you know that trope where it’s princess + knight, but they’ve both been captured by the bad guys and the princess is now gripped by the jaw by the villain, receiving a thin cut to her cheek while remaining completely still with a defiant look in her eyes even as a droplet of blood begins to trickle out of the wound, all while 3 people AT THE VERY LEAST need to have their hands locked on the knight because he’s thrashing around like a wild animal, trying so so so desperately, violently, to get to her?
Your two boyfriends decided to beat the world record for the longest plank, but also forgot to clean the house. As you asked them to. Three times already. That's why you opt to give them a little punishment.
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, smut smut smut, barely any plot, masturbation, temptation, plank challenge, sly reader, use of sex toys, kissing, squirting, punishment, cunnilingus, they are starvedddd, and also pathetic (of course), dirty talk, they talk you through it
WC: 3.5k
a/n: late for the trend party, but oh well...
art by @/aransmind
When you came back home after a tiring day at work, a little flame had lit behind your barren eyes.
The first thing you noticed after crossing the hallway was a living room. Quiet, with only your two cats purring serenely on the sofa and all the blankets left as messy as they were in the morning.
The setting sun was bathing the room in warm hues, bouncing off all the dirty cups and glasses still sitting on the low table, although you asked Satoru and Suguru to clean them up.
Long beams of sun clearly showed the dust on the bookshelves before slowly slipping towards the kitchen, where the sink was still stuffed with dishes. The whole place was pure clutter, with plates and cups and a dirty pan from the morning's breakfast lying on the counters.
Something boiled inside your chest, and the tiredness made your head spin. In a fury, irritation, and disappointment, because where the fuck were your two boyfriends if not here, brushing the kitchen squeaky clean?
It's been four days since they've been doing god knows what and where, sneaking out of the house early in the morning and coming back late afternoon, with sweat coating their foreheads and dripping down their spines.
You asked them what it was for, but the only answer they offered was a short – you'll see baby, soon we're going to be famous.
Famous my ass, for your home was starting to look more like a brothel rather than your usual cozy apartment. Your job has been awfully busy recently, and from time to time, you also need to work on Saturdays.
Like this one, for instance, while your boyfriends had a whole day to take care of the house and still refused to do it.
That's why now, with a fury twisting your forehead and hands clenched in fists, you stormed through the apartment, going straight for your shared bedroom.
Quiet moans and pantings slipped between the door's frame, and you quickly opened it with a loud thud.
And then, expecting to see your boyfriends just fuck each other, you noticed them somewhere below.
On the floor, supporting their bodies solely on the forearms, bulging with blueish veins. With straight, naked spines and gym shorts brushing their trembling knees. With lots and lots of droplets of sweat blanketing their skin, and throats choking out low, short breaths.
"What the fuck are you two doing?" was the first thing that filled the room, and both of them slowly looked back.
"Oh, hi baby, how was your day–ahh," Satoru mumbled, with interrputing snippets of moans.
Your eyes moved to the open laptop in front of them, showing a timer displaying... one hour?
And then you noticed their phones, connected to the chargers, with a camera turned on and directed right at them, and a clock.
"How was my day? Awful, tiring, stressful, and I thought about nothing but going back to my clean house and two loving boyfriends," you said on one breath, seeing their faces freeze in horror.
Satoru growled, and Suguru followed him with a heavy sigh.
"Baby, we're so sorry, fuck, yeah it, ugh, somehow slipped our minds–" Satoru started, but you quickly cut in.
"Slipped your minds? I've reminded you three times already!"
"Darling, we're really sorry," Suguru added, lifting up his hips a bit higher. "It's just, we've been training so long for this, and–"
"For what exactly?" rolled irritated, with arms crossing on your chest.
You moved in front of them, sitting down on the bed. From this perspective, they looked much more tired. Exhausted, truly, but the sight of their broad backs bulging with muscles and sweat dripping down their chins was... oh well, it was rather pleasant.
They glanced up at your fuming face, trying not to look at the way your crossed arms plumped up your breasts.
"For beating the world's Guinness record in the longest plank," Suguru mumbled.
The what?
"I'm sorry? How the hell have you even got this idea?"
Satoru noticed a few strands of hair slipping from your pin-up, and Suguru started to move his attention towards the fire lighting up your curved eyes.
Oh, something else on his body also started to get fired up!
"Baby, you're not chronically online, and it shows," Satoru mumbled, and you did everything in your power to not slap him across his cheeky face. "We're just trying to assert our dominance in the plank challenge community."
"Assert your dominance?"
They nodded.
"To prove to some random people on the internet that you can do some stupid plank?"
They nodded again.
"Meaning, you need to stay in this position for the next–"
"Eight and a half hours," Suguru choked out, and your knees almost gave away.
Oh, they must've been joking.
You looked down at their sweating bodies with shoulders shaking from fatigue. Two pairs of eyes, one ocean blue and the other deep purple, wandered around your body, stopping on every curve of your skin.
You weren't wearing anything nice, truly, just normal, daily clothes.
The problem was that the three of you hadn't had sex for the past four days. Yes, rather... weird. But you were truly flooded with work, and they trained like two fools, so at the end of the day, all of you were too tired to even lift a finger.
But now, the tension slowly rising inside the room was getting unbearable. With their feverish bodies shuddering under your gaze, and low whimpers making you a little warm.
A little wet, with crossed legs making your cunt squish in pleasure as the material of your panties brushed against your clit.
The room was getting foggy, almost stuffy, with a smell of salty sweat lingering in the air and their hot breaths warming it up.
You've noticed their glances – lost and longing. Deprived of any attention whatsoever, and focusing only on the way the jeans dipped into the curve of your hips.
"That's a pity," you said, before rolling a dramatic sigh. "I thought we could finally have some fun today."
Their breaths shuddered.
"F-Fun?" Satoru muttered. "Like–"
You stood up, walking to your night table.
To the drawer that has been closed and dusted since you started dating those two fools. But now that a little teasing punishment slipped into your mind, you turned the key and opened it again.
The jewel.
Your favourite sex toy, you've been using every single night for all those years.
"Like me taking your cocks at the same time. You fucking me in Paris–"
"In France?" Satoru asked speechlessly, and Suguru tsked.
"No, dumbass, she meant the Eiffel Tower position," he muttered, irritated, and you giggled under your breath.
Your back was turned their way and the only thing they could see was you, bending over the drawer and taking something out.
Something long and heavy, hidden warmly in a plush bag. But then you turned their way and came closer, holding in hands a little, dirty secret you've been keeping from your two boyfriends for the past three years.
A long dildo, covered in soft pink silicone. With a little vibrator that could be either attached or used separately, having the sweetest, most toe-curling function of clit sucking.
And both of them growled, with hips almost hitting the floor.
Something behind Satoru's eyes boiled, and his pupils looked almost heart-shaped. "Baby, what the hell is this?"
You giggled, taking off your top in one quick move. The bra followed right away, finally letting your breasts spill from its relentless cups.
With nipples already hard and warm, as if waiting to be caressed.
A second later, you took off your trousers and panties, dropping the wet, dirty material right in front of their faces.
Not close enough to let them grab it and shove straight into their noses.
And thus you stood above, naked like a goddess, with plush thighs already wet in dripping juices and eyes dropping down onto their flushed faces.
"Unfortunately, it seems that my boyfriends are completely useless for the next," you glanced at the timer. "Eight hours, so I need to pleasure myself with something else."
A few soft pillows landed in front of them, before you plopped your supple ass down.
"Darling, just give us a few more hours and–" Suguru started, but then his throat suddenly clenched.
Because you spread your thighs open, giving them a delicious look of a creamy cum dripping down your fluttering hole and a little clit peeking from between soaked folds.
You raised two fingers to your plump lips and wetted them with a spit, before plunging them down, down, down. Straight between your legs, to give your two boyfriends an even better view of your cunt.
Your back leaned against the bed's frame, allowing your second hand to squeeze your plush tits, with fat spilling softly between your fingers.
"I can't Sugu," your lips pouted, doe eyes glancing at two possessed men. "Been waiting so long, look how wet I am."
Your finger circled the trembling clit, sending a wave of pleasure down your spine.
"I-I see darling, I see," he mumbled, looking almost like a starved dog.
In fact, both of them resembled beasts – with eyes glued to your sweet pussy and spit circling in the corners of their mouths.
You've noticed a bulge in their shorts, hiding behind a black material painfully hard cocks.
Your lips lifted in a smirk before you tested your clit again. Circling, pinching, rolling it with fingers, and letting sweet moans fill the stuffy room. One finger slipped inside your tight hole, but it was rather too short and too thin, compared to the thick digits of your boyfriends.
But you didn't show any dissatisfaction – instead, let out a honeyed cry.
"Mhmm, if only there was someone worth eating me out," slipped seductively, with a sweet, whiny voice.
Both of your boyfriends nodded in unison – frenzily, madly, with a quiet b-baby let me, and, fuck, darling, c-come a bit closer, rolling from their mouths on a single breath.
Your head tilted. "I don't think you deserve to taste her, hm?"
They whimpered (oh!) and shook heads.
Because they knew, fuck, they knew that if only they did what you asked them for, none of this would happen.
If only they didn't put into their heads some weird challenge and instead focused on their beautiful girl, right now Satoru could sink his cock into your tight cunt, and Suguru could suck on your plush tits.
To be the ones flickering your clit and have you moaning on their fingers, but instead, they could only take pleasure from watching a soft little frown crease your forehead.
Torturing them like that, however, wasn't enough and a sudden, horrific idea slipped into your mind.
"Do you want to have a little taste?" rolled in melody, and their heads almost snapped from the frantic nodding. "But just a single lick, hm? I can't leave my boys starved, after all."
A desperate yes, yes, yes baby please, and, just a lick, I promise, fuck darling just let me smell it, filled your ears.
So you moved a bit closer, till your cunt was right under their fallen lips and already lulling out tongues. Forearms started to shake from the fever coiling in their bodies, and cocks burned in need to get into the clutches of your warm cunt.
"Easy, remember, just a–"
But, well, foolish you must've been to think that your two starved beasts wouldn't use this chance to dive deep into your spread cunt.
With both Satoru and Suguru lowering their faces the second your hips moved close enough, to have your drenched hole right at their fingertips.
With two tongues sliding between your silky folds, lips sucking on a clit, and groans vibrating right into your womb.
"Fuck, baby, fuck fuck fuck, you taste heavenly," Satoru cried, with your sugary juices already dripping down his chin.
Suguru was no better, with a tongue trying to thrust inside your hole, till your feet curled in pleasure. "My sweet girl, oh fuck, tasting so good, clenching on me like a slut."
Their tongues brushed against each other, licking you clean in a harmony, working your hole open and slurping on a little, trembling clit like their life depended on it.
At some point, oh dear lord, they started kissing – messily, yearningly, with your gluey juices stuck to their lips, mixing with a spit. Your pussy was left alone for a single second before they went back to her again, smacking lips against each other while slurping on your drenched cunt.
You almost brushed their cheeks, beaming with droplets of sweat and single strands of hair twisting on pulsing temples.
Oh, they looked absolutely defeated. Miserable, with wet foreheads furrowed in a maddened crease and forearms almost giving out under the sweetness of your cunt.
They looked as if they enjoyed it too much, so...
"No, no, no, baby, w-where are you going?" Satoru whined, with a single, pearly string stretching between your folds and his chin.
Suguru, on the other hand, was ready to cry, with wobbly lips and a teary gaze following your glistening cunt, slowly drawing away.
You giggled, catching their delirious eyes, almost begging you to come back.
"Darling, forgive us, please, we're so fucking stupid," Suguru started.
Satoru rolled a sharp breath, feeling his cock leak through the shorts. "We're sorry, baby, we're so sorry, p-please come here."
Oh my!
You loved to see them in such a state. So miserable, beseeching, so, so different from their usual bold personalities.
And thus a sudden warmth hit your face, with a thrill boring through your spine.
One could think they were punished enough. Maybe it was time to let it go.
But watching them was just purely too exciting, and your cunt squeezed in need, every time their warm, shuddered breath hit your folds.
"How can I? Have you forgotten that it's supposed to be your punishment?" Your head tilted, before you finally grabbed the thing they had feared the most. "Besides, I don't think you can make me cum in such a state, but this–" a soft, pink dildo sat neatly between your fingers. "Can do the job."
Satoru furrowed. "Baby, do you really think it can make you cum? It's rather–"
"Small," Suguru finished. "Darling, your cunt needs a bigger stretch."
Well, they were right.
But it didn't matter, for your aim wasn't to cum, but to give them a taste of discipline.
Your finger flicked a button and the dildo, together with a vibrator, started buzzing in a low hum. You moved a little, pinkish head towards your clit, before–
"Oh fuck–nghh," a cry rolled from your fallen lips, feeling the vibrator sucking on your bud. With a little waves sent towards a bundle of nerves and pearly cum vibrating under its whirr.
Your legs spread wider, eyes already crossed, and when a long toy pushed through your flapping hole, you almost burst.
And the best of all – your boyfriends were right there.
Watching, with jealousy eating them alive and bodies quivering from a honeyed melody of your moans.
From your cunt swallowing the pinkish dildo the same way it always swallowed their dicks, and wetness pooling under your hips. The pillow was already drenched, and both Satoru and Suguru couldn't wait to lick it clean of your cum.
"Mhm, fuck, T-Toru, S-Sugu," you purred, pushing the toy even deeper. "Wish it were your cocks, nghh."
Their minds spiralled, gaze wavered between your puckered hole and hearty face twisting in pleasure. With glossy eyes, lips fallen open, and saliva trickling from the corner.
You looked fucked, and for some reason, they weren't the ones to push all your sweet buttons and cherish the plush, trembling body wriggling under theirs.
Instead, they could only pant and sob, with fat cocks strangled by already drenched briefs and cheeks still wet from your juices.
But instead of oogling you like two losers, they decided to give you a little push.
To come back willingly and move those fat hips back under their noses.
Maybe they wouldn't be able to sink their cocks into your wet cunt, but they could also not look at your plush body wriggling in pleasure and not talk your pretty mind through it, right?
After all, you were always such a slut for dirty talk.
"You look so fucking good, baby," Satoru started, glimpsing straight into your eyes. "My pretty girl, so so pretty. Thrust it a little deeper for us, hm?"
Your brows creased, but you followed his deep voice, moving the silicone toy inside your hole. "Mmm, so good."
"Heighten the intensity, darling. Feel it suck your sweet little clit," Suguru hummed, seeing you push a vibrator's button. It was buzzing louder, with its small gap pulling in your trembling clit. "That's right, our good girl–fuck–you're doing so well."
"Do you feel good?" Satoru added, a smile curving his sly lips. "Tell us, baby, talk to us. Is it good? Does it suck on your clit the way we do?"
Your head shook, tears already pricking in the corners of your eyes. "No–mhmm–you always eat me s-so good–ngh–the best."
None of you knew who was losing this battle – you, hearing their deep voices slowly talking you through it, or they, seeing how sloppily you tried to make yourself cum.
The silicone dildo pushed all your good spots, but it didn't kiss your cervix the way their cocks did. It didn't have a slightly curved head and bulging veins that scraped your walls in pleasing thrusts.
It wasn't warm and heavy, sitting inside your cunt snuggly and pumping you full of hot cum.
Fuck, it couldn't even breed you.
And they knew all of it too well, so that's why your creased forehead was giving them so, so much delight.
You would break at some point, they thought.
"Have you found it, baby? Is your silly little toy long enough to push your sweet spot?" Satoru cooed, clenching his fingers on a plush carpet. "Talk to us, baby, tell us how nice it's filling your tight cunt."
"It's too small, right?" Suguru rolled, watching a toy disappear inside your hole with quicker thrusts. "Wouldn't it feel better to be stuffed with our cocks? Our pretty girl loves to get pumped full of cum sooo much, I'm not sure whether she'll cum like that. Right, Toru?"
Another man nodded, with cheeky eyes oogling your shaking thighs. "You're right Sugu, who's going to fill your belly, baby? Aren't you just a little slut who likes to get bred, huh? Come on, move a bit closer, let us have a good look."
"N-No, it's–mhmm–your p-punishment," you cried, feeling a warmth already coiling somewhere inside your stomach.
But it wasn't enough.
Fuck, something was missing, and you knew precisely what.
"You can't cum, right?" Satoru guessed. "Your eyes betrayed you, baby. Move it a bit lower, yeah, that's right, good girl."
"Press it again, let it cover your clit fully," Suguru cooed, seeing your belly rising in and falling much, much quicker. You were almost there. "Imagine it's our lips, darling. Think about us sucking on your sweet clit. Shoving our cocks into your tight cunt, fuck," his eyes travelled deliriously between your messy hole and crossing eyes. "You look so delicious, pretty girl. Move a bit closer, come on. Let us make you cum."
But, oh, you were stubborn.
And they – they were stupid.
Because after another few dirty comments and their low voices tickling your spine, the knot finally untied.
Your cunt squeezed around the toy, clit quivered, and with a last few strokes, you finally cummed. With sweet squirt landing all over your boyfriends' faces, cushions, and carpet, drenching your thighs and their lips in a rich liquid.
You came with curled toes and thighs fallen open, giving them a scrumptious look of your pulsing hole and cum dripping down your velvety thighs.
And then, fuck, both of them just gave up, feeling all the accumulated strength leaving their bodies.
But before their chins hit the floor, they started crawling. With sore muscles and trembling arms, after almost two hours of staying in a plank, they already regretted so fucking much.
"Wait, what are you-" you didn't finish, as they were already here.
Right between your spread legs, with tongues licking your pussy and thighs and belly clean, slurping on the sweet cum and brushing their cocks against the carpet.
"I can't believe–fuck–I can't believe we missed it," Satoru cried, pushing his fingers inside your hole, and scooping away even more of the creamy liquids.
Suguru followed, licking Satoru's fingers clean, like a starved animal. "We're so stupid, darling, so so stupid, but never do it again."
They needed only a few, pathetic strokes to cum straight into their slacks. With heavy ropes of cum marring their cocks and choked moans going right into your sensitive cunt.
There was a moment of silence, with nothing but your heavy breaths filling the steamy room. It smelled of sex and sweat, with their backs still coated in salty droplets, and shoulders shaking in exhaustion.
"Well," you started, looking over at the clock. "It seemed that you still have eight hours left, so I expect you'll spend them on cleaning the house."
They nodded obediently, with a silent yes baby.
"But," Satoru murmured, seizing your dear, pinkish treasure. "This devil's spawn is leaving our household."
You giggled, grabbing the dildo from his hand. "It will if there won't be a single dust on the table."
"And we're also going to Paris," Suguru gave you a wink, before both of them left you with a sweet kiss.
꩜ update .ᐟ boyfriends!satosugu x reader
mdni crack ; smut
"Sweetheart, you can't sue a website" your boyfriend Suguru was caressing just above your knee, trying to pretend he didn't find your little frown adorable.
"She should!" your other boyfriend Satoru was pacing, hands moving wildly to drive home the seriousness of the situation. "It's emotional distress!"
"It was an update" Suguru sighed. The poor man had sat here for long enough listening to these two idiots freak out over this.
Satoru didn't even have an account on said website – he just enjoyed any excuse to be dramatic.
"Look at her, Sugu" Gojo gestured to you, still pouting and clutching your laptop tight to your chest like someone was about to come and confiscate that too. "Are you saying our girlfriends feelings don't matter?!"
"That's not what I'm saying" he shook his head. "You can be upset, sweetheart" he reassured you kindly.
You finally sighed then, bowing your head. "I was so stressed" you admitted, and the honesty in your voice had both of their hearts breaking a little.
