OVERWATCH COMMUNITY WE NEED MORE SMUTTY OW FICS‼️ like i wish i could get a free shion x domina x junker queen x reader fic thats at least 2.5k wordsssssss👀👀👀👀👀👀 Maybe get a dom!Hog x sub!reader or soft dom!sym x reader fic onna side👀👀👀👀🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽
cw: explicit, M/M/M/F foursome, double penetration, aphrodisiac use, three guys fighting over who gets to make you come next.
Foursome Definition: It’s the visual and physical opposite of the clean, linear Eiffel Tower: instead of a simple line, it’s a dense, sweaty, multi-layered pile where you’re in the center, completely surrounded and filled with cock from all angles at once.
It’s another Friday, 9 PM. The four of you are sprawled around Nanami’s living room—his low table covered in takeout containers, fairy lights strung up because you insisted last month it “makes the vibe less depressing.” The TV’s on some mindless action flick nobody’s watching.
You’re in the middle of the couch between a slouched Kusakabe, already on his third beer and Higuruma still clocked in reading case files. Nanami’s across from you on the armchair, still in his dress shirt.
The conversation drifts, as it always does, to dumb shit. Kusakabe smirks, holding up a small foil packet like it’s contraband. “Yo. Remember that gas station in Shinjuku? They had these honey packs behind the counter. ‘Royal Honey VIP’ or some bullshit. Said it makes you go all night.”
Higuruma doesn’t even look up. “You bought aphrodisiacs from a konbini. Classy.”
“Four of ’em,” Kusakabe says proudly, tossing packets to each of you. “One for everybody. C’monn I just wanna see if it even does anything, but I doubt it will. Might as well test the theory.”
Nanami makes a long-suffering sigh of a man who’s spent two decades corralling these idiots—but he catches his anyway. “This is idiotic.”
You laugh, turning yours over. “Come on, Kento. Live a little. We’ve done stupider things.” He meets your eyes. “Fine. But if I end up in the ER, I’m billing all of you.”
They all rip theirs open at the same time. Thick, sweet honey squeezed onto tongues. It tastes like expensive cough syrup, fucking disgusting.
You’re still sandwiched between Kusakabe and Higuruma on the couch, legs kicked up across Kusakabe’s lap because he claimed “more room” like an asshole. Nanami’s back in the armchair, shirt mostly open now, one ankle crossed over his knee.
“Man,” he drawls, scratching lazily at his stomach under his shirt, “this shit’s hitting different. I feel like I could bench-press a car. Or fuck through a wall.”
You snort. “Romantic.”
Higuruma doesn’t look up from where he’s idly swirling the last of his beer. “You already talk like you could fuck through a wall on a normal Tuesday.”
“Jealousy’s a bad look on you, Hiromi,” Kusakabe fires back, grinning wide. He stretches, arms over the back of the couch, deliberately crowding you more. His thigh presses hot against yours. “But seriously. You guys ever think about how unfair dick genetics are?”
Nanami raises one perfect eyebrow. “We’re doing this now?” “We’re absolutely doing this now,” you say, grinning as you nudge Kusakabe with your elbow. “Go on. Enlighten us.”
Kusakabe takes the invitation to brag. “Look—I’m just saying some of us got blessed, some of us got… adequate.” He side-eyes Higuruma. “No offense.”
Higuruma finally sets the beer down. “None taken. I’ve never had complaints.”
“Exactly,” Kusakabe says, pointing at him like he’s making a winning argument. “You’re long. Elegant. Lawyer dick. Probably slides in like butter. Me? I gotta do warm-up drills.”
You laugh so hard your head tips back against the couch. “Warm-up drills?”
“Yeah. Foreplay for like twenty minutes minimum or it’s game over. Girls either tap out or cry—happy tears, obviously.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Big-dick problems.”
Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re insufferable.”
“You love me,” Kusakabe says cheerfully. Then he turns to you, suddenly conspiratorial. “C’mon, princess. You’ve seen all of us change in locker rooms and shit back in the day. Be honest. Scale of one to ‘monster cock,’ where we ranking?”
You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “I think Hiromi’s got length—like, porn-star proportions. Kento is definitely thick like can’t wrap your hand around it ‘girthy’,” You shoot Kento a wink. “And you Atsuya…” You drag it out just to watch him squirm. “are stupid thick at the base and stupid long everywhere else.”
Kusakabe beams like you just handed him a trophy. “See? Told you. Big-dick problems.”
Higuruma rolls his eyes but there’s a faint smirk. “And yet you still complain more than anyone.”
“Because it’s a curse!” Kusakabe throws his hands up. “Last girl I tried to hook up with—cute little bartender from that spot in Shibuya? We get to her place, clothes off, she’s all ‘yes, yes, fuck me’—then I line up and…” He makes a dramatic wince. “Nope. Too tight. Wouldn’t even take the head.”
You raise both brows. “You’re bragging about not fitting?”
“I’m bragging about the reason,” he corrects, smug as hell. “She was soaked, ready, begging—and still my dick was like ‘nah, we’re good right here.’ Had to finger her open for ten minutes straight before she could even think about taking it. And even then she was whimpering the whole time. ‘It’s too big, Atsuya, it’s too big—’” He drops his voice into a breathy imitation, then grins. “Music to my fuckin’ ears. She was into it. Left scratches down my back. Texted me the next day asking when round two was. I just… need a girl who can handle the whole package, y’know?”
You’re laughing again, half horrified, half turned on because the honey’s making you feel horny as fuck. “So what, you’re saying you need a custom pussy?”
“Basically.” He shrugs shamelessly. “But yeah. Big-dick tax.”
Higuruma snorts softly, leaning back. His slacks are tenting noticeably now—the honey working fast—and he doesn’t bother hiding it. “You talk like you invented the concept,” Higuruma says dryly. “Every guy with more than average girth thinks he’s suffering uniquely. Newsflash: most women don’t need a warm-up marathon unless the guy sucks at foreplay.”
Kusakabe clutches his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, I’m a gentleman. I do the full ritual—kissing, fingering, clit worship, the works. Still gotta ease in though. You wouldn’t get it.”
Nanami, who’s been quietly nursing his beer finally speaks up, “You’re both overselling it. Size is irrelevant if technique is garbage.” He meets your eyes again, “And technique can make even ‘adequate’ feel overwhelming.”
“Oh-ho,” Kusakabe says, catching the shift in Nanami’s tone. “Kento’s getting defensive. What’s the matter? Worried your ‘perfect girth’ isn’t enough to win first place?”
Nanami laughs, arching one brow, “I don’t need to win anything. I know what I’m working with.”
“Exactly my point!” Kusakabe throws his head back laughing. “We’re all walking around pretending we don’t compare but let’s stop bullshitting.” He sits up straighter, suddenly serious—or as serious as Kusakabe ever gets. “I know I’ve got the biggest dick in this room. Hands down. Length, girth, the full combo. But words are cheap.”
He looks around at the three of you, eyes gleaming with challenge. “So prove me wrong. Or let me prove it. Right here. Right now.”
You blink. “You want to… what? Whip them out and measure?”
Kusakabe shrugs like it’s the most logical next step. “Why not? We’re all adults. Let’s settle this like men.” He grins wider. “Or like horny idiots who took sketchy gas station supplements—Fuck me,” he mutters, palm already drifting down to adjust himself through his sweatpants. “This shit’s no joke.”
You snort-laugh, heat crawling up your neck. “You’re actually doing this now?”
Higuruma tilts his head toward you, eyes half-lidded. “He’s been waiting for an excuse since middle school. Might as well settle it.”
Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is the most undignified conversation we’ve ever had. And we’ve had some bad ones.”
Kusakabe grins ferally. “C’mon. Pants off. We compare, then we… test compatibility.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. “You get final vote.”
“Okay… hold up.” Your voice comes out higher than you meant it to. You sit up straighter, legs still slung over Kusakabe’s lap, suddenly hyper-aware of how close his hand is to the seam of your shorts. “You’re seriously proposing this, a dick measuring contest?”
Kusakabe’s grin gets wider, “Yup.” Higuruma lets out an amused huff, “To be fair, you did rank us already.”
“Yeah, but that was theoretical!” You gesture wildly at the three of them. “This is… this is practical application. Like, actual dicks. Out. In the open. For science.”
Nanami’s voice is taunting, “And apparently for your entertainment.”
You shoot him a look and he just raises one perfect eyebrow like you started this. “I mean…” You drag a hand down your face, trying to sound reasonable even though you were fucking so soaked. “This is insane. This is so insane. We’re grown adults. We have jobs. We pay rent. Kusakabe probably has a dentist appointment next week.”
“Thursday,” Kusakabe supplies helpfully. “See? Normal people shit!” You point at him accusingly. Then you drop your hand and exhale hard. “But also… fuck.”
All three of them go still, waiting.
You chew your bottom lip for one more second, then let out a shaky laugh that’s mostly nerves and lust. “Damn it. I’m so fucking wet right now I can feel it on my thighs. And you three just spent the last fifteen minutes talking about how big your dicks are. So yeah. Fine. Whip ’em out. Let’s do the stupid comparison. Because apparently my dignity left ten minutes ago.”
Kusakabe lets out a triumphant “YES!” and immediately shoves his sweatpants down to his knees without another word. His cock slaps up against his stomach already glistening at the tip. The rest follow suit.
“Okay, c'mere boys," you say, sliding off the couch to your knees in front of them. The rug is soft under your shins. You’re eye-level with three very hard, very different cocks, and the visual alone makes your clit throb. “Let’s see.”
Kusakabe steps up first—cocky as ever. He’s thickest: heavy, girthy, maybe 8.2 to 8.5 inches but the width makes your mouth water instantly. Veins prominent, head flushed dark. He strokes himself once, smirking. You wrap your hand around him—fingers don’t quite meet. Not bad I guess, you think to yourself.
Next, Nanami. You have to use both hands again. One around the base—fuck, it’s wide—and the other higher up the shaft. Definitely 8.5 to 8.8 inches. It’s long enough that there’s still room to stroke. The head is flushed angry red, already slick. You give an experimental squeeze and he groans, hips jerking forward.
Higuruma last. Longest by a noticeable margin—8.7–9 inches, slimmer than the other two but with that elegant upward curve and a slight left lean. His cock would definitely bulge through. Darker shaft, flushed head glistening. He tilts your chin up with two fingers while you stroke him experimentally. “You pick a winner yet?”
You wrap a hand around each of them—Kusakabe in your left, Nanami in your right, Higuruma guiding your mouth first. “Too close,” you mumble against the head of Higuruma’s cock before licking a stripe up. “Need… more data.”
Kusakabe laughs already stroking the base of himself while he watches your tongue flick over Higuruma again. “Fuck, beautiful. You’re gonna kill us before we even start.”
You shoot him a mischievous look, then turn your head and take Nanami into your mouth instead, letting your lips stretch wide around that fat head. He hisses through his teeth, one hand immediately sinking into your hair. “Damn.” Nanami mutters, You hum around him in agreement, the vibration making his thighs flex. Then you pop off strings of spit connecting your lips to his tip.
“See? Data.” You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning up at them. “Nanami wins on stretch. My jaw’s already sore and I’ve barely started.”
Higuruma’s long fingers slide into your hair next, guiding you back toward him “Then let’s see how deep you can take length.”
You open for him willingly, tongue flat, relaxing your throat as he feeds inch after inch past your lips. Your eyes water almost immediately. When your nose brushes the neat dark hair at his base you moan, loud and shameless, the sound muffled around his cock. “Good girl,” he murmurs, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth where it’s stretched tight. “Look at you. Taking it so well.” You pull off gasping, spit shining on your chin, eyes glassy. “Okay—fuck—Higuruma wins depth.”
Kusakabe’s had enough of being patient. He steps in closer, fat cock nudging your cheek. “My turn. C’mon, baby.” You laugh because god he’s so impatient and wrap both hands around him again. Even with two hands there’s still shaft left to stroke. You lean in, licking a broad stripe from balls to tip, tasting salt and precome. Then you try. You really fucking try. The head pops past your lips with a stretch that makes your eyes flutter shut. You get maybe halfway before your jaw protests and your throat says nope. You gag softly, pull back, try again—deeper this time—tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
Kusakabe groans like he’s dying. “Fuck—fuck—look at that. Trying so hard for me.”
You manage another inch, cheeks hollowed, before you have to pull off completely, coughing, laughing, wiping your eyes. Kusakabe pulls out of your mouth, flips you onto all fours. Nanami slides underneath so you’re straddling him, sinking down onto his thick length with a gasp. Kusakabe notches at your ass—slowly careful with spit and leftover slick—then pushes in.
You’re already so full from Nanami’s thick cock buried to the hilt in your pussy; every tiny shift of your hips grinds you down harder on him, the fat head nudging against your cunt. “Fuck—breathe, baby,” Kusakabe rasps, one big hand splayed across the small of your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles even as his hips keep that slow, inexorable slide. “You’re doing so good. Taking both of us so perfect.” You can’t answer. Your mouth is open on a silent scream, forehead dropping to Nanami’s shoulder. His hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze and he kisses you while Kusakabe sinks another inch deeper. Kusakabe finally bottoms out his hips flush against your ass, balls heavy against your skin. You feel impossibly stuffed, both cocks rubbing against each other inside you. You break the kiss with a sob. “Oh my god—oh my god—I can feel you both—fuck—”
Higuruma has been patient, kneeling beside the bed, stroking himself long and slow while he watches. He climbs up behind Kusakabe so he can reach you. Long fingers thread into your hair, tilting your head back gently. “Open,” he says. You do immediately, your eager mouth falling wide as he guides that elegant length past your lips. You're a whimpering mess as the three of them find a rhythm almost too quickly, like they’ve done this before in some fever-dream fantasy.
Nanami rolls his hips up in shallow, grinding thrusts—never pulling out far, just enough to drag that thick ridge along your front wall over and over. Kusakabe matches him from behind, pulling out halfway and sliding back in. You whine around Higuruma’s cock and he pulls out just enough to let you speak. “Please—” The word comes out slurred, spit-slick. “Please—more—need—” Higuruma strokes your cheek with his thumb, “More what, sweetheart?”
You can’t think. Can’t form full sentences. “Need… to come—please—fuck me harder—need all of you—”
Kusakabe laughs, “Hear that? Princess wants it harder.” Nanami’s eyes flick up to meet the others—some silent agreement passing between them and then they move.
Nanami plants his feet on the floor and thrusts up harder, deeper, that thick cock bullying against your g-spot before pulling out as does Kusakabe. Leaving you clenching around nothing. Your hips twitch up instinctively, chasing the contact, and a confused little “wha—?” slips out. You blink, dazed and still throbbing. “Wait… what are you guys doing?”
Kusakabe huffs a low laugh, already shifting down the couch again. “Change of plans, princess.”
“Huh?” Your voice cracks, high and needy. You prop yourself up on your elbows, thighs still trembling, “You were literally about to—”
“We were,” Nanami cuts in, leans over you, caging you with one arm braced beside your head. “But then we realized something.”Higuruma finishes for him, “You haven’t come hard enough yet.”
Your brain short-circuits for a second. “I literally just—”
“Nah not like that,” Kusakabe interrupts, already settling back between your legs, his big hands hook under your knees and spread you wider. You open your mouth to protest—something about how you’re already sensitive, but Higuruma silences you with a kiss. “Let us spoil you a little longer,” he murmurs. “You deserve it.”
Before you can form another coherent thought, Kusakabe seals his mouth over your clit and sucks hard. Your back bows off the couch, hands flying to his hair as you moan into Hiromi’s mouth. Nanami moves to your left nipple, taking it between his lips and rolling it gently with his tongue while his hand cups the other breast, thumb flicking the peak.
Every pull of his mouth makes your hips grind up against Kusakabe’s face. Atsuya’s tongue starts flicking fast over your swollen clit, while Hiromi breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down your throat, sucking another dark bruise into the soft skin just above your collarbone while his long fingers slide down to join Kusakabe between your thighs before Hiromi physically pushes him aside. Atsuya lets out an indignant “Oi—!” but he’s already being shoved to the side, sliding off the couch edge with an amused grin. Higuruma takes his place settling between your thighs. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his face into you. He laps his tongue through your folds as Kento continues to switch between sucking your tits and giving you love bites while Kusakabe grips your hair forcing you to look up at him.
You’re about to come until the fucker pulls off, his eyes flicking up to meet Nanami’s over your body. “Your turn, Kento.” Nanami releases your nipple with a soft pop, pressing one last kiss to the peak before shifting down. Higuruma moves aside without protest, sliding up to claim your mouth instead as Atsuya moves onto your breasts now. Kento takes a second to admire how you’re glistening, swollen, dripping down your ass and onto the couch. What a fuckin’ sight. He flattens his tongue against your overstimulated cunt and flicks tiny precise strokes on your clit. “Fuck—Kento—wait—I’m gonna—” Your voice cracks, but he doesn’t stop. You come so hard your eyes tear up. You squirt hard, soaking Nanami’s chin, his chest, and the couch beneath you. Atsuya looks at you in awe, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You gushed like a goddamn fountain.”
Hiromi helps you sit up while Kusakabe pulls you half into his lap, back against his chest, thick arms caging you. Nanami kneels close, one hand on your thigh as he continues to eat you out. Kusakabe groans like he’s in pain, stroking himself faster. “Fuck, Kento, don’t hog her. I wanna feel that pussy too.”
They stroke themselves in sync on you as you attempt to stop trembling from your orgasm. Kusakabe comes first spills across your stomach, thick ropes painting your skin in hot streaks. Higuruma follows seconds later landing on your chest, your throat, one even catching the corner of your mouth as he groans. Nanami lasts longest before coming hard across your thighs marking you everywhere. You’re covered dripping with them.
You’re slumped in Kusakabe’s lap, back plastered to his chest, legs still splayed wide across the couch cushions. Atsuya’s arms tighten around your waist, “Okay soooo…” He drags the word out, “Who the fuck won?”
You feel Nanami snort softly against your thigh where he’s still kneeling, lips brushing the sticky mess he just left there. Higuruma, stretched out beside you now, one long arm draped possessively over your hip, lifts his head just enough to arch a brow at Kusakabe. “Seriously?” he drawls, “We all just came on her, and your first thought is the dick-measuring contest from forty minutes ago?”
Kusakabe shrugs, chin hooked over your shoulder so he can look down at the obscene painting they’ve made of your body. His hands slide up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing idly over your nipples. “I mean… yeah? That was literally the whole point, right?” He grins, “We were supposed to settle who’s got the biggest, best dick in the room. And then we got distracted by—” he gestures vaguely at you, “So c’mon, Final vote. Who wins?”
You let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh that turns into a half-moan when Kusakabe pinches your nipples at the same time. “You’re actually asking me to rank your dicks again right now?” Your voice is hoarse, still shot from screaming, “Fine. Still tied. But Atsuya wins girth, Hiromi length, Kento… perfection.”
Nanami huffs softly against your hair. “Acceptable ruling.”
Higuruma hums, fingers still tracing lazy patterns through the come on your skin. “Or…” he says softly, “we can agree the only real winner is her.”
Kusakabe groans dramatically. “Fine. Tie. Whatever. But I’m calling dibs on eating her out first next time. I wanna see if I can make her squirt faster than you did, Kento.”
Nanami smirks at him already knowing there’s no one who knows how to eat pussy like him. “Challenge accepted, Atsuya.”
Hiromi laughs as he begins cleaning you up, “Give her ten minutes to breathe first,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll see who really wins round two.”
Oh well, Men and their dumb big dicks.
a/n: this ho 17k words. When I tell u I reached a horny flow state that shi was crazy, might as well have written this fic w my hard cock, love u sluts! ALSO credit to @g00miato for this bellísima work OF ART I’m in awe
Guys I need help finding this Toji x sukuna x reader fic where reader just broke up with her bf and she finds 2 roommates on Craigslist and they both had a thing for reader and Toji and sukuna showered together. Please I can’t find it and I wanna re-read it so bad and im ovulating I NEED IT NEOWWWW
you haven't the slightest idea where your brother picks his friends up from. satoru and suguru served only one purpose in your life; to get on your nerves. but when they see you at a party you shouldn't be at, suddenly their bullying and protectiveness seems. . . like something else.
⌗ wc : 7.6k
ᝰ.☆ cws : inexperienced reader :: college life :: alcohol mention :: partying :: mentions of conservative home :: threesome :: dirty talk :: guided masturbation :: fingering :: overstimulation :: m. masturbation :: f. oral :: penetrative sex :: riding :: rough sex :: slut/whore calling :: praise :: slight degradation :: choking :: hair-pulling :: creampie :: recording
ᝰ.☆ sweetheart : let's start kinktober off with a bang <3
While many thought of freedom as clear skies, soaring birds and wide open spaces— to you? Freedom was a red solo cup.
Flashing lights, base-maxed music you could barely comprehend, a sea of bodies moving along to the rhythm of the night. Not a single strict eye in sight. To you, freedom was a dress scandalised around your thighs, your hair down, that bitter taste at the back of your tongue— alright, let's not get too hasty. You settled with water for tonight.
The only risk you weren't taking, really.
College couldn't come quicker. Once your parents finally gave you green light for the dorms? You were off before they could say 'focus on your studies!'
Freedom to you was your own living space. A bathroom full of your toiletries. A fridge stocked up with sugars and fats your brother would wither away with just a scowl. No rules. No curfews. And most of all? No annoying boys hanging around your house.
Your brother was fine. Nanami was a little dull, sure, but his company was the problem. To this day you assumed his two best friends held a gun to his head since preschool. How did he befriend polar opposites to his nature?
Geto Suguru. Condescending, smug, the type of faux sweetness that tested even a saint's patience. The instigator.
His much louder counterpart, Gojo Satoru, took most of the flag. He was an arrogant, rich bastard blessed with both beauty and brains, and the shit knew that.
You couldn't pick which was worse.
All that you knew? 'Annoying' didn't even scratch the surface when it came to pretty bitch boy and his beloved competitive asshole.
But now? You could finally focus on guys that weren't the bane of your existence. Like a certain red-head chatting you up at the drink table. Tall, really tall, big, with the kind of stoicism that made the slight smirk on his sharp face all the more exciting.
"Ah, you're not from around here. Thought as much," the guy, 'Kuna' ( as some drunk girl previously hanging on his arm giggled ), peered over his red cup at you. "Wouldn't forget such a pretty face."
"Mhhm, and how many girls do you pull that on?" It's your turn to smile into your cup as you propped yourself back on the counter. Like a prize to be won. With your mini skirt squeezing around your thighs and confidence in each inch of your stiletto heels.
"Only the ones that catch my attention." He mused. His head curved and his eyes did little to hide their predatory swipe. "And it seems like someone likes attention."
Oh, you were greedy for it.
Brought up in a conservative home where your mother measured your skirt to knee ratio with two fingers? Maybe freedom was also in his eyes. It swirled in the scarlet of them. A threat and a promise all the same. It never tasted sweeter.
Alas, your wings were clipped with a familiar weight strung over your shoulders. Sandalwood engulfed your senses and strangled freedom's breeze. Your gaze froze.
"Fancy seeing you here."
Bitch boy alert. Suguru Geto; the image of rebellion itself. With his ripped black trousers, heavy boots, silvers piercings and chains galore— he smudged your freedom like his eyeliner.
"Kinda late to be out isn't it?" His arm's weight was a feather compared to his stare.
You spluttered. "Geto," as if last names could save you. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Could be asking you the same thing. What're you doing on my campus?"
Shit. Had your excitement to run wild blinded your common sense? This was Suguru's college. You know. The one he and the other brat attend with your brother?
"And who's this guy?" He barely blinked. 'Kuna' did several.
"Thought you'd remember me, Sug—"
"I wasn't talking to you." Suguru's gaze sliced with his words. Sharp, concise, like that damned serene smile on his pierced lips. "And it's Geto, to you. Don't you know who this girl is?"
His fingers curled on your shoulder. There's that cage again. You ignored the flutters his touch pooled in your stomach. A golden cage was still a cage. Who gave him the right to play protective? He wasn't Nanami. And he sure as hell wasn't your friend.
Your shoulders jutted back and you writhed from the heaviness of his preformative protection. "Could you get lost? I didn't ask for your—"
Embarrassment's heat turned wet. All over your blouse. Soaking your skin with the bitter taste you specifically avoided tonight. The cheap booze curled your nose more than the anger.
"Whoops! Sorry there," and in comes the arrogant asshole. With a knock to your shoulder and half his cup across your shirt. His shades hung infuriatingly low on his nose. What the hell does he need glasses for at night?
"What's your problem!?" You jerked around to Satoru who caught your irritation with his signature grin. One that ticked off the gods.
Eyes deeper than the ocean and with all its roaring confidence batted at you almost innocently. "Woah— what're you doing here?"He swiped across the room, no so discreetly glared at Sukuna, then gaped at you again.
"If Kenny sees ya he's gonna freak."
Were you sure it was water in your cup? Suddenly the world's spinning and you're getting auditory illusions. Did Satoru just say that Kento would be here? Nanami Kento. Your stuck-up, straight-spined, strict-stared brother, here, at a college party? You laughed despite yourself.
"Ken? Here?" You pointed an irritated grin his way to hide the nervous twitch in your eye. "Tell me another joke."
"You're right, that blonde hair poking out like a sore thumb looks like quite the joke," Suguru jabbed a finger back and you followed in haste. Sure enough, your brother sat poised across the room. Bored and tight-lipped as an overly smiley woman beside him brushed her hand over his shoulder.
You subconsciously scampered behind Satoru's figure. Tall fucker would hide you like a tree away from your brother's death stare— but not from the bastard's smug one. "Aww, scared?" He crooned.
Embarrassment stained your face and you swivelled to make sure Sukuna wasn't watching. No dice. That red head of hair was already halfway across the floor and chatting up the next sweet thing he could find. Damnit. So much for a fun night.
Instead you're stuck with two grinning jerks, a squeeze of rejection and a dash of paranoia. Great, you love your freedom served with a side of cold nostalgia.
"I hate you both." You murmured. Clipped but thinner than you intended. All you're flashed was teeth.
"Sure you should hate the guys getting you out of this mess?" Satoru spun around. "Our dorm's not too far. Sure I have something to get you out of this," he pinched on damp fabric and you swatted his hand away.
Going back to their dorm? Thing one and thing two? Suicide really. But with one last worried glance at Kento, you chose the lesser evil. Rather doom by your own hand than by his. Last thing you needed was a call to your parents.
"Fine," you hissed, jerking away from the two. "Just get me out of here and keep your mouths shut."
ᘛᰍ𝅄 ׁ
"Oh, you're so much cuter in my shirt."
"Didn't I say keep your mouth shut?"
Their dorm was infuriatingly spotless. Not a hair nor nook out of place. Perfectly divided into serenity and chaos with a dash of mischief on both. Suguru's records lined a wall while Satoru's books and comics painted another. Satoru's bed hosted a rug on the foot while Suguru's sported more comfy-looking pillows. White and black, darkness and light, dancing in a harmony of clean desks ( apart from Satoru's that scattered with a few silly sticky notes ) and furbished walls. The only thing you could curl your nose at was the ash tray on the windowsill. But even that was relatively clean.
With nothing to shame them on and the irritatingly comfortable, oversized dark shirt pooling around your skirt, you turned your chastising to the blue-eyed creep grinning ear-to-ear as you plopped on the edge of his bed. Damnit, it's comfortable. Probably courtesy of Satoru's daddy's money.
"Don't you two know how to mind your own business? I was having fun."
"Last time we checked, our best friend's little sister is our business."
The bed sank to your left and you restrained your glare from Suguru. You couldn't handle his pretty face being beside you right now. His audacity, however, had you swivelling. "What were you thinking? That party was full of seniors."
What did it matter? It wasn't like you were a highschooler. That's what you hated about systems. It was always a rank of age and experience. The truth was that the bumbling rejection from preschool never truly fades as you go through the years, just gains a different name. Here you were, over eighteen and in a skirt clearly for a college girl— and you were still regarded with incompetence.
His pretty face wouldn't save him from your scowl. "I can handle myself. I don't need two assholes to do it for me."
Satoru scoffed from the side and propped himself against the wall with a lazy drawl. "Oh yeah, cause you're sooo grown up huh? Grinding against any man that spares you some attention."
At this rate you'd get vertigo with your pivoting glare between the two. Or maybe your eyes would tumble out first. Maybe then you wouldn't have to deal with their slap-awaiting, vogue-worthy faces.
"Damn right I am. I'm an adult. And you know what Satoru? It's not of your business."
He grinned. The fucker grinned. Hands stuffed into his pockets. You wished it was to search for some decency. Instead he fished out a condescending glint over the rims of his shades. "Do you even have any idea what Sukuna does to young and pretty girls like you?"
You skipped over the part where he called you pretty and clawed your palms to reel in your snap. Too late. "And what if I did, huh? What if that's exactly why I was talking to him?"
Shame diminished your filter, but rushed back to your face once their silence weighed heavy. Of course you knew what Sukuna was all about. Your brother wouldn't stop ranting about people like him. But did you really just admit that? To these two bastards, no less?
Suguru cleared his throat and you deluded yourself with the possibility of his decency. "Oh."
That chuckle was anything but decent.
"Were you hoping to go home with him, then? And what would you do say— once he got you on his couch?"
You'd take the blue-eyed judgement carving into your very being over the shift from the grinning demon at your side. Suguru never said anything without a double meaning. Conniving devil indeed. You stubbornly pressed your lips together. His implication forced you to swallow your shame.
"I'm— not a virgin," you spluttered. Sure. That's exactly what a virgin would say. Satoru's snicker agreed with the sentiment.
Another snap towards him, then back to those devilish teeth and now an arched, pierced brow that looped your tummy. "That's also, not any of your business."
But you made it their business. Prattling on about wanting to be taken home? You sealed your own fate.
"Aren't you?" The weight of your decision came in an arm slumped around your shoulders. You stiffened. But that didn't stop the press of cool metal against the tease of your thigh. Magnetically, your gaze fell to those silver rings that looked like sin against your skin.
Suguru's hand. On your thigh. Dwarfing, veiny, promising. It looked more than just sin. It looked good.
"Because the way you're acting, the way you're dressing," dark nails pinch on your skirt's hem, testing it. Was it as flimsy as your confidence? His lips ran a similar test on the shell of your ear. "—looks just like all the pretty virgin girls I've had fun with."
Your cheeks burned with your failure. A buzzer blared through your head.
Lost. You lost.
And now? You're blushing, trembling, in the hold of a man's hand you swore you'd break the fingers of back when he dared to use your hairbrush. If only you could muster that same hateful stare you mastered back as teens.
Instead, you shot him a trembled glare, tapered at the edges like your crumbling bravado. All it took was a smirk, a predatory head tilt, his damn thumb brushing on your thigh— and your glass house shattered.
"Lookie there."
He leaned in, dangerously so. "You're proving my point, princess."
Princess. You'd heard him use that before on other girls. But it felt better on you. Felt right. And the way his hand slipped to your inner thigh told you he thought the same.
"Inexperienced," condescending. "Do you even know how to touch yourself?" Crude.
You caught his hand that made itself comfortable in your thigh's warmth. Yur stare locked, then darted. Anywhere but him, then nowhere except him. Frazzled. Flustered. Fingers fumbled.
Not for long. His far larger, guiding digits meshed with yours. Stilling their storm and festering a new one in your tummy as he slid them further. "Well, do you?"
Through the winds you chased your pride. "I— do," and whispered your lies. Your salvaged confidence took another hit with his lips traced on your lobe.
"Prove it."
