yuanology - Tumblr blog

yuanology · 7 months

Text

nanami kento is not the type of man to regret many things. regret will only take root in one's heart and turn them into a rotten monster, one filled with so much sorrow and grief that they are unable to even shift their finger. being a reformed jujutsu sorcerer has taught him such.

so, kento makes a point of always leaving without regrets and with a thousand nightmares saddled upon his shoulders. that's fine. kento is good at coping with nightmares and monsters under the bed.

yet, when you are here, smiling down at him as if you are genuinely so pleased that he's right here rather than a thousand miles away, kento is beginning to realise that he does have regrets, after all.

"come on." your palm presses flat over his cheek, cradling his jaw as if he's something fragile, or perhaps something precious. he doubts it's the latter. the both of you have been tainted with too much hurt to be anything beautiful anymore. "i've missed you so, kento. can't you give me one more tonight?"

kento should know better. after all, this is precisely why he has been avoiding dipping his toe into the jujutsu world. but favours have been demanded, and strings have been pulled, and you have held him too close, and he was back in your bed again, blinking up at you past his tears as if nothing has changed.

"too much," he murmurs. his voice isn't slurred yet, but he knows it'll be soon. kento doesn't like losing control very much for anything, but you're extremely skilled at making him give it all up for you, so he was fighting a losing war from the very start. that's fine, too, he supposes. he misses you too much to hate you for it right now.

your smile turns indulgent, a little condescending, and kento wants to kiss you so, so badly that it hurts.

"you can take it." you lean in, pressing your mouth to the crown of his head, and kento is suddenly twenty years old again with both of your arms thrown around him and your lips pressed right where you're still kissing him now, and he's leaving.

he's here now, and he's taking you the way he's never allowed himself to have you before, and nanami kento has so many regrets and every single fucking one of them wears your name and wields your smile.

"okay." kento forces himself to relax, to let you to sink into him deeper because you're here. you're right here and so is he, and if either of you are going to regret this come morning, then kento will do something worth remembering as well.

"good boy." he earns himself another kiss, to his hairline this time, and your hands tighten around his hips. kento lets out a sigh, sinking into the mattress underneath him, and finally allows himself be swallowed by the weight of your presence caging him in at the moment.

when you start moving, kento's heels dig into the small of your back and an ugly, desperate sound escapes his lips. before his hands can curl around the sheets, you catch them in your own. your fingers are intertwining themselves with his, and kento can only exist with awe as both his hands are pressed against the mattress on either side of his head. you press down on him, using it to anchor yourself as your hips keep fucking into him with steady pressure, and kento realises belatedly that half the reason why you can let go of your grip on his hips is because of his own legs caging your waist.

a soft sound escapes kento's throat at the sight; a whimper, a moan. you catch onto it, smile, and kiss it away as if it's a bruise that needs to be healed.

and, well. kento hadn't realised it until your mouth is sealing over his that it is— he feels raw all over, an exposed nerve flayed open above burning fire, suffocating all over, but he doesn't think he has ever felt more alive than he does in this moment. the sheets stick to his skin, and his hair is plastered against his forehead, and you're still looking at him like he's a miracle.

"kento." your voice is heavy, laden with the sound of your pleasure and exertion. kento has never heard his own name sound that way before: carrying so much weight, so much affection and reverence. it's terrifying.

it's beautiful. he has never felt more beautiful before.

he murmurs your name in return, clenching down on you, and he is entranced by the sight of your fluttering eyelids, of his name once again drifting from your lips in a feathery sigh. kento's own breaths stuttered at the sound, and he wants this all of a sudden. he wants all of it back. he wants you back.

nanami kento does not bode well with regrets, but you are one of the very few things in the world worth regretting. he regrets not listening, not asking you to come with him, not doing every single hideous and ugly thing he had thought of but never dared to commit. he regrets a whole lot of things all of a sudden, and it should feel like a burden but it feels like catharsis instead.

because in spite of his regrets, you are still here. years have passed by, and neither of you had stood still while waiting for the other, but you had still allowed him to carve a tiny, fleeting space into your life. it should be arbitrary, but it isn't. it isn't.

kento's back arches when he comes, fingers squeezing around yours, and his eyes roll back so far into his skull that he swears he can see the gods he doesn't believe in him smile at him. this is your second chance, they all seem to be saying to him, and kento doesn't actually need them to tell him that. he knows, and he intends to seize it.

he feels you fill him up, following his high swiftly after, as he shakes through the aftershocks. your voice reverberates from your chest and over to his ribs, rattling his heart and lungs, and kento can't breathe all of a sudden. i can have this, he thinks, dazed and high off sex and dopamine and revelations. i can have all of this.