The two men were pulled towards you like you had just said a magic word. Suguru tskd, taking the laptop from your hands gently, as Satoru settled on his knees in front of you.
"My poor girl" the white haired one pouted, resting his head on your thigh, looking up at you with bright blue puppy dog eyes.
"Our poor girl" Suguru corrected. "But its done now, right sweetheart? Or do you need us to make you feel better?"
Your interest was suddenly piqued at the… insinuation.
So you let out a long, dramatic sigh, resting your head on Suguru's shoulders as your legs opened just a little for the man between them. "I'm soooo sad still" you pouted at them. "Can you make me feel better, Sugu?"
"Of course, princess" he whispered with a knowing smile. Suguru lowered himself a little, brushing his nose with yours before your lips met.
As always, it felt so nice to have him so close, his delicious lips on yours as his teeth playfully bit your bottom one tenderly. Not hard – just enough to get you excited.
And then you felt even better; because Satoru was taking the opportunity to part your legs for you – such a good boyfriend he was – and start trailing kisses all along your bare skin.
His lips ghosted over your inner thighs, pushing the oversized shirt you wore over your hips, to give him more room to admire the pretty underwear you had been hiding.
“Mmmm so gorgeous” he hummed, biting his own lips as he watched the two of you have your fun just above him.
And Satoru wasted no time, making your hips buckle when he made contact with your heat, but Suguru was quick enough to hold you down with two palms to your hips, like you weighed nothing at all.
"You can't be running away if you want us to help, pretty" he tskd, pulling one of your legs over his to allow Satoru more space.
And the man eagerly dived in again, hooking a finger to pull your underwear out of the way while his other hand groped the skin of your thigh roughly. Satoru was always so hungry for you, making sure to look up with his messy white hair and wet face just so he could enjoy every reaction.
"You're so wet, baby" he cooed up at you. His girl really was in desperate need of this, poor thing.
"It's just been really hard" you nodded solemnly, making Suguru snicker. With the way you were so needy rolling your hips already, the two men suspected that update was the last thing on your mind.
And as expected, all that playful sorrow was out the window when Satoru's tongue flattened against your slit.
"We'll make you forget all about it" Suguru hummed, biting the neck you so beautifully presented to him. His hands travelled under your shirt – it was an old one of his that Satoru had claimed and now you, but he didn't mind. You were both his, anyway.
"H-how will you do that?" you asked, rolling your hips on Satoru's face over and over, enjoying how his moans made everything in you vibrate.
"Let us show you" Suguru smiled, pinching your nipples as you let yourself relax in between them.
What was it you had been stressed about again?
i have no idea what this is lol but i hope you enjoyed and tumblr dont you ever do that to me again
CW: best friends, double penetration, they are arguing and annoyingly hot, they kiss, creampies
f!reader
idk bruh take my laptop away
Your best friends were really fucking annoying.
Two ego-driven idiots you've known your entire life, and somehow they always dragged you right into the middle of their bullshit. Usually it was harmless, passive aggressive comments over dinner, or petty arguments over who you liked more.
Now it was this.
Your head feels light, thoughts melting into useless static as Satoru's thick cock bullies deep into your pussy while Suguru slowly fucks into your ass from behind, both of them stretching you so full you can barely breathe around it.
And they're still arguing.
Suguru's large hand slides over you waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you back harder on him. "She's shaking," he murmurs against your ear. "You're being too rough."
Satoru scoffs instantly.
His grip bruises your hips as he drags you back onto his cock with a sharp thrust that punches a cry out of you. "She likes it rough. Don't you, sweetheart?" His fingers tap your cheek mockingly soft. "Look at her. Poor thing can't even think."
You whimper at a another brutal slam of his hips, clawing at Satoru's chest while your head falls back against Suguru's shoulder.
"See?" Suguru hums smugly. "Too much." His lips brush your temple, soft compared to the way he's filling you. "Not everything has to be a competition, Satoru."
"Everything is a competition," Satoru laughs, his blue eyes flicking towards his best friend over your shoulder. "You're just pissed I'm winning."
"Winning?" Suguru echoes, then chuckles, continuing to shove himself impossibly deeper.
The next thrusts land in sync. You mewl helplessly, pussy dripping down one cock while your tight hole squeezes the other.
"Fuuuuck," Satoru groans, head tipping back. "Bet you wish you could feel how tight this pussy gets around me." He gives a shallow thrust just to hear you whine. "So slippery and still sucking me back in. She likes me better Sugu. Can't help it."
"Aw, is that so?" Suguru challenges. "Then why is she crying for me?"
You jolt violently at the first torturously soft circle against your puffy clit, a broken 'Suguru' leaving your throat.
"Oh, that's cute," Satoru mutters, annoyed now. "Using your fingers 'cause your cock isn't enough?"
Suguru only smiles against your neck, satisfied as he continues stroking your sensitive bud. "Unlike some people, I'm actually trying to make her cum." His dark eyes lazily flick to Satoru. "You remember that's the point, right?"
"I didn't forget," Satoru hisses.
He grabs your chin, forcing your watery eyes onto his. His hips keep driving hard to reclaim your attention and make your stomach twist.
"C'mon, princess. Look at me." A deep thrust from both ends cuts off your breathing. "I'll make you feel so good, promise."
His thumbs brush over your nipples, pinching just enough to make you arch between them. You're overwhelmed—drooling, twitching, and completely lost as to why these two took so long before fucking you.
When Satoru's thrusts get deeper and faster, Suguru's follow, each one jolting you up the bed.
"O-Oh— s-shit— mmmghhh—"
Satoru groans, leaning down to mark your chest wih messy kisses and sharp bites. "Squeezing me so tight, baby girl. Fuck, you getting close?"
Suguru sucks another bruise into your neck, fingers never slowing over your clit. "You feel amazing, angel. So pretty when you fall apart for me."
"For you?"
"Yeah, for me."
"Please. You think those weak little circles are doing all this?"
"S-Shut u-up—" you finally manage, shaking as your hands thread into the hair at the back of their heads.
They're already close, a strange, heated look passing between them before you shove them together.
To your not-at-all surprise, there's zero resistance. Their lips crash together and it's messy and hungry and mean—all teeth and breathy groans swallowed into their mouth's while they keep fucking you dumb.
It's so hot, you can't help but cum as their tongues dance together in front of your eyes.
Satoru breaks the kiss first with a rough curse, Suguru following with a groan against his mouth. Both of them still at the same time as they cum together, pumping your well used holes with their release.
You can already feel the headache forming for when they start bickering about who made you cum.
gojo rolls off of you, collapsing back into the downy mattress. his cock is painfully hard — leaking and sobbing for you. his chest is flushed ruby red, spanning all the way to the tips of his ears. he can't finish. or, he's not allowed to finish. his best friend needs his turn, getting antsy with his cock in his fist,
it's an unwritten, unsealed deal. you cum, they switch. like clockwork, the second gojo rolls off you, geto takes his place.
"you're a mess." geto comments, slipping inside your wrecked pussy, the remnants of your slick and their pearly cum bubbling up in crude, nasty visuals. he has to swallow down spit, already so overcome and overstimulated. still, he takes you the only way he knows how — the only way you three have ever accepted the others.
"p-please..." you babble, face pressed to the sheets, letting them soak up your words and tears as you present yourself face-down ass-up — your wrists bound behind your back with gojo's belt. they don't like you running away, and they surely hate it when you get overwhelmed and reach back to beg for mercy. "s-s—so senst-tive."
"if you can talk, you can take more," geto replies, massaging the heated skin on your ass, comforting you in small, dumb ways that you can't chew on until after the fact, when you come down from the fucked-out space they cradle you down into.
"we know you can do it, here, mm," gojo finds it in himself to sit up, bare chest rising and falling like he just got done running a marathon. he peeks up at his best friend with fucked-out eyes, giving him a look you can't catch.
they're speaking in full sentences and sentiments without even uttering a word, because geto's thrusts pick up — punishing and fast, like he's trying to finish the job before it's truly started.
"fuck, babe—
"oh, it's so good." geto comments, tossing his head back, eye twitching as he faces the ceiling, hips slamming into your ass as he pummels you back into delicious submission.
you moan, cry, and whine their name — starting with geto, morphing into something reminiscent of gojo, then circling right back to your pleas. it feels so good that you could die, like you've ingested a drug you can never live without, again.
their passion radiating off their souls — melting into one, then separating again the second you punch out a desperate cry, makes you crazy. you're not sure you could be with other men after them, your body opening and accepting them without even trying has changed every sense of your being. you're shattered — finally ruined in their perfect image.
you turn your head at the perfect time, sucking in huge lungfuls of air once geto's fucks ease up ever so slightly. he's distracted as gojo sits up on his knees, reaching down to trace over your tear-stained cheek.
with you in the middle — caught like an elated fish about to be eaten alive, geto reaches for his best friend, his huge paw wrapping around the back of his neck. you peek up, blinking stars from your eyes as geto grounds himself inside of you, eyes slipping shut as he tugs gojo into a bruising, passionate kiss.
you can't see it, but you can hear it — the clashing of teeth, the wetness of spit and lust. their tongues fight and disagree in each other's mouths, only stopping to agree on one thing, and it's you.
Synopsis: abandoned at the beach by your potentially-cheating husband, you're left up for grabs for two young men who don't seem to care that you're older, a mother, and married. in fact, that only seems to excite them more as they seduce you to abandon your morals.
Warnings: porn with the tiniest plot, reader cheats on her husband, SatoSugu action wink, threesome, public/trying not to get caught sex, milf!reader, hinted to be chubby!reader, age gap (reader is late 30s/early 40s and SatoSugu is in their 20s), reader's husband is mean (he's barely in this but I hope it's not triggering to anyone), double penetration, creampie, thighjob, fingering, unethical behaviour all around, mommy kink heavy, spit roasting, blowjob/deepthroating, face slapping, masochist!gojo, subby!gojo, femdom in parts, pússy inspection, hair pulling, cunnilingus, a little anal play, SatoSugu art by @/wacuoms on X, not proofread
Word Count: 8.4k
“Did you really have to wear that?”
You scan your eyes down your own body, more specifically the bikini you’re wearing. A little reluctant to know, you ask, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
To your right, your husband gives you a disgusted scoff. “You’re dressed like a whore without the body for it. You’re a mother, for Christ’s sake. Must you embarrass yourself and me?”
Ah.
So that’s why he regarded you so coldly, after you stepped out of the bathroom to get changed, back in the hotel. But if he thought you were dressed inappropriately for your age and size, why didn’t he say anything before? Why did he have to wait until you’re all situated on the beach, when you’ve already walked five minutes, when you’ve been laying here for almost an hour, and when people can hear him?
Self-conscious, you wrap your beach cover-up tighter around your body. You felt good before he opened his mouth. You were energised by the wonderful weather, the excitement of your children, and the thrill of wearing something revealing in a place where people won’t bat an eye. Now, you just feel like a beached whale.
“Mommy! Mommy! Look, I’m making a sand castle!” your youngest calls out.
You give him a shaky smile. “Very good, sweetheart.”
Around you, the beach hums with life.
The air is thick with salt and sunscreen, warm and golden under a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at. Palm trees lean lazily in the distance, leaves whispering whenever the breeze rolls in from the water. The ocean itself glitters, waves folding over one another in soft, rhythmic sighs as people wade in and out.
There are bodies everywhere.
Girls in tiny bikinis stretched out on towels, skin oiled and glowing, sunglasses perched perfectly on their noses as they giggle at something on a phone screen. Groups of boys toss a volleyball back and forth, all tanned shoulders and easy confidence, shouting over each other when someone misses. Couples lie tangled together, limbs draped carelessly, as if the heat has melted them into one another.
You feel…out of place.
Not because anyone’s looking. Not really. Most people are too absorbed in themselves. But it’s in the contrast. The flat stomachs, unwrinkled skin, the couples on honeymoons or anniversary holidays flaunting their undying love.
In comparison, you’ve aged. Your body’s turned curvier from the children you’ve birthed, you’ve got pudge everywhere, and it’s why your husband hasn’t touched you in months.
No.
Years.
He’s probably cheating, you think. All the signs are there — keeping his phone on him at all times, working overtime very frequently, a feminine scent lingering on his clothes that doesn’t belong to you, never pestering you for sex that lasts three seconds, if you’re lucky.
Oddly enough, you don’t really mind. Sex with him has never really felt very good for you and you’ve long stopped finding him very interesting. The love that was there, that resulted in your three beautiful children, has faded. You’ve become that couple that only stays together for the children.
A tale as old as time.
What bothers you most is how he can’t at least pretend to stomach your presence; he always has to make some snide comments to you, as if he’s a spring chicken, as if he has abs and a head full of hair.
The nerve.
When you glance over at him, you see he’s typing on his phone. Again. No doubt talking shit about your audacity to wear a two-piece swimsuit at your age to his mistress, whoever she is. He even has a tent growing in his swim shorts. Whatever she sent him must be good.
Clearing his throat, he sits up from his loungechair. “I have to go back to the hotel room. Um, a work thing popped up. I’ll see you later, honey.”
He doesn’t even wait for your reply before he skedaddles.
You sigh.
“Mommy,” one of your children says just metres away from you, “Granddad and Grammy are gonna take us for a walk. Is that okay?”
Your parents, despite their age, are much more active than someone your age. They came with you on this holiday. Perhaps because they know how your relationship with your husband is. You’re grateful for their company and for their help.
They smile at you, holding your children’s hands. Thank god for them because three children by yourself in this heat and in this crowd would be overwhelming as hell.
With a nod, you reply, “Yes, of course, sweeties. You go easy on them, okay? Do as they say and don’t go running off on your own.”
The three of them cheer.
Taking one of the bags with their goggles, armbands, water bottles, and children-friendly sunscreens, they go off on a little adventure. At least your kids are happy. That’s everything.
You’re left on your own on the lounge chair, partially shaded by the parasol.
Maybe you’ll read for a bit, nap, listen to some beach music — anything’s possible now it’s just you. A little peace and quiet will be nice. Yeah, it’ll be nice. That’s all a housewife like you can do anyway. You certainly can’t go parasailing or rent a speedboat, can you?
The thought has you chuckling to yourself.
“What’s funny, gorgeous?”
You jolt.
On the lounge chair beside you, the one your husband was occupying, is no longer vacant.
One man, with long hair tied up in a bun, is sitting facing you. There’s another behind him, one with white hair and pure black sunglasses, lying under the umbrella. When had they gotten here? Where did they come from? And how long have they been there?
The white haired man tilts his head to look at you over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m in the mood to laugh, so please, share with the class.”
Confused, you sit up. “Excuse me?”
Man-bun gives you a small smile. “Where are our manners?” He gestures to himself. “I’m Suguru.” He gestures behind him. “This is Satoru.”
You introduce yourself, though you know you shouldn’t.
They’re much younger than you are, you can tell. They have abs, which anyone can see through the sliver of the opening of their hoodie and tropical shirt; mischievous smiles that say they’re no strangers to trouble; and hungry eyes that are scanning your body up and down.
What do they want?
Satoru yawns, long limbs stretching. “We overheard your shitty husband running his mouth. He always like that? Y’know, spewing lies?”
God, you knew people could hear him berating you. It’s one thing behind closed doors, but it’s another to be perceived by outsiders. These two young men must have felt so bad for you they came over to make you feel better. How humiliating.
Cheeks heating up, you try to shoo them away. “I’m not sure what you want from me, but there’s nothing I can give you.”
Suguru tries to hide his smile between his hand. He muses, “Oh, I’m not sure about that — you look like you’re more than an expert in wrangling two unruly boys.”
There’s an undertone in his words that has you on edge.
Are they flirting with you?
You struggle for words, unsure of what to say. On one hand, it’s inappropriate for someone your age to be entertaining men younger than you, especially when you’re married and a mother. On the other hand, the attention is nice. You haven’t had men expressing their interest in you in a while. And they’re very good looking boys.
Drop dead gorgeous, actually.
Maybe you’ll let them stay, converse for a bit until they get bored and leave. It’s not like your husband will be coming back any time soon. And he’s doing much worse right now. A little harmless fun won’t be so bad, right?
“So you’re here with family?” Suguru, the more polite of the two, asks.
“Yeah,” you answer, sipping some water from your bottle, “just a little family holiday before the start of school. And you two?”
Satoru waves the question off with a lazy hand. “No, no, we live here. You can say this is our domain and you’re all trespassing, but we’re more than happy to have a beauty like you wandering around.”
The compliment has you flushing. “Oh, hush you.”
“No, we’re serious,” Suguru says, gesturing over your body. “Every part of you looks too good to eat.”
“We’ll certainly still do though,” his friend adds, laughing.
Despite how awkward you feel talking to two people out of your age range, you find yourself laughing along too. Yeah, this is completely harmless, you think. They’re just boys finding it funny to mess around with the tourists. Boys their age want a romp, anything exciting to brag to their friends about.
And you’re surrounded by strangers you’ll likely never see again.
Let’s see how far this can go.
Playing along, you sultrily ask, “Oh, and you think you can handle a woman like me? I’d eat you for dinner.”
“Promise?” they respond in unison.
They’re eager, that’s for sure.
Practically drooling at the sight of you. They even lick their lips when you sit up straighter, tits bouncing with the movement.
Maybe this isn’t a good idea…
Maybe they think you’re being serious, that you’ll actually let them have a taste.
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you give them understanding smiles. “Look, boys, I appreciate your interest. Really. But I’m too old for you. There’s plenty of young girls around thou—”
“Blergh.”
Satoru picks up the sunscreen from the little table between your two seats. He throws his sunglasses off and eyes the ingredients on the label. “When was the last time you reapplied?” he asks suddenly.
“I can’t remember,” you respond honestly, blinking at how they ignored your rejection.
Suguru shakes his head, tutting. “That’s not good enough. Very bad, actually. Very, very bad.”
Your skin’s just fine, you want to say, but any reassurance dies out on your tongue when they stand and circle you like wolves. From down here, they look so much taller. You can see their flawless skin more clearly now, can see the hard ridges of their tight body, and the softness.
Whereas your husband is flabby, hairy, and rough everywhere.
From your youth, you remember how wonderful it was to feel softness weighing you down, the energy only young men have, and their eagerness to please. It’s a life in the past come back to the present. Your thighs press together.
They notice.
The two exchange knowing looks, punctuated by victorious smiles.
You just gave them the go-ahead they’ve been looking for.
They both come to kneel beside you. You’re blocked from either side. Trapped. Landlocked. Prey to their hunt.
“Wait a minute,” you say, panicked, when your covering is yanked off your body. You try to cover yourself with the towel from under you but they’re not giving you any room to move. “What’re you two doing!”
Suguru pinches the strings of your bikini bottoms, not pulling, just twirling the flimsy thing as though aware of how easily he could bare you to him. He casually says, “Oh, we’re just doing our duty and preventing skin cancer; the sun’s a killer, haven’t you heard, pretty?”
Meanwhile, Satoru squirts a fat dollop of sunscreen into his palm. He grins down at you. “Maybe that’s what he’s doing — I’m gonna feel you up.”
“I’d turn over very quickly if you don’t want him groping your tits…yet,” Suguru warns, amused.
Right as those pale hands are about to make contact on your skin, you flop onto your belly like a fish. They land on your back with an, “Awww.”
You wince.
His hands are cold. They rove over your back with no hesitation. Satoru whistles. “You’re so soft! I wanna just gobble you up.”
This isn’t so bad, right? After all, you’ve always had trouble getting sunscreen on your back. Gulping nervously, you mutter, “Let’s keep this cute, you two. You’re only reapplying sunscreen. That’s it, alright? No, coping a feel.”
Behind you, someone snorts.
“Sure,” they say in unison with no real conviction behind the syllable.