Guiding, taunting, he flushed your fingertips to the damp spot on your panties, as if he had a sixth sense for it. As if he already knew your body better than you did. With your stuttering rub at the spot and your surprised gasp, you wouldn't be too surprised.
One stroke. Two. You rebuilt your pride like building blocks. Even if you laid each one with a trembling ring and middle finger.
There was no time to question the absurdity of this. Nor how embarrassingly quickly you played into his hand and melted to his touch. Maybe he was a demon after all. He pulled on your strings with ease— your hateful spats became soft splutters in a matter of seconds.
"Now," there's that devilish drawl. "You can't forget here too. Dual stimulation is important." His left hand, like a cruel teacher, guided yours to your tit that felt too good rubbing on the material of Satoru's shirt. And you? An eager student, as you pinched on the peak and rubbed on the stiffening nipple.
When one hand worked, the other stumbled. Your pussy throbbed into your panties as if begging for more friction. Listening to it only swapped the falter on your tit. If your test was on dual stimulation, you failed. Miserably.
And as if eager to circle all your faults in red ink, Suguru smiled. "Is this how you touch yourself? No wonder you're so needy."
Revision time. You're yanked into his lap with an effortless pull on your thighs. His touch was natural on your skin. His hands belonged on yours. Large, eager, clamped yet caressed. His palm was large enough to cup your cunt, and your breast nestled humbly in the other.
His fingers nudged yours into place and led them in a practised choreography. Pressing down just right on the damp spot and turning it into a wet one as he guided your fingers into a crook on your quivered slit. The hand on your tit ushered your lax one into a slow swirl on your nipple.
You whimpered. He was right. Dual stimulation was important.
"There we go, princess." That damp spot wasn't just wet after that one, it was soaking.
"Can you keep that hand moving just like that? Good girl." He withdrew below to pat atop your cunt, then bunched your skirt around your tummy to expose your drenched panties.
"Satoru, look."
Wait, that's right, Satoru's still in the room. Oddly quiet for the brazen loudmouth, you thought, and fluttered your glossy gaze over to where he stood.
What awaited was hunger so vast, you saw it clinging to his ribs. Eyes so dark, yet unobstructed by the glasses now haphazardly shoved into his messy hair. But what really stuttered your hand— was his. Shamelessly down his pants. Palming himself.
Fuck.
"She's so clumsy," Satoru rumbled in a voice you hardly recognised. Where's that annoying pitch? You slicked your fingers further.
"I think she just wants me to do all the work."
It sounded like a complaint, but Suguru nudged your hand out of the way eagerly and stroked his index and middle over your slit. Slotting into the fabric and dragging the friction all the way to your throbbing clit. Then circled, drawing out a whimper. In the midst of stimulation you hardly noticed the creeping beneath your shirt. Until you were arching into both fingers rubbing your panties and another set pinching your perky tit.
"Mngh, Suguru," you whined. It earned you a second pinch, this time to your clit. His circles found better favour in abusing the nub. Slow, steady, with a flick every now and then for good measure.
You squeaked and squirmed. He braced you with a tempered squeeze on your breast and a laugh fanned into your neck. "You wouldn't have lasted a minute with Sukuna. Look at how wet you are."
A third pinch, this time to the fabric. He withdrew the wet cotton then snapped it back to your twitching cunt with a shlick! Your whine had him biting his smile.
"Oh poor, poor pretty girl." There's that condensation again, crooned to your ear as the pads of his fingers flushed on the hood of your clit. Those slow circles turned fervent and vicious.
Pleasure pricked on your spine. Your thighs squirmed and squeezed, subjecting you to more pressure— and his hand? Not one stutter, not one stumble, he even had the focus to lave kisses up your neck and thumb your nipple
"There we go— oh? That's a pretty sound," he grinned at your whimper and sped when you arched. Gyrating the fabric so perfectly on your twitching, trembling clit.
"Gonna-"
"Hmm? Gonna what? Say it for me."
"G-Gonna—!"
He'd settle with your broken whine for now. It was too cute not to. A few minutes on your little nub was all it took?
Stars burst behind your eyelids and your head limped back on his shoulder. Pathetic grinds became needy hip bucks. Not that you needed it. Not when his fingers barely stopped through your orgasm. Feverish, fluid,
And free.
True. Unwavering freedom. Right there. In the palms of this smug bastard's hands.
If your mind wasn't amuck, you might have cussed him out. But how could you when he crooned to your ear so sweetly? When he tendered kisses down your jaw and squeezed your breast in what you could only coin as assurance?
Poor you. So lost in his, "Atta girl. That's how you touch yourself." —that you barely processed the cool air hitting your slick cunt. In fact, only when soft tuffs tickled your thighs did you snap your gaze down.
Pantieless, with pretty, blue eyes gleaming up at you. If Suguru's hands looked good on your thighs? Satoru's face belonged between them.
"Suguru's right, y'know? You'd barely last a second with Sukuna. That's okay though," his lips caressed your inner thigh, and before you could think of clenching, he wrenched them open. His hands were softer, but dare you say deadlier?
"We could always break you in."
He winked. You stuttered.
Freedom might have been a red solo cup at the beginning of the night. But now? It was a head of white hair and glossy lips kissing up your jittery slit together with a glint of silver rings and calloused fingerpads still swirling on your clit.
You throbbed into Satoru's mouth and limped your head into Suguru's, he kissed atop your head instinctively. "Mngh," another stutter, another throb, Satoru vibrated a chuckle.
"So cute."
Cute, wasn't what it felt like when his tongue dipped in. Together with a firm pinch from Suguru. You gushed around the pink muscle. With a gasp, a whine, something in-between. It was Sastoru's turn to stumble.
"Fuck, so sweet," he groaned into your pussy. How eagerly she accepted his praise. Pulsing into his thumbs that split your folds and the flat of his tongue dragging on your opened slit. "Can't believe you were gonna whore out such a sweet pussy."
His mouth carried out the frustration with sloppy kisses. Suguru shared the sentiment with a tug on your tit and nip on your neck.
But it was Satoru's tightened grip that sealed the deal. Suddenly, smugness wasn't the only thing radiating off of the two. The pair of bastards that you shamed your brother for befriending, the twins of chaos that drove you up the wall—
It was more than suddenly. It was painfully. How did you miss the signs?
Smug? Arrogant? All underlined. But the true factor that drove their haughty hands and heated mouths?
"If you wanna act like a whore, we'll treat you like one."
Jealousy.
After the growl, Satoru fisted your thighs so wide, you wouldn't even think of clenching them. Not that you'd have any string of coherent thought as his face dove into the wetness of your pussy and feasted on it like a man starved. Or perhaps a college boy running on two cups of coffee and even lesser sleep. Which was worse?
You jolted. His kisses became licks, and his licks became sucks. Sloppy yet skilful over your slit. From the hilt, then to the top when his lips brushed on Suguru's knuckle, then back to the middle where his tongue made quick work on spilling out more of your sweet slick.
The latter. The latter was most definitely worse.
Wet shlicks meshed with whimpered shudders. You arched into his face and bucked your hips as best you could. Suguru's fingers barely let up. Three now flat on your clit, with his circling turned to flicks over the poor, overly-stimulated nub.
"W-Wait— oh god, wait," you quivered. Bleary eyes darted to their ceiling. Your thighs clenched into Satoru's hold and tits twitched in Suguru's clutches.
You'd barely been fingered before. Let alone gone dumb on someone's tongue. And four sets of hands? It was too much for your body that only experienced one.
Your grip delved into white locks and another latched on black leather. With the leverage, you bucked and stammered as your body limped back into warmth, all while a cool tongue wrecked your sopping heat.
Filthy. The sounds were filthy. From your webbed lips, from Satoru's slick ones, from Suguru's filthy, ratched ones.
"Wait? Want us to wait? Just showing you what college life's all about, princess." Two more pinches, Satoru doubled down with a loud shlurp, and you cried into the stimulation.
White blinded your vision. Heavy and hot as you pulsed into Satoru's awaiting mouth and twitched into Suguru's cruel fingers. Once, twice, then burst. Slick and messy, all over a chin that ground on you with the rest of his face.
Your orgasm rode out into the endless prickles of pleasure. Held tight on the line of delirious and dumb. But those hands? That mouth? Not one stutter. They weren't you. Inexperienced, clumsy little you who can't even touch herself.
They were cruel. Maybe more than you thought with the way their efforts doubled. Suguru's flicking turned to quick, sharp tapping and Satoru's tongue shoved in and fucked you in a way even your fingers couldn't.
You tensed. That knot in your stomach barely loosened. It burst into a heat that jolted your thighs and squirmed your upper half. "I— I-I can't—" you cried.
Shame. Seemed they liked that. Satoru's eyes rolled, Suguru's narrowed.
"Can't?" Another slap, you jolted with your clit. "Course you can. You're a needy little slut after all? Hmm? Toru, what's that pussy telling ya?"
"Mhhm," Satoru slurred in response. Muffled, wet, messy, as his pointed nose nudged your hood. "Sluttiest— mnghh, fuckin' girl."
If you thought that murmur was greedy, you weren't ready for his lip lock around your clit. Sealed tight on the nub and sucking down in a mix of spit and slick. Suguru clicked his tongue. Satoru always stole his spot.
No matter, he found a better one. With two fingers slick in your cum and shoved into your cunt. They take up a speed that matches the tempered sucking. Quick, punishing, greedy.
You sobbed into the air and pitifully squirmed in Suguru's lap. A pathetic mix of their names drooled from your stuttering mouth. The hand in Satoru's hair turned desperate, he mimicked with his sealed lips and vibrating groans.
You weren't sure what to focus on. The blinding tingles on your crying clit or thick fingers fucking you open and expertly finding that spot you could only dream of.
Was focus even in your dictionary? Not when your pussy clenched in warning and pleasure shot so far up your spine, it knocked the breath from your lungs. The only thing you were good at in this moment was cumming around Suguru's fingers and throbbing into Satoru's lips.
"Toru, Suguuu—wait, please, hngh please-" freedom, capture, the lines blurred as you limped into trapping arms but soared with bucking hips and slutty moans.
"Fuck, what would your brother think?" Suguru bit on your lobe and ground his hips into the cleft of your ass. Your limping weight added just the right friction.
From below, Satoru showed his greed knew no bounds as he released your clit with a lewd pop! only to rush kisses down to your oozing cunt and suck around Suguru's fingers. "He'd hate us. Keeps tellin' us to stay away from you." He heaved.
The audacity. He made you see stars, knocked your breath that you're still trying to catch, and he's breathless? You'd mock him for his pussy-drunkness if it weren't for your mess of glazed eyes and glossy lips.
Besides, he recovered quicker than you. Satoru stood and braced his buckle with an eagerness to get to his zipper. Halted only by Suguru's hum.
"Now, shouldn't we settle this fairly? See who gets this sweet cunt first?"
Their stare locked over your shoulder, and you just so happened to roll your slumped head onto Suguru's and crack an eye open to see Satoru's balled fist. Suguru's followed.
What in the. . .
"Fine, let's settle this reasonably." Satoru huffed. Reasonable seemed to come in a silent chant of three.
Rock.
Paper.
Scissors.
Seriously? You're quickly reminded that you grew up with these two idiots. If you weren't quivering with your cunt on full display and leaking all over the bed, you would have scoffed. Instead your brow arched.
Satoru's fingers jutted in a pair, Suguru's remained balled. Rock beats scissors, Suguru grinned— Satoru groaned. "Fuck." He slumped back into his desk chair with the theatrics of an art major.
You went to roll your eyes and chastise. But your gaze gaped and mouth ran dry when a small click and zip revealed that you had bigger problems to worry about. Much bigger problems.
Suguru's dick sprung from his briefs and slapped back onto your cunt. You'd heard a thing or two about cock before. They were either girthy, or long, but Suguru's? Thick. With enough length to consider him monstrous. And right on the underside, like a bow on a behemoth, a silver glint caught your eye— a frenum piercing just below his pronounced tip.
"It's. . ." You gulped.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Satoru grinned.
"We're not beating the allegations when you say shit like that, Satoru." Suguru grumbled.
His tip smooched your entrance in a lewd hello, then glided through your slick. As if coaxing your poor, trembling slit to calm down. Much like his caressing hands that stroked your inner thighs and spread you wide. Like his cooing voice on your ear.
"Sshh, pretty girl. I've got you. Treat my poor little virgin girls so good, I promise."
A small pop! followed your whimper and your thighs locked— but rough, tender hands guided them apart. "Breathe for me baby. Stay nice and open." Tender strokes on your hip loosened your muscles. As if your body wanted to be good for him.
It did. Wanted to be his good girl. The pretty thing on his lap as you took him in. Inch by agonising inch.
If your fingers were nothing compared to his? They were laughable when compared to his cock. Slick walls gushed and contracted, throbbed and tightened. Each pulse another beg that his girth happily obliged to: stuffing you further.
"Sugu," you broke, and he swore, it was what angels were made of.
Those calloused hands knew nothing but caresses. Over your hips, your sides, cupping your breasts with an encouraging squeeze. His kiss calmed the drumming in your ear. "Easy does it. Taking it so well. Righ, Satoru?"
"So well," Satoru agreed, so soft you barely heard. And for a moment, a devastating moment, you considered a world where that 'performative protectiveness' truly was care.
Another push to your gummy resistance as your cunt clamped tight. The fullness bubbled hiccups in your throat as your hand scrambled for Suguru's wrist while his hands palmed your thighs.
Don't look down, don't you down.
You looked down.
Met with not only a bulge you've only heard about in fiction— but the hilt of his cock. Throbbing, thick, and oh so slicked in your pouring wetness. Like a gift that keeps on giving. To say he stretched you out was an understatement. No, he devoured you. Veins thrumming into your nerves, tip smooched heatedly into a withering spot that sent your toes curling, and filling up every crevice to the point where you weren't sure which part was you and which was Geto fucking Suguru.
The sight had you clenching, gripping around his dick in a vice that begged him not to leave. He hissed into your shoulder. "Fuck, she's tighter than we thought."
Any questioned died on your tongue as he withdrew. Leaving you empty only halfway, but still a few inches too much for your whining, slippery pussy— only to scold her impatience with a quick, easy pump. You scrambled.
"Wh-What do you—" air was a luxury. Like his hands palming your breasts, like his lips laving your neck. "What do you— you mean? Thought?"
Suguru fell into a leisure rhythm. Slow, testing. He eased you through the sting and loosened your needy walls with a swirling thumb to your clit.
Through your shaky breaths and fluttering eyes, you blearily watched as Satoru slanted back into the chair with a hand matching the pace of Suguru's thrusts. If you weren't so occupied with the dick dragging through your folds and that filthy piercing grazing on a perfect sweetspot, you'd have taken a moment to familiarise his cock, too.
"Isn't it obvious?" Suguru grunted, his hands squeezed on your thighs and wrenched them to strain over his lap. Two grinds into your cervix made you whimper from fullness— only to pitifully whine as he retracted to the tip. "Wanted this pussy since forever. Then you had the audacity to put it on advertisement."
Every whine, every whimper, knocked from your chest with air as his hips slammed back. A nasty squelch paired with a sharp slap reverberated. He caught your squirming by the waist and shoved you onto him. Squeezing in the last inches of his cock until the head gyrated on your cervix like a warning.
"So c'mon now." He laughed, breathless, feral, as his strength effortlessly bounced you on his dick that thrust up in a ruinous rhythm. Faster, with purpose, splattering your slick all over your thighs and his.
A lewd beat of balls slapping your folds, your ass clapping down on him and your sweet cries sung into the air heavy with the smell of sex. Like a lewd symphony building into a slutty crescendo.
"Show me what a slut you can be, huh? Fuck me back, yeah— fuck, that's it princess." How pathetic a princess can be. Sloppy and clumsy as your hips take up a stuttering fumble. Just barely mimicking his guiding hands ragdolling you on his dick. "This is how you ride cock. Just like that. Doing so well."
You just barely managed to catch another groan. Deeper, breathier. Through wet and weak eyes you see Satoru, neck crooked and stained fingers squeezing round his girth. Your mouth waters at the drips of precum— but your eyes cringed at a flash.
Only then did you notice his other hand gripping around his phone as if he couldn't focus on which palm actually held his dick. He nursed on his pink lip with sharp teeth, hazy eyes flickering between the screen and the real thing. There, all wet, and wide, and whimpering on Suguru's lap.
"She's messin' all over, Suguru." Satoru rasped.
"Sure you love that. 's your bed." Suguru chuckled.
And since he was such a good best friend, he leaned back, spread you wider as he fisted on the fat of your thighs. He wrung you open on full display so the camera caught every inch of your glistening, sopping pussy. Every clench around his dick, every bit of that ring of filthy cream you left around his base. And most importantly? How you splattered and spilled every time he emptied to the tip, grazed his piercing on the hilt of your slit— then rammed back in.
You're a mess of whimpering sobs and a crying pussy as you limped back into Suguru, splaying yourself further into the heat of finally, finally getting fucked open. And by your brother's best friend no less.
"Awww baby," Satoru crooned. "Listen to those whimpers. Really think you'll survive the real world like this? So fucked-out and you haven't even cum yet. Filthy girl."
Filthy, they called you filthy while their tongues were capable of sins. As if Satoru wasn't fisting his leaking dick and documenting this moment. As if Suguru wasn't sucking hickies all over your neck, pinching on a tit while two fingers messily swirled on your clit.
If you were filthy? They were disgusting. Disgusting for wanting you like this, for taking you like this. And you? All the same for clenching around a guy's cock you swore to hate for the rest of your life, and soaking the other's sheets.
"This," a thrust rammed into your cervix as clamping hands ground you into the bursts of heat arching your spine. "This is what it is to be fucked. Feels good, doesn't it?" Your clit stung into a wet slap then throbbed into the mean pinch of his thumb.
You nodded, brokenly, deliriously, "yes, yes, feels so good— hngh sugu, feels so good—" tears stained your hot face. Your mouth fell open in a web of saliva and he chased the trail with eager lips down your jaw.
"'m gonna— ah - gonna— please!" Your nerves flared, tummy taut. That devasting knot reformed with a pool of blistering heat. You bucked down rapidly, pitifully, as if you had any control of how his cock bullied your squelching walls.
Suguru caught your high with a breathless laugh and cruel swipes on your clit. Sending you from cloud nine into an endless void of spasms and stars splitting before your rolling eyes.
You didn't just clench— you squeezed the life out of him. Milking every vein and squeezing around his cockhead smooching your cervix until his maw slacked and fell into your shoulder. Brows furrowed, teeth biting, he bucked into the curve of your ass and suffocating pussy while gripping onto the last shreds of his sanity. Not now, not—
"Suguru, ohgod suguuuu,"
Shattered. He humped into your heat with a grunting whine and met your flood with his spill. Shooting ropes, upon robes of thick, creamy heat into your pulsing pussy.
"Fuck." His hand abandoned your tit for your jaw, swiveling your head and shoving your lips to his. So that teeth clattered, tongues twisted, and his barbell piercing took your breath away.
You're lost. Ears full of cotton, lungs crying for air, face smudged with streaming mascara and smeared lipstick. But to Suguru dizzy on your saliva and the now panting Satoru? You were beautiful.
While he parted his mouth, his cock remained buried. Eagerly grinding into your prickling bundle of nerves that shook you with more sobs. "Already crying?" He grinned. There's the devil again.
"Baby, you haven't even taken toru."
The world tilted. You're whining from emptiness. The taste of cotton pillows and the feel of wrinkled sheets smoothed on your tummy comforted your now vacant, raw pussy. The weight below shifted into something heavier above you. Flushed into your ass and the curve of your spine with white stands tickling your cheek.
Your oozing cunt wasn't lonely for long. Another plush tip shoved between her messy folds and twitched at the glaze smearing all over. You choked on the hand curling round your throat to cradle you— or yank you back. You didn't know, you didn't care.
Not when your eyes were rolling and pussy was splitting for a second girth. Shoved careless, and zealous with the eagerness of a man starved. And while your sweetspot missed the piercing, your cervix loved how this one shoved into it head-on. Not a smooch, but a smack.
"She's gushing so much," a low groan melted into your whine as a sharp nose dug into your cheek. Shaper teeth grazed on your ear and his long fingers squeezed on your throat. "Feels so good to be a slut, huh sweet girl?" Satoru rumbled. His body was smoother than Suguru's, but a bit bigger, deliciously so.
When you answered with babbles, a small drawback and wet snap! morphed it into a crying confession. "Yes, yes, fuck— Satoru, feels s'good."
He chuckled at your slurs, a rough sound grinding into your ear the same way his cock grated into that sweltering bundle of nerves. "Might wanna hold on tight, sweet girl." His fingers released your throat for your scalp, delving in almost gently as his pace faltered with.
"Not gonna be as gentle as Suguru."
Your eyes widened into the sheets. If what Suguru did to you was considered gentle then—
"Hngh!"
Your cry muffled into cotton as his fingers clenched in your hair and shoved your face into the mattress. But nothing compared to the tempered piston that were his hips. Hot, heavy and haughty as they pounded ripples into your soft ass.
Wetness squeezed and spluttered from your dripping pussy. Smearing Satoru's cock all over and showing him what he was missing. Now that he had it? He was feral and filthy in your ear, in his pace. Trapping you into the sheets with nowhere to run. Nowhere to the hide. Just to be his.
His whore. Their little slut. Until you were spurting out whimpers like the stringy mess pouring from your quivered slit.
"I can't— S'toru- I can't take iitttt."
Overstimulation bled into your tears, and despite your pitiful whines of heat and desperation, your ass still attempted to hump back into him. He huffed a laugh into your hair.
"That right baby?" A nasty hump on your cervix pitched your sobs. "That why you're— fuck, clenching like that? Slutty pussy's tellin' on you, y'know."
A second chuckle joined, one more graceful. Mirroring the hand that cupped your face and brought your head into black leather. Suguru crooned above you as he nudged your bobbing head into his lap. "Oh, can't you? Thought you could handle yourself."
So cruel, yet so comforting. While Satoru's balls barraged against your folds and he chased bruises on your ass, hell— your cervix too— Suguru stroked a thumb on your wet cheekbone and smeared your mascara against his nail polish.
He clicked his tongue, something between condescending and considerate as his thumb swiped over your drooling lips. From your eyes rolled back, you couldn't witness his heated stare. Instead, you spluttered over his hand with whorish moans.
Blurred, incomprehensible, but spiked in a pitch when a sharp spank vibrates your ass. Only to grip and shove it straight back into the mattress. Open and raw against punishing thrusts that made your cries turn into squeals. "This," Satoru hissed, squeezing on fat so it bulged through his finger gaps.
"This is what you gotta expect from guys." He sneered. But his tone quickly shifted as his warm palm cupped below your jaw and yanked your head back to face him. So that your looping eyes, drooling mouth and cute little whines were right below him. He corrected himself with a chuckle.
"Nah, this is what you should expect from us. Know damn well this pussy is ours now, huh?"
He punctuated with a cruel pinch and rub on your clit paired with an angle that knocked the breath from you. Still, you spluttered yieldingly. "M-Mhhm! Mhhm! All— all youurrss hngh."
He twitched. Deep, devastating, and you clenched just in time to send his eyes fluttering too. "Say my name," he gasped. Something rough, something desperate.
"Satoru," you whined, babbling into his fingers that shook around your cheeks, squishing them so your saliva strung. "S-Satoru, Satoru— toru- torutoruuu." You shattered.
Another tug, this time to your hair. Sugur's fingers joined the mix as your strands meshed with silver rings. "Hey now," he breathed. "Don't leave me out. Say mine prettily like that too, princess."
How could you deny him? "Suguuuu," you whimpered. "Suguuruu- sugu, angh, I can't—" Your fingers curled into the sheets, and he quickly snatched your hand. Satoru grabbed the other, yanking it back to where he held you down by the hip.
"Can't?" He mocked.
"Cannn'tt, 'm— fuck, please, s'too much."
While you keened from overstimulation, your pussy drooled and strung all over. Spurting that delicious, addictive cream that scratched at Satoru's sweet tooth. You clamped round his cock. Eager to milk him like you did Suguru. And he whimpered, then grunted.
"Don't think so, sweetheart." He slipped his hand to squeeze tight on your throat and withdrew to the tip, only to piston forward. Bottoming out so your squelching walls were stuffed to the brim and he could abuse your cervix with brutal hammers.
"In fact, I think you're gonna cum," he laughed. Loud, and boisterous, and arrogant. All in the same way he pounded sobs from both your lips and pussy. "Right? Cum for me. Cream my dick baby."
Oh you did more than cream. As your eyes squeezed and your body spasmed, the clench of your wall didn't come with a warm bubble— but a hot stream. A loud, lewd squirt pulsing from your cunt and spraying both of your thighs.
You cramped up, he tensed, but never faltered. Riding out your high while chasing his with stuttered moans and a rambling tongue. "Fuuckk, a squirter," he heaved, voice breaking as the knot within him snapped and he repaid your gift tenfold. Pumping you full for the second time that night. Until your poor pussy was squelching the combination of fluids from your slit and officially ruining Satoru's bed.
Fuck.
"Can tell ya, no guy's gonna be able to do that to you." He groaned, damp hair tickling your cheek when his face fell into your shoulder and his body collapsed onto you. You choked a whine from the pressure, and finally managed to catch your breath as the pistoning pounds became small rocks. Until nothing more but a throbbing, softening dick.
Satoru slipped from your wetness with a whimper you barely heard. Soon the sheets were replaced by a warm chest and you panted into the scent of sandalwood wrapped around you. Deft fingers rubbed on the back of your scalp.
"No guy's gonna do this for you either," Suguru mumbled as his arms held you against him. Satoru joined behind you, his still, somehow cold arms, hooking around your waist and squeezing your thighs that he's evidently obsessed with.
His kisses pressed into the heat of your neck. Each one of them weaving out the intensity of being not only fucked, but overstimulated and stuffed. At last, you relaxed into them. Nothing but panting breaths, quivered thighs and soft whimpers.
The silence blanketed you in silk. And for yet another moment, you forgot whose arms you trembled in. Better yet, whose cocks you let ruin you. Realisation dawned when you caught that satisfied smirk tugged on Suguru's mouth.
"You're both so annoying." You managed, but the way your lips fell to Suguru's shoulder and your fingers laced with Satoru's told another story.
"But you love us, hmm?" Satoru mumbled into your neck with a boyish grin and you wished you pores would secrete poison to kill him in that moment.
Anger's heat melted into an embarrassed simmer, however, and you spluttered a fluster of barely strung together 'what's' and 'how's'. You're shushed by Suguru's thumb on your lips.
He smiled. "You're very obvious."
But his kiss to your ears and Satoru's to your scalp told you there was nothing to fear. If your past self could see you now, she'd scoff and spit at you. But you didn't care. Happiness seeped beneath your ribs and you bit back a smile as they snuggled into you. Trapping you between them, but it was the furthest thing from a cage.
This? This was freedom.
"We've got you." Suguru whispered. "We'll take care of you."
"Later, though." Satoru winked.
You stiffened when Suguru didn't seem to correct him. Suddenly, their smiles looked more sinister than sweet.
Pretty bitch boy slipped his hand down to squeeze on your ass. And his beloved, competitive asshole? He murmured to your ear with a husked rumble.
synopsis: Your doting, caring husband has recently had a change of behaviour. It’s like you don’t even exist. His new routine consists of working, eating, working, sleep, repeat. All the meanwhile you’re wondering what on earth you could have done to deserve such treatment? One day, you decide to confess him about it…
warning: established relationship, reader x higuruma hiromi, pvssy eating, nose riding, trouser bulge, light sp@nking, dry hvmping, gr!nding, tongue fvcking
Higuruma Hiromi was a man of business. He’d built a great career for himself that paid generously. Luckily, he met you, opening up a whole new world of love for him, and he was grateful for that every day.
However, as of late, his behaviour had begun to change. The man who used to call you daily on his lunch break now barely picked up his phone to answer your messages. The man who was clingy and loving had turned into a distant version of himself and now seemed to have completely forgotten about you.
When you lay awake restless in the night, only the gentle breathing of the stranger in the bed next to you filling the silence, you’d remember the memories from the beginning of your relationship. He showed great care and patience with you during the month, where each of your four personalities would come out. How he remained so calm all the time was impossible for your brain to comprehend.
So, as you stare at the ceiling, wide-eyed and pondering, your brain resorts to the worst case scenarios. Was he cheating? Did he lose feelings for you? What would life be like without you for him? Would he just continue on with his daily life and not miss you at all?
Eventually, you turn with a frustrated grunt before forcing your eyes closed. And when morning finally came, the sunlight seeping in past the curtains, he’d leave one measly kiss on your cheek before leaving. He used to be literally obsessed with you and you just couldn’t understand this new change.
He worked all day, twelve hours spent in the office leaving you, his poor wife, at home all alone. When he did finally return home, he’d eat dinner and isolate himself in his home office until bedtime. You just wanted to scream in frustration.
You tried so many new methods, bought new slutty pyjama’s that barely covered your ass and left nothing to the imagination. Still nothing. You pinched yourself on the daily hoping you were in some fucked up romantic dark comedy nightmare, but it never worked.
Maybe he was focusing on his career. That was fine. Trying to find a new sense of purpose? Fine, you’ll allow it. But you were right there, waiting for him every day and hoping to have a conversation longer than five words. Was he just merely pranking you?
Your husband, the most devoted and attentive man to ever set foot on this planet, had turned into something horrible. Hell, you hadn’t had sex in over three weeks. What type of husband does that to his wife?
One day, when you finally decide you’ve had enough, you wait by the front door at the time he’s supposed to get back from home. To nobody’s surprise, he’s late.
You resort to waiting in the living room with your arms folded over your chest like a pouty toddler. When the door finally clicks open, you immediately stand and head towards the front door.
However, to everybody’s surprise, Higuruma is stood there lazily kicking his shoes off with a massive bouquet of flowers in one hand and a gift bag looped over the same forearm. When he glances up, a tight smile tugs over his lips, it’s tired but you can still tell it’s genuine.
“Sweetheart,” he begins quietly, stepping forward. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been working too much and neglecting you. But, I wanted to give you these.” He extends his arm and you take the flowers and bag.
Setting the items down on the kitchen island, you take a look inside, pulling out two small slips of paper. Plane tickets… to your dream holiday destination.
You don’t say anything for a long while.
“Two weeks,” Hiromi adds. “I needed to work extra to get the holiday approved.”
You slam yourself into his chest within seconds, arms wrapping around his neck as you squeeze him tight. “You asshole! Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I’m sorry, darling. I wanted it-“
“To be a surprise? Yeah, yeah. I thought you were cheating on me or something crazy.”
He scoffs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “You think so lowly of me.”
“How can I not when you isolated yourself from me for weeks?”
A brief pause before he nods gently. “Fair enough.”
When you pull away, theres tears brimming in your waterline. Hiromi extends one thumb and wipes them away softly, placing loving kisses against your whole face.
“I’m still mad at you by the way,” you add when he pulls away.
“Oh, I know, baby. I plan on earning your forgiveness day by day.”
You lift your eyes to him. “Oh really? How will you start?”
“I will start-kiss-in-kiss-the-kiss-bedroom.” He finally places a firm kiss against your lips, one hand onto the back of your head to prevent you from moving away. Not that you would have done anyway.
——————————
“Sit, darling.”
“Romi-“ you whine. “I- ah!”