you lift yourself up from him slightly, torsos still pressed against each other's comfortably. you're turning your head, likely about to ask him if he's doing okay because you're a good person like that, always have been a good person like that. even in his darkest moments, kento has always known your kindness. in the pits of hell, you are his light. you are what guides him back to port; you are what guides him back here, in hell or in heaven, he doesn't know anymore. this must be hell because it reeks with death, but you are here so it must be heaven. it is neither and it is both and it doesn't matter because kento is here with you and heaven or hell, both can be conquered as long as you were with him.

kento tries his best to live a life without regret and with such in mind, he reaches out and chases your lips with his. "don't go," he murmurs, soft against your lips, soft enough he hopes that you will see enough of it in him to at least hesitate before you go. "stay the night."

he never had to worry. your hand untangles from his, curling around his nape, and then your mouth his slotting over his once again. "okay," you tell him, just as soft. "i'll stay."

#softest piece i've written in a while and what's playing in the background is screamo pop punk godspeed soldier #believe it or not what triggered this is literally a fanart of nanami drenched in blood LMAO #sub jjk #sub nanami kento #top reader #male reader #nanami kento x reader #( thirsts. )

386 notes · View notes

yuanology · 7 months

Text

i haven't been writing anything lately help and i feel very eh lately but i wanna interact with you guys SO if any of you are self shippers or oc / canon shippers pls hmu about them i wanna hear some stuff about them ♡

#i've decided fuck you to the aesthetic me & my boys (my blog) are going to deviate from the Stick To Fics idea #also i just really enjoy hearing about people's self / oc ships they are always so fun #( text. )

8 notes · View notes

yuanology · 7 months

Text

it struck you suddenly, swiftly, with startling clarity one night that you had never expected gojo satoru to stay, only ever hoped that he would not leave so soon.

in every scenario you crafted in your head, it always ended with gojo satoru's back turned to you— walking away at a steady pace, never once sparing you a second glance backwards. why would he? he was gojo satoru, the strongest, god amongst men.

there was no good reason for him to stay, no good reason for him to crave more. he was with you because you were a thrill, but what would happen when the evenings grew stale and you stopped being enough? what would happen on the day you have outgrown your purpose, becoming merely another faceless passerby in satoru's life? it was certainly well into the realm of possibility. satoru met brilliant people every day. it was a wonder why he had stayed with you for so long.

so, gojo satoru would leave, and you would watch him go.

but he had not left yet, and you had not needed yet to watch him go, so you dragged him by the arm and shove him onto the mattress and you did not let him go. because as long as he was here, as long as he was choosing you for whatever godforsaken reason, then you would attend to his every need— you would pick him apart, and you would fuck him, and you would love him in the ugly way that you both only ever knew how to love.

teeth clashed against teeth, nicking at tongue and lips and drawing blood. there was nothing kind about the way you were grappling for his shirt, tugging it over his head. you did not pull away, because you did not want to see the fresh scars that had appeared on your skin— the product of his saviour complex cutting it at the nick of time, just as the blows were about to meet you instead.

"you idiot," you snarled against his mouth, because you hate him and you hate him and you hate him. How could a man designed for such greatness be so much of an idiot at the same time? "i had it handled."

satoru scoffed, a sound that bled out into a gasp when your teeth sunk into his jugular. "you would've died," he snapped back, his voice breathless. his hips bucked up. "you didn't even realise it was— fuck. you didn't even realise it was there until I got it," he said. "which, you're welcome, by the way— hah, not there."

satoru broke off into a moan, head tossing back against the pillows, baring more of his throat. you were merciless, biting and dragging your mouth all over the pale skin. his arms came to wrap around you, clawing at your back until you felt your shirt strain underneath his nails. you hissed at the sensation; he dug his nails harder. bastard.

"off," satoru said, digging his fingers into the space between your shoulder blades. a moan escaped you before you could stop it. "now. i wanna see you."

"you don't get to tell me to do shit," you bit out, but you still pulled back to tug your shirt over your head. you were on him once again in an instant, canines unsheathing to bite at the corners of his mouth, leaving fresh bruises all over his mouth. satoru merely parted his lips, a loud groan escaping his lips. pain slut.

satoru tried to reach for you, but you could read his body language like the morning newspaper. before he could blink, you had him flat on his back once again on the mattress, wrists pinned on top of his head underneath your right hand. with the way you were practically straddling his chest, he had no room to move— satoru tried to buck you off, but you didn't give.

after a short struggle, satoru finally slumped, pouting at you. "come on," he whined. "just fuck me already!"

"you shouldn't have done that," you said instead, insistent and futile.

satoru looked up at you, disgruntled. "you're still on about that?" he asked incredulously. "i'm naked underneath you, all hot and bothered, and you're still thinking about that?"

