

Satoru blinks himself out of his trance. He turns bright red. "S-Sorry! You're just so—" He gestures vaguely towards you. "Big..."

"Yeah?" Teasingly, you place his hand on the front of your jeans, making him whine softly at the implication. You kiss the spot below his ear. "Does that excite you?"

He nods so hard his head threatens to fall off. You laugh, crow's feet deepening, and Satoru nearly forgets his name.

"Cute," you comment, tucking his hair behind his ear as you brace a hand against the door by his head, a classic pose he's sure you're doing on purpose to make him yelp. "What do you want me to do to you tonight, Satoru? Remember, tomorrow's still a weekday. Can't have you limping everywhere."

Weekday? Who cares if it's a weekday? Satoru's not giving up this chance. "Want you to fuck me," he whispers, gulping as you nibble at the side of his neck. It tickles and pinches, and heat zips down his spine and pools between his legs. "Want it hard and rough."

"Didn't I say I don't want you limping tomorrow?" You lift a brow.

Satoru clutches the front of your shirt, whining as he presses his lips against yours to sweeten the deal. "I can heal it," he protests, though he knows he won't. Why break what you fix? "Please. I'll be good."

Your eyes flash, and his heart skips a beat. You liked that.

"That so?" you mutter, hand tightening on his hip. "You gonna be a good boy for me, Satoru?"

He swallows the whine that threatens to slip out. He bobs his head desperately. "Mhm, your good boy! I'll do whatever you want as long as you fuck me. Want you to make me yours."

"Mine," you repeat, playing with a lock of his snowy hair. Your eyes flicker to his. "Could you handle being mine? Just look at you – delicate little thing, already hard from a couple of kisses. Might end up breaking you if I'm not careful."

His fists twist in your shirt, knuckles white. He's already panting hard, deep pools of blue fixed on you. His hips shuffle against your thigh, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a choked whimper as you press roughly into him.

You tilt his chin up with your finger and rest your temple against his, your lips brushing his ear. "Cat got your tongue, baby?"

His hips jerk, his cock throbbing in his pants. He gnaws on his inner cheek, grinding roughly into your denim-clad thigh. The inside of his zipper digs into his shaft. "Hn – s-sorry... I can han-handle it. You can break me... i-if you want," he whispers. "As long as I can keep kissing you, I don't mind what you do to me."

He's going to be the death of you.

"Satoru." Your voice is gentler now. He blinks, straightening slightly. "Is this your first time?"

He squeaks, trying valiantly to push aside his lust to dig up the correct memory. "Ah, y-yeah... I never had time to go all the way with someone." He peers up at you from beneath snowy white lashes. "I like that you'll be my first, though. I want you to take control."

"You like giving in to me, do you?"

He bites his lower lip and nods, playing with your collar as he gazes up at you. "Mhm. Makes me feel good."

"Oh, I can do that."

Satoru grins and leans up to kiss you, hands resting on your biceps, and he lets out a soft moan as you tug his clothes off and toss them over the nearest barstool by the kitchen island. Soon he's down to just his socks; he'd tried something similar with you, but he'd gotten completely distracted when your shirt came off. He couldn't stop touching you long enough to shed your clothes.

He squirms against the back of his front door, gasping as you hike one of his legs over your hip. He flinches when your jeans rub against his bare, swollen cock, the rough material and cold steel zipper sending sparks up his spine.

You admire his cock, sweetly flushed and leaking. You take it into your hand and his heel digs into the back of your leg as you pump him, smearing his pre into the hollow of your fist and making the glide wetter and easier. You lean in and kiss him – his eyes flutter shut.

His back arches as you squeeze his length. He sucks in a sharp breath, moaning into your mouth. Scrambling, he reaches for your belt and fumbles it open. "Ah, fuckfuckfuck – your hand feels really good—"

You glance down at his throbbing, leaky cock in your palm, engulfed completely. If you close your fist, you can't see it at all. Satoru gulps, stomach flexing at the sight, and precome dribbles down his tip. He lifts his eyes pleadingly, tugging ineffectively at your belt with clammy hands.

"So needy," you say – not meanly, but Satoru's gut still clenches – and you use one hand to flick your belt buckle free. Immediately, he moves on to your zipper. "I've barely touched you."

"I just—" he stutters as he reaches into your jeans, gliding against the warm bulge that fills his palm. "Don't be mean, sensei."

You chuckle. "Alright, princess." You don't give him time to respond before you grasp his wrist, pulling it out of your pants. "Let's not have your first time in the hallway. Bedroom?"

You can't keep doing this to him! Talking about breaking him, calling him princess, then being all gentlemanly about his first time? He's going to die! Or come. He's not sure yet.

Satoru's head bobs in assent as he takes you by the hand, dragging you hastily through his apartment. It's smaller than you thought he'd go for, cosier – and it's not a penthouse, which also comes as a surprise, given his wealth. Eight floors up, he's far enough from the street to not be constantly assaulted by the sounds of traffic, but not so high that all he sees are clouds and flashing neon billboards.

As you step into his bedroom, you wonder if you're the first person he's allowed inside. He hastily shoves unfolded laundry into his closet and shuts the door before it can fall out, then pulls you down onto the bed, leaning up to kiss you.

"Do you have protection?" he asks, a little nervously. He's never said those words in his life, and saying them now makes it all the more real. "I mean, I could probably alter Infinity to act like it, but I've never tried that before so—"

With a grin, you pull a black square from your wallet. He sighs in relief.

"Oh, good, thank god. Yeah, what was I thinking, using Infinity as a condom? Ha-ha, that was embarrassing..."

You move closer, letting him tug at your jeans. "Innovation isn't weird, Satoru."

He pouts as he slides your pants down your thighs. "Don't call it innovation... 'S far too clean a word for what I wanted to do with it."

"Maybe it's my age talking, but you get shy over the smallest of things. Funny, for someone who acts so shameless with others. Didn't you beg one of your coworkers to take you out to dinner?"

His cock jerks. "Don't... Don't keep talking about your age. Please."

"Hm?" Your gaze rakes his slender body, and you take his jaw firmly in one hand, lifting his face so he can't avoid your eyes. His breathing stutters as he grasps your wrist, eyes wide. Your voice is low, a warning. "Did my boy just try telling me what to do?"

His mouth waters and he swallows harshly, gripping his own thigh so hard he leaves red crescents in his skin. "No. No, sir, I'm sorry."

His voice is breathy, easily dispersed in the cool bedroom air. You inspect him, checking for lies, but you find nothing that indicates he's only saying what you want to hear. Those big shiny eyes tell you that he truly is remorseful.

Satoru seems surprised when you let go of his jaw without punishment. He squeaks when you grab one ankle in each hand and tug his legs apart. Instinctively, he tries to pull his thighs together, only to moan when you yank them apart with more force.

Kneeling at the end of the bed, you pry his pale thighs open and examine him coolly. He whimpers and covers his face, already growing hot with embarrassment, and his pink hole twitches as it comes into contact with the air.

"What's this, princess?" Your thumb presses against his puffy rim, shiny with lube. His breath catches in his throat. "Did you plan on bringing someone home tonight? Tsk tsk, Satoru. I thought you liked me."

He mewls as your thumb threatens to slip inside. He shakes his head, burying himself in too many pillows. "No! No. I just – I t-touched myself a bit, okay? When I couldn't sleep. It didn't, um, w-work..."

"So you're a filthy little thing, then."

"No!" He sounds devastated. He sniffles behind his hands. "Nnh... Y-You're so mean, sir..."

"Oh, sweetheart." You sigh, feigning disappointment. "Did you even manage to come?"

He bites his lip and shakes his head meekly.

"Why? Fingers not long enough?" Teasingly, you entwine your hand with his, and he shudders as yours envelops his wholly. He's not small by any means, but fuck... He can't even speak.

"How about I give you something smaller to start with, then?" you hum lightly. "Give you a little taste-test?"

He whimpers. He clutches your arms and nods so intensely he makes himself dizzy. You smile and peck his nose.

You drag him towards you and flip him over with just your hands, making a soft cry spill from his lips at the show of strength. He gasps as you spread his ass with your palms and lean closer, your intentions made crystal clear. His insides clench as your tongue – hot, wet, and firm – begins to circle his rim.

"Oh," he gasps, hips jerking backwards onto your face. His arms tremble beneath him. "Oh, mmh – f-feels weird, feels really weird!"

"Just relax, sweetheart. When you get over the embarrassment and focus on the pleasure, you'll feel better. I promise."

He's glad you can't see his face. He mumbles, "I-It already feels good..."

"See? Already doing so well for me. Don't be nervous. I got you."

He moans as your tongue flicks against his hole lightly, tempting him to push his hips back to chase more. He caves to the desire, sighs and gasps escaping his lips as you spread his cheeks and bury your face in his ass.

Your stubble scratches pleasingly against his soft, sensitive inner thighs. It sends hot sparks up his spine and out to his limbs, making his toes curl and his fingers dig into the bedsheets. You press into him deeper and your tongue slips inside his rim.

His back arches. He lets out a sharp sob, fisting the sheets so hard they threaten to rip. He shoves his hips back, your writhing tongue reaching new depths and making his cock spurt. 

"Mmh, daddy!"

