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Yuuta's quiet, measured steps echo off the walls, ringing through the entire space of this empty school. He walks, slowly, confidently, eyeing every corner of the corridor, stalking every dust particle that is stuck in the air, lavishly bathed by the rays of the weak, december Sun.
He kind of missed this place — this old, shabby, temple-like building on the outskirts of Tokyo. Sometimes, when he felt overly homesick in Nairobi, he used to reminisce about everything that's happened here: about his first, after Rika’s death, small crush on Maki-san, which he never ever confessed to her — it vanished as easily as it was formed, getting replaced by a platonic respect to a strong fighter, to a girl in the jujutsu world who has a zero cursed energy within her body; he recalled all the laughs he had here, caused by Toge-kun’s antics and Panda’s witty comments; but most importantly, he thought of him.
He heard his voice in the whisper of the Easterly wind, in the tender rustle of leaves, in the gorgle of water. When Yuuta listened to street musicians play kenyan folk music, his mind immediately went to Gojo-sensei and the way he enjoyed such performances in Japan, always joining the fun and capturing the public's attention while his students felt a strong wave of secondhand embarrassment. Oh, how Yuuta loved the way he shone in those moments! He ached so much to show him all the wonders of a vibrant Nairobi, knowing that sensei would definitely love all of them. They could've go birdwatching in Karura Forest to the accompaniment of relaxing sounds of nature—
The train of his thoughts gets interrupted by a sudden noise, a sharp, trembling sigh slashing a corpse of a silence in two. Yuuta raises his eyebrows, then draws them together in a slight scowl.
No one's supposed to be there at this time. No one, except…
He accelerates his moves, dashing forward, and stops only when he's in front of the one particular classroom. The door is ajar, so he peeks through its gap and… Freezes.
Of course Gojo-sensei is there, and his pearly hair stand out like an accidental drop of white paint that stained an already finished drawing; he, however, is not alone, kneeling before someone Yuuta knows good enough to feel the ick and a bitter taste of betrayal on his tongue. He was just thinking of him, too.
Gojo-sensei's back is broad, a lot broader than he remembers, and Yuuta can see his well-trained muscles through the tight t-shirt he wears; sensei moans a little, his head bobbing up and down, and there's a hand tangled between his snowy strands. This is wrong. All of this is so extremely wrong.
Yuuta is the one who should be doing this, because it's Yuuta who always protected his sensei, Yuuta who always cared for him, killing any living organism that even thought a bad word about Gojo Satoru. Yuuta bought him gifts, head always full of sensei’s blinding smiles and irises of blue topaz.
He wanted to make it slow: to be patient and understanding, to confess first and unhurriedly move to the next stage. He wanted to be gentle in their first time, kissing sweetly, whispering words of affection into sensei’s ear as he wrecked him lovingly.
But his eyes are clouded by bloodlust now, and all he sees is red.
“I never expected for you to be so lecherous, Gojo-sensei,” he says calmly, his soft voice is laced with a slight scorn, with a light discontent like one of a parent’s whose kid did something bad; it bounces off the walls, completely slaughtering the stillness that is already torn by their uneven breaths, mingled in one. As he comes into the classroom, he closes the door behind him quietly.
Toge-kun’s violet eyes blink, but he doesn't seem bothered by the words enough to move away, even though Gojo-sensei moans around him in muted resistance. He heaves a shuddering exhale from the vibration that engulfs his shape, hands pulling the fair locks a little more, causing sensei to choke. Lucky bastard.
Yuuta purses his lips, then raises his eyebrows with an unreadable but definitely not amiable look. “Is it at least consented?” he asks, eyes dropped down to Gojo-sensei's beautiful features. Toge-kun replies something barely audible, and Yuuta hunkers down, touching Gojo-sensei's chin, wiping off the saliva from the other’s skin.
“What a sight,” he mumbles, and then licks the thumb, tasting his teacher's drool. He adds, a bit louder this time, “Sensei, you're an elite slut.”
The gaze he gets in return is a gloomy sky, sliced by numerous of lightnings. Oh, someone's furious. Unfortunately, it's hard to appear menacing with a cock inside your mouth even if you are the strongest sorcerer alive in the whole world.
“This is unfair, sensei,” Yuuta says, his fingers trailing the lines of his teacher's body, making him shiver. “Don't I deserve a prize more than anyone else? I'm your best student.”
His palm stops at Gojo-sensei's chest, squeezing it, eliciting a sound from these pretty, gleaming lips as Toge-kun sighs once again, his hips pushing forward.
