Reader x Naoya Zenin & Toji Fushiguro | 18+ MDNI
cw: unprotected sex, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, slapping, spit, hair pulling, oral, face-fucking, crying during sex, orgasm control, humiliation, jealousy, power imbalance, obsession, multiple orgasms, light choking, praise/degradation mix, cock slapping, post-sex aftercare, subdrop, emotional vulnerability, playful bickering, bratty male subs, dick grabbing, cousins participating in shared sexual activity (non-incestuous, mutual involvement with reader), suggestive humor, consensual power play, group sexual content, soft dom reader, reader-centered control, extra filthy for ya‘ll
You never have. Not at the Zenin compound, not in some half-assed Tokyo rental, and definitely not at Toji’s apartment.
You toss the box of gear onto the table without so much as a greeting. Mission leftovers. Burners. Blades. Shit Toji always forgets. But the silence hits first. Then the voice.
“You’re brave, showing up like that without calling.”
It’s lower than you remember. Rougher. Steadier. But still soaked in that cocky, rotted smirk he used to have when he was just a teenage brat in the Zenin halls, trying to one-up Toji in every way and failing.
Naoya Zenin. Twenty-seven. Bigger than he used to be — lean, cut, and furious. Still got that prince-of-nothing vibe, but now it’s dressed in black compression sleeves and tattoos curling under his collarbone.
He looks at you like he wants to kill you.
Or fuck you raw. Probably both.
“Relax,” you hum. “I’m not here to fuck your cousin. Not this time.”
He snorts, eyes dark. “That supposed to make me feel better?”
You smirk. “Dunno. You always did have a complex about him.”
His jaw ticks. “I don’t have a fucking complex.”
You take your time eyeing him up shameless, slow, head tilted. Then you grin, like it physically hurts you not to poke.
He’s in your face in a second, palm against the wall near your head, chest flush to yours, not touching but daring you.
“You think you’re better than me.”
He grits his teeth. “Fuck, you’re insufferable.”
That stops him. Just a second. Just enough.
He is hard. His cock pressing against the front of his pants, straining like it’s trying to claw through the fabric. You feel it before you see it and when you grin, when you drop your voice to a purr and lean into his cheek— “Still getting off to thoughts of me riding your face when you were nineteen?”
The second you purr that little line about his teenage fantasies, something detonates in him. Naoya shoves you back fast and rough and drags you by the waist down the hallway, throwing the door to Toji’s bedroom open like it insulted him.
He throws you on the bed. Your back hits the mattress with a bounce, and before you can blink, he’s on top of you, straddling your hips, his knees pinning your thighs apart.
“Fucking mouth,” he growls, voice shaking. “You always had to talk shit.”
“You always had to get hard over it.”
That makes him snarl. He grabs your throat with one hand, palm wide and hot, squeezing just enough to make your pulse flutter and then crashes his mouth onto yours.
The kiss is filthy. Possessive. Tongue first, lips dragging open, spit-slick and unhinged. He kisses like he hates you. Like he’s starving. Like if he can get deep enough he might finally shut you up.
You moan into it, high and taunting, and that only makes him grip your neck harder, just a bit. His cock pulses against your abdomen through his slacks.
He breaks the kiss just to pant against your mouth, voice cracking. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you do to me.”
“I do,” you grin, breathless, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “I always knew.”
He shoves your shirt up, palm dragging over your chest, fingers digging into your ribs like he wants to mark you there. You push your hips up into his, grinding shamelessly, and watch his whole face twitch like he’s fighting every instinct not to cum in his pants again.
“Fucking—god, fuck,” he hisses, then growls through his teeth. “Take it off. All of it.”
“You begging me now, baby?”
He chokes on his own groan and rips your underwear in half.
Your panties snap in his fist like they were made of paper, and he tosses them behind him without a glance, mouth dragging hot and open down your chest like he needs to taste every single inch before he loses his mind.
“Fucking brat,” he hisses, biting the curve under your breast. “Think you’re in control?”
You moan just to mock him, breathy and teasing as your fingers slide through his hair. “Naoya, baby, you’re the one rutting like a dog in heat.”
He slaps your thigh. Hard.
You yelp — more surprised than hurt — and his face darkens as he shifts down, shoving two fingers inside you like he owns you already.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, wrist pumping, thumb circling your clit like he’s trying to break you open. “Take it.”
And you do. You take it with your jaw slack, your hips twitching, your hand grabbing the pillow behind your head because goddamn, you forgot how good his hands were.
“That’s it,” he pants. “That’s what you wanted, huh? You want me to fuck the attitude outta you?”
You smile. “Try.” He loses it.
He yanks his belt open with one hand, spits in his palm, strokes his cock twice, and then shoves inside you so deep and fast your eyes roll.
You scream. He groans, burying his face in your neck, his pace immediately brutal. No warm-up. No rhythm. Just full-bodied slamming, your thighs pushed back against your chest, his nails bruising into your hips.
And still, you laugh. Right into his ear.
“Already?” you pant. “God, Naoya— Toji would’ve made me cum twice by now.”
His eyes snap. He grabs your hips, slams in once, twice, three times so deep it knocks the breath from your lungs.
“You little slut,” he snarls. “You take it. As long as I want. I stay hard, I keep going — ‘til you’re crying, ‘til you’re begging, ’til you wish you never fucking walked in here in the first place.”
You arch up, one hand fisting in his hair, the other grabbing his wrist. You yank his head back. Eyes meet. He’s flushed, sweaty, snarling.
“If you come again,” you breathe, “I’ll make you lick it.”
He freezes. Then moans. And then he ruts.
Like something inside him shattered. Like his body doesn’t belong to him anymore. He pounds into you, over and over, no breaks, no sanity, teeth gritted, thighs shaking, cock twitching from the pure overstimulation but he won’t stop.
“Fuckfuckfuck—” he pants, voice ragged, “I’m— you— fuck—”
You clamp around him and scream, back arched, thighs trembling, and he lets out the filthiest moan you’ve ever heard — high, desperate, body twitching as he spills inside you again.
He doesn’t. He pants once. Then grabs your thighs, pulls your legs to the side like he’s unwrapping a meal.
And licks. He licks everything. Your cunt, your thighs, the mess dripping out of you, his own cum — devours it, tongue deep and hot, his groan muffled against your overstimulated core. It’s not even about getting you off anymore.
It’s worship. It’s ownership. Then he crawls up your body, sweat slick on his chest, eyes blown wide. He grabs your chin, tight. And spits into your mouth.
You moan through it, drag him down by the hair, and kiss him so hard it hurts. His tongue slides over yours, filthy and wet and shameless, and he moans into your mouth like a man who just realized he’ll never want anyone else again.
Naoya’s got your legs over his shoulders, one hand on your throat, the other digging into your ass as he fucks into you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His hips slap wet against yours, pace rough and messy, hair stuck to his face, jaw slack. He’s moaning under his breath, fucking you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish the second he stops.
“You mine now, yeah?” he pants, voice cracking. “Say it—say you’re mine—”
You just smile. And moan. High and fake.
His face twitches. He slaps your thigh. “Fucking say it!”
But you hear it first. The door. Click. Creak. Then—
Naoya freezes. You both turn.
Standing in the doorway. Sweaty from the gym. Shirt off. Bag still slung over his shoulder. He stares.
Naoya’s still buried balls-deep inside you.
You’re smirking. Naoya’s panting. Licking his lips.
He actually fucking licks his teeth, mouth open, pupils blown, like getting caught made him harder. Like Toji showing up mid-thrust is the best thing that could’ve happened.
“Toji, baby,” you moan, hips shifting just enough to make Naoya twitch inside you, “you can watch. Maybe you’ll even give him some tips on how to fuck for real.”
He slaps you. Right across the cheek. Hard.
But your laugh? Your moan? It’s so fucking loud it echoes.
You drag your nails down his spine and moan like he made you cum just from the slap. Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, you look at Toji — like this is his fault too. Like you want him to see what he’s created.
“Toji,” you pant, smug and ruined, “your little cousin’s so obsessed. Did you know? He whines when I clench around him. He fucking cries when he cums.”
“Shut up,” Naoya growls, pounding into you harder, voice barely human. “Shut the fuck up—shut the—fuck—up—”
You’re gasping now. Not pretending.
He’s actually fucking you hard enough to make the bed slam the wall. Sweat dripping, arms shaking. He’s feral. Feral for you. Feral for Toji watching.
Toji’s still in the doorway. Brow cocked. Silent.
And when Naoya looks over his shoulder, panting like a dog, waiting for punishment—
Toji just grins. Half-smirk. Lazy. Dangerous.
Then? He leans against the frame. Crosses his arms.
And watches. Because he knows. You’ve broken Naoya.
And he’ll never fuck another person again.
Naoya’s pounding into you like a demon — slapping skin, snarled breath, bruising grip. He’s sweating over you, jaw clenched, eyes flicking to Toji every time you moan like he wants him to hear it too.
And you? You’re loud. You moan like you’ve never been fucked like this. Like you want the whole floor to hear.
And Toji does. He’s still standing there — but his arms aren’t crossed anymore. They’re down. One hand on his hip, the other hanging low, and—
There it is. You see it. That very obvious, very thick shape pressing against the front of his sweatpants.
You look right at it. Then at him.
Then back at Naoya, who hasn’t even noticed because he’s too busy chasing his next orgasm inside you.
You moan again, loud and sharp, and throw your head back like you’re about to cry from how good it feels.
“Toji,” you pant, dragging your voice like velvet, “you’re getting hard just from hearing me moan?”
That gets Naoya’s attention. His head snaps up. He looks over his shoulder — and sees it, too.
His own cousin, leaning in the doorway, eyes dark, cock outlined hard as fuck under his waistband.
Toji doesn’t say shit. Doesn’t even blink. Just raises a brow.
Naoya’s mouth goes dry. His hips stutter.
“Oh my god,” you moan. “You’re both so fucking—”
Naoya hits you again — this time your ass — so hard it echoes.
“Shut up,” he growls, pulling you up by the waist, closer, deeper, like he’s afraid Toji’s gonna take you away. “You’re mine now. Mine. You fucking came here for me.”
“You sure?” you grin, cock drunk, eyes rolling back as he hits that spot again and again. “You sure this cock’s not just charity, Naoya?”
He chokes on a moan. His voice breaks. “You’re such a whore—”
“You’re the one drooling over your cousin’s hard dick,” you pant, laughing again.
And that? That finishes him.
He growls, drags you by the hips flat under him, and ruts into you like an animal. He’s panting, sweating, pounding, hips slamming the backs of your thighs with every stroke. Your tits bounce with every thrust. Your moans are obscene.
Toji watches the whole thing.
His hand drifts low. He doesn’t even hide it.
He palms himself — slow, lazy, like this isn’t the first time he’s seen Naoya lose his fucking mind over something Toji had first.
You both freeze. You blink. Naoya twitches inside you.
You smirk like the devil and moan so filthy and high it makes Naoya fucking shake.
He spits on the floor beside him.
Naoya’s panting over you, flushed and shaking, your body limp beneath him after he’s already wrung a second orgasm from you. He’s still inside you — still hard — but just barely holding on. One more snap of your hips and he’s gonna lose it again, and he knows it.
Toji moves. Steps away from the door.
Naoya’s still buried in you when his cousin walks right up to the bed.
Toji stares down at the two of you, at the mess Naoya’s made — the slick, the bruises, the cum dripping from your thighs. And then he smiles.
Not kind. Predatory. He reaches for the hem of his sweatpants and pulls them down.
Naoya’s voice catches in his throat. You can feel him twitch inside you. His breath stutters, and he turns his head up like he’s dizzy just looking at Toji’s cock.
You moan under your breath, dragging a hand down Naoya’s back. “Aww, baby—looks like Daddy’s home.”
Naoya lets out this broken sound—part moan, part groan—and pulls out slowly, the drag of his cock slick and soaked with your juices. He scrambles back on his knees, dazed, red in the face, lips parted.
Toji climbs up onto the bed.
One hand on your thigh. The other curling into your hair. He leans over you, cocks his head, and smirks.
You grin, breathless, still trembling. “Had to make sure you heard me.”
He leans down. Kisses you — deep and slow, tongue tasting everything Naoya left in your mouth, filthy and possessive. When he pulls back, he slaps your cheek just light enough to sting.
“You let him fuck you like that?”
You nod, blinking up at him. “He needed the practice.”
He grabs your legs, pushes them open, and slides in without warning.
Naoya moans behind you — one hand wrapped around his cock, face twisted in jealousy and awe, watching the way Toji sinks into you like he’s done it a thousand times before.
Toji groans low, deep in his throat. “Fucking sloppy mess.”
He starts slow, hips grinding, letting you feel every inch, every stretch, every single fucking drag of his cock inside you. His hand wraps around your throat as his pace starts to build.
“You feel that?” he grunts. “That’s how you fuck a brat like her.”
Naoya’s whining. Watching. Fisting his cock. Lips bitten red.
Toji doesn’t even look at him. “C’mere.”
Naoya crawls forward — eyes blown, panting.
Toji grabs his jaw. “You wanna learn?” he growls. “Then watch close. And don’t you fuckin’ touch her again ‘til I say so.”
You moan, caught between the two of them, your body wrecked and wet and shaking.
Toji fucks you harder. And Naoya just nods. Begging.
Toji’s still buried inside you. Sweat drips off his jaw, cock heavy and thick inside your cunt as he fucks you with slow, brutal strokes that make your eyes roll and your breath hitch. He’s got one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your jaw, keeping your mouth slack and open.
Naoya kneels at the foot of the bed. Cock red, leaking, untouched. Watching. Shaking.
“Get under her,” Toji says.
Naoya looks up like he didn’t hear it right. “What?”
Slap. Toji cracks him across the face — hard enough to snap his head sideways. “You deaf now?”
Naoya doesn’t answer. Just moves. Fast. Crawling up onto the bed, dragging himself under you, face going pale and flushed all at once.
You’re half-lifted by Toji’s hands, your ass in the air now, legs open — and then you feel it.
Naoya’s breath. Hot against your inner thighs.
“Put your mouth where your cock was,” Toji snarls. “Clean it. With your fucking tongue.”
You let out a gasped moan the second his tongue licks into you — tentative, shaky, then deeper, more desperate as the taste hits him. He’s moaning into your pussy like a fucking addict. Hands gripping your thighs so tight they shake. Licking everything — your slick, his cum, your heat, your scent — nose buried in it like he needs it to breathe.
“Shit,” you gasp. “He’s better at this.”
Toji laughs. “That’s ‘cause he’s starving.”
You feel Naoya whine against you, tongue working faster, sloppier, messier, trying to make you cum just to prove himself.
And then— Toji shifts behind you. Grabs your hair.
And slides his cock into your mouth.
You choke around it, eyes wide, spit instantly dripping down your chin as he starts to fuck your throat with the same slow, brutal rhythm he used between your legs. His grip tightens in your hair, holding your head steady, controlling everything.
“That’s it,” Toji pants. “Good fucking girl.”
Below you? Naoya’s losing his mind.
He’s sucking your clit now loud, sloppy, desperate. You feel his fingers dig into your thighs, feel his tongue flick faster, faster, obsessed with making you cum while you’re full in the throat.
Toji groans. “She gonna cum on your face, Naoya?”
Naoya moans into your cunt. Nods.
Toji slaps your ass. “Make her.”
And he does. You cry out around Toji’s cock — body twitching, legs shaking, hips bucking down as you cum hard on Naoya’s face, his tongue never stopping, drinking you in like it’s the only thing that’ll ever satisfy him.
You go limp. Toji pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop.
Naoya’s face is wrecked — flushed, soaked in slick, lips swollen, eyes glazed. He’s panting. Begging.
“Toji—” he gasps. “Please— I—can I—please let me—”
Toji leans down, grabs his cousin’s face with one hand.
Naoya whimpers. “I cleaned her. I made her cum. I—I didn’t touch myself. I—please. I’m yours. I’ll do anything.”
Toji spits on him. Wipes it in with his thumb. Then smiles. “Then hold it. ’Til I say.”
Naoya groans — body trembling, cock throbbing, face buried between your legs again like it’s the only place he wants to die.
And you? You’re still moaning.
“Fuck,” you pant. “He’s never gonna fuck anyone else again, huh?”
You’re lying in Toji’s lap now, body limp and soaked, his cock resting heavy across your stomach, one big palm soothing over your tits.
Naoya kneels in front of the bed like a fucking pet.
His mouth is still glossy from licking your cunt clean. His cock is flushed, twitching, so painfully hard it’s leaking in thick strings. And he hasn’t touched it. Not once.
Toji drags a hand through your hair and looks at him like he’s looking at a stain on his floor.
“You still wanna fuck her, huh?”
Naoya nods fast, face flushed to the ears.
Naoya launches forward. But Toji’s hand snaps out, grabbing him by the shoulder mid-motion, shoving him back hard to the floor.
“But not how you want. Not fast. Not sloppy.”
Naoya pants, eyes blown wide.
“You’re gonna fuck her like I tell you to.”
You giggle, lazy, draped against Toji’s side like a prize. “Aww. He gets training wheels.”
Toji chuckles. “Yeah. Let’s see if he learns.”
You’re on top of Naoya now, straddling him, his cock trembling under you, the tip hot and twitching against your folds.
He’s moaning already, trying to buck up.
Toji grips his cousin’s hair from behind — tight.
“Don’t you fucking move,” he growls.
Naoya moans. You sink down on him.
Slow. Torturous. Every inch disappearing inside you while he groans, face crumpling like he’s in pain. His eyes roll back. His hands grip the sheets like they’re the only thing grounding him.
“Fuck—” he gasps. “Fuck I—”
“Don’t cum,” Toji warns. “You cum without permission and I’ll beat your dick raw.”
You grind down into his hips, slow and deep, and moan right in his ear, dragging your nails down his chest. “Can feel how close you are already. What a fucking mess.”
You obey. Your pace picks up, wet and sloppy, Naoya crying out under you with every thrust. He’s so fucking close, hips trembling, eyes pleading as he looks at Toji over your shoulder.
Toji grips his jaw. “Say thank you.”