He grabs your hips and pulls you down onto his face, tongue immediately attacking your clit and making you squeal loudly, hips stuttering. Eventually, you find and match his rhythm, grinding against his face as his mouth hungrily licks and slurps your arousal. When he pushes you up his face a few inches, the tip of his nose brushes against your clit as you grind. An embarrassingly loud, pornographic moan spills past your open lips and you pause. Higuruma gives your ass two taps to encourage you to keep going and you slowly start again, hands tightening in his hair and gripping firmly as his nose rubs against your clit during every grind whilst his tongue fucks your pussy ravishingly.
At this point, you’re just dry humping his nose, mouth salivating at the feeling as you get whinier and nosier, only encouraging your husband to work faster and push your hips back and forth quicker. You’re certain you almost ripped his hair out as your orgasm crashes down over you, head tipped back in ecstasy and thighs tightening around his head.
You lift your hips from his face sheepishly, already a little embarrassed from loud you were and how you were practically treating him like a sex toy. Yet, when you look down at his face, covered in a sheen layer of slick, he has the most fucked out, loving expression on his face. His eyelids flutter as you slide down onto his lap, feeling his hardened bulge beneath you. Pushed up onto his elbows, his shoots you a grin. “Fuck, sweetheart. I missed the taste of your pussy so much.” He leans up and presses a hungry kiss against your lips. “So sweet.” Another kiss. “All mine.”
You giggle breathlessly. “Still no forgiveness yet, though.”
“Of course not, darling. I don’t expect you to have forgiven me yet.”
You loop your arms loosely around his neck. “You’re so wise and mature.”
His eyebrows lift in amusement. “Careful. I’ll start thinking you’ve secretly given me forgiveness.”
“Oh, never,” you tease. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”
He pulls your legs to wrap around his waist before lifting himself up and crawling atop you on the mattress, your back pressing down against the covers. “An incredible, intelligent, gorgeous one,” he murmurs against your lips. “And her husband will do anything to make peace with her.”
this is a multi masterlist below, you can find every works for mine here. i’ve put the name / characters i’m writing for in bold.
i tend to forget updating my masterlist so you guys can easily find my latest post here — minors do not interact!
🜼 ⋆ nanami kento
cockwarming. you’re his to love. taking care of you. putting you on headlock fucking. tummy bulging. bfsdad!kento. handjob overstim. morning sēx. skincare whilst cockwarming. getting bricked up when you’re aid his wound. kento sings you happy birthday. sitting on his face. giving him a blow job. nanami hates when you push him away. overstimulating him till he’s bowing forward.
🜼 ⋆ higuruma hiromi
dad’s best friend!hiromi fucks you nasty. pervy, pantie thief!hiromi
🜼 ⋆ toji fushiguro
reverse cowgirl with toji. missionary with toji. girl dad toji. thigh fucking. first time with toji. girl dad toji pt ii. deflowering. blowjob. hates when you cover your face. fucks you smart. sugardaddy!toji. olderbf!toji let you use him. toji edging his sweet virgin girlfriend. force you to watch him finish
🜼 ⋆ sukuna ryomen
lazy handjob. accidentally squirting. stalker!sukuna. riding his abs. shower sēx gone wrong. dicking your soul. “daddy, pass me the salt?”
🜼 ⋆ choso kamo
gush on it. publicly fingering you. keep it quiet. loves to play with your tits. holding him down. pervy bf!choso. gamer!choso fuċks you. frat bf!choso. you find his toy. habit of talking to your pussy. plug!choso sideways fucking. fucks you good proper.
🜼 ⋆ gojo satoru
offkey:grieving you. fuck buddies: one sided. soft bath. skin to skin. fucking pink toy. artist!satoru paints you. fuċks you numb. freakiest in the morning. freak in the morning. stuffed with his cock. blows air on your clit.
🜼 ⋆ geto suguru
piercer!geto: tits play. fuck you back in line. suguru love it between your tits.
🜼 ⋆ multiple characters x reader
spitroast: satoru x reader x suguru. challengers crossover: suguru x reader x satoru.
🜼 ⋆ clark kent (superman 2025)
riding him [skin to skin]. fucking mid-air. i’ve got you, sweetheart. tummy bulging w clark. clark’s best friend. riding clark’s abs. clark using his x-ray vision. d so big xxl condoms don’t fit. pussydrunk!clark. c. warming + spooning. clark is a virgin. clark makes it fit in you. brat tamer!clark.
Pour it Up Masterlist / Stripclub Owner Sukuna headcanons
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight (final)
Extras- here
Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader
Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.
Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, teasing and mafia related violence, some former trauma of reader, lots of smut and also fluff, watch Kuna morph into a softie hehe.- Ties into the Satoru x reader story Losing Control Now
FInished- WC 54k - ao3 link here - Playlist
Headcanons/story preview below!
Stripclub Owner Sukuna- who loves what he does, the money he makes, the women, the entire atmosphere. What more could he really need in life?
Stripclub Owner Sukuna lights up a blunt with his co owner, Toji, as they lounge back on one of the bright red Sofa's, watching their girls dance around them while they hold business meetings. Sukuna certainly doesn't mind beautiful women, nor does he mind snorting coke right off them.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna throws back a shot, when suddenly he sees someone so different, so fucking pretty it makes his heart thud in his chest. He can barely stop himself from yanking you right away from this. He's slicking back pastel hair when Toji introduces you so casually, wearing a pretty silver bikini that shows too much of your sexy body. You look shy? You look nervous?
Stripclub Owner Sukuna takes your hand then, smirking at you, watching the blush decorate your cheeks, when he finds you're going to be a dancer, he immediately wants to say no, dance for just him, a level of possession he's never even felt with his girlfriends. Sukuna's shared plenty of women, but if he got you!?
Stripclub Owner Sukuna smacks Toji for even bringing you here later, and Toji scoffs. 'She has a kid and shit, she'll make top dollar here' Sukuna falters at such news. 'Don't ya think she'll make bank?' 'Tch, of course she will... it's just she's so...' Toji snorts. 'you got the hots for her, huh? Well she ain't some easy girl, I know her'
Stripclub Owner Sukuna knows he must have you, when you're stepping around the stage, and he's eyeing you, sitting right in front of the stage as you get on your knees, crawling toward him and smiling shyly. 'how're you a shy stripper, huh? not gonna work' he huffs, and you tilt your head, hand slipping down his tie. 'No allure in a shy dancer, Mr. Sukuna?'
Stripclub Owner Sukuna loses his mind when he hears his name spilled from your glossy lips, as he thinks of shoving his cock deep inside that mouth, so close to his when you turn. You bend over, ass right in the air, begging for a smack as you look back at him, hair falling over your face. 'Why're you here?' he demands, eyeing the curve of your back, cock hard like he's some pathetic teenager or something.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna tenses when you say - 'I need the money, isn't it why everyone does this?' 'Toji says you got a kid' you tense then, turning toward him nervously, as the stagelights glimmer all over your skin. 'That a problem?' Sukuna shakes his head. "Nah, lots of girls here do...' You exhale. 'I'm a single mom, my friend can watch her at night, why not work while she's asleep? I can spend my time with her'
Stripclub Owner Sukuna admires the fuck out of you as you dance your pretty ass off, but he hates the men that see you, see you in just your little bottoms and tassells, breasts bouncing, ass jiggling as you shake it, as you move. You're a whole star quickly, the few hours a night you come in you make bank, but as soon as you leave, he's in his office, jerking it to you, imagining those nipples, that pussy he sees hints of with your spandex panties.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna On one particular night forgets to lock the door, you're still out there dancing but he can't take it, you're too fucking sexy, he's picturing burying his face in that nice ass of yours as you step inside, shutting the door quickly when you see it, his enormous dick in his hands, covered in precum. You gasp, looking away quickly. 'shit I'm sorry, it's my ex... he's such an ass and I didn't want him to see me...'
Stripclub Owner Sukuna pauses, in shock as you look back down at him, licking your lower lip. 'I'm interrupting...' you come closer though, watching, breath catching in your throat. 'Want me to beat him the fuck up? ruin him?' Sukuna murmurs, voice husky, when you keep walking towards him, and he slowly strokes, from the base to the tip of his veiny length, acting so casual. 'No, you don't have to do all that, you're already so good to me' he laughs then, shaking his head. 'You are, maybe I should... be good to you?'
Stripclub Owner Sukuna can't form a thought when you're stroking his cock, leaning so close, lips just a breath from his, taking two of his fingers and sucking his precum off them, cheeks hollowing. Sukuna loses his control then, using those two fingers to slip so deep you cry out, earning his groan, uncaring if anyone heard. He's curling them up in your walls as you stroke, his eyes laser focused on your pretty face when he grips your hair by the nape of your neck. 'wanna suck me, huh brat?' he tries to keep it together, but when you nod eagerly, on your knees, he can't take how good your throat feels.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna has his cock fucking up into your throat, his salty precum against your tongue, and he wonders if it's some dream it has to be, you're too fucking beautiful to just be doing this, you shouldn't even be working, he thinks. He'd like you just naked around his house, to fuck you on every surface, fill you up with so many kids you'd never leave. Sukuna is groaning while you suck him greedily, looking up at him with dilated, beautiful eyes, making him simultaneously want to fuck you and want to make love to you, stupid insane shit that irritates him.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna stutters when you suck harder, and he's cumming deep in your throat, not meaning to. No he wants to fuck your pussy, not this, but you make him cum so fast it's stupid, swallowing him with a pretty smile, as you lean up on shaky legs. He presses a kiss to your lips, desperate and messy, tasting all of his cum all over your mouth. You're gasping, until the door opens, and you pull apart, seeing an amused Toji. You are losing your mind later as you clean up to go home, wondering what's gotten ahold of you, when Sukuna is waiting right outside.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna loves it when you look down so shy and pretty, you're biting your lower lip to death, he releases it from the grip of your teeth. 'you free tonight, brat?' you blink in confusion. 'you want...' 'want you at my place, spread wide f'me, yeah?' you gasp at the thought, shaking your head then. 'I'm not, I have to get home to my kid... but tomorrow night?' he nods, ushering you to your shitty car, picturing you in something so much better soon, leaning over with a smirk as he seatbelts you in.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna now that he's had a taste, he can't stop thinking of you, when you're at work the next day you're quickly in his office again, this time he's got you grinding on his lap, slick arousal pooling in your little outfit. 'I'll fuckin pay you triple, take the day off' "Mr. Sukuna...' 'Take. The. Day. Off.' Sukuna finally gets you home, having you bent over his couch before you can blink, ripping your pretty costume to shreds, pumping you so full of his cock you're trembling, shaking, head falling back as he fills you so good, slamming your cervix.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna has never felt anything like you, like your cunt pulsing around his cock, like his balls slapping your twitchy little clit, as you're sobbing it hurts so good, tears streaming down your pretty face while he rails his cock so deep. Sukuna busts deep in you as he wraps a big hand around your throat, fucking into you over and over, feeling you milk his cock for all he's got. 'Gonna fill you the fuck up, huh brat? gonna drip on the goddamn stage'
Stripclub Owner Sukuna has your pussy on his mouth when he's busted in you, starting to lap all the gooey white cum from your pretty pussy. 'Sukuna! ah!' you've never felt like this, so fucked out as his tongue scoops all your cum out, he's leaning over you, spitting it right into your mouth, chuckling. 'pathetic, just how I fuckin need you'
Stripclub Owner Sukuna is pathetic for you, he doesn't let you leave, he pays you for another day, fucking you in every position, at some point he's holding you upside down, you're bobbing on his cock as he's gripping your ass, moaning against your hole, you're falling apart, so weak and sore. when you finally have to go home, because you have your kid, Sukuna can't stop thinking about you, about how he wants you to have his babies, to be under him every goddamn night, so excited when you come into work, only to see you devastated.
Stripclub Owner Sukuna demands to know what's wrong, only to see your shady ass ex, who wants to saunter up to him like he's shit, you shake your head, but soon Sukuna is beating the fuck out of him. 'you have no clue who he is, Mr. Sukuna...' you tell him then, earning Sukuna's chuckle, his big grin. 'You don't know who I am, baby'
Synopsis. Name: Choso Kamo.
Age: 23
Hybrid type: Canis lupus familiaris AKA puppyboy.
Diagnosis: He’s in rut, and who does he need? His pretty owner—you!
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, dog hybrid!Choso, hybrids AU, puppyboy!Choso, RÚTS, pheromones, sheIters, companionship programs, hybrid parks, COLLARS, Ieashes, he Iikes it (a Iot), tail wagging, possessive Choso, use of ‘mistress’, use of ‘ma’am’, PÚSSYDRÚNK Choso, first tímes (Choso), oraI (f + brief m), spítting, teaching, manhandIing, he’s just so DESPERATE to pIease you, p worship, pánty-steaIing, stepping on him, finishing early (him), stamina, fíngering, begging, asking for permission, overstímuIation, p sniffing, he’s GONE, Choso with tattoos, ríding him stupid, he’s BlG, making it fit, feeIing for it, cervíx smoochin, BIG stretches, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, miIking him, creampíes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, mátes, bonding bites, KNOTS, implied marathons, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.4k
A/N. Mwahahah you babygirls asked so daddy provides…
The forums online told you there was nothing to worry about.
Each with their smooth, structured message boards and those advertisements for the country’s best hybrid supplements (‘Buy your companion these chew-safe sweaters NOW!’); and their respective hybrid owners each with queries quite similar to your own.
“Hybrid has started taking my clothes [URGENT]!”
“Is my hybrid sick? Clothes disappearing, feverish, etc…”
“How do your hybrids let you know if they aren’t feeling good?”
To the symptoms that most-closely aligned with your own canine hybrid’s, the most popular conclusion by the panel of amateurs was that they were likely feeling the effects of the changing seasons. Hybrids, particularly purebreds, were more susceptible to heat and weather than humans like yourself.
And so you’d forgone the call to your hybrid specialist, Dr. Shoko, for now—in favor of helping Choso keep cool as much as possible, and supporting him through these motions.
Until today: when you’re folding your laundry and realizing that half your underwear drawer was missing.
As you’re opening up the rickety wooden drawer even further, it clatters mockingly up at you. At your flabbergasted expression—you were sure it’d been at least a third more full the last time you opened it up. At the way you’re bending down and peering in, as if expecting to see the rest of your panties and bras somehow hidden away inside.
Nothing.
You shut the drawer and straighten up silently.
The rest of your laundry sits idly at the foot of your bed, though the last thing on your mind was attempting to finish your folding. You don’t think you could’ve succeeded in doing so even if you tried.
Because you already know who did this.
Hell- there was only one other person living in your snug Tokyo apartment. It would be impossible not to be him.
Your roommate of five months.
Your hybrid.
The ever-nervous, ever-sweet, ever-handsome Choso Kamo.
You remember the day you got him as if it was yesterday: that phone call that changed everything. The massive hybrid shelter in your neighborhood had been holding an adoption program; in which humans could sign up to be caretakers and companions for hybrids freed from large-scale mills and facilities that raced to churn out the most purebred hybrids. All shapes and species—from the deep underbelly of having a society where humans and hybrids co-existed.
Mostly temporarily, of course - until the hybrids chose to pursue jobs, education, and whatever else it is that they wanted to do.
Tokyo JSH (Jujutsu Shelter for Hybrids) wasn’t just a simple rescue operation; but their territories spanned far and wide from medical facilities, to rehabilitation, to temporary homes, to this current matching program that let the public get a more hands-on method to volunteer. Led by Ieri Shoko - a caracal hybrid herself - it was one of the most famed for their sheer number of hybrids taken in and reassimilated into society. You yourself had volunteered for JSH on a few occasions.
And having a soft spot for hybrids, you barely thought twice before signing up for this new program.
The registration process had been long and tedious - though you didn’t blame them. Columns upon columns of forms to fill out. Towers upon towers of medical checks for you yourself. They investigated your apartment, they investigated your job, they investigated your personality and ability to house a troubled hybrid temporarily—until they could get back on their feet.
And even longer than the registration process had been the waiting process.
It’d been months- almost a year before you heard back from the shelter - and by then, you’d begun to think that perhaps they hadn’t found you suitable after all. But then…then it’d happened.
Then you’d been rung by none other than Dr. Ieri Shoko herself.
The fuzzy-eared doctor had asked you to come into the shelter the very next day, if you were still up to it- and of course, you were up to it!
Spiffed and spruced. Smoothing down your best outfit - for you did want to give a good first impression - you were outside the doors to Tokyo JSH before they’d even been unlocked. The teenage employee in charge of opening those double doors had shot you a strange look as you waited patiently for them, but that didn’t matter—you were about to meet your newest roommate.
Of course, you were aware that it wouldn’t be all sunshine and daisies and- and whatever else the saturated infomercial playing on loop inside the shelter lobby showed. But at the very least, you hoped by the end of this, you’d be making a lifelong friend out of this - to help someone without expecting anything back…if not a friend then you hoped you’d at least be making a change. And that’s why you were here.
Dr. Shoko had entered the shelter not too long after the infomercial’s 50th loop.
She seemed somewhat surprised to see you here so early - no doubt the first volunteer she was seeing for the day - though her effortlessly composed features didn’t betray a thing. You, however, were feeling a churning amalgamation of nervousness and excitement that you’re sure showed.
Though she was kind enough not to point it out, “You’re here early.” And with that, you were being led to the separate patients’ ward.
The air was thick with saline and tension—and the acrid smell of adrenaline. Bed after bed. Each one had their white curtains drawn, and out of respect you didn’t dare peek inside - instead you kept your eyes fixed firmly on where you were going.
So much so that once Shoko stopped in her tracks, you almost bumped into her back.
Hastily, you looked up to find that…this, too, was a bed obscured by thick white curtains. Only, that was where the similarities between this hybrid and the others stopped: lost in your whirlwind of thoughts, you hadn’t realized that Shoko had led you to the sole bed at the end of the hallway - the one at least twenty-five meters away from all the other hybrid patients.
Solitary. Silent—no hums or growls that emanated from beyond the opaque partitions.
Sectioned off, almost.
It made you wonder just what sort of hybrid - you looked at the chart hung up at the foot of the bed - Choso Kamo would be.
According to the other notes on the chart, they were a dog hybrid like most of the others here—Canis lupus familiaris. And to be more specific, Choso was said to be a Great Dane.
And though you had better manners than to engross yourself in someone else’s medical chart, you couldn’t stop your eyes from wanting to read even further. Quickly finding out other such details like his gender, his age, his height (6’4 was to be expected as a Great Dane hybrid…but nonetheless absolutely massive), and even his rescue from-
“An underground fighting ring.” Shoko told you in a measured tone, and you’d picked up on the fact that she didn’t want to disturb the hybrid inside those curtains. “It’s not often that we’re able to rescue hybrids from fighting rings- alive, that is. Though they remain our toughest problem.”
Your mouth felt parched, “I…I see.”
“This hybrid was lucky—he was said to be their top fighter. But no one lasts long in an underground fighting ring.” She looked at you solemnly, “No one. And before we proceed, I need you to understand what you’re getting yourself into. I know how much you love helping hybrids - I’ve seen you ‘round here almost every week - but I need you to understand that Choso might not be the easiest companion.”
You nodded seriously.
“It’ll take him some time- and on some occasions he might even lash out.” Shoko gestured to the other beds - namely the distance between them. “We’ve had to separate him from the other hybrids as well.”
You looked from them and back, “But surely he’s not dangerous-”
“No.” She shook her head, “He’s hurt. He’s powerful. But most of all, he’s highly intelligent.” Her ears twitch, and there’s a small quirk at the edge of her painted lips, as though a smile—“All he needs is some love and care, and someone kind enough to wait for him…which is exactly why I chose you.”
And how could you not help Choso Kamo after that?
So she’d peeled back the curtains and oh…and inside had been perhaps one of the largest hybrids you’ve ever seen. One of the most magnificent.
Even for a purebred, Choso’s drooping ears were covered in the darkest, glossiest coating of chestnut brown. They’d perked up even before you’d entered - no doubt hearing every single nervous breath you were trying to regulate - and they stayed on alert even as he caught sight of you. His sharp canines made an appearance. His powerful tail whipped.
And yet, even with his features twisted into something unwelcoming, you found the wind knocked out of you at the utter beauty of his features.
They were prominent and pretty. As though carved by the most delicate of hands: those slightly downturned eyes of his, the pertness of his mouth, those high cheekbones.
There was a glint of something unforgiving in the depths of his chocolate irises, however, as though weathered through the years. Something honed.
Sitting up on his bed, his gaze narrowed as you entered his space- and a slightly feral growl had left Choso’s lips. His toned body was naked beneath the clinical blankets, and he gripped them as if he was ready to fling them off and attack-
You slowly took a step backwards - something other than fear. You understood how it felt to want to be alone for some time.
And sitting on the empty bed beside him, you waited in silence as he realized you weren’t here to attack—and leaned back into his crisp mattress. Though he still looked slightly wary of you, you didn’t hesitate before introducing yourself and launching into a conversation - rather one-sided at the time, but a conversation nonetheless.
Shoko had smiled and left the two of you alone for now. Meanwhile you spoke of your day, your job, the weather outside and- did he like the food here? What were his favorite foods?
Despite the fact that Choso didn’t answer a single one of your gentle questions, you weren’t deterred. And it wasn’t long before you’d looked up at the clock on the end of the hallway—and realized that it was nearly past visiting hours. Choso himself had seemingly come to the same conclusion, as he watched your eyes drift back to him.
And you’d only had one more question left for him.
“Do you want to come with me?”
And he’d given you a single, short answer—in a deep baritone that sounded as though it hadn’t been used in years. “Yes.”
From then on it’d been a short few hours of paperwork - much shorter than your initial registration - to get Choso officially situated in your apartments. In a week’s time he was discharged from JSH and gathering his sparse belongings (nothing but a broken collar) to move in with you in your Tokyo nook.
Your first outing together had been to buy him all sorts of new clothes and necessities and a collar - something that you didn’t think Choso would like. But Shoko had recommended you get one, just in case.
And so there had been a pretty, pink-colored collar with your name on it—fitted to Choso’s size—jostling around at the bottom of your shopping bags as you dragged the Great Dane hybrid from store to specialized hybrid store.
The first day had been a little awkward…you introduced Choso to the guest’s bedroom that was now all his - and he’d locked himself in there for about two days. Only coming out once he’d completely and fully immersed himself inside, once he’d finally gotten used to the sense of a place—a place that was his own.
Following had been a blurred few weeks of attempting to get used to one another in this limited space. Choso himself wasn’t all that bad of a roommate, to be honest - he’d spoken to you in bits and pieces whenever he felt like it, gathering up after himself, and letting you know whenever he liked your cooking. And you scoured for these interactions like a man in search of an oasis in the desert, after prolonged summer after summer, after prolonged heatwave after heatwave.
You weren’t even sure why you were drawn to him so much- sure, Choso Kamo was one attractive being. Especially when he was walking around the apartment after a shower, in nothing but a slightly-dampened towel…
But more than that—he was just so damn sweet.
You came to understand that the more you found out about him.
It started off small: the charred attempt at preparing breakfast for you in the second week he was here, the shy way he’d tug at your collar - despite being such an intimidating size - whenever he encountered another dog hybrid in public. He followed you around everywhere—everywhere. He waited right outside the door for you whenever you went to work.
And come to find that…Choso wasn’t the strong, seethingly silent type you’d initially assumed at all. He was smart. He was funny. He was such a sweetheart.
Soon enough, once he’d opened up to you in the coming months, you’d come to find that Choso actually loved sappy romance movies (and he cried at the end every time), Choso loved making little treats for you whenever you were down, Choso loved cuddlin’ up to after a long day at work. Perhaps it was unconditionally true what they say about Great Danes being ‘gentle giants’ - because Choso Kamo was the gentlest giant of them all.
And after five months, the two of you were what you could honestly consider good rommates—good friends, actually. Though the housing situation was meant to be temporary until the hybrid was able to get a place of their own - and/ or wanted to - you could honestly see yourself living with Choso for the rest of time.
Who would have thought?
Though the collar still sat collecting on one of your cabinets. You hadn’t brought it up, and Choso - despite eying it from time to time - hadn’t asked, either.
Everything had been perfect—that is, until about a few weeks ago when your clothes had started disappearing.
It started off with a jacket here, a bracelet there, and then something you couldn’t ignore - an ugly Christmas sweater from the last holidays (that you honestly weren’t upset to see go). And you could’ve let it slide had it been limited to these souvenirs that you wouldn’t mind never having to think of ever again.
But your underwear?
Not only was it your underwear, but it was about half your entire drawer? Perhaps even more so? All those lacy black numbers n’ those matching sets, all those expensive lingerie you’d treated yourself to and even a few of those grandma panties with holes in them- you couldn’t help but wonder just what your hybrid needed these for…
Nesting wasn’t as common for dog hybrids, right? Besides, Choso had a perfectly comfortable bed that you knew he loved and adored.
To be honest, there was one person in the forums who’d suggested that perhaps those aforementioned hybrids were veering into ruts and heats- though, they’d gotten downvoted to hell.
And though you’d considered the possibility…that certainly wasn’t the case this time, right?
You’d read up on the matter prior to meeting Choso, and you knew that that particular period occurred every two to three months for a hybrid. But in the five months since getting to know him, and since worming your way into his good graces, Choso had never shown any indication of a rut.
Not even the slightest glimpse of it.
And that was certainly alright - some hybrids simply didn’t have certain proclivities, or perhaps their pheromones didn’t overtake them as such. But your question remained: if Choso hadn’t started his rut then, why would it start now? There must be another explanation, surely.
And so you’re still mulling over the possibilities as you’re trudging your way to him- knock-knock-knocking on the door to his bedroom. Choso opens the door instantly - as he always did when it came to you - and you’re somewhat taken aback at the sudden…shirtlessness that you’re bestowed with.
Clearly fresh out of the shower.
With his long hair untied, wet tips reaching his broad shoulders- with glistening droplets of water slipping down his hairline and down the middle of his chest. With a tattooed No. 1 on the sculptured ridges of his right v-line. With his toned chest slightly panting—at the sight of you.
Choso’s flushed lips part-
“Cho…” At the sound of your voice uttering his cute nickname, Choso’s long tail immediately starts wagging. And you’re finding it hard to keep the sternness in your voice, “I didn’t disturb you, did I? I just wanted to ask whether you wouldn’t happen to know where my erm- underwear disappeared, would you?”
And at that- his eyes go slightly wide. “U-underwear?”
And you’d almost have been fooled by the innocent blush that spread across his cheeks…if it wasn’t so damning, that is. “Yes. Underwear, Cho. Where is it?”
“And you’re asking me—?” He pleads.
“My panties didn’t just grow legs and walk, Choso.” You cross your arms with a sigh, “They’re not magical.”
“…I think you’re magical.”
Somewhat catching you off-guard—“You can’t just-” And you feel something flip at the pit of your stomach, “Don’t think you’re going to wiggle your way out of this, okay? I need my underwear back before tomorrow- unless you want me to go to work pantyless-”
His canines slip out with a growl, muscles rippling as he shivers. “Never.”
“Then you better- return them.” You’re wagging your finger strictly at him, to which he lets a sheepish smile escape.
He places a hand on the top of the doorway - a gesture of nervousness, surely. “Y-yes, ma’am.” That little nickname you’d told him time and time again not to use—why so formal? But you can’t help but notice the bulge of his swole muscles, still dappled in the dampness of the shower.
And to hide the flip in your stomach - again - you’re sighing and looking away from the vision of Choso before you.
You could still hear the fervent wagging of his tail.
“Wanna go out for a wal-”
“Yes.”
.
.
.
“Okay- ready, Cho?” Slipping your shoes on, you turn towards the hybrid that stood at the edge of the threshold.
Choso was never the type to be leashed whenever the two of you went on walks - you suppose that came with his seeming distaste for the collar. He’d meander along beside you, and though you’d been nervous about losing him the first few times, Choso had proved himself to be loyal and steadfast by your side. Never wandering off too far, even when he was exploring in the hybrid park.
And right now—he was shuffling shyly. “Y-yes…”
You frown, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing-” He replies hastily, putting on his own shoes and getting ready to follow you out the door. But even so…his eyes drift beyond the threshold. “It’s just…”
“Hey…” You’re lowering your voice- and the tension bleeds out of his shoulders as you reach out and gently hold onto his arm. “You can tell me anything, y’know?”
And that’s what makes him finally muster up the courage- “I want to put on the collar, ma’am.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
And who were you to say no to that?
And it feels as if you’re walking on air as you go up to the cabinet and pull those glass doors open - taking out that pretty, pink collar you’d bought specifically for him. Slightly dust-bitten. Yet its heart-shaped pendant glimmers in the sunlight, your name etched onto there—Choso dons that name proudly as you’re fastening it onto his pale neck.
“Tell me if it’s too tight, alright?” Its metal buckle hisses coldly against his nearly-feverish skin: was he heating up?
That prominent Adam’s apple of his bobs- “Mhm…”
Before long, the two of you find yourselves walking down the summery pavement; it was a beautiful day and the balmy breeze kisses your cheeks. Clouds frothing. Birds twittering. You’re humming at the feeling of warm sunlight on your skin, contrasted by the unfamiliar coldness of that looped handle of the leash in your hands.
The thin, chain-linked length sways just a little—leading up, up, up to the collar wrapped around Choso’s throat. It lets off a metallic sound that melds with the bustling noises drifting from your local hybrid park - you hadn’t had Choso for long before you found out about this place.
And ever since about your second or so week with him, you’d been going there almost daily. With Choso being so naturally shy, it was a good place for him to make friends and interact with someone that wasn’t just you—and bit by bit, you’d gotten the privilege of seeing him open up. Hell, he even had a few regular friends there. And by now, he looked forward to the park just as much as you did- except…today, Choso was pulling back a bit.
Not as though he wanted to leave, but as though he always wanted to be half a step behind. No matter how much you slowed down your own pace for him.
“C’mon, Cho.” You’re gently pulling on the grip of his leash, and yet it doesn’t give away anything. “We’re a little late, your friends will be leaving soon.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Choso?” Your fist tightens around the leash.
He doesn’t budge a single inch—in fact, he seems to slow down even further.
“Choso, come on-”
And then he’s letting out the softest, sweetest sound that makes you stop directly in your tracks- “N-ngh—” Something so unexpected. That you can only turn around and stare at him.
Choso fiddles with the zipper on his jacket, eyes downturned- and yet, you’d be able to make out that cute blush of his anywhere.
You attempt to take a peek at his expression, “Something wrong? D’you wanna go home, Cho?”
He shakes his head. “N-no…” And the fidgeting with that metallic nub grows even faster, Choso’s feet shuffling on the smooth, grey sidewalk. “It’s just…keep going at your own pace, ma’am.”
“My own pace? But isn’t that a little too fast for you today?” You probe.
And he nods, “Yes…” Barely even a whisper, “Keep doing that- k-keep pulling on my leash.”
Electricity zaps down your spine at his tone- oh, his tone. Currents of it leaving your mind a little fuzzy, and curdling somewhere between…
Choso raises his nose up into the air to sniff— with his honed senses, and you couldn’t start tugging on his leash fast enough. “A-alright then.” You weren’t sure to exactly what degree his senses were honed, but you didn’t doubt he could smell even the wetness of your cunt - it’s exactly why you’d tampered down proddin’ away at yourself with your vibrator after he’d moved in.
And then he stalls so you pull once more-
“Fuck-”
And you look towards him instantly, “Shit- I’m sorry. Did I pull too hard, Cho?”
“No-” He shakes his head immediately, “No, not at all.”
The tighter it was, the better.
The air feels more humid than it had once been—so much thicker. It’s enough that you feel like you can finally breathe only once you catch sight of the hybrid park; those swooping slides and those green, open spaces. Slides and tunnels. Stores and pathways.
You’re reaching up to unclip his leash, and Choso lets out a sheepish smile as he stops you. “I-I want to keep the collar on, is that okay?”
You’re stunned. “That’s perfectly alright, Cho.” And so you watch his tall figure stalk towards his usual group of companions, your name sparkling on the pendant between his collarbones. Perhaps you should ask him about this sudden change, but…you decide not to push it for now - perhaps it was still the weather that still had him all out of sorts.
Deciding that you’d join him in playing just a little later - at least when your knees weren’t feeling as weak as they do right now - you sit down on one of the benches overlooking the park. It makes you smile to see Choso laugh and talk with his hybrid friends—such a stark difference from how he’d been when you first met him.
You were proud of him.
“Hey, Choso’s wearing a collar today?” A sudden voice makes you look up—and who else would it be but the ever-charming Kusakabe? You’d met the older man on your first visit to the hybrid park - and you were sure you’d been such a sight: awkward and standing by the edge of the park, a towering unleashed hybrid at your side, both of you unsure what to do.
He’d been the one to reach out to you first- asking you whether you wanted to join him and his smaller, more welcoming canine hybrid. That had been the first time that you’d seen Choso interact with another hybrid without bearing his fangs.
As a much more experienced hybrid owner than you, you admit that he’d helped you smoothen your journey as a new companion—vastly. All the best spots to eat here. All the hybrids to be steered clear of due to their aggressiveness. So it was practically routine to run into the dark-haired man during your days at the park, and so you flash him an easy smile. “He is, isn’t he? New development.”
“Pink. Looks good on him.” Kusakabe nods approvingly, arms crossed. “Everyday he surprises me.”
“Right?” And with a chuckle, you’re holding up the slender chainlink leash. “Though if he chooses to continue then I might just have to get something stronger…”
“Oh, I know just the place-” And Kusakabe sits down right next to you on the bench - thigh against thigh, arm against arm. You’re unable to say anything about anyone’s personal space before he’s pulling his phone out and gesturing for you to lean in—“There’s this shop downtown in Shinjuku I go to- the best discounts. It’s right beside the convenience store and the-”
And as soon as you blink, Kusakabe is ripped from his seat next to you.
And before you crouches Choso.
Though not as you know him. Not at all.
Choso bears his piercing canines and lets out a rumbling growl; muscles of his back shifting, body panting, claws protruding—and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew it was contorted into something of utter murder. And you weren’t sure whether this was just your imagination due to the tension of the incident…but did he seem somewhat…bigger? Veins popping. Back hulking. There was almost something…animalistic about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on- other than the fact that he was scarin’ off the others around you like a guard dog. He lets out another rumble of gnarled words and it’s enough to make every hair on your body raise.
“Stay away.” It’s about all you can make out.
You stand immediately, heart pounding. “Ch-Cho?” You reach towards him.
“Stay away.”
Was that really him?
He repeats.
And then he repeats again.
And he repeats and he repeats- as if crazed. Kusakabe pales and wastes no time creating some much-needed distance between himself and the hybrid.
He bumps into his own cowering hybrid.
“Choso-”
“Stay away from my mat-”
“Choso- enough.” And you finally manage to pull him back - he doesn’t even seem to register you beside him for a brief few seconds. Not until you force him to just fucking look at you—
And then - only then - do his claws retract, and the sharpness in his eyes fades just a little bit—turning into their usual chocolate-caramel brown once he turns them towards you. You look into his dilated peripherals and wonder whether he was really the same hybrid as just a few seconds before.
Choso Kamo could easily overpower you, but he’s pulled by your arms easily.
As you look around, you’re realizing that almost everyone in this vicinity of the park was staring at you. The hybrids nearby had their ears lowered. The owners were tugging on leashes of those same hybrids that refused to move- seconds away from danger and they were too afraid to move. Kusakabe himself was blindly reaching for his own companion. Hell, even the birds seemed to have stopped fluttering about—as though summer itself had been paused for this sudden feral coldness of your sweet Choso. You can’t help but let a shiver run through you as you imagine just what might have happened if you weren’t there to stop him.
Choso would have torn that man to shreds.
Without thinking twice, you loop a finger underneath his collar and pull him away- not even bothering with the leash anymore. Fuck…his skin was just feverish. “C’mon.”
And for the first few tugs, Choso doesn’t respond—doesn’t dare to tear his eyes away from the trembling Kusakabe. But then you’re saying his name once more, “Choso.” He jolts as though hit with a thousand volts of electricity- and you’re quickly pulling him out of the park. Not even a second glance at the mess you’ve left behind, “We’re going home.”
He quietly responds from beside you, “Yes ma’am.” In a voice so heated.
Collar tight on his neck.
Tight. Tight all throughout your speedy walk back home—even afterwards. And once you’re attempting to reach up and free him of that restraint- Choso flinches away from your hands faster than light.
Starin’ straight at you with his dazed, darkened brown eyes he holds the buckled lock of the collar and crushes it with his bare hands.
Crushes it so that it cannot be removed.
.
.
.
“I don’t know, Shoko….” Nervously gnawin’ on your lower lip, you pace the hallway outside Choso’s room. Her response comes out as languid and reassuring as ever- but you can’t help but cast a concerned look at the closed door. Locked. “He’s just never acted like this—”
“Aggressive?” Comes her question, “Why, it might just be because of the increasing temperatures that hybrids-”
“No, not just being aggressive.” You struggle to articulate, “It’s just he’s being so…”
Because it hadn’t been just the collar incident after you’d gotten home from the park. Almost immediately afterwards, Choso had rounded the room a few times- alert. Alarmed. For a second there, you almost thought he’d caught onto a whiff of something else entirely—before he’d grabbed one of the throw pillows on your couch and rubbed his swollen scent glands down its puffed surface.
Scenting.
Scenting was the act of coating an object, hybrid, or person in the pheromones of a hybrid; it’s said that they often feel more comfortable in a space if it reminds them of their own scent.
But to this extent?
You’d gotten used to Choso scenting the apartment during the first week of your cohabitating, but right now it was as if he was attempting to erase every single shred of evidence that anyone else had ever been inside this apartment.
No one but him. No one but you.
That laptop charger that your coworker had touched last week? He’s gliding the smooth surface down the side of his throat, and replacing that scent instantly. That cushion your friends had sat on the last time they visited? That hair tie you’d washed with a different shampoo than your usual? Even the damn jacket that Kusakabe had brushed up against on the park-
That one, in particular, Choso was ripping away the scent most fervently.
Until the apartment was saturated with his soft, sweetened vanilla scent.
It smelled like a bakery here.
Concerned, you’d attempted to then coax Choso into playtime- he refused. The first time he’d ever refused to spend quality time with you—not even when you’d pulled out his favorite axolotl toy. Thereafter he’d been draped across your living room couch for hours on end, panting, sickly; the only times he’d moved was to disappear into the bathroom every fifteen minutes. And each time he came out more and more feverish than before - flushed down to his chest, trembling just a little. Hands pressed between his thighs. What did that…
When you’d finally insisted that perhaps the two of you go see a doctor, he’d disappeared into his bedroom and refused to come out.
Not even when you’d knocked.
Not even when you’d called for dinner.
And you were two steps away from begging- but instead you’re regurgitating your woes to the ever-trustworthy Dr. Ieri Shoko.
She listens to your day silently.
“Now, I don’t want you to worry…” Of course, the only thing she was doing by being so evasive was making you worry. “-and this is just a suggestion, of course-”
“Anything.” You’re pleading, “Just- anything that’ll make him feel better.”
She hums, and even through the phone it sounds knowing. “Have you ever considered that…” Somewhere in the distance, your hallway clock tick-tick-ticks away—and it feels as though your stomach flips just in time with its clanging announcement of the hour. “-perhaps Choso might be in rut?”
Breathless, “What?”
You hear the flipping of pages - presumably notes - from her side of the call. “It seems that in our care, Choso Kamo was yet to experience a rut. And from what little information we were able to gather from his previous…accomodation, the same can be said for there.”
“I thought Choso couldn’t get ruts?” It’s surprising that your voice manages to be so steady.
“Perhaps so.” Shoko answers, “But that is merely a medical assumption.”
Your brows furrow, “W-what are you saying?”
And she sounds as sage as ever, “What I’m saying is that there is no evidence to suggest that Choso can experience a rut-” You’re just about to open your mouth in agreement. “-however, there is no experience to suggest the contrary, either.” More flipping pages—“For all we know, the lack of a rut period for this hybrid could be a result of the high-pressure environment that he’d been placed in since his mature years. We’ve certainly seen as much- though, I never did think that this would be such a case.”
And you just about can’t believe what you’re hearing—“Wait- so you’re saying that Choso can experience a rut…all because he’s finally feeling comfortable?”
“Safe, is the more likely option.” She corrects, “Though comfortable isn’t incorrect, either. As well as open, happy, attracted-”
You reel- “Attracted? To who—?”
There’s a slight pause.
“I might be no optometrist-” She deadpans, “-but rest assured that I’m not blind.”
A sudden rush of something in your veins—“A-and what can I do to help him through this…rut?”
“At this stage? Find him a mate.” Shoko answers, and there’s shuffling from the other end of the line. “Or be his mate.”
You’re speechless.
“Good luck!”
A tone rings. The call is over.
And you’re left alone in your Tokyo apartment- alone with the massive puppyboy that was in the throes of his rut.
The door feels taller - more intimidating - than you remember it being when it’d been nothing but an empty guest’s room. But now it had meaning to it…it had someone inside that you cared about. Cared about to an extent that perhaps you never thought you would—fuck. Before you know it, you’d been standing motionless outside Choso’s doorway for a few minutes.
And you’re sure he can smell your heady wetness from inside.
And once you’re jolting back to your senses, you realize that your legs had lugged you as clooooose to it as you can go - had already put a hand on the doorknob that you don’t remember putting there.
You twist it open.
And the wave of pheromones that hits you is enough to bring you to your knees.
The flurry of vanilla sweetness, of the sunshine of early morning, of the warmth that comes from days spent at the beach—it all envelopes you like a whirlwind set to devour you whole. First it’s taking presence in your lungs, then your brains, then your cunt. Quite literally- you grasp onto the wooden beam of the doorway in an attempt not to embarrass yourself.
But you don’t think that Choso was in the presence of mind to care.
You don’t think he even notices you enter at first.
He’s buck-naked on top of his bed. All twisted up in slightly-dampened sheets, he looked like a Renaissance painting; with his meaty thighs spread wiiiiiiide and his angry red cock throbbing between his legs, with his entire body covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, with his tail not even wagging anymore, with his pinkish mouth parted and letting out the prettiest whine after whine as he fucks up into his fist.
Up and up.
Again and again.
He still has his collar on him.
Every muscle in his nearly-Herculean body twitching as he does so. Abs tensing. Biceps bulging—
Dribbles of sap explode from his tip like a damn fountain- leaving his hand glistening in layers of sticky glue-like substance. Shaft pulsing in the air. Heavy balls twitching once-twice- If it isn’t just the filthiest sight you’ve ever seen…he cums.
With the most pornographic cry of your name falling from his lips.
And from the puddle right below those ruttin’ hips of his, you wonder just how many times he’s cum to the thought of you before.
Choso gliiiiides his palm down his aching shaft to drag out his high. Again and again.
Pump after pump.
And it’s only once those sticky white droplets of seed have petered out that he’s finally attempting to crack his eyes open. Long lines of tears glimmer down his cheeks, and you think he just looks so pretty whimperin’ out your name as the last few ropes of his cum empty out of his cock. Letting his sweaty head slump back against the pillows, Choso’s chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath before—
Oh- and how is he supposed to catch his breath when you’re standing there - so beautiful and fuckable - in front of him? Jaw dropped.
Unbeknownst to himself, Choso’s tail starts wagging.
Unbeknownst to you, your thighs are pressing together.
And he lifts his sensitive nose in the air once more taking—one sniff, two sniff. Like cherries. It’s all he needs to register in that hazed brain of his that you’re completely and utterly soaked through those panties you weren’t wearing.
He wasn’t exactly doing anything lewd, but you think you’ve never felt more exposed.
Pulling down the hemline of your short, short skirt, you gasp- “Ch-Choso.”
And he flinches.
As if you’re struck him down to his very core—there’s something carnal there that shifts within Choso’s eyes and obscures anything of the sweet hybrid that you knew. His body trembles as he heaves to a stand beside the bed - and it’s just then that you’re realizing that in his rut, Choso was much bigger than you normally knew him to be. He was taller. Bulkier.
Just as he had been at the park, it’s like a more base part of him had taken over. Invaded.
Those claws of his drag down the soft covers of the bed and tear it to shreds without even trying- and you start to wonder what that might just mean for you…
He’s oozing power you knew he had- you knew he had, but never knew he’d think to harness as he crosses the bedroom in nothing but three strides.
And he kneels before you in a shorter amount of time.
Kneels.
Like it’s where he was always meant to be, beneath you like this, those capped knees of his strike the carpet with two thuds! Hard enough that it should hurt a normal human, though not even the faintest glint of pain registers in Choso’s eyes - so dilated now that they were almost completely engulfed in blackness.
His milky thighs squeeze around your calves. Which inadvertently means you can feel his cock grow even harder than before…
From your feet, he’s peering up at you with an expression akin to worship—clammy fingers grasping desperately at your skirt. They’re sliding just beneath - where his feverishly hot skin sizzles against your own - and a sudden pang of neediness shoots through your every blood vessel.
The air in the room suddenly feels hotter. Sweeter.
And you’ve always wanted Choso Kamo, but those pheromones he’s jetting out makes you feel almost dizzily greedy to feel him-
“Ma’am…” Choso’s voice quivers out—husky. But it wasn’t in the way that made him sound demanding- no, it was veering on the edge of an unsteady pleading. His unfairly handsome face cocks ever-so-slightly to the side, and he’s looking up at you through his loooong dark lashes. Puppydog eyes. “-permission to eat you out?”
You’re nodding so rapidly that your head bumps against the wall you’re pressed up against- hips bucking towards him, and he only yearns even closer with a whimper. “Yes—” You’re uttering out, “Yes, pl-”
But you didn’t think that Choso Kamo would ever make you beg for him, did you?
Hell, he should be the one begging—just to taste you. Just to sniff your pretty pussy. Just to tip his head slightly backwards and let those ropes of clingy sap leak down his tongue aaaaaaall the way down to his throat. His pheromones leave him in gusts, rendering the hybrid more n’ more ruined every time you’re blinking down at him. “Permission to swallow, ma’am?”
“You may.”
You witness the exact moment that Choso Kamo tastes you on his tongue for the first time.
Because his powerful, hybrid tail starts to wag harder than you’ve ever seen it. Because he groans. Because a primal noise escapes him that sounds like the most erotic music to yours eardrums—“Fuck.” Choso’s eyes go slightly wide. “Fuh-fuck…”
With the wettest, most lecherous plap! that mouth of his drops even further ajar. To plaster more of you across his maw.
You’re the sweetest things he’s ever had the pleasure of smelling- with or without pheromones.
His Adam’s apple bobs with the wads of your pussy’s needy juices slippin’ straight into his gullet. Pressing himself so close to you that he’s physically unable to breathe through his nose- Choso wastes no time before clawin’ onto both sides of your hips and plastering your sticky, syrupy pussy all over his mouth.
Just wide open.
Hot, open-mouthed kisses.
“Sh-shiiiiit—” Gasping, your hands snake down to grab onto Choso’s sweaty locks. They were practically pitch-black with perspiration by this point, making it slippery for your hands to tighten around and place the slightest pressure when tuuuuuugging-
Choso fights with everything left in him to not dig his claws into your pretty thighs and drape your thoroughly wet pussy across his mouth. He mewls, “N-no.” His kisses grow more fervent. “No, baby…”
Eyes just a bit teary from the sudden stimulation, you’re wondering just what it is that poor Choso’s huffing n’ puffing about. And that’s the instant you’re witnessing the dog hybrid lean up onto his haunches and jerk his toned hips against your legs. That reddened, throbbing erection of his crushing against your calves.
It’s the only bit of friction he can get- and the only bit of friction that he needs to spurt his webbed seed all down your skin. Splatterin’ some against the wall and even down himself—he’s making such an utter mess as he cums just from eating you out.
That, too, with merely a few sultry licks.
Whimpering.
Choso’s head throws back with an echoing sound, lips wobbly oh-so-cutely as he drenches your heated flesh with his gooey sap. It forms a layer of warmth that you don’t get too feel for too long-
Because the man himself is draggin’ his roughened fingertips down the dredges of it and stuffing every ounce he can gather between your legs. Straight into the sinking divot where your hole was, Choso makes sure to retract his fatal claws as he slides his lacquering layers down your pussylips. Painting gloss after gloss of creamy white.
Pheromones were just soaking into the air, making it so heavy.
And that ruddied tip of his tongue slips out and starts lavishin’ away at your messy slit. Just so fucking messy.
Despite his tail wagging away at the lewd sight, he can’t keep the regret out of his tone. “I c-can’t believe I’ve cum.” He utters out a breathy pant into your cunt. “I can’t believe it—”
“Awww- s’okay, Cho.” You swear you see his cock twitch at just the slightest mention of that nickname falling from your gorgeous lips. “It’s probably your first time, huh?”
“I-it is.” Your poor puppydog nods.
“Then it’s alright-”
“But I wanna be good for you, mistress.” And even more sinful than that title was the way he was looking up at you with the most agonized tearful eyes—“I-it’s all my body’s telling me to do…” As Choso’s huffin’ away, the edge of his lower lip jutted out into the cutest pout. His brown brows furrow as he focuses on chastely pecking your hole—and you’re hit with the understanding that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. By now he’s rutting against your calves like a dog in heat - and it would be incorrect to say he wasn’t. “I wanna please you.”
“Is that soooo?” You’re crooning out- and he shivers. Reaching the edge of your foot out, you slide up the lined muscles of his left leg - ending up pressed between his thick thighs.
You step on Choso’s rock-hard erection with your foot and he all but cries-
Humming to yourself, “Then act like it.”
He gasps, “Wh-what?” And though he was in disbelief - his ears waste no time pricking up.
Your heel crushes his hot, dribblin’ erection- “Awwww, didn’t hear me, baby?” Harder. As he bucks his hips and lets out a sudden yelp, you’re pulling his handsome face up to yours—“Why’re you giving me kitty licks if you’re a dog hybrid, huh? Why don’t you eat me out…”
Hooking your non-dominant leg over his shoulder.
“-like a good boy then?”
And then you’re swervin’ his head just sliiiightly to the side—and helping him open up the puffy slit of your pussy and ease his tongue inside.
And all it takes is one push - just one push - of Choso’s flattened, ridged tastebuds- for you to clench around him. The most goopiest feeling.
Enough to make a hybrid addicted.
“Oh…” He barely has enough space to breathe let alone speak- any and every breath he has left in his lungs is spent parched over your cunt. Choso slips his fat tongue past your first ring of muscle—and you best believe that his extra-specialized hybrid tongue was tasting every droplet of your slick up close and personal. Savoring you - his bleary eyes roll to the back of his head. He’s feeling the velvety squeeze of your walls as he dives in and out, in and out, in and out.
In and oooooout- and thrusting ravenously all the way back in again.
“Shiiiiit-”
His eyes widen at the effect that he - he - seems to be having on you. “D-does this feel good-”
“Shut up n’ eat, baby.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He was just so obedient.
Not having much experience but swabbin’ the friction of his tongue wherever he could- as fast as he could. Tail wagging as fast as he could. The crowned edge of his tastebuds dig against every orifice inside you, as fast as he could.
And you’re swearing that the way he’s fucking you with is tongue feels almost…animalistic in nature.
Choso’s grip fastened tight upon either side of your squirming hips- and the tips of his fingers twitch as though he was having trouble keeping his claws back. Rugged grunts leave him with every slip n’ slide. Chin plastering against the bottom of your pussy—his handsome features scrape-scrape-scraaaape every inch of you from the end of your cunt and all the way up to the tip. Where your clit was throbbing and needy for him.
He’s whining at the feeling of that pulsation against his face, looking down innocently at your sensitive nub. “D-do I touch you ther-”
“Fuck, yes- you touch me there.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Fuck.
You’re directing your inexperienced hybrid. And perhaps it was the pheromones that were making your body looser than ever-
But you’re wielding that ruthless restraint you have on him and bucking straight against Choso’s open mouth. As his tongue slips into your hole at a constant pace, you’re making sure that that handsomely big nose of his isn’t going to waste either - just grinding down on the mostly-straight line of it. Your favorite part was that lil’ bump that he had around the middle, it’s where your clit felt its primal pangs the most satiated.
As Choso eagerly pushes his face between your tremblin’ legs and laps and laps his thick tongue away. Textured tastebuds. Sizzling against where you were most sensitive.
And you might not be a hybrid with those keen sensibilities to know what every single pheromone puff meant- but what you’re feeling right now in his sweetened fragrance was nothing more than utterly content. Pure gluttony.
He was droolin’ down both sides of his mouth and only push-push-puuuushing his face even deeper. “Please-” And his swollen mouth lolls stupidly open- probing his tongue inside to the maximum, to the very hilt of his wet muscle, and even then he grinds his face deeper like he wanted even more. “P-permission to have even…ngh, more, mistress?”
“More?” Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull- Choso was already wolfing you down like a man starved. Fucking you with his tongue and gyratin’ his nose across your clit.
Thirsty for every pearly droplet of slick you’re spraying out, his brows press upwards and he’s fixing you with the most convincing puppydog eyes you’ve ever seen. Hell, even his scruffy ears start to droop- “Please, mistress?”
Muttering underneath your breath, “I swear if you were any other…”
And how could you ever deny him that?
Oh, your hybrid was just so spoiled- but that was a problem for later. Right now, all you can think of doing is reaching down and hooking a finger in that pink collar of his—he keens as you’re using that to puuuuull him even further upwards, nose-deep between your legs, and sputters.
Rolling your hips faster and faster - you were just so glad that you had the upperhand with his collar now. Because every time that Choso even pulled away to gasp out his unsteady breaths- you’re hauling him straight back.
“What’s the matter, baby?” You’re cooing down at him, letting his flushed face crush against your pussylips. Leavin’ such a lecherous smear of your pussy’s slick across his features, “Didn’t you say that you wanted more?”
“I did- I do.” He’s whining, hips starting to rut once more. Just so teary and guttural with all the stimulation - your pussy was just ruining him, and it really didn’t help that those rut pheromones left him in an even more dire state. Choso sloshes your slick ‘round with his tongue and sobs at the searing restraint you had on his collar, “Wanted more- ngh, wanted to taste your pussy more, ma’am.”
“Then—?” Just so mean now. You tug on his collar again and make him shiver as he’s whimpering, tearing up, bucking like an animal—so overstimulated on being used. “What else does my good boy want, huh?”
“I-I’m your good boy?” Those tear-filled eyes of his are just so pretty, and they’re blinking a few times before Choso even realizes that you’ve asked a question. He hastens to answer before your tugging grows even more insistent - though he really doesn’t mind the pain…“I just wanted permission to…”
“Yeeees?”
“J-just to…”
And you’re peering down at the poor hybrid: his powerful tail is still now, and his pheromones were slowly becoming more and more maddened. You’re seeing the way his long fingers tremble where he’s holding you—edging juuuuust the slightest bit closer to your core…
“Permission to finger me-” You smile down something sinful at him, “-granted.”
He gapes, “Th-thank you, ma’am.”
“It’s a hybrid-eat-pussy world, right?”
And those slender tops of his fingers have no trouble just sliiiiiding a few inches inside- filling you up enough that his digits fill up every single orifice. Every single nook and cranny. He’s thrashin’ around inside, letting the curved tops of his fingers prod and poke away—
“Can smell you getting e-even wetter when I reach for…ngh- here.” He’s muttering out in a slightly breathy tone- slightly crazed. And the sweeter your treacly cunt jets out pheromones, the closer he’s veering towards that one spot-
Choso babbles, “Can smell you the sweetest…around here.” Through his shaggy bangs, you see those brows of his furrow- “Can smell your pussy wantin’ me to go…”
And then he’s hitting it.
“-here, ma’am.”
Unlike the sudden surges of pleasure that were almost knocking you to the floor, Choso was just looking up at you so innocently as he pumps his lengthy digits towards the very back of your pussy. Striking splat! where your g-spot throbbed—before he’s pushing inside and inside to scrape damn near your cervix.
Fingers so long that you think he could reach that spongy layer if you really wanted him to-
“D-deeper, Cho…” Your mouth waters at the delicious zaps of pleasure running through your veins. Your head throws back as they only seem to increase with every passing second, and you whine. “M’so close—deeper.”
“Close?” He breathes out, as if in disbelief.
And you best believe that Choso was running his poor fingers ragged doing exactly what you’re asking - he’s scrubbin’ up every ounce of space down your walls, he’s leaving your g-spot feeling raw at the constant whacks, he’s sure the skin of his knuckles was reddening at the impacts but—but he doesn’t even fucking think to slow down as Choso fucks n’ fucks your pussy stupid.
He could feel himself going stupid, mouth latched ‘round your pulsating clit and moaning. “Please cum.” Babbling, “P-please cum…need to make my mistress feel good-”
“Shit, and I really do feel good-”
“Need to be a good boy and give her pleasure-”
“Already doing so much, baby-”
“Need to make her cum—” Tears spilling down the sides of his handsome face, he looks up at you with pouted lips. Quivering, “Permission to make you c-cum, mistress?”
You tug on his collar - this time, high enough that you can bend down and press a chaste peck on his forehead. “Permission granted, Cho.”
And it’s just then that Choso’s reeling his fingers properly back - all the way till those rotund ends - and pushing straight into the deepest depths of your pussy. Directly into spots you perhaps weren’t even sure you had—perhaps your cervix. It certainly felt that way.
Deep.
And suddenly you’re shattering all over the hybrid’s fingers n’ mouth - something that Choso realizes before even you yourself do. His nostrils flare at the sudden peak in your stewed cherry pheromones—like the trumpets denoting the opening of those pearly gates.
Suddenly your legs tremble open and you’re gushing your orgasm down his ready tongue.
Jaw ajar, he lets you riiiiiiide your waves of bliss through and through his mouth. His handsome features. Your hands being a permanent fixture in his hair now, “P-please…” Blabbering away as the dopamine renders you more loose than ever, “Feels so good, Choso—”
Those ears of his perk up, “Yeah?”
“Feels so good- hck!” Sparking all over with pleasure. “Shit- it might just be the b-best orgasm of my damn life.”
And it really was.
You weren’t just saying this to soothe his rut - those sudden jolts and sparks, the way that he’d prolong them so much by massaging your bundles of nerves…it was the best you’ve ever felt. Choso just keeps swervin’ and swervin’ his knobbly fingertips against that pulsing target of your g-spot, in sloppy tandem with the slurps of his mouth suckling away on your clit. Again and again.
Draaaaaagging out your euphoria until it seemed like it couldn’t go on any longer- then pumping a fresh few waves of electricity into you with the sudden hits at your g-spot. Again and again.
“Mmmm, I’ve been a good boy then.” He murmurs deep into your cunt. And it’s only once most of the haze clouding your mind has cleared up - by the time that your orgasm has diminished into nothing but a few tender jolts - that you’re finally registering the way Choso’s hips were still humpin’ away against your body.
The way that Choso crushed his large, sculptured frame to yours and rutted into you like a dog in heat- “Been- been such a good boy. Can this good boy get a…”
He bores his pleading eyes up at you.
Feverishly flushed.
“-treat then, ma’am?”
You’re riding out the last of your high on that very handsome face, and you gasp. “But of course, Cho.”
In practically no time, you’re finding yourself helping Choso Kamo stand up- yes, you were the one to help him stand up.
The powerful hybrid was just too pussydrunk on you to even stand straight—being readily moved in the direction of the bed. Pheromones heating up. Rut intensified. Choso’s clamoring onto the mattress on your command, letting himself fall backwards against the pillows and half-hide his face against their puffiness.
His dewy mahogany eyes peek at you as you shrug off your clothes and join him- stopping right between those long legs of his. “Wh-what are you going to do, mistress?”
“Give you a little payback, of course.” You’re winking. And without further ado—you’re pushing apart his slightly-jittery legs; almost miles long now that you were seeing them from this angle. He was flushed all the way up to his inner thighs, highlighting the spattering of freckles that he had upon that skin.
From here, you could see his rock-hard erection even better - sure, you’d been given a proper show earlier. But this?
This gave you the opportunity to admire eeeeeevery single detail up-close.
The sheer rose shade at the crown of his shaft, the way it graduated down to the prettiest pink on his hilt. No wonder he liked that collar so much, it looked so similar to the color of his…
The veins upon veins that made the most beautiful patterns down his cock - they curved and overlapped in a way that made your cunt throb. The way his dark curls spattered him all the way down to his swollen hilt—Choso was mostly well-groomed, though he didn’t seem to have had the sense of mind to trim these days. But you almost…liked it like that.
The way he was not only blessed with incredible length, but incredible girth, too—perhaps even bigger now that he was in rut? But you’d always imagined that Choso would be the type to have a massive cock anyway, it’s always the silent ones who do…
The hybrid watches - looking as though he wanted to tear his eyes away from a vision so lewd but couldn’t - as your pretty face looms closer n’ closer to his throbbing erection. Fuck, he might just be longer than your damn face…seeing it compared like this…he can’t help but let his tail wag ferociously.
“Now now, Cho.” Your stern voice breaks through, “Settle down now or I won’t be able to-”
“S-sorry!” He stops immediately.
And you grip the base of his red, thickened cock. “No interrupting me.” Hard.
“I understand…” Choso whines, body startin’ to arch off of the mattress - though he holds himself back for the most part given how he wasn’t sure how you’d react. Would you punish him? Would you like it?
Whatever his frenzied mind had been fearfully conjuring up, it’s all wiped blank by the feeling of you surging your head down and gulping up the first few inches of him. Happily.
First, Choso’s mouth drops.
Then, the sensation of your wet tongue on his cock hits him.
Finally, he’s planting his feet at the edge of the bed and bucking- gripping onto your scalp with his hands. Bucking. And bucking. And bucking—he cries out, “Oh f-fuuuuuck, ngh—” Just a few tears of overstimulation leaving the sides of his eyes, “Fuck- ngh, this is what it feels like?”
Of course, you certainly couldn’t respond due to your mouth being full - but that doesn’t stop you from looking up at him through your lashes and winking.
The thickness of his cock fills up your entire mouth, pulsating in a way that was incredible. The creamy layers of pre that topped his bulbous tip tasted almost…sweet? Almost like salted caramel - and you didn’t know whether that was you or the pheromones talking.
“Fuck-”
You’re just starting to give Choso a few gooooood, loooong bobs of your head—up and down. Up and down. Slobberin’ your entire mouth from the top of his mushroomy tip and about halfway down that incredible length.
But that’s around when the hand at your scalp grows almost searing.
And you’re looking up to find Choso shaking his head after only a mere few seconds of you giving him a blowjob- “P-please…any longer and m’gonna cum.” Which had just been too good for him.
You pull yourself off of his fared tip with a pwah! “Aaaaand?” Still kissing him down there.
“And I want to…ngh, save it.” He admits, eyes not meeting yours.
“Save it?” You’re cocking your head in confusion, “Save it for what, Choso?”
“Well…”
“Answer me, baby.”
“Yes, ma’am—” The dog hybrid looks up at you with a slightly pouty expression, “I wanted to save for when I f-fuck you…”
Your jaw drops.
There’s a slight silence in the room- though the sudden heated increase in pheromones does enough talking for the both of you. And you’re wasting no time before removing yourself completely from his cock—he ruts.
Before pushing those hips of his right back down.
Before shuffling up the king-sized mattress to straddle either side of his thoroughly sculptured hips, feeling the curves and divots of his muscles there.
Before perkin’ your hips juuuuust behind you and catching Choso’s globular tip in your entrance- slamming your cunt down as far as you could take him.
You’re sucking in a harsh breath as the first heated inch of him enters your cunt—shit, he really did feel as good as you’d imagined. “Fuck.”
The pointed top of his shaft probin’ inwards.
Zig-zagging veins massaging up against your soft walls.
The throbbing of his shaft creating a vicious drumbeat that you find your pounding heart synchronizing to- you’re throwing your head back and arching your hips to get more of him- and right now it seems like you were the one that was finding yourself utterly ruined on his body.
Your hands find themselves slitherin’ right up his toned body—right past those ripples and curves of his muscles. Ultimately resting on top of both his pecs, “Fuck, Cho.”
“Mistress…” He pants out- lips meeting yours in an open-mouthed kiss.
With a low snarl, you’re absolutely melting into his embrace. It’s barely anything of a kiss and more like Choso was bearing his canines and glide-glide-gliiiiding them dangerously down the front of your cracked maw. Just the slight softness of his actual lips peaking through and gluing against yours ravenously, “Choso-”
“Mistress.”
“Choso- you feel so good.” Before you know it, Choso rams his strong hips up - plunging his achingly hard cock - just the slightest few inches until he suddenly stops. But not because he’d bottomed-out. It’s as though he’d been completely and utterly ready to pound your silly cervix raw- but jerked himself to a stop out of nothing but pure will and the need to-
“G-get permission.” He mutters between trembling lips, words coming out as nothing but a few slurred syllables - each one melting into the last.
And as you’re blinking away the haze in your eyes, attempting to make sense of him, you ask. “Get permission? You want permission to- ngh, fuck me, Choso? You know you already have it…‘
He shakes his head. “Not…that…” Sounding as if he was on the very verge of ruination just from the way he found himself stuffed inside you—not moving a single inch. But still ruined.
The pheromones in the room heighten, and Choso’s tail swishes agitatedly.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s something far, far dirtier…” He admits, and despite his words there was the shyest blush upon his face. And you swear his cock starts to throb even harder at his utterance—going to the extent that it felt like Choso was damn near about to explode- “It’s where I- hngh, fuck, it’s not something that a hybrid like me deserved to even imagine about you, mistress.”
As though he couldn’t even stop himself - his hips were moving in the slightest ruts up and down now. Up and down. Up and down. Barely-there grinds that almost felt more lecherous than just fucking up into you.
His tail starts to wag once more as Choso starts rubbin’ his tip against the roof of your cunt. Forgoing those rational desires of his to not fuck you until he gained permission for…whatever it is that he was too afraid to admit. Those pinkish lips of his quiver as you’re starting to clench around him—“I-it’s nothing something I deserve…but fuck, how many times I’ve thought a-about it…”
“Then tell me.” You’re humming ruthlessly down at him. His eyes slightly widen at the commanding tone of your voice - surely, you must know that he could never deny you when you speak to him like that? “That’s an order from your master, baby—”
He shivers. “A-an order?”
“Tell me what it is that you’ve been thinking about for so long.”
Choso’s slick-wettened cock slips in just a few inches deeper, and he whimpers something inaudible.
“What was that?” You’re leaning down to hear him better.
His lips moving mere millimeters away from your own, “I-I’ve always thought about- ngh, almost ever since the first time I saw you- fuck, it was like th-this animal desire in me…” Big, bulbous tears collecting at the edge of his right eye, Choso finally jerks his hips up—“Permission to breed you, mistress?”
Oh—
That ‘yes, baby’ is keening out of you faster than you can register it leaving your hips.
And that’s all it takes for Choso to succeed in bottoming-out, that’s all it takes for Choso to dig his strawberry divot against the edge of your cervix, that’s all it takes for Choso to fully n’ properly start to fuck up into you like an absolute madman.
Arching his back against the mattress.
Higher with his hips, lower with his shoulders: he runs his pumping tip across every inch of the roof of your cunt—even deeper, and then stirs his fattened length around in search of that pretty g-spot he’d been troublin’ so much not too long ago. Pump after pump.
Probe after heavy prooooobe of his geysering orifice- you’re feeling your toes curl at the sensation of being so full with him. Warm and heavy inside you. “Permission granted-” You gasp out.
And though he’d already heard your affirmative answer from earlier, it makes Choso swell up just a liiiiittle thicker at his circumference. Snaggin’ against the sides of your elastic walls, he’s filling you up like nothing before, just so plump n’ puckering up at every nook…especially around the area of his base that seemed to be growing at an even faster rate than the rest of him…
But you have no time - nor ability - to count away at the feverish throbs and stretches of Choso’s cock right now. Right now, he’s runnin’ his tip against the side of your g-spot until that pretty inner lining of your walls bulge with his sheer size—
“Permission- oh.” You’re throwing your head back in sheer pleasure, seeing white burst behind your eyes. “P-permission…” Sounding as though a broken record-player, “And for how long have you wanted this permission, baby?”
“Too long.” Choso cries out. Hands trembling upon either side of your hips, “Been wanting this pretty pussy for w-waaaay too long- as far as I can remember…was just impossible when I was smelling her sweetness all the damn time.”
Your heart races, “And how long have you been wanting to breed me-”
“Always.”
And after a few more probes n’ a sudden clench—from your sopping wet walls, Choso whimpers and tucks his head into the crook of your neck - where you’d assumed that humans had their scent glands.
His heavy balls thwack! the globes of your ass cheeks when he drills his cock inwards, “I’ve n-never had a rut before…” He admits, “It just never felt like the right time. But this- fuck, primal part of me always wondered just how pretty you’d look all round and glowing a-and…pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” You breathe.
“Pregnant with my pups.” Choso babbles out. Those doe-like eyes of his kept on rolling to the back of his head every time he’s feeling himself being clenched juuuuust a little tighter than usual. Dark brows furrowing. Hands tightening. “Wondered just how much your- hah, pretty tits would grow even more.” Mouth lathering over your right tit, he suckles—as though expecting milk to come pouring out already. “Wondered just how sweet your milk would be, mmmm…”
“And what else?” You huff. But the hybrid’s just so dazed on your pussy and his rut and your pussy that it takes a firm tug on his collar before he’s back to his senses.
“Huh- oh—” Choso blinks his teary-clung eyes back open, peering around the thickly-scented room as though he’d just forgotten where he was already. “Wondered just how many people would stare at you as we w-walked down the street, me on your leash…”
“And why’s that?”
“Because just how many of them would think that it’s me—” Out-of-breath. Voice a couple octaves higher than usual - utterly gone. You didn’t have to feel the steadily-increasing sloppiness of his cock to know that Choso was losing himself - thwack! thwack! thwack! “Just how many of them would think that it’s your poor, shy puppyboy that fucked you all pregnant, mistress?”
“Shiiiiit—” Your legs were starting to tremble - and whether because of fatigue or something else entirely, you’re unsure. But Choso immediately snakes his fingers down just a little lower to cup either side of your ass, and he’s using his immense strength to support you as you start bouncing back down onto his merciless thrusts. “Keep going-”
His eyes grow wide, “P-permission to-”
“Keep going, Choso.”
And who was he to go against his mistress’s wishes? Especially when such wishes was something that he’d been wanting to do since the day he fucking met you—fuck, perhaps even sooner. It was always in that carnal part of him that he’d been trying to ignore ever since the first time he smelled your beautiful, addictive scent outside his bed at the clinic. Those curtains were useless - he already knew that you’d be the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes upon.
Like cherries, syrup, and sex.
And right now he was fucking into the most beatiful thing of all- your thighs press against that No. 1 tattoo on his v-line, and you’re keening.
Arching your back so that the roooough curvature of his cock could stir up your insides even more than he already was- and that was saying quite a lot already. That ridged pattern of his veins were bumpin’ up against the sides of your channel, your nerves, and making you clench around him even tighter—leaving the hybrid more and more honest with every single thrust. “I’m s-such a dirty hybrid…so perverted.” He admits, “I’d even wonder about trying to fuh-fuck you pregnant all over again every single day—”
“H-how do you mean?” You’re panting out.
“I’d wonder how many times it’d take to plant my seed inside- to fuck you so full that it finally- hngh, takes.” Eyes only partly-cracked open, “And then I’d wonder that it’d be best to fuck you every- single- day-”
“Yes-” You’re mewling out, your nails digging into the plushness of his pecs.
“I’d make sure my hybrid cum’s dripping down your legs every second of the day-”
“Yes.”
“I’d make sure when we’re walking—ngh, going on our walks, that every single hybrid in a five-mile distance is going to smell me on you…” Choso leans in as though sharing one of his deepest, darkest secrets, “-and in you.”
“Yes—”
“And thennnnn—” It’s here that an almost sleazy smirk graces his pretty lips, “I’d wonder about fucking you even after you were pregnant.”
Your jaw drops, and your hands fly to his collar.
“I’d wonder about fucking you u-until your womb remembered me and…” So caught up in his sinful words that you hadn’t even registered that the thickened base of his shaft was only growing thicker…and thicker, and even thicker—to the extent that now it was a round circumference nearly twice or thrice what it had normally been, and you hadn’t even seemed to notice the slamming slaps against the forefront of your cunt. Faster. Harder. His right hand dips down between your jittery legs to start teasin’ your clit with fresh tugs and rolls, “—we don’t stop until we have nine kids.”
Nine kids.
Nine kids?!
Choso Kamo had been so-ravenously dreaming about pumping you full of nine of his kids; creating a small army of hybrid half-breeds that would likely look just like him but with your open warmth and that beautiful smile of his. And why was it that you could imagine it so clearly?
“Nine kids…” Eleven repeating it a few times doesn’t do much to let the words fully sink in - who would have thought that the nervous, innocent Choso Kamo would be such a lewd character inside? Who would have thought that he’d be nodding along to your repetition.
Gingerly letting his eyes slip to the side of his pillows, “B-but I know that’s just a far-off- ngh, dream, mistress.” Much more of the usual Choso that you know, though he’s still fucking up into you as though it ached him very second that he wasn’t stuffing you all the way to the brim inside - Choso’s rounded, reddened tip plasters against the back of your pussy and you’re yowling. “That’s why I stole those panties, that’s why had to- ngh, satiate myself with just my hand…”
And that makes you slightly more alert- “My panties? Where are my panties, by the way?”
He shyly shrugs.
To which you’re narrowing your eyes in suspicion, “Choso…”
And the larger hybrid almost flinches- “Th-they’re under my pillows.”
Without a mere moment of hesitation, you’re diving your hand underneath one of those puffy pillows you’d picked out just for him during that first shopping trip you’d undertaken with him…and you find all those panties you’d lost. Half your drawer, to be precise.
Choso whimpers as you’re pulling a few strappy pieces of lace and gauze out—some of the sluttiest of your collection, and your fingers had scraped the rest of it that still remained down under. Honestly, how many had he collected without you realizing at first? How many had he fucking used—?
Those scraps of fabric were sticky and slightly cloying to each of your senses- and so what else could you think of doing? What better option for punishment was there to do but gather them up into a tight ball in your hand and push them between Choso’s pinkish, puffy lips- gagging him with your panties. Your panties that he’d used to jerk off.
A taste of his own medicine - or at least it was supposed to be. You just didn’t expect for Choso’s tail to start wagging even harder than ever.
Pervert puppyboy.
“So you wanted to breed me, huh?”
“N-not wanted…” He corrects you, hips surging up uncontrollably into your wetness. “Want.”
“So you want to breed me, huh? So you want to make all those dreams a reality?” Purring, and the man beneath you can only nod with his massive tear-filled eyes - just so pretty when he cried, hm? To stimulate him even further, you’re exerting your hips to outmatch his pace, rammin’ his bulbous cock into every crevice and geysering orifice that you’re able to realize exists—“Then you know that you still haven’t gotten my- ngh, permission for that, Choso, baby.”
Choso sputters out an exhale, “P-please, ma’am?” Muffled through your own panties. Rubbin’ his roughened thumb against your clit even further to sweeten the deal—“Do I have the permission to-”
“Yes-” And whatever hopeful moan was about to leave him, you’re cutting him off. “But only on one condition.”
“Please- what is it…?” He hisses, “Please-”
“But be warned, it’s a bit of a tough one-”
“I’ll do anything.”
And this was exactly where you wanted him. Exactly. You’re smiling down at the beautiful, utterly ruined boy beneath you—and pulling him in with a finger hooked underneath his pink collar - one that proudly had your name upon his pendant - to whisper into his flustered ears. “Then…bark like you want it.”
Choso’s eyes widen just a fraction. His cock trembles dangerously deep inside of you, and his nostrils flare as he exhales a large breath. Right before-
“R-ruff…” Before he’s muffling out the sweetest, most sultry fucking barks through the panties you’d gagged into his mouth- all because you’d asked. At the smell of your treacly cunt only growing even more aroused, Choso continues—“Ruff- arf—”
Your grin grows, “Ohoho? Louder.”
“Ruff-”
“Louder.”
“Ruff—woof.” He was just embarrassing himself, and it only made him even harder. Cock blushin’ almost as much as his cheeks were by this point- “Arf- arf, pleeeeese, ma’am.”
“Hmmm?”
Those dilated pupils of his cross, and Choso’s spitting out the gag of those gauzy - soiled with his own cum - fabrics to plead through trembling lips.
“P-please let me breed you, mistress.”
And what else more could you say but—“Of course, Cho.”
And in the next few sloppy thrusts, you’re feeling Choso empty out rope after loooooong heaving rope of cum inside you. It’s sheer volumes that you never even thought possible, sheer wads that were webbin’ up your tight insides and taking over every single ounce of space inside you - each with those creamy, glued-up wads of his seed.
Warm and wet.
Wild.
They’re splashin’ around inside of you and lacquering a thiiiiick few layers upon the channel of your cunt—over and over and over again. Choso doesn’t even need to try to make sure that every single spot is covered, because the sheer volume makes it impossible for a generous heap of his sap to puddle at your cervix, gettin’ hit by a torrential wave of his cockhead striking. Pumping deep inside.
Choso’s twitchy balls press up against your ass, just the slightest bit of your pussylips, and you’re shivering as you feel the orgasm that runs through him.
Collar dangling.
“Fuck…” Choso seethes through clenched canines, one of his hands coming up to press down upon your core. That cute front of yours where if he pressed juuuuuuust right- he could feel the vibrations of his shaft emptying out at your sponge-covered womb, “Fuck, m’gonna get at least one kid tonight , ma’am.”
Soon enough, you’re crashing into your own high, too.
And it zaps through your body faster than the last one - clearly having been so overstimulated that this one overtakes you more quickly, this one makes you see stars behind your eyelids, this one makes you shiver n’ shake on top of him.
Being properly fucked through your rapidfire waves of dopamine as he leans you even closer into his arms. As he nuzzles the side of your neck. As he hums out sounds of satisfaction at every euphoric peak he’s probin’ his massive cockhead into.
As Choso leans down and bites the side of your scent glands—you’re feeling something pop!
And you’re experiencing a sudden rush of warmth like another orgasm- like a hundred thousand other orgasms. It all courses through your overstimulated body one by one, at the same time, increasing in both length and intensity—it’s breaking you down to your very core—until you don’t even realize that you’re gasping out Choso’s name like a prayer.
And he’s worshipping yours in much the same fashion.
Basically ruining it with his lewd tone as he manages to slip that girthy knot of his inside - grinding n’ grinding the plumpness of his base until he’s fit-fit-fiiiiiiiiiitting in. Your cunt stretches like elastic around him, and it’s unbelievable to you that you’re able to fit so much of him inside like this.
You can feel him hot and throbbing deep inside you.
Preventing you from leaking even a single wad of his dewy white cum you’re milking.
“My mate…” Choso rasps out. You’re collapsed on top of him by now, and he runs one open palm down the curvature of your spine—then aaaaaall the way back up again to check on that freshly-made bonding mark on you - all bloodied and already healing through the special properties of a hybrid mate’s saliva - and then even further up to trace that collar of his. Lock broken. Your name always against his beating chest. Having you mewling at the sensation of his knot-
Currently, however, it was also your head against his beating chest.
You’re gripping onto his muscular body even further- and it almost makes you chuckle to feel that way just that makes Choso’s cock twitch inside of you. “No…” You state simply, “My mate.‘
“Anything you say, ma’am.”
.
.
.
Thereafter, it hadn’t been too long before Choso had roped you into a second round. Then a third. Then a fourth—where he’d been whimpering and shooting blanks, drool dripping down either side of his mouth as his cock slid into you in a thorough mating press.
And then a fifth. A sixth.
A seventh- honestly, after the seventh you’d stopped counting.
You didn’t trust Choso to keep count, either - honestly, you don’t think you would’ve trusted Choso to remember his own name.
Not this night or any of the hot summer nights that came after.
By the time the heat’s simmered down, and your lungs don’t feel clogged with the cloying sweetness of mingled pheromones, and you’re finally able to crack open your eyelids in this sultry sauna of a bedroom—you can barely move.
Body heavy.
Limbs aching.
Even the tiniest of twitches sending soreness shooting through your vessels.
You’re finding yourself tucked to Choso’s side underneath the covers- hand thrown around his muscular side, your chin hooked into the curvature of his spine. Who’d have thought that the big, bad hybrid would’ve been a small spoon?
That collar of yours was still ‘round his neck and showed no signs of being taken off soon. And you’re remembering just then that through most of his rut, the two of you had gotten up to scarf down food and clean yourselves when necessary. Though towards the feverish end of it, honestly you couldn’t remember anything other than wanting him to mark you with a bonding bite over and over and over again- so why were you notably wiped down and smelling of your favorite body wash?
Did Choso…wash you down even through his rut?
You knew the pheromones always hit the strongest towards the beginning and the end of one’s rut, did he really push through all that n’ tenderly tuck you in?
You’re feeling such a rush of affection for your puppyboy, and, sleepily, you press a line of kisses down the column of his throat- marked as well. In the heat of the moment, you’d somehow managed to puncture Choso’s scent glands with your own human canines.
He was yours, and you were his.
Choso hums groggily and snuggles even further backwards against you. Frankly, you think you could cuddle up against him and spend another day here—another week, another month.
Perhaps even the rest of your life.
But if only that incessant bzz-bzzing would stop.
With a pained groan, you’re managing to sit up and blink your eyes somewhere behind you - where the noise seemed to be pulsing from. Choso whines in disappointment and attempts to pull you back down with his warm hands- and oh, how it hurt you to deny those puppydog eyes.
“I’ll be cuddling you soon, spoiled baby.” You tut down at him. Finally locating the source of the noise, you’re reaching your sore hand out and grabbing onto your glaring phone.
Its screen assaults you with light immediately.
And then with a phone call.
Dr. Ieri Shoko.
Wincing, you’re answering the call. “Hello?”
“Woof- you sound rough.” Her cool tone wavers just the slightest in amusement, “Rough week?”
“Rough day.” You’re joking, “Rough rut.”
And there’s a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Right, but…you do realize it’s been a week, right?”
“What?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Almost immediately, you’re ripping your ear away from the phone and checking the date- fuck, Shoko hadn’t been messing with you. It really was a week since that last time you’d called her—you spent an entire week together in bed with him? And you hadn’t even realized?
Jaw dropping as so many things hit you at once, “My job-”
“Has already been notified.” And she sounded to be the exact opposite of you, collected and pausing for what you assumed to be sips of her morning coffee. “After our last call, I signed you up for the Hybrid Rut Registry- I do this for everyone that shelters, but didn’t consider it for Choso. It lets your workplace and loved ones know if and when your hybrid is in rut—and for your relationship I entered it as you’d be needed for the duration of the rut.”
Your heart races at her (very correct) assumption.
“You’re welcome.” She hums, “Also double-check on that to make sure that everything’s in order there- and also congratulations-”
Your bitten mark throbbed.
“-I expect to see you both at the clinic for a check-up today.” From your side, Choso wraps his muscular arms around you with a whine for you to come back. “But that’s not actually what I was calling you about- I was actually checking on your availability.”
“My availability?”
“Yes, for the program.” She replies simply.
“The program? Th-the companionship program?” You breathe, “Wait- I can help another hybrid?”
And she merely hums in satisfaction, “Mhm, I’ve got another hybrid that needs your help.” And whatever Choso’s honed senses let him hear or feel—he’s sitting up on the bed and pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Another dog hybrid- a year older than Choso, slightly smaller, golden retriever variety, same intelligent and mild demeanor.”
“Yes?” You breathe. Heart pounding already.
“His name is Ino Takuma.”
A/N. WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOG, SIS, WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOOOOOOOOOG-
Synopsis. When both Gojo twins want you for Valentine’s Day, do you:
A. Choose the frat boy extraordinaire you’re in a messy situationship with.
B. Choose the cute nerd that tutors you but is too afraid to confess.
C. Choose both of the above.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader (x Gojo Satoya)
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, GOJO TWINS, nerd!Gojo, frat boy!Gojo, college AU, they both want you, Iove triangles, yearning Gojo(s), tutoring, FWB situations, parties, frat!Gojo is slightly toxic, named twin, fights (over you), Valentine’s Day, getting them BOTH, oraI (f + m), handj’s, fírst times (nerd!Gojo), they do you but NOT each other (pls), spítting, chokíng, manhandIing, breath pIay, p talking, p sIapping, frat!Gojo is MEAN, TONGUE PlERCINGS, possessive, cIit bíting, cervíx smoochin, vírginíty Ioss (nerd!Gojo), prem. ejac, SAME DAMN TIME, heavy overstím, fuIl neIsons, fighting over you during it, DP, anaI, SAAAAAME DAMN TIME, science Ianguage, nerd!Gojo’s SENSITIVE, big stretches, big finishes, creampíes, cùmpIay, surprise at the end, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.5k
A/N. Y’ALL HAVE BEEN BEGGING FOR THIIIIIIIS- inspired by this art by the absolutely amazingly talented @/toriiartz_ + all the Iovely comments (Tonycries is listening…)
Gojo Satoru and Gojo Satoya.
The Sun and the Moon. The storm and the morning dew. The sweetness of spring flowers and the burning hand of summer skies—many things could be said about the Gojo twins.
Perhaps not everything so poetic: to most, they were those infamously handsome set of twins that sauntered about campus as if paid to be there (and to your left—keep your eyes peeled and you might just catch a flash of white hair). Of course, that campus tour would have to oscillate between libraries and frat parties at a worrying rate…
To others, they were the valedictorian of the Physics Department and the President of Delta Jujutsu Pi. To others, the region’s best Digimon player and the region’s best ragers.
Maybe someone could convince Gojo Satoru to do some research on how two men with the exact same face could be so different from one another?
But to you, they were your tutor and…the one you were currently in bed with-
“Oh…fuck, that was good.” Gojo Satoya hisses, pulling out of you with the loudest squelch.
You could feel the slick driiiibblin’ down your inner thighs. And he’s gnawing down on his pinkish lower lip- wishing to hear the music as he surges upwards n’ swirls that even pinker tip around your entrance.
Around and around.
You’re shaking as he does so, and he’s only pulling your hips further down against his.
“Just a little more f’me, baby.” Long fingers tightening at your waist, Satoya ruts his toned torso off of the bed. His pale lashes flutter at the sensation of you trying to clench, gracing you with such a smug smile that you’ve grown to both love and get irritated by.
You’re been riding him for what seemed like hours by now- and you’re that half his fraternity brothers were ready to break down the door with noise complaints.
Then again, they were likely used to this.
Because Gojo Satoya was always just so insatiable with you.
It’s been a few months since you’d been fucking Satoya - just an on and off little rendezvous that had started one night at one of his own parties. One of the many, many parties you’d dragged your roommates to.
Delta Jujutsu Pi was known for them. And according to the (many—you’d long since learned not to underestimate his popularity) personal recounts and Instagram stories, one minute you’d been challenging the frat president to beer pong but with vodka- and the next you both had been pressed against the mansion’s wall. Lips on each other’s.
When you’d woken up the next morning, it was to a pounding headache and Satoya’s steady heartbeat. Arm cushioned underneath your head. Leg thrown over his waist.
No clothes.
The two of you had gasped- straight into a kiss which tasted faintly like last night’s berry punch bowl.
And what was meant to be a one-night stand turned into exchanging numbers, turned into meeting up the next weekend, turned into hanging out several times a week and meeting each other’s friends, turned into a long and dragged out…something of which a ‘relationship’ was not something you’d use to describe it. It was many things but not that.
It was like the thick and cloying sweetness of the punch bowl that night, but also the bitter taste of vodka-jealousy that shot through whenever Satoya winked back at someone else.
You knew you had no right to be jealous- it’s not as if the two of you were anything committed. No expectations. No strings attached, right?
But then again, that didn’t stop the lines from blurring. It didn’t stop you from going out on dates with other men in retaliation, and it didn’t stop him from blowing your phone up all night whenever you did. You always did unmute him by the end of those nights, however, if only to complain about your latest date.
It didn’t stop him from throwing those parties he was notorious for and inviting everyone he knew and their sister- flirtations galore. But it also didn’t stop him from coming right back to you—time and time again, no matter how much you blocked and swore at him.
Didn’t stop a single thing.
Throughout it all, you’d say that the only silver lining was getting to know Gojo Satoru more in-depth.
Of course, knowing that the two were related, you’d coaxed his number out of Satoya to convince Satoru to tutor you. Which, expectedly, had turned into more of a friendship—one that was only sweetened by how openly you gawked at the man during your tutoring sessions.
That was your introduction to both brothers- worlds apart from one another.
The magnetic and heart-racing Gojo Satoya, the shy and studious Gojo Satoru. The older one by two minutes and the younger one.
The messy one and the one who’d been here to witness just how messy the latter was.
In more ways than one.
Eventually, Satoya was drawing the cutest lil’ hearts against your clit. That blushing tip of his cock moving ‘round and ‘round that sensitive spot, he hums at the smears of sheen he’s making—“Maybe we should go again…”
“Maybe you should let me go to class now.” You’re countering back.
His smile grows wider, “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Toya-” Your breath hitches, n’ you’re pushing back on his toned chest. It was just so defined from all those hours he spent at practice, and you’re taking more than a bit of pleasure feeling his pectorals. “-make me miss one of Professor Yaga’s lectures again and I’ll be referring him to you.”
Satoya shudders. “That man hates me.”
“Can’t imagine why…” You thought of all the classes he’d missed for matches- and perhaps being a loudmouth doesn’t help, either.
With the haunting thought of Yaga in his mind, Satoya lets you extract yourself from his arms and head to the bathroom to freshen up. By the time you’re heading back, he’d already tied-off the condom and chucked it in the bin, in the process of pulling on his fraternity-merchandise boxers (why did they even make those?)
He’s jumping in bed with you once you’re laying back down. Tugging his arms ‘round you—no one would ever believe it, but Gojo Satoya was a cuddler after sex.
The white-haired man whispers about everything and nothing as you two relax.
“Oh yeah- that reminds me.” He hums at some point, lifting his head up just a little from the crook of your neck. “I’m having a party this weekend, you should come.”
“This weekend?” It wasn’t a surprise that the frat was throwing yet another rager- and Satoya didn’t really have to ask you, either. He knew that you’d show up anyway. More of a formality than anything, as if he wouldn’t just sulk in a corner if you didn’t end up coming- before taking over the dance floor once Kendrick Lamar came on, of course.
Satoya nods sluggishly, the room still thick with sex.
But you’re turning to face him with a raised brow. “Like- this weekend?” He’s climbing up onto his elbows in confusion at your tone. “Toya, it’s Valentine’s weekend.”
“Oh.”
“You seriously didn’t know?”
“Oh.”
He runs a hand through his rumpled white hair. “So that’s why chicks n’ bros have been giving me chocolate all week- and here I thought I just got extra handsome.”
He pauses.
“Have I gotten extra hands-”
“Satoya.”
“Alright alright.” Satoya raises his hands in surrender, letting his head fall back onto the pink-cased pillows. “So uh…”
It was obvious when he didn’t know what to do with what you were throwing - hints often didn’t work on Gojo Satoya. Which was interesting to find out, because you’d always assumed that Satoru would be the oblivious one (and to a large extent, he was). But a sheer lack of committed relationships and an overt surplus of flirtations meant Satoya wouldn’t understand a hint even if you banged him upside the head with one—he’d merely look up at the sky and wonder whether it was hailing.
Though that’s not to say that he wasn’t intelligent - certainly not, you’ve witnessed his pre-tournament planning, the way he’d lead your university team, the NBA drafter that reportedly had an eye on him, how he managed good scores on most exams despite rarely attending class.
No, Gojo Satoya was just…so good at giving hints that it seemed to have balanced out by not being to receive them—yours, at least. Strangely enough, he seemed to never get your subtlety.
All but yours.
As if he couldn’t see, as if he saw but couldn’t believe.
And so you sigh. “No- no, that’s my mistake. I just assumed we’d be doing something for Valentine’s Day.”
“…Girl, the party?”
“Nevermind.”
And as Satoya launches into yet another monologue - about his most recent training regiment and the upcoming frat rush - you’re reaching over to the bedside cabinet. Grabbing your phone, it takes a few taps for you to interrupt the white-haired man-
“Actually, Toya—” Catching his attention. “I might not be able to make it to the party. Or at least not all of it.”
He sits up urgently, “Huh? But why-”
“Plans.”
“With what bastard-”
“That bastard is your brother.” And as his jaw drops, you’re turning your phone screen to flash the conversation at him. Satoya’s blue eyes narrow as he reads onwards-
You: psssssssst
Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): ?
You: do you have any plans for valentine’s day?
You: wanna hang out?
Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): ???!!!11??1!111!!??!?!
Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): My apologies.
Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): Typo.
Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): But yes, I would be delighted to spend time with you.
Just about the gist of it-
“—and I haven’t spent time with Satoru in a bit now so-” You were saying—and he knows, by the way. These days, Satoya had been intentionally meeting you during times he knew that his busybody brother was free from the clutches of his damn books. Just like he knew that Satoru had been meeting you during the times that Satoya had been out from practice.
‘Tutoring’ his ass- tutoring didn’t mean Satoru needed to have you over. To his apartment.
To the place mere feet away from where he knew his brother stuffed a hoodie you’d left behind underneath his pillow.
Fucking tutoring-
“Sure thing. Have fun.” Metal in his tone. Metal in his gaze locked in on you—he’s pushing your phone down to the mattress and leaning over to kiss you. Tongue piercing scraping the edge of your lips- “But just know that I’ll be a hell of a lot more fun than my brother.”
.
.
.
It’s Valentine’s Day when the sudden slam! thunders across the library.
Gojo Satoya with chest puffed out in his letterman jacket, with his forearm banged down on one of the tables. He leans over the polished mahogany and stares straight into the eyes of a man that looked like his mirror image.
White hair.
Blue eyes.
Those same unfairly pretty features- one of which was twisted into a scowl. And the other—nothing but cool indifference.
Gojo Satoru arches a stark white brow and meets his brother’s eyes. “Can I help you?”
“You can help me by fucking off-” Satoya spits. And had they been anyone else, then the gapes and gasps and stares - even the stray camera that was peeking out - would have unnerved them. But the Gojo twins were used to the attention by now.
The only difference was that where one basked in it, the other shunned away from it.
And though the tips of Satoru’s ears flush bright red—he never was the type to back down from his brother. Satoru’s jaw clenches, “Though you may be known for such philandering proclivities, I can assure you that I am not much the same.”
“And I can assure you that my fist will meet your ugly face-”
“We have the same face.”
“-if you don’t call off that date you have with my girl.” Satoya pants out. Breathless with fury.
Though there was a smile on his face- and he has the audacity to turn and wave - to fucking wave - at some of the gawking on-lookers. Shooting that charming Gojo smile that was bound to make them think this was an act of brotherly jest.
It makes the other man perk up.
“Whose girl?” Satoru asks.
Satoya freezes. “Huh?”
But his younger brother cocks his head, almost as though he’d just found the answer to a particularly tricky question. “Whose girl?”
The frat president rears back. Without warning, he reaches out and grasps at the lapels of the other’s stupid Star Wars hoodies—“You heard what I said.” Glower permanent on his face, “You’re smart. Figure it out.”
Satoru narrows his eyes, glaring at the man through his glasses. “Don’t have enough of a brain to figure it out yourself?”
“I’ll tell you what I do have…” Smile wicked. Leaning into whisper, “And it’s something that you won’t stick in her even in your wildest fuckin’ dreams-”
“You fucking-”
“Ahem.”
A cough.
Not the annoying, grating voice of his brother (thought both the brothers).
But rather…something sweeter. Softer. Stern in a way that made both their cocks prick up just a tad-
They’re snapping their heads over to stare at you—you with your eyes narrowed, and your foot tapping. They both feel a lurch in their stomach as they wonder just how long you’d been standing there - just how much you’d heard.
They both gulp.
Your gaze takes its time travelling up the vision before you: the older brother with his fingers dug into the other’s hoodie, the younger brother with his fists clenched as though he was about to punch the other. Both their forearms pop with veins that decorate their muscles- even Satoru with his bulky frame covered in his soft clothes. “Gojo Satoya…”
The man in question plasters a smile across his face, “Yes, baby?”
“Let go of him-”
His fingers unclench.
Satoru is slumping onto his chair.
Satoya turns around and starts walking to you in an instant- “Baby, what are you doing here~?”
“Tutoring, because someone made me miss another one of Yaga’s classes.” Holding up your bag in emphasis, and at least Satoya has the decency to look sheepish.
“Aw, you know m’sorry about that.” He answers, sounding utterly unapologetic.
“Right…” Not that you believed him a single bit. Your narrowed gaze drifts past him and ends up resting on the slightly-ruffled man sitting at the table. “What are you even doing here? I didn’t think you knew the way to the library.”
“Hey!”
In the slight distance, Satoru stifles a laugh.
Satoya whips behind to glare at him- before turning back to you. “Just ah- you know, extending the invite to my party tonight.” And before you could interrogate him on why exactly an invitation constituted of having one’s hand at one’s brother’s throat—he’s turning to the little audience you’d gathered and yelling out. “And you fuckers are invited as well.”
The cheers are drowning out your questions.
“Toya- what-”
“Mmmm—” Before you’re getting cut off by his mouth on yours. Tongue piercing cold. “That new lip gloss of yours tastes good, baby.”
But how strange it was that once he’s breaking away from the slightly-heated kiss, you find Satoya’s eyes on none other than his own brother. Staring at the expressionless man as he claims your lips as his own.
His own.
Satoya leaves the library with a smack on your ass.
And you’re left off-kilter by the whole ordeal, wobbling on weakened legs to the chair opposite Gojo Satoru. Head down. Books open. Fingers twitching ever-so-slightly. There was a strange air about him, as unpiercing as concrete, that reminded you of however Satoru was when he was taking a particularly tough exam. He doesn’t meet your eyes as you take your seat before him, pulling out your books, your laptop, your excuses.
The chair screeches much too loud in the awed library.
“Honestly, I don’t know what’s the matter with him.” You’re sighing, “He’s been strange all week.”
Satoru doesn’t answer, but you continue.
“And he knows that I have that thing with you tonight- he knows that but he still keeps insisting I go to that damn party.”
He still doesn’t say a word.
“I’m not going, of course.” You start to open one of your notebooks, “I promised I’d spend time with you, Satoru. It’s just so calming to be with you—”
In his peripheral vision, he can see you start to rub your temples. And he can’t help but jolt—he would never make you feel like that.
And maybe that’s what makes Gojo Satoru lurch up from his seat and kiss you.
Kiss you.
Soft.
Fleeting.
Barely even a graze- his face burns the prettiest sunset pink. Hot enough that he’s sure steam emerges from his parietal bone, that his eyes tear up, that he feels feverish. Something inexplicable bubbles up from all the way deeeep within his core, and it expels as a few wobbly apologies murmured against your lips.
Before you’re grabbing ahold of his chin n’ tugging him to you.
“Th-that was my first kiss…” He whispers.
You smile.
.
.
.
Gojo Satoya’s party would be in full swing by now.
You’ve found that they usually peaked after midnight, with most of the fraternities joining and the music concocting into one booming heartbeat. The pulse of youth. It shook the walls of the Delta Jujutsu Pi mansion, it seeped into your very circulatory system and left Satoya’s parties addictive—it would have you in his bed by the end of the night, without fail.
But time spent with Satoru was the exact opposite.
In the best way.
Even sitting next to Gojo Satoru had his warmth seeping into every particle of your being, and it left you buzzing with his soothing energy. Like dipping into a hot spring. Like taking a loooong nap during a scalding summer.
It was the same relaxing sort of feeling after a sip of wine.
Like you could speak about anything and everything with him. Like you could make as many mistakes in his presence as you liked. And it wouldn’t matter—he would still wobble out that familiar, crooked smile.
It seemed as though the more of those stern, sterile layers you cracked through- the more you wanted to surge through even more. With much more gusto than Satoru would argue that you put in during your tutoring sessions, you admit (but what he doesn’t know is that you might just…organize a few more than you actually needed). Just a few more.
Just to see him.
And Satoru was smart, you had a nagging feeling that he knew. But he let you stumble your way through your notes anyway.
He left you drunk on the proximity of him, while his brother left you exhilarated.
You suppose you had Satoya to thank for that.
Because he was the only reason you actually encountered Satoru. Just one encounter before you’d actually bothered him into giving his phone number, prompting your tutoring sessions.
Before, you’d only seen Satoru in a blur of white hair n’ Pokemon hoodies- racing about from class to class.
He was always the first - both to class, and to the top of the grades list.
The stark opposite of his brother, who’d gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu University on a basketball scholarship. Satoru had three papers published under Nature, several student lectures under his belt, and a dorm lined with more trophies than atomic specks of dust. It was also agreed-upon by most in the department that he’d been picked personally by JAXA to work there the second he graduated.
And you’d always assumed that the man would be the uptight type - most people with so many accomplishments would be so. Though his brother, Satoya, with his equally impressive athletic accolades—it’d still been a surprise to find that Gojo Satoru was rather…shy.
He’d blushed furiously the first time he’d met you - in the unfortunate circumstance of walking inside Satoya’s room without knocking. Right when his brother had his head between your legs.
Though Satoya had laughed himself hoarse, it’d taken you forty-five minutes to get the bespectacled man to stop apologizing to you. And then only five to convince him that no- you weren’t dating his brother.
You remember the glare that Satoru had leveled at him then, pushing up his bangs to help it. “Figures.” He’d scoffed, whilst Satoya had calmed down just enough to stop his snickers. “He wouldn’t have been able to woo you like that anyway-”
“Woo? Woo—telling me about wooing-” Satoya had dramatically flailed into Satoru’s arms then, hand at his chest. “Dost thou knoweth anything about bagging the baddie? And here I thoughteth thou wast a virgin-”
“Sh-shut up—!” He’d thrown Satoya off, eyes flickering urgently between you and his brother. And it wasn’t long before the last you’re seeing of the blushing, babbling mess of Satoru was a stomp towards the door.
The slam of it.
Before it’s opened again just a crack-
“And in Shakespearean terms, I would technically be a maiden!”
You giggle just thinking about it.
And it makes the man in question look over with a quirked brow, sweater matching the same shade of pastel pink that he blushes. “S-sorry, I’m probably boring you-”
“Not at all.” You’re cutting him off in an instant. Fervently shaking your head, you join Satoru down upon his bedroom floor—carefully avoiding the blocks and pinches of Lego that were scattered around him like a blood spatter. It had been a slow, almost strangely sensual night - he’d invited you to his apartment where he’d cooked dinner for you.
A traditional Japanese course of dishes that he’d learned from his mother, he told you. Topped off ice cream homemade through the principle of freezing point depression.
He’d planned to make a strawberry shortcake, he said. But it seems in his frenzy to make everything perfect, he’d lost track of time and ended up with sweet-smelling char—sure, you’d come over to hangout with Satoru before. But to hangout on Valentine’s Day…
This was territory uncharted for Gojo Satoru.
Hell, he’d had his first kiss just the other day.
And so you’d been led inside his apartment- now a wonderland of the sweetest fairy lights and crooning tunes playing from one corner of the space. There, Satoru was the perfect gentleman—giving his arm out to walk you the mere few meters to the decorated dining table, tucking in your chair, plating his creations for you.
Made just how you liked them. How did he even remember?
It was a wonder to Satoru himself how he didn’t bumble or trip over his own two feet. And before long, the two of you had finished dinner and numerous conversations- carrying them over inside his bedroom.
Where he’d…pulled out a brand-new Lego set and gotten to work on it.
You’d found it more interesting to watch him - that focused furrow between his brows, the way his tongue stuck out ever-so-slightly - from the foot of his mattress. Unable to catch a glimpse of the box before Gojo stuffed it underneath his bed, you were only left to wonder just what it was he was building with so many reds and pinks.
He’s staring up at you unsurely now, and you insist. “I wanna see you build this, Satoru.”
“Are you sure?” He lets the long green spindle drop from his hands. Tugging down on the thick sleeves of his sweater, “I know that Toya has his party tonight and I p-promise I won’t be upset if you wanted to go there instead, y’know?”
“But I decided I’d spend Valentine’s Day with you.” You insist, “And spend Valentine’s Day with you—I will. I don’t need any party.”
“But-”
“Satoru.”
He’s giggling shyly to himself.
He takes the half-built piece of Lego in his hand and gets back to work on it—and you find yourself inching even closer to him. Knees pressing against crossed knees. Shoulders against shoulders.
“What are you building, by the way?” You ask. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lego pieces like that…”
Concentrating on the miniature pieces through his ivory bangs. “You’ll see, sweetheart.”
And you don’t know whether it’s the smile on his lips, the dimple at the end of his grin, or that little pet name he’d given you—sweetheart—that made your heart race. Feeling your heart flip in that small but noticeable way it did whenever Satoya was around. Both of them? Whatever will you do with yourself.
It isn’t long before Satoru’s Legos start to form a clearer picture, and he’s working nimbly with the pieces.
In just a few minutes he has his body hunched- partially obscuring your view from the final touches to his creation. And soon enough, he’s pushing his glasses up his nosebridge, leaning back and thrusting out a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers you’ve ever seen. Plumes of rose and red and creamy white.
Little ferns on the side. Little hearts in the centers of his daisies.
He flushes fever-red as you take them from him. “F-for you.”
Satoru’s tone breaks at his confession.
“Satoru, they’re…” You’re breathless. The tip of your finger runs down the delicate petals that he’d spent time assembling, “I-I don’t even know what to say.”
“It’s for you.” He repeats, slightly firmer this time. “It was always for you.”
You’re snapping your head up to meet his determined blue eyes. So intense that they almost sparkled- “What do you…”
“Everything I do is for you—and that’s hard when I’ve always…” Satoru cuts himself off short. Slightly shaking his head, “But you deserve better than him.”
“Satoya?”
“Yes—” Breathed out as if he’d been wanting to say this for forever. “It’s hard when you look at my brother like…that- and I know that this isn’t my place. I know that this isn’t right of me to say. I know that this is selfish of me to request, but if you could just see…”
“See?”
“See that you deserve better than him.” His hands clasp your own around the ever-lasting stems. “And that- this isn’t fair of me to tell you let alone ask…but if you could just see that I—”
“What- that yer fucking shit at confessions?”
But of course, who else would it be but Gojo Satoya?
Pushing Satoru’s bedroom door further open and waltzing into the space- his towering frame almost seemed too large for the small space, almost left you breathless. Even though you knew that there wasn’t much of a height difference between the two-
Satoya’s hand on your wrist is instant. He bends down to meet eye-level with his brother on the floor, “Honestly, little brother, I would’ve had more respect for you if I’d walked in here and you were fuckin’ my girl right now.” He tugs you to his chest. “But here you got to her before me.”
“Feels good to be first, older brother.”
Suddenly they’re both on their feet - and so are you. Pressed between them—attempting to push away the two brothers from each other. From Satoya spitting, “That was supposed to be me giving those flowers to her- you knew. You fucking knew-”
“You thought she’d wait around forever?” Satoru crosses his arms. “And what were you doing on Valentine’s Day, huh?”
“Oh, grow up-”
“You grow up. While you were throwing one of your damn parties I-”
“I cancelled that damn party.”
That makes everyone pause.
And Satoya continues. He was looking right at you now- “You think there’d be anything to celebrate if you aren’t there beside me?”
And you can’t help but notice that there’s something slightly more…tender in Satoya’s tone. Something slightly more vulnerable- almost broken. There’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes him look younger, and it makes you squirm.
Something that Satoru’s sharp eyes pinpoint instantly- and he’s reaching out to tug you to him. This time being wrenched from his brother’s grasp and to you, “You can’t do that- you can’t just barge in here and try to disrupt what I’ve been wanting to do for so long—”
“And you think I haven’t?”
“What makes you think-”
“I knew her first-”
“I knew I loved her longer-”
“I know I loved her better-”
Satoru hisses. Pointing an accusing finger at the other man, “Says the man without the balls to even confess.”
“Says the damn virgin who only wishes he could touch her.” Satoya’s voice grows louder. He takes a step closer, and Satoru doesn’t back down. “Don’t act so high and mighty when you and I both know about the hoodie underneath-”
“Don’t you fucking dare-”
“Can you both shut the fuck up?!”
Your exasperated tone breaks through the argument- leaving the room ringing with silence thereafter.
And so you finally say your piece—“You guys…” Massaging your throbbing temples, the Lego bouquet was still in your hands- and you’re just now realizing that the t-shirt you’d been wearing was Satoya’s. Both of them on you. Around you. “How about we solve this like the civilized adults that we are?”
Satoya scoffs, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “Tch- yeah, and how do you suppose that?”
“Though I’d be more than happy to hear you out, sweetheart, I can’t promise to conduct myself according to such methodology.”
And so you tell them.
And the silence after is deafening—
“You want us to what-”
“Anatomically, is that even-”
“No way.” Satoya stabs a finger at his brother. “I don’t wanna see this fucker’s two-inch-”
“Mine’s likely bigger than yours-”
“Fucking right-”
“Want to bet?”
It’s only a few minutes later before both brothers have their hands on you- have their mouths dragging down your neck. From the front, from behind. One of them kissing down your spine. One of them nibblin’ on your collarbone—and you can only flutter your eyes closed and fucking moan at the sensation.
Two hot, needy mouths on you.
All over you.
Someone - it must be Satoru - leans his head down and captures your mouth as his own. He lavishes the soft edge of his tongue between your wettened crevice, and gaaasps as you’re opening your mouth for him.
Clearly never having kissed anyone so deeply- anyone like this at all—he whimpers as he’s shyly meeting your tastebuds with his. “S-sweetheart-”
“Oh, lemme show ya how it’s done.” Physically pushing his brother away with a hand on his face- Satoya cranes his neck from behind you. A hand clasping your throat and tuggin’ you to meet his ravenous lips—“This is how you kiss a girl.”
And before he’s smoochin’ you, he purses his lips and spits a great dollop of saliva that falls gently into your maw.
Sloppy.
Satoya barely spends the time wipin’ the excess splatter away before he’s roughly shoving his tongue inside. Swirling his textured tastebuds across every single inch of you—letting his curvaceous tip tickle the back of your throat.
Whenever Satoya kissed you, it almost felt as if he was fucking you with his tongue.
Again and again. And his wet muscle scrapes the sides of your mouth as he’s jostling it back and forth- leaving you weak in the knees.
“See?” He scoffs at his younger brother. “Gotta kiss her till she’s stupid.”
“How uncouth.” Satoru pushes his glasses up. “Let me try.”
And then the other twin takes over- how dizzying it was to have a man with the same features, but with such different mannerisms. Satoya relentlessly leaves half-moon nail marks on your skin when he sets you free, but Satoru leans in and cups your face like a delicacy—even as his brother scoffs at the act.
“She likes being fucked dirty, lemme tell you.”
Satoya’s lewd remark is lost to the way that Satoru purses his pretty plump lips and spits—
More like drools.
A lecherous stream of spittle that ends up fallin’ onto your tastebuds- and he watches with widened eyes as you take it all in. All of it. Throat bobbing as it hits every orifice, Satoru feels it deep down in his cock once you tilt your head back and swallow-
Looking straight into both their eyes as you do.
“O-oh my-”
“Fuck.”
“I think m’gonna cum just from that.”
Satoya looks at Satoru, and they exchange a silent conversation with their gaze. Both murky blue-eyed and narrowed down at you- you’re given absolutely no warning before you’re being scooped up in a tangle of their strong arms. Satoya on your waist. Satoru cushioning your head.
They’re sprawling you out on Satoru’s bed and barely letting you hit the second bounce before they’re on you-
“Let me.”
“I hardly think that’s-”
“And which one of us does this pretty pussy like better?” Satoya pretends to cup his ear and listen - not to you, not to his brother. He’s listening to the drenched in-betweens of your legs, where if you press your thighs together then it lets out a faint squelch! “Exactly.”
Grumbling, Satoru decides to let Satoya have the bed space between your thighs.
The mattress dips where you needed them the most, and you’re feeling hot breath against your cunt. Scorching. Simmering. Taking your attention for the slightest second before you peer up at Satoru- smiling at the pouty man.
Wordlessly, you’re beckoning him with your hand.
And he seems to startle- before following your every word. Your every action. Your every syllable.
Gojo Satoru thinks he would kill a man just to have you look at him like this—always.
With your lashes fluttering up at him as he nears, with your fingertips eager to touch him- it feels like torture as soon as he’s near enough for you to play with his drawstrings. Your fingers curving into the soft cotton of his sweatpants, your palm skidding down the looooong cylindrical print of his dick. It was just so long and thick that it made you gape.
That it made your mouth water.
That it made your digits dip just below the hemline of Satoru’s grey sweatpants-
And Satoya - gruff at the attention you were drowning his brother in - decides to then drown himself in your wet pussy—he’s like a man starved. Barely leaving enough time to shove apart your legs, barely leaving enough time to push your panties to the side-
In fact, he doesn’t push your panties to the side before licking up your entrance.
Feeling for that cute vertical line of your slit through the drenched fabric. Satoya was lapping and tuggin’ apart both the underwear and your pussylips.
Lavishing just a flick of attention down your clit before he dives into your role.
Rough. Ruthless.
Rarely wasting a single second- rarely even waiting for you to accommodate his size. He just flops his lengthy muscle between your thickened folds, licking up the first few inches of your channel, before reaching back n’ fucking you in hard, rapid thrusts.
Again and again.
He’s pressing the silver orb of his piercing into every tender lil’ spot inside you.
And though Gojo Satoya was the mean type in bed, never have you known him to be this…greedy.
“S-sweetheart—” You didn’t even realize that you’d been momentarily rendered stunned by the sheer primal streeeeetch between your legs. Not until Satoru’s gasping tone permeates the air, and he’s jerking his hips up cutely. “Sweetheart, please-”
“Heh.” Satoya snickers into your cunt. The vibrations are zapping forces of electricity right up your spine-
Satoru ignores him. “I need you.” He confesses—and the sheer desperation in his voice is enough to make you buck, and to make Satoya grumble in annoyance. The older brother uses one hand to latch onto your pretty hips, roughly draggin’ you right back down onto the creaky bedsprings. That ancient furniture protests as you’re being pinned down.
And so does Satoru-
But Satoya’s cutting him off, “I don’t care what you do- but do not fuckin’ move her from my mouth.” His frigid tongue piercing sticking against the top of your clit and making you squuuuuirm. “I haven’t eaten all night.”
And your clouded mind is almost about to ask what he means-
Before he’s slitherin’ his tongue back down and flickering in and out of your hole- sliding across every hidden inch of you. Letting his prominent nose crush up against your nub.
“And this pussy’s always so tasty—”
“Fuh-fuck—!” It’s Satoru that breaks the lecherous slurps n’ squelches this time- through the cacophony, his voice rings out so prettily. Because just then you’d properly pulled down his sweatpants and taken the nerdy man’s thiiiiick, throbbing cock in your hands.
Your lips part.
Long. Rock-hard.
So hard, in fact, that this might as well have been the first time in his life that Gojo Satoru has ever been hard. It feels as though he was buuuuuurning up all the way from his globular red tip, splurgin’ out wads of precum that coat a sheen down your wrist. Gliding down to your elbow.
Actually- it wasn’t just sappy precum. It was globular beads of gleaming white that are escaping n’ escaping out of him the second you’re touching him.
Pretty round balls flinching. Every part of him was just the most innocent pink.
He throws his head back as he empties out volume after volume of his seed- so much in just a few seconds. Though not as much as he would like to, because in a split-second, Satoru reaches his hand down and plugs his leaking hole up with a thumb.
“Awww…” You’re pouting in disappointment. The excess of his cum drivels down your arm, creating patterns between your fingers.
He looks down at the sight of your voice and- fuck, he can’t handle it. He’s looking away.
Satoru can’t help but whimper. “Fuck, don’t say that. I th-think m’gonna cum again—”
“Already?” Satoya scoffs.
“Shut up.” Satoru bites back. And he might have all the endurance he needs to last all night with a textbook and his notes in front of him, but the studious man was now fighting for his life—whispering formulas underneath his breath just to bate his impending high again. So close. “Euler’s method of sequence consists of…”
But the more you’re feeling him, the harder Satoru grows.
He lays out heavily across your palm, the girth of his erection making you falter. A heft to him that makes you clench ‘round Satoya’s mouth—and the other man can’t help but grunt. He leaves a man spank! on top of your clit that leaves you squealing. “Are you focusing on me or my brother, baby?”
Barely managing to gurgle out, “B-both?”
By now you’d wrapped your fingers around Satoru’s swollen cock- giving his bulging tip slow n’ steady pumps. He chases your hand with rhythmic bucks.
But Satoya wasn’t done just yet-
After a single slide of his piercing, you’re feeling yet another slap. Rudely smearing his fingertips ‘round your clit- “Hmmm, I don’t think that’s good enough. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”
“Sh-shit—” Satoru shivers at the feeling of eyes on him. “I believe that’s right-”
“Mhmm—”
“W-what do you…” And it leaves your head dizzy to register just how fast the two brothers had gone from fighting to friends—to toying with your body together. They were meeting eyes and briefly nodding.
And it’s the last thing you’re seeing before Satoru tucks a hand underneath your chin and tilts your gaze up to his. “Forgive my disrespect, sweetheart.”
He wraps his larger fingers ‘round your own dominant hand- the one that’d been jerking off his cock. And with it all nice n’ tight, Satoru squeezes your hand at his base and starts thrusting—rutting. Like an animal in heat, he’s fucking the circular space your hand made as if he wishes it was your cunt.
“But the one you should be focusing on is me.”
Throwing a jealous look down at his grinning brother- mouth all glowing with slick. The bespectacled man tuts and reaches down to sneak his free hand underneath your t-shirt.
Dipping underneath your bra and directly groping your tits-
“Heh, look at you.” Satoya rolls his half-lidded eyes—already looking so murky with the juices of your pussy. More n’ more of it dripping down his chin as he’s thrashing his pierced tongue between your pussylips- faster n’ faster.
And the thing about Satoya was that he didn’t care if it made you squirm.
He didn’t care if it left your body restless.
He didn’t care- in fact, it was all the better if he could overstimulate you with only a few sloppy strokes. And with both Gojo twins - one babble away
Suddenly, you’re swearing that the circular metal of his piercing was hittin’ straight into one of your best spots. G-spot throbbing with pressure- and it’s making you plant your feet onto the edge of the mattress and buck-
And get draaaagged back down by Satoya’s ruthless hands. Stuck to you like adhesive.
“You seriously think I’d let my dinner escape so easily?” He asks, more to himself. His rasping tone makes a primal part of you open up, and the frat president giggles at just how much wetter you’re getting. “Awwww, look how much wetter she’s getting f’me.”
Peeking up at his brother and watching him flinch. Possessive, possessive.
Satoru pinches your right nipple. Capturing where you were softest between two fingers, he teases that peak. “There is not enough evidence for that conclusion.”
And Satoya has to admit that he feels your cunt glistenin’ even more at Satoru’s ministrations. “I don’t do any of that science shit-”
“You don’t do anything-”
“Except eat my girl out goooooood.” Dipping his tongue in and out—this time, Satoya was expanding his tastebuds and showin’ off the sheer layers of your juices that stuck to him. He always did have an incredible length to him, shovelling properly in, in, in. “Jealous?”
Satoru shivers as the crown tip of your thumb rubs down his cockhead’s slit. “N-no, because her mind’s on me anyways-”
“You fuckin’ wish.”
You almost forgot just how competitive the two could be - united in ruining you, but breaking apart at the very seams. It both bothered and turned them on to think about havin’ to drag your attention away from the other man, to think about accelerating their pace until it was nothing but a blur—Satoru’s cock clasped between your fingertips, Satoya’s tongue dipping in and out of your hole.
Fishing out so many ribbony wires of slick that it’s formulating a puddle down below. He just knew your pussy so well, and Satoru just had this utter need to him that was-
“It’s me that you want, right?” Satoru leans down to hush against the shell of your ear- his scorching hot breath setting your entire body alight. “It’s-”
“Now that’s just playing dirty.” In retaliation, Satoya slaps your clit one more—and it makes you see stars. Just because that makes your fist tighten around his brother’s cock, he lands at least three more sharp spanks before lashin’ his tongue piercing against your clit once more. A few more times as if to soothe the sting, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Satoru.”
“Oh, please…” Satoru looks away. “That’s why she should’ve been with me from the start-”
“Now that’s pushing it.”
Two more direct slams of his fingertips against your cunt- that part of you felt just as raw as your walls by this point.
You’re bucking up against the dampened sheets- “Please- oh…”
“What’s that?”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I th-think I’m gonna-”
“Shush, baby.” To your shock, Satoya shushes you both. Right before you could finish your sentence- he merely lugs his gaze back down to admire your pretty pussy
And you were almost sure you were hallucinating, because there was no way, there could be absolutely no way…but Gojo Satoya was fucking your cunt with his mouth and nodding along to every noise he produces.
Humming at the slurps, affirming at the squelches.
Almost as though he was in deep conversation with your soppin’ wet core, Satoya licks a few more times up your crevice. Before he’s finally looking up with a faux-apologetic grin, “Sorry- she’s chatty today. My pussy says she’s about to cum.”
Your jaw drops-
“Toya, you’re fucking filthy.”
He slips his metallic piercing against the roof of your cunt, thud-thud-thud—! Probing in so deep as if to say that he knows he is- and his brother bucks up even harder into your soft palm. So needy. “Th-that’s not possible.” Satoru gasps out, pushing his condensation-filled glasses further up his nose. “According to my research, there is no linguistic nature of the genitalia-”
“This is why yer a fuckin’ virgin.” Satoya rolls his hazy eyes.
Before you know it, the older of the two brothers leans upwards and bites his canines around your clit. That throbbing nub was stuck between his perfect lips- he counts a few heartbeats from your cunt, before wrenching his mouth back. Murmuring deep into your pussy—“Watch and learn as I make her cum, little brother. She’ll be thinking of me as I make her cum.”
“Sh-shit, Toya…”
Blue eyes meet bespectacled blue eyes- and Satoru’s gaze narrows. “She’ll cum because of me.” His fingers - so honed from all his sharp note-taking - finds it easy to twist n’ turn your nipples in all the ways you liked.
He was alternating between both, flickering his thumb around your soft areolas.
“That’s the spirit.” Satoya says, almost talking down. “But m’doing it first-”
“I disagree-”
“At least use her mouth.” Muffling against your pussylips, Satoya’s mouth opens up so wiiiiiide to engulf every part of your dripping wet cunt. Like Satoru, he was following an alternating method that has his textured tastebuds hittin’ the inside of your channel one second, and counting the throbs of your clit the next.
Satoya raises an unimpressed brow, “Well? What’re you waiting for? I told you she’s a dirty girl-”
“Shut up, m’not delaying…” Though he was. He really, really was. Satoru hesitates - not because he didn’t want to—fuck, how he wanted to.
How he really, really wanted to.
But he’s on his sixtieth formula by now and already about to explode- already dribblin’ out milky wads of precum. It was growing thicker and more incessant by the second, and Satoru could feel himself trembling, he could feel his heavy balls start to clench—
And yet that smug look on his brother’s face is enough to spur him into action.
Satoru jerks his hips just a little too hard on purpose- and all it takes is the tiniest glide between your puckered lips for him to shatter.
Into all sorts of zillions of pieces. Into looooong ribbony wires of cum that dribble down like a waterfall from the agitated red divot at his tip.
It’s letting out all sorts of lecherous noises as he cums—and soon enough your vision’s flooded with white. Just the most gleaming layers of his ivory sap that drench you, and at this point you can’t quite worry about it getting everywhere n’ all into your hair- because Satoya’s quirking his tongue just right to make you cum.
To tip you over the edge.
Those waves of pleasure break across every inch of your being- leaving your limbs trembling. Toes curling. Spine arching - making it all the more easy for Satoya to grab your hips in one hand and make you rut against him. He’s lashin’ out thorough strokes against every inch of your clit, the tip of his tastebuds resting teasingly on your clit.
Feeling for just how much your hole quivers for him- and you’re quiverin’ away just enough, Satoya fucks you through the peaks of your high. Peak after peak.
His younger brother elongates those white-hot whizzes of pleasure by twisting your nipples. Toying. They were just so sensitive after so much contact, making you shake into him.
Your tongue sticks out to taste more of his salted caramel seed.
And your head clouds with raw carnal pleasure, “P-please, it feels so good—” Lips wobbling, both brothers lean in to see which name you’re ending your sentence off with. “-Gojo.”
They’re sharing looks with each other.
And then they’re looking at you.
“Now now, we can’t have that.” Satoya croons.
“If that was a question during our practice tests, sweetheart, you’d get zero marks.” Satoru breathes out, finally having caught his breath. Though he still slightly trembled with the aftershocks of his orgasm, swirlin’ the roundness of his cockhead down your mouth—“Shit.”
He pulls away before he cums yet again.
“Newton’s first law of gravity…”
“Fuckin’ virgin.” Satoya repeats. “Pussydrunk from just- hah, that-”
“I beg your pardon-”
“Pussydrunk from just that-” He’s spankin’ down on your clit with his tongue- “Isn’t that right, baby? He should be more like- mmpf, me—” Struggling to get through the constant thrashes of his tongue, the way his jaw unhinges further. “Should be more in control-”
“Fuck-” Fucking his pierced tongue back into your struggling channel - it makes you gasp.
“Should be more—fuck, nonchalant. Heh.”
“Toya, again-”
“Should be more…mmmm.”
And it’s then that you’re realizing that Gojo Satoya wasn’t planning to finish his sentence - he wasn’t planning to even pull away. He was further reaching between your legs and gasping as he fucked your cunt with his mouth again and again and again-
“Move.”
When pushing doesn’t work, Satoru grabs ahold of Satoya’s hair and wrenches the man away from your pussy—fuck. You could feel yourself growing unfairly wetter at the surprising forcefulness to the nerdy man.
Before long, Satoya’s been pushed aside whilst the bespectacled twin fits himself between your legs.
Satoya raises a brow as if waiting-
One impatient tick that turns into something of impressive nature—because without warning, Satoru spits. Messy, just like his twin had.
“I have to wash him off.” He murmurs, watching the line of spit fall vertically down your slit. Before he lurches his face into your cunt soooo far deep that you’re sure he wouldn’t be able to breathe. And he’s eating you out like he doesn’t need to.
Doesn’t care to.
White brows furrowing, a moan cracks at the back of his throat. Fingers tightening. Blue eyes going wide. There’s an electric current that runs through Satoru’s body- like the first taste of your treacly pussy had him seeing heaven itself.
Those pearly gates were openin’ up wide for him—and so were your legs.
And it’s on pure animal instinct that he jerks himself even closer. Unfastening his maw, he’s sloshin’ his wet muscle inside again and again.
And again and again.
His first time tasting pussy, and he was gone already.
The length of Satoru’s tongue was about as incredible as Satoya’s, though slightly less flexible. But it was that lumbering inexperience of his that made his entrances feel so good - constant, with no rhyme or reason other than sticking inside so sloppily that it made your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“I need to…oh.” Satoru gasps out into your pussy. Grabbing your quivering flesh even tighter- “I need to—ngh, fuck.”
“Need to what, Toru?” You’re asking in that pretty voice of yours.
And it’s damn near enough to make him cum again- urging his body to rut against yours. “I need- fuck. I need to r-remember my studies…”
“Your studies?”
“Hah- you studied?” Satoya snickers out from somewhere above you. “Nerd.”
It gives you a good jolt to realize that he’d somehow walked right up to where your body was laid, making the bed creak once he rests his thick kneecaps against the mattress. The area beside your head dips as the older brother inches closer—
Satoru nods belatedly at your question. “I r-read about this during one of my…long and lonely nights.” Peering up at you through his long lashes, something unreadable in his eyes. “Fucked my cock raw learning about how I’d make you feel good.”
Rutting. Humping the mattress.
“I read about it in medical journals- I even read about it on sex forums.” He pants out, “And I—I fucking took notes…” Looking around his room as though to grab them right now. “But now, I just can’t remember…”
Plastering those slick lips of his against your entrance—and then whimpering as he pulls away- for but a mere second before he lands back down. A few more open-mouthed kisses prior to the entire sequence repeating.
Like he was struggling not to lose himself to your cunt.
Like he was struggling not to kiss n’ kiss his swollen mouth against your pussy - you were just too addictive. He was fighting with himself to actually wrench away from your sloppy hole n’ clear his head. The valedictorian was stumped.
He stares down intensely at your drivelling pussy, his glasses frames crushing against your folds.
Pouting against your clit at this little dilemma- meanwhile Satoya comments something about how it was a miracle that Satoru found the clit in the first place.
“Pussy so good ya can’t even think.” The older twin is tittering down at you.
And it’s the last thing you’re hearing—before suddenly whatever noises erupted in your throat are being fuuuucked back down.
With a singular stripe of his rotund cockhead. Thick and aching.
Pounding away at the back of your neck. In those brief moments that you’d been distracted, the other brother had tugged down his ripped jeans and boxers. Bearing your lips with his thickening tip - from up-close, it seemed as though Satoru might actually have been longer.
But Satoya was heeeefty and fat enough that he always left your thighs pressing together.
That flared tip of his glistens in the dim light, it perfectly illuminated the patterns of his veins. So many of them coverin’ the circumference and length of him, whirling their way ‘round and ‘round and—and now you were feeling those very same patterns indent in the back of your throat.
The nerd was longer while the frat boy was thicker.
Satoya pulls his hips back and leaves you gasping- “Heh…”
Just to watch how you’re ruined on his fat fuckin’ cock.
You’re barely blinking before suddenly Satoya’s hounding figure finds itself climbing properly onto the bed- with each of his incredibly thick legs straddling your face. Muscles flexing whilst Satoya crushes you between his thighs and fucks that pretty mouth of yours.
With harsh, humpin’ thwacks! of his tannish cockhead. He tastes like a slightly sweeter version of his brother, you feel sinful admitting - and that wonderous part of your brain thinks that it might be because of Satoya’s better diet as an athlete-
Thwack! Thwack!
“Oi—” He’s slammin’ the rounded edge of his tip down on your tongue. One hand on your chin to gape your jaw wide enough for him, “Don’t zone out w’me, baby.”
“I wasn’t…” You mumble stubbornly.
“Yeah, right.” Satoya snickers. He’s then back to bumpin’ away his swollen cockhead at your throat- reaching for that lil’ dangly thing that he always loved to play with.
It was just obscene how much your lips were stretching and gaping around his thick size.
Smearing your pretty lipstick down his shaft—shit, he might just get that shit tattooed on his cock. Decorating every solid inch of him with the looooong sensual fucks he was planting into your dewy wet mouth. “See that?” Satoya calls over his shoulder, “My girl was fuckin’ bored with you eating her out.”
“Erm- actually—”
“Shut up and do yer job.”
Satoru pushes his thick glasses up his nose- “Fuck off.” Pretending he doesn’t hear his brother’s chuckles. And you have to realize that Gojo Satoru wasn’t the valedictorian for no reason - he was nothing if not determined. And if he was an academic weapon, then surely he could be a weapon between your legs, too?
Somehow, he’s so pussydrunk that he whispers this between your legs. Almost as if a promise to your pussy.
And right—there was another reason he was valedictorian.
He had a damn good memory.
“Th-the Gräfenberg spot is typically located on the anterior vaginal walls.” He’s rattling off- now removing his greedy mouth (but only with a few extra kisses) to reach up with shivering fingers. Satoru’s slender fingertips pry apart your swollen folds, pressin’ inwards sensually.
“Oh—” You’re gasping as much as you could - though it was so difficult with Satoya’s cock stuffing your orifice.
And Satoru gapes at the quivers of your pussy- “About two to three inches up the mucosa, it’s part of the prostate system that—” The rest of his sentence gets swallowed up by Satoya grabbing either side of your sweaty head and using it as leverage. Digging his neat nails into your skin, he ruts down into you like he’s furious-
“And has a theorized structure of vascular networks causing sexual stimulation.” He rasps out, mouth now moved to gulp at your pretty clit. Satoru watches his brother fuck your poor maw- and his two fingers start matching his pace. Meeting it.
Hard and frenzied.
You’re feeling one prod at the back of your throat, and then another into the deepest depths of your cunt.
Velvety walls clamping down on Satoru’s digits as though trying to memorize him in there—his pretty fingertips. Souring every inch of you. Faster and faster, he gets more ravenous to find that gooey spot inside that he knows would make you feel good-
“Need any help, little brother?”
Satoru scowls, “Never.”
“Heh, alright.” Satoya responds, “But just know that m’not going easy on my girl.”
“I’m not going easy on my girl, either.”
And then it happens- all in one go.
Satoya bottoms out until your nose presses against the curls of white at his base.
Satoru pumps his fingers into your throbbing g-spot.
And he realizes by the way you’re clenching.
Immediately. He jerks his nimble fingers back and thrashes in just a few more times- targeting that one bundle of nerves. And perhaps it’s in their genetics, because both Satoru and Satoya are able to aim every movement to perfectly strike that spot.
That round, throbbing spot.
He’s scrapin’ his fingertips on the wettened area of it—“I found it…” Breathless, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I really found it- it’s right here—” Demonstrating by making a long slide down that sweet spot, “Right on this part of the adventitia that has this little- fuck.”
“Ngh—fuck, that feels good.” You’re muffling out between gasps. Satoya’s furiously hard cockhead hittin’ your throat once more. He fills you up with both his dollops of pre and his inches-
“Tch, beginner’s luck.” Satoya scoffs. “Now, the real challenge is getting that pretty pussy to cum- you see, I’m her favorite so-”
“Uh-huh.” Satoru nods - not at his brother. But down at your pussy—“Really? Because she says I’m her favorite now.”
“D’you copy during your exams, too?”
“Are you a sore loser during your games, too?”
With barbed words exchanged from both sides, they’re both toying with your pretty body. So cute and overstimulated like this- so it’s no surprise that with only a few more strokes of Satoru’s fingers, and with a few more thrusts of Satoya’s cock, you’re falling apart all over again.
All because of them.
Push after push.
Rub after rub.
Fucking you through the riotous peaks of your orgasm.
Since this was your second in a short amount of time, they were sharper n’ more unpredictable than before.
The only thing you can do is lean back into the rickety mattress and take everything you’re given, those bursts of pleasure turning nearly unbearable every time Satoru bruises your pretty g-spot. Memorized its place. Studied it.
Digging past your elastic walls like he’d go even deeper if he could. He wonders how much further till your womb…
Meanwhile Satoya reaches behind him to slap your poor, puckered nipples.
They were ripe after his brother’s groping earlier, and all the other man has to do is spank you around a little to make your body writhe. “P-please-”
“Awww, don’t cry, my poor baby.” Satoya’s roughened fingertips then move to wipe your tears. Gently dragging his knobbled tips down the side of your wet face- “How’re you gonna suck my cock if you’re crying?”
At this, your jaw drops. And Satoru can’t help but startle out a laugh—“You’re a fucking animal, you know that?”
“I know.”
“Be nice.”
“Nah.”
And to your surprise, Satoru isn’t reprimanding him anymore - he’s simply peeking up and taking pleasure in the sight of you havin’ every inch of your mouth ruined. Until your lips were swollen. Until your nose tingled at the scratch of his unruly white happy trail—and Satoya himself can’t help but trek his left hand down and piiiiiinch your nostrils closed. Still shoveling his cck at a frenzied pace.
Just to watch you squirm.
Satoru hums something interested.
And pinches your clit—
You think you might be shattering into your third high of the night, your fourth.
Either way, all you know is that a few seconds have passed by the time you’re blinking your hazy eyes open again - cunt sensitive, throat shot - and staring down at the vision of Satoru and Satoya who’ve regrouped themselves to the foot of the bed now.
They’d both climbed aboard now, and it dipped with pressure.
It’s as if you were seeing double.
You stare wide-eyed at the men who looked so-very alike: their mouths swollen n’ dripping with your slick, their cocks dripping with their own.
Messy white hair.
Glazed blue eyes.
It was impossible to pick which one was more handsome- both so attractive in two completely different ways. Both so attractive even when they were…playing rock-paper-scissors?
“Rock-”
“Paper-”
“Scissors-”
“Shoot-”
“I win.”
Satoru holds up the paper in retaliation to Satoya’s rock—and the other man looked as though he could so-very-conveniently punch the other man with it. Satoya’s brows furrow, eyes flickering over from his brother to you. “I’m sorry, baby. Your Toya tried-”
“Hey-”
But the other man is merely sighing as he finds himself thrown next to you, taking off his jacket and coaxing you into his big arms. And how could you deny?
Satoya was chiselled until it was almost unfair- how could a man in real life possibly look this good? It was almost Herculean in nature, with the most luscious pecs and abs that could go on for daaaaays—there was a natural attractiveness to them that drew your eyes. And you could already feel your mouth watering at the thought of being wrapped up in him- which, of course, makes the older twin flex up at Satoru.
Despite cumming in your mouth moments prior, Satoya was rock-hard. Just the slightest cap of creamy white covering his mushroomy tip.
One that he’s swiping on his thumb and reaching up to press between your lips. “Drink up, now.” He’s cooing down at you, pushing in the rest of the remnant sap across your face. Gojo Satoya had left a mess. “Yer gonna need it with this fucker-”
“Oh.” At Satoru’s protests, you turn to him. “But I think he’ll do great- won’t you, Toru?”
Satoya looks at you incredulously, “Baby, he’s a virgin—you think he’ll be able to fuck you like he deserves-”
“I fear it has slipped your mind that I’m right here-”
“And he talks like that.”
Satoru pushes those glasses of his - now lacquered in a layer of your sweet, sweet sap - up his nose. For perhaps the first time tonight, he’s speaking out in an even tone. “Spread her legs f’me, big brother.”
“Eugh, get away from me.”
“I’m going to punch you.”
“Tch—” Satoya scoffs- but makes to rest his hands on your legs. He’s easily maneuvering you to sit against that toned chest you loved so much - your back against his front, your head falling back against his collarbone.
Practically a full nelson.
Both sets of his fingers dig against the flesh of your inner thighs- wrenching those trembly limbs open. And you’re helping him do so with a whimper- “Not too eager now, baby.” Satoya hums against your ear, “Satoru here’s gonna fuck you. And after that…this pretty pussy’s gonna be happy to feel me.”
As Satoru settles himself between your legs, Satoya’s hands dip higher and higher. The curvature of his fingertips tracing patterns across your sizzlin’ skin, he’s just about to reach between your pussylips and press on your clit when-
“Satoya.” Satoru’s voice sounds huskier than ever.
The sudden change in tone is what makes you turn your head- but it’s the sight of him that makes you keep your head tilted.
Satoru had tugged off his soft sweater by now—and what was underneath that soft sweater was anything but…Nearly as chiselled as his older brother, Satoru cocks his head to the side and watches your reaction.
Watches you gawk at the fine lines of his defined muscles, the way his biceps flexed as he throws his sweater off to the side. Toned pecs. A firm v-line.
Now, you’d always assumed that Gojo Satoru was the somewhat lanky type- perhaps somewhere in the middle? He was tall and broad, but those loose clothes of his made it hard to determine anything other than the fact that he had really good shoulders. What an utter shock to realize that he had more than just good shoulders-
“It’s my N-New Year’s Resolution.” Satoru’s voice pipes up, this time in the softer, more familiar tone that you knew was his. You’re ripping your eyes away from his body (quite the difficult task) to meet his shy gaze. “I’ve been working out.”
Your jaw drops, “But it’s still February?”
“Genetics.” Satoya pipes up from behind you. Looking at Satoru- “And unfortunately we are related.”
“Shut it.” It seems that Satoru’s brash side only ever came out when he was with his brother - and he’s narrowing his blue peripherals at your core. “And spread my girl’s legs wider. I won’t fit between them otherwise.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
It’s not long before your hamstrings are being stretched as far apart as they’d go—and the burning pleasure in your limbs are almost as satisfying as the one between your legs. The one at your very dewy pussy that squelches as Satoru perks his hips closer.
One hand guiding his thick tip, the other pressing down on your right thigh.
“Fuck.” He gasps once his furious, red cockhead slides between your pussylips- just a few liiingering slides uuuuuup and down.
Satoru’s head falls forward. His body arches into yours.
He’s letting out a slew of curses every time he’s ruttin’ his hips against yours- not even properly fucking you, just sandwiching his thickened shaft between your pussylips. Feeling the way your sodden lips were swallowing him up—clenching.
Your hole wanted him so badly.
“Fuck fuck fuck-” the feeling of your inner mucosa. Satoru stumbles across his movements, properly positioning his tip now to actually push inside your entrance. There’s a line of drool gliding down the corner of his mouth. “Fuck.”
Over a million words in the English language, over 500,000 words in Japanese. Over 370,000 words in Modern Chinese, over 40,000 words in Classical Latin, and over 10,000 words in Swahili - and that’s not counting the languages that he wasn’t fluent in.
An abundance of words, and yet he can’t truly describe what he’s feeling when he first enters your pussy.
A sudden shiver scatters goosebumps across his body, and he’s straining his arm against your legs—you swear you could almost hear the slurp! of his precum emptying straight onto your pussylips. Inside. The sensation of feeling a pussy - your pussy - for the first time was almost too much for the inexperienced man, and he’s bucking.
He’s humping.
Probin’ aside your pussylips and stretching out your entrance into a wiiiiide ‘oh’. Though his brother might have been thicker than him, Satoru himself wasn’t exactly slender.
Though smooth n’ curved in just the way that let him slip inside—
“Fuck- you’ve taken my virginity.” He’s acting like an animal. “Quantum Field Theory—” A slurring sentence leaving him with every single thrust, it almost sounded as though he was drunk. “Electromagnetism-” He’s reaching so deeply inside of you with his curvaceous pink tip, just the crowned edge of his cock that was aiming to claim every spot inside you. Every hidden spot. “Fluid dynamics- Navier–Stokes equation is the application of F = ma to fluids-”
“I have another fluid dynamic for ya…heh.” Satoya grubs against the side of your temple. With a burst of scorched laughter, he’s leaning himself back against the mattress - and taking you right along with him.
And Satoru can’t help but chase your cunt with feral need.
Barely letting Satoya rest before he’s takin’ over your slick entrance to swirl n’ swirl his tip inside. Mazing inside. Mouth watering as his older twin rests his hands underneath your thighs and peeeels your legs even further to their sides.
It makes you squeal as you feel a sudden splosh! escape from your quivering cunt. “O-oh—now that’s just unfair.”
“Unfair?” Satoya scoffs. “What’s unfair is this fucker cumming early.”
“Huh?” Satoru cranes his head to look down at wherever nonsense- oh.
Oh…he really had cum early.
Creamy white sap froths your entrance like icing. Gluing against either side of your thighs, dribbling down the line of your slit. Every time that he’s lurching his cock in just an inch, a splurge of it glazes his rude cockhead and trickles down his shaft. From there, it looked as though your cunt was wearing the prettiest gloss upon your folds- and Gojo Satoru would definitely agree.
And it’s only then that the realization hits - to both you and the utterly pussydrunk Gojo Satoru - that he’d cum just from feeling your pussy.
Sometime during the first touch up your slit, n’ the first time he had thrusted—and of course, what else is one to do but admire their handiwork? What else is one to do but reel their hips back just a little and thrust and thrust—
Making Satoya giggle at the sheer force. He’s being pushed back against the damn headboard with every single sodden thrust into you- “Easy there, little brother.”
“Fuck off. Ejaculation is simply a natural process of the urethral meatus in response to stimulation- so what?”
“I’m just saying…” And with a single flick of his thumb, Satoya has your clit pulsing between his fingertips. “Keep going like that and yer gonna wear yourself out before you can ruin her—”
“Wh-what do you mean?” At this, Satoru looks up through his thick bangs.
“Cheh, didn’t yer damn research tell you this?”
And you’re watching the exchange like a tennis match - except you might just be the ball.
“S’not just fucking her like a madman.” Satoya lectures. As if to prove his point, he’s drawin’ a cute heart on top of your sensitive nub and making you shrill—then looking up at Satoru as if to say ‘see? “You’ve gotta know when to- fuck, toy with her pussy. You’ve gotta know when to drive her so wild with pleasure that she can take your cock properly- bottomed-out yet?”
Satoru looks down. “Not yet.”
Satoya nods, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him—except maybe when he was in the middle of some basketball tournament. The finals. Rubbin’ on your clit loooooong and slow- “Mmm, now try fucking this pretty pussy fast.”
“Mhm.”
And he does—fuck, he does.
The contrast between the frat president’s fingers on your clit - and the nerd’s cock between your trembling legs - was almost too much to handle. Your poor brain muddles up, and you’re bucking up into him—“Toru—Toya. Fuck.”
“See?” Satoya grins.
Satoru nods with an even wider grin.
“Now try going slow.”
This time, Satoya goes frenzied on top of your clit whilst Satoru’s fucking you in hard, thorough thrusts. Solid. Sudden. They were ones designed to reach the very back of your cunt, and you’re feeling the slamming pressure of each one in your throat-
Just trying to fit himself inside—
“Her- her epithelium, I can feel her stretching so much-”
After a few more minutes of this, Satoru’s hearing your cunt stutter out the loudest, most lecherous slurp! yet…
And he’s staring down with his half-lidded blue eyes to realize that he’d just bottomed-out. For the very first time in his life.
For the very first time, point-blank.
Bulging peripherals rolling to the back of his head, he swears he feels heaven in the way your sopping wet walls squeezed all of him. Every ridge and curve and even the rare vein—just a single clench more n’ he’s gonna start cumming deep into your womb.
Tears streaming down his cheeks, “Fuh-fuck.”
“I know, right?” Satoya muses from behind you. You’re whimpering as he lets go of your clit to reach a palm up- and Satoru meets the high-five with only slight wariness.
“Right on.”
And then it’s both of their urges to pleasure you.
Both working together. Both trying to one-up each other—before Satoya plants a loud smack! on top of your swollen folds.
And that will usually have Satoru startling at the sheer noise- gaping at how that only made you feel wetter ‘round his cock. “She really is a dirty fuckin’ girl…”
“Told you.”
Satoya’s thick fingertips travel from circling your clit to juuuuust a little further down, down, down. There, he teases your pussylips a little - rubbed raw from all the contact you’ve had tonight - down to your asscheeks.
Perfect and pretty.
Satoya gives them a little smack! before proceeding to spread them apart.
“Don’t tell me you’re…” Satoru sounds reproachful, but you could see the slight twitch of his lips.
“And so what?” The other twin plasters his lips to your temple, “If my pussy’s been taken over by my brother—then at least gimme that other cute hole, baby.”
Satoru shrugs, “As long as that thing isn’t touching me- eugh.”
You’re nodding, “Please-” Staring up into their two beautiful faces - one in front, one behind. “I want you both.”
“Dirty girl.” Satoya hums.
“Dirty girl.” Satoru agrees. “Can’t get enough of the Gojo twins, can you?”
You’re shaking your head.
Satoru smushes your cheeks together with one of his hands, tilting your face up to his. “Say it f’me, sweetheart?”
“I c-can’t…get enough—” And if you were in any other state right now, then you might just’ve been embarrassed at how whiny you sounded. “-of the Gojo…oh.”
And at that very moment, you feel Satoya’s thick, rounded cockhead pierce through your other hole.
It starts off slow—almost soothing. Just the silken globe of his erection, that mushroomy tip that passes through with little to no resistance - your body was always so pliant with Gojo Satoya. He takes pride in that fact.
But then comes…the rest of him.
How sinful that the more thicker of the twins was going into through your asshole- you could feel the tightness of your rim struggling to accommodate him. Feeling his prominent veins rub up against tender spots inside that you had no idea even existed, feeling his raw thickness inch inside and leave you sobbing.
“Oh my god—” You’re keening out at the feeling of Satoya easing inside. “T-Toya—”
And hearing you scream out his brother’s name- well, Satoru couldn’t fall too far behind, right? He was always the first in class, the first in the Physics Department, the first of the twins to pound your pretty pussy tonight - and he’s taking advantage of the fact.
He’s planting his heels down on the rickety mattress and shovelling.
Letting the reddened, swollen tip of his cock maze inside as if a searchlight aiming to find your most tender spots.
And perhaps it was muscle memory from earlier, perhaps it was sheer carnal nature—but it takes only one or two strokes for Satoru to probe deep inside and locate your g-spot. To ready his gluttonous tip and press a passionate welcome smooch against it.
You’re jolting as though struck by a million volts of electricity. “Toru—”
Like music to his ears, Satoru looks smugly down at his brothers. To which Satoya merely rolls his eyes and spreads his capped knees- in a single second, he’s arching his hips off the dampened mattress and puuuuushing that throbbing cock of his between your ass cheeks.
Bottoming out.
With both twins fully stuffed inside you - and with both twins reachin’ for the sweetest nerves inside - it’s no surprise that you find yourself sobbing out of pleasure.
Overstimulated on their lengths already.
You’re throwing your head back and babbling- “Toru—Toya.” Repeating their first names as though you were a broken record player, that in itself being one with one very favorite syllable: To. “To- fuck…To—”
Two simultaneous whacks! into your deepest depths leave you scrambling to pick up your thoughts. And your ability to speak.
“To—”
You’re arching against Satoya’s ripped front, and you press right into Satoru’s toned chest. Stuck in-between two brothers who just couldn’t seem to get enough of you—and they’re sharing a wide-eyed look with one another that doesn’t go unnoticed.
You flit your own teary gaze between the two, attempting to figure out what it meant.
And they always do say that some twins have telepathic abilities, don’t they?
Perhaps that’s what’s happening right now- because both unspoken and at the exact same time, Satoru and Satoya are recoiling their hips backwards.
Then returning with the hardest, most honed ruts.
Barely even hammering inside- just pure, carnal half-thrusts given just to drive you wild.
Thrust after thrust.
Probe after probe.
They don’t wait for one another, merely trusting that the other will catch up. And they don’t back down, either—every rugged hit pushed into your depths only seems to spur the other brother into reciprocating that strike twofold.
They’re learning the power of teamwork through your pussy?!
Satoru snags his flared tip on the crevice of your g-spot, whilst Satoya spends his time pummeling your ass. He was stretching you out in ways you don’t think you’ve ever been stretched out before - anal wasn’t something you did with him. And now…now he’s groaning at those cute clenches of your walls as though he was slowly falling in love with them.
The rugged texture of his thumb matching n’ contrasting with whatever calculated pace that Satoru was drilling into you. The bespectacled man has no shame reachin’ one of his thumbs down and swirling it in the excess leaks of his cum, collecting it all onto his fingerpad, he forces it between your pussylips and back into your hole.
Not a single drop wasted.
Satoru raises his cum-glazed fingertips up to his own mouth- and sucks.
“And ya call me the filthy one?” Satoya snickers.
“Aren’t you?”
“You’re a secret freak, weirdo-”
“Says the public freak.” Satoru flickers his eyes down to admire your cunt- he couldn’t believe that it’d taken this long since he managed to have you. To taste you. To feel you.
But now that he had you clenchin’ around his swollen shaft like this, and now that he had your pussylips coated in all his cum, Satoru knows he needs to have you again. He needs to love on you with his cock like this again—he’s sure he’d die if he didn’t. He’s sure of it.
And that damn brother of his-
“I know yer cursing me out mentally.” Satoya’s voice echoes through the heady bedroom. His grip grows more possessive underneath your thighs, and that blushin’ red tip of his even more ravenous to activate your nerves. There was a reason that the two of you had continued a…somethingship for so long.
And one of the main reasons being that he just had so much chemistry with your body. That he’s leaving you breathless, like you left Satoya every single fucking moment he was with you. “Ya get this look on your face- jealous I could have her first, huh?”
“Doesn’t matter what’s first—” Satoru grunts. Pampering your gooey depths with a dollop of precum, “It matters who’s last.”
“Yeah, and that’s gonna be me-”
“That’ll be me-”
“Yeah, right.” Satoya starts—and in your hazy mind, you’re registering that they were about to start fighting again. But how could you bring yourself to stop them- when they’re shattering every coherent thought in your brain with their bludgeoning cocks. Faster and faster. How long can a truce really last? “A virgin that doesn’t know her pussy as well as I do-”
“And which one of us is- ngh, making her feel good with her pussy now?”
“You think you’re even half as good as me?” Satoya sounds condescending. “Man, I hate to break it to ya- but you’re just for tonight. I’m gonna be there for her every night—”
“Every night until she gets a boyfriend, that is.” Satoru cocks his head with a dimpled smile. “Me.”
“She’s out of your league, nerd.”
“She’s out of yours, too-”
“Boys.” It’s with the most significant effort - every single ounce of will in your body, actually - that you’re managing to keep your voice steady. And both men turn their matching blue eyes to meet your half-lidded gaze.
Just so botched from all the times you’d been crying out in bliss tonight. It sounds scratchy once you say- “Just sh-shut up and make me—”
“Fuckin’ cum.”
“Reach your orgasm.”
They already know the answer before you utter it.
And it doesn’t take much for them to work in a frenzied rhythm on your cunt n’ your ass - staking their claim before the other. It was dizzying to be sandwiched between them. Because they’re probing into your every sweet spot, they’re dragging across your slick channels, they’re furrowing their brows to concentrate before they themselves cum—and before long, they’re pushing you straight into your nth high of the night.
Cumming.
It takes over you swift and flashing - you think you see stars dance before your very vision. Toes curling. Body arching into them.
There weren’t as many peaks during this orgasm as you had during your last few. And it isn’t long before feeling those zaps of electricity taper off- leaving your mouth babbling, and your throat hatching in sobs.
Again and again.
Satoru and Satoya fuck you through the brief tremors of your high—their dual tips entering both your channels. No doubt that your poor g-spot n’ clit were bruised by their touching by now. Stirrin’ about your insides, pumping out heeeeeaving hot messes of cum straight into your womb and deepest insides - it sloshes about as you’re bucking.
Fucking back into both of them.
The wads of their ropey seed stick to your every nook and cranny, creating a sheen between your legs that splatters all over. So much more than you ever thought possible for you to fit - because both of them had so much stored up.
Both of them had so many pangs of pleasure that could only be achieved by ruttin’ into your glossy wet pussy. Long and hard. Hot and cloying to your insides. They were the best orgasms of their entire life.
All because of you.
Filled to the brims until those brims couldn’t handle it anymore. Globular tips only fucking those leaking wads even deeper. Creamy with sap n’ droooooling out all those glazing wads into your deepest innards- even the slightest movements make you feel the splashes inside of you.
The most lecherous sounds escape you as they finally finish off their incredible waves of bliss. Balls finished clenching and sucked all dry—
Satoya’s peering down at the mess they’ve made of you, “Next round, I want her pretty pussy- but you’ve gotta wash that nasty stuff out.”
“Oh, fuck off-”
“And we’re taking turns.”
“Taking turns on what—?”
It’s a voice you’ve never heard before, then again, it’s not a voice you register as completely unfamiliar—there was something about it. Something about the pitch of it. Something about the lilting words. Something about that sort of rich voice that both the Gojo twins shared
And so some part of you hears the connection before you see it.
Before an exact clone of the twins above n’ below you on the bed walks through those bedroom doors.
White hair.
Blue eyes.
Those exact pretty features that made people stop on the roads, hoping for a second glance.
Except…this Gojo donned a sort of cowboy hat on his head - his button-up snug and revealing a sturdy build. His boots polished till they gleamed, and his arms all tanned—sun-kissed. It really did suit the two bouquets of flowers in his hands. If Satoru was spring, Satoya was summer, then he would be autumn - how he reminded you of the sturdiness of fall trees and the warmth of seasonal pumpkin beverages. The scent. The sight.
His jaw drops.
And so does yours- “Th-there’s another one of you—?” You’re shrilling between the two twins- no, you suppose they’d be triplets now?!
Satoya shrugs, “Multiple too many.”
“Multiple- so how many are there really…” And then you shake your head, almost fearful to hear the answer. “Why didn’t you tell anyone-”
“To be quite frank, it’s simply that no one asked.” Satoru answers this time.
Meanwhile, their brother lingers awkwardly at the door—he’d turned away respectfully as soon as he realized what he was seeing. Though he doesn’t make a move to re-enter the living room, torn between actually making that escape and wondering whether he was actually hallucinating or not—
That is, until you’re beckoning him over.
Within the next few minutes, Gojo Satohiro has his back leaned against the wooden headboard n’ you between his legs. Your back turned to him, your cunt swallowed up his eeeeven thicker red cock in the most lecherous swerves, bumps, and grinds.
Reverse cowgirl.
“Giddy uuuuup, girlie.” Satohiro coos as he juuuust perks his hips and ends up stroking your g-spot - the fastest one to find it. His bulbous mushroom tip finds permanent residence smoochin’ away at that tight spot. “C’mon- just a little harder now. You got this.”
“I’m- I’m trying—” Thighs aching. Moaning.
