I’ve regretted not sharing my thoughts and feelings about you and your beautiful works sooner. Every story you wrote and every comment you made touched my heart. I’m sorry for being late in expressing my gratitude for everything you’ve done. I also feel deeply for what you had to go through with the plagiarism issue. No one should have done that to you. Unfortunately, it seems that nowadays, honor and integrity are rarely sought, with people often taking the “easy” way out and exploiting others.
Despite what some might dismiss as fanfiction or stories based on manga/anime, you gave us so much more. You poured your soul into your writing, and it was truly beautiful to witness. The way you engaged with nearly every comment, and the way people fell in love with your words, showed just how much heart you always invested in your work.
I’m writing this so that, if you read it someday, you’ll know that you are missed. You’ve changed someone’s life, and your work remains one of the best I’ve read.
Thank you, Bunny. I hope that someday, when you feel ready and better, you may return to us.
gojo using his blindfold to gag you when he fucks you in doggy because he can’t keep a hand clasped over your mouth when he’s having too much fun grabbing handfuls of your ass.
usually he’d encourage your noises, but the room he’s pulled you into has thin walls and a door that doesn’t lock. he’d rather not deal with the lectures of someone walking in and witnessing the way your legs shake when you cum. or deal with you putting him on a sex ban for letting anyone see you like that. again.
you're drooling all over his blindfold, half a mind to spit it out and moan his name just to spite him, but he’s being nice and fucking you good so you oblige, even if he is being a bit of an ass about it.
“fucking you so good i gotta gag you to shut you up, hm?” he coos. “should have fucked your throat instead, kept you quiet that way. but fuck—” he snaps his hips against your ass “—you feel so good.”
you fuck back onto his cock a little, pushing your ass back against him, and that’s all it takes to make your lover fold. he moans when he cums, loud, so much so that gagging you was pointless. he doesn't even pretend to care about the noise he's making as he cries out your name with a dramatic groan that you're sure the next city over can hear.
gojo likes to try incorporating you into his workouts. ☆
when he had first suggested you join him in the home gym, you'd thought he meant to work out alongside him. and sure, keeping up with the strongest is a miracle you weren't planning on performing, but you had gotten dressed in some nice gym clothes to at least get into the mood.
just for him to have you naked within the first few minutes. laid out on your back while gojo holds a plank between your spread legs.
apparently to satoru, the best motivation to keep his plank going is the reward of your taste. for as long as he can hold himself up, he lets himself feast.
"i could have motivated you verbally," your back arches up off the mat as your boyfriend flattens his tongue against your clit. you resist the urge to reach down and pull his hair, lest you throw him off-balance and he denies himself your pussy until he can hold another plank.
"you are," the vibrations of his words against your heat does more to wreck you than they probably should. "keep those pretty moans up. i wanna hear you."
he latches around your clit and sucks, which forces you to oblige almost instantly. god, you want to drag him upstairs and into bed and ride him for all he's worth. "right there," you exhale. "you're doing so good, toru."
"call me strong," he moans.
"really?" you snort through your nose. "you don't hear that enough?"
"nope. do it."
"you're sooo strong, toru." you laugh. "strong and pretty."
satoru lowers his head to lick a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit, the motion making your laughs turn to moans and his jaw slacken with...
did he just orgasm from that? god he's full of himself.
"you done?" you lift your head to look down at him. he's resting his flushed face against your parted thigh, but manages to shake his head nonetheless.
"not until you are," and he's latching back on, working you to orgasm with only his mouth: no hands to play with your pretty folds, no strong arms to hold you down and lessen your writhing... you want to hate how good he is at this, but you're so fucking close to the edge.
a part of you wants to force it down, try and prolong this pleasure as long as you can. both to feel the glory of his tongue a while longer and also to fuck with him, keep him in this plank for as long as you can.
but you couldn't stop this even if you did try. soon enough, you're squeezing your eyes shut and letting satoru hear his name fall from your lips as you cum. it's the best orgasm you've had in a while, which is saying something considering he gives you multiple a day.
and finally, once your legs have stopped shaking, he lowers himself out of his plank and sits on his heels in front of you.
"what the fuck," you look him over. "why don't you look tired?"
stupid question, maybe. all he gives you in return is a grin and a gentle smack to your sensitive pussy. you're sure you look like the one who's been putting all the work in: he hasn't even broken a fucking sweat.