“When did you get so buff?” Yuuta wonders, his thumb circles around an erected nipple, and Gojo-sensei whines.
He smiles, sitting down on his knees to bury his face in the crook of sensei's misty neck, showering it with kisses as the goosebumps run all over his teacher's skin in a small but fast crowd. His hands crawl under Gojo-sensei's t-shirt — he would tenfold more appreciate being able to crawl under his flesh instead — groping rock-hard, tensed muscles of his abdomen, causing Gojo-sensei to stiffen even more as he works with his mouth, slobbering, leaking pre-cum into his pants like a bitch in heat.
“So turned on by giving a blow job to your student,” Yuuta whispers, eyes dark, his tongue wanders along Gojo-sensei's ear as his palm squeezes his pec again, much harder. “I am disappointed, Satoru-chan.”
Gojo-sensei moans. Toge-kun sends Yuuta a quick disapproving glance before thrusting deeper.
“Takana,” he mutters in a shaky tone, brows knitted together as he lets out an inaudible groan, “mentaiko.”
Yuuta hums melodically. “You're right, Toge-kun. I'm being too harsh on our beloved sensei, aren't I?”
A soft laugh escapes his throat. He lets both of his hands rest on Gojo-sensei's hips, gripping them in a glimmering hope to leave a mark in the shape of his fingers there, his claim.
“You like being called that? Kirara-senpai always does so,” Yuuta murmurs, unzipping Gojo-sensei's pants. “Have you been fucked by our senpais, too? Are you that lustful, sensei?”
He doesn't give him time to answer — well, it's not like Gojo-sensei can offer him a distinct response anyway. Yuuta bites down on the skin of his nape, fingertips touching under the waistband of his underwear, only teasing, and Gojo-sensei cries out.
“Did Hakari-senpai fuck your mouth like Toge-kun is doing it now? Did Kirara-senpai call you sweet names, pounding into you?” he tuts, “This is nasty. You need to behave.”
Yuuta's voice and hands are cold, but his heart burns with speechless rage, and he can feel the bubbles forming inside his veins as his blood boils. Toge-kun finally pulls out, and Gojo-sensei gasps for air, coughing.
“Toge-kun, when I said you need to train your cursed speech on me, that's not what I—”
“Sujiko,” he interrupts, but his gaze is turned to Yuuta. “Tuna ikura.”
“You know I can still hear you—”
“Gojo-sensei,” Yuuta calls gently; however, there's no kindness behind the way he pronounces his name, and something about it makes Gojo thrilled, “please, bear with the consequences of your actions like a good adult.”
He looks at Yuuta, eyebrows raised in amusement. “What if I don't? Don't you think you both are overestimating yourself? I'm still the strongest and your teacher.”
It's all fun and games for him, it always is, but he's so beautiful like this, Yuuta thinks while looking at his sensei through the half-closed lids. Eyes wet and red, yet as radiant as ever, and maybe even more so; they watch him with a mirth, with a challenge he can't reject — he doesn't want to — as he just lets himself to be sank in these ocean hues; there is still saliva on his chin from his previous work Toge-kun received, and it glistens, seizing Yuuta's attention and monopolizing the entirety of it. He's as beautiful as he is bad for him, bad for them, a mortal poison no existing cure can get out of the system, and Yuuta wants to make him crumble under his fingers, and to crash his lips with his, and to humiliate him, and to cherish him, and, and, and… There is no end to his “ands” when it comes to Gojo-sensei, he realises pensively.
“You will never hurt us,” Yuuta easily rebuts. No lie can be found in his words, even Gojo-sensei must admit this. Yuuta might be a psycho, might be a goner since the first day he met a person named Gojo Satoru, he might be blinded by the strongest of a curse casted by the strongest of a man, he might be a floater drowned in the freshwater of the other's shining orbs, but Gojo-sensei is his favourite and main subject, and Yuuta knows his majors by A+.
“Shake, shake,” Toge-kun nods, thumb caressing sensei's cheek, and Yuuta doesn't like how much he wants to sever this hand for touching something that is his.
“Toge-kun is your friend,” he reminds himself, “and he already lost an arm.”
“I guess I spoil you too much, huh,” Gojo-sensei replies, chuckling.
“I don't recommend you to stop doing so,” Yuuta responds icily.
“Spoil only me,” he actually aches to blurt out, but never tries to.
Yuuta leans in, his palm resting on Gojo-sensei's neck to pull him closer; his tongue runs along the teacher's chin, then gives a quick stroke to the corner of his mouth, and Gojo-sensei squeaks. Before he can even say anything, Yuuta draws back, glancing at Toge-kun's side. He doesn't need to vocalize his thoughts — the couple years of experience with their perfect synergy pay off easily by themselves.