Toji slaps him. Naoya screams.
“Th—thank you! Thank you Toji—fuck—thank you for letting me—”
Naoya moans, tears slipping down the corners of his eyes. “Toji—Toji—fuck, for letting me fuck her—thank you for letting me feel her—thank you—”
You slam down on him one last time—tight, soaking, clenching hard—and he loses it.
He cums deep, crying, twitching under you like a fucking wreck, hands shaking, body wrecked.
And Toji? Toji grabs his chin and spits in his mouth. “Good boy.”
You collapse forward, half-laughing, still shaking.
Naoya’s panting under you, fucked dumb, eyes glassy.
Toji leans in behind you, hand on your lower back.
“Think he’s trained yet?”
You smirk. “Mm… one more round.”
Toji’s cock brushes your thigh.
“You riding me this time, or watching me break him all over again?” But Toji’s cock already slides back into you without warning.
You gasp, spine arching, hands braced against the sheets — as his hips roll forward, filling you in one brutal thrust. You’re still so wet from riding Naoya you can hear it, obscene, every slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.
Behind you, Toji groans. “Still tight. Still fuckin’ sweet.”
He sets a pace. Rough. Deep. Possessive.
His hand grips your hip like a vice, the other dragging up your spine before curling into your hair. Every thrust shoves you forward.
Right into Naoya. He’s laid out on the bed in front of you now, flushed, eyes starved, hair a mess, lips parted.
Toji yanks your head up by your hair. “Kiss him.”
You grin fucked out and loving it. Naoya doesn’t need to be told twice.
He surges forward and grabs your face, pulling you into a kiss like he needs it to breathe. His mouth moves over yours messy, desperate, licking into you, tongue sliding over yours as he whimpers into your mouth.
Toji groans. “I said kiss, not fucking beg.”
You moan, helpless now, as Naoya kisses you harder, deeper, hands cupping your cheeks like you’re his last fucking chance at feeling something real. Like he wants to swallow your moans before Toji can hear them.
But Toji hears. And fucks you deeper. “You like this?” he grunts, hips slamming forward. “My cock in you while he sucks on your fucking mouth?”
Naoya whines against your lips. You moan into his.
Toji leans forward, chest against your back, lips at your ear. “You ever kiss him like that when he fucked you?”
You shake your head, still kissing Naoya like he’s yours, like you want to destroy him.
Toji snarls, slaps your ass. “Didn’t think so.”
Naoya’s hands slide down your shoulders. He’s moaning into your mouth, needy and desperate, like each kiss is killing him. He tastes like you. You taste like Toji. It’s fucking feral.
You break for air, barely and Naoya whispers it like a secret against your lips: “I love you like this.”
And then Toji slams deep again and growls: “She’s not yours.”
Naoya flinches. And you? You cum. Hard.
Naoya’s flat on his back, arms limp at his sides, chest rising too fast, eyes already glassy. His cock? Hard again.
Despite everything, the previous orgasms, the trembling legs, the way he literally whimpered into your mouth when Toji was fucking you from behind — he’s still desperate. Still twitching under you like his body can’t stop chasing it.
You’re straddling him now, his tip slick against your folds, grinding slowly — not letting him in.
“Please,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Please, I—I need it.“
Toji leans against the dresser, arms crossed, half-hard again, watching the show with a lazy smirk. “You hear that?” he mutters to you. “Little cousin thinks he’s earned it.”
You smile like a fucking goddess. Lean down, lips brushing Naoya’s flushed cheek. “You haven’t,” you whisper.
Then you drop your hips. He screams.
You fuck him slow at first, just to watch him shake. You slide down on him tight and soaked, grinding your hips in slow, brutal rolls. His hands fist the sheets, his back arches, mouth open in a silent moan.
“Toji—fuck—I—oh god—please—”
“Who told you to talk to him?” you snap.
You slap his cheek, not too hard but just enough to make his mouth fall open in shock.
And Toji? Toji laughs. “Fuckin’ pathetic,” he mutters, dragging his thumb down his own stomach. “Look at him. Cryin’ like a virgin and he’s already cum in you twice.”
Naoya’s crying now. Actual tears. Rolling down his cheeks as you ride him harder, faster, full weight grinding down into his hips while he sobs under you.
“I c-can’t—please—I can’t cum again, I’ll break—fuck—I’ll die—”
You grab his jaw, force his teary eyes to yours.
“You’ll cum,” you snarl, panting. “You’ll fucking cum for me like the needy, broken little bitch you are.”
His whole body shudders. His stomach tightens. He gasps like he’s drowning— And he cums.
Hard. Violent. A strangled sob of a moan that rips straight out of his chest as you ride him through it, ignoring every twitch, every tremble.