"you need a break?" he asks, tilting his head like a cocky dog. "or you think you can ride me while i do my hip thrusts?"
A/N: This one shot POURED out of me. All because of this incredible art by @chu-cho Thank you for creating this masterpiece. Hope I can do your art justice.
Ok, let me set the scene. Euphoria, SKINS, and Degrassi procreated in the basement of Kappa Alpha. Keg to the right. A designer tray of substances to the left. The boys in the middle. And you…you crack the whi— what? Who said that?
Lyrics that feel too familiar tread water between Suguru’s ears. They glide along his skin. Which feels like silk, by the way.
Silk.
Who ever made that is a Nobel laureate.
‘Cause Imma sleep when I R.I.P.’
Euphoria.
Who chose the lights?
They’re vivid. Swarming. Like the walls are a tile dance floor. Yeah. Light picker deserves a Nobel too.
“You are so fucked right now.” His best friend’s sharp ass voice dices his lucid thoughts to smithereens.
“Shut up, Satoru.” He’s not wrong.
“We took the same shit.” Suguru perches on the solo cup ridden kitchen island. Sitting is good.
“Plus, I’m bigger than you.”
“If you wanna compare dicks just say so.” Satoru sneers, he’s cockier when inebriated.
In any other instance when Suguru is of sound mind, Satoru would’ve caught a jab to the chest. But two reasons why that can’t happen.
One, he’s currently tripping balls.
Two, you just walked in.
Like you own the house.
Maneuvering your body around the active pong table. Slipping past the chatty women gawking in their direction. Gearing for attack. Shifty and nervous, but the vodka cranberry is courage elixir.
The boys have about 45 seconds to engage with said women or divert.
But you are currently leaning over the counter reaching for a shot glass well out of your zip code. A little red dress on. All curves, no brakes. With an ass that could make anyone believe in God.
Sorry, girls. Tonight, they are going to divert.
Suguru catches Satoru’s heady gaze. No words needed. They share instincts. The boys have been in stride since the day they met.
They saunter over to the counter you’re mounting. An easy reach for them both.
“Didn’t realize your name was on the lease, princess.”
Satoru plucks the double shot glass down from Mount Everest. Handing it over between two fingers.
Still propped up on the counter with one knee, you peer down at them both. Letting the white noise of utter disinhibition drape the space between you.
Suguru planned on softening Satoru’s blow, but then you smile.
Cavalier and gorgeous.
Like it’s a golden ticket into spaces you don’t belong in.
The answer to questions people don’t realize need asking.
The cure for everything.
And right now? It is. The cure.
Suguru stands stupefied as you brace yourself on his shoulders. Thank God his hands still know what to do. They snake around your tapered waist and pull you to solid ground.
Speak, dumbass.
“You didn’t? It’s in the fine print.” Your voice beats him to it. And is fucking dessert.
Bad for you. Horrible for you. But good in the way self-indulgence is.
You take your shot glass (really, anything in the house is yours if you want it). And steer away to the refrigerator.
Your absence jumpstarts Suguru’s out-of-commission brain.
“Excuse him, he was raised by monkeys. Can I help you find something?”
Suguru and Satoru reposition themselves behind you while you rummage. Bent over at the waist. Head nearly submerged in the pull out freezer.
Are you doing this on purpose?
Are you trying to be a cocktease?
Satoru isn’t even attempting to stop eye-fucking you.
Suguru pulls his tongue ring in and out of his teeth. Anything to stop ruminating on the melody of sounds that’ll fill the room when his hips slam into your ass repeatedly.
“There it is,” you stand back to your full height. Triumphant. Jack Daniels in hand.
Your eyes are pools of quicksand. Why else would Suguru’s mouth feel more stuck than his feet?
“You’re a whiskey, kind of girl?” Satoru smirks, amused at your vice choice.
Again, the boys follow your movements like two expertly trained German Shepards. Flanking you when you settle at the corner of the island. Meticulously over-pouring your first double shot.
“I’m a good time kind of girl.” The way your slender neck tilts back is immoral. Throating the dark liquid like water.
…what else can that throat handle?