Immediately, he claps a hand over his mouth, horrified. He glances over his shoulder, but you're not glaring at him in disgust. In fact, you haven't pulled away at all, and the only reason he knows that you heard is because of the way you suddenly eat him out more fervently, hands pushing and pulling at his creamy thighs and ass until his legs are shaking. You groan into his skin, hungrier the more you devour him, and Satoru keens, burying his face into the sheets to hide the heat in it.

Heart pounding in his chest, his lips part, quivering with nerves as his voice comes out in a whisper. "'M gonna c-come, daddy..."

In response, he receives a low, raspy groan and a tongue that thrusts deeper inside him, licking the inner edge of his rim. It's joined soon by your thumb – he mewls as it slowly pushes in and pulls out, gently stretching him open.

The pleasure and the shame light a fire in his stomach, ecstasy hot, heavy, and sharp like a poker. His body feels uncharacteristically weak, disobeying his orders to hold steady – it's all he can do to stay propped up on his hands and knees, his hips twitching shyly to force your tongue deeper inside him.

You pull away and a sound of distress pierces the room, high and desperate. He burns red. It's far louder than he expected.

"Easy, princess," you chuckle, licking your lips and dragging your thumb over the corner of your mouth. His hole feels wet and tender, hypersensitive – there's a lingering tingle on his inner thighs where the scratch of your stubble had him clenching and shoving his ass into your face.

He shudders, lips jutted out in forlorn shame as the depravity of his own actions catches up to him. You're eating his ass. His dick is inches away from your face – the one he's imagined countless times kissing him all over and telling him how loved he is. It feels corrupting, taking his dreams and twisting them into icky fantasies about his dick in your mouth and his come on your broad chest.

He squeezes his eyes shut, panting harder as you press two fingers, then three, inside him to the first knuckle. No, Satoru, don't imagine coming on your face! Don't imagine your face buried below his cock!

Fuck. He's imagining it. His dick pulses in time with his heartbeat as his nails claw the sheets, a string of sobbed whines torn from his throat. He arches like a cat, hips chasing your mouth with trembling jerky movements, and comes like a truck, nearly screaming as your hand swiftly attaches to his cock and jerks him off. He shudders, eyes damp and blurry, as each movement, backwards or forwards, brings him to a new high. 

Finally, he collapses onto the bed, arms too weak to hold himself up. You pull away, kissing his twitching hole, and gently guide him to lie on his back, his long legs limp and spread apart. His flushed, pretty cock twitches against his pale stomach, a messy trail of come shiny all the way up to his chest. His lip quivers when you roll the condom over your length, his dick jerking to life and already weeping.

Huh. Youths these days have so much energy.

He sighs in pleasure as you settle between his legs and lean down to kiss him, making him taste himself on your tongue. He moans with reddened cheeks.

"Good boy, baby, you did so well for me," you murmur, and he shudders hard, gripping your shoulders. He glances down, swallowing the gathering saliva in his mouth. You're not wearing any pants. You catch him staring and you grin as you take yourself into one hand, stroking yourself and slapping your thick tip against his balls. He flinches, biting back a needy moan. "Want it, Satoru?"

"Please," he nearly weeps, reaching down and pulling his hardening cock and balls out of the way. They fit comfortably in his slender pianist's hand. He arches his back. "I want it, daddy. I want it so bad! F-Fuck me, please."

Then, he feels you press against his puffy entrance, big and thick and heavy. It twitches against him, and as it presses forward, his bravado absolutely shatters, a pitiful whine echoing off his bedroom walls.

"Wait! 'S'too big, it's never gonna fit," he sobs, pushing weakly against your shoulder. "It's too big, too much, oh, god..."

"I'm not even inside you yet," you say, a touch amused.

He takes a deep breath, his exhale shaky. He shifts on the bed. "Ah..." He gulps as he notices your cock resting against his stomach. "It really is big, daddy..."

"Yeah, baby. Think you can take it?"

He whines. "J-Just go slow, please...?"

"Mm, of course. Wanna hold hands?" Your voice is light, playful, as you offer one – he takes it, pouting slightly but appreciative. It's obvious how nervous he is.

You talk him through it, murmuring in his ear as you push in, making him gasp at the unfamiliarity. The stretch burns, but you take it slow enough that it doesn't hurt too much, and the tears that prick at his eyes are from pleasure rather than pain. His nails dig into your shoulders, his mouth perpetually open to pant and moan, and he's so tight you swear you can feel his heartbeat through his walls.

Squeezing your hand, his head falls back against the pillows, breathy moans puffing warmly on each exhale. You caress his soft thigh as you inch inside him, pausing and thrusting shallowly until his expression loses its edge. His hair sticks to his temples, dark silver with sweat.

Eventually, you pause deep inside him – so deep that with each breath, he can feel your dick shifting inside him. The idea makes him unreasonably needy. He's never going to feel as good with anyone else – not when his hole's perfectly shaped to fit your cock.

He reaches for your other hand, teary azure eyes glazed and glossy. Limp on the bed, he tenses every so often, desperately trying to stave off his high. What would you think of him if he came twice and you hadn't even come once?

"'S'it in...?" he slurs, eyelids fluttering. "Mmh, 'm so full..."

Your mouth twitches in a sympathetic smile. "Not quite, baby. Just a little more, okay? Can you do that?"

He lets out a choked whimper but nods, gripping your hands. You shift, leaning on your knuckles with his fingers entwined with yours, and ever-so-gently bury yourself inside him to the hilt with a soft plap.

Satoru's jaw drops as his eyes widen. Your hips are pressed against his ass, your balls hot and velvety against his skin – that's all of you inside him. This is how big your dick is. When he clamps down, he can feel you pulsing inside him, hot and hungry deep in his belly.

When he looks down, his mind goes fuzzy – there's a slight bump in his stomach that moves as you do. He sniffles and lets out a hiccuped sob as he presses down on it, the pressure setting his nerves alight with bliss. He raises his clouded eyes to yours, so full he can barely breathe, and comes with a silent scream, body seizing up and eyes rolling as thick ropes of white spurt onto his stomach and chest, dripping down the split of his chest and gathering in the dips of his heaving stomach.

He throws his head back against the bed. He lets out a belated cry, loud and ruined, as his hips jerk and his hole milks your cock with rippling waves, his walls slick and hot like oil.

He cries out when you begin to move, your shaft tugging his swollen rim with every thrust.

"Oh – fuck, fuck," he half-sobs, wrapping his shaking legs tighter around your waist. His breath catches in his throat as you tug him closer, holding his hips up to fuck into him at another angle – harder, faster, deeper. Your balls slap his ass. "Fuuuck...!"

You hiss, low grunts drowned out by Satoru's constant whiny moans. "Shit, boy, got a dirty mouth on you. This is what you wanted, isn't it? I told you I might break you. Have I got you hooked already?"

The speed and vigour with which he nods makes his head spin. He clutches your wrists on his waist, your callused warm palms firm on his ass, and feels so damn small as you fuck into him, jostling his body back and forth as if he weighs half of what he does.

"Yes, daddy," he mewls, body rolling in a clumsy attempt to match your pace. He gives up after a few tries, too busy drooling over your dick to spare the brain power for anything else. He's perfectly pliable, taking you like he was made for it. The outline of your cock shifts in his stomach. "Ah, mm – only w-want your cock, only ever wanted you, daddy! Awh, fuck, 'm gonna come again—!"

You grab his jaw and force him to look at you, making him cry out as you fold him further in half. His cock bounces above his stomach, painfully red and leaking fervently despite the ample mess already glazing his stomach.

"That right, Satoru? You never thought about picking up a boy your age with that pretty face of yours?" you ask softly, and he shudders at the use of his name. It feels far more intimate. 'Baby' makes his thoughts melt, but his name has an extra layer to it that sharpens the pleasure – he's got years' worth of memories where you call out to him, and hearing it now while you drill into his ass reminds him of how he used to feel about you.

"N-No," he whimpers, tongue darting out to wet his lips. His glossy eyes flit between your face and the bulge in his tummy. "W-Wanted a real man's cock t-to – hahh – pop my cherry." He giggles dreamily, his hands twisting the pillow under his head. "Nnh—! S-So fucking good, daddy," he slurs, voice thick with bliss. His eyes are half-lidded, the whites showing as you crush his swollen prostate, every drag making his thighs jolt. The sheer size of you means you're almost constantly pressing against it, and Satoru swears he can feel your dick in his damn brain.

You let him slump back to the sheets, picking up the pace. He huffs sharply as you hook his knees over your elbows. He can't tell if he's dizzy from a lack of air or from coming relentlessly. Regardless, he feels like he's floating, and he really wishes he'd chased you down at work so he could've gotten this treatment earlier. Years of missing out... he has to make up for it, doesn't he?

You can barely recognise Satoru. Usually so chatty and composed, he can no longer string together a single proper sentence without stuttering. And Satoru never stutters. You're probably not helping by knocking the wind out of him, but he looks so adorably helpless that you can't gather the strength to pity him. It isn't as if he can't handle it – he giggles between shouts and moans, locking his ankles behind your back to keep you from pulling out too far. Seems as if he enjoys being filled so completely.

"Oh, sweetheart – can't resist a cock like mine, huh? If only you could see yourself right now." You go to say more, but you cut yourself off, mulling over your words. You glance at his wardrobe's mirrored sliding doors, and an idea pops into your head. You grab him like a doll and pivot, making him gasp, and twist a fist in his hair, pinning his head to the side.