He’s crying louder now, hands clinging to your waist like you’re going to disappear if he lets go.
You and Toji laugh. Cruel. Pleased.
Toji walks over, leans down, grabs Naoya’s face. “You’re ruined.”
Naoya just nods, tears on his lips. “I know.”
You kiss him. Deep. Lingering. And he sobs into your mouth like he’s grateful.
5 minutes later Naoya’s on his knees behind you. Fists trembling at your hips.
Cock still hard, despite everything. Despite the shaking. The crying. The way he’s already cum so much he’s twitching just from touching you.
Toji stands in front of you — towering. Half-hard. Smirking. His hand tangled deep in your hair.
“Go on,” Toji says lazily, looking over your back to Naoya. “Fuck her.”
Naoya lets out a ragged, broken moan. “Please—Toji, I—”
Naoya groans like he’s in pain, lines himself up again, and pushes inside.
You both moan — your face instantly heating, lips parted as he sinks in. He’s slower now, gentler, but only because his body can’t take anything else. Every roll of his hips is shaky, needy, like he’s praying to last five more seconds.
And in front of you? Toji pulls your head up. “Open,” he growls.
You obey. And he slides in.
Your mouth stretches wide around him, thick, hot, the weight of him heavy on your tongue as he starts fucking into your throat with the same smooth control he always has. No rush. No panic. Just possession.
He’s fucking you harder now, crying out into your back with every thrust, desperate, moaning your name over and over like a prayer.
Toji laughs. “Listen to him,” he mutters, hand still gripping your hair tight as he thrusts into your mouth. “Fuckin’ ruined. You broke your little dog.”
You moan around him throat full, pussy clenching, body trembling between them. Your hands fist the sheets. Your body rocks between the two of them — Toji’s cock down your throat, Naoya’s hips slamming into you from behind.
“Good girl,” Toji growls. “Taking it so well.”
Naoya’s grip on your hips tightens. His voice cracks:
“Please—please I’m gonna cum again—”
You pull off Toji with a wet pop, spit trailing from your lips.
“Let him,” you pant, smug and cockdrunk, eyes rolling back. “Let him break.”
Toji watches your mouth, grins.
“Go on,” he says over your shoulder. “Cum in her. One last time. Then you can crawl home and tell your clan how we fucked the pride outta you.”
Naoya screams. He cums like he’s being exorcised, sobbing into your back, nails dragging down your waist as he empties inside you for the fourth time, entire body convulsing with it.
And Toji? He grabs your face, shoves his cock back in your mouth, and finishes down your throat while you hum, smirking, full of both of them.
When it’s over, you collapse onto the sheets, wrecked and dripping, throat sore and cunt aching.
Naoya? Face in your back, still crying.
Toji? Standing over both of you. Smirking. “Good boys don’t cry,” he mutters.
And you? You just laugh. “Guess he’s not a good boy anymore.”
Sticky with sex. Moonlight cutting across the sheets. The only sound is your breathing, the gentle hum of Tokyo outside the half-open window—and the flick of Toji’s lighter.
You’re sitting against the headboard, legs open, body still sore and slick and used.
Naoya lies between your thighs. Naked. Trembling.
His face is tucked into your bare stomach, lashes damp, cheek resting against your skin like it grounds him. One of your hands strokes slowly through his hair, fingers sliding through sweat and soft strands—while the other rests on his shoulder, rubbing slow circles.
His breath still stutters every now and then.
From exhaustion. From shame. From peace.
“Shh,” you whisper. “You’re okay.”
He nods, doesn’t move. His lips part against your skin like he wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t look at Toji. Can’t. Not yet.
You kiss his temple. “You did so good, baby.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers.
“I know,” you say softly, still stroking his hair. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful.”
From the window, Toji exhales a slow drag of smoke. His broad shoulders glow in the moonlight, one foot propped on the ledge like he could disappear into the night if he wanted—but he doesn’t.
He turns his head slightly. Watches the two of you.
Your naked body, Naoya curled in your lap like a wrecked child, your hand stroking down his spine in lazy, soft waves. Your lips brushing his forehead. That low, endless hum of comfort only you know how to give.
Toji smirks. And says nothing. Because what could he say?
You’d ruined Naoya. Fucked him, broke him, let him sob on your skin until he melted into it.
But now? You were healing him. With the same hands that tore him apart.
Naoya finally speaks again—quiet, raw: “Can I stay like this?”
You smile and press another kiss to his temple. “As long as you want.”
The air’s gone still, the wind softer now, Tokyo’s heartbeat fading behind glass and sweat-stained silence.