“Okay, good time girl wh—“
“Listen.” You snip Satoru’s snide remark at its base. Leaving both of them silent. Watching. Waiting.
“Brad,” you pointedly look at Suguru.
“And Chad,” eyes dagger into Satoru.
“Thank you for the warm welcome but I’m not interested in talking.”
The back of your hand swipes against your full lips. And Suguru can’t seem to pull his eyes off of them.
Satoru, after a moment of stunned silence, lets out his laugh. The one that means you’ve won his undivided attention for the night.
“Close, but no cigar baby. Try again.” Satoru leans onto his forearms. Tilting his intoxicated gaze up at you.
“Right idea, though.” Suguru chimes in. Tongue finally deciding to work.
“Ahh, I hear you loud and clear.” You retort, golden-ticket smile back on your face.
Your nose wrinkles in feigned concentration and Suguru nearly passes out.
Are you really this hot? Or is he just that blasted?
“Preppy,” your hand cups Satoru’s face. And his Adam’s Apple bobs deeply.
Good, Satoru is feeling this as hard as he is.
“And Edgy.” Suguru gawks at the way your lips hang open after your snarky guess at his name leaves your mouth.
Satoru’s wolfish chuckle is what re-tethers Suguru to this dimension. How the fuck is he keeping up with you right now?
“No, no. I got it.” You pipe up.
Placing one hand over each of theirs. Suguru greedily intertwines his long fingers between your petite ones.
“Thunder.” You squeeze Suguru’s hand and his soul nearly leaks out of his dick.
“And Lightening.”
Cotton candy dusts Satoru’s nose to his ears when you look up at him. Suguru can see the vulgar scenarios on cinematic repeat in his best friend’s mind.
And it’s tame compared to the ways Suguru wants to disrespect you.
“We can work with that.” Suguru flashes a smile of his own. Purposefully keeping his tongue ring out of your view.
“And what can we call you?” Satoru probes. Zeroed in because no one else in the room exists.
Your hands return back to your side, and Suguru misses your warmth immediately.
“No name.”
Flippant. Lighthearted like what you said was normal.
“What was that?” Satoru spurts out. Saliva bubbling in his half open mouth.
You glide away from the kitchen. Into the den with bodies colliding. Walls thrumming. Lights strobing.
Delicate hands cup around your mouth. Turning back to face your new guard dogs.
“Not here to talk, boys!”
The three of you are interwined at the center of the crowded room in seconds.
But time is warped.
Because Suguru is traversing Death Zone altitude on the mountain. And Satoru is swimming at Abyssal Zone depth in the ocean.
You are the 8th cardinal sin.
You writhe and undulate your curves in and out of their grasp. Gripping onto Satoru’s neck, strumming his undercut when he’s facing you. Winding your hips against Suguru’s crotch when he’s behind you.
Suguru’s cock has never been this hard, he’s half worried it could snap in half. Hissing against your neck. Groaning behind your ear. So goddamn grateful for the music drowning out his desperation.
But his skin is on fire. He can feel every vessel pulsate.
You are not a want.
You are a need.
“Need you.” Suguru gruffs in your ear. Flickering up to Satoru, who is mirroring his hooded gaze.
Suguru watches your pretty hand trail down Satoru’s chest. Satoru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. Apt nickname you chose for him, because there are lightening bolts in his eyes.
“Take me upstairs,” you whisper back, tilting up to capture Suguru in your web.
And he is so captured. So entangled.
The boys lead you to Suguru’s bedroom in the frat house. Even though the walk felt like miles, exactly no time passes when you three close the door behind you.
Suguru’s lips magnet to yours. Insatiable in the way he sucks and pulls on your lips. Tongue tasting every corner of your sweet mouth.
Satoru drops his head to the crook of your neck. Sucking bruises. Tracing his large grasp up and underneath your dress. No time or room for manners with how his cock is tenting against its weak restraints.
“So eager, boys.” You giggle in between their hungry kisses.
And you’re right.
It’s embarrassing, their display right now.
But neither one of them have the capacity to stop.
And hold it together.
And lead. Like they both are used to.
“Sorry,” Satoru grunts into the feminine slope of your neck. You let out an airy laugh when he starts to dry hump you. Tickling both of their incapable brains.
You know Satoru is so far gone.