"Take a nice long look, sweetheart," you murmur as he babbles, eyes wide and wet as he watches your dick disappear into his hole over and over again. "Look how needy you are, taking all my cock like a champ – you sure you're a virgin? Couldn't've guessed an ass so greedy would've never tasted cock."

Satoru whimpers wetly, eyes trailing over his pale, flushed body, so slender under yours. Even your hand in his hair looks big compared to his head, your forearm thick and heavy. His dick weeps as it bounces against his stomach, and he can barely think, pounded into the mattress like a common whore. His lips are parted, one of his arms looped limply around your hand in his hair, and he lifts his trembling thigh against your shoulder to get a better glimpse of your thick cock sliding into him, every thrust making his ass ripple.

His moans grow louder, more desperate. He looks like such a slut! It's so embarrassing. He wants to close his eyes, look away, but you're watching him closely, making sure he takes it all in. He sniffles, whining, as you kiss his calf, his leg pinned high over your shoulder.

"Daddy," he gasps, voice pitching higher as his balls tighten and pleasure boils in his core. "Ohh, daddy, 'm coming! I love your dick so muh-much! Gonna come, gonna come, I c-can't hold it, fuck—!"

You pick him up only to shove him back into the bed, making him cry out in bliss as his tears wet the sheets. You hike his other leg onto your shoulder as well and he cries out as you fold him in half, slamming into his ass with relentless desire. He hiccups, eyes rolling back to show their whites as he comes hard, semi-clear fluid splattering his chest in long pulses.

You slap his thigh, making him warble out a drawled moan. "Eyes open," you order, and his lashes flutter as he forces his body to obey. "Watch yourself come."

He sobs as you fuck him harder, rougher, your pace losing its rhythm as you chase your high. He can barely keep his mirror's reflection in focus, and his gaze drifts from his body to yours – against your wishes, but he can't help it. Why would he look at himself when you're right there?

"Daddy," he whispers dreamily, voice high and soft and sweet as sugar. You growl as you thrust once, twice, and your high crashes over you as he tightens, walls rippling hungrily as he milks you, as if he can bypass the latex through willpower alone. He lets out a string of loud, sharp moans as he feels heat bloom inside him, your dick throbbing and twitching against his prostate and dragging out his own peak. Creamy warmth douses his stomach and drips down his sides.

Gently, you let go of him, bracing against the mattress as you lower his legs to the bed. They fall limply, his hole still clenching and hips still jerking, as you lean down and allow him to pull you into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, more panting than actual kissing. He moans as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, his whole body trembling as you lazily thrust into him, letting his mind catch up before you pull away completely.

"Still with me, baby?" you murmur, breath hot against his jaw. He giggles and nods, working his lower lip between his teeth, and sighs adoringly as you pull out of him with a hot, slick pop. He pouts, dazed and feeling all too empty all of a sudden. His hole throbs, stretched and gaped far wider than he's ever done by himself. It feels heavenly.

You toss the condom into the bin, moving to get up, but Satoru whines and curls himself around you, twisting you over and pinning you to the bed. He nuzzles into your shoulder, breathing in the sweet, musky scent of sex and body heat, and moans quietly, your bare cock pressed against his stomach. If he moves just right, he can grind against it, his dick twitching as his tip catches on the ridges and veins.

He swallows an unholy amount of saliva. Would you let him suck it next time?

Eventually, you let out a soft hum, your hands rubbing patterns into his waist. "Gotta clean up, Satoru."

"Don't wanna, daddy," he argues, words slurring as he holds you tighter. He buries his face in your shoulder, taking deep, slow breaths. "Jus' wanna... wanna stay here..."

And, just like that, he's snoring softly on top of you, out like a light with his limbs twisted with yours.

You chuckle, a low rumble in your chest, and gently shift his hips off to the side, letting you turn slightly to cradle him. "Really tired you out, hm?" At least he's no longer unable to sleep. You wonder if it'll become a regular thing to fix his insomnia – you can't promise you'll deny him if he ever asks for it again.

Your lips thin into a line as you lean back against the pillows. Oh, what's the harm? He deserves a little happiness in life, and if he finds that in you, then it'd be cruel to shake him off when you feel the same way.

Rather than standing up to collect your clothes, you tug the bedsheets over Satoru's waist and tuck his hair gently behind his ear. You slide an arm under your head and close your eyes, cradling him to your chest, and sink into a deep sleep to the soft sound of his breathing.

It drove you insane with desire. And if that wasn’t bad enough for you, Satoru’s best friend, who also happened to be a succubus and your other roommate—Suguru, decided that the white-haired succubus accidentally outing himself was his cue to start courting you. 

You didn’t even know that succubi courted. You supposed there was always a first for everything. 

Suguru was far from being openly vulgar like Satoru was, but just as indicative of his wants. And that happened to be you. With long black hair, dark wings and a sharp, swift tail of the same colour, he was eerily gorgeous. He took his sweet time courting you, laying blooming red peonies all over your bed that worked as aphrodisiacs, spending his weekends making you wine-flavoured chocolates in the shape of hearts, hoping to get you drunk and all to himself. You would also constantly find missing pieces of clothing from the underwear section of your wardrobe, the distinctive mouth-watering scent of an aroused succubus left behind in their stead. 

Satoru and Suguru were beautiful in a way that most things were—poisonous and addictive. You had told yourself that you wouldn’t get swayed by their honeyed façade and fall into their trap. You had told yourself, but. . . 

The last thing you expected to wake up to was a wet, searing mouth on your hard cock. 

You groaned, shuddering as mind-numbing pleasure wracked through your body in overwhelming waves, reaching out blindly to hold onto something before it consumed you—fingers digging into the sheets so hard you heard it rip. You couldn’t explain why or how it felt so good, the pleasure almost other-worldly—the sensation of an incredibly soft tongue licking up your length, dragging a trail of heat and drool on sensitive skin. The air smelt sweet, like roses and cherries, the sharp sting of arousal zipping up your spine as you took a deep whiff. 

“D-does it feel good, master?” a voice panted, whined, “am I doing good for you?” 

You looked down to find two teary, dilated blue eyes staring up at you, and two you knew very well. “Satoru,” you managed, fighting down a shiver as his hot breaths smothered your shaft with unbearable warmth. Everything felt fuzzy and smelt too sweet, like someone had sprayed intoxicating perfume in your bedroom a thousand times over. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

He gripped your cock tighter with a pout, like he was worried that you would take away his favourite toy. “I just… I just thought I could make you f-feel better. Some de-stressing after a hard day, y’know?” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against your spit-soaked length, raised tail quivering behind him, shyly curling forward to show off the heart-shaped end of it. 

You couldn’t help but look. Satoru was dressed in a satin white shrug shirt that fully exposed his plump chest while allowing his wings to stretch out prettily, and you followed the tempting curves of his toned torso down to where his womb tattoo was pulsing and glowing red, as though showing off that he was eager to be bred. He was wearing the sluttiest, tiniest pair of lingerie underwear that barely covered his ass, the cute bulge of his cock visible from the front, his weeping cockhead poking out, strapped to his stomach. His outfit gave you the perfect glimpse of his soft milky thighs, before the rest was obscured by cream lace stockings that hugged his legs perfectly, leaving you wanting more. 

Sweet Lord. If this wasn’t heaven, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what heaven would be like. 

The succubus trembled under your scrutinizing, squeezing his thighs together as though he wanted to hide the evidence of his arousal. “A-are you done looking?” he mumbled, glancing at you through his lashes. “Can I continue? Please, I’ve been so good and you know it.” You could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate even more when his gaze returned to your erect cock, a line of drool running down his chin as his throat bobbed, as though he were imagining what it would feel like to swallow your cum. 

“Hold on,” you breathed, carding your hand through his soft hair to gently stop him from getting closer to your crotch. “Does Suguru know about this?” 

Satoru’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his pout fading into something more. . . wary. “No,” he said, quietly. “He doesn’t.” 

“I’d thought so. Suguru wouldn’t—” 

“Stop talking about Suguru,” he whined, like he was actually hurt over this. “Suguru’s not about to suck your cock.” 

You frowned. And what gave him the right to sneak into your room and do blasphemous things to your body while you were sleeping, then? You tightened your grip on his hair, just enough to make him let out a low, pitiful whimper. “And you’re going to be the one to do it, then, Satoru?” 

His eyes widened like a guilty child. 

“I’m impressed,” you scorned, “You actually think you deserve it.” 

Satoru bit his lip, as though he was turned on by your sudden change in behaviour. “I… Master, please. I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been asking for it for ages, I just couldn’t wait anymore—I needed you so bad. Please let me make it up to you. Please, please,” he stammered, hands grasping your knees and thighs in almost desperation while looking up at you with a forlorn expression. 

You looked at him, steering your expression into something like a leer. 

“You want to make it up to me? Is that so?” You pretended to think, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp, and he moaned softly, leaning into your touch. “Fine. Get on the bed.” 

The succubus clambered onto the bed clumsily, settling on all fours as he looked at you over his shoulder with a deep flush, tail quivering with arousal. “L-like this?” 

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you muttered, hands coming to rest on each of his asscheeks, kneading the flesh softly. Satoru whined, back pressing into an arch as he pushed his rump towards you, eager to please. “So, tell me, Satoru. I’m curious. What makes. . . a good slut?” 