Another pair of hands joins you. They’re cold too. It massages the oily thing on your back, taking over for the other pair which has ventured to your legs. They’re good at this — they’re pushing knots away, untightening the tension in your body, and applying just the right amount of texture to have you releasing low, satisfied moans.
People must be looking at you weirdly; you were just with your family five minutes ago. Now you’re being touched up by men probably half your age.
But, for all their teasing, they are respecting your boundary.
Until they aren’t.
It starts off slow at first, very light and almost not there. For a minute, you can actually convince yourself they’re just being helpful. Although, you’re vaguely conscious of hands coming under the bow of your bikini top with the excuse of needing to get even the areas that won’t see the sun. The other pair climb up to your thighs, delving into the inner parts, forcing your legs apart.
You’re on edge, unable to let the tempting sleep take you.
At every second, you’re aware of exactly where they’re touching, of who is. You can tell the difference: Satoru is more rushed, more excited. He wants to feel all of you all at once. Whereas, Suguru is more languid, more leisurely. He takes his time. He wants you to feel him.
“Feel good?” one of them asks.
“Mmm.”
“Yeah, of course you’re feeling good. Who doesn’t like to be massaged?” the other says, arrogant. “You know, we’re good at internal massages too.”
Biting your lip, cheek smushed on the towel, you say, “Behave, Satoru.”
He groans, hands gripping your thighs tight. “That’s so fucking hot.”
“Careful,” Suguru drawls. “Your mommy kink is showing.”
“Mind your own business, Suguru.”
That’s when they start growing bolder — the hands at your thighs creep up higher, gripping you in pulses, whilst the hands on your back slide down the sides, fingertips grazing the plumpness of your breasts which have spilt out. You tense, anticipating their next moves.
A thumb brushes the gusset of your bottoms. You jolt.
In a flash, you push yourself up.
They stare up at you, pupils blown out and eyes tracking your every move. Both of them look annoyed that you’d pulled away just when it was getting good. But you had to. They were about to do something very, very wrong in a very, very public setting.
“I’m going to get in the water,” you tell them, inching away. Your feet sink in the sand. Out of the shade, the sun’s heat engulfs you. Now that you’re free from their broad chests, you notice how the beach isn’t all that crowded. There’s definitely people out and about — families, kids, old people and vendors — just not so many that you can’t breathe.
You could have sworn there were more people minutes ago. Are you relieved that there are less witnesses to your inappropriate indulgement or frightened by the fact there are less witnesses to their hunger?
Suguru nods, rolling a shoulder back. “Yes, good idea. We’ll join you.”
“What?” you nearly shriek. Then, trying to compose yourself, you argue, “No, no. No need. Go and enjoy your day. Do whatever it is kids do these days.”
Satoru’s the first to stand. First to stroll over to you. He throws his jacket behind him. It lands right where you had been lying down. With a shit-eating grin, he spins you around and slings an arm over your shoulders. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re right where we wanna be.”
His friend slinks to your side, also shirtless.
You dig your heels in the sand, tugging yourself away. “On second thoughts, maybe I should go back to my hotel and see how my husband’s doing.”
They share a look.
Then they’re both dragging you to the water.
Maybe they’re strong and you can do nothing against their insistence. Maybe you don’t fight that hard. Whatever the case may be, you end up stepping inside the water regardless.
The small waves lap at your ankles, and soon, with their guiding hands, at your shin, knees, then thighs, hips, waist, and in a blink, you’re mostly submerged. The sea really is all-consuming.
Their chiselled shoulders and chests are all you can see as they circle you in the water like sharks. There are a few people in the water too, but they’re spread out. No one close enough to hear you thankfully.
“We’ve been eyeing you since you got here,” Suguru confesses, lips grazing the shell of your ear as he presses close behind you. He grips your waist, inching up a little.
You’re even closer to them than before — they’re tall, strong, carved by the heavens, truly blessed. So why are they here, with you? Why you when there are so many younger, prettier girls?
Satoru’s hands find your hips under the water, he yanks himself to you. “Couldn’t stop looking at you in this sexy bikini. We’ve been hard since. Like, really, really hard.”
They sandwich you between them, between two men who are young enough to be your friends’ children. Or your own. With a shake of your head, you attempt to scold them: “Now, boys, this is very bad of you. I’ll overlook this just once so you can go on your way and your parents won’t have to know.”
One of them snickers. He looks over your head to talk to his friend. “Parents? She thinks we’re kids.”
Suguru leaves a scalding kiss on your bare shoulder. You gasp. He says, “We’re grown men, pretty. We’re all adults here. What are you so worried about?”
The three of you are swaying in the water. The salty scent of the sea is hitting your nose, dizzying. In the distance, you hear people’s laughter and their light conversation. The world is turning, though it feels like it’s paused for you.
“Maybe I’m worried about the boners you’re grinding against me,” you retort, flustered. You’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to pretend you can’t feel two hot and heavy things poking your back and your stomach. But they make it impossible to when they’re grinding it against your body so shamelessly.
To make a point, Satoru moves your hips on his body. He’s rubbing you up on his boner, face buried in his chest with the water tickling your collarbone. He makes a pornographic moan, partly to tease you and partly because it’s helping his boner.
In a panic, you scan the area for anyone who might have heard.
No one’s looking.
He says, “I wanna feel good. Don’t you wanna feel good? Wanna do something about the boners you’ve given us? Y’know, take responsibility and all that?”
At first, you wanted to dispute his second question; you did not give anyone anything, let that be clear. But his main question echoes in your head.
You do want to feel good.
By god, do you.
You haven’t felt good in years. You’ve forgotten what it even means to feel good. Still, this is wrong. It’s all shades of wrong, and you can’t let yourself get swept up. So you weakly reply, “I’m a mother.”
“Mmm, that makes no difference to us,” Suguru says. His hands are right under your heavy breasts now, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the fat that can’t be contained by the flimsy material. He weighs them in his palms, bouncing them up and down. Above the water, the tops emerge, all wet and shiny. Satoru can’t tear his eyes away. His friend continues, "Though, between you and me, he might actually really like that fact.”
Satoru doesn’t deny that. He only ruts his cock harder against your stomach through the thin layer of his shorts.
“I’m much older than you,” you say, reaching for anything that might dissuade them.
The man in front of you snorts. “Duh. We can tell that much.”
You don’t know why that offends you. But it does.
Before you can process what you’re doing, your palm makes contact with his cheek. Redness blossoms on the pale surface. Satoru’s face has whipped to the side. He blinks, processing what just happens, as you do. A tongue pokes through the injured cheek. He tests the sting, the corner of his lip twitching.
Someone laughs behind you. “You’ve done it now, pretty girl.”
When bright blue eyes pierce you — an almost deranged smirk warping his face into something older, something more authoritative than you — you realise the truth behind Suguru’s remark.
You really have done it now.
“You’ve given me a booboo,” he says, putting on a baby voice to mock how you hide between the age difference. “You should make me feel better, right, mom-my?”
“Oh goodness…”
His hands leave your hips, fumbling for something in the water. Though the water’s clear, you can’t bring yourself to look down. So it comes as a surprise to you when a long, hot thing slots itself right between your thighs, with the help of Suguru who lifts you up with ease in the water.
Satoru smushes his face right in between your tits which are drying under the sun now. He thrusts his cock back and forth, rubbing your clothed pussy. A fat cockhead nudges your clit on every return.
You’re panting, holding onto any part of them for purchase. “Wait,” you breathe out. “I’m married! I’m married!”
Too busy mouthing at the salt on your skin, Suguru instead has to reply, “We don’t care. We really. Fucking. Don’t.”
“Yeah,” his friend says, resurfacing from your tits to throw his head back with a groan. The water’s lapping more aggressively, disrupted by his thrusting and your squirming. “Your husband’s an ass who can’t appreciate when he has a great one right in front of him. If he won’t make you feel good, we will.”
“That’s right,” Suguru adds. He grips your chin and brings you to look at him. His lips touch your lips. He whispers against them, “You just have to let us.”
One of his arms is wrapped under your breasts, pushing them up for Satoru to rest his face on as he keeps rubbing his cock between your thighs. The other releases your chin to grope one tit. His blunt nail scratches a hard bud through the material.
You moan.
It’s too late to pretend you’re not soaked, that you’re not manically pleased with their attraction, with the feel of their hard bodies pinning you between them, that you don’t want this so bad.
No one will know.
No one has to.
It’ll be your dirty, little secret that you’ll pull whenever you’re at your very lowest.
With that decision made, you surge to kiss Suguru, who wastes no time in deepening the kiss. His tongue pushes in, licking and tasting. He’s readily groping your tit under the top, pinching and flicking your nipples. Satoru squeezes the other, lifting it out of the water to suck at it, uncaring of the taste of sea water.
Too much is happening at once.
It’s crazy.
Insane.
And so fucking good.
Suguru shoves Satoru back so he can slide his hand inside your bottom. He finds your clit with ease, spreading your puffy lips with two fingers and rubbing the bundle of nerves with the middle. All while, his lips haven’t left yours. He’s sucking all your oxygen out, threatening to drown you in his taste.
Somewhat aggrieved, Satoru complains, “Hey! Don’t monopolise her. You have to share, Suguru!”
You pull away a little to say, “Yes, Suguru. You have to share. Be my good boys, won’t you?”
Both of them groan.
He lets Satoru’s fingers join him in playing with your pussy. Satoru hooks the bikini to the side. His fingers bump into his friend’s before it finds your entrance.
“Ngh! Please! Harder. Deeper,” you mewl.
Satoru’s fingers are so long. They’re stretching your pussy out, inch by inch, till they’re buried at the hilt and curling up against that gummy spot inside you that has you seeing starfishes in your hazy vision.
In tandem, they finger you — one massaging your g-spot and making good on his promise at being skilled at internal massages, and the other rubbing your clit so expertly you can’t do anything but throw your head back and wail wantonly.
One of them, at this point you don’t care who, sucks and licks at the length of your neck.
Where did you get the courage to be so whorish, to boss them around like you’re their mother?
It hardly makes sense to you.
Neither does the searching your hands do under the water.
You find their cocks. One is already out, bobbing. The other you have to maneuver out of its confines in his swim trunks. They both whine your name out when they feel you wrap your hands around their length.
Now, you’re no stranger to dicks.
These two may be bolder and more shameless, but you know how to please a man. You know that you gotta squeeze their cocks just right, gotta rub your palm over their tips, thumb the slit and spread their pre-cum under their cockhead. You know how to toe the fine line between pain and pleasure, and which of them prefers to lean towards the other.
“Oh s-shit,” Satoru stutters.
The other sucks in a sharp breath.
Satoru’s nose pushes your bikini cover off one of your tits. He wastes no time sucking your nipple, but it’s not like how your husband used to suck on your breast. It’s more eager, more feral, as though he’s sure if he sucks hard enough milk will actually come out.
“That’s it, baby,” you mutter, arching your chest out to feed him your breast. “Suck mommy’s titty. Such a good boy.”
In your grip, his cock throbs. So does the other.
Seems like it’s not just Satoru who has a mommy kink.
Despite your relentless attacks on their cocks, their fingers don’t quit. They keep teasing your pussy just right. You ride their wrists. Your moans melt with theirs under the sun’s watchful gaze, and who knows how many other people’s.
If only your husband can see how desired you are, can see your face scrunch up in pleasure he’s never given you, how easily men half his age can find your clit.
“Cum, pretty,” Suguru groans out.
“Yeah,” Satoru says. “Wanna feel you -hah- tighten around my fingers. Wanna know how you’ll feel on my cock.”
Almost as though their voices carry a special power, your body listens.
The orgasm takes you by surprise, not from its suddenness — it’s been building for a while now — but from the sensation itself. It’s been years since your back’s arched, since your toes have curled, your lower belly has cramped, bolts of electricity ran through your veins, and your clit’s throbbed. You hardly recognise the maddening gloriousness. And yet, when it washes over you, it’s a very welcome return.
“T-that’s it,” someone says. “Such a good girl.”
“Mm, bet your husband’s never touched you as good, has he? Bet he’s scared of pussies, which is ironic because he is one,” the other boy snickers.
If they expect you to come to your husband’s defence, then you only disappoint them.
Meanwhile, your hands haven’t stopped. They only jerk them off faster and harder, till their snarky words die out and turn into whimpery moans.
Soon, they cum at the same time.
Ropes of pearlescent cum jet out into the water, dissipating.
The three of you stumble onto a massive rock in the water you hadn’t even realised you’d been hiding behind. How long ago did you get pushed over here, far from the rest of the beach where it’s most crowded? Does it matter?
Here, seemingly a mile away from where you started, the water’s at thigh level.
You’re so heated everywhere you can’t even tell the difference between the warm water and the warm air. It’s all the same to you now, especially when you’re distracted by the unceasing roving of their hands which touch you everywhere they can reach.
“Where are your manners, boys? Didn’t anyone tell you to buy a girl dinner first?”
Satoru bites his smiling lip.
Suguru chuckles.
“You are our dinner.” The former smashes his face into yours, robbing you of breath. “You’re absolutely stunning. The literal woman of my dreams,” he says in between kisses, when you need to gulp for air. “Knew as soon as I saw you from afar that I wanted you to spank me, to ruin my life.”
That’s a real nice thought…
With an innate rhythm, they swap places — Suguru’s now in front of you, pressing gentle kisses on your cheeks and on your jawline, whilst Satoru’s groping your tits from behind. He rubs his already-growing-hard cock on your ass.
Oh, the wonder of youth.
Suguru rests his big hand on the back of your head. “Down, pretty. Put your ass out for me.” You allow him to push you down. You hold onto Satoru’s thigh, addicted to how you’re being bossed around by men younger than you, bent into place for their use. When satisfied, he says, “Such a well-behaved mother you are. I’m sure your kids take after you, huh?”
He palms the globes of your ass, thumbs tucking under your bikini bottom as he appreciates the roundness of your behind.
In front of you, Satoru’s jerking himself off. A bead of pre pools out from his bubblegum pink tip. He taps the cockhead on your lips. You kitten lick his slit, making sure to really get in here. He lets out a, “Jeez, your husband’s an idiot. He’s missing out on a special grade woman here.” He peers down at you, grinning. “Is your mouth as talented as the rest of you, mama? Gonna suck my dick, hmm?”
What choice do you have other than to take that impressive cock down your throat?
Opening your mouth nice and wide, you try to swallow as much of his length as you can. Satoru holds your face in place so he can push himself in little by little. He tastes salty, but you can’t tell if it’s because of his skin, his pre-cum, or because of the sea. Maybe all three.
Behind you, Suguru’s breath blows on your sensitive skin. “Gonna let me taste you, pretty girl?”
“Tell me how hot MILF pussy is, Suguru,” his friend demands, pale abs contracting with the fight not to cum too soon. His muscular thighs help keep your balance, and when you accidentally dig your nails too hard after he hits the back of your throat by accident, you’re surprised to hear him whimper, “Ngh, mommy!” Then he groans. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing.”
Suguru laughs. “Embrace the kink, Satoru. You’re not fooling anyone.”
“Shut up.”
It’s weird, now that you think about it, that someone other than your children is calling you mommy. Even weirder than it’s not a child at all. Though oddly, you don’t mind it. Perhaps you’d even go as far as to say that it’s turning you on.
What can only be Suguru’s nose traces your slit through the swimsuit. His hands grip your thighs, squeezing the ample flesh there like it’s a stress toy. A drop of trepidation clutches your chest; what if you smell bad? What if they find the pussy that’s birthed three children unattractive?
When he gets his fill of your scent, and lets out an, “Oh god,” your worries evaporate in the scorching heat of his undeniable desire for you.
You expect him to pull the gusset to the side, just as Satoru had done earlier, but he surprises you instead by untying, with far too much ease, your bottoms entirely. Cool air wafts through your heated folds. Your whole body shakes.
What if someone wanders over to where you three are?
There’ll be no hiding, no explaining why you’re bare down there.
Suguru parts your lips for his eyes and you forget all about the law. He says, “Her pussy’s as pretty as the rest of her, Satoru. So wet and needy. And look at her adorable clit, pulsing my name.”
“You mean, my name,” Satoru counters, hips rutting inside your hot mouth. He pets your hair and coos down at you, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Loves Young Dick? Mrs. Hates Her Husband’s Tiny, Wrinkled Dick?”
He’s having too much fun lording his power over you. He needs to be punished — you massage his balls with one hand, rolling the heavy sack in your palm, and allowing your fingers to brush over the puckering hole hidden away.
“S-shit!”
Satoru’s knees quiver, threatening to buckle from under him. An attack on his tip with your swirling tongue, on his balls, and his asshole is too much for anyone, no matter how virile. But you don’t want him to cum yet. It’d be too early so you let his balls go and focus on staying balanced behind the big rock that covers all three of you from view of the whole beach.
A tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance, scooping a mouthful of your overflowing wetness.
Suguru groans.
His whole face is buried between your cheeks, lapping up your juices as though he’s dehydrated. That skillful tongue of his rubs your clit in tight circles just how you like it, giving enough pressure for you to feel already close to cumming.
It flicks up and down, pushing the nerves there to their limits.
Your legs quiver. You shuffle on your feet, undecided between pushing back so he’d get even deeper or pulling away from the unbearable bliss. Your moans come out muffled. The vibrations have Satoru’s hips jolting deeper inside you, bruising your throat.
Suguru worms the wet appendage in your cunt, licking your pillowy walls. He moans straight inside you. You feel the vibrations there shoot through your body, up your spine, and go straight to your head.
Someone, or both of them, plays with your swinging tits. You don’t have it in you to feel any embarrassment at how they’re saggier than the breasts women their age have. Not when they make no mention of it. Only the sounds of their pleased groans at the feel of every part of you reaches your ears.
They pull both of your tits out of the confines of the bikini top, allowing them easy access to your nipples, which they rub and pull and flick as they please.
Distantly, you can still hear the thrum of life on the beach, of people playing in the water, of waves crashing on the rocks. Under you, the mid-thigh level water gently laps at your body, grazing your nipples delectably.
“She tastes like the finest wine, Satoru,” Suguru says. His hand has rounded your belly, pressing up at your pelvis. You gasp around his friend’s cock. The urge to pee has arisen, and it’s making you delirious.
Above you, he makes a disgusted sound. “Ugh, don’t describe her pussy juice with alcohol. Describe it in terms of candy. How sweet is she, Sugu?”
“The sweetest,” he answers, unbothered by Satoru’s peculiar demands. “Here, taste her.” Suguru stands, rubbing his bare cock over your drenched pussy lips. His cockhead catches on your clit and you find your hips grinding back, seeking out that incredible hardness.
You don’t know what happens above you. But you can imagine, from the sudden wet smacking sounds and the dirty groans they both make, that Suguru’s giving Satoru a taste of your pussy which he had collected on his tongue. Somehow, that has you clenching on air.
“Sweet,” Satoru gasps. “So sweet. Fuck, Suguru, I can’t take any more of this. I wanna feel her. Wanna be inside her.”
“Me too,” Suguru says, grabbing his cock and tapping it up against your clit. You feel wet strings form and break, splashing a little onto your skin. Or maybe it’s just the sea.
Satoru pulls himself from your throat, jerking his cock at the sight of your swollen, glossy lips which the tip is bumping. Finally, you get a reprieve for your sore throat. You greedily gulp air down, overwhelmed by the devastating emptiness you find inside you now.
The other man gathers your wet hair and tugs you up, back flushed against hard chest. Satoru squeezes your heaving tits, bending down to blow raspberries between. He’s motorboating you. Like an idiot.