And Suguru is trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity but his cock simply won’t let him. Not the way it’s drenching his sweats with need.
“Take these off.” Melodic instructions fill Satoru and Suguru’s ears the minute you pull away from Suguru’s kiss. Your index finger hooked on both hems.
As if your voice is a Pavlovian trigger, the boys step out of their pants and boxers.
Rock hard. Desperate. Leaking.
Your personal drones.
Suguru can’t swallow the whimper that collides with Satoru’s whine when your hands drop to stroke both of them at the same time. Flickering your eyes between your two toys. Proud of the way their cocks are twitching and pumping beads of precum into your hands.
“God, pretty girl.”
“Fuck, princess.”
Satoru and Suguru are dizzy with heat.
Just in time for you to drop to your knees. Dragging your closed, lipsticked lips along Suguru’s up curve.
“Please,” Suguru whispers.
You’re evil.
And you ignore him. Dragging your soft, warm hand up the length of his shaft. Interjecting butterfly kisses in between. Working Satoru’s length in your other hand.
Drawing punched out moans from the boys. Chests heaving. Clipped breaths. Pitiful.
“On your knees, Lightning.” You beckon Satoru, while teasing his counterpart.
Satoru doesn’t hesitate for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Propped on his knees, he stares into the side of your face. Awaiting further instruction.
“Kiss me,” you demand, circling your lips around Suguru’s sensitive tip for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss.
Satoru’s eyes widen. Your words startle the breath out of him.
The lights are dim but Suguru doesn’t miss the blossoming cherry red flush. Spreading along his toned shoulders.
Your wet lips dragging along his swollen cockhead pulls Suguru’s eyes away from his celestial best friend.
“Mmmgh f..fuck baby,” Suguru chokes out at your slow, mean ministrations.
“Don’t be shy, Lightening.” Your tongue tickles his lead pipe with every spoken word around his girth.
Suguru’s eyes fall to your hand. Now working its way up Satoru’s length. His core involuntarily curls into your sudden touch. Gossamer thin whine tumbling out of his lips. Suguru catches the way Satoru digs his fingernails into his milky skin.
And his cock twitches against your lips at the sight.
“Kiss me,” You beckon Satoru again, dragging your tongue up Suguru’s length.
“I—I…“ Satoru stammers. Hips stuttering against your fist. Static fills Suguru’s head.
He’s never seen him this docile. This pliant. It’s a mind fuck.
No, no.
The way Satoru pulls his eyes up to meet his gaze in that moment is a mind fuck.
Is he hallucinating?
It’s like Suguru is seeing Satoru for the first time.
Instead of being side by side, he’s across the street. Catching a glimpse of a God. Walking amongst men.
Satoru’s expression has earned permanence in his brain. Snowy halo of hair. Long, palatial lashes fanning the Aegean Sea in his eyes. A mosaic of lust, desire, a little shame.
Seeking permission.
Seeking approval.
He is otherworldly.
Vulnerable and soft. On his knees. Needy. It makes Suguru want to ram his cock past those pouty, swollen lips.
But..but that’s wrong. Right?
They’re best friends. Fucking soulmates. They don’t..they don’t do that.
But the way he’s pouting.
God.
Glassy eyed and helplessly turned on. Rutting his hips into your hand.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Suguru mutters. A surge of his arousal landing on your tongue. Eliciting a breathy giggle in response.
Followed by an out of body experience for the next few minutes.
Suguru’s hand wires into Satoru’s cloud soft locks. Gentle grasp between the slender webspaces.
“So pretty.” He rasps through the nails in his throat.
Satoru’s pupils blow out at the praise. All but purring into his touch. Suguru barely applies any force and Satoru crashes his lips onto yours with Suguru’s thick head in between.
Filthy.
Nasty dirty vulgar sounds fill the room. Suguru’s constant stream of precum dripping onto your tongue, Satoru’s tongue. Raining down on your puffy, full tits.
You two exploring each other’s lips.
Satoru’s angry length, squelching against your hand.
It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
“Such a good boy.”
Your dulcet voice is a tornado decimating Suguru’s brain. He has to blink a few times to realize that the praise wasn’t meant for him.
It was directed at Satoru.
Who is desperately — eagerly — throating Suguru’s dick. Nose flaring. Diamond tears rolling down his blushing cheeks. Unintelligible garbles dribbling out the corners of his mouth.
“Sa—Satoru, mmgh, god shit, shit.” Suguru’s hips take a cruel pace down his Person’s throat.
“Mmm, Satoru.” You murmur into his ear. Tasting your new discovery.
“Look how much Thunder likes fucking that mouth of yours.”
Satoru’s tears splash against Suguru’s sex. But he opens his throat anyway. Swallowing his rod. Filthy bulge in the column of his throat.
“Ahh, god..baby..” Suguru huffs when your devilish little hands tug at a palm full of his hair.
When did you get next to him?
Doesn’t matter.
Yet another natural disaster destroys Suguru’s brain when you push your tongue back into his mouth. While he violates Satoru’s mouth.
The wire in Suguru’s stomach coils. Lava surges through every vessel in his body. Groin welling with a deep, carnal pressure. Everything feels too fucking good.
“Fuck, oh god fuck. I’m I—g—“
“Cum for me, baby.”
You kiss your hushed command into Suguru’s mouth. His hips come to a screeching halt. Both hands down in Satoru’s hair, grazing along his undercut.
Suguru tilts his chin to the ceiling. Thick loose mane tickling his mid back. Vision completely dark. He has no idea if he’s still in Satoru’s mouth. Or where his cum is landing. All he knows is death by pleasure right now.
You press your moist lips into Suguru’s neck.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” Sweet words reverberate against Suguru’s skin.
His head slowly comes back to earth. And just as his eyes pull back open — a shudder and blinding light assaults his vision. Up close.
“Woah, what the hell?”
Suguru is met with a Polaroid camera. Printing evidence of his nirvana. His brows crawl together defensively.
“What do you—“
“Relax, thunder.” You coo with that smile that’s decadent, beautiful poison.
You step over a dazed Satoru. Still on his knees. Lazily stroking up his neglected hard cock.
Suguru’s eyes track you to his bed. You place the developing film on the nightstand.
“These are for your eyes only.”
“I don’t mind.” Satoru huffs. Rising to his feet. Deep within your trance. You could’ve asked him to cut off an arm and he’d offer you both.
Satoru would follow you into Hell if you demanded it.
Suguru would too.
“Boys, come.” You curl your finger at them. And pairs of feet move.
“Thunder, why don’t you put that tongue ring to good use. While I take care of pretty little Satoru.”
His name on your lips snaps something buried in his soul. Satoru steps to the head of the bed. Leaning against the wall. Cock heavy with his seed. A string of arousal hanging low from his tip.
You make a dramatic show to catch Satoru’s leaking string of cum before it wastes on Suguru’s sheets.
“You’re fucking filthy, princess.” Satoru hisses. He can’t remember the last time he’s blinked the whole night.
You smile around his bulbous tip, then pull him into your warm heat in one go.
And fuck, Satoru can feel you sucking through to his throat.
His whimpers sound so pathetic in his ears. But he is so lust-drunk he couldn’t care less.
One look down and he sees his best friend whining underneath your precious cunt. As you circle your hips around Suguru’s metal-clad tongue. Taking your pleasure directly from his mouth.
Suguru’s half hard sex pulsates against his perfectly toned abs. Satoru has to look away. His orgasm threatening to come too soon.
“Mmmnggh, so good with your tongue, Thunder.” You gurgle around Satoru’s length.
Arousal flavored saliva driveling down your chin. The sensation drives Satoru to piston his hips until his tip abuses the limit of your dainty throat.
You shouldn’t have any space to breathe, much less talk.
“Pl-please. Suguru. Name’s Suguru.”
“Say his name baby.” Satoru’s order is low. Raptorial. Hips bucking wildly into your mouth. Heat crashing into his groin.
He’s so close. He’s—
“S-Suguru.”
And Satoru dives off your cliff edge. Hearing his Person’s name tumble out of your mouth and around his cock snapped his self-control in half.
Ropes off thick, warm heat spill out the side of your mouth. Staining your bunched up dress, the sheets and everything in between.
“S-so close,” you huff, humping Suguru’s tongue more aggressively.
A familiar camera shudder and solar bright light fans your outstretched neck. Capturing your cum-stained ascension.
You flash Satoru a knowing smirk. Another beam of light aimed in his face before he tosses your camera off to the side.
Satoru crashes his lips into yours. Eager to taste himself off your mouth.
Your bodies move in perfect tandem. Satoru kisses your peak from your lips while Suguru coaxes your wet orgasm onto his tongue. Your high drenches Suguru and the sheets around him.
The three of you piece yourselves together. Completely plaited within each other’s warm, moist limbs. Basking in the serotonin showers misting you three in post-coital bliss.
No one remembers, but you wish each other sweet dreams before the fog settles. And the night re-claims you to sleep.
——
Sunlight is downright offensive.
Suguru forces his heavy lids open.
7: 43 AM
Fucking, hell.
A freight train is currently doing laps in Suguru’s mind. He flickers around the room. Haphazard clothes. Strewn socks. Satoru in Suguru’s 06 hockey jersey. Long limbs nearly dangling off the other side of his bed.
Suguru glances down, somehow dressed only in Satoru’s black sweats
There’s a tiny sliver of space between their sodden bodies. Where you must’ve slept.
Right.
You.
Heaven’s fallen angel.
You used to be God’s favorite. No way you still are.
Not with how fucking sinful you looked in that red dress.
Snapping polaroids.
Taking their souls for play.
Then having the audacity to leave them on the nightstand when you were through.
Suguru met The Devil last night.
And she was…exquisite.
“Fuck, my head.” Satoru groans, rolling over to face his dark-haired soulmate.
Suguru watches his eyes flutter open. And something within him catches.
How has he not noticed how beautiful this boy is before?
“Here,” A glass of ice water, still sweating from condensation is waiting on Suguru’s nightstand. He takes a long sip before passing the lifeblood to Satoru.
Satoru briefly meets Suguru’s gaze. Before averting, pretty mulberry blush flooding his face.
“Was last night…real?” Satoru asks after an extended sip.
Suguru meets his question with silence. Preoccupied with picture proof.
Three polaroids neatly arranged on the nightstand.
The first one is of Suguru. Hair moused, framing his intoxicated gaze. Remnants of his orgasm oozing from the still shot. Lips puffy and abused. Cheeks flushed. Suguru can barely recognize the man in the photo.
His eyes dance to the cursive label at the bottom:
Thunder
Alias: “Suguru”
A wry chuckle escapes his lips. He passes his photo to Satoru.
The next polaroid is of his Person. Post orgasm haze heavy in his eyes. He managed to get his 10,000-kilowatt smile perfectly in the selfie. Also flushed. Also completely debauched. The blue in his eyes reflected nearly translucent.
He’s a fucking masterpiece, that boy.
Suguru knows what to expect at the bottom of Satoru’s polaroid:
Lightening
Alias: “Satoru”
“Shit man, these are amazing.” Satoru murmurs, intently studying Suguru’s polaroid. Absentmindedly accepting his.
“They are.” Suguru agrees, unknowingly holding his breath while pulling your polaroid into view.
And of course.
It’s blurry.
The only thing in focus is your graceful, arched neck, specks of Satoru’s finish glistening on your skin. Merlot red dress, pulled far below your breasts. Only thing pictured is the apex of your cleavage. Leaving Suguru’s mind to spiral into lucid memory of the rest of your silhouette.
“Who…was that?” Satoru muses. Eyes now on the ceiling. Undoubtedly having the exact same swarm of flashbacks flood his mind.
Suguru rolls your Polaroid between his index and long finger. The bottom of the photo reading:
my favorite fanfiction author (Bunny584) just wiped off the face of the planet, so I've come here to seek refuge among the Nanami kento fanfiction and tea. High-key devastated, hope she's well, her work was amazing and I respected her greatly. Any recommendations of a good read for a sad heart?
Jesus, I know, I'm devastated too. I could count on one (maybe two) hands the authors who I would read their every single piece because their writing was so exceptional. She was one of them. A friend and I were talking about bunny deactivating, both mourning it.
I think the two other two authors I would recommend for extremely high writing quality are @mysteria157 and @rahuratna. There are plenty of others, and I'm sure my very tired and overworked brain is forgetting a few, but theirs really is the very best, I think. Publishable level writing. 10/10.
And I'm really quite behind with reading their stuff. I've been far too busy.