Curled between your legs, his face tucked into your stomach, lashes brushing your skin. Every few minutes he twitches like he’s still trying to fuck you in his dreams—but your hand runs through his hair and he settles.
You’re still naked. Still marked from both of them.
He doesn’t say a word when he steps off the windowsill. Doesn’t grunt or sigh or drag his feet.
He walks to you silently. Kneels by the bed. And rests one calloused hand on your thigh.
His lips press to it a second later soft, quiet, reverent.
Not lust. Something else.
Your hand keeps moving through Naoya’s hair, but your eyes meet Toji’s. His gaze doesn’t leave yours.
For a moment, all three of you are still. Then he says it. Low. Rough. Inevitable.
“Y’know he’s never gonna want anyone else again.”
Your fingers pause in Naoya’s hair. Toji presses one more kiss to your thigh, just above the bruise he put there.
“He’ll follow you now. Whatever you say. Whatever you do. He’s yours.”
You smile. And you don’t correct him. Because you both know he’s right. Naoya murmurs something in his sleep—your name, maybe.
You keep stroking his hair, slow and warm.
He just watches. Like he knew it would end this way all along.
Toji doesn’t say anything at first.
He just watches from the edge of the bed as your fingers continue to glide through Naoya’s hair, gentle and patient, lulling him deeper into sleep.
Then, without a word, he slides in behind you.
The bed shifts under his weight — wide shoulders fitting around your back like they always have. He’s still naked. Still warm. His arm snakes under yours, across your stomach, over Naoya’s hip — until he’s holding you both.
Naoya stirs slightly, head nuzzling deeper into your belly. You guide him gently, and he shifts — curling forward, arms around your waist, face tucked between your breasts like he belongs there.
Toji’s chest at your back, his big hand splayed across your ribs. Naoya’s breath slow and soft against your collarbone, your thighs tangled up in his.
There’s nothing left to say. Toji’s nose brushes the back of your neck, and he lets out one low, satisfied exhale — all rough gravel and quiet peace.
And you smile. Between them.
Owned. Worshipped. Loved, in their own ruined ways.
Sleep finds you like that — wrapped in bruised muscle, tender hands, and the kind of silence that only comes after surrender.
The sun’s just barely rising.
You’re still between them, blankets kicked halfway off, skin warm, sheets damp with heat and sweat from the night before.
He’s curled into your chest, arms tight around your waist like a kid who knows he’s not supposed to be there but refuses to leave anyway. He nuzzles into your skin like you’re the last safe thing on Earth.
Then he whispers it. Quiet. Whiny. “Are you gonna leave?”
You don’t answer right away—just blink, stretch a little.
Toji groans behind you, already awake. “She’s not goin’ anywhere, dumbass. Sleep.”
Naoya lifts his head. Glares over your body. “Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m a kid.”
Toji chuckles. “Then stop crying like one.”
“Can’t. Too busy fucking your girl.”
“I swear to god,” Naoya growls, pushing up on one elbow like he’s ready to start another fight right there on the bed.
Toji rolls his eyes. “Sit down, princess.”
You’ve had enough. With one hand, you reach up and grab Naoya by the hair, tugging his head back just enough to make him gasp.
Your other hand snakes behind you, under the blanket and wraps around Toji’s dick.
Tight. Not playful. Controlling. He grunts — surprised, then groans — hips twitching against your back.
“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, voice low and lethal, not even fully awake.
Naoya moans quietly, lips parting, eyes glazed from the sharp pull on his scalp.
Toji exhales like a goddamn animal, chest rising against your back, cock twitching in your hand.
“Good boys,” you hum, releasing them both with a pat like they’re well-trained pets.
Naoya collapses back onto your chest with a breathy whimper.
Toji presses a kiss to your shoulder, muttering, “You’re fuckin’ dangerous.”
You grin, closing your eyes again. “And you’re both mine.”
You’re nestled between them, eyes closed, half-asleep. One arm draped lazily across Naoya’s waist, one leg tangled with Toji’s, your cheek squished into a pillow, lips slack with sleep.
It would be peaceful. If they could shut the fuck up.
Toji’s voice breaks the silence first—low, gravelly, that early-morning rasp that makes you twitch a little, involuntarily.
“…you make this little bitch whimpers when he dreams.”
Naoya lifts his head slightly off your chest. “Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m just sayin’,” Toji smirks behind you. “I thought you were getting murdered or nutting in your sleep.”
“You’re one to talk,” Naoya snorts. “You were grinding against her ass five minutes ago like a horny dog.”
Toji shrugs. “At least I didn’t cry about it.”
“You cried,” you mumble into the pillow.
“Yeah, but I was emotional,” Naoya mutters. “It was deep.”