"you could have died," you repeated

"but I'm not dead," replied satoru dumbly.

and fuck. well, wasn't that the fucking point that satoru wasn't getting. he wasn't dead, yes, but he could have died doing something so reckless whilst being in a position where he wasn't supposed to do anything— he wasn't supposed to get hurt, death was not supposed to linger so close to him.

before you could reprimand him, however, satoru was blinking up at you with those damnable blue eyes, doing that thing he did where he angled his head so that his eyes would look bigger; shinier with the promise of unshed tears, just as you liked it.

fuck you, you thought, even as your free hand was already migrating to rest over his collarbones, a simple threat, a quiet promise.

"come on," satoru urged you again, rolling his hips against air. "we're both fine. if anything, you should reward me for saving you. isn't that how these things work?"

you snarled at him. "i ought to fuck you until you can't walk," you bit out. "until you can't do stupid shit like that again."

satoru let out a moan, elongated and exaggerated, and you wanted to punch him in the face. "isn't that exactly what i just said?" he simpered, blue eyes blinking at you. "c'mon. fuck me already!"

fuck you.

but you had never been good at denying gojo satoru anything, even when he was being a demanding brat, so you found yourself buried balls-deep in satoru anyway— his ass high in the air and his sounds being muffled by the sheets underneath him. your hand found a grip in his hip, the other having found purchase where it's buried into the tangled locks of his hair.

your hips rammed at inhumane speed, aiming repeatedly for satoru's prostate. you didn't have the patience to toy around with him this time around. satoru wailed beneath you, and you only fucked him harder, faster, rougher, because that's what he wanted and you didn't have the self-control to drag this out any longer.

because you had always known this would not last, that gojo satoru would never stay, but there were moments like these when you would remember that there was a slim chance—a slim, you pray, you always pray, even if you don't believe in god and something greater anymore, you still always pray—that gojo satoru would not even have a chance to leave before he was taken away from you.

and he very nearly was, even if he refused to admit it.

satoru's back arched, and you knew he was close. there were tears in his eyes, dotting at warm summer skies, and you wanted to rip him to shreds because how dare he come into your life, turning everything you have ever known by its head, and then forcing himself into a state where he was destined to perpetually inevitably leave, one way or another.

"please," satoru gasped out. "w'nna cum."

"do you think you deserve it?" you asked sharply, right by his ear, even though you already know you would give it to him because he was all the more pliant after the first orgasm.

"yeah," he slurred out. his eyes were halfway rolled back into his skull, his words caught between punched out moans. "almost died for you. fuck— think i can cum now."

you scowled at him, but you bit at his shoulder all the same. satoru let out a loud whimper, hips bucking, forcing your cock deeper into him. he wasn't wrong, and that was the damn worst part. satoru did almost die for you. in a way, that was deserving of reward.

"i hate you," you told him anyway, because he knew not to take it personally when you were angry because it likely meant that you cared more than you should.

he let out a weak sound, half a whimper and half a laugh. "lemme cum," he begged. "please. 've been good."

and he had been— because he had done everything wrong, but he had also done everything right, and he was right here, he was still right here, and you could do to him whatever you wanted, and satoru had not left yet, and he had not been taken away from you.

this had to be worth something.

"fine," you bit out, and satoru let out a delighted whine.

because satoru would leave one day, and you would never have him eternally, but tonight, he came home to you, with you, and you could have him for another night, for another day. you had him. you still had him— to destroy, to control, to command, to adore.

so, when you said, "come for me, satoru." it was your name on his lips, a prayer, when he obeyed.

#i don't fucking know what this is either pls don't equate this fic as my standard in writing #words needed to get out rhghr #gojo satoru x reader #sub jjk #sub gojo satoru #dom reader #gn reader #top reader #male reader #( thirsts. )

548 notes · View notes

yuanology · 7 months

Text

how all this, and love too (will ruin us)

You are still here. You do not think you will ever leave here. Because this alleyway is foul, and it tastes bitter, but Suguru is lying against the wall and there is blood pooling underneath him, and Satoru is standing unmovingly and his lower lip is quivering, and you are existing between the two people who have taught you the most of both loss and love, and the grief is palpable. You cannot move. You must not move. If you do, it will all end. You still do not want this to end. Twelve years is not nearly long enough to know someone. It is still the only time you have. Loving Satoru and Suguru, over the years.

READ IT → HERE

this one is a little different from my usual works— for starters, it does not contain smut at all lol. i hope you enjoy it all the same <3

this is a fic commissioned to me by the lovely @lofi-er, who asked me to post it for everyone to read. while i'd considered posting this fic on tumblr, i realised halfway through writing i had formatted it makes it look better on ao3. however, i may consider posting a tumblr version of it if people are interested.