“S-someone who listens to orders,” he replied, obediently. 

“That’s correct.” You whistled, hooking two fingers over the waistband of his underwear, slowly sliding it down to his knees until you completely exposed his leaking cock and hole, the latter clenching and dripping with… slick, like a pussy would. You went back to playing with his ass, ignoring it for the time being. “And does a good slut ever talk back to their master?” 

“No,” he whimpered. 

“What about,” you began, stroking his sensitive inner thighs, “taking what they want without permission?” 

“No,” he repeated, biting back a whine as a slow sense of dread filled him. “That’s what… that’s what n-naughty sluts do.” The words sounded strangely obscene in his mouth, and he flushed, ears turning red. 

“Very good,” you praised. “Last question, Satoru. You’ve answered every question perfectly so far—this one will be easy.” You flashed him a vicious smile, taking great pleasure in his ordeal. “Do you think naughty sluts deserve to be punished?” 

The succubus shivered in both fear and anticipation, swallowing harshly. “Y-yes,” he whispered. “They do.” 

Satoru didn’t even have time to beg for mercy because your hand fell hard on his ass, the force of it sending a loud smack echoing across the room, making him jerk forward with a pleasured cry. 

The pain was electric, and so was the pleasure, a white-hot burn curling in his lower stomach as his cock gave a violent lurch—Satoru doesn’t think he has ever felt pleasure this good before in all his years of being a sex demon. You were a hard hitter too. The skin on his ass stung pleasantly, and he moaned out loud at the thought of you slapping his ass again and again until your handprint was burnt into his flesh, wanting more already. 

“You really are a slut,” you whispered, almost in awe. 

“Please,” he whined. He would take anything you were going to give him—praise or punishment. He was yours. 

You gently massaged the bruised area on his ass, leaning down to give it a tender kiss. “Turn around for me, baby.” You opted for a softer tone, trying to coax him into letting you see his face after the harsh treatment. You couldn’t believe you ever thought that he was the danger here. Things were turning out in the most perfect way, you would believe it was a dream if not for how solid Satoru felt under your touch. 

Satoru parted his lips, as though he wanted to argue—but quickly remembered your words. The pain was good, incredibly good, but it was also fleeting. If this was his first and last chance with you, then he would make the pleasure last. 

He flipped over on his back, removing his underwear and quietly spreading his shaky legs for you. His cock gave a weak twitch as your gaze swept across his body with interest, letting a low whine. 

“Good boy, Satoru,” you muttered, eyes zeroing in on the heart-shaped swirls of his pulsing womb tattoo. Admittedly, you had looked it up on the internet and found out all sorts of things about succubi, terms that ranged from ‘breeding’ and ‘fertility’ to ‘cum-addiction’, and you couldn’t wait to experiment them on him. “Gonna open you up now.” 

You rubbed your fingers against his soft and wet entrance, slathering them in his slick, before starting to push two in, just to be mean. The succubus was already panting, mindlessly arching his back and pushing against your fingers. “Hah… Master… please, more…” 

“More what? Tell me what you want, Satoru.” 

Satoru let out a lewd cry as you rubbed at his sensitive walls, hips jerking. “P-Please!” he squeaked. “Want your cum… inside my womb.” 

You could feel a sadistic smile pulling at your lips. So this was his true objective. To be bred like a cockslut—no, an animal. An animal bound by divine instruction to reproduce again and again and again, brainlessly offering up its holes to be filled with semen until its belly swells with the early stages of pregnancy. Perhaps the rumours about succubi on the internet were true, after all. 

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted so easily, though. You weren’t that nice—he hasn’t earned it yet. 

“Greedy,” you settled for a simple comment, leer morphing into something more innocent. You made sure to crook your fingers at a certain angle while pumping them in and out of his drooling hole, searching for the spot that made his toes curl and back arch, a filthy wail forcing his lips to part. “You sure you can handle that, baby?” 

“Y-yeah,” Satoru moaned, “Breed me… please. Wanna carry master’s children.” 

His womb tattoo glowed brighter, scorching hot underneath your touch. Satoru looked fucked out already and the night was still young, lidded eyes unfocused and glassy while he continued to grind down against your fingers, as though searching for something wider, thicker, deeper. 

“Slut,” you snarled, and the word was barely fitting for how the succubus was acting. You pulled your fingers out, the emptiness making him ache. He gave a loud whine, his hips giving a desperate buck into the empty air, neglected cock red and hard, smearing pre-cum all over his womb tattoo. 

“‘m your good slut,” he babbled, slurred for how drunk and stupid he sounded. You were sure anyone standing outside your bedroom would hear him with how loud he was being. 

His mouth felt empty, you decided. A little too empty. You hooked a thumb into the stretchy side of his mouth before rubbing your fingers on his bottom lip, and he gave a soft keen, parting his lips for you to slide them inside, before lightly sucking on them—tasting his own juices. 

“If you keep this up,” you warned, “Suguru will hear. You don’t want him hearing me making you scream, do you, Satoru? Or are you more of a pervert than I thought?” 

“No,” he said, muffled by your fingers stuffing his mouth full, tears dribbling down his cheeks. 

“Good sluts don’t talk with their mouth full,” you reminded him, gently brushing away his tears. 

He shook his head quickly, whining. Satoru didn’t like to share, and you knew that. You were his bond, his human. You didn’t need another succubus. Right? 

You bit down a smile at his blatant jealousy, pretending not to notice the presence right outside your room, the rustle of fabric unmistakable—barely covered by Satoru’s loud whimpers. It was a little too early to reveal it, with how both of them were enjoying themselves. You would indulge them a little longer. 

You coated your fingers with his spit generously before pulling them out, a string of drool connecting the two, before reaching down and unceremoniously plugging them back into his needy hole. Satoru yelped, trying to snap his thighs shut at the sudden intrusion, and you took the opportunity to guide them to wrap around your waist. He flushed, stammering out an apology, but you wouldn’t miss this chance to tease him. 

“Look at you, Satoru.” You continued to scissor him, occasionally pulling out to slather your cock with his sweet-smelling slick. “I haven’t even put it in yet, and here you are, drooling like we’ve been at it all night. Messy cockslut.” 

“Your cockslut,” he whimpered, and it sharpened into a keen when you slowly drove forward to dip the head of your cock in his hole. It clenched around you greedily, and it felt incredible even with only the tip in, soft and wet and hungry, warmth oozing into you, making you burn with desire. What was even more incredible was the fact that Satoru was crying, tears spilling over red, flushed cheeks as he struggled to stay still for you, wanting to please, wanting forgiveness. “Hnngh… master…” 

He was right. Satoru was your cockslut. 

You leaned down to caress his wet cheek, the action only causing your cock to nudge deeper inside, the warm tightness nearly sending you into overdrive—making you moan. You had never been inside a hole this heavenly before. The snug stretch around your girth was insane, and if that wasn’t enough, his hole kept on fluttering and clenching around you, making delicious sensations bleed into you. 

So the myths were true, after all—succubi were demons crafted for the sake of providing pleasure. 

Your vision was growing hazy with lust, the heat in your belly growing. The pleasure was almost too much—but you held on. You would drain him before he drained you. 

Grabbing him by the thick of his hips, you buried yourself to the hilt in one go, and Satoru let out a wrecked cry, fingers bunching up the sheets at the sudden stimulation. His womb tattoo sizzled and pulsed obscenely, and you reached down to gently press your palm against it, making him whimper loudly. 

You didn’t know if you would be able to hold it in for much longer—with how the poor thing was squirming on your cock, sweet slick coating your cock with every thrust in and drive out, the carnal smell of it all making your appetite grow tenfold, making you want to strip him of all dignity and devour. 

“Satoru,” you murmured, thrusting forward, and he answered with a keening wail of your name. “It seems like… we have a rather eager spectator. Should we invite him inside?” 

“Wh-what…” Satoru said dumbly, whines interrupting his words as his eyes struggled to focus. “Spectator…?” 

“Yeah.” You grinned as he realised who you were talking about, stiffening and shaking his head with a cry. He wanted to have you all to himself for a little longer… you haven’t even cum inside him yet. This wasn’t fair. “Let’s see if he’s just as much of a cock-hungry slut as you are, mm?” 

You turned your head to the door. “Suguru. Come in.” 

The door hesitantly creaked open, and Suguru stepped inside. Immediately, the sweetness of aroused succubi intensified in the room, a clash between Satoru’s sugary scent and Suguru’s honeyed one making you dizzy with want. 

“Master,” Suguru swallowed, a red flush on his cheeks. He was dressed in a revealing dark purple night-robe, a ravishing complement to the long, black hair that cascaded down his shoulders. He looked at the two of you calmly, but you didn’t fail to notice the shine between his thighs, giving away how bothered he really was. “How long have you known?” 

“Quite a while. Get on the bed and prepare yourself,” you ordered, turning back to the other succubus who was currently grinding himself senseless on your cock, little whines and pleas plucked out with each desperate roll of his hips. “I’ll deal with you after I’m done with Satoru.” 

Suguru listened obediently, laying down on the bed on his back, night robe gracefully falling open to reveal his purple womb tattoo, already throbbing and glowing with heat and need. He reached down between his parted thighs, rubbing and pleasuring his hole while watching the two of you, soaking the mattress with how much slick he was producing. 