You feel it. Them. Both of them. Hard. Again.
Toji’s cock nudging your lower back.
Naoya’s very obvious problem pressed to your hip.
You let out a long, exhausted sigh. Eyes still closed.
“If you both get hard one more time,” you mumble, “I’m tying your dicks together and making you walk to 7-Eleven like that.”
Silence. Then Toji laughs. Wheezes.
“Shit, we’d have to walk in sync.”
Naoya snickers into your collarbone. “We’d look like cursed twins.”
“I hate both of you,” you groan, pulling the blanket over your head.
They both immediately cuddle in closer.
Toji palms your thigh. Naoya kisses your shoulder.
You mutter, “I swear to god, if either of you even breathe horny right now…”
But they’re already giggling like idiots. Because you’re stuck with them.
You’re still buried under the blankets, sandwiched between two warm, muscular idiots who apparently think your body is a fucking jungle gym.
Naoya’s fingertips are tracing lazy circles on your stomach.
Toji’s hand is on your inner thigh, just resting there like it belongs.
And you feel them giggling.
“Stop touching me,” you mumble into the pillow. “No. As I said.”
You don’t even open your eyes. You already know the look on their faces — smug, mischievous, barely-suppressed post-fuck gremlin glee.
Naoya leans closer to your ear. “But you’re so warm and soft and—”
Toji snorts. “And she’s ours now, right?”
You groan. “Yesterday you two wanted to kill each other, and now I’m your shared emotional support victim?”
Toji grins behind you, voice thick with sleep and sarcasm. “What can I say? War makes men bond.”
Naoya hums. “We fucked it out of our system.”
“To be fair,” Toji mutters, “I fucked better than you did.”
Naoya slowly lifts his head off your chest. “Excuse me?”
Toji doesn’t even look phased. “I said—”
“No, I heard you,” Naoya snaps. “You want a medal for mediocre rhythm and dad grunting?”
You crack one eye open. “Oh my god.”
Toji grins. “She moaned louder for me.”
“She was screaming when I made her cum—”
“From the overstimulation I gave her—”
“From the trauma of your existence—”
“Alright, children!” you bark, slapping Naoya’s thigh and pinching Toji’s ass at the same time. “Do I have to put you both in separate corners? Naked?”
They shut up. For two seconds.
Then Naoya leans into your side and whispers: “If we share her again, I go first.”
Toji rolls over you like a freight train. “Like hell you do—!”
You shove the blanket over your head again.
“I’m celibate now. I’m off-grid. I don’t exist.”
They’re wrestling like half-hard feral cats.
And you’re still in the middle. You’re trying—trying—to sleep.
But Naoya’s elbow is digging into your side while he leans across you, still arguing. Toji’s knee is jammed between your thighs, half-climbing over you now, hissing back.
“You came in her like you were baptizing her,” Naoya spits, voice cracking. “There was so much. Like actually, are you okay?”
Toji scoffs. “You were crying and humping her like a freshman at prom, so maybe check yourself first.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Toji mutters.
They’re both on top of you now, leaning over, half-straddling, half-smothering, arms across your stomach and chest like you’re a very soft, very tired battlefield.
You blink up at the ceiling, completely dead inside.
“Fuck,” you mutter. “You’re related. Fucking together. And it’s not even helping. I feel like I’m stuck with the same idiot. TWICE.”
Naoya gasps dramatically. “Wow—”
“Stop being bratty little bitches, oh my god—”
But they’re already giggling again. Actually giggling. Like idiots. Like middle schoolers who just found porn.
That’s when you snap. You reach down without warning and wrap one hand around Naoya’s cock.
The other finds Toji’s instantly.
Both still warm. Both still sensitive. And you squeeze. Again. Hard. Precise.
Toji chokes mid-smirk. His whole body jerks. Naoya squeals like he touched a live wire, thighs twitching, eyes wide.
You hold them firm. Not enough to hurt — but enough to make them shut up.
Naoya nods fast, bottom lip trembling. “Okay—okay—fuck—”
Toji groans low in his throat, hips twitching against your palm. “Shit—yeah—alright, fuck—easy—”
“Good,” you mutter, releasing them like they’re toys you’re bored of.
They collapse to either side of you instantly, breathless, dicks throbbing, faces flushed, silent.
Finally. You close your eyes.
“Toji,” Naoya whispers after a beat.
Naoya: “…we should’ve let her top us from the beginning.”
You sigh. Loud. “Next time I’m bringing a fucking muzzle.”
໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!
be sure to check out my other stuff too <3
gracieabrams
pixelskylines
gamechangershow
origamiaround
tangentwithtanner
discoholicmusic
yousharknotpass