Toge-kun whispers into sensei's ear, and Yuuta hates the way this scene makes him feel. This whole situation is an awful joke he can't force himself to laugh at.
Gojo-sensei gets on all fours and swears under his breath.
“What monsters did I create,” Yuuta hears him mumbling. He isn't sure if it's a genuine wonder or just a sarcastic comment; either way, it feeds something that lives behind his chest, that so-called monster Gojo-sensei so graciously raised like his own, and now it betrays him. In fairness, Yuuta feels betrayed, too — he just isn't sure by whom exactly.
Toge-kun kisses Gojo-sensei, and Yuuta pulls down his pants completely, trying to ignore the wet sounds their mouths produce.
“We don't have a lube so it will hurt a little. But you're the strongest, right? I'm sure you were ripped apart before,” these words are the sault on his wound he rubs into it himself God knows why. When he says— no, bursts them out of his vocal cords, Gojo-sensei tenses visibly. So he was ripped apart before.
The novel, a bit of unexpected knowledge pushes him to the edge, and he does a thing he probably will regret later, but he doesn't care. He is livid in a way a blizzard is when it demolishes everything that gets in its path.
Gojo-sensei yelps in pain when he enters abruptly, and Toge-kun breaks the kiss to frown upon him.
“Okaka,” he says, and then looks at Gojo-sensei again, their eyes locked in a muted dialogue, two hearts speaking to one another. It is as magnificent as it is disgusting.
Yuuta sighs, his breath is rapid; Gojo-sensei is tight, so tight it almost hurts. When he bottoms out, sensei sobs, blubbering his name repeatedly. He loves this sound, the syllables drawing out in a piteous manner, reminding a prayer. Did he sound like this while being teared for the first time, Yuuta wonders? He hates to be so inquisitive, this curiosity kills him instead of the cat.
One of his palms slides down to Gojo-sensei's stomach, finding a bulge he didn't expect to hit upon. He presses on it, forcing Gojo-sensei to shudder, crying loudly before his miserable whimpers get muffled by Toge-kun's dick again.
Yuuta leaves his shrinking insides just to come back with much more power, thrusting deeper until Gojo-sensei is a putty in his hands, a soaking mess creating puddles on the floor. He doesn't like to share, he now knows this for sure, and he bites and bites his sensei's neck, showering this impious body with his bloody marks.
Gojo Satoru is the sin he is always ready to commit, a poison he would voluntarily sip like a drunkard that fills himself up with alcohol until he passes away. Gojo Satoru is his God and his Devil, his love and his loathe, and both his torture and his pleasure, a great misery and a prefect bliss, an eye candy and an eyesore, the heaven for the sick and the inferno for the decents — Yuuta is something in-between, though he is more twisted than he wants to be.
Gojo-sensei's walls are painted red by Yuuta's metaphoric brush, and he will add white to this colour palette a bit later when he's done. Toge-kun pants, his moves get faster and more unsteady, and when he cums, his load is blown all over Gojo-sensei's face, making his hoarfrost lashes even snowier.
Yuuta groans when Gojo-sensei tightens a little more around him, his hand strokes the belly bulge before getting deeper under his sensei's skin. He craved so badly for being so close to him, for destroying him, for taking him apart and then putting every piece together again...
“Yuuta-kun, I— I can't—”
He shushes him affectionately, kissing the other’s ear gently. “Be good, sensei. Good behaviour always gets rewarded, right? Toge-kun, help him relax.”
Yuuta moves when Toge-kun licks his own release off Gojo-sensei's skin; his left hand squeezes the pale thigh as he plunges into the heat, feeling like he loses his mind with each push.
“Sensei,” he mumbles, head emptying. “Sensei, sensei, sensei…”
This is so hot, and he would love it so much better if they were alone… Well, at least he can claim his right of owning Gojo-sensei's body and heart in front of someone else, a witness.
“Watch me,” Yuuta thinks, “watch me ruining our teacher, the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world, watch him whining pathetically under me, because of me.”
His blood pumps, the view before his eyes turns blurry, and now instead of red he sees pale white as he gets closer to the end of the tunnel, to his little death.
“Y-Yuuta-kun,” Gojo-sensei suddenly mewls, “I— I'm gonna—”
He stills for a moment, and then chuckles.
“Sure, sensei.”
And as they reach the finish, he feels like the world ends, too. But he loves every second of it.