the first time you kissed shoko ieiri, you were staying over at her dorm after a party. you were both a drunk, giggling mess, wiping make up off each other’s faces in her obscenely small bathroom. you’re not sure how or why it happened, it just did. because it felt right.
it always felt right with shoko. every kiss, every breath against your heated skin, every sweet word in your ear.
none of those things ever left the confines of your dorms, though. you didn’t have an explanation for this, why neither of you would reach for each other’s hand in public, why at every party, you’d have to make it look like a pure coincidence both of you had to use the restroom, or suddenly be sleepy at the same time to leave.
it didn’t matter as long as it felt good when you were with her, even if it meant you couldn’t kiss her in the sunshine, but only cloaked in the moonlight.
the day before you graduated college, she took you to the beach. it was cloudy and windy, the ocean freezing between your toes. you wrote your initials in the wet sand on the shore, like some lovesick teenager, and watched as a wave wiped away half of the wonky finger-drawn heart, along with your name.
you never saw her again after graduation. no texts, no phone calls, shoko never posted on her social media accounts— and she soon became a ghost, buried along that part of yourself only she had ever been allowed to see.
it took some time, but life eventually forced you to move on. and that’s when he came— stable, kind, the promise of stability, the white picket fence life you were expected to want. everything that came after that happened so fast you were suddenly walking down the aisle in a white gown.
with a bouquet of wildflowers clutched between your hands, you spotted violets, and halted in your steps. violets— her favorite flower.
all those years of missing her suddenly dawned on you, and you didn’t think twice about turning on your heel and leave. the horrified gasps of guests didn’t reach your ears, the yelling, the shame they attempted to chain you down with.
you’d had enough of that.
so you stopped the first taxi on the street, bunched your gown in the backseat and told him to drive off. you knew exactly where you wanted to go.
the sun was high in the sky, shining down on the crystalline waves, the sand warm underneath your feet, heels held in one hand, a corner of your voluminous skirt in the other. there weren’t many people, but you did not care for their stares, not when your eyes when locked on the figure sitting by the shore.
you didn’t say anything when you sat down beside shoko, and neither did she. her hair was longer, her eyes more tired, but your heart still leapt in your chest when she turned to look at you. the first real reaction it’d had in years.
she smiled at you, soft and understanding, but never surprised— like she’d been waiting, and she knew you would’ve come back some day. when your fingers traveled across the golden grains to meet hers, she didn’t pull back, resting her hand on top of yours instead.
and promised to never hide again.
┊┊a/n. you might be thinking "what the fuck is wrong with you!?" and the answer is that i don't know either. please don't throw tomatoes at me
you could hear sukuna stumbling through your apartment, bumping into your coffee table before dramatically collapsing onto your couch, letting the cushions envelop him while he nuzzled into the pillows.
“sukuna…? it’s 1am what the fuck are you doing out here?”
“i missed you, sweetheart.” he slurred out, reaching out to your form and missing by a mile before falling face first into your couch again.
“good god you’re wasted.”
“m nottt—.”
“let’s get you to bed, yeah?”
“nooo.” he was whining with his face in the cushions now, slowly lifting himself up, his eyes glossed over and his lips jutted in a pout while he stared at you.
“come on, big guy.” you said, walking towards him while he swayed a little trying to get himself up.
“that’s not my name.”
you moved close to him, slowly running your fingers though his hair—right before he dragged you onto the couch, crushing your head in his chest while he pressed wet kisses against your cheek.
“kuna ew you reek of alcohol!”
“gods, why do you put up with me?” he hushed out, nuzzling his face into your chest, mumbling against your shirt.
“w—what?” you sputtered out, slowly patting his back while he sniffled against you—because sukuna ryomen was always tougher than this.
rough around the edges, always stoic, it was strange to see him all teary eyed and needy in your grasp, planting sloppy kisses against your neck while he slurred about how perfect you were.
“t’ good for me y’know..”
“oh? what’s this about, kuna?”
“you’re soo pretty and perfect and fuck i really don’t deserve you.”
drunk minds speak sober thoughts, right? you were giggling to yourself, because it was ridiculous—ryomen sukuna was everything you wanted in a person, serious, smart and with wits that knew no end, what was there not to love?
“oh ryo…”
“don’t say—anything.”
“i won’t, ryo.” you cooed, the nickname practically melting him into a puddle while he settled his cheek on your chest sniffling away while you ran your fingers through his blush coloured hair.
“i love you, kuna:
“i—love you too.” he slurred, tripping over his own words before collapsing on you like a dead fish, holding you down underneath his warmth with his nose buried in the crook of your neck.
that was the first time sukuna had it in him to ever say he loved a person—it wouldn’t be the last, but if a couple of shots are what had him stumbling straight to your arms, you would’ve gotten him drunk ages ago.
you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, still toying with his hair while he snored softly atop you, mumbling something about how he had to thank whatever force was up there that got him to you. and it was clear as day, frat president sukuna ryomen was just a sappy, pathetic loser.
i lowk forgot how to write bro. but we’re so close to another milestone i’m so freaking hyped ily guys and trust me i’m cookin
꒰ 𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🌷.ᐟ Satoru Gojo is the loudest, prettiest boy on campus — and secretly the biggest nerd you've ever met. You make a list of twenty ways to make him yours. It works better than expected. ꒱
ᘛ ꒰ satoru gojo x reader | university au | fluff, crack-ish, mutual pining, 3.4k wc. no real warning, this is pure fluff. art by @/to00fu dividers by @uzmacchiato and @pixopix ྀིა
Gojo Satoru did not look like a nerd. That was the first thing you had to get past.
He was six-foot-three, white hair that looked like he'd bleached it out of spite, and a jawline that made underclassmen forget how to walk in straight lines. So the first time you sat next to him in Intro to Theoretical Physics and watched him correct the TA's derivation on the whiteboard— politely, cheerfully, in a way that made the TA visibly reconsider their choice of career— you assumed it was a fluke. A pretty boy who got lucky on one problem set.