You turned back to Satoru, the sight of his red, crying face sending a jolt of heat straight into your abdomen. “What?” You grinned, gripping his waist and starting to thrust into his tight heat again. “I did warn you.” 

“S-so mean,” he sobbed, arching his back at the pleasure. He was whimpering again, warm walls hugging your length firmly every time you drove in, and you could tell he was getting close again, had been close before you had so cruelly stopped to indulge someone else. Satoru turned his head to look at the other succubus, their simultaneous pants and whines serving to make each other even more aroused, Satoru’s slick drenching your cock while Suguru’s messily dribbled all over his hand, obscene squelching noises like heavenly music to your ears. 

“Gonna cum,” you announced, and both of them answered you with needy, high-pitched whines, Suguru fingering himself to your thrusts while Satoru laid there, moaning and sobbing, reduced to nothing but a pliable body made to take and take and take. 

The latter blinked up at you with glossy eyes, tears dotting on his lashes and crying out lewdly while you continued to pound into him like a rabid animal. Satoru loved it, how rough and careless you were treating him, your gentle hands telling a different story as they caressed his face, the contrast of pain and pleasure making him shiver. No one had been able to satisfy him like this before. You were perfect for him. 

“Please… your cum…” he pleaded, laying a hand on his pulsating womb tattoo, begging for you to fulfil his only purpose in life—to be filled and bred like the dumb slut he was. “I w-want it inside…” 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, his warm hole sucking you deeper in with every flutter, every clench, showering you in waves of stimulation to the point where it teetered between pleasure and pain. Just when stars began to float across your vision in hazy swirls, a sign that you were close to orgasm, you pulled out hastily, ignoring Satoru’s desperate, keening sob, yanking Suguru towards you by the hips before roughly plunging your cock into his needy hole. 

The startled moan that you pulled out from the other succubus was enough to drive you to the peak of your arousal, and you thrust a few more times before spilling into warm wetness with a loud, guttural groan. 

When you came to be, there were two kinds of noises rebounding in the room—Satoru’s cries and Suguru’s whines. 

“Master!” Satoru sobbed, bucking his hips into empty air as tears messily dripped down his face. 

“M-master,” Suguru whimpered, drooling and panting, stuffed so full of cum and cock he could barely speak. 

You moaned as you drew out from Suguru’s heat, watching as cum dribbled out from his puffy hole and onto the soaked mattress—and he let out a soft, needy whine, plugging two fingers inside himself to stop anything more from leaking out, as though to replace the fullness that he had felt before. You watched as he lay there shivering weakly, glowing womb tattoo tainted with streaks of white, and you realised that he had come just from you releasing inside him. 

You swallowed, feeling your cock fill out again. Suguru really was a good slut. Perfect, even. 

“Master…!” Satoru cried out again, gaze lingering on you and Suguru with an expression that could only be described as heartbroken, and you would feel sorry for him, if not for you catching sight of the softening cock resting against his heaving abdomen. The perverted thing had orgasmed from watching you cum inside someone else. If that wasn’t a sight. 

“I never promised you anything, Satoru.” You looked down at the mess you had created, smiling innocently. “Plus, Suguru’s a far better slut than you are, don’t you think? After all, he waited patiently for his turn to be bred, unlike you.” You slumped down onto the bed with a heavy sigh, turning to Suguru and patting your lap. “Sit on my cock, baby.” 

Suguru rubbed at his eyes, compliantly trudging over and straddling your waist, the length of your cock rubbing lewdly between his cheeks. He bit his lip, raising his hips until the tip of it nudged against his sore hole, the growing stretch more pleasurable than anything. Your cum turned out to be the perfect lubricant, and the intrusion was met with little resistance, allowing him to slowly sink down with a hungry whine. 

“F-feels so goood,” he slurred, his eyes rolling back as you bottomed out, making the both of you moan. He mindlessly rubbed at his stomach, right above his womb, where you had gifted him a baby. 

“See?” You looked at Satoru lazily, the poor thing watching in a mixture of arousal and frustration. “Suguru’s been so good for me. What have you done?” 

Satoru wanted to cry again at your demeaning tone. This was too much. You were being so mean to him, when he was trying his best to atone for his wrongdoings! He didn’t deserve this treatment, not one bit. If Suguru gets a baby, then he should get one, too. 

“I’m s-sorry,” he snivelled weakly. “Please, master… I promise I won’t ever misbehave again. I’ll be a good slut… I’ll do anything you want.” 

You smiled. “Anything I want?” 

He nodded, desperate. 

“Sit on my face and I’ll think about it.” 

Satoru wanted to protest, yank Suguru off your cock and ride it himself until you spurted heavy into his womb, showing you that he could please you just as much as the other succubus did, maybe even more. You were his, and naturally, your pleasure belonged to him as well. Suguru might be his best friend, but that didn’t mean Satoru liked to share his toys with him. But. . . if this was his last shot at gaining your forgiveness, then he would do whatever it takes to please you, even if it meant suppressing his needs for the time being. 

He scrambled over to where you were lying, carefully placing one knee on each side of your face, trembling with effort as he slowly lowered himself onto your face. He let out a soft, whiny keen as his position pressed his hole directly against your parted lips, and he struggled not to rut against your face—holding himself back from chasing after the addictive pleasure. 

You gently lifted him by the hips to breathe, before pressing a light kiss to the twitching hole. Licking around Satoru’s swollen rim in an attempt to loosen him up, you rolled your hips up into the welcoming warmth of the other succubus, jolting out an erotic moan. 

“You can start riding me, Suguru,” you muttered, closing your eyes and letting out a drawn-out moan as he gave a filthy clench around your length at the mention of his name. “Don’t hold back.” 

“Yes, master,” Suguru whined, rolling his hips against yours in smooth, circular motions, and you could feel the slick leaking out from his hole, smothering your length with the abundance of it, sweet and sleek and thick. The succubus rode you like he was made to do it, his cock slapping against his womb tattoo messily with every bounce, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure—letting out a stream of whimpers and pleas while his hole fluttered around you tirelessly, trying to get you to cum inside him a second time. 

You returned to your task at hand—giving a broad lick over Satoru’s dripping hole to gather some of his slick on your tongue, making him sob out a whine. It was sweet and intoxicating, addictive flavour melting in your mouth like sugar, and you couldn’t get enough—shoving your entire tongue into him before eating him out in earnest. 

And sweet lord, did he taste good. He was squeezing around you deliciously, releasing so much slick that it dripped all over your chin and down the column of your throat, making a mess. It drove you crazy. Before you knew it, you were making animalistic noises against his swollen entrance as you made love to it with your tongue, the vibrations making him croon with pleasure. And by now, you were sure that succubi slick had aphrodisiac effects, because with every mouthful that you swallowed, you found it harder and harder to control yourself, wanting to just give in to your arousal and take. 

“Please,” Satoru was sobbing loudly, feeling wet and loose and dirty, thighs trembling with little restraint as you lifted him up and down your tongue with ease, reaching so deep one would think you were trying to plunder his soul. “Gonna… gonna cum already…” 

“M-me too,” Suguru chimed in with a moan, hips growing wearier with every lift, his impending orgasm making him weak, the fullness of cock giving him the illusion of heaviness, and he held his belly as though he were pregnant already. 

You continued to pleasure the both of them the best you could, tongue curling inside Satoru with precision to press against his sweet spot until he was shaking and whimpering with overstimulation—while rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s, feeling him needily clench around you every time you rammed up just right. 

You could feel yourself getting closer as well, the noises that your two obscene lovers were making serving to turn you on even more. Combined with the sinful pressure of Satoru’s sopping hole clenching around your tongue and the searing tightness of Suguru jumping on your cock, this was practically heaven. 

Reaching over to grip Suguru’s hips, you thrust up repeatedly into his tight warmth, leaving the other to ride your tongue on his own. You groaned your pleasure into Satoru’s hole, and the succubus answered with a keening cry of “Master!”, grinding down against your face with wild abandon. Both of their womb tattoos were glowing brighter than ever, screaming at you to breed them, take them, devour them—and you did just that. 

You rammed your hips up with a muffled shout, gripping Suguru’s waist so tightly you were sure it would leave dark bruises for days to come—unloading everything into his womb for the second time tonight—your seed, your love, your legacy. Suguru cried out loudly at the feeling of your cum filling him up, shuddering as his cock squirted all over the three of you—his stomach, your chest, Satoru’s back—while Satoru clenched around your tongue so tightly as his orgasm crashed over him like a hurricane, cumming all over your face and the mattress with a hoarse scream. 

You gasped for breath the moment Satoru slid off your face and collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily, black spots swirling heavily in your vision—the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Succubi—no, your succubi really were something. 

Suguru was too tired to even protest as your softening cock slid out from his sheath, dragging out a trail of slick and cum. Yawning, he shifted to lay on the bed on his stomach, mumbling “Thank you, master,” before his eyes drooped shut in exhaustion. You watched him fondly, reaching out to card a hand through his silky hair, before a soft, almost petulant whine caught your attention. 

Satoru was glaring at the other succubus with jealousy. Sure, he had gotten a mind-blowing orgasm out of it, but he wanted you filling him up until he felt bloated with your cum, wanted to be bred. 

You let out an amused laugh. “You want my cum that bad?” 