#hrhghrh hope you like this hh #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #male reader #( sfw. )

81 notes · View notes

yuanology · 7 months

Note

Pls tell me you have seen the leaks cuz I’m not alright…

Im about to cry

anon, i'm going to cry, too.

admittedly, though, a part of me has always felt like saying goodbye to satoru's character is the way to go. there is something about the fact that satoru will always crave more time with the people he cares for, but he's doomed to lose them each damn time that fucks me up so bad because of how tragically fitting it is.

here is gojo satoru, a god who can have everything he wants, except for the people he needs. i wish he could have lived because if he died, it would be an unfulfilling death and that's the point. he's an object of the past, a failed generation of young sorcerers who could not save each other, and he's designed to be a lesson.

i doubt any of this is making sense to you right now, and i'll likely make a longer post about this on my other blog lol but yeah... something like that

#jjk leaks #( asks. )

32 notes · View notes

yuanology · 8 months

Note

been reading your stuff for a bit , just wanted to say that i think your writing is . . ethereal , dude. you write things so beautifully !! how do you feel about dms ? i wanna be your friend– but i understand if you're not comfortable with it !!

hh . that means so much to me. dms are always open! i'm not the best at responding during certain hours, but i'd love to be your friend! don't hesitate to reach out to me, i'll be waiting <3

#i'm always down for more friends lol #don't be scared just hmu #( asks. )

3 notes · View notes

yuanology · 8 months

Note

do you write yandere content by any chance or are you uncomfy

i do enjoy yandere content! i've never given writing it a shot, but i'm certainly not opposed to it. i just never had the chance to expand on an idea lol. if you have any concepts, do feel free to send them in!

#( asks. )

6 notes · View notes

yuanology · 8 months

Note

I will kiss you on the lips and give you 5 thousand dollars :3??

oh? well, in that case.

#( asks. )

0 notes

yuanology · 8 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/monsterinmyboxers/728222445965918208/october-reqs-i-got-you

For the kinktober... Blink cutely :3 🥺🥺🥺🥺

and if i actually wrote this, what would you do, anon?

#we are functioning under the idea that i am horrified to a point that i won't write it #but if by some slim chance i am intrigued rather than horrified—enough to write something then what happens next?#( asks. )

4 notes · View notes

yuanology · 8 months

Text

october draws near;

and therefore, so is kinktober! in order to celebrate, i've decided to open an inbox for any requests that you may have. feel free to drop by whenever (preferably before the end of september, though; the sooner, the better) with whatever filthy fantasies you want to see be written by yours truly <3

i'll be uploading according to a (currently not yet fixed) schedule. i will be updating my kinktober further in the future, so keep your eyes peeled and your attention on this matter, because i do plan on giving it my all. i hope you have fun with this lol because this one isn't just for me, it's for you guys, too :)

#this is my first kinktober so if this flops i will cry #← that is probably an exaggeration .#emphasis on the /probably/#( event. )#( kinktober: 2023. )

9 notes · View notes

yuanology · 8 months

Text

will be posting a form to ask for kinktober prompt recs (i'm late, i'm aware, shh). if you have anything you want me to write, please send it in there lol. even if i don't write it for kinktober, i might write it in the future. thanks in advance <3

#( text. )

1 note · View note

yuanology · 8 months

Note

what’s your favorite books as of now?? i’d love to hear you talk about them if you have some

HAHA this has to be honestly one of the most endearing asks i've ever had in my inbox. fair warning, i will literally be talking a lot for this one because i am first and foremost a nerd before all else. all links bring you to the books' respective goodreads page :)

remember to read through the content / trigger warnings of each book before you read them! reading should never come at the expense of your own mental well-being. be wise.

my number one current favourite novel is these violent delights by chloe gong. it's actually the first book in a duology, but i've been procrastinating on the second novel lol. the premise is a romeo & juliette retelling set in 1920s shanghai with a mafia setting and childhood lovers turned bitter enemies. it's one of my favourite tropes ever, and these violent delights executed it beautifully. honestly unsurrpised that it was as much of a hit as it was because god. it deserves it.

i also really, really, really love the seven husbands of evelyn hugo with my whole heart. the premise of it is positively stunning and i'm a sucker for tragic gay people. i lowkey jumped into it half-blind sided by the cool edits i found on instagram only to get smacked in the face with a lot more depth than meets the eye. the line about non-sexual intimacy in this book both smothered me to death and brought me back to life. i read this book in one day and walked out of it gasping for air.

i am also into the invisible life of addie larue due to the poignant way the author depicts a life without being remembered... even if the ending brutally demolished me. it was the epitome of 'immortality is a curse,' for me and it was just. fuck, man. it's fucking brilliant from the beginning to the end, and it's just a novel that i hold very close to my heart.