Just as Suguru had done to you, you yank him by his hair and drag his face to yours. You kiss him. He quickly reacts, moaning into your mouth. It’s a sloppy kiss. All tongue, saliva dripping down chins, and at one point, he even sucks your outstretched tongue like it’s a cock.
It’s obvious these boys must have been playing with themselves when they don’t have a woman to torture.
Lucky.
“Up,” Suguru says.
You jump into Satoru’s arms, legs wrapping around his narrow hips. Wet tits get squashed against his chest. Hard nipples scrape slippery skin.
Someone cock prods your pulsing entrance. You pant for it, desperate to feel full, to feel cock that isn’t your husband’s, cock that you know will reach the deepest parts of you and will have you feeling it for days.
But then…
Another cock prods your entrance too.
“Oh my god,” you breathe out. “You can’t both fit inside me!”
“Shhh, pretty girl. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you. We’ll make it fit,” Suguru says, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck.
“You’re a champ,” Satoru adds, with a shit-eating grin. He licks a stripe up your cheek, as though it’s revenge for what you had done to his no-longer-pink-from-the-slap-only-from-arousal-cheek. “You can take us, can’t you?” he asks. He’s put on that baby voice again. “Mommy won’t disappoint us, will she?”
Swallowing a moan down, you say, “I-I can try.”
“Atta girl,” they say in unison.
Together, they push in.
Your nails dig into Satoru's back, no doubt leaving pink crescents. You grit your teeth. The pressure is intense. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s far too much too fast. You cry out, “I can’t do it!”
Suguru mumbles into your ear, though he’s struggling too, “It’s a-alright. Just breathe.”
You’ve already gone this far, already done things you would have never thought to do before you left the hotel room an hour or two ago. This can’t be where you give up. You want everything they have to offer, and if your boys want to feel you at the same time, then that’s what you’ll give them.
It seems like another hour passes under the blaring sun before they stop pushing in. When you peer down between your body and Satoru’s, you’re bewildered at the sight of his cock not even being half way in.
Yet, they’re satisfied.
For now.
Slowly, they both start rocking in. Gently. Carefully. Testing the waters.
It’s not an easy fit.
Still, nothing could hurt as much as labour, so this isn’t too bad for you. Somewhere beyond the sting, there’s a blooming pleasure. Perhaps born from the depravity of having cocks that aren’t your husband inside you, cocks belonging to men much younger than you, and from being fucked by two men somewhere you could be caught.
Satoru kisses you to distract you from the slight pain at having two cocks impossibly lodged inside you. And as quick as his lips arrived, Suguru’s stealing yours. Then Satoru’s again. Suguru’s. Satoru’s. Back and forth, you alternate between them, becoming lightheaded at the constant twisting and turning and from the sensation of great pressure pushing deeper inside your belly.
Your eyes, which you hadn’t realised had closed, open to find the two boys liplocked. This is what you didn’t get to see though you so badly wanted to earlier — their pink lips wrapping around each other, the glimpses of tongues tangling together, of passionate moans mingling.
They kiss like they’ve been doing this for years.
Their cocks pulse inside you.
You lean close, joining in their makeout. Resembling puzzle pieces, you three slot together perfectly. Tongue meeting each other and you don’t know who’s where and what, only that everything everywhere feels good.
With final groans, they bury themselves to the hilt.
“Oh fuck,” the three of you moan in unison.
Quickly, a rhythm’s built up. They thrusts in turns, as though sawing your gummy walls. With how far they’ve stretched you, you feel your anal walls stimulated by their ploughing, and it’s incredible.
Maybe you should care that they’re not wearing condoms. But you don’t. Because feeling them bare is wonderful — their veins, the ridges, the flared out cockheads that scrape your walls. It’s all so fucking good.
Your clit grinds at Satoru’s pelvis whenever he rams his cock into the very base.
Lips suck your neck, your nape, your tongue, your lips, everywhere they can reach. And you’re pulling hair, scratching backs, bouncing down on cocks in their arms.
“Take a picture of me on this rock.”
The three of you still.
There’s people on the other side.
You can hear them splashing around as they adjust themselves. There’s also laughter. Voices from people their age. They don’t know you’re behind the rock, do they? They haven’t seen a glimpse of you three? Didn’t hear your lewd moaning and the squelching and fwop! fwop! fwopping! of wet skin against wet skin?
In your chest, your heart pounds so loudly you think it might give you away.
“Don’t make a sound,” Satoru mouths. Though as he says that, his hips are still rocking inside you, barely perceptible but definitely there.
Behind you, Suguru’s no better. His hands are playing with your tits, pulling the buds till they stretch out obscenely, till you’re writhing on their dicks and having to bite down on your lip to stop the whines escaping and blowing your cover.
They’re more badly behaved than your kids.
But you’re no rational adult either; you keep bouncing in their arms, riding their cocks as you chase your high. “Don’t -hngh!- stop,” you plead. “It’s so good. So, so, so good!”
Conversations continue on on the other side, as do the clicking of the camera. If they decide to step around the rock, they’re going to get a photo-ful of bare skin, more than what any beach-goers are currently showing.
None of you care.
All the three of you want is to cum.
“D-don’t -fuck- clench down so hard,” Suguru quietly grits out, teeth skimming your shoulder in his effort not to be too loud.
Satoru agrees, long, white lashes fluttering, “Y-yeah, you’re too –hic!– tight already.”
You can’t help it, you wanna say, but what you can only manage is a garbled apology.
In a matter of a couple seconds, your grinding and their thrusting and the moaning and the bouncing speed up to an irregular, erratic rhythm. You’re just doing whatever feels good now, fuck the other people near you.
Their cockheads keep bumping your g-spot, pushing in so deep inside you you swear you can feel them in your lungs. Their lips suck, their tongues lick, teeth bite, fingers pinch and pull, and rub, hands squeezing and groping and yanking, with pleasure building and building and building until it bursts!
Your orgasm hits you like a tempest.
Spasms wrack your body, as do theirs.
The three of you tremble against each other, moaning and groaning under your breaths.
Your toes curl so hard you almost get a cramp. Your back arches till you’re shoving your tits in Satoru’s face, not that he complains — he can smother his high-pitched whimper in the mounds of your breasts. Your pussy pulses in time with their throbbing.
“So tight!” one gasps.
“Can’t -hah- breathe. Can’t -hngh- think!”
Hot cum spurts inside you, in double the serving. They paint your walls white, flooding your cunt, tickling your inside. It drives a mini orgasm out of you. Something just as hot splashes all over your skin and theirs. Is it you, Satoru, the sea?
You lose yourself in them, in their bodies, their taste lingering on your tongue, in the cursed bliss they gifted you.
The very best orgasm of your entire life has pulled you under water, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the sea.
No more sound is made from the other side. Maybe they were scared off by the sounds you three made, maybe they left long ago, maybe they’re still there. At least, no one’s come to bust you face-to-face. No lifeguard yelling and telling you the police is coming, no unfortunate family scarred for life.
It all worked out for itself.
There’s a smile on your face when you’re gently placed back on your feet. It widens after every kiss they leave on your lips in gratitude.
Suguru rakes a hand through his hair, pushing unruly strands back. He mirrors your expression as he touches between your legs. He feels the searing cum dripping out of you, and fucks it back inside with his thick fingers. “Told you we’d make it fit.”
“Yes, you did,” you say, laughing and moaning simultaneously with the last thrums of pleasure left inside you.
Satoru yanks that hand out and shoves it into his own mouth, heartily sucking on the mixed juices. “Mmm. Salty.”
You’re flushed, entranced by the sight.
They’re filthier than any other man you’ve met.
And more gentlemanly too — they find your bottoms for you, putting back it in place, the same with your bikini top, before they tuck themselves back in their shorts. Within minutes, any evidence of your wrongdoings is swept away by the current, with only the sun as your witness.
“Thank you,” you tell them. Sincerity coats the words.
They brought to life something you thought had been dead a long time ago, something that maybe was never alive inside you, something that a loveless marriage had buried. They reminded you you are a woman, not just a wife or a mother.
You have worth.
You have value.
You can start over again.
When wetness clings to your lashes, their gazes soften.
Suguru tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re going to be alright, pretty girl.”
“The whole world’s your oyster,” Satoru adds, nodding proudly. “Always was.”
At the same time, they brush away the tears about to fall. They suck the wetness coating their skin, releasing satisfied sounds at your saltiest taste.
Everything that happens after that is a blur.
Maybe you continued playing in the water with them for another couple hours. Maybe you fucked them in turns. And at the same time again. Maybe you went back to your lounge chair straight away and napped the rest of the time.
It’s hard to tell.
The only thing you remember after is being woken up by your three children shaking you.
You stand, stretching your weary limbs, cover-up forgone. Your parents look tired, the kind of tired a long day taking care of children creates, which you know all too well. You give them an apologetic smile. They reject it with a shake of their heads, as though saying, ‘you never need to thank us.’
“Mommy, mommy, we collected sea shells and got ice cream and buried granddad in the sand!” one of them tells you, pulling at your arm. “We had the greatest day ever!”
You smile down at him. “Oh, very good, sweetheart.”
“It was awesome!” the middle child chimes. “A seagull tried to take my sandwich but I shooed it away, mommy!”
“How brave,” you say, pinching his chubby cheek.
The oldest gives you a disappointed look. “Were you just sleeping, mommy? That’s not good. You wasted a whole day at the beach!”
Ruffling her hair, you say, “You got me. But I don’t think it was a waste.”
Though you feel thoroughly spent, you’re pleased to discover a renewed energy inside you. You pack up faster than you thought you would, you chat with your kids and catch up with your parents, and look forward to dinner, musing what it’d be.
To all three of them, and to your parents, you ask, “Okay, ready to go back to the hotel?”
Their simultaneous yawns are your answer.
Your family makes its way to the road back, trudging, exhausted, through the heavy sand with the sun about to set and people staying back to watch the sky explode in orange and pink.
Bags in your arms, you look back, unable to resist the allure.
The two of them are already looking at you. They’re dressed in the same clothes they had been when they first introduced themselves — hoodie adorned, hair tied up, and sunglasses on. They lift the coconut cups they were sipping high up in the air in what you know to be both a salute and a goodbye.
One of your kids grabs your attention.
Something calls you to look back one more, only seconds later. When you do, you’re not very shocked to find them gone from their place at the hut. Disappeared. As though they were never there in the first place.
In the distance, on the water which reflects the sun’s warm glow back, you see two sparkles, like stars that guide lost souls in the dark.
You face forward, smiling.
You can’t explain what happened today to anyone. Not when you can’t even explain it to yourself. It can just remain as a precious memory, one that might fade into a thing that you’ll convince yourself was real when it starts to feel like a dream. After all, there’s a beauty in forgetting the details, of the hows and the whos and the where and whens, but not the why.
Because the why will forever be engrained in your very soul.
Safe to say, then, you won’t be forgetting about your day at the beach any time soon.
You can mark it as the day you decided to file for divorce.
Synopsis: abandoned at the beach by your potentially-cheating husband, you're left up for grabs for two young men who don't seem to care that you're older, a mother, and married. in fact, that only seems to excite them more as they seduce you to abandon your morals.
Warnings: porn with the tiniest plot, reader cheats on her husband, SatoSugu action wink, threesome, public/trying not to get caught sex, milf!reader, hinted to be chubby!reader, age gap (reader is late 30s/early 40s and SatoSugu is in their 20s), reader's husband is mean (he's barely in this but I hope it's not triggering to anyone), double penetration, creampie, thighjob, fingering, unethical behaviour all around, mommy kink heavy, spit roasting, blowjob/deepthroating, face slapping, masochist!gojo, subby!gojo, femdom in parts, pússy inspection, hair pulling, cunnilingus, a little anal play, SatoSugu art by @/wacuoms on X, not proofread
Word Count: 8.4k
“Did you really have to wear that?”
You scan your eyes down your own body, more specifically the bikini you’re wearing. A little reluctant to know, you ask, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
To your right, your husband gives you a disgusted scoff. “You’re dressed like a whore without the body for it. You’re a mother, for Christ’s sake. Must you embarrass yourself and me?”
Ah.
So that’s why he regarded you so coldly, after you stepped out of the bathroom to get changed, back in the hotel. But if he thought you were dressed inappropriately for your age and size, why didn’t he say anything before? Why did he have to wait until you’re all situated on the beach, when you’ve already walked five minutes, when you’ve been laying here for almost an hour, and when people can hear him?
Self-conscious, you wrap your beach cover-up tighter around your body. You felt good before he opened his mouth. You were energised by the wonderful weather, the excitement of your children, and the thrill of wearing something revealing in a place where people won’t bat an eye. Now, you just feel like a beached whale.
“Mommy! Mommy! Look, I’m making a sand castle!” your youngest calls out.
You give him a shaky smile. “Very good, sweetheart.”
Around you, the beach hums with life.
The air is thick with salt and sunscreen, warm and golden under a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at. Palm trees lean lazily in the distance, leaves whispering whenever the breeze rolls in from the water. The ocean itself glitters, waves folding over one another in soft, rhythmic sighs as people wade in and out.
There are bodies everywhere.
Girls in tiny bikinis stretched out on towels, skin oiled and glowing, sunglasses perched perfectly on their noses as they giggle at something on a phone screen. Groups of boys toss a volleyball back and forth, all tanned shoulders and easy confidence, shouting over each other when someone misses. Couples lie tangled together, limbs draped carelessly, as if the heat has melted them into one another.
You feel…out of place.
Not because anyone’s looking. Not really. Most people are too absorbed in themselves. But it’s in the contrast. The flat stomachs, unwrinkled skin, the couples on honeymoons or anniversary holidays flaunting their undying love.
In comparison, you’ve aged. Your body’s turned curvier from the children you’ve birthed, you’ve got pudge everywhere, and it’s why your husband hasn’t touched you in months.
No.
Years.
He’s probably cheating, you think. All the signs are there — keeping his phone on him at all times, working overtime very frequently, a feminine scent lingering on his clothes that doesn’t belong to you, never pestering you for sex that lasts three seconds, if you’re lucky.
Oddly enough, you don’t really mind. Sex with him has never really felt very good for you and you’ve long stopped finding him very interesting. The love that was there, that resulted in your three beautiful children, has faded. You’ve become that couple that only stays together for the children.
A tale as old as time.
What bothers you most is how he can’t at least pretend to stomach your presence; he always has to make some snide comments to you, as if he’s a spring chicken, as if he has abs and a head full of hair.
The nerve.
When you glance over at him, you see he’s typing on his phone. Again. No doubt talking shit about your audacity to wear a two-piece swimsuit at your age to his mistress, whoever she is. He even has a tent growing in his swim shorts. Whatever she sent him must be good.
Clearing his throat, he sits up from his loungechair. “I have to go back to the hotel room. Um, a work thing popped up. I’ll see you later, honey.”
He doesn’t even wait for your reply before he skedaddles.
You sigh.
“Mommy,” one of your children says just metres away from you, “Granddad and Grammy are gonna take us for a walk. Is that okay?”
Your parents, despite their age, are much more active than someone your age. They came with you on this holiday. Perhaps because they know how your relationship with your husband is. You’re grateful for their company and for their help.
They smile at you, holding your children’s hands. Thank god for them because three children by yourself in this heat and in this crowd would be overwhelming as hell.
With a nod, you reply, “Yes, of course, sweeties. You go easy on them, okay? Do as they say and don’t go running off on your own.”
The three of them cheer.
Taking one of the bags with their goggles, armbands, water bottles, and children-friendly sunscreens, they go off on a little adventure. At least your kids are happy. That’s everything.
You’re left on your own on the lounge chair, partially shaded by the parasol.
Maybe you’ll read for a bit, nap, listen to some beach music — anything’s possible now it’s just you. A little peace and quiet will be nice. Yeah, it’ll be nice. That’s all a housewife like you can do anyway. You certainly can’t go parasailing or rent a speedboat, can you?
The thought has you chuckling to yourself.
“What’s funny, gorgeous?”
You jolt.
On the lounge chair beside you, the one your husband was occupying, is no longer vacant.
One man, with long hair tied up in a bun, is sitting facing you. There’s another behind him, one with white hair and pure black sunglasses, lying under the umbrella. When had they gotten here? Where did they come from? And how long have they been there?
The white haired man tilts his head to look at you over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m in the mood to laugh, so please, share with the class.”
Confused, you sit up. “Excuse me?”
Man-bun gives you a small smile. “Where are our manners?” He gestures to himself. “I’m Suguru.” He gestures behind him. “This is Satoru.”
You introduce yourself, though you know you shouldn’t.
They’re much younger than you are, you can tell. They have abs, which anyone can see through the sliver of the opening of their hoodie and tropical shirt; mischievous smiles that say they’re no strangers to trouble; and hungry eyes that are scanning your body up and down.
What do they want?
Satoru yawns, long limbs stretching. “We overheard your shitty husband running his mouth. He always like that? Y’know, spewing lies?”
God, you knew people could hear him berating you. It’s one thing behind closed doors, but it’s another to be perceived by outsiders. These two young men must have felt so bad for you they came over to make you feel better. How humiliating.
Cheeks heating up, you try to shoo them away. “I’m not sure what you want from me, but there’s nothing I can give you.”
Suguru tries to hide his smile between his hand. He muses, “Oh, I’m not sure about that — you look like you’re more than an expert in wrangling two unruly boys.”
There’s an undertone in his words that has you on edge.
Are they flirting with you?
You struggle for words, unsure of what to say. On one hand, it’s inappropriate for someone your age to be entertaining men younger than you, especially when you’re married and a mother. On the other hand, the attention is nice. You haven’t had men expressing their interest in you in a while. And they’re very good looking boys.
Drop dead gorgeous, actually.
Maybe you’ll let them stay, converse for a bit until they get bored and leave. It’s not like your husband will be coming back any time soon. And he’s doing much worse right now. A little harmless fun won’t be so bad, right?
“So you’re here with family?” Suguru, the more polite of the two, asks.
“Yeah,” you answer, sipping some water from your bottle, “just a little family holiday before the start of school. And you two?”
Satoru waves the question off with a lazy hand. “No, no, we live here. You can say this is our domain and you’re all trespassing, but we’re more than happy to have a beauty like you wandering around.”
The compliment has you flushing. “Oh, hush you.”
“No, we’re serious,” Suguru says, gesturing over your body. “Every part of you looks too good to eat.”
“We’ll certainly still do though,” his friend adds, laughing.
Despite how awkward you feel talking to two people out of your age range, you find yourself laughing along too. Yeah, this is completely harmless, you think. They’re just boys finding it funny to mess around with the tourists. Boys their age want a romp, anything exciting to brag to their friends about.
And you’re surrounded by strangers you’ll likely never see again.
Let’s see how far this can go.
Playing along, you sultrily ask, “Oh, and you think you can handle a woman like me? I’d eat you for dinner.”
“Promise?” they respond in unison.
They’re eager, that’s for sure.
Practically drooling at the sight of you. They even lick their lips when you sit up straighter, tits bouncing with the movement.
Maybe this isn’t a good idea…
Maybe they think you’re being serious, that you’ll actually let them have a taste.
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you give them understanding smiles. “Look, boys, I appreciate your interest. Really. But I’m too old for you. There’s plenty of young girls around thou—”
“Blergh.”
Satoru picks up the sunscreen from the little table between your two seats. He throws his sunglasses off and eyes the ingredients on the label. “When was the last time you reapplied?” he asks suddenly.
“I can’t remember,” you respond honestly, blinking at how they ignored your rejection.
Suguru shakes his head, tutting. “That’s not good enough. Very bad, actually. Very, very bad.”
Your skin’s just fine, you want to say, but any reassurance dies out on your tongue when they stand and circle you like wolves. From down here, they look so much taller. You can see their flawless skin more clearly now, can see the hard ridges of their tight body, and the softness.
Whereas your husband is flabby, hairy, and rough everywhere.
From your youth, you remember how wonderful it was to feel softness weighing you down, the energy only young men have, and their eagerness to please. It’s a life in the past come back to the present. Your thighs press together.
They notice.
The two exchange knowing looks, punctuated by victorious smiles.
You just gave them the go-ahead they’ve been looking for.
They both come to kneel beside you. You’re blocked from either side. Trapped. Landlocked. Prey to their hunt.
“Wait a minute,” you say, panicked, when your covering is yanked off your body. You try to cover yourself with the towel from under you but they’re not giving you any room to move. “What’re you two doing!”
Suguru pinches the strings of your bikini bottoms, not pulling, just twirling the flimsy thing as though aware of how easily he could bare you to him. He casually says, “Oh, we’re just doing our duty and preventing skin cancer; the sun’s a killer, haven’t you heard, pretty?”
Meanwhile, Satoru squirts a fat dollop of sunscreen into his palm. He grins down at you. “Maybe that’s what he’s doing — I’m gonna feel you up.”
“I’d turn over very quickly if you don’t want him groping your tits…yet,” Suguru warns, amused.
Right as those pale hands are about to make contact on your skin, you flop onto your belly like a fish. They land on your back with an, “Awww.”
You wince.
His hands are cold. They rove over your back with no hesitation. Satoru whistles. “You’re so soft! I wanna just gobble you up.”
This isn’t so bad, right? After all, you’ve always had trouble getting sunscreen on your back. Gulping nervously, you mutter, “Let’s keep this cute, you two. You’re only reapplying sunscreen. That’s it, alright? No, coping a feel.”
Behind you, someone snorts.
“Sure,” they say in unison with no real conviction behind the syllable.
Another pair of hands joins you. They’re cold too. It massages the oily thing on your back, taking over for the other pair which has ventured to your legs. They’re good at this — they’re pushing knots away, untightening the tension in your body, and applying just the right amount of texture to have you releasing low, satisfied moans.
People must be looking at you weirdly; you were just with your family five minutes ago. Now you’re being touched up by men probably half your age.
But, for all their teasing, they are respecting your boundary.
Until they aren’t.
It starts off slow at first, very light and almost not there. For a minute, you can actually convince yourself they’re just being helpful. Although, you’re vaguely conscious of hands coming under the bow of your bikini top with the excuse of needing to get even the areas that won’t see the sun. The other pair climb up to your thighs, delving into the inner parts, forcing your legs apart.
You’re on edge, unable to let the tempting sleep take you.
At every second, you’re aware of exactly where they’re touching, of who is. You can tell the difference: Satoru is more rushed, more excited. He wants to feel all of you all at once. Whereas, Suguru is more languid, more leisurely. He takes his time. He wants you to feel him.
“Feel good?” one of them asks.
“Mmm.”
“Yeah, of course you’re feeling good. Who doesn’t like to be massaged?” the other says, arrogant. “You know, we’re good at internal massages too.”
Biting your lip, cheek smushed on the towel, you say, “Behave, Satoru.”
He groans, hands gripping your thighs tight. “That’s so fucking hot.”
“Careful,” Suguru drawls. “Your mommy kink is showing.”
“Mind your own business, Suguru.”
That’s when they start growing bolder — the hands at your thighs creep up higher, gripping you in pulses, whilst the hands on your back slide down the sides, fingertips grazing the plumpness of your breasts which have spilt out. You tense, anticipating their next moves.
A thumb brushes the gusset of your bottoms. You jolt.
In a flash, you push yourself up.
They stare up at you, pupils blown out and eyes tracking your every move. Both of them look annoyed that you’d pulled away just when it was getting good. But you had to. They were about to do something very, very wrong in a very, very public setting.
“I’m going to get in the water,” you tell them, inching away. Your feet sink in the sand. Out of the shade, the sun’s heat engulfs you. Now that you’re free from their broad chests, you notice how the beach isn’t all that crowded. There’s definitely people out and about — families, kids, old people and vendors — just not so many that you can’t breathe.
You could have sworn there were more people minutes ago. Are you relieved that there are less witnesses to your inappropriate indulgement or frightened by the fact there are less witnesses to their hunger?
Suguru nods, rolling a shoulder back. “Yes, good idea. We’ll join you.”
“What?” you nearly shriek. Then, trying to compose yourself, you argue, “No, no. No need. Go and enjoy your day. Do whatever it is kids do these days.”
Satoru’s the first to stand. First to stroll over to you. He throws his jacket behind him. It lands right where you had been lying down. With a shit-eating grin, he spins you around and slings an arm over your shoulders. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re right where we wanna be.”
His friend slinks to your side, also shirtless.
You dig your heels in the sand, tugging yourself away. “On second thoughts, maybe I should go back to my hotel and see how my husband’s doing.”
They share a look.
Then they’re both dragging you to the water.
Maybe they’re strong and you can do nothing against their insistence. Maybe you don’t fight that hard. Whatever the case may be, you end up stepping inside the water regardless.
The small waves lap at your ankles, and soon, with their guiding hands, at your shin, knees, then thighs, hips, waist, and in a blink, you’re mostly submerged. The sea really is all-consuming.
Their chiselled shoulders and chests are all you can see as they circle you in the water like sharks. There are a few people in the water too, but they’re spread out. No one close enough to hear you thankfully.
“We’ve been eyeing you since you got here,” Suguru confesses, lips grazing the shell of your ear as he presses close behind you. He grips your waist, inching up a little.
You’re even closer to them than before — they’re tall, strong, carved by the heavens, truly blessed. So why are they here, with you? Why you when there are so many younger, prettier girls?
Satoru’s hands find your hips under the water, he yanks himself to you. “Couldn’t stop looking at you in this sexy bikini. We’ve been hard since. Like, really, really hard.”
They sandwich you between them, between two men who are young enough to be your friends’ children. Or your own. With a shake of your head, you attempt to scold them: “Now, boys, this is very bad of you. I’ll overlook this just once so you can go on your way and your parents won’t have to know.”
One of them snickers. He looks over your head to talk to his friend. “Parents? She thinks we’re kids.”
Suguru leaves a scalding kiss on your bare shoulder. You gasp. He says, “We’re grown men, pretty. We’re all adults here. What are you so worried about?”
The three of you are swaying in the water. The salty scent of the sea is hitting your nose, dizzying. In the distance, you hear people’s laughter and their light conversation. The world is turning, though it feels like it’s paused for you.
“Maybe I’m worried about the boners you’re grinding against me,” you retort, flustered. You’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to pretend you can’t feel two hot and heavy things poking your back and your stomach. But they make it impossible to when they’re grinding it against your body so shamelessly.
To make a point, Satoru moves your hips on his body. He’s rubbing you up on his boner, face buried in his chest with the water tickling your collarbone. He makes a pornographic moan, partly to tease you and partly because it’s helping his boner.
In a panic, you scan the area for anyone who might have heard.
No one’s looking.
He says, “I wanna feel good. Don’t you wanna feel good? Wanna do something about the boners you’ve given us? Y’know, take responsibility and all that?”
At first, you wanted to dispute his second question; you did not give anyone anything, let that be clear. But his main question echoes in your head.
You do want to feel good.
By god, do you.
You haven’t felt good in years. You’ve forgotten what it even means to feel good. Still, this is wrong. It’s all shades of wrong, and you can’t let yourself get swept up. So you weakly reply, “I’m a mother.”
“Mmm, that makes no difference to us,” Suguru says. His hands are right under your heavy breasts now, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the fat that can’t be contained by the flimsy material. He weighs them in his palms, bouncing them up and down. Above the water, the tops emerge, all wet and shiny. Satoru can’t tear his eyes away. His friend continues, "Though, between you and me, he might actually really like that fact.”
Satoru doesn’t deny that. He only ruts his cock harder against your stomach through the thin layer of his shorts.
“I’m much older than you,” you say, reaching for anything that might dissuade them.
The man in front of you snorts. “Duh. We can tell that much.”
You don’t know why that offends you. But it does.
Before you can process what you’re doing, your palm makes contact with his cheek. Redness blossoms on the pale surface. Satoru’s face has whipped to the side. He blinks, processing what just happens, as you do. A tongue pokes through the injured cheek. He tests the sting, the corner of his lip twitching.
Someone laughs behind you. “You’ve done it now, pretty girl.”
When bright blue eyes pierce you — an almost deranged smirk warping his face into something older, something more authoritative than you — you realise the truth behind Suguru’s remark.
You really have done it now.
“You’ve given me a booboo,” he says, putting on a baby voice to mock how you hide between the age difference. “You should make me feel better, right, mom-my?”
“Oh goodness…”
His hands leave your hips, fumbling for something in the water. Though the water’s clear, you can’t bring yourself to look down. So it comes as a surprise to you when a long, hot thing slots itself right between your thighs, with the help of Suguru who lifts you up with ease in the water.
Satoru smushes his face right in between your tits which are drying under the sun now. He thrusts his cock back and forth, rubbing your clothed pussy. A fat cockhead nudges your clit on every return.
You’re panting, holding onto any part of them for purchase. “Wait,” you breathe out. “I’m married! I’m married!”
Too busy mouthing at the salt on your skin, Suguru instead has to reply, “We don’t care. We really. Fucking. Don’t.”
“Yeah,” his friend says, resurfacing from your tits to throw his head back with a groan. The water’s lapping more aggressively, disrupted by his thrusting and your squirming. “Your husband’s an ass who can’t appreciate when he has a great one right in front of him. If he won’t make you feel good, we will.”
“That’s right,” Suguru adds. He grips your chin and brings you to look at him. His lips touch your lips. He whispers against them, “You just have to let us.”
One of his arms is wrapped under your breasts, pushing them up for Satoru to rest his face on as he keeps rubbing his cock between your thighs. The other releases your chin to grope one tit. His blunt nail scratches a hard bud through the material.
You moan.
It’s too late to pretend you’re not soaked, that you’re not manically pleased with their attraction, with the feel of their hard bodies pinning you between them, that you don’t want this so bad.
No one will know.
No one has to.
It’ll be your dirty, little secret that you’ll pull whenever you’re at your very lowest.
With that decision made, you surge to kiss Suguru, who wastes no time in deepening the kiss. His tongue pushes in, licking and tasting. He’s readily groping your tit under the top, pinching and flicking your nipples. Satoru squeezes the other, lifting it out of the water to suck at it, uncaring of the taste of sea water.
Too much is happening at once.
It’s crazy.
Insane.
And so fucking good.
Suguru shoves Satoru back so he can slide his hand inside your bottom. He finds your clit with ease, spreading your puffy lips with two fingers and rubbing the bundle of nerves with the middle. All while, his lips haven’t left yours. He’s sucking all your oxygen out, threatening to drown you in his taste.
Somewhat aggrieved, Satoru complains, “Hey! Don’t monopolise her. You have to share, Suguru!”
You pull away a little to say, “Yes, Suguru. You have to share. Be my good boys, won’t you?”
Both of them groan.
He lets Satoru’s fingers join him in playing with your pussy. Satoru hooks the bikini to the side. His fingers bump into his friend’s before it finds your entrance.
“Ngh! Please! Harder. Deeper,” you mewl.
Satoru’s fingers are so long. They’re stretching your pussy out, inch by inch, till they’re buried at the hilt and curling up against that gummy spot inside you that has you seeing starfishes in your hazy vision.
In tandem, they finger you — one massaging your g-spot and making good on his promise at being skilled at internal massages, and the other rubbing your clit so expertly you can’t do anything but throw your head back and wail wantonly.
One of them, at this point you don’t care who, sucks and licks at the length of your neck.
Where did you get the courage to be so whorish, to boss them around like you’re their mother?
It hardly makes sense to you.
Neither does the searching your hands do under the water.
You find their cocks. One is already out, bobbing. The other you have to maneuver out of its confines in his swim trunks. They both whine your name out when they feel you wrap your hands around their length.
Now, you’re no stranger to dicks.
These two may be bolder and more shameless, but you know how to please a man. You know that you gotta squeeze their cocks just right, gotta rub your palm over their tips, thumb the slit and spread their pre-cum under their cockhead. You know how to toe the fine line between pain and pleasure, and which of them prefers to lean towards the other.
“Oh s-shit,” Satoru stutters.
The other sucks in a sharp breath.
Satoru’s nose pushes your bikini cover off one of your tits. He wastes no time sucking your nipple, but it’s not like how your husband used to suck on your breast. It’s more eager, more feral, as though he’s sure if he sucks hard enough milk will actually come out.
“That’s it, baby,” you mutter, arching your chest out to feed him your breast. “Suck mommy’s titty. Such a good boy.”
In your grip, his cock throbs. So does the other.
Seems like it’s not just Satoru who has a mommy kink.
Despite your relentless attacks on their cocks, their fingers don’t quit. They keep teasing your pussy just right. You ride their wrists. Your moans melt with theirs under the sun’s watchful gaze, and who knows how many other people’s.
If only your husband can see how desired you are, can see your face scrunch up in pleasure he’s never given you, how easily men half his age can find your clit.
“Cum, pretty,” Suguru groans out.
“Yeah,” Satoru says. “Wanna feel you -hah- tighten around my fingers. Wanna know how you’ll feel on my cock.”
Almost as though their voices carry a special power, your body listens.
The orgasm takes you by surprise, not from its suddenness — it’s been building for a while now — but from the sensation itself. It’s been years since your back’s arched, since your toes have curled, your lower belly has cramped, bolts of electricity ran through your veins, and your clit’s throbbed. You hardly recognise the maddening gloriousness. And yet, when it washes over you, it’s a very welcome return.
“T-that’s it,” someone says. “Such a good girl.”
“Mm, bet your husband’s never touched you as good, has he? Bet he’s scared of pussies, which is ironic because he is one,” the other boy snickers.
If they expect you to come to your husband’s defence, then you only disappoint them.
Meanwhile, your hands haven’t stopped. They only jerk them off faster and harder, till their snarky words die out and turn into whimpery moans.
Soon, they cum at the same time.
Ropes of pearlescent cum jet out into the water, dissipating.
The three of you stumble onto a massive rock in the water you hadn’t even realised you’d been hiding behind. How long ago did you get pushed over here, far from the rest of the beach where it’s most crowded? Does it matter?
Here, seemingly a mile away from where you started, the water’s at thigh level.
You’re so heated everywhere you can’t even tell the difference between the warm water and the warm air. It’s all the same to you now, especially when you’re distracted by the unceasing roving of their hands which touch you everywhere they can reach.
“Where are your manners, boys? Didn’t anyone tell you to buy a girl dinner first?”
Satoru bites his smiling lip.
Suguru chuckles.
“You are our dinner.” The former smashes his face into yours, robbing you of breath. “You’re absolutely stunning. The literal woman of my dreams,” he says in between kisses, when you need to gulp for air. “Knew as soon as I saw you from afar that I wanted you to spank me, to ruin my life.”
That’s a real nice thought…
With an innate rhythm, they swap places — Suguru’s now in front of you, pressing gentle kisses on your cheeks and on your jawline, whilst Satoru’s groping your tits from behind. He rubs his already-growing-hard cock on your ass.
Oh, the wonder of youth.
Suguru rests his big hand on the back of your head. “Down, pretty. Put your ass out for me.” You allow him to push you down. You hold onto Satoru’s thigh, addicted to how you’re being bossed around by men younger than you, bent into place for their use. When satisfied, he says, “Such a well-behaved mother you are. I’m sure your kids take after you, huh?”
He palms the globes of your ass, thumbs tucking under your bikini bottom as he appreciates the roundness of your behind.
In front of you, Satoru’s jerking himself off. A bead of pre pools out from his bubblegum pink tip. He taps the cockhead on your lips. You kitten lick his slit, making sure to really get in here. He lets out a, “Jeez, your husband’s an idiot. He’s missing out on a special grade woman here.” He peers down at you, grinning. “Is your mouth as talented as the rest of you, mama? Gonna suck my dick, hmm?”
What choice do you have other than to take that impressive cock down your throat?
Opening your mouth nice and wide, you try to swallow as much of his length as you can. Satoru holds your face in place so he can push himself in little by little. He tastes salty, but you can’t tell if it’s because of his skin, his pre-cum, or because of the sea. Maybe all three.
Behind you, Suguru’s breath blows on your sensitive skin. “Gonna let me taste you, pretty girl?”
“Tell me how hot MILF pussy is, Suguru,” his friend demands, pale abs contracting with the fight not to cum too soon. His muscular thighs help keep your balance, and when you accidentally dig your nails too hard after he hits the back of your throat by accident, you’re surprised to hear him whimper, “Ngh, mommy!” Then he groans. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing.”
Suguru laughs. “Embrace the kink, Satoru. You’re not fooling anyone.”
“Shut up.”
It’s weird, now that you think about it, that someone other than your children is calling you mommy. Even weirder than it’s not a child at all. Though oddly, you don’t mind it. Perhaps you’d even go as far as to say that it’s turning you on.
What can only be Suguru’s nose traces your slit through the swimsuit. His hands grip your thighs, squeezing the ample flesh there like it’s a stress toy. A drop of trepidation clutches your chest; what if you smell bad? What if they find the pussy that’s birthed three children unattractive?
When he gets his fill of your scent, and lets out an, “Oh god,” your worries evaporate in the scorching heat of his undeniable desire for you.
You expect him to pull the gusset to the side, just as Satoru had done earlier, but he surprises you instead by untying, with far too much ease, your bottoms entirely. Cool air wafts through your heated folds. Your whole body shakes.
What if someone wanders over to where you three are?
There’ll be no hiding, no explaining why you’re bare down there.
Suguru parts your lips for his eyes and you forget all about the law. He says, “Her pussy’s as pretty as the rest of her, Satoru. So wet and needy. And look at her adorable clit, pulsing my name.”
“You mean, my name,” Satoru counters, hips rutting inside your hot mouth. He pets your hair and coos down at you, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Loves Young Dick? Mrs. Hates Her Husband’s Tiny, Wrinkled Dick?”
He’s having too much fun lording his power over you. He needs to be punished — you massage his balls with one hand, rolling the heavy sack in your palm, and allowing your fingers to brush over the puckering hole hidden away.
“S-shit!”
Satoru’s knees quiver, threatening to buckle from under him. An attack on his tip with your swirling tongue, on his balls, and his asshole is too much for anyone, no matter how virile. But you don’t want him to cum yet. It’d be too early so you let his balls go and focus on staying balanced behind the big rock that covers all three of you from view of the whole beach.
A tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance, scooping a mouthful of your overflowing wetness.
Suguru groans.
His whole face is buried between your cheeks, lapping up your juices as though he’s dehydrated. That skillful tongue of his rubs your clit in tight circles just how you like it, giving enough pressure for you to feel already close to cumming.
It flicks up and down, pushing the nerves there to their limits.
Your legs quiver. You shuffle on your feet, undecided between pushing back so he’d get even deeper or pulling away from the unbearable bliss. Your moans come out muffled. The vibrations have Satoru’s hips jolting deeper inside you, bruising your throat.
Suguru worms the wet appendage in your cunt, licking your pillowy walls. He moans straight inside you. You feel the vibrations there shoot through your body, up your spine, and go straight to your head.
Someone, or both of them, plays with your swinging tits. You don’t have it in you to feel any embarrassment at how they’re saggier than the breasts women their age have. Not when they make no mention of it. Only the sounds of their pleased groans at the feel of every part of you reaches your ears.
They pull both of your tits out of the confines of the bikini top, allowing them easy access to your nipples, which they rub and pull and flick as they please.
Distantly, you can still hear the thrum of life on the beach, of people playing in the water, of waves crashing on the rocks. Under you, the mid-thigh level water gently laps at your body, grazing your nipples delectably.
“She tastes like the finest wine, Satoru,” Suguru says. His hand has rounded your belly, pressing up at your pelvis. You gasp around his friend’s cock. The urge to pee has arisen, and it’s making you delirious.
Above you, he makes a disgusted sound. “Ugh, don’t describe her pussy juice with alcohol. Describe it in terms of candy. How sweet is she, Sugu?”
“The sweetest,” he answers, unbothered by Satoru’s peculiar demands. “Here, taste her.” Suguru stands, rubbing his bare cock over your drenched pussy lips. His cockhead catches on your clit and you find your hips grinding back, seeking out that incredible hardness.
You don’t know what happens above you. But you can imagine, from the sudden wet smacking sounds and the dirty groans they both make, that Suguru’s giving Satoru a taste of your pussy which he had collected on his tongue. Somehow, that has you clenching on air.
“Sweet,” Satoru gasps. “So sweet. Fuck, Suguru, I can’t take any more of this. I wanna feel her. Wanna be inside her.”
“Me too,” Suguru says, grabbing his cock and tapping it up against your clit. You feel wet strings form and break, splashing a little onto your skin. Or maybe it’s just the sea.
Satoru pulls himself from your throat, jerking his cock at the sight of your swollen, glossy lips which the tip is bumping. Finally, you get a reprieve for your sore throat. You greedily gulp air down, overwhelmed by the devastating emptiness you find inside you now.
The other man gathers your wet hair and tugs you up, back flushed against hard chest. Satoru squeezes your heaving tits, bending down to blow raspberries between. He’s motorboating you. Like an idiot.
Just as Suguru had done to you, you yank him by his hair and drag his face to yours. You kiss him. He quickly reacts, moaning into your mouth. It’s a sloppy kiss. All tongue, saliva dripping down chins, and at one point, he even sucks your outstretched tongue like it’s a cock.
It’s obvious these boys must have been playing with themselves when they don’t have a woman to torture.
Lucky.
“Up,” Suguru says.
You jump into Satoru’s arms, legs wrapping around his narrow hips. Wet tits get squashed against his chest. Hard nipples scrape slippery skin.
Someone cock prods your pulsing entrance. You pant for it, desperate to feel full, to feel cock that isn’t your husband’s, cock that you know will reach the deepest parts of you and will have you feeling it for days.
But then…
Another cock prods your entrance too.
“Oh my god,” you breathe out. “You can’t both fit inside me!”
“Shhh, pretty girl. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you. We’ll make it fit,” Suguru says, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck.
“You’re a champ,” Satoru adds, with a shit-eating grin. He licks a stripe up your cheek, as though it’s revenge for what you had done to his no-longer-pink-from-the-slap-only-from-arousal-cheek. “You can take us, can’t you?” he asks. He’s put on that baby voice again. “Mommy won’t disappoint us, will she?”
Swallowing a moan down, you say, “I-I can try.”
“Atta girl,” they say in unison.
Together, they push in.
Your nails dig into Satoru's back, no doubt leaving pink crescents. You grit your teeth. The pressure is intense. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s far too much too fast. You cry out, “I can’t do it!”
Suguru mumbles into your ear, though he’s struggling too, “It’s a-alright. Just breathe.”
You’ve already gone this far, already done things you would have never thought to do before you left the hotel room an hour or two ago. This can’t be where you give up. You want everything they have to offer, and if your boys want to feel you at the same time, then that’s what you’ll give them.
It seems like another hour passes under the blaring sun before they stop pushing in. When you peer down between your body and Satoru’s, you’re bewildered at the sight of his cock not even being half way in.
Yet, they’re satisfied.
For now.
Slowly, they both start rocking in. Gently. Carefully. Testing the waters.
It’s not an easy fit.
Still, nothing could hurt as much as labour, so this isn’t too bad for you. Somewhere beyond the sting, there’s a blooming pleasure. Perhaps born from the depravity of having cocks that aren’t your husband inside you, cocks belonging to men much younger than you, and from being fucked by two men somewhere you could be caught.
Satoru kisses you to distract you from the slight pain at having two cocks impossibly lodged inside you. And as quick as his lips arrived, Suguru’s stealing yours. Then Satoru’s again. Suguru’s. Satoru’s. Back and forth, you alternate between them, becoming lightheaded at the constant twisting and turning and from the sensation of great pressure pushing deeper inside your belly.
Your eyes, which you hadn’t realised had closed, open to find the two boys liplocked. This is what you didn’t get to see though you so badly wanted to earlier — their pink lips wrapping around each other, the glimpses of tongues tangling together, of passionate moans mingling.
They kiss like they’ve been doing this for years.
Their cocks pulse inside you.
You lean close, joining in their makeout. Resembling puzzle pieces, you three slot together perfectly. Tongue meeting each other and you don’t know who’s where and what, only that everything everywhere feels good.
With final groans, they bury themselves to the hilt.
“Oh fuck,” the three of you moan in unison.
Quickly, a rhythm’s built up. They thrusts in turns, as though sawing your gummy walls. With how far they’ve stretched you, you feel your anal walls stimulated by their ploughing, and it’s incredible.
Maybe you should care that they’re not wearing condoms. But you don’t. Because feeling them bare is wonderful — their veins, the ridges, the flared out cockheads that scrape your walls. It’s all so fucking good.
Your clit grinds at Satoru’s pelvis whenever he rams his cock into the very base.
Lips suck your neck, your nape, your tongue, your lips, everywhere they can reach. And you’re pulling hair, scratching backs, bouncing down on cocks in their arms.
“Take a picture of me on this rock.”
The three of you still.
There’s people on the other side.
You can hear them splashing around as they adjust themselves. There’s also laughter. Voices from people their age. They don’t know you’re behind the rock, do they? They haven’t seen a glimpse of you three? Didn’t hear your lewd moaning and the squelching and fwop! fwop! fwopping! of wet skin against wet skin?
In your chest, your heart pounds so loudly you think it might give you away.
“Don’t make a sound,” Satoru mouths. Though as he says that, his hips are still rocking inside you, barely perceptible but definitely there.
Behind you, Suguru’s no better. His hands are playing with your tits, pulling the buds till they stretch out obscenely, till you’re writhing on their dicks and having to bite down on your lip to stop the whines escaping and blowing your cover.
They’re more badly behaved than your kids.
But you’re no rational adult either; you keep bouncing in their arms, riding their cocks as you chase your high. “Don’t -hngh!- stop,” you plead. “It’s so good. So, so, so good!”
Conversations continue on on the other side, as do the clicking of the camera. If they decide to step around the rock, they’re going to get a photo-ful of bare skin, more than what any beach-goers are currently showing.
None of you care.
All the three of you want is to cum.
“D-don’t -fuck- clench down so hard,” Suguru quietly grits out, teeth skimming your shoulder in his effort not to be too loud.
Satoru agrees, long, white lashes fluttering, “Y-yeah, you’re too –hic!– tight already.”
You can’t help it, you wanna say, but what you can only manage is a garbled apology.
In a matter of a couple seconds, your grinding and their thrusting and the moaning and the bouncing speed up to an irregular, erratic rhythm. You’re just doing whatever feels good now, fuck the other people near you.
Their cockheads keep bumping your g-spot, pushing in so deep inside you you swear you can feel them in your lungs. Their lips suck, their tongues lick, teeth bite, fingers pinch and pull, and rub, hands squeezing and groping and yanking, with pleasure building and building and building until it bursts!
Your orgasm hits you like a tempest.
Spasms wrack your body, as do theirs.
The three of you tremble against each other, moaning and groaning under your breaths.
Your toes curl so hard you almost get a cramp. Your back arches till you’re shoving your tits in Satoru’s face, not that he complains — he can smother his high-pitched whimper in the mounds of your breasts. Your pussy pulses in time with their throbbing.
“So tight!” one gasps.
“Can’t -hah- breathe. Can’t -hngh- think!”
Hot cum spurts inside you, in double the serving. They paint your walls white, flooding your cunt, tickling your inside. It drives a mini orgasm out of you. Something just as hot splashes all over your skin and theirs. Is it you, Satoru, the sea?
You lose yourself in them, in their bodies, their taste lingering on your tongue, in the cursed bliss they gifted you.
The very best orgasm of your entire life has pulled you under water, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the sea.
No more sound is made from the other side. Maybe they were scared off by the sounds you three made, maybe they left long ago, maybe they’re still there. At least, no one’s come to bust you face-to-face. No lifeguard yelling and telling you the police is coming, no unfortunate family scarred for life.
It all worked out for itself.
There’s a smile on your face when you’re gently placed back on your feet. It widens after every kiss they leave on your lips in gratitude.
Suguru rakes a hand through his hair, pushing unruly strands back. He mirrors your expression as he touches between your legs. He feels the searing cum dripping out of you, and fucks it back inside with his thick fingers. “Told you we’d make it fit.”
“Yes, you did,” you say, laughing and moaning simultaneously with the last thrums of pleasure left inside you.
Satoru yanks that hand out and shoves it into his own mouth, heartily sucking on the mixed juices. “Mmm. Salty.”
You’re flushed, entranced by the sight.
They’re filthier than any other man you’ve met.
And more gentlemanly too — they find your bottoms for you, putting back it in place, the same with your bikini top, before they tuck themselves back in their shorts. Within minutes, any evidence of your wrongdoings is swept away by the current, with only the sun as your witness.
“Thank you,” you tell them. Sincerity coats the words.
They brought to life something you thought had been dead a long time ago, something that maybe was never alive inside you, something that a loveless marriage had buried. They reminded you you are a woman, not just a wife or a mother.
You have worth.
You have value.
You can start over again.
When wetness clings to your lashes, their gazes soften.
Suguru tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re going to be alright, pretty girl.”
“The whole world’s your oyster,” Satoru adds, nodding proudly. “Always was.”
At the same time, they brush away the tears about to fall. They suck the wetness coating their skin, releasing satisfied sounds at your saltiest taste.
Everything that happens after that is a blur.
Maybe you continued playing in the water with them for another couple hours. Maybe you fucked them in turns. And at the same time again. Maybe you went back to your lounge chair straight away and napped the rest of the time.
It’s hard to tell.
The only thing you remember after is being woken up by your three children shaking you.
You stand, stretching your weary limbs, cover-up forgone. Your parents look tired, the kind of tired a long day taking care of children creates, which you know all too well. You give them an apologetic smile. They reject it with a shake of their heads, as though saying, ‘you never need to thank us.’
“Mommy, mommy, we collected sea shells and got ice cream and buried granddad in the sand!” one of them tells you, pulling at your arm. “We had the greatest day ever!”
You smile down at him. “Oh, very good, sweetheart.”
“It was awesome!” the middle child chimes. “A seagull tried to take my sandwich but I shooed it away, mommy!”
“How brave,” you say, pinching his chubby cheek.
The oldest gives you a disappointed look. “Were you just sleeping, mommy? That’s not good. You wasted a whole day at the beach!”
Ruffling her hair, you say, “You got me. But I don’t think it was a waste.”
Though you feel thoroughly spent, you’re pleased to discover a renewed energy inside you. You pack up faster than you thought you would, you chat with your kids and catch up with your parents, and look forward to dinner, musing what it’d be.
To all three of them, and to your parents, you ask, “Okay, ready to go back to the hotel?”
Their simultaneous yawns are your answer.
Your family makes its way to the road back, trudging, exhausted, through the heavy sand with the sun about to set and people staying back to watch the sky explode in orange and pink.
Bags in your arms, you look back, unable to resist the allure.
The two of them are already looking at you. They’re dressed in the same clothes they had been when they first introduced themselves — hoodie adorned, hair tied up, and sunglasses on. They lift the coconut cups they were sipping high up in the air in what you know to be both a salute and a goodbye.
One of your kids grabs your attention.
Something calls you to look back one more, only seconds later. When you do, you’re not very shocked to find them gone from their place at the hut. Disappeared. As though they were never there in the first place.
In the distance, on the water which reflects the sun’s warm glow back, you see two sparkles, like stars that guide lost souls in the dark.
You face forward, smiling.
You can’t explain what happened today to anyone. Not when you can’t even explain it to yourself. It can just remain as a precious memory, one that might fade into a thing that you’ll convince yourself was real when it starts to feel like a dream. After all, there’s a beauty in forgetting the details, of the hows and the whos and the where and whens, but not the why.
Because the why will forever be engrained in your very soul.
Safe to say, then, you won’t be forgetting about your day at the beach any time soon.
You can mark it as the day you decided to file for divorce.
The fastest way into Satoru’s wallet pants heart... wallet, is a trick you learned from Suguru early on in your relationship with them.
You keep refreshing the tab on your phone hoping to see the price tag come down on the item of your desires but if anything it feels like it’s only going up, up, up and out of your grasp. You sigh and lock your phone, setting it in front of you on the mattress. You bury your head in your arms, letting go of the dream of owning the illusive item.
Strong hands grip your hips and flip you onto your back, Suguru’s playful expression engulfing your view as he lays on top of you. His face falls when yours doesn’t light up, asking you gently, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s dumb,” you say, shaking your head.
“It’s not dumb if you’re upset. Tell me.” His expression is so soft, so gentle that all you can do is sigh again and confess, showing him the listing on your phone.
“Ask Satoru.” Suguru makes it sound so simple.
Your cheeks heat at the idea of it alone. Realistically, you know you can ask him for anything and he’d happily give it. The insane price tag is what holds you back. There is no way you could ask for something that expensive.
“I can’t.”
“You can.” Suguru sits up at your hesitation, his knees on either side of your hips. “Listen, he’s just a man with a stupid amount of money and what do men with a stupid amount of money like to do? Spend it on pretty things.” He leans forward, his face in yours again to press a kiss to your jaw as he whispers, “That’s us.”
“I can’t,” you repeat, tilting your head away to get a better view of the man sitting on top of you.
Suguru rolls his eyes and huffs. “Do you want it?”
“Not tha-”
“Do you want it?”
“I don’t need it.”
“I didn’t ask if you need it. Yes or no, do you want it?” He raises his eyebrows, making a poor attempt at not smiling while he waits for your answer.
You swallow down your shame, avoiding eye contact as you admit, “yes,” through gritted teeth.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” He presses a kiss to your lips and stands.
You push yourself up on your elbows and watch him free his hair from the bun he keeps it in, long hair falling over his shoulders and down his back. You gulp when his shirt comes off next, nothing you haven’t seen before but god, he’s fucking breathtaking.
6’3 of lean muscle, raven locks down to his waist, sharp jawline and cheekbones.
The kind of beauty that wars have been fought over.
Suguru takes your hand and pulls you to your feet.
“Let me show you how to charm the man who has the money,” he says, guiding you down the hallway and into the living room where Satoru sits on the couch, lost in whatever’s displayed on his phone screen.
You lean against the living room wall, observing the way Suguru moves across the room to settle into Satoru’s lap. He plucks Satoru’s phone from his hand and tosses it to the other cushion, commanding his attention. Satoru’s face blushes a bright, pretty pink as he takes in the sight of Suguru and all of his raw sex appeal.
“Toru, baby,” Suguru purrs, pressing himself closer to Satoru, guiding his hands to his waist. “I need your credit card.”
“Mmm, yeah?” Satoru hums, his hands roaming over Suguru’s sides and around his back to lock him in place. His pupils are already swallowing his irises, glazed over by lust. “What for?”
Suguru cages him against the back of the couch, his hair falling in a curtain around them. He rolls his hips down into Satoru’s just to hear him choke on the air he tries to suck in when their dicks brush; they’re only half hard but it’s enough. “That doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“You’re gonna bleed me dry, gorgeous.” Satoru surges up to plant his lips on Suguru’s, just for Suguru to pull back.
“Who says it’s for me?” Their eyes turn to you, still leaning against the wall. You swallow thickly, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. Satoru chuckles and returns his attention to Suguru, attempting to bring their lips together again. Suguru grabs his jaw before they can connect, just barely letting them brush when he says, “Ah- card first.”
Your clit throbs watching the interaction, completely hypnotized by Suguru the same way Satoru is. You’re pulled out of your trance and forward by Suguru holding out a little silver piece of plastic to you that you take too long to realize is Satoru’s card.
You stumble over your own feet on you way to the couch, gingerly taking the card from Suguru’s out stretched hand. You whisper a ‘thank you,’ and you’re not even sure who you’re thanking or what for, but you press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek regardless as his tongue explores Satoru’s mouth.
You turn to head back to the bedroom and enter the digits on the card into your phone on a somewhat questionable website, only to be stopped by Satoru’s hand grabbing your wrist.
When you turn back to face him, Suguru is leaving open mouthed kisses over his jaw and neck, his chest heaving as he pushes his hips up into Suguru’s.
“At least kiss me before you rob me blind.” He smirks up at you, eyes half lidded. His mouth falls open around a deep moan when Suguru finds a particularly sensitive stretch of skin, and there’s that throb in your clit again.
Your breathing is becoming just as uneven as Satoru’s. You sit next to them, your knees tucked under you and lean forward, your lips capturing Satoru’s.
“Thank you, Toru,” you whisper against his lips when you part.
; yandere, this is based on a cliche trope so do with that as you will, pathetic phainon but #he gets his way, plot device sunday, manipulation, brief mention of self-harm + suicide threat (it's used as a manipulation tactic), proofread to the best of my ability...
; becoming enamoured with phainon is an inevitability that you had no chance of ever resisting. but it stings how he'll never see you beyond a dear friend from kindergarten. the moment you move on, however, begins a shift in your dynamic with him -- he wants you back, desperately so.
; push-and-pull trope with phainon. oneshots masterlist can be seen here.
I. Love is a bitter fruit grown from trees.
“I’m Phainon! What’s your name?”
The first time you met him, his small hand reached out, waiting for you to take it. You did.
A duo is often composed of an extrovert and an introvert: at the age of seven, you knew full well who was who between you and your newfound friend, Phainon. He has a birthmark resembling that of the sun located at the side of his neck. It suits him well, you can’t think of anything but the sun when describing him. He shines like one, is warm like one, and basks everyone with his golden presence like one.
You wondered often: If he is the sun, then what would that make you?
Ideally, you’d be the complementary moon for him. During childhood, you tried to force it down your own throat by using the yellow crayon for him, and the blue one for you in your schoolwork doodles. Sun and moon, yellow and blue, light and dark – phainon and you. Growing up a bit more, you soon came to realise that you are no moon.
You’re more of a sunflower who basks in his sunlight and greedily soaks up all his affection. You’d hate to be the moon, for this meant you’d only rise when Phainon is gone – you prefer staying right by his side, a sidekick he can always count on.
A sidekick wearing your heart on your sleeves, shy but never quite ashamed of the sincere feelings you’ve held for him growing up. A flower bud that slowly unfurls into a full bloom.
As your mother would lovingly refer to you both, you are: “Two birds of a feather!”
Your childhood memories of Aedes Elysiae, blurry some of them may be, are bathed in everlasting gold. While Phainon dragged you off to go play heroes or look through Cyrene’s cards together, you remember dropping pollen of your romantic affection, scattered across planes of time like trails of breadcrumbs left for him to decipher.
While the sun dipped into the horizon, you inched closer to him day by day, the fluttering in your heart evolves into a palpitation you can never stop, and small gifts handcrafted to show your admiration all gently whispered to him to ‘please, take the hint’. But reminiscent of an immovable stone, Phainon remained blissfully oblivious to the signs.
Cyrene certainly got them; her narrowing eyes and poorly hidden giggles as she sent you and Phainon away were enough of a testament. “I’m not feeling well today, you two can go on without me!”
You’d linger at the edge of her front yard, unsure how to proceed with her help. At Phainon’s call however, you move to follow him – “okay, phai!” – trying to contain the dandelion seeds dancing around in your stomach when he leads you by the arm, not letting go despite arriving at your destination. You didn’t want to let go either, even with the sweat building up in your palm.
High school sprouts in your backyard as a tall and looming beanstalk that would force you both to grow up even more.
Phainon’s high-pitched voice starts cracking like eggshells, making way for a deeper tone yet still carrying that warm lilt he always had. You grow taller, still incomparable to Phainon’s own growth spurt, but a good few inches nonetheless. Your sense of style reshapes itself, old interests thrown out for newer ones, and the patch of land where you’d all play heroes together becomes forgotten, the trampled blades of grass outgrowing their original length.
You start favouring the comforts of your room over the blazing heat of the sun, beginning to find sweat as something you can’t stand and only coming out when Phainon pleads with you to do so.
He shines brighter in High School – his presence a beaming beacon of light as he walks through the hallways and enters classrooms. Being the sunflower that you are, you faithfully stayed by his side. Fawning crowds come and go, you don’t.
Your infatuation is exposed to those who aren’t Cyrene; childish people who never grew past the mental age of twelve tried to pick on you for always ‘Sticking to phainon like some damn leech! Don’t have any other personality traits or something?’ – the teasing didn’t last after Phainon punched one of them square in the face. His heroic act only dug your cove of feelings a little bit deeper.
He’s your best friend and first love, a pillar of comfort you grew up with – you can’t imagine your life without Phainon. You pick up more hobbies, he joins more clubs he never expected he would, and you share your new life experiences with each other during lunch. Sometimes separated, but never for too long.
Several months flicker by, and during one of your high school Valentine’s, you received gifts from men who aren’t just Phainon.
Despite his locker overflowing with pink, glittery love notes and heart-shaped chocolates handmade out of sincerity, his gaze was pinned to the white envelope and bouquet of flowers you carried - neither of them is from him. His own gift is already hanging off your backpack, the cute sunflower keychain that it is.
“From a friend?” He asks, finally closing his locker before he risks more glitter explosions on the ground.
“I doubt it,” He’s the only friend you have in this school, embarrassing it is to admit. Cyrene studies elsewhere. “But they’re cute.”
You see his tongue in cheek, and you dare let a seed of hope plant in the root of your heart. Is he… jealous? That makes you giddy. Tentatively, you ask, “You think so too, right, Phainon?”
He grimaces, glancing one last time at the items in your embrace before smiling, “Yeah, they are. Anyway, done with your locker? Let me carry your bag now.”
You nursed that seed of hope from then forth, slowly but steadily hoping more and more for the plausibility that he returns your feelings. It wouldn’t be too far off, surely – even if you’re not meant for each other in the end, you still want to try with him. You water that seed by dropping more subtle hints to Phainon, and you fertilize it by observing your best friend like an animal in a zoo, analyzing his minuscule actions and trying to correlate them to the mannerisms of ‘a guy with a secret crush on his best friend’.
To be young is to be naive.
You didn’t need much. A simple ‘you should go for it! I’ve been rooting for you two since we were all children!’ from Cyrene carved out your decision to confess to Phainon near the end of high school.
In the end, ripped straight from the dramas you watched out of curiosity, you confess to Phainon at the height of spring after getting your high school diplomas; the scent of flowers in full bloom makes you sick with nostalgia and nerves simultaneously. Your family is off conversing with his parents, while you dragged him to a secluded spot in the school.
“Uhm… I’ve liked you for a long time now, Phainon. I’m not expecting you to return my feelings but…” You leave it open-ended, too afraid to settle your confession definitively. You love him, actually - but love is a strong word that some don’t like to acknowledge. For his sake, you won’t either.
A warm, gentle spring can never stay for too long. In the same breath, you, too, are forced to abandon the sunlight you’ve known for several years at the sound of his discordant chuckle – the awkward smile etched on his face as his eyes could only look down at you in what you assume to be pity. You avert your gaze from his blue eyes, opting to stare into his birthmark instead.
“Hey, of course I like you too - you’re my best friend! But we can always stay as friends, (Y/N). You’re dear to me, you know – maybe not… like that, I just don’t want things to change between us.”
You experience the first and biggest heartbreak of your life just hours after graduating from High School. Your best friend Phainon does not reciprocate your feelings and instead wishes for your relationship to stay the same, locked into the tight box of ‘close friends’ he never plans on breaking. The seed-turned-plant of hope in your heart withers down to a sad, pathetic, dried-out flora.
That’s okay. You’ll be attending the same college as him, located far, far away – even if it’s not, you have to be okay.
After a few tense seconds of utter silence, you smile – the most carefree smile you can muster in that moment before enthusiastically nodding at him, “I get it! Don’t worry, Phainon. I totally get it. Uh, hey, I think Cyrene’s calling me. I have to take this phone call for a bit, okay? Let’s meet again later!”
You bury that confession six feet under in your backyard, covered and only seen by inches of soil as you maintain your close friendship with Phainon. Best friends, close friends, friends - you are not to cross these labels unless you want to lose your close companion.
The months of free time leading up to college are nothing unusual, you spend it as you would in the past: Phainon picking you up on the front porch to spend the entire day together. It’s either his or your room where you’ll pour sweating buckets over study materials and banter over multiplayer games on his console.
Your heart still beats like drums just being in his vicinity alone, and it took you days of preparation to act like you’re unbothered when he invites you to his room – the walls and shelves containing time capsules from years before. Pressed white daisies you gifted him on his 10th birthday peeks out as his bookmark, and your kindergarten doodle of him as the sun proudly hangs above his bed, displayed as if it’s an artifact from the Belobog museum.
The most heartwrenching item is the printed photo sitting on his desk: it’s little him kissing little you’s frosting-smudged cheek at your 10th birthday party. The shock on your face is captured and frozen in time, a memory you both laugh about every month or so. 10th birthday… It’s the same age you realized you see him as more than a friend.
Seeing it for the umpteenth time never fails to steal the air from you; the ache never gets easier. You wish you could truly put these romantic feelings to rest in a coffin and seal it shut with a lid, never to be opened again.
“Phainon, next time… let’s spend the day in my room.”
Seeing bits and pieces of you scattered around his room hurts more than him verbally rejecting you.
He grins, all teeth and gums, “Sure!”
Even branches grow into a tree of their own, just as a fledgling must leave its nest.
Spring came and went, high school a chapter closed, and you’re now faced with attending school – college, you remind yourself – an ocean away from the familiar warmth of Aedes Elysiae. The wheat fields that were once taller than you, and Phainon’s house right next door, are all left behind momentarily. You can’t pocket your hometown to bring with you in Penacony, but at least you still have Phainon.
“Everything all settled?” He gently lets go of your dorm’s wooden table, finally in its correct position, “This layout is fine, right?”
“It is,” You hand him a towel, itching to help with wiping off his sweat, “Thanks, Phainon. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to, anything for you.” Anything for his dear best friend. He bumps your side before sitting down on the living room couch. You wanted him to stick around for a while longer, but he’s already out your door the moment he hears knocking – (‘Oh, your roommate is here! I need to go now, remember to call me if you need help, okay?’ he pats your shoulder on the way out).
The patch of skin he briefly touched is still tingling when you see someone walk into the living room, luggage trailing right behind. A tall man with shoulder-length gray hair and kind yellow eyes bows at you in greeting. He’s wearing a white cardigan with a blue sweater layered on top, the color alone reminds you of your best friend despite the difference in shades.
“Hello, pardon my sudden entrance.”
“...Hi.” You don’t know how to talk to people beyond Phainon and Cyrene - standing around here is making you shy. “Uhm, my name is (Y/N)... And you are…?”
“I am Sunday,” His hand extends for a handshake, and you hesitantly follow suit. “It’s nice to meet you. I sincerely hope we get along.”
You nod, staring back into pools of liquid gold while shaking his hand, “...Yeah, let’s. And please don’t mind the succulents on the windowsill.”
II. A close-knit friendship withers in winter, in its place is a new one.
Much to your relief, your late-night fears of college drifting you and Phainon apart never come to fruition. It has the opposite effect, to your surprise. While not overdramatically countries away, Phainon’s dorm room is located a floor above - a notable difference from when he lived right next door to you. The added distance often has him visiting your dorm room unprompted (you kindly gave him a spare key in case of emergencies) and easily greeting a confused Sunday who just finished his classes for the day.
“Call me your third roommate – don’t worry, I help around!” He’d joke. Using your headband to push his hair back, wearing a baggy tee and gray sweatpants, he makes himself at home. Sometimes doing his own homework or brings his gaming laptop along.
After the initial surprise, Sunday doesn’t mind his company – you certainly don’t.
Phainon waits for you outside your room to walk you to your class. He makes sure you sit next to him in the classes you share. He insists you join the same org as him, and predictably, you do.
You thought you buried your less-than-platonic feelings in your backyard; you truly did. But Phainon has your heart racing in excitement, rekindling the dying plant of hope. You still like him – truthfully, you never stopped liking him. But he’s closer to you now, a feat you previously thought to be impossible. The distance of just one floor away makes the heart grow fonder. Dare you say, clingy?
But he still remains your best friend. A clingy, touchy one – but your best friend.
Sunday discusses the topic on a slow, school-less night. You’re in the living room finishing up the last plates needed to be washed when he suddenly chimes in, tone so sure of his words, “Ah yes, I remember now. Please tell your boyfriend to stop entering our dorm past 11 PM. The faculty recently deployed a curfew; it’s best we follow it.”
The ceramic plate in your grasp almost crashes headfirst to the floor. Out of embarrassment, you refuse to turn around and face your roommate. Boyfriend. Boyfriend – only one person is a repeat visitor in your dorm room, and he’s nowhere near being your boyfriend.
Meekly, you set the plate down and correct him, “I’ll inform him, but… Phainon isn’t my boyfriend.”
The silence that wafts through is more humiliation added onto your person. What is Sunday’s facial expression right now? Shocked? Ashamed?
He answers it for you: “I see… This is quite mortifying, my sincere apologies.”
But he continues, “You’re both seen together, and he visits you so often, not to mention the look you give him, I got the idea that…– I’ll be sure to be more observant in the future. Again, my apologies.”
You’re wiping the table clean when you reply, still angling your face away from his eyes, “It’s cool, don’t worry! No harm done! He and I are best friends, yes… the bestest of friends!”
You feel him raise a brow at that, “I don’t mean to pry, however…”
Cyrene always chided you for being a pushover to those around you. In this instance, you hear her disapproving frown when you fold like a wet blanket, “Whatever it is you’re thinking –! I-it’s probably right.”
Wilted sunflower that you are, you mournfully face him with your eyes cast to the floor.
“Ah. You like him?”
You slowly nod, a small part relieved that you now have someone other than Cyrene and Phainon to confide in. “Don’t tell him, please…”
“I won’t.”
His bird-patterned socks enter at the edge of your vision. You slowly look up. Sunday is smiling at you, although a bit tense.
“Perhaps it’s a bit presumptuous of me considering we’ve only known each other for months, but… They say I’m a good listener. If you don’t mind, could you tell me more?”
Sunday is a Borage you unknowingly planted, only just now peaking when you need him most. Sitting side by side on your dorm’s small couch, you gain an outsider’s perspective on your years-long pining toward your best friend. He hears of your rejection and your still-persisting feelings. In the end, the advice he offered to you is:
“He may not be stringing you along, but you still foster optimism in your heart. So long as you have it, you will never move forward past him. If you ask me… confess your love a second time; see if his opinion has changed.”
You gulp, “And if it doesn’t?”
He smiles, gentle as clouds, “Broaden your horizons permanently. Distance yourself if you must; your friendship will pick up once you settle your feelings.”
Winter break is soon; you’ll need to go back to Aedes Elysiae in a few months’ time. However…
“If it’s not too much. A-and I understand if you don’t want to! But, could I ask you to…”
Sunday’s words continuously ring in your mind, repeating circles of “confess your feelings” and “move on,” bouncing off of one another. Coincidentally, Sunday is out for the afternoon when Phainon barges in a week later. Something about groupmates and ‘I wish you were in my group’ going one ear and out the other as you nod at him in autopilot.
He picks up on your unusual behavior not even ten minutes in: brows raised to the sky and eerily getting close and personal with you, surveying your face like it’d shed off all the information he wanted. He retracts a few seconds later, less joking when he inquires, “Something on your mind? Missing Aedes Elysiae?”
Hanging out in your small room like this, laptop opened to play some pirated action movie, and his class notes scattered around your bedsheets like autumn leaves…
You shake your head, feeling the moment to follow Sunday’s advice is now. This is the perfect timing – no one else around to see your heartbroken face for a second time, and no Cyrene to find out you’re still hung up on him.
“Phainon, I…”
He shuffles closer to hear you better – traitorously, your heart clenches in affection.
“Yeah?”
You take a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut, “I think I still like you.”
You downplay your feelings for the sake of self-preservation.
His breath hitches, “Ah, that’s–”
“I’m sorry.” You apologize, remorseful at how uncomfortable he must be right now, “I really tried, but…” A deep breath, “I’ll move on from you soon, I promise.”
“Oh,” He pauses, staring anywhere but you, “Uhm… sure… I’m glad to have you, you know?”
You nod, too fragile to face him.
“...You’re my first and dearest friend. I truly, really liked you, Phainon.” You love him so, so much.
“You’re dear to me too, (Y/N). Forever and now.”
You’ve heard of an overseas concept where a person in an unrequited love begins to sprout flowers from within. You feel like that’s happening to you right now with how unbearable heartbreak is – yellow carnations form from your bleeding heart, wormwood seizes your lungs in a tight embrace, and pink roses mix with your innards. You’d cough out the feeling if you could; empty your stomach from all the flowers and be done with it.
Predictably, he’s quiet for the rest of the movie – immediately coming up with an excuse to leave your dorm room once the end credits begin rolling in. You break down into tears the moment the lock clicks in place. You cry for hours, long enough for Sunday to come knocking on your door, just knowing you managed to do it when he readily offers you one of his giantmoa pudding tarts.
Eyes puffy and snot stubbornly running down your nose, you take a bite and thank him through a mouthful of pastry. It’d taste better if you weren’t so heartbroken. He gently rubs your shoulder in comfort.
“It’ll be alright.”
He’s right– But Phainon has always been by your side, rain or shine. The following months of his absence from your life will be akin to traversing a dark forest with no light source.
But there’s light at the end of the tunnel; a rainbow at the end of the storm. When Sunday bans you from helping with chores that night, you know your heart will heal in time.
“Thanks a lot… sunny.”
He sighs in mock exasperation, “I see you’ve picked up on that nickname too.”
The sun: Hey
The sun: I came by to pick you up, but for some reason, your roommate’s lying?? He said you’re not going back to aedes elsysiae this winter break??? And even denied me entry???
The sun: crazy right
The sun: I’m right outside waiting for you rn
The sun: do you need help packing up? :)
You: No
You: He’s telling the truth.
You: I won’t be visiting for now. Maybe next semester break?
The sun: what
You haven’t read his one-word reply when your phone screen transitions to his contact photo with the text ‘The sun is calling…’ displayed below. You sigh, reluctantly sliding to accept.
Even with speakers turned off, you hear him without pressing your phone against your ear: “What do you mean? Did something happen? Don’t tell me you and Auntie got into a fight…! Don’t worry! I’ll act as the middleman like usu-”
“Uhm, Phainon.” You cut him off.
“Yeah?”
“It’s nothing like that, please don’t worry.”
He makes a sound of confusion, painfully close to a whimper, “So then… why aren’t you visiting our hometown with me?”
‘Because you’ll be there’. “I’m busy with some personal matters here, don’t worry about me. Say hi to Snowy for me, okay?”
“No, I’m absolutely worrying about you – why not? We can visit them next week instead if you’re busy! Why… why miss out on the entire winter break? Won’t you be lonely here?”
“No need, really! Enjoy aedes elysiae for me. And I won’t be lonely… so stop worrying so much, you softie. I have sunny with me.”
“Sunny…? Your… roommate? Sunday? He’s staying here for winter break, too?” He sounds choked up from disbelief; you’d laugh if you weren’t battling against your resurfacing feelings from talking to him on the phone. “Sunday?”
“Yes, he’ll take care of me. I swear!”
“...”
“...Phainon? Hello?” Did the call end already? You glance at your screen, frowning in confusion when you see that the call is still ongoing. Is he lagging on his end? But he’s outside of your dorm.
“If you need anything,” He suddenly speaks up, “Anything – call me, please. If your roommate makes you sad or uncomfortable, tell me right away, okay? I’ll call you again the moment I’m back in aedes elysiae. Stay safe, I love you.”
You flinch at his admission, knowing he didn’t mean it like that. “I know… safe travels, Phainon.”
“Phai.”
“Huh?”
“Call me Phai. Isn’t that what you used to call me when we were kids? Why’d you stop? Let’s bring it back.”
You lie on your bed, pondering. Why did you stop? Perhaps since it was a nickname from childhood, you let go of it and hoped Phainon would see you more than just… his friend since diapers. It didn’t work, clearly. So you don’t mind calling him that shortened version of his name again.
“Okay… Safe travels, Phai.”
Despite your emboldened decision to ask Sunday to stay with you for winter break, you are still, at your core, a floundering, unsociable person. You have your moments of being bold and talkative, but it’s covered by leaves of quietude and slight stutters. Socializing is not your strong suit. You’re not at the stage of being totally buddy-buddy with your roommate, but you’re slowly getting there.
You’re glad you met Sunday. Had it not been for him, you’d still be stuck hopelessly waiting for a day that’ll never come: a phantom of the past who’s deathly afraid of the future.
In the span of your one-month winter break, you get to know him better. Your roommate, who’s a good listener is also an older brother to an idol trainee, has a trio of friends who roomed together a floor below, likes sweet treats, and ran away from his adoptive home after graduating high school.
Your profound respect for him only continued to grow, stalking across your shared living space like vines. While Phainon’s frequent messages, consisting of photos of Snowy and with your family, make your heart twinge in longing, you start ignoring them for the sake of progress. He’ll understand why a year from now, and you’ll both laugh about it like the pair of best friends that you are.
It’s not college that severs you and Phainon – it’s you yourself, but cutting off a branch from your tree does not mean it’s not allowed to grow a new one elsewhere.
III. Regret burgeons when everything is said and done.
Phainon: I feel like you’ve been ignoring me lately
Phainon: did i upset you?
Phainon: :(
The Gen Ed courses you took unfortunately landed you in some shared classes with Phainon, the ‘sunny’ side is that they’re coincidentally shared with Sunday and his friends too. While anxious to meet them, he thoroughly reassured you that they’re nice people.
“Just a bit… loud sometimes, I hope you don’t mind.”
You don’t – anything to physically get away from Phainon. The one-month winter break may have taught you to rely on him less, but seeing his face again might cause you to fold like paper. You see his unanswered texts when you close your eyes, and you hear his voice right before falling asleep. You miss him, but you know what must be done. When he visited you on the day he left Amphoreus, you and Sunday worked together to pretend that no one was home when he came knocking.
He stayed for hours before going up to his own floor.
Sunday sits on your left, and Stelle (A kind woman who is equal parts loud and quiet) on the other. Your new acquaintances, Dan Heng and March, are a row ahead.
“I’m telling you, (Y/N)! His nickname really is cold dragon young!” March cackles in glee, making sure to point at Dan Heng in case you mistake him for someone else.
He sighs, pushing down her finger, “That was years ago, ignore her.”
Stelle chimes in, lazily putting her arm around your shoulder and whispering, “Because he had a gachalife phase.”
Cold dragon young hisses at her to shut up, only to serve as fuel for their cackling. Entertained, you let out a few quiet chuckles at their display. You can never be happy for too long – the classroom door soon creaks open, familiar tufts of white hair peeking in not a moment later. The realization that it’s undoubtedly Phainon has you clammoring in your seat, sitting rigidly in attention.
Sunday gently rubs your back, eases you back to your current circle, “Sorry…!”
“It’s okay,” Sunday whispers back, sharing a glance with you.
“Ah, (Y/N)! There you are! …And everyone too, hello!” Phainon greets from up front, hastily picking up his pace to approach your group. Facing you, he wastes no time firing question after question, “Where were you yesterday? I waited around and tried the key you gave me, but it never worked. Did your phone break? I couldn’t contact you at all, I was so worried!”
You smile at him, “Phai, it’s nice to see you again. Sorry, we replaced our door lock with a new key for uhm… security reasons, I’ll try to get you a copy sometime. And no… my phone isn’t broken, I was just busy, that’s all!”
He audibly sighs in relief, “...Really? That’s good, I’m glad – I missed you a lot, you know?” Adjusting his bag strap, he nods to the unoccupied seats in the first row, “Come on, let’s sit.”
Stelle speaks for you, “Oh, she’s sitting with us.”
“Hm? Right! Thank you for taking care of my best friend, but we’ll get going now–”
“No, I mean she’ll be sitting with us for this class.”
Phainon cocks his head, “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
You meekly affirm, “I’m… sitting with them. Uh, they’re really nice people, Sunny introduced me to them!”
“Huh?” He looks like a lost puppy on the verge of being abandoned, “...But our seats?”
“I’ll try to sit with you next class!”
You never do: you sit next to Sunday in every single one of them and ignored the bewildered look on his face each time.
He beelines for you after dismissal, blue eyes so eager and pleading when he asks you, “Let’s get dinner together – my treat? It feels like I haven’t seen you in centuries.”
Only for you to scratch the back of your neck while shyly glancing at Sunday, “Uhm… we already made plans after school. Sorry, Phai.”
“Oh.” He steps back, letting you and Sunday pass by him to exit the room. His blue eyes follow you until they can no longer. He’s left with himself when he mutters a bitter:
“I get it.”
“Let me carry that for–Ah, Sunday…?”
He’s a second too late, but Phainon stubbornly clings to your bag’s front pocket, the very bag that the other man is already carrying. You’re still in the bathroom when the professor dismisses the class. Wanting to do his usual duties, Phainon intended to carry your bag, but… someone already beat him to it. He smiles at him, polite, “Thank you friend, but this is my thing, if you’d kindly–”
Sunday’s lips curve into what seems to be a subtle mocking smile. He adjusts the bag closer to him before replying in a composed manner, “How chivalrous of you, Mister Phainon. However, it’s not needed. See? I can carry it for her.”
Phainon sees it as clear as day.
Childishly, Phainon thinks he can carry it better than he can. It’s what he always did for you since he still had some front teeth missing from his smile; it’s his duty, not your roommate’s.
He reluctantly lets go when you come up to thank Sunday, blatantly ignoring him just a few feet away. He enthusiastically greets you, but he still exists as an imaginary concept in your eyes. What’s going on? He ponders, watching you chat the world away with Sunday. What happened before that winter break that caused you to grow so tremendously close to that guy?
You said you’d give him a new copy of your dorm room, but you’re ignoring his texts, his existence, and now – letting someone else do his usual tasks. Seriously, what gives?
Sunday’s like a parasite attached to your hip, it unnerves and angers him.
Are you… trying to replace him? His heart threatens to drop just thinking about it.
You are.
You really are trying to replace him.
Sunday sits next to you, Sunday lives with you, Sunday eats with you, Sunday talks with you, Sunday texts with you, Sunday laughs with you – Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Every time Phainon is graced with your presence, it’s quick to sour from your notable companion by your side. Your new circle of friends too, Phainon sees it clear as day: you don’t want to be around them all the time, but you’re peer pressured into doing so. If Phainon was by your side… he would never let that happen to you. He’d punch them into blindness should they dare to make you inconvenienced.
Two birds of a feather – that’s what your mother called him and you; A pair of friends so close you might as well be surgically joined together in the middle. When Seven-year-old Phainon first reached his hand out to you, his brain made the unconscious decision then: you’d be the sole irrevocable part of his life. Flowers bloom and wilt; they experience a death of their own, but under Phainon’s sunlight, he promised that he’d never let a sunflower like you be anything less than thriving.
He leads and you follow, only so he’d be the one to be hurt when braving the unknown. Scraped knees and bruised patches of skin are nothing because you’re not hurt. He shines so you can comfortably hide under the shade – you’re not one for people, he’s fine with the way you are. He adjusts around your existence, a mold of comfort that perfectly fits none but you. He’s your fighter and protector; sword and shield.
Skipping rocks on a nearby lake, teasing Cyrene together, learning from her cards, and discovering a poor abandoned puppy who’d eventually be named ‘Snowy’ are all flashing strings of gold in his memories. Moments carefully planted in his own backyard and given regular maintenance lest he start neglecting them.
He loves you, of course he does. There is nothing purer in this world than his love for you; a flower specially nursed and plucked with the greatest care, a beauty unparalleled for it’s fertilized from the attention you give him.
His room is centered around you; every item given is meticulously stored and given a special place. The polaroids, your kindergarten doodles, the yellow crayon you gave him, your pressed flowers – he still has it, even brought it along to his dorm room, where he’s embraced by your presence every night before sleep.
He loves you, he knows this well in his heart. But Phainon is simply not worthy of you. His love for you is pure, but he, as a person, is not. A Sun can also be damaging to a sunflower – he is the filth to your pure, the actual darkness to light.
Is it because he refused your confession?
He preserves you because no one in this world deserves you, but must you go ahead and leave him for dead after finding a different sun to seek sunlight from? Sunday… What does he have that Phainon does not? Is he the better him? Does he treat you kinder than he does?
Sunday is far from holy. If anything, he’s the snake trying to lure you to ruin. You don’t know any better, hence why Phainon is around to protect you.
This is the biggest hurdle you’ve ever faced together, and with his heart being torn to pieces by your own gardening tools, he’ll make it right. He always goes. He’ll make it right, he’ll get you back, and you two can go back to the way you were before – just more. Friends, best friends, lovers, and everything in between, he’ll really give it all to you.
Sunday… he’s poisoned your mind and rotted your pure soul.
IV. Desperation is a seed planted long, long ago – still, spring has come.
“Thank you for sticking around me, Phai.”
He’s in the middle of starting a pathetic fire using twigs and stone when you blurt out cryptic words beside him. He hums, continuing his work, “What do you mean?”
“Can’t I just say thank you!?” You fluster, quickly standing up and pacing around the edge of the forest you’ve both designated as your ‘camping spot’. “Mama said it’s nice to thank people! So, uhm- Thank you for being my friend, please never stop being my best friend!”
“‘Course I won’t!” Phainon toothily grins, fluffy white hair gaining a slight bounce from his motions, “Actually, I’ll never abandon you. Ever!”
You perk up like a sunflower dancing in the wind, “Really!?”
The fire finally sparks to life, small and flickering, but there. At the same time, he gazes deep into your eyes, only knowing nothing else but sincerity at such an age, “Yeah! I swear!”
A yelp, “Swearing is bad!”
Phainon’s eyes blearily blink open. His dorm room ceiling greets him first thing in the morning.
Phainon stalks and waits like a deep-rooted willow tree. He strikes you when he knows you’re alone. It all falls into place: Sunday’s trainee sister is dropping by a different part of the city over the weekend; logic dictates that he won’t be coming back to his dorm room until then. Your close proximity to Sunday will momentarily halt, and Phainon is free to slither in.
He’s waiting right outside your dorm room when you come walking down the long hallway, body language all languid, even resting against the paint-chipped-off stone pillar while scrolling through his social media feed,
You’d spot him a mile away, and seeing him without Sunday by your side makes you hesitate all the more. Your stupid heart starts speeding up.
“I just want to talk,” He calls out, pocketing his phone to spread his arms wide open for a hug, “I miss you, is that too much to ask?”
You slowly approach him, “...No, I missed you too.”
You miss him. You miss him. You miss him. You’ve been holding your sunflower keychain as your nightly comfort or else you’d end up calling his number at 2AM.
Phainon smiles, “Really?”
“Yes… I just got… busy, that’s all.”
He smiles wider, blue eyes turning into blue crescent moons, “Really?”
“...Yes.” His hand gently pries the keys out of your hand; you let him.
You hear Sunday screaming on your shoulder, telling you that your blase facade is quickly falling apart at the seams. Unaffected, unmoved – you’re nothing of the sort right now. You’re a sunflower who’s been starved of sunlight for too long.
With a click, he opens the door for you and softly murmurs, “You’ve been hurting me a lot, (Y/N). You know that, right? But I understand, it’s not your fault.”
You step inside, letting him lock the door behind you, “Not… my fault?”
He shakes his head, hands firmly grasping your shoulders to sit you down on the small couch, “No, it’s mine.”
Immediately you protest, “That’s not true. We just drifted apart–”
Once more, he shakes his head before dropping to his knees before you. The sudden action makes you flinch, growing more uncertain when he holds your hand in his. Phainon’s eyes remind you of butterfly peas from up this close.
He’s quiet when he speaks, a deep rasp overtaking his voice, “...You don’t understand: I miss you.”
You understand what he means. Parting from Phainon is disorienting. Sunday and his friends may have managed to fill the gaping hole in your heart, but it’s incomparable to Phainon’s presence.
Are you a bad person for not finding satisfaction in your new friends? Are you sick in the end to still crave Phainon after being rejected two times? Is this what you get for sticking by his side for so long?
It probably is.
He continues speaking, “I’m sorry for pushing you away; that was never my intention. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re dear to me – you truly are. I never wanted to pursue a relationship with you because, I– I’m too lowly for you. I would only taint you.”
You run your fingers through his hair, reminiscing on all the nights you spent crying over him – it still bleeds like fresh wounds, “That’s ridiculous, Phainon. I’m not some holy figure to taint. I was just a girl in love with her best friend.”
“I know, but you… you don’t understand. You’re everything to me.”
“You’re everything to me, too, that’s why I loved you.” You still do.
“I think of you first thing in the morning. I brush my hair wondering how I’ll spend the day with you, I eat breakfast, thinking what yours was at that moment, I kept the homework you threw out. I always hate it when I talk to people who aren’t you. I still have the twigs you gave me during our 6th-grade camping trip. The reason the pressed flowers you were planning on giving out during high school graduation went missing is that I stole them – I didn’t want anyone else owning a piece of you. I make sure you’re always too shy to stand up for yourself, so I can save you. I… I hate Sunday for getting into your head – it should only be me. I should be the one you hate and love. I – you’re everything to me.”
His grip tightens, blunt fingernails leaving indents on your own fingers, “I’m sorry, please take me back. I’m unworthy, but I don’t want you to be happy with anyone else. I started cutting myself when you refused to go back to Aedes Elysiae with me – I don’t want to live in a world where I’m not by your side. Please. I’ll kill myself if you leave me. I really will.”
You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth.
If Phainon is the sun that will incinerate you and your sunflower petals for getting too close, the question it poses is: Do you let it consume you whole? To forgive and forget, starting a new chapter anew in the process?
kill yourself or let (y/n) have friends and move on from you
"It's all right princess, you can take us," Suguru murmurs in your ear, brushing your hair back to one side of your neck, kissing it all sweet like his cock isn't pressing into your cunt - stretching it right out with Satoru's length already buried, his pretty pink tip kissing your cervix.
"Relax, baby... f-uck you're so tight," Satoru's whimpering as he feels Suguru's tip sliding in right along side his. You're quivering around them both, nails digging into Satoru's shoulders, thighs shaking.
"Breathe," Suguru reminds you - it's stuck in your throat, you're so full already with Satoru's huge cock as you straddle him, Suguru easing from behind with just enough pressure to have you gushing down both of them. "You're taking us so well."
"Perfect, you're such a good girl," Satoru barely manages to speak, already coated in your slick with your gummy walls pulsing around him, he kisses down the curve of your pretty tit, lips wrapping around one of your nipples. "Mmm, so good."
You're struggling as their plump lips dance across your skin, leaving love marks as their fingers press into your thighs, your hips, the flesh giving underneath strong grips. You whine out when Suguru gets a little deeper, making you gasp, your head falling back against his chest.
"Toru... Sugu I..." You're so full when Suguru bottoms out, his pelvis flush against your ass with a loud smack. The stretch is overwhelming - Satoru's thick shaft pressing against your anterior wall, Suguru hitting those spots from behind.
They're so deep you can feel them in your stomach, the pressure so much you can't help but whine out, having blue eyes on your face hungry and dazed, Suguru's teeth sinking into your shoulder.
"Ngh! So much... too much..."
"Look at her," Suguru murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady as he begins to move in and out of you, his balls tightening as he feels himself gliding right along Satoru's thick length. "Already cock drunk and we haven't even started with you - tsk, such a slutty little princess."
Satoru chuckles breathlessly against your breast, his tongue swirling around an aereola, his hand on your tummy, he can't help but whine out when he feels the bulge of his cock. "She's always so needy with us, aren't you sweetheart? Needed both of us in your pussy, couldn't just have one?"
"Ngh," you don't have an answer, just your back arching as they guide your hips.
"Answer him, pretty," Suguru murmurs, turning your face and kissing your lips, saliva dripping as Satoru thrusts up into your cunt, and Suguru stays still. "God, you're made for us, aren't you?"
"Yes," you whisper, making Satoru scowl now, biting your tit. "Ow!"
"You answer him but not me!?" He glares and shoves up hard, making you gasp out and giggle. "No way you're giving him more attention right now."
"Stop being so jealous, Satoru," Suguru laughs, but when the friction of your snug walls and Satoru's cock moving against him hits, he can't stop his own moan.
"Jealous, me? No she loves me more than you," Satoru sucks in a breath - you're dripping around them, making obscene wet sounds that echo in the room, the squelches and squishes of your needy hole being filled has him leaking. "Don't you, tell him."
"Love you both," you mumble, Satoru bites your other tit when Suguru laughs, pulling back his cock and gliding in slow, taking over as Satoru stays snug and buried.
"Please," you're not even sure what you're begging for - for them to slow down? For them to go faster? For them to both pump their ropes of white cum inside?
"Please what, princess?" Suguru's breath tickles your ear, his cock shoving in and making you almost fall apart. "Please fuck you harder?"
"Hmm," Satoru continues his torture, chuckling as he kisses up your neck, huge hands gripping your ass. Suguru's cock feels so good moving against him - not that he'd admit that, plus he loves your walls quivering around him even more. "Please ruin this slutty little pussy?"
"Mmnph," you're not able to speak, drool spilling down the side of your mouth as they move. Every drag of their cocks against your walls has you about to fall apart, your nails leaving crescent marks in Satoru's pretty skin, hips rocking on their own. "Close, close!"
"Cum for us then," Suguru says softly, his long dark locks brushing over your shoulder as he tugs you down fully. "Let us feel you milk us, huh?"
"Don't you want all our cum? Want us to breed your needy cunt?" Satoru asks, biting back a whine and kissing up your throat, already pulsing himself.
"Y-yes I... ngh!" Your walls clench around them now as you shatter, squirting all down their lengths as they groan from the feeling of it, of your walls clamping down so that their tips are shoved together, the two of them losing it right with you. "Please, please..."
"God, look at you," Satoru gasps out as your aftershocks hit him, your slick pooling down and soaking the little white patch of hair underneath his belly button. "So fuckin' pretty, squirting for us?"
"You deserve to get filled, hmm?" He whispers, kissing you once more, laughing softly as he swipes your drool. "Princess, did we fuck you dumb already?"
Your answer is a little whine, cunt stretched impossibly as they quicken their movements, their moans slutty and filthy in your ears. Your lashes flutter shut as the pressure hits. "Cum in me, please..."
They of course give you what you need - their cum mixing with each others' as their tips spurt out, the two of them moaning as they cling to you, hugging your body between the two six foot four men. You feel it all, every spurt that floods you, sweat breaking out on your skin, Satoru leaning up and kissing your lips all desperate.
"Fuck you're already pushing all that out," Satoru murmurs, you giggle all breathless, suddenly feeling just how stuffed full you still are. Suguru drags you for another kiss just for Satoru to turn your head back, until their lips brush together. "Mmm, stop kissin' me Sugu."
"Our dicks are touching?"
"Yeah well," he's blushing, making you giggle just a bit. "What I tried not to think about that part!?"
"Sure, Toru," he glares and lifts you off them, the mix of their fluids just dripping down their cocks. "Mnh!"
"Look at the mess you made princess," Suguru's hand entangles in your hair and tugs, your core tightens as he looks down under those dark lashes at you. "Don't you think you should clean us up?"
based off the challengers movie ! i have zero actual tennis knowledge !!
SUMMARY tennis prodigy, satoru gojo and his equally talented best friend, suguru geto, can’t help the campus crush they develop on you after watching your matches and training at the campus courts. when you end up at the same women and men’s respective tournament they figure after you follow them back to their room all the competition’s done for… unfortunately that’s not the case for them.
CONTENT fem!reader, gego/satosugu, f/m + m/m, love triangle, smut, fluff, threesomes (mmf), bisexual gojo + geto, terrible depiction of tennis, messy relationships — more to be added
[looking at people younger than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at people older than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at myself] its over
I'm genuinely hit with so much satosugu brainrot, LIKE I've been being hit with ideas left and right for them.
Satoru/Suguru walking in on the other nonconning you (his gf) and joins him instead of getting angry at him??????
Satoru gets you intoxicated and noncons you and you tell Suguru but Suguru just defends Satoru, first starting off by saying that Satoru would "never do that" and convincing you that you're mistaken to the point you genuinely start believing that it was someone else. The thing is Suguru knows it was Satoru.
Satoru cheating on you with Suguru where discovery leads to you getting nonconned and forced into a poly relationship. You then also find out Satoru has been sending videos of you both fucking to Suguru as jerk off material.
Satoru and Suguru with a pushover!friend reader who they noncon often, because they know you'll never say no, all they have to do is just be pushy, you cannot for the life of you, defend yourself and be firm with them, which causes them to grope you and fuck you as they like.
"That's it, sweetheart," Zuko hums, head lolling back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. Your lower lash line is gleaming with balled-up tears as you gaze up at Zuko hopelessly, who is pleasantly blissed out. A strong hand reaches out to intertwine with your hair, fingers massaging your scalp softly as he rolls his hips up slowly into your tight throat, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. "Taking me so well."
His praise wasn't helping the ache you feel, your clit throbbing painfully against your panties as you struggle to take as much of what you could of Zuko's length of what you can, his tip hitting deep down your throat. "You can take some more," Zuko mumbles, wiping a tear that slips down your pretty cheek, "You're doing so good."
Not helping, not helping at all, you whimpered and hummed in response, spreading vibrations through his cock. He moaned helplessly in response, causing you to want more of him. You were trying to take him as deep as you could without gagging on his cock, using your hand to jerk off the reminder that didn't fit into your mouth. "There we go, so good for me."
i am very fond of qifrey's constant 'my friend' use towards olruggio. especially in a romantic and homoerotic context. i wouldn't swap it for anything. everyone let's use 'my friend' more often
like what are things like for witches who've grown up around magic their whole lives when their memories get erased. do they basically regress back to a child-like state before they could perceive magic? is it ever explained to them that they were criminals who had their memories wiped? do they just end up on the island with no idea how they got there or where they are? when they go to adanlee are there other witches waiting for them there to prevent perhaps old relations from trying to spark memories that they've lost?