He nodded his head frantically. 

“Well, then…” You turned to where Suguru had fallen asleep, cum trickling out of his asshole and sliding down his perineum steadily. You guess it would be somewhat of a waste to just leave him be. “Since Suguru took your share for the night. . . there you go. Have a taste.” 

Satoru’s face was slightly pale when you turned back to look at him, a sick grin stretching at your lips. He didn’t question you, however, quietly crawling over until he was kneeling between Suguru’s legs. His heart was pounding, your words earlier that night replaying in his head again and again like mantra—a good slut listens to orders. 

Making eye contact with you, he poked his tongue out, slowly leaning down before giving the excess cum a tentative lick. . . and swallowed. 

You were sure those were hearts exploding in his eyes. 

“‘m talking ‘bout a baby, satoru, not some toy…” you huffed disapprovingly, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive underside of his jaw, to which he let out a shrilly gasp at. “a baby right here.” you gave his tummy a little prod, and he whimpered, his walls pulsating around you at the mere thought of you planting a seed right there… a dirty little secret buried deep inside him, where no one would know but the two of you. “that’s what i want. do you understand me, ‘toru?” 

“i knoow what you’re talkin’ about,” satoru slurred sousedly, pupils dilated as proof of his intense arousal. he palmed his pudgy tummy with one hand, mimicking your earlier actions, before glaring up at you. “‘m not stupid, i’m the best. ‘said i want a baby, so gimme one, ‘kay? your baby.” 

“i heard it takes a lot of hard work to make one, though,” you carefully repeated his own words, a sly grin slowly etching itself onto your face. he mumbled something under his breath that sounded awfully like ‘meanie’ before it sharpened into a whine as you pressed harder into the curved cusp of his hips, the fullness making it almost hard to breathe. “hours and hours of labour and hard work non-stop, in fact.” you huffed out a soft laugh, “well, it’s me doing the hard work anyway, but you won’t get to rest at all. you sure you can handle that, baby? might as well keep you on my cock all night long if you’re up for it…” 

he nodded enthusiastically, treating this like a challenge as he always would. satoru was the best. the best omega in all of the clans: tight sopping hole, negligible gag reflex, and a fertile womb that was always, always ready for breeding. and if you wanted a child, he was going to be the best child-bearer in the world. 

“put a baby in me,” he told you, firmly. “and don’t you dare stop until you do.” 

and that was all you needed to snap. 

like a man possessed, you snarled a quick curse into his neck, nipping at the mating bite you had embedded there on the side with stark affection before getting to work. two sweaty palms found their way onto the thick of his hips, gripping and squeezing, roughly yanking him back to meet every violent nudge of your bulbous cockhead against his prostate gland, now throbbing sweetly and starting to swell. 

satoru sobbed out your name loudly in querulous, broken syllables, thrashing wildly under your grip, but you didn’t let go—never would, only held on as your omega clutched on to your shoulders equally as tight. you would fulfil your promise, make him yours in every sense of the word. you would impregnate him. 

“gonna make you a mommy,” you heaved out, pressing down onto his softened tummy. you wanted to make him feel you inside, thick and hefty and pulsing with life, and he wailed out, the pressure on his slightly distended stomach increasing tenfold with one single push of your hot palm. “gonna make you full and round n’ swollen with me. is that what you want, ‘toru? to get knocked up like a good cumslut?” 

“yes,” satoru snivelled, tears dotting on his lashes as he whined pitifully at you. “a-alpha. ‘m your good cumslut omega. please...” he didn’t know what he was pleading for, he didn’t care, as long as at the end of the day, he would be stuffed to the brim with cum and seed with your knot plugging him up, a baby slowly starting to grow inside his womb as he dozes off to sweet, sweet dreams. 

“shit,” you growled, stiff grip pressing bruises onto flawless skin while you plowed into his soppy cave, making him keen at the rough treatment. all of this was making you dizzy with desire. you couldn’t wait to see his pretty tummy grow round with the baby you put in him. “wanna knock you up so bad, baby,” you whined into his ear, “you have no idea. gonna make you mine, ruin you for anyone else…” 

satoru sobbed out a moan, the sheer intensity of your words making his hole drool with want and anticipation, gummy walls squeezing around you with an obscene squelch. all he could feel was himself getting wetter and wetter, wetter and wetter… drenching the mattress with how much slick he was producing, the viscous substance practically pouring out of his birthing cavern like a waterslide. 

he had never been so fucking aroused in his life. the idea of his body slowly growing plump and heavy with your child, all fat and waddling around in his pregnancy, hands poised underneath his huge stomach to support it… 

you probably wouldn’t let him walk around much after pumping a baby into him, would you? you would probably strap him to the bed, keeping him pregnant and barefoot on your cock for the rest of the days to come. the strongest sorcerer in the world, reduced to nothing but a cumdump and a child-bearer. 

fuck, he was going to cum so hard. 

“gonna cum soon, baby,” you panted. “gonna cum in your pretty womb and you’ll take it, ‘kay?” 

satoru shuddered, crying out as he felt you grow bigger, your knot thickening at the base, making his rim stretch impossibly wider. “p-please. want it inside,” he weeped, desperate tears dribbling down his rosy cheeks in salty globs, to which you lapped up eagerly. “want your baby so much…” 

you gripped onto his hips harder, pressing them securely into the cushiony mattress while you pounded into the cramped space in his sloppy hole, making him yell out a filthy scream of your name, jackknifing off the bed and cumming all over his filled tummy in several, messy spurts. 

“yeah. and ‘m gonna do exactly that, princess,” you panted, sloppily kissing his neck while continuing to plow at his taut, tumid hole, still greedily fluttering around you despite the mind-blowing orgasm, wanting to be bred. “gonna put a baby- in you. get this tummy nice n’ round for -me, yeah?” 

“please,” satoru sobbed brokenly. he swore he couldn’t take it anymore if you didn’t cum inside him in the next minute. he was going to lose his fucking mind. “get me pregnant already!” 

at his warbled consent, you couldn’t hold back a primal snarl of ‘omega’ into his ear before sending a harsh, well-aimed thrust against his tumefied sweet spot, the beefy tip crushing itself against the throbbing, overstimulated gland, causing a loud wail to ring from your pretty mate. with a loud, guttural grunt, you forced your knot deeper inside his puffy rim, seizing and trembling before filling him up with thick ropes of warm cum. 

satoru gawped at you with watery eyes, keening and trembling with exhaustion as your knot settled deep and safely into his womb, stuffing him full of baby batter. you really had went and knocked him up now… and from the way you kept on crooning, greedy hands kneading his now swollen stomach with a terrible insistence, you definitely weren’t planning on stopping after one. 

FUSHIGURO TOJI

“you wanna what,” toji snarled, breath coming out in soft, frisky puffs as you carefully folded the omega in his favourite position—the full nelson. “‘m not in the mood for your ngh, fuckin’ jokes.” 

“i’m not playing with you,” you grit out, panting harshly into the valley of his neck and shoulder, licking a hot stripe from his dewy scent gland to the sensitive back of his ear, earning you a shiver. you mustered a low grunt as your cock slotted into his tight hole with a sloppy shlick, his walls instinctively closing in on you, keeping you safely tucked inside. “i want another baby, toji. wanna, heh, get you pregnant.” 

“y’er actually serious.” toji gave a nonchalant wriggle, getting you to loosen your grip on him, before sharply rolling his hips down to fully settle onto your lap—the sticky back of his rear now flattened against your straining quads, groaning as your thick cock slid in deeper into his soaked cavern. “fuuck. that’s more like it. fuck the stomach—think i can feel your dumb cock all the way in my throat.” 

the both of you panted wordlessly as you let his puffy rim get used to the heavy stretch, pleasured hums slipping from him as you smothered his neck and shoulders with red and purple love bites, tenderly licking over the teethmarks you had put on the side of his neck the first time you had consummated. 

“y’said you want another baby? get me pregnant? that it, stupid alpha?” toji muttered, giving you an impassive side-glance, but you knew he was excited from the idea with how much slick was leaking, no, pouring out from around your shaft, drenching your cock with his arousal. “bet you just like, ah- the thought of seein’ me all round and useless. bein’ an absolute slut for your,” he bit back a whine as you thrusted up into his sopping hole, “c-cock. ah, your big, fuckin’ cock… good for nothin’ but gettin’ me pregnant. hah.” 

a lewd ‘pap’ sounded as you bottomed out again, the convex tip weeping in unison with his fluttering walls, prodding him in places that sent stars swarming in his eyes. he could feel himself clench with every movement, his stretched hole growing wet and sticky at each drag of your thick girth, hot and throbbing inside him. it didn’t help that you were groaning and grunting in his ear, hips trembling every time you bucked up into his swollen, dripping hole, feverish body bounding his in such a taut, intimate position that allowed minimal movement on his half—that had his inner omega keening. 

“he does more than that,” you muttered, rolling your hips up so you could rub your shaft directly against his sore stomach walls, “and you know it.” toji gave a dry sob, clinging on to his own thighs as the round bulge of your cock appeared on his abdomen, deep and sinfully thick. almost resembling a baby bump. you couldn’t help but croon at his reaction to your little trick, starting to thrust into his wet cave again. “h-he’s- definitely very good at getting you pregnant, though, heh…” 

toji could feel his instincts acting up again at the way you were talking to him—making him want to fold his arms, press his chest into the mattress with his back arched like a good omega and raise his ass to the skies just so you could plunder him and put a baby inside his needy womb. fuck. he needed to get pregnant. he needed your seed inside him, filling him up to the brim of leaking, your bulbous knot securing the entrance of his slutty little hole, preventing anything from dripping out… and making sure he’d conceive. 

“fuck me,” he growled, “as many times as it’ll take. fuck a baby into me. a-another one. i want a fucking litter, you hear me?” 

“so demanding,” you panted, despite feeling yourself grow dizzy at his obscene words. “i’ll give you as many as you can take—don’t wanna tire you out, baby. y’remember last time when you had the, ah- twins? doubt we can fit more than- hn, three, though, in that little hole of yours.” 

“it’s not little if even your stupidly big cock can fit inside,” he scoffed. “i said i want a litter. now shut up and fuck me ‘till you give me one.” 

biting back instinctual dislike of this being not the traditional mounting position to mate and breed—it was your omega’s favourite after all, so it’d do—you continued to plow at his soppy hole, each filthy push and pull with the only intent of fulfilling your role as his sire. pumping a baby, a pup, into his sweet womb, making his tummy grow big and round with the product of your hard work. it was amazing, really, how all of this could occur from one spurt of hot cum deep into your beautiful mate. 

you could feel toji’s body shuddering with pleasure, sharp claws sinking into your forearms and whichever part of you he could physically reach, small mewls punched out of him with every thrust. but that wouldn’t do. not while you were making love to him. you wanted to make him cry. make him scream, preferably, eyes crossing and back arching as he sobbed out his pleasure to the world. 

adjusting the angle of your hips, you tightened your grappling hold on him before grinding up, a smirk cutting across your face as you heard him choke on a moan, legs quivering where they hung on the crook of your elbows, evidently overstimulated. he wasn’t going anywhere, now. not until you bred him properly like he had asked. this was your duty as mate. 

“too much,” he gasped, “too fuckin’ much, slow down—” 

“keep up, baby. you asked for this,” you hummed, nipping at his shoulder as he squirmed on your cock, rim flittering tirelessly around the bulk of your cock. “just let me do my job, yeah?” 

“fuck—you.” 

“in case you didn’t notice, i’m currently trying very hard.” 

toji whimpered helplessly, tight walls squeezing the life out of your cock, as though he were trying to milk every last bit out of you. you could feel yourself dripping inside him with every heavy slosh—every push and pull of your shaft against his cramped hole, pre-cum mingling with his slick, creating one big, wet mess inside him that would soon grow into a tiny bundle of joy. 

“gonna look sooo fucking pretty with my baby in you, toji,” you cooed into his ear, rewarding you with a feeble shiver and an answering whine. you bucked your hips, pushing deeper and deeper before allowing your knot to slowly take form, stretching him across the entrance with the heavy, swollen end of it. “like always. or maybe it’s gonna be twins this time. triplets. fuck, baby. you’re gonna look so beautiful.” 

he sobbed out as thick, warm cum began to flood him, making him clamp around you intuitively to keep everything inside—the unexpected pleasure buzzing through you sharply and making you grunt and jerk, another hot spurt of cum into his pretty womb. 

“if we don’t get triplets, we’re trying again,” toji mumbled, gaze hazy, almost cumdrunk, stomach flexing in anticipation as you poured the last of your seed into him with a soft sigh of agreement. 

RYŌMEN SUKUNA

“put your fuckin’ spawn in me?” the curse scoffed, craning his neck to glare at you with his bottom left eye. “‘s about damn time you asked.” 

you had him on all fours (sixes), back arched and hips raised like a proper omega presenting in heat, panting and shivering as you bent over his body with your lumbering own. you could feel the drool building up in your mouth from the mere anticipation of impregnating your mate, filling him to the brim with your eggs and cum, breeding little beasts into his eager, fertile womb. 

you leaned down to nuzzle his neck in affirmation, clumsily canting your hips backwards before pushing them until they rested flush against his plush ass, choking a needy whine out of him. his walls squeezed around you in retaliation, still needing to adjust to the all-too-big intrusion despite having done this hundreds of times, the heaviness of your cock resting against inside him almost a familiar comfort. 

“this better- not be just your rut talking,” sukuna muttered, a low growl reverbrating at the back of his throat, quietening after you let out a soothing croon of your own, tenderly licking over his mating bite. “i’ll f-fucking flay you alive if it is.” 

“no,” you denied, but you think you’d let him do it anyway. you’d do anything for him. kill, slaughter, guard him with your life. you were his, heart, body and soul, and you’d slit your own throat if you left him wanting anything for a split second. 

still struggling to find a rhythm with how much he was writhing and snarling underneath you, his mind unused to such open submission, with him freely exposing his back and neck to you, your claws being able to reach his stomach within a blink of an eye; and yet his body was practically vibrating with how much it yearned for the pleasure that came with yielding to you, having your big, clawed hands branding his body, the weight of your touch anchoring him to the present. 

fuck. children, sukuna thought, a sob dragged out of his lips, wrecked, as the head of your cock rammed against his throbbing sweet spot. little yous, cute and fanged and savage, with your bruising grip on his hips and the feral snarl of his name into the sweaty scent gland of his neck, swollen cock working in and out of him with utmost devotion at one single directive that he had given you only moments ago—to get him pregnant. 

what would they be like? would they inherit your gentleness? or the side of your angry beast? he wanted them all. wanted all that you could give him. wanted you to fill him up, make his tummy grow and grow, stuffed with your spawn and seed until he was positive he couldn’t take any more. to the edge of spilling, breaking, bursting. 

sukuna let out a throaty groan at that, head thrown back as he gave a full-body shudder, his first orgasm burning through him as his cocks spurted onto the nest in enthusiasm. “fuck,” he panted, slumping down in exhaustion, a protesting whine tumbling out as you continued to move in and out of him despite the sensitive fluttering of his hole. “a-asshole, can’t you see—hnngh.” 

you palmed at the fat of his ass, crooning as you heard your mate whimper, head ducked down to hide in the nest, almost shy. “it is okay,” you rumbled, forked tongue laving over his scent gland in comfort, the fragrant, oily tang of his scent making you muster out a low keen. he was so sweet, so perfect, as always. he deserved everything and more. “i will… take care of you.” 

and you meant every word of it. until he was bathed in the making of your children, your spawn, you wouldn’t stop. 

“sukuna,” you growled, rocking down into his waiting hole with meaning, wanting him to feel every girthy inch of you, the drag, the glide. “sukuna. sukuna.” 

“yes, i fucking get it,” he bit back a snarl, turning his head to let you catch a glimpse of his teary eyes. “don’t stop. fuck. it feels so good. you feel so fucking good.” 

he whined louder as you picked up your pace, nails ripping up the nest into near shreds, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with the noises he was making, making the heat inside you grow ever hotter, making your hips move of their own accord, bucking into the warm, cosy chamber of his womb of their own accord. 

you could hear with every gurgle inside his tummy, his slick intermixing with all the precome that was squirting out of your cock in frenzied arousal, making a comfy nest for your length to settle into for mere moments before sliding out again. soon, it would become home for your eggs, a soft cushion for them to rest upon until it was ready for them to hatch. all of them, inside him. you would have no one else bear them. 

“sukuna,” you repeated, one clawed hand going around his torso to palm at his stomach, not quite full yet, but nonetheless bulging with your girthiness. “here, sukuna. please, please.” you pushed and kneaded at the swell of his tummy, strugging to tuck your claws away in the dizziness of heat and want clouding your instincts, but keeping them a safe distance from him and the seedbed of your spawn. “want to put them in here. make you full of me. want it so much.” 

“yeah,” sukuna choked out, tears sliding down his cheeks from all four of his eyes, chest heaving with breath as you took and took from him, the curb of his hole puffy from all the stretching. he could feel you growing, still, your knot starting heavy and thick from the base, and he held back a keen of his own, wanting nothing but for you to plug him up and make him your personal breeding grounds. just you, him, and whatever you would give him tonight and in the coming weeks of your rut, whether it be a nestful of eggs, or stomachfuls of your cum. 

he would take it all, like a good omega. he would do it for you. only for you. 

“breed me,” sukuna whimpered, two hands reaching back to clutch at your shoulders, your neck—any part of you that he could reach. “t-tired of seein’ an empty nest. want eggs. was waitin’ for you to fucking ask. wanted them for ages. fuck them into me.” you could feel his thighs trembling with the strain of holding his hips up for you, strength long gone, and he would have collapsed if it weren’t for you dutifully grasping them, making sure they were pressed flush against yours. 

you hissed out, low, soothing croons spilling out one after one as you heard the first pained cry coming from your mate, the sweet shape of his womb distending to make space for the first egg. “it is okay,” you whispered again and again throughout, lapping messily at his neck and cheek, a primal resemblance of a kiss. “you are okay.” 

sukuna allowed two of his eyes to flutter shut (the other two on alert, now that he had something to protect), two hands joining yours, resting against his now bloated stomach. relishing in the vibrations of your purrs and trills, and responding with some of his own. he could feel the shape of the egg inside him, scaled and ovoid and perfect. 

if this was the aftermath of pregnancy, if this was the outcome of hours and hours of lovemaking and feral snarls of pleasure into the crook of his neck, then sukuna would sacrifice anything, anything to feel this way again. this love, this tenderness, shaped by two hands cradling his soon-to-be newborn, the heartbeat of another pressed against his throbbing own. 

GETO SUGURU

suguru couldn’t believe it. you were breeding him in the fucking kitchen, of all places. 

“too much,” suguru sobbed, hot tears clinging to his lashes as he glanced back at you, bent over the kitchen counter. he could hear every slosh and squelch inside his sore cunt, as though your cock were trying to whip all the baby batter stuffed inside him into shape. “puh-please. i can’t, daddy. ‘s too much.” 

“nuh-uh, suguru. you can take it,” you gently reprimanded, one hand settling on his ass, squeezing the flesh lightly, making him jostle and whine. “you said you wanted a baby, right? daddy’s gonna give you a baby. now, we don’t tolerate going back on our word, do we, sweetheart?” 

“no,” the omega keened, hips trembling lightly as you impaled him again and again, thick girth making his folds part and lips stretch just to accommodate you. you could feel him shivering against you, evidently overstimulated, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, with the piece of heaven that you were currently inside. tight, warm and extremely wet, a perfect, snug fit for your cock. you couldn’t wait to spill inside hm again, another load of cum inside his soaked womb, another chance of him getting pregnant. “but it’s too good, daddy, please…” 

“do you wanna stop, suguru? does it hurt?” you paused, eyebrows fixing together in concern. a whine of protest tore from his throat almost immediately, hips squirming as he tried to fuck himself back onto your cock. he shook his head rapidly, mouthing ‘please, no’ while blinking up at you tearily. “okay, okay…” 

he let out a sob of relief as you started moving again, despite how he could feel his toes clenching and hips shuddering with every overstimulating thrust, his core aching and swollen. he was practically relying on your firm grasp on his waist and the leverage he had on the counter to stay standing, the strength having long left his legs. but suguru had to endure. it was for the baby, of course. it would all be worth it in the end. 

“good boy, suguru. just one more, and then we’ll take a break, okay?” you murmured soothingly, your hot palm a comfort on the small of his back, steadying him and making sure he won’t fall, grounding him to the present of your lovemaking. “daddy’s gonna take good care of you, just like always.” you rolled your hips in slow circles, making sure not to go too fast, watching his slick cling onto your girth in a wet, shiny sheen of sticky cream. you groaned your pleasure as you bottomed out, feeling him clench around you in rapid flutters, small whines slipping out from your lover in tumbles. 

“okay,” he mumbled. “put a baby in me, daddy.” 

that sent a pleasure-addled shiver down your spine and right down your cock, pre squirting out from the head, making him croon happily as more of your warmth settled inside his womb. “little brat,” you scolded, a playful lilt to your tone, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, to which he shivered at. you couldn’t wait to get your hands on his swollen tummy once you were done with him. it was going to be round and full and perfect, pulsing with the perfect concoction of you and him. 

“faster,” suguru whined, “harder. want it s-so much, daddy. give me a baby.” 

you grunted in response, grip sliding onto his hips as you tugged him back onto your cock, the wet ‘pap’ of skin against skin ringing in the air, driving your length deeper into his welcoming hole with more force than before. he cried out as you sunk further into his sloppy pussy with another stroke of your shaft against his twitching, oversensitive walls, pulsating around you in rhythm. 

suguru’s fingers clawed down the marble, soft whines and uneven breaths punched out of swollen lips as he struggled to hold himself up with your harsh, increasing thrusts, refusing to slump downright onto the table even as you pounded into him like you were pestle, and he was mortar. 

“always biting off more than you can chew,” you huffed, palms smoothing over the thick of his hips and down to his round, plush ass, before giving it a little slap for good measure—and he whined out sharply, shuddering with arousal from the streak of pain. “you never learn, do you, baby?” 

“‘s a lot,” suguru bit down on his lip, holding in the sob building at the back of his throat. the pleasure was simply too good, every strike of your bulbous head against his throbbing sweet spot setting his nerve ends on fire and flames, lust clouding his vision with how your hands were branding him as your own—your hips never once pausing in their mission to impregnate him even as he whined and sobbed and begged. 

“but it’s okay. y’can do a-anything you want to me,” he mumbled, pausing to rub at his glossy eyes before peering at you from over his shoulder. “‘s long as you make me pregnant, ‘kay?” 

it was at that moment that you realised, suguru with baby fever was a very dangerous thing. with a low, almost primal snarl into the bruised skin of his neck, you pulled out swiftly and flipped your omega around, sitting him on the counter just as he glanced down at you with wide, stunned eyes, a petulant whine on the edge of being uttered before you silenced him with a kiss. 

“daddy,” suguru whined against your lips, clumsily grabbing at your shoulders, even as you mouthed messily at him, the kiss more tongue and spit than anything, feral and a little violent with his claws now gaining purchase in raking down your back. “‘nough kissing. put it back in. want your cock in me.”  

lips parting with a wet smack, you guided your cock to rut against his sopping folds, making sure he could feel it, all of it—the hot, filthy drag of your girth against his needy cunt, stroking and teasing but never entering. he gawked up at you in betrayal, whining needily and nudging his hips forward, trying to entice you to fuck him, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips when it didn’t work. 

it hit him, then, just what you were waiting for. 

“‘m sorry, i forgot—” he rushed over his words, arms slung onto your shoulders in a half-cage, leaning forward to kiss your cheek sweetly. “please, daddy.” 

“good,” you hummed. maybe you spoiled him a little too much, but now he sat, shivering and obedient, your cock spearing his cunt in one strong thrust. in this new position you were able to reach way deeper, the tapered tip delicately kissing the opening of his cervix, making your mate sob and croon with the fullness of it all. 

“now hold on tight for me, okay?” you whispered into the sweaty curve of his neck, to which he nodded pliantly to with a pout, “‘cause daddy’s not gonna stop until he puts a baby in your tummy.” 

gojo is the kind of sub who would never admit he even can be one; his ego, his absurd power, and the identity he built around being “the strongest” make the very idea of giving up control terrifying to him… and yet it excites him in a way he can’t rationalize. he’s arrogant, yes, but beneath that arrogance lives a man who’s exhausted, lonely, and secretly desperate for someone who can finally stop him, hold him, ground him, and see him not as a god, but as a man who can tremble too.

his sub tendencies come from emotional fatigue: always strong, always responsible, always carrying a world that doesn’t care how tired he is. when someone dominates him with sensual intent, his body reacts before his mind can protest; all that pressure built inside him bleeds out through shaky breaths, choked sounds he tries to hide, and a deep, silent hunger to feel anything other than loneliness.

gojo is a dangerously bratty sub: he teases, provokes, smirks, talks back, flirts like he owns you, and plays at resisting only to fold the second you grab his face, push him onto a bed, pin his wrists, or use your weight to keep him still. the shift in his eyes is immediate: playful arrogance turning into something glassy, broken, and utterly devoted.

his voice betrays him instantly. gojo moans with shameless volume when you touch his throat, grip his wrists, or whisper deep into his ear. but once he’s truly giving in once he’s past the point of pretending his tone changes; it drops low, breathy, intimate, almost fragile. he says your name like a confession.

he has a powerful kink for being overpowered, because no one ever does. when someone finally makes him obey, pause, open his legs, hold still, lift his hips, or take instructions, his mind shorts out. he feels a mixture of pleasure and relief, as if someone has finally done the impossible: contained the strongest man in the world.

gojo is unbelievably sensitive to sensory deprivation and restraint. take away his sight ironically, removing the six eyes everyone fears and he falls apart. being at someone’s mercy without seeing, without predicting, without controlling… it drives him wild. if you tie his wrists above his head, his breathing changes sharply, his back arches, his thighs spread instinctively.

he reacts intensely to dark praise, especially that mix of possession and light humiliation: “even the strongest needs to be handled.” “look how fast you break when i touch you.” “you’re not invincible here.” each sentence slices through his ego, makes him tremble, makes him moan with that ruined, breathless sound he’d never let anyone else hear.

he is a hyperactive sub: he moves too much, laughs too loud, squirms away just to be dragged back, bites your shoulder, tries to flip you for a second of dominance only to melt when you pin him down again. he needs someone capable of keeping him in place even when he’s playing. if you restrain him with your thighs or your weight, he softens immediately, becoming gentle, quiet, almost tender as if containment is the one thing he’s been craving for years.

he’s extremely easy to overstimulate: every part of him is a weak point. kiss his throat he arches. bite his jaw he exhales like he’s losing control. slide your fingers along his thighs he’s already hard. when you combine it your voice, your hands, your body he breaks beautifully; his head falls back, his chest shakes, and he moans like someone who’s finally allowed to feel.

his sexual vulnerability is intense, because it’s the only space where he isn’t “gojo satoru, the honored one”: he’s just satoru, a man who wants warmth, touch, softness. when he finally gives in, he touches you with trembling hands, grabs your waist like you’re the last real thing he has, hides his face in your shoulder when he gets too close to crying.

gojo is a sub who craves intelligent dominance, not brute force. he wants someone who can read him, anticipate him, outmaneuver him. his mind is fast if yours is faster, he will follow you anywhere. when he feels you know how to handle him, not overwhelm him, he becomes dangerously loyal… and intensely aroused.