now, i know you said books, but i will be incomplete if not for the fanfiction i read. therefore, i will list all-time favourite fanfiction (that i remember right now). all of them are linked to archive of our own <3

being neck-deep in satosugu hell right now, i will have to start with them. i'd like to begin with my two favourite satosugu fanfictions which are caesura by cielelyse, otherwise known as the only canon 15 satosugu in my mind ever. the dynamic is fucking insane, and i cried a lot when i read it. there is also, of course, and carry my home by valleykey which i have reread despite the fact that it's 50k words and killed me brutally the first time. it follows 17!satosugu who gets time traveled towards the present time / pre-shibuya. it goes about as well as you would expect it to be.

other fics that also brutally murdered me and made me physically cry was punishment for a monster by mimiquack (suguru loses his memories post-shibuya and lives a non-sorcerer life; satoru copes...or something), i'd like the sun to set with you by chuuyasoup (satoru goes with suguru that day in shinjuku), smile like brass by chuuyasoup (role reversal au that starts with suguru being too late on that day), and laundry and taxes by hamsterqinghua (everything, everywhere, all at once au, you can guess where it goes from here). these are all angst fics that ripped a hand through my ribs and crushed my heart in their palms. there's more, but. well.

my favourite satosugu smut fics (because i am, after all, a smut author) is the midnight rendezvous series by damiselart. also, let's climb the cliff and jump again by ruche which hm, i suppose technically counts as an age gap fic because it's 28!satoru getting his shit rocked by 17!suguru (time travel finicky stuff; you know how it goes). and then, there are also these two other fics, lovesick lullabye and i'm done carrying the weight of this world (i just wanna feel this love) which are both by pastelcoloureddreams.

now, onto my next idiotic duo, i would like to present soukoku (dazai osamu / nakahara chuuya from bsd) and my favourite fics for them. starting off strong as a combination one of my favourite ships and one of my favourite books, i'd like to present empire of dirt by arkastadt which is a the seven husbands of evelyn hugo inspired soukoku fanfic with similar premise, but a massively different setting & plot. one of the best known soukoku fics for a reason. there is also, of course, i step from here without you by chuuyasoup that follows soukoku throughout the multiverse and murdered me in cold blood by the time it was done. genuinely one of the best fics i have ever read ever.

onto smut soukoku fics, everyone welcome bottom of the deep blue sea by arkastadt which is the only soukoku smut fic ever. you cannot ask me to give you a smut recommendation better than this. the premise is gorgeous, featuring an arrogant and self-assured dazai who challenges chuuya to make him cry and chuuya does. it's so fucking good.

there's definitely more that i've cut back from this list due to laziness, but feel free to ask for more if you're still interested! i was also neckdeep in hell in genshin & voltron & boku no hero academia for a while, so i should have fic recs for them, too, but i'm too lazy to hunt them down right now. if you want me to, just shoot me another ask and i'll drop the recs in the future <3

#this was way too much fun #( asks. )

27 notes · View notes

yuanology · 8 months

Text

divinity kink in less of a "fuck me in a nun habit" way and more of a "put me on my knees and rewrite my understanding of faith and show me what a loving god's hand feels like and give me mercy and wrath and splendor and leave your communion dripping from my lips and teach me how every part of my body was meant to worship you"

#this is what writing for gojo satoru feels like btw #if anyone is curious about what goes through my head when i write him #( reblogs. )

32K notes · View notes

yuanology · 8 months

Text

this is what being gojo satoru's weakness feels like—

the door to your apartment creaks open at precisely three in the morning; the witching hour. it's terribly fitting, you'd like to think, with how satoru has a tendency to flit in and out of your life with minimal warning, sporting new bruises and scars every time he comes back. it has become something you learn to expect, so you always leave the door open for him.

he says nothing when he approaches you, footsteps light against the hardwood floor, but he knows you are awake. you know that he knows this because the bedroom door soon slowly gets pried open as well and there is an added weight on the mattress next to you. satoru still says nothing, and you still pretend to be asleep.

after this, comes the following routine:

one, satoru will turn you slowly on your back (if you are not already on your back), and then he will;

two, sling his leg over your waist, moving to straddle you. his ass is flushed against your pelvis. after this, he will either do the following;

three, he will rest there, his hands either framing both sides of your face and pressed against your pulse over your throat and over the beating heart over your ribs. or, he will be impatient, desperate to wash away the thoughts of today's sins and he will directly move to;

four, grind his hips slowly, rolling it in a way that he knows you would enjoy if your eyes were open to watch him. here, he is always languid no matter what tension builds underneath his skin. oftentimes, you're already awake for this part, but you always allow him this moment of false privacy. after this, he will;

five, he will lean close, his mouth pressing open mouthed kisses over your throat and collarbone where the skin is visible from above the fabric of your shirt. here, is the part where he slowly lets himself get caught in the rush—all wandering hands and panted breaths and a kind of vulnerable boldness that he will never allow anywhere else.

this is where the routine ends. this is where you decide what you wish to do with the god begging for a glimpse of his own humanity in your hands.

your eyes will flutter open slowly, drinking in the sight of the moon's rays casting pale shadows all over satoru's skin. there is a halo borne around his head— creased and warped and ruined by the touches of the people who is supposed to take care of him. it is in this moment you will always realise the sheer gravity of your situation, the implicit trust pushed into your hands, the explicit faith he instills in your kindness.

"satoru," you murmur, soft and slow. your hands move to rest on his waist, never quite guiding him to move faster or to stop, merely ever grounding him into the moment. "what do you need?"

because this arrangement is never about what you want, only ever about what he needs. because you only ever want him to feel safe, and he only ever needs you to make him human.

for a moment, you are almost certain that satoru will say nothing. this has happened before in the past, when satoru will climb into your bed wreathed in the shadows of the early morning and he will say nothing as he allows you to guide him through his own thoughts. during these moments, you must always treat him with utmost care; fine porcelain and delicate china designing the bones and structures that crafts the body of the god the shaman world reveres so cruelly.

but tonight is not one of those nights.

he blinks at you slowly, like a cat, like a ghoul, like a boy reawakening from a day filled with haze. he whispers your name, his voice hoarse as if unused. your hand inches higher, moving up to rest on his sides, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs accompanying each of his breath.

"satoru," you try again, because you are relentless when it comes to satoru. because for a man who saves so many people so many times, people rarely ever come around to save him. "look at me, sweetheart. what do you need?"

his breath shudders, his eyes falling shut. he leans forward, his face finding itself a home where it is buried in the crook of your neck. his response is soft, quiet, nearly inaudible if you are not listening to him. but you are always listening, because satoru always has something worth saying and no one else will listen to him.

"please," he murmurs, and you can feel him falling apart in your arms in real time. "just take it all away."

and your heart breaks a bit for this man, because you know what this entails. because you know what it means when he wants the world to be stolen clean from his hands.

"alright," you say in response, your nails digging into to scratch at his back. welts immediately begin to bloom all over his skin, but satoru is shuddering in your embrace and you already know that it is the right thing to do. "get on your knees. i want to fuck your face."

satoru scrambles quickly to comply. he slides off of you like oil off ice, even when infinity is nowhere to be found, and he gets off the bed. he moves to kneel on the floor instead, over the soft carpet that you had installed after you realised how much satoru liked simply staying on his knees, simply lazily sucking you off as he allows himself to drift off and away from all of his own thoughts. you shuffle to the edge of the bed, sitting with your legs parted so that satoru can move to settle in between them.

his hand moves to your thigh, a visible swallow tracking a long line along the column of his throat. "may i?" he whispers, his tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip. satoru blinks up at you with wide eyes, pleading at you as if he is afraid of being pushed away, and there is a part of you that wants to cry for him.

but you don't. instead, your hand finds purchase in his hair, running through the soft strands, and you tell him, "go ahead, baby." because there is nothing better than you can do for him than this.

he smiles at you; none of that bright as the sun grins that he would give to the rest of the world. no, this one is more muted, desaturated, but no less genuine. this is gojo satoru at his softest moments, at his most honest. you follow his guidance as he gently manoeuvres you so that he can pull off your pants and boxers.

when you are once again situated on the bed, the both of you finally comfortable and pleased by the situation, does satoru begin to lean in. it starts slow, at first; kitten licks on your tip as his head begins to bob. he takes in your length slowly, bit by bit with all the hesitance of a virgin.

you both know better, though; all of this is part of a show, the one where satoru acts all innocent and boyish and oblivious so that you can take him by his hair and teach him how to take you properly. it's the same game you have been playing with him since the day you first took his virginity.

"is that all you've got?" you murmur, your voice mocking in that now familiar lilt that always spurs satoru on. this time is no different as he keens around your cock in his mouth, pulling off so that he can pout at you with pretty pink, spit-slick lips.

"i don't—" he cuts himself off with a soft whine, his knees shuffling forward so that he can get closer to you. you cup the back of his head in appreciation, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers in a subtle act of approval. satoru immediately goes lax, all of the tension accumulating on his shoulders finally bleeding out as he simply looks up at you with wide, lost eyes.

"you're too big," he tells you, a familiar script. the corners of your lips twitch; into a frown or a smile, you could no longer tell. "i don't know if i can take it."

"shh, baby." this one is a little different, but the glaze in satoru's eyes at the sound of your falsely-comforting words is all the same. "don't you want to be my good boy?"

"yeah," he breathes out. he shifts closer, always so eager. "wanna be your good boy."

you hum, tapping the head of your cock on his lips. "then open your mouth, and take what i give you like a good boy, alright?"

it's easy, after that. satoru no longer plays any games. instead, he lets his jaw drop open easily, his lips parting to take in your cock. you slide yourself into the velvety warmth of his mouth inch by inch, watching his face swiftly acquire that dazed, fucked out look as you stuff him full on your cock. pretty, you think to yourself as you stroke his hair gently.

"see," you whisper, bending over so that your mouth was hovering over the shell of his ear. "you can take it. good boy."

satoru whimpers around your cock, nearly choking on it as he does, but his eyes are rolled back to the back of his skull already, and you know he's most pliant like this. you straighten as you push yourself off the bed to stand properly. the change in angle has the tip of your cock meeting the back of his throat, and you both let out a choked moan at the feeling.

you look down at satoru, your hand tightening its grip in his hair in warning. "i'm gonna fuck your throat," you tell him again, a second warning, and you begin to thrust into his mouth shallowly. "and you are going to take it, yeah? you're gonna be so good for me, won't you, baby?"

if this isn't what he wants, satoru knows that this is the time to push you off. just three repeated taps on your outer thigh and you will pull off immediately. you don't want to hurt him, not when he is already hurt so often.

but satoru's eyes meet yours, summer seas filled with determination, and his hands only move to cross behind his back, wrist caught in his hand. like this, he looks like the perfect image of subservience. no longer gojo satoru, the god, but rather simply satoru, a boy eager to please.

you roll your hips once, twice, experimentally to gauge out satoru's reactions. when he lets out a low moan, a muffled consent, your hand temporarily leaves his hair to thumb at his slick lips, drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth, leaving a mess all over his face.

"keep your eyes on me, pretty boy," you tell him, your voice low and heated. "i want you to watch me as i make a mess out of you."

satoru makes an aborted motion, the familiar buffered movements of a nod interrupted, and you smile. your precious satoru is always so damn eager to be good for you, to be good to you, that you can't help but wonder if perhaps this is your greatest blessing or a premonition for something worse.

your hips rear back, and you fuck into his mouth in earnest.

satoru's eyes immediately widen at the feeling of your cock filling up his mouth at rapid speed, the head bumping the ridges of the back of his throat. a high whine slipped out of satoru, the sound watery as it was muffled by your girth.

your hand once again finds purchase in the soft strands of his hair, but you no longer card at it gently. rather, you gripped at it; holding him upright by only his hair as you use it as leverage to make his head meet your every thrust.

choked, garbled sounds escaped satoru's throat, and you kept the sound of your own groans and moans to a minimum so you could enjoy the sound of satoru's aborted attempts at telling you how good you felt. satoru has never been quiet, not when you are involved, and even as you fuck his face, he will always, always try to tell you how good you're being to him.

"you look so pretty like this, baby," you coo, your voice breathless. "so goddamn gorgeous."

and satoru is. he's so beautiful, even out of bed, casted by rays of sunlight, untouchable in the daylight, but there is something almost otherworldly in the beauty he emits when he is yours. because here, on his knees, satoru is a different sort of gorgeous—he is stripped of his godhood, of his title, of his crown, and he is reduced to being just your good boy, your pretty, pretty satoru, your satoru. no matter how briefly, no matter how ephemeral.

but that isn't the most important factor in what makes him look so ethereal. no, it's the fact that for a man forced to be on his knees, satoru never once looks out of place. he looks up at you, long lashes revealing summer blue, and there is a dazed smile on his lips even where it is being wrapped around your cock prettily. it's the fact that gojo satoru, for all his pride and arrogance, will always willingly get down on his knees for you and he will enjoy having your presence be lorded over him. because satoru, your satoru, knows that you are his just as much as he is yours.

even on his knees, even when he is relinquishing all power into your hands, he still conquers.

fucking beautiful.

satoru constricts around you when you shift the angle ever so slightly to reach deeper into his throat. for a moment, you almost falter as you watch his hands closely. but they don't move, remaining where they are positioned behind his back, and you take that as your cue to keep things going at that steady pace.

tears begin to cloud satoru's beautiful eyes, clouds dotting at warm, clear skies, and you have to stop yourself from fucking him deeper, fucking him rougher, because even satoru has his limits and your job is to bring him to those limits, but never beyond those limits.

the sight, however, admittedly brings you close to your high. you feel warmth beginning to pool in your gut, steadily building as you guide his mouth to take you in further, deeper, until there is a bulge forming in his throat, matching the shape of your cock.

satoru keeps his eyes on you the entire time, the good boy that he is, and you know that he can see that you're close, because he starts doubling his effort. no longer does he simply take you, he begins to hum around your cock as well; the vibrations sending electric thrills running up his spine. low pants begin to escape your lips as you tug at his hair.

he whines.

"i'm gonna cum in your mouth," you tell him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. "and you're gonna swallow it all like a good boy, is that right?"

satoru's eyes glaze over, and he moans around your cock. you feel your composure breaking, your movements growing erratic. with the purchase you have in his hair, you bring his face close to your hips until his nose is buried in your pelvis, nestled amongst your happy trail, and you're spilling down his throat.

satoru fucking swallows it all like a goddamn champ. he doesn't even struggle, choking on it at first but quickly finding rhythm like the damn prodigy that he is. he keeps his eyes trained on you the whole time, you know he does because you can feel the burn of his gaze on your skin even as you tip your head back, a guttural moan escaping your lips.

you make him stay like that for a moment longer, choking on your cock and your cum, before you finally pull out. his lips were shiny with spit and dribbles of cum, his eyes still glazed over by pleasure and tears, his face looking like a fucking mess and his hair sticking up in every direction.

"come here," you say as you fall back onto the bed, and he scrambles to follow.

he climbs into your lap and his lips are on you immediately, his hands scrambling to pull you closer to him. satoru's actions are filled with anxious energy, one that you recognise immediately. this is beyond just his desperation to feel you close to him after you've fucked his throat, this is satoru seeking repentance.

"what," you start, your head still feeling light. "what'd you do?"

"i'm sorry," satoru rasps out quickly, sounding so guilty that you can't help the frown that creases your expression. it's the wrong thing to do because the anxious energy increases and satoru is scrambling closer to you, hands grabbing onto your shirt. "i'm sorry, i didn't—"

"satoru," you say, not reprimanding, simply grounding, as you force him to still by grabbing his hips. "what happened?"

satoru swallows, looking at you with lost eyes. "i didn't mean to cum," he whispers. "i'm sorry."

for a moment, your head is entirely empty. satoru is still gnawing his lower lip nervously as he looks at you, watching you, anticipating your next move. but you honest to god can barely even think because you were watching satoru the entire time. his hands were behind his back and he barely even grinded against the floor, so how could he have—?

your hand moves to cup him, your thumb brushing over the wet spot. satoru stiffens, even as a weak whimper escapes him. "i'm sorry," he tells you again. "i didn't mean to."

fuck.

"it's okay, baby," you tell him hurriedly. your hands move to cup his face, feeling your brain come back to life. you wipe the tears out of his eyes, the clouds once again clearing to reveal cerulean blue. "i never told you that you couldn't cum. it's alright, baby. you did a good job."

he sniffles. "i'm still your good boy?" he asks, his voice so quiet that your heart breaks for him.

"yeah." you press a kiss to the top of his head, wrapping your arms around him to hold him close. "you're still my good boy."

and satoru is looking at you now with wide, guileless eyes, looking so much like a lost boy that you feel something splinter within your ribs. how terrifying it is, how something so seemingly simple can destroy satoru in an instance.

you tilt your head back, gently slotting your lips over his in a delicate kiss. there is none of that earlier hunger in the way you kiss him now, merely a softness that makes satoru loosen even if he does not melt yet in your arms.

just as he always is after an orgasm, satoru is pliant as you guide him onto your bed. you kiss him slowly as you take his clothes off, cleaning him of his sweat and drool and cum, before you redress him in a loose t-shirt and a pair of well-loved sweatpants that you had tucked away in your closet just for him.

once the both of you are clean, you situate yourself in bed next to him. your arms come to wrap around satoru where his face is tucked into the crook of your neck, your legs tangled as you hold him close to you. with this proximity, you can feel the way your heartbeat aligns with one another; beating the same rhythm, slow and steady and alive.

he mumbles your name into the silence, looking hesitant and shy all at once. "i'm still your good boy, right?" he asks you, his voice quiet as if he's afraid of the answer.

you swallow past the lump in your throat, distracting the momentary silence by leaning your faces close to each other; foreheads pressed together, noses brushing against each other. "always," you tell him, because it's true. "i'm glad you enjoyed yourself, baby."

and then, and only then, does satoru allow himself to go lax as if he finally believes you. he sinks into the warmth of your embrace, his eyes sliding shut at long last when you press a kiss to the side of his head and tuck him close to you.

because—

because there's a delicate line you have to toe when you're dealing with one gojo satoru; too much of something and you will crush him entirely in your hands, too little of something and he will believe that you do not want him anymore. satoru is a delicate game to play, a fragile person beneath all of his strength and glamour who simply yearns for a person to see him and hold him.

this is what it's like to be gojo satoru's weakness; in your hand resides to power to make and break a god, a boy, a lover.

#the ending part does not make sense probably #but it is what it is #gojo satoru x reader #sub gojo satoru #sub jjk #male reader #top reader #dom reader #( thirsts. )

1K notes · View notes