And he’s punishing you with a sudden spank of calloused fingertips- right where your right ass cheek was still sore from all the contact with Satoya. “Not trying hard ‘nough for me, sugar.”
His slight country accent (was that Kansai?) made your cunt grow even wetter- and the oldest of the Gojo brothers could feel it—
“Let me treat the lady.”
Maybe that’s why, before long, he’s pushing you down head-first into the pillows. Fingers planting yet another slap to your ass cheeks, cock bludgeoning away- in control now, Satohiro had the penchant to alternate between torturous slow paces n’ fast speeds that left you moooooaning—
Grabbing at Satoru’s pillows for dear life-
You’re ending up slipping your hand underneath. Pulling out something soft and…warm and…familar.
“What the hell is my h-hoodie doing here?”
The two other men seated - boxers-on and five feet apart from one another - in one corner of the room jolt—and all eyes fall upon Satoru.
At least, all eyes except Satohiro’s.
He tugs the fabric out of your hand and loops it around your eyes like a blindfold.
“Hey girlie, how ‘bout we take turns fucking you n’ you try to guess which one’s which?”
summary : after being invited over with the intent to ‘study’ by the sweetest frat boy, you end up meeting his identical twin brother who just so happens to be the nerdy version of him. but thanks to weather, they insist you stay the night - which leads to them arguing who’s bed you should sleep in, unbeknownst to the fact that you don’t mind being shared in many ways.
warning ⓘ this fic includes dry humping, f and m! receiving, oral, unprotected sex (but reader is on the pill), degradation, frat!gojo whimpers.
wc 1.4k - 𑣲 collab w @sixxels and inspired by @/toriiartz_ on tt. art by @/mochikuyo on tt
read six's part here !
—
"think this should be enough."
satoru mumbled, walking into his brothers bedroom with blankets and extra pillows in both hands. the three of you had already changed into sleep attire with yo wearing one of gojo's boxers and one of satoru's digimon shirts with the print barely there anymore.
"oh, thank you." you smiled softly up at the twin, taking the blankets from his hands, handing one over to gojo who had just sat down next to you, bed dipping under his weight.
"thanks sweetheart." gojo yawned, throwing the blanket over the two of you, bringing it up to cover his bare chest which you tried so hard not to ogle. but how could you not when his biceps were literally right there.
satoru took notice of your flushed face. his fingers dipped underneath his shirt, bringing it over his head.
great.
so now you had two shirtless boys next to you.
"hey, make some room for me." satoru removed his black frames, placing them on the nightstand before pulling the covers back to lay down, his body warmth welcoming yours. "you cold baby?" the pet name made heat pool in your tummy. before you could answer, gojo interrupted.
"don't be calling her that shit."
satoru hummed, cocking his head to the side. he took in the frown that etched on his brothers face with a stupid grin gojo just wanted to punch off.
you bit the inside of your cheeks at the tension once again, eyes darting from twin to twin.
"was asking her something.." after finishing that sentence, satoru's muscular arms wrapped around your waist, dragging you to his chest.
your eyes widened as you felt your throat dry out.
"the fuck-"
"ah ah.. we're trying to sleep here gojo. so should you."
gojo's anger only grew at that. he couldn't bear seeing his crush be groped by his sibling.
his arm shot out, pulling you away from satoru and towards his chest instead.
satoru pouted, propping his elbow on the mattress with his head on his palm. "thought we were all gonna share?"
"she's not a toy, satoru." gojo gritted out.
satoru ignored his words, instead, reaching his other hand to rest on your hip. his thumb rubbed circles on it, eyes set on your face hoping to get a reaction.
sure enough, you were pink from the neck up.
he let out a soft chuckle at that, bringing himself closer to the two of you.
"I know that. but she said it herself.." a gasp escaped your pump lips feeling something hard press against your ass from the back. "she doesn't mind sharing."
"ah- satoru?" your hands were gripping onto your best friends shoulders, trying your best not to press back against satoru.
"yes, pretty?"
any thought you were having disappeared once he gave a little thrust.
gojo's jaw was clenched, making eye contact with satoru almost daring him to do that again.
the stupid grin on satoru's face only grew like his cock inside his pants, humping you again. gojo finally snapped, pressing his clothed dick against the front of your cunt.
your leg was brought up to wrap itself around his waist, making it easier for him to dry hump.
and even when they were covered, you could easily tell they were both packing.
"you like the way I'm grinding or him, darling?" satoru whispered in your ear.
"shut it satoru." gojo pressed harder, making a moan involuntarily irrupt from your throat.
"oh? seems like someones enjoying this." satoru's lips grazed your neck, pecking lightly at first.
god, you didn't know what to do.
did this count as an orgy? were you going to hell because of this?
your fingernails dug into gojo's skin when the light pecks became harsh bites and gojo's cock somehow rubbed just right.
they both groaned at the wetness seeping through your boxers.
"fuck, you feel so good." you were already so dumbed out, you couldn't even decipher who was talking.
gojo's face leaned down to smash his lips on yours, moaning softly.
this was what he has been wanting for so long.
well, not exactly.
he didn't like the fact that his brother was right behind you, humping you into oblivion.
but he'd take what he could.
his tongue pushed past your lips, meeting yours in a tangled dance. drool was dripping down your chin in which he happily licked up.
"toru you're marking the shit out of her."
"that's the godamn point." satoru grumbled, biting down again.
you panted into gojo's neck, fluttering your eyes shut.
you felt gojo's hand that was previously holding onto your chin leave to palm his dick.
"think I came in my pants.."
satoru snorted. "thought you weren't a virgin anymore."
"you keep your fucking mouth shut." gojo fumbled with his pajama pants, slipping them down enough to pull his cock out.
and sure enough, cum was oozing out the tip.
"see what you do to me, sweet girl?"
you bit your lip, enjoying the sight of his jerking himself off.
it was huge. like really huge.
his cock was fat and a vein traveled from his tip down and disappeared into the tamed white hair he had going on.
"go on.. touch his dick." satoru ordered you, stopping the motion of his hips. a thin layer of sweat adorned his body appearing as if he was oiled up instead.
"please.." gojo's eyes met yours, moving off the bed so he was standing in front of you, dick still in hand.
he was hoping, no, praying, you'd touch him.
but his eyes almost rolled all the way back when he was met with the wetness of your mouth instead.
you were now on your knees, back arched so satoru was able to play with your ass.
"oh my-" gojo whimpered.
he fucking whimpered.
"careful gojo.. don't finish too quickly."
"kinda hard not t-to.. ngh! she feels too good!"
you bobbed your head up and down, curling your toes to prevent yourself from gagging.
"bet she tastes good too." satoru ripped the boxers off, cold air hitting right on your cunt.
he groaned, spreading your cheeks open to give a lick right on your asshole.
"you're fucking gross toru."
"you deadass came in your pants from nothing bro."
satoru dipped his head down again, flattening his tongue on your pussy, licking it up like crazy.
his moans vibrated throughout you just like how yours shot waves through gojo's dick.
"so.. so pretty. your mouths amazing!"
he began thrusting into you forcing you gag around him. he groaned, gripping your hair, watching you closely. "you were made for this.. hah." he whimpered softly.
satoru could feel your pussy flutter around his tongue, clenching repeatedly. "gonna cum, baby."
you hummed in response, too busy deep throating gojo.
"thought so. go on.. finish on my tongue."
your orgasm hit you like a heavy wave, feeling light headed. even more so when satoru swallowed every last drop and licked you absolutely clean.
"fuck.. im- im close too!" gojo slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent more embarrassing whines from coming out, throwing his head back.
you pulled away, his cock leaving your mouth with a 'pop'.
un-swallowed cum dripped down your chin, getting cleaned up by gojo's thumb. his chest moved up and down with each heavy breath, looking down at you with admiration.
"I like you so much.. so much." he finally admitted.
"you're seriously confessing right now, while I'm still here?" satoru sat down on his knees, taking his cock out as well.
it was almost the same length as his brothers, only his was thinner and clean shaven.
gojo waited eagerly to hear if you felt the same way about him. "so um.. yeah."
satoru snorted, sliding the tip inside you making you yelp.
"she likes me.. don't you baby?"
gojo's heart sank.
"no the fuck she doesn't."
"she wouldn't be letting me fuck her if she didn't like me." he bottomed out with a hiss.
you were speechless and utterly fucked out.
"i.. I do.." your eyebrows furrowed with every thrust satoru gave. his heavy hand placed itself on the small of your waist for support. "I really do!"
gojo's face brightened.
he grabbed your cheeks, smashing his lips against yours again, tasting himself on your tongue.
"im glad.." he whispered.
you smiled softly up at him but then moaned loudly. both you and gojo looked towards satoru who had spilled his seed inside you.
“oops.. in my defense we’re still in the middle of fucking!”
꒰ঌ a/n ໒꒱ . it was such a pleasure being able to do the second half for this fic !! i hope all enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it ! much love and happy new years !
I was reading a punk!geto x punk!choso x nerdy!reader last night and had to be partnered up with them for a group project on a subject reader doesn’t really understand, and I passed out and woke up to my feed being refreshed and I forgot to like it. If anyone knows what I’m talking abt PUH LEASE send me the link I’m losing my mind, been thinking about it all day.
summary! frat boy gojo's come to you seeking help on his physics homework (when in reality, he just wants to be around you), and when you get to his apartment, you're surprised to see his equally as attractive, yet very nerdy looking twin. if his brother was so smart, why did he need your help? and worser yet, why were they both eying you up like something to eat..? (fratjo is awkward and sweet, nerdjo is flirty and sly.)
PART TWO <– here by @pillsatoru as apart of our collab !
"c'monnn, please sweetheart? i'll even pay you."
gojo was constantly nagging you in physics. if the course wasn't gruelling enough, this 6'4 chunk of awkward muscle was making it worse with his insistence on being the centre of your attention.
"just a few hours at my off campus place! no frat guys involved at all, pleaseeee?" he begged from his seat next to you.
he had his head tilted and propped up in his palm, with his stupid backwards hat and that infuriatingly seductive stare. after a few minutes of pleading, you caved.
“okay,” you mumble after a second, pretty eyes falling over your notebook. “but only because you look really stressed. and just for a bit, yeah?"
yeah, 'stressed'. little did you know he was fine at the subject, he just needed an excuse to hang out with you because he was too shy to ask you out properly. for a notorious charmer like gojo, he was surprisingly bad at talking to you, the one girl he actually wanted.
he gave you quick side hug and scuffled your hair, jumping out of his seat, "you won't regret this!" and he zoomed off mumbling something about needing to 'tell his bro to clean up.' whatever that meant.
you blush at the empty seat he left behind, fingers tapping at your pen. your heart feels a little fast, which is stupid, because it’s just gojo. your silly, overly friendly-friend gojo. you tell yourself you only agreed because you didn’t want him to fail. that’s all!
the thing was, although you and gojo were what most would consider good friends, you'd never seen him as the guy who'd hang around someone like you.
you were shy in the way that made people lean in when you spoke because they couldn't quite hear. the kind of person who listened more than she talked, who remembered the little important things, who said sorry too often even when you didn’t even do anything wrong, and he was this big bravado fratboy who everyone loved and adored.
you two were starkly different.
but, as your relationship started to grow after he'd decided you were his new best friend in physics, you'd come to realise he was more of a nervous wreck hiding behind fake confidence than anything.
he'd always toy impulsively with your cute pens, draw silly doodles all over your notes, then get shy when you drew on his back, he'd shut the lid of your laptop whenever you were typing just to piss you off, then apologise over and over when you ignored him after. he'd call you sweet names like, 'honey,' and 'sweetheart', only to blush like crazy afterwards because when it came to you, all the chivalry he'd accumulated from talking to so many women at parties decided to disappear.
nevertheless, gojo thought you were really cute, so much so that he needed a super intelligent plan to get closer to you without asking you outright. class time wasn't cutting it for him anymore, he wanted more.
so, what better way than to invite you over for a 'study sesh' and try to wow you with his other skills? maybe he'd cook you something, that'll surely make you swoon!
he just had to warn satoru that he'd be coming over with a guest..
~
you [7:34 pm]: hey !!
you [7:34 pm]: i'm outside >_0
gojo stares at your message with a big smile on his too-perfect face. your little emoticons always got him giddy, who even used those anymore? you, apparently. and it was adorable.
then, he's knocked out of his daydreamy cloud when he realises you're out there, waiting.
"oh fuck."
he scrambles off his bed like a clumsy idiot towards his full length mirror, he looks at himself in the reflection and toys with his locks until they looked voluminous and wavy, then flexes his muscles as some sort of confidence boost.
with one big deep breath, he stalks towards the front door and opens it with a grin.
you're there, standing so sweetly with your text books in one hand and laptop in the other.
cute.
in a panic, he spurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
"wow, you look... really.. epic?"
what the fuck gojo.
he cringes so bad. of course the first thing he says to you is something a two year old would say to a drawing his friend showed him. god, strike me down now. i deserve it.
“o-oh,” you say, heat creeping up your neck. “thank you.” you tuck your hair behind your ear, very interested in the concrete by your feet. what did that even mean?
he clears his throat and opens the door further for you to walk in. this night was already turning out bad and he hadn't even started cheffing up.
you decide to disregard gojos comment. after all, he was always like that, right? the same goofy guy you'd been sitting with for a year now. nothing weird!
the apartments nice, he's apparently got good taste when it comes to decor. warm browns and reds, like a cool 2000's mum's house. only, when you place your things down on the kitchen bench, you spot some manga and an unopened pack of digimon cards in the shelving on the wall.
wait, was he into that? really? him?
satoru's the picture perfect frat guy. he's attractive, really athletic, you wanna say smart but you haven't seen proof of that just yet, and loud. especially loud.
he's so outwards with his interests and hobbies there's no way he could of possibly hid this from you. he's too much of a blabber mouth.
did he live with someone? did he have a roommate? this was only his off campus apartment after all..
you stare at the geeky little section with a small smile until you're pulled back to reality when he comes up behind you and slips into the head seat of the dining table.
his laptop's already sitting there ready for 'studying', and you sit down in the closest chair. then, he takes another deep breath as he trys and fails miserably to make some more small talk. maybe score another hang out!
"so, you doing anything this weekend?" please say nothing, please say nothing!
you toy with the sleeve of your sweater, "our finals due on monday, so just studying." you reply softly, opening your first textbook up to the index.
"cool, cool." god, how was he gonna save this? he didn't prepare for the conversation aspect of this as much as he'd prepared the house and the ingredients for whatever he was gonna make you.
before he can cook up another grade A conversation starter, you speak for him.
“um,” you start, then stop. your fingers worry at the edge of your sleeve. “this is silly, but… do you like digimon?” you ask curiously, looking up at him as he leans back into his chair. you couldn't help yourself, you had to know.
he's confused first, then follows your line of sight to the self. shit, he thought he told satoru to move his nerdy crap!
he scoffs, then shakes his head. "o-oh, no, that's my brothers. he's into all that pokémon esk shit." he nervously laughs.
brother?...
on cue, who else but satoru walks out of what looks like a bedroom. and holy wow, he's identical to gojo.
your face must show some kind of shock, because he laughs a bit, smiles, winks at you? then he waves.
you gently wave back and beside you, gojo's staring daggers at this man.
"i told you to stay in your room, toru. you're cramping my style."
satoru just rubs his neck and shoots gojo an apologetic, yet mischievous smile, pushing the bridge of his black rimmed glasses up his nose.
"sorry, bro. didn't mean to interrupt you and your girl, just needed water." he laughs.
oh gosh, his laugh was hot.
on instinct, you accidentally blurt out, "i'm uhm... i'm not his girl." then, you slap a hand over your mouth like you were trying to push the words back in.
satoru raised a brow at your adorable hastiness.
"oh, i'm so sorry, sweetheart. didn't mean to assume anything, i just thought since you were here and gojo only really brings girls he's involved with over i-"
"oh my god, shoosh, satoru." gojo groans. you watch as satoru's face relaxes and he once again, rubs his neck.
he's cute, and surprisingly flirty for such a nerdy looking guy...
where gojo would have mounding bulk, satoru had a slimmer, yet still muscular look. gojo was taller, but satoru had his same, beautiful face.
satoru smirks and lazily steps up to the table, “i’m satoru. gojo’s twin. he didn't tell me he had such a cute friend.” he takes your hand into his and kisses the back softly.
your face goes pink as you choke out a, "hi.. i'm [name], it's uh.. super nice to meet you." you gulp, but satorus too busy looking you fondly in the eye to notice.
from beside you, gojo's scoffing at this little interaction. this was supposed to be a you and him thing, not a you him, and his brother thing.
satoru pulls out a chair and sits on the other side of you, deciding it would be rude to just leave you so abruptly after meeting. not because he thought you were the cutest thing since they brought out biyomon plushies, of course not.
“so, you're the one helping this meat head study, huh?”
you nod quickly. “just a bit. i mean, i’m not amazing or anything.” you bashfully smile.
“oh.” satoru smirks, “that’s so, so nice of you.”
gojo clicks his tongue. “don’t sound so shocked.”
“i’m not,” satoru says with a yawn. “i try to help you out all the time and you brush me off, she must be special. are you smart, honey?" he's now talking to you again, watching your eyes so intently it makes your thighs press together.
“she's very smart, so go away." gojo scoffs, grabbing at your wrist to make you face him, not his snarky brother.
you freeze a little at the sudden tension, shoulders drawing in to yourself. you’re not used to being the reason voices get so sharp like this.
gojo leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest. he feels like a poser all of a sudden. his brother with his degrees and his fancy equations and his stupidly suave charm. you with your organised life and perfect mannerisms. and him, who doesn't look the part, but feels like the biggest dork here.
maybe you’d be better off with someone like satoru.
someone who speaks your language. someone who wouldn’t need to beg for help. someone who wouldn’t drag you into his mess just to get your attention because he's too pussy to just ask you out on a proper date. jeez, having a crush sucked.
he clicks his tongue and straightens up, enough with the depressing thoughts, he's better than that, he wanted you, and if satoru was gonna stand in the way, he would just have to prove he's better.
“anyway,” he says, louder than necessary because god forbid you two forget him for more than a minute. “toru here's in astrophysics.”
you look back at satoru, eyes lighting up. “oh wow! really?”
satoru nods,. “yes mam. i’m doing my honours thesis right now, pretty hard stuff...”
“urgh, see?” gojo says, waving a hand at him. “total geek.”
satoru just chuckles, still eyeing you up with his eyes hooded behind those glasses.
you tilt your head, confusion creasing your brow. “wait...”
gojo hums, and you look at him now, not satoru. your voice is still gentle, but there’s curiosity and logic in the undertone.
“if your brothers taking such a high level physics course, why do you need my help?”
yikes. cats outta the bag.
gojo opens his big mouth, but of course, nothing comes out.
his face heats up far too fast, and not in a cool way. not in a smooth way. his ears go red and he rubs the back of his neck hard, suddenly very interested in the grain of the table.
“i mean-" he starts. “it’s not like- god, he’s busy. and it’s not exactly the same material. and i didn’t want to bother him and-"
he looks at you and you're staring up at him with those big, thoughtful eyes, and he sighs. there's no point in lying to you.
he laughs. “okay, yeah. fine.”
satoru looks between the two of you with a smile.
gojo exhales. “i wasn’t desperate. i just-" he shrugs, awkward. “wanted you over, or whatever. i think you're really sweet."
you smile at that, because yeah, you knew, but listening to him ramble made you smile. "you could of just asked to hang out... i would of said yes." you push lightly, and he chokes out a laugh at how suddenly teasing you're being.
"alright then, c'mon." he pushes his chair back and pulls you up too, guiding you towards the kitchen with one strong arm. he gets you infront of the bench then lifts you up, putting you down on the counter with ease. you giggle in shock, but settle as he pats your thigh.
"you're gonna watch me whip up some mean fried rice." he says with a huge grin. "what i really brought you here for, sweets." he has to turn around immediately so you don't see the blush crawling at his cheeks. he bumps into the fridge as he turns like the big guy he is, then apologises to the fridge under his breath, and opens it up to get the ingredients out.
you're really conflicted right now, if you were being honest.
first off, sure, satoru's always been your friend, but you'd assumed he was too out there for your type of personality to mesh with. so, you pushed down whatever romantic feelings begun to blossom the day he started harmlessly teasing you in class because he was that guy, confident and funny, you were just some shy girl in his physics class.
but now, he was pretending to need help just to be in your company? what was the universe playing at?
and to add insult to injury, he's got this secret sexy brother who looks like a slyer, more calculated version of him. was having a crush on two brothers at once a sin or something? if so, you're going to hell.
pulling you out from your thoughts is satoru, who announces from his spot at the dining table, "i'll leave you two too it then." as he stands from his seat. but, just as he's about to head to his room you quickly blurt out a, "wait-" then flush when both of them look at you. “i-i mean… you don’t have to go. if that’s okay.”
"hmm?" he looks over his shoulder at you, smiling like he knew you'd say something to keep him there.
"i- i just... you don’t have to go, right, gojo? do you have enough for three?" you turn back around to look at gojo, you can tell he's about to pout and say no, but when he locks his gaze on yours and you're staring at him with those pleading eyes, he sighs and caves. "of course he can."
satoru grinds then slips onto the stool at the breakfast bar behind you, pulling at the hem of your sweater.
"thanks, sweetheart. you're so kind." he winks.
there's a crack from gojo's direction and you whip around to see he'd accidentally snapped the wooden spoon he was using to stir fry the vegetables.
"oo, someone's antsy."
"shut up, toru."
satoru just chuckles smoothly and leans back in his chair like he owns the place, ankles crossed, eyes flicking between you and gojo with that knowing little curl to his lip.
“so,” he says clicking his teeth. “how’s frat life treating you these days?”
gojo perks up instantly, like a dog who's owner just got home.
“oh, it’s sick,” he says brightly. “the guys are great. loud as hell, but great. we just moved the couch again because suguru kept spilling beer on it and swore it was cursed. friday nights are kinda wild, but sundays we just order dumb amounts of food and pass out watching trash tv.”
he laughs easily, hands moving as he talks. he sounds far more comfortable than he did a minute ago, you loved when he talked about the frat, it was obvious he really loved his friends.
“sounds… lively,” satoru says. his eyes sharpen up just a touch. “and all the girls you bring over? they enjoying the hospitality too?”
... oo, that hit.
gojo stalls, “uh,” he says. “i mean. it's not really like that.”
you look at him, curiously, and he notices immediately.
“i don’t-" he rushes on. “i mean sometimes people come over, sure, but it’s not like a big thing. and it’s not like i’m just dragging random girls back every night or whatever. that’s not really me.”
he laughs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“toru’s understating. like always.”
satoru hums. “am i?”
his eyes flick to you. “i just figured,” he continues, mild, “with his reputation and all, you’d be used to a revolving door.”
gojo swallows. you can tell he hates how that sounds. hates how it might settle with you.
“it’s not like that,” he says again, quieter. “i don’t want you thinking i’m some… i don’t know.. man whore. i don't sleep around with more women than anyone else."
he trails off, glancing at you, then away. the confidence drains right out of him when your attention is on him like this.
before it can stretch too long, he clears his throat and turns to you, desperate for safer ground.
“hey,” he says. “how are you going with finals? you said monday was rough.”
you smile up at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice and the fact he'd remembered such a small detail from the conversation you'd had earlier this week.
“oh gosh..." you sigh. “i'm a bit stressed out, but it's okay. physics is really killing me but i think i’ve got a handle on it all."
“see,” gojo says quickly. “she’s got it.”
satoru smiles.
“i could help you out, [name],” he says.
but it's the way he says it that makes your chest beat faster.
“i’m very good at explaining things,” he adds, eyes on you. “and i have a lot of free time when i’m not buried in my thesis. if you ever needed… extra support.”
gojo spits. “she doesn’t.”
satoru ignores him.
“i mean it,” he says to you. “i’d give you everything you could ever need, all of it.”
you choke on absolutely nothing. the dampness between your thighs is getting worse and worse with each teasing word from satoru and sweet stumble from gojo.
satoru’s mouth perks up, satisfied.
gojo’s neck muscle twitched, he turns back to the stove, stirring the rice with unnecessary force.
“she’s smart,” he says. “she doesn’t need you swooping in like that.”
“i’m not swooping in,” satoru replies. “i’m only offering.”
“yeah, well, stop.”
the rice starts to cook through. gojo doesn’t notice until it crackles, he mutters something under his breath and abandons the pot entirely, stepping over to you instead, wanting to have more of a connection in this now very tense room.
he scans your face, then it seems as if his eyes snag on something because he stands close, like, really close.
“sorry,” he says, suddenly shy again. “your hair’s just.”
he reaches up, hesitates for a second, then gently nudges a strand away from your face. his fingers barely brush your cheek.
“it was in the way,” he adds, stumbling.
you look up at him. his ears are red and his pretty blue eyes won’t stay still. he was adorable, never mind you.
inside his head, he's beating himself up, because he knows how this is supposed to go. he knows how to flirt, how to charm women, how to talk like he knows exactly what he’s doing. he’s done it a hundred times with girls, the difference is, they never look at him like you do. with that understanding smile and kind eyes, no. they stare with lust and passion, they're tarte where you're sweet.
with you, everything's so, so different.
satoru watches this with a very open kinda amusement.
“wow,” he says. “you’re really doing a number on him.”
gojo groans. “shut up.”
“i’ve never seen you like this,” satoru continues. “usually you can’t stop talking. now you’re tripping over yourself.”
you laugh softly.
gojo’s eyes snap back to you.
“i am not,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it.
you reach out absentmindedly, your fingers curling around his hand where it rests on the counter. his skin is warm and solid. he stiffens up then relaxes when you don’t pull away.
“the food smells amazing,” you say. “i can't wait to try it.” under your breath, you mouth, "ignore him." and he smiles at you sweetly.
“y- yeah,” he says. “cool. cool.”
he squeezes your hand without realising he’s doing it and his face feels like it’s on display. he turns away fast, back to the stove, bumping his hip on the counter again.
satoru chuckles.
“careful,” he says. “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
gojo flips him off without looking.
you stay where you are, hand still where he left it, smiling to yourself. this back and forth was something else...
.
when the foods ready, you end up on the couch.
you're wedged between them on the plush leather, their thighs on either side of yours, brushing up on you every time they moved.
south park starts to play on comedy central and you balance your plate carefully, fork hovering as you take a bite.
holy wow, it’s good, better than good.
“hey,” you say, nudging gojo lightly with your elbow. “you did a really nice job, this is good.”
his face lights up and he laughs like the goof he is.
“yeah?” he asks. “i mean, i kinda eyeballed the seasoning, but i figured-"
“it’s really good,” you repeat softer.
he grins, wide and proud, and satoru clicks his tongue.
“easy there,” satoru says. “don’t inflate his ego too much, sweets."
“i’m so serious,” you say. “the rice is perfect.”
satoru peers at his plate, poking at the vegetables. “except,” he adds, “someone was stingy with the broccoli.”
gojo scoffs. “you literally took extra.”
“i did not.”
“watch me genuinely crash out, you took half of mine already!"
satoru leans over you regardless and plucks a head of green from your plate, he takes it to his mouth and eats it, winking at you before he swallows.
gojo makes a very offended noise on your behalf, "oh, come on,” he says. “that’s rude.”
he stabs one of his own pieces of broccoli and reaches up with his other hand. his fingers tilt your chin toward him and he guides the fork to your mouth.
you freeze for a sec, then open up, taking it from him.
“see,” he says. “much better.”
you can feel both of them watching you. satoru’s smile is sly and gojo’s ears are bright red.
they're so close, you can feel their breathing from time to time, their biceps brushing up against your shoulders, gojo's thick thigh hard against yours while satoru's arm snakes around the back of the couch. you couldn't do this anymore, one more second of this sweet torture and you'd end up in a coma.
“hey, uhm... guys? i should probably head home.” you say, twirling a strand of hair through your finger. you'd wanted to stay longer, maybe have a civil talk to one of them instead of this brotherly banter, but the heat between your legs needed tending to and you weren't taking the chance of if they'd give you what you wanted or not.
gojo’s head snaps toward you. “huh? already?” you swear you see his eyes go glassy.
“i'm sorry gojo, it’s just so late,” you say, even though you don’t sound convinced yourself.
"aw man." he sighs, satoru only laughs at his brothers childish gesture.
you pat his thigh softly then stand, an action you didn't know sent heat straight to his cock. you gather your things, trying your best not to stagger from the shake in your legs.
as you're about to say the last of your goodbyes and retreat to the comfort of your dorm, you hear rain. it's heavy, and it's loud.
how perfect.
you peer through the window and the street is soaked. lightning flashes in the sky, thunder rolling in close behind it.
you sigh. “of course.”
gojo’s stumbling up himself, grabbing the keys to his car. “i can drive you!"
another crack of thunder cuts him off and the rain comes down much harder.
satoru laughs softly. “yeah, that’s not happening.”
you hesitate, fingers tightening around your bag strap.
“you can stay,” gojo says quickly. “i mean, i can pull out a mattress. you can take my bed. i’ll sleep on the floor! it’s fine.”
“or,” satoru says, stepping closer, “you could come stay in my bed.”
he takes your hand before you realise he’s doing it, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“my bed’s bigger,” he adds. “and i’d be happy to share with you, honey.”
your words tangle. “i- i don’t-"
gojo grabs your other wrist, not hard, just gently. “no! stay with me,” he says. “you’re comfortable with me.”
satoru tilts his head. “oh c'mon, could help her study.”
“don’t,” gojo snaps.
“keep you up all night,” satoru continues in your ear now, voice dropping. “i’d teach you everything you wanted to know, sweet girl... and i can tell there's a lot you want to learn."
gojo shakes his head, flustered. “no! no. come with me, we could play games, uno, snakes and ladders. whatever you want, [name].”
gojo usually thrived off of competition, but with his own brother? for a girl he'd been crushing on for months? no thanks.
satoru was eating this up, his cock twitched and pulsed with each small noise that slipped from your mouth. he could tell you needed tending to, he had a good eye. and he was gonna use that to piss off his brother to the best of his ability.
you’re stuck between them, being pulled in two directions. your pulse is loud in your ears. both of them are talking, offering, trying.
then, satoru leans down to whisper one final offer in your ear, he'd spotted the way your thighs were clenched and decided to capitalise on the opportunity.
“i’ll treat you real good if you come sleep with me, baby,” he murmus. “let me make you feel good.”
that’s it.
gojo's pulls you back, shoving satoru away from you with a sharp push.
“what the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps. “don't be so vulgar, she's not used to it.”
satoru laughs, unbothered. “c'mon, relax.”
“and don’t touch her like that,” gojo continues. “you just met her, for gods sake. i’ve known her for ages.”
“oh yeah? and look how far that got you,” satoru shoots back. “you’re too busy tripping over yourself to realise what she really needs.”
“shut up.”
“you don’t get how her brain works,” satoru says calmly. “she needs someone smart enough to keep up.”
your chest tightens. “hey.”
neither of them listens.
“you think cooking rice makes you impressive?” satoru adds. “she deserves more than that.”
"you don’t know what she needs! she'd be better off with a guy whose egos bigger than his dick."
"and you're any better? i bet you couldn't satisfy a girl like her even if you tried. all those sorority hoes have your head inflated."
"you better watch your fucking mouth-"
before gojo flips out, you step forward, placing yourself squarely between them.
they stop.
you look between them, sensing both anger and lust in their eyes.
“i-" you swallow, then steady yourself. “if you’re both going to argue… then maybe you should both stop deciding for me.”
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