It was not a fluke. It happened every single week.
By week four you knew: underneath the sunglasses he wore indoors "for the bit," underneath the easy charm and the way he called everyone "sweetheart" like it cost him nothing, Gojo was the single biggest nerd you had ever met in your life. He annotated his textbooks in four colors. He had a ranked opinion on which university library floor had the best "ambient silence." He once spent twenty minutes explaining the Fermi paradox to a girl at a party who had asked him, literally, where the bathroom was.
And somehow, against every instinct you had about self-preservation, you'd fallen for him anyway.
The problem was that Gojo Satoru was completely, catastrophically oblivious to the fact that you liked him. Not because he was dumb— the man had a 4.0 and could recite pi to sixty digits when he was nervous— but because emotional self-awareness was, apparently, the one subject he'd never taken.
So you did what any reasonable person would do. You made a list.
Not a real list, not at first— just something you texted your roommate at 1 a.m. after he'd walked you back to your dorm and then said "anyway, goodnight, study buddy!" like a golden retriever who'd just learned the word "goodnight." But it grew. Item by item, week by week, you built yourself a plan. A syllabus, if you wanted to be annoying about it. A plan for how to make a nerd— your nerd, if you had anything to say about it– fall for you back.
Here's what the list looked like, three weeks later, mostly executed and slightly out of order:
1. Ask him to explain something you already understand
Not because you need it explained. Because Gojo lights up like a Christmas tree the second someone asks him a real question, and there is nothing in this world cuter than a six-foot-three man drawing a diagram of quantum entanglement on a napkin at 9 p.m. because you asked "wait, but how does that actually work?" He'll talk for eleven minutes straight. You will not understand half of it. You will not care.
2. Bring him coffee exactly the way he takes it, without asking.
Oat milk, two sugars, and— this is important— he needs it slightly too hot, because he likes complaining that it burned his tongue and then drinking it anyway. The first time you showed up to your study session with his order memorized, he stared at the cup for a solid five seconds like you'd handed him a diamond instead of a four-dollar latte.
"You remembered," he said, and for once he didn't sound like he was performing anything.
"It's not that hard, Satoru."
"No," he agreed, still staring at the cup. "I guess it's not."
3. Steal his hoodie and never give it back.
This one is less a strategy and more just theft, but the effect is the same. You took it during a group project when the library air conditioning decided finals week was a personal vendetta, and you simply forgot to return it. He noticed. He did not ask for it back. He instead started "accidentally" leaving other sweaters at your dorm, like he was building a small collection of hostages in reverse.
4. Beat him at something. Anything.
Gojo has never lost gracefully in his life. He is aggressively, hilariously competitive about things that do not matter, like Mario Kart, or who can name more moons of Saturn, or whose flashcards are better organized. Beat him once— just once— and watch a switch flip behind his eyes. He will demand a rematch. He will demand several rematches. He will, three rematches later, forget that he is supposed to be trying to win and just start trying to make you laugh instead.
5. Notice the thing he's insecure about, and don't make a big deal of it.
Underneath the confidence, Gojo has Opinions about his own eyes— the pale blue, the way people stare, the way strangers sometimes ask invasive questions like he's a museum exhibit. You noticed early that the sunglasses weren't entirely a bit. So you never once commented on his eyes unless it was in passing, the same way you'd mention someone's nice handwriting. Ordinary. Unremarkable. Just a fact about him, not a headline.
He clocked that you'd clocked it. He didn't say anything. But he started taking the glasses off around you more.
6. Let him info-dump. Then remember what he said.
Two weeks after the Fermi paradox incident, you asked him— out of nowhere, mid-lecture— "okay but statistically, if the paradox holds, doesn't that actually support the idea that we're early, not alone?" He turned to look at you like you'd grown a second head. A good second head.
"You remembered that?"
"You explained it for twenty minutes to a stranger looking for the bathroom. Of course I remembered."
7. Make him carry something heavy for you.
Not because you need the help. Because there is a specific, devastating satisfaction in watching Gojo Satoru— who could probably bench-press the entire physics department— insist on carrying your grocery bags, your laundry basket, your six textbooks, all at once, while pretending it's nothing, while very obviously flexing about it.
8. Show up to his study group uninvited and stay anyway.
He runs a Tuesday night study group that is, allegedly, "for anyone who wants to come," but somehow the same three terrified freshmen show up every week and leave within the hour because Gojo cannot resist turning every session into a TED talk. You started showing up too. You did not leave within the hour. By the third week, he'd started saving you a seat next to him without being asked— the one by the outlet, because he'd noticed your laptop charger was fraying.
9. Text him something dumb at 2 a.m. and let him overthink his reply.
You know this one works because your roommate is somehow also friends with his roommate, and the intel came back within the hour: Gojo spent eleven minutes composing a response to your "ok but if a vending machine gains sentience is it a philosophical zombie or just annoying" text. Eleven minutes. For a joke. He sent back four different drafts before landing on one, and it was still unhinged.
10. Compliment his handwriting, not his face
He gets told he's hot approximately nine times a day, by everyone, including strangers on the bus. It means nothing to him anymore— it's just weather. But tell him his lecture notes are genuinely, freakishly beautiful— every equation boxed, every margin annotated in four colors like he's illuminating a medieval manuscript— and watch him go quiet in a way he never does when someone calls him pretty.
11. Let him see you fail at something.
Gojo doesn't actually want a girl who has it together 100% of the time— he wants someone real, though it took you a while to realize that. The night you completely bombed a presentation and cried a little in the stairwell after, he didn't try to fix it or hype you up with empty noise. He just sat down on the concrete step next to you in his very expensive jeans and said, "okay, worst professor you've ever had, go," and let you complain until you'd laughed the tears away.
12. Ask about his family. Actually listen.
He deflects hard whenever anyone brings up the Gojo name, the money, the expectations. Most people either fawn over it or pretend it doesn't exist. You did neither— you just asked, once, gently, "is it heavy? Carrying all that?" and let the silence sit instead of filling it. He didn't answer for a full minute. Then he told you more than he'd told anyone all semester. He told you about his twin.
13. Give him a nickname that isn't about how he looks.
Everyone calls him "Six Eyes" as some ironic school-wide joke about how much he supposedly sees. You started calling him "Professor" instead, low and teasing, every time he got insufferable about a fact nobody asked for. He complained about it constantly. He also, notably, never asked you to stop.
14. Show up to his dumb extracurricular thing
He's in the university's astronomy club, which meets on the roof of the science building at ungodly hours to look at things you cannot see because of light pollution. You went once, mostly out of curiosity, and ended up going every month after, wrapped in his stolen hoodie (see: item 3), while he pointed at smudges in the sky and insisted, with total conviction, that one of them was definitely Saturn.
"That's a plane, Satoru."
"It's Saturn, and I won't be taking questions."
15. Get jealous. Badly. On purpose.
You are not proud of this one, but it worked, so it's staying on the list. A guy from your seminar started sitting suspiciously close to you during group work, and Gojo— usually the most chill, unbothered person alive— suddenly developed a burning need to sit in on your seminar "for fun." He is not enrolled in your seminar. He does not need to be there. He was there anyway, arms crossed, radiating an aura your professor mistook for academic passion.
16. Take care of him when he forgets to take care of himself.
For someone so smart, Gojo is disastrous at remembering to eat during midterms. You started leaving snacks in his backpack without telling him— protein bars, the specific brand of gum he chews when he's anxious, a note sometimes. He never mentioned it directly. He just started leaving you snacks back, an unspoken little economy of care neither of you would put a name to yet.
17. Let him walk you home even when you don't need it.
It's fifteen minutes out of his way. He does it every time anyway, sunglasses off, hands in his pockets, talking the entire walk about nothing and everything, and you've started timing your goodnights to be a little longer than they need to be.
18. Catch him staring, and don't look away first.
It happened in the library, over a stack of shared notes— you looked up and he was already looking, not at your notes, at you, and for once in his entire dramatic life he didn't have a single word ready. You didn't look away. Neither did he. Somebody's highlighter rolled off the table and neither of you moved to catch it.
19. Tell him, out loud, that you like the nerd version of him best.
Not the flirt. Not the golden retriever performing for a crowd. The version that gets quiet and intense over a whiteboard, that memorizes the digits of pi when he's anxious, that lit up over a napkin diagram because someone finally asked him a real question. You told him this on the roof, under his fake Saturn, and he went so still you thought you'd broken him.
20. Kiss him first.
Because he will never, ever make the first move— not out of fear, but because some small, stupid, sincere part of him doesn't believe someone like you would actually want someone like him, underneath all the noise. So you have to be the one. You kiss him on the roof, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, his ridiculous fake constellation still glowing faintly behind him, and he makes a sound against your mouth like every ounce of composure he's ever performed just short-circuited at once.
When you pull back he's staring at you the way he stares at a problem he's finally solved— stunned, delighted, a little smug that he got there at all.
"Say something smart, Professor," you tell him, breathless.
"Give me a second," he says. "You broke my working memory."
ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰fingering ⋮⋮ oral (reader & satoru rec.) ⋮⋮ p slapping! ⋮⋮ pet names heavy! ⋮⋮ cum in mouth ⋮⋮ cum play ⋮⋮ both at the same time ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ dp ⋮⋮ tummy bulges ⋮⋮ c-pied꒱
You’re sprawled across Eren’s lap like always, legs dangling off the arm of the couch, head tucked under Satoru’s chin while he scrolls aimlessly on his phone. The three of you have been tangled like this for hours, while some dumb action movie flickers on the TV that none of you are really watching.
It’s the kind of Friday night that’s happened a hundred times before: snacks scattered, blanket fortress half-built, your body slotted perfectly between theirs like you were custom-made to fit the negative space they create when they sit too close.
Eren’s thumb keeps brushing slow, absent circles over the bare skin of your thigh where your oversized hoodie rode up and you're only wearing panties underneath. Satoru’s fingers are threaded loosely through your hair, tugging just enough to feel possessive without ever admitting it. They’re warm. They’re always warm.
And you’re so used to it, the casual touching, the way they both smell faintly of cedar and whatever cologne they stole from each other, that you never question how heavy their breathing gets when you shift and your ass presses back against Eren’s hips.
You yawn, stretch like a cat, and announce it without thinking.
“I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”
The room doesn’t freeze. Not exactly.
But the lazy thumb on your thigh stops dead. Toru’s fingers pause mid-scratch against your scalp. The only sound left is the muffled explosions from the television and the sudden harsh rhythm of Eren’s exhale through his nose.
“A date,” Eren repeats. Flat. Like he’s tasting something bitter.
“Yeah,” you hum, oblivious, scrolling through your phone now. “This guy from chem. He’s cute. Kinda tall. Said he’d take me to that new ramen place downtown.”
Toru’s voice comes quieter than usual. Almost gentle. “Tomorrow.”
“Mhm.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, smiling all sweet and glassy-eyed like you always do when you’re happy. “Why? You guys wanna come third-wheel? I can ask if he’s cool with it.”
Eren laughs, but it’s wrong. Sharp, with no humor in it at all.
He shifts under you suddenly, strong hands clamping around your hips, keeping you pinned right where you are. You squeak in surprise, thighs squeezing together on instinct.
“No,” he says. Low and dangerous. “We don’t wanna third-wheel, princess.”
Toru’s hand slides from your hair down to your throat…not choking, just… holding. Collarbone to jaw. His thumb brushing the soft skin under your chin so you have to look at him.
“You’re not going,” he murmurs.
You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Huh?”
“You’re not going on a date,” Eren cuts in, voice rougher now, hips rolling up just enough that you feel exactly how hard he is. Not subtle. Not pretending anymore. The thick outline of him presses insistently against your ass through thin layers of fabric. “Not with him. Not with anyone.”
Your breath catches. You’re still trying to process, still trying to stay in that sweet, fuzzy headspace where they’re just your overprotective best friends so when Toru leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth soft, teasing and barely there, you're a bit stunned to say the least.
But Eren doesn’t tease.
He grabs your chin, turns your face towards him, and kisses you like he’s been starving for it. Deep and messy, his tongue sliding against yours before you can even gasp. One hand fists in your hair while the other slips under the hoodie, rough palm skating up your bare stomach until he’s cupping your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple like he’s done it a thousand times in his head, he grabs it and balls up the fabric in his palm and tugs it off you, throwing it behind the couch without care.
When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard. Your lips are swollen. His eyes are dilated, black eating the emerald green.
“We’ve been good,” he rasps. “So fucking good. Letting you prance around in those tiny shorts, letting you sleep between us, letting you rub that pretty little body all over us every night like it’s nothing. But a date?” He laughs again low and bitter. “Nah, baby. That shit ends tonight.”
Toru’s mouth finds your neck. Open-mouthed, he sucks a bruise right under your jaw while his hand slides between your thighs, not touching your pussy yet, just cupping you over your panties, letting you feel the heat of his palm.
“You’ve been so sweet to us,” Toru whispers against your skin. “Letting us hold you. Letting us get hard and pretend it’s an accident. But we’re done pretending, baby.”
Eren’s fingers pinch your nipple harder and you whimper embarrassingly which makes them both look at each other in unison and smirk.
“We both think about this cunt every single night,” he growls. “Every time you fall asleep between us, we’re rock fucking hard imagining how tight you’d feel. How wet you are, how you’d cry our names when we finally stretch you open.”
Toru hums in agreement, middle finger pressing just enough against your clit through the cotton that your hips jerk.
“You’re ours,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s always been obvious. “Always have been. You just didn’t know we were waiting for permission to take what’s ours.”
Eren leans in again, lips brushing yours.
“Tell us you want it,” he murmurs. “Tell us you want both of us. Or we stop right now… and you can go on your little date tomorrow like a good girl.”
His thumb brushes your bottom lip.
“But if you do…” He smiles slowly, a feral glint in his eyes,"We're not letting you leave this couch until your pussy’s so full of us you can’t even think about another man’s name.”
Your thighs tremble.
Your heart hammers, you aren't entirely sure if the imagery Eren’s just conjured up is what has your body on fire and mind in disarray with boiling want. Do you really want them both at the same time, your best friends…were you always this naive about them or did you just realise that you want them too.. God, yes you fucking do.
And between them now, with their warmth, dicks hard and unyielding tension, you feel something inside you finally give in.
Soft and sweet and a little dumb with want.
“…please,” you whisper.
Eren groans like you just handed him the keys to heaven.
Toru smiles against your throat.
“Good girl.”
You’re still trembling from the way they pinned you down, Eren’s mouth bruising yours, Satoru’s teeth grazing your throat and when Toru shifts, sitting up straighter on the couch. His hoodie is rucked up just enough to show the sharp cut of his hips, the light trail of hair disappearing into gray sweats that are doing nothing to hide how fucking thick he is.
“Baby,” he says, voice all soft velvet now, “need your mouth.”
Your eyes drop automatically. His hand catches yours, guides it down slow until your palm presses flat over the obscene bulge. Even through the fabric you can feel the heat, the heavy throb. He’s so hard it looks painful, long, thick and curving up toward his stomach like it’s begging.
“See, baby? m’hard for you,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your knuckles while he makes you feel every inch. “Been like this every night you sleep between us. Couldn’t help it. Your little ass grinding back, those tiny whimpers you make in your sleep… fuck.”
You swallow. Your mouth feels too wet, too empty.
He tugs the waistband of his sweats down just enough. No underwear.. you think thats gross but also fucking hot ugh. Just him and his fat, flushed cock, the tip already slick and shiny with precum that beads at the slit and drips slow down the underside. It twitches when the cool air hits it. So pretty. So stupidly big. The kind of cock that makes your thighs clench on instinct.
You’re sweet about it. Always sweet. You lean forward without being told twice, pressing the softest, open-mouthed kiss right to the fat head. Your lips brush the sticky tip and he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking like he can’t help it.
“Good girl,” Toru breathes. One hand cups the back of your head, not pushing, just holding. “Just like that. Kiss it again. Taste me, pretty please.”
You do. Another slow, filthy kiss. Then another. Letting your tongue flick out to lap at the precum, salty and warm. He groans low in his throat.
“Open up, baby. Gonna teach you exactly how I like it.”
You part your lips. He guides himself in slowly, inch by thick inch, until the head sits heavy on your tongue. Your eyes water instantly at the stretch, but you don’t pull back. You just look up at him with those big, glassy eyes while he starts telling you what he wants.
“Suck the tip first.. yeah aaaah- just like that. Swirl your pretty tongue around it. Fuck… goodness baby. Now take a little more. Relax your throat for me, sweet thing. Breathe through your nose.”
You try. You really try. He’s so big it makes your jaw ache already, but the way he’s looking at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen makes you want to take all of him. You hollow your cheeks, suck soft, letting your tongue drag along the thick vein underneath.
Behind you, Eren’s been patient. Too patient.
His hands find the backs of your thighs, prying them apart until you’re spread wide across his lap. Cool air hits your soaked panties and you whimper around Toru’s cock.
“Come on, baby girl,” Eren growls against the shell of your ear. “Won’t you let me see this pretty pussy? Been dying to look at it properly.”
His fingers hook into the crotch of your panties, tugging them to the side. You’re dripping. Embarrassingly so, strings of slick connecting your folds to the fabric when he pulls it away and he groans like he’s in pain.
“Fuck. Look at her, Toru. She’s fucking soaked.”
Toru’s hips stutter forward, pushing a little deeper into your mouth at the sight. You gag softly but keep going, drool's already slipping down your chin.
Eren’s fingers slide through your folds slowly with deliberate care, coating themselves in your wetness before he finds your clit. Cute little swollen thing, peeking out and begging. He rubs it in tight, mean circles with his thumb while two fingers tease your entrance, not pushing in yet. Just circling. Spreading you open.
“So wet for us,” he mutters. “This little cunt’s been waiting, huh? Knew you needed both of us stretching you out.”
You moan around Toru’s cock, the vibrations making him curse under his breath. Your hips buck forward into Eren’s hand without thinking, chasing the pressure on your clit.
Toru’s grip tightens in your hair. “That’s it, baby. Keep sucking. Gonna fuck your mouth slow while Eren plays with this perfect pussy. You’re doing so good for us.”
Eren slips one finger inside you, then another immediately, curling them just right while his thumb keeps working your clit in relentless little strokes. You’re shaking now, thighs trembling, drool dripping down Toru’s cock as you try to take him deeper.
Eren hooks his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties now, tugging them down with slow, patient care, down the swell of you ass and the crotch is soaked, from his spit and your sticky slick. Once he gets it off he presses an open mouthed kiss to your pretty cunt, his mouth fully englufing you with no barrier stopping him anymore.
They’ve got you right where they want you, split open between them, mouth full, cunt dripping, completely theirs.
And they’re only just getting started.
Toru’s grip in your hair turns firmer but not cruel, just enough to remind you who’s in control. He rocks his hips up slow, feeding you another thick inch until the head bumps the back of your throat and your eyes water instantly. You gag around him, soft and wet, helpless little sound that makes his abs flex and his breath hitch.
“Fuck, baby… that’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Gag on it. Let me feel that tight little throat squeeze me. You’re so sweet when you try to take it all.”
Tears prick your lashes. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, slicking down his shaft, dripping onto your chin and the couch beneath. You’re messy for him, always so eager to please and he loves it. Loves the way your tongue still tries to swirl even when you’re struggling, the way your cheeks hollow every time he pulls back just to push in again.
Behind you, Eren’s done playing nice.
He’s got your thighs shoved wide, knees hooked over his shoulders now so your ass is lifted just enough for him to bury his face where he’s been dying to be. Rough hands spread your cunt open, his fingers digging into soft, slick flesh, holding you apart like he’s displaying you. You’re so wet it’s obscene: glistening folds, clit swollen and throbbing, strings of arousal clinging to his fingers when he pulls them away.
“Look at this sloppy little pussy,” he mutters against your inner thigh, hot breath fanning over your core. “Dripping all over my hand just from sucking him off. You love being used like this, don’t you?”
Before you can even whimper around Toru’s cock, Eren slaps your pussy, a sharp, wet smack that makes your whole body jolt. The sting blooms fast into heat, clit pulsing harder. You cry out muffled around the thick length filling your mouth.
Eren does it again. Harder. The sound is filthy, each wet smacks echoing in the quiet room. Your hips buck uselessly, cunt clenching around nothing.
“Sensitive already?” he taunts, voice low and mean. Then he spits, right on your clit, a thick glob of saliva landing perfectly, sliding down your folds. He watches it drip with dark eyes before leaning in and dragging his tongue flat from your entrance to your clit in one long, slow stripe.
You sob around Toru. The vibration makes him curse and thrust deeper, holding you there until your nose brushes his pelvis and you’re choking sweetly, and tears streaming.
Eren eats you like he’s starving. Tongue flicking fast over your clit, then sucking it between his lips with hard pulls that make your thighs shake. He alternates: sloppy open-mouthed kisses to your folds, tongue dipping inside to fuck you shallow, then back to circling that needy little bud. Every time you get close, your hips grinding and muffled moans turning desperate, he pulls back. Just enough.
Edging and Torturing you… keeping you right on the brink.
“Uh-uh,” he growls when your cunt flutters, so close you can taste it. Another slap, lighter this time, but it still makes you yelp around Toru’s cock. “Not yet, baby girl. You don’t come until we say.”
Toru’s breathing is ragged now, hips stuttering as he fucks your throat in shallow thrusts. “She’s gonna make me come if she keeps moaning like that,” he warns Eren, but there’s no real complaint in it, just raw need. “Fuck… her mouth’s so warm. So fucking wet.”
Eren hums against your clit, the vibration ripping another choked sound from you. He spits again messily then sucks your clit back into his mouth while two fingers slide inside, curling against that spot that makes your eyes roll back.
You’re shaking. Drooling. Gagging sweetly every time Toru bottoms out. Cunt clenching around Eren’s fingers while he edges you mercilessly with every lick, suck, slap, spit, repeat.
They’ve got you trapped between them, mouth stuffed full, pussy spread and devoured, body trembling on the edge of something massive.
Toru’s thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, almost tenderly and he slips his cock out of from your mouth and taps the tip of his cock to your lips as you catch your breath, smearing bubbly saliva and pre over your lips messily.
“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Taking us both so pretty.”
Eren pulls back just long enough to murmur against your dripping folds:
“Gonna let you come soon, baby… but only when you’re choking on his load and begging for mine.”
Your whole body clenches at the promise.
They’re not stopping.
Not until you’re ruined for anyone else.
Eren pulls back from your dripping cunt with a wet, obscene sound, his lips shiny, chin slick with you. He’s breathing hard, eyes dark and blown out like he’s high off the taste. Without a word he shifts, lying flat on his back along the couch, one arm hooked behind his head while the other reaches for your hip.
“Come on, baby,” he rasps, voice rough from all the growling and licking. “Sit on my face. Need this pretty pussy grinding on my tongue right fucking now.”
You’re still dazed, mouth swollen from Toru, thighs shaking from the edging, but the command cuts through the fog. You crawl forward on shaky knees, straddling his head. He doesn’t wait for you to settle. Big hands clamp around your hips and yank you down hard until your soaked cunt is pressed flush to his mouth.
The first swipe of his tongue is filthy, long and flat dragging from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, vibrations ripping a broken moan from your throat. Then he’s eating you messy: lips sucking at your folds, tongue fucking inside shallow and greedy, nose bumping your clit with every tilt of his head. He’s loud about it slurping, sucking and growling against your core like he’s trying to drink you dry.
Your hands scramble for purchase, fingers digging into the back of the couch as your hips rock instinctively, grinding down on his face. He loves it. Encourages it with bruising grips, guiding you to ride his tongue harder and faster.
Toru’s been watching the whole time, stroking himself slow and lazy while you gagged on him earlier. Now he stands up beside the couch, his sweats shoved down to his thighs, cock flushed dark and glistening from your spit. He steps closer, one hand fisting the base while the other cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him.
“Open up again, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Gonna fuck this pretty mouth while he eats you out.”
You part your lips on instinct, still so sweet, so pliant and he slides back in. Not gentle this time. He pushes deep right away, hitting the back of your throat until your eyes water fresh and you gag around him, sloppy and wet. Drool spills immediately, running down your chin, dripping onto Eren’s chest below you.
Toru starts thrusting in, slow at first, letting you adjust, then deeper, harder. One hand tangles in your hair to hold you steady while the other braces on the back of the couch. “That’s it… throat me like a good girl. Fuck, look at you nmgh taking it so sloppy, making such aaah mess.”
Every time he bottoms out you choke. Sweet, wet gurgles that make Eren groan louder into your cunt. The sound vibrates straight through your clit and you buck harder against his face, smearing yourself all over his mouth, his nose, his chin. He doesn’t care. He just spreads you wider with his thumbs, tongue flicking fast over your clit before sucking it between his lips again, relentlessly.
His own hand slips down, his fingers wrapping around his neglected cock, stroking himself in rough, tight pulls while he devours you. The wet schlick of his fist mixes with the filthy sounds of his mouth on your pussy and Toru’s dick sliding in and out of your throat.
You’re caught perfectly between them: hips grinding desperate on Eren’s tongue, throat stuffed full of Toru’s thick length, drool and slick everywhere. Your moans are muffled and broken, vibrating around him every time Eren licks that perfect spot inside you with his tongue.
Toru’s hips stutter, breath hitching. “Fuck… gonna cum soon if you keep choking on me like that, baby.”
Eren pulls back just enough to growl against your folds, words muffled but clear. “Not yet. She comes first. Then we both fill her up.”
He dives back in, sucking your clit hard, tongue flicking merciless while his fingers dig into your ass, spreading you even wider so he can bury his face deeper.
You’re trembling, thighs quaking, so close it hurts.
Toru fucks your mouth faster. Shallow, sloppy thrusts that make spit drip down onto Eren’s abs.
Eren strokes himself harder, hips bucking up into his fist like he can’t help it.
They’ve got you right there teetering, dripping, stuffed full and theirs.
Just a little more.
And you’re going to shatter.
It hits you like a wave you can’t outrun.
Eren’s tongue is relentlessly sucking your clit in hard, pulsing pulls while his fingers dig into your hips, holding you down so you can’t escape even if you wanted to. Your thighs lock around his head, whole body seizing as the pressure snaps. You cum hard shaking. Cries muffled around Toru’s cock, hips grinding down messy and desperate onto Eren’s face. Slick floods his mouth; he drinks it up greedily, groaning deep vibrations straight into your core that drag the orgasm out longer, sharper, until you’re sobbing with it.
Your cunt pulses around nothing, clenching on air, dripping down his chin, his neck. He doesn’t stop licking, not even when you’re twitching and oversensitive. Just softer laps now, soothing the raw edges while you shudder through the aftershocks.
Toru’s been fucking your throat steady, but the way you choke and moan around him when you come tips him over. He pulls back suddenly. Only the fat, swollen tip still resting on your tongue and strokes himself faster and rough.
“Fuck ngh open wide, baby,” he pants. “Gonna, fuck- give it to you.”
You do. Tongue out, lips parted, eyes glassy and teary from everything staring up at him. He groans low, hips jerking, and comes thick, rope after hot, heavy rope painting your tongue white. It’s so much it spills a little at the corners of your mouth before you can catch it all. Warm and salty, thick enough that it clings n pools heavy in the center of your tongue.
He milks the last drops out with slow strokes, smearing the tip across your lips like he’s marking you.
“Don’t swallow it yet, pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and soft all at once. “Need to see it first.”
You stay like that, kneeling between them, thighs still trembling from Eren’s mouth, mouth full of Toru’s load. Eren finally eases you up just enough to sit back against the couch arm, pulling you half into his lap so you’re still facing Toru. His hands slide up your sides, possessively, while he watches with dark emerald, hungry eyes.
Toru steps closer. Cups your jaw gently but firm, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where a little escaped.
“Show me,” he says.
You part your lips slowly, careful not to let any spill. Your tongue coated, its thick, pearlescent-white, his cum sitting heavy and pooling in the middle, strings of it connecting to the roof of your mouth when you part wider. It’s obscene. Beautifully yours.
Toru exhales shaky. “Fuck… look at that. All for us.”
He reaches in, two long fingers sliding past your lips, pressing into the warm pool of his own release. He stirs it lazy, coating his fingertips, feeling how thick and sticky it is while you whimper softly around the intrusion. Your eyes flutter, lashes wet.
Then he pulls his fingers out, glistening, dripping, and brings them straight to his own mouth. Sucks them clean and slow, tongue swirling around the digits, tasting himself mixed with the faint sweetness of your spit. His eyes never leave yours, cerulean eyes a hint darker and possessive, like he’s claiming every part of this.
“Sweet,” he murmurs against his fingers. “But not as sweet as you’re gonna taste when we both fill that pretty cunt next.”
Eren’s hand slips between your thighs again, fingers brushing your still-throbbing clit, making you jolt.
“Our turn to mark you inside,” Eren growls low against your ear, nipping the lobe. “Gonna stuff you so full you’ll be leaking us for days.”
You’re still holding Toru’s cum on your tongue, thick, warm and waiting.
Toru leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth softly.
“Now swallow, baby,” he whispers. “Take all of me… then we’ll give you both.”
Your throat works. You swallow slow, feeling it slide down, warm and heavy while they watch like it’s the hottest thing they’ve ever seen.
And when your lips part again, empty now, Eren’s already shifting you, lining himself up.
They’re nowhere near done.
Not even close.
Eren’s hands are already on your hips the second you finish swallowing, rough palms sliding up your sides, guiding you with that same possessive grip he’s always had but never let loose like this. He pulls you forward until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. Your arms loop around his shoulders automatically, fingers digging into the back of his neck, forehead dropping to rest against his as you try to catch your breath.
He’s hard again, thick and flushed, leaking at the tip from stroking himself while he ate you out. The head nudges against your soaked entrance, slicking itself in your arousal without even trying. You whimper at the contact, hips twitching forward on instinct.
“Easy, baby girl,” Eren murmurs, voice low and wrecked. One hand stays clamped on your hip while the other reaches between you, guiding himself right to your opening. “Gonna take me slow and let me feel every inch of this tight little cunt finally wrap around me?”
You nod dumbly and eager, still hazy from coming so hard, and you start to sink down.
The stretch is immediate. Intense. He’s thick enough that your walls flutter and grip around the head the second it pops inside, and you gasp sharply against his mouth. Eren groans like he’s been punched in the gut, head falling back against the couch for a second before he snaps it forward again to watch your face.
“Fuck… look at you,” he breathes. “Taking me so pretty already.”
You keep sinking down slow and carefully, until he’s buried halfway in. Your thighs tremble from the burn of it and that’s when Toru moves.
He’s been right behind you the whole time, silent and patient, stroking himself lazy while he watched. Now he presses in close, chest flush to your back, one arm banding around your waist to hold you steady while his other hand slides down between your spread thighs.
As you take another inch of Eren, Toru shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt right alongside Eren’s cock.
The stretch doubles instantly. Your walls clamp down hard, fluttering wildly around the sudden fullness. You cry out high and broken, head tipping back against Toru’s shoulder.
“Fuck, baby,” Toru whispers hot against your ear, fingers curling deep, pressing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “So tight. So fucking full already and we’re just getting started.”
Eren’s hips jerk up on instinct, pushing deeper while Toru’s fingers thrust in shallow, matching the rhythm. The drag is obscene, Eren’s thick length stretching you open, Toru’s fingers rubbing against him through your walls, slick sounds filling the room every time they move.
“You’ll let me stretch this pretty pussy out too, hm?” Toru murmurs, voice all soft velvet as makes it sounds more like a promise than a threat. He scissors his fingers in slower, spreading you wider around Eren’s cock, making room. “Gonna open you up nice and slow so you can take both of us. Gonna feel so good when I slide in right next to him… gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else.”
You’re shaking between them, overwhelmed and suffed, dripping down Eren’s shaft and Toru’s wrist. Eren’s mouth finds your throat, sucking a fresh bruise while he bottoms out fully, hips flush to yours. The pressure is insane, Eren’s cock throbbing deep inside, Toru’s fingers still working you open, curling and thrusting until you’re clenching so hard it hurts in the best way.
“Goddamn,” Eren growls against your skin. “She’s gripping me like a fucking vice. Keep going, Toru ngh stretch her more. Wanna haah feel you in there with me.”
Toru adds a third finger in slow and carefully and you sob, nails digging into Eren’s shoulders. The burn blooms into heat, into pleasure so sharp it whites out your vision for a second.
“That’s it,” Toru praises, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Such a good girl. Taking us both already. Gonna fuck you together soon… gonna fill you up until you’re leaking us for days.”
Eren starts rocking up into you with shallow thrusts that make his cock drag against Toru’s fingers with every stroke. You’re so full you can barely think, just feel. Just take.
They’ve got you pinned perfectly, in the front and back, cock and fingers, mouths and hands everywhere.
And they’re only warming you up.
Toru’s fingers are still buried deep, three thick digits stretching you wide around Eren’s cock. When he finally starts to pull them out, slow. Every inch drags against your fluttering walls, against the heavy length already filling you, making you whimper and clench harder around Eren.
You’re shaking in Eren’s lap, arms locked around his shoulders, forehead pressed to his as you try to breathe through the overwhelming fullness. Eren’s hands grip your hips like anchors, keeping you seated deep on him while he watches Toru over your shoulder with those emerald, impatient eyes.
Toru’s voice is low against the back of your neck, lips brushing skin. “Gonna replace these fingers now, baby. Gonna slide right in next to him… gonna make this pretty pussy take us both.”
He shifts closer, chest flush to your back again, one hand steadying your waist while the other guides his cock down. The fat, slick head nudges right against your already-stretched entrance, pressing insistently beside Eren’s shaft. You feel the pressure immediately, hot, blunt, and impossible… fuck- it feels impossible and your breath hitches into a soft, panicked whine.
“Shh,” Toru soothes, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “Relax for me. You’ve been so good… you can take it. Just breathe.”
Eren groans low when he feels Toru start to push, feels the thick head crowding in, stretching you further. “Fuck… yeah, push in slow. Let her feel every inch.”
You’re so wet it helps, slick dripping down Eren’s balls, coating Toru’s tip but the stretch is blinding. Toru rocks forward gently at first, just the head breaching you alongside Eren. Your walls burn, fluttering wildly, trying to accommodate the impossible double thickness. A broken sob tears from your throat; your nails dig crescent moons into Eren’s shoulders.
“Too much?” Eren murmurs against your lips, kissing you soft and messy to distract you. “You’re doing so good, baby girl. Look at you, taking two cocks like you were made for it.”
You whine, embarrassed by the fact of his words. Eren soothes you gently, petting your back with slow strokes, shushing you in his arms.
Toru takes that as a sign to sink in deeper, inch by slow, torturous inch, until he’s buried to the hilt right next to Eren. The fullness is obscene: two thick lengths pressed flush together inside you, walls stretched thin and tremble around them. You can feel every vein, every throb, the way they twitch against each other through the thin barrier of your body.
“Goddamn,” Toru breathes, voice wrecked. His forehead drops to your shoulder, hips flush to your ass. “So fucking tight… can feel him right next to me. Feel how full you are, baby?”
You can’t speak… the words are stuck, you just nod frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks from the intensity. Eren starts moving first. Shallow, careful rolls of his hips that make both cocks drag inside you at once. The friction is electric; every slide rubs them together, rubs against that deep spot that makes your vision blur.
Toru matches him after a moment, pulling back slow while Eren pushes in, then switching. They find a rhythm quick: one in, one out, seesawing deep inside you so there’s never a second you’re empty. The drag is relentless, stretching, filling. Utterly overwhelming.
You’re crying now, soft and overwhelmed sobs into Eren’s neck while your hips start rocking back on instinct, chasing more even though you’re already so full it hurts in the sweetest way.
“That’s it,” Eren growls, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. “Ride us, baby. Fuck yourself on both our cocks. Show us how much you love being stuffed like this.”
Toru’s hand slips around to your clit, fingers finding the swollen bud and rubbing tight, fast circles while they keep thrusting. The added stimulation sends sparks up your spine; you clench hard around them both, making them groan in unison.
“Gonna come again?” Toru whispers hot against your ear. “Gonna soak us both? Milk us until we fill this little cunt up?”
Eren’s thrusts get harder, deeper. Hips snapping up to meet yours. “Come on our cocks, pretty girl. Let us feel it. Then we’re gonna pump you so full you’ll be dripping for us so beautifully.”
You’re trembling, teetering, so close again, your body stretched to its limit, clit throbbing under Toru’s fingers, two thick cocks ruining you from the inside out.
They’ve got you pinned, claimed and completely theirs.
And when you shatter this time it’s going to be devastating.
They’re moving in perfect, brutal sync now, Eren thrusting up deep while Toru drives in from behind, cocks sliding against each other inside your stretched, fluttering walls. Every push rubs them together through the thin membrane, friction so intense it makes your eyes roll back. You’re creaming around them. Thick, milky slick coating both shafts, dripping down Eren’s balls and Toru’s thighs with every wet slap of skin on skin.
Your tight walls grip them like a vice, milking desperately as they fuck straight into your cervix, blunt heads battering that deep, sensitive spot over and over. The pressure builds fast, sharp and overwhelming; your tummy bulges visibly with each thrust, the outline of their cocks pressing outward against your lower belly.
Eren notices first. His hand slides down from your hip, palm flattening over the soft swell. He pushes on it firmly, gently and deliberately, right where the bulge is most pronounced.
“Fuck, look at that,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Can feel myself right here… feel how deep we are inside you, baby girl? Stretching her little pussy so wide she’s bulging for us.”
You whimper broken and high, hips jerking between them. The pressure of his palm combined with the relentless pounding sends sparks shooting up your spine. Toru’s hand joins, fingers splaying beside Eren’s, both of them pressing down in tandem as they thrust harder, deeper.
“Gonna make you come like this,” Toru murmurs hot against your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Gonna feel you cream all over both our cocks while we kiss your cervix, hm baby want us deep in there?.”
You bite your lip, and it hits you suddenly and violent.
Your whole body locks up, back arching, thighs quaking, a raw sob tearing from your throat as you come harder than before. Walls spasm wildly around them, clenching so tight it drags broken groans from both their throats. Slick gushes out in messy pulses, soaking their cocks, dripping down in thick rivulets. Your vision whites out for a second; you’re shaking, crying, completely lost in the overwhelming fullness and the way Eren’s palm keeps pushing on that bulge, making every pulse of your orgasm feel deeper, sharper.
They don’t stop, can’t stop. They bury themselves to the hilt in one final, synchronized thrust, Eren’s hips snapping up, Toru slamming forward until there’s no space left inside you. You feel them throb, swell, and then they’re coming hard.
Hot, thick spurts flood you at the same time, Eren's cock pulsing deep against your cervix while Toru unloads right beside him, ropes of cum mixing, filling every inch until you’re overflowing. The pressure is insane; your walls flutter helplessly around the double load, trying to take it all but failing beautifully.
Toru pulls back just enough, barely an inch while staying buried deep. His free hand slides down between your thighs, thumb hooking one swollen lip and spreading you open wide. The sight is filthy: your pussy stretched obscenely around both cocks, creamy white cum already leaking out in a fat, slow spurt. It slips from between their shafts thick and pearly dripping down Toru’s length in a heavy trail, coating his balls, pooling on Eren’s thighs beneath you.
“Fuck… look at her leaking us,” Toru breathes, thumb rubbing slow circles through the mess, spreading it over your clit. “So full she can’t even keep it all inside.”
Eren groans low, hips twitching with aftershocks as another small spurt escapes him. His palm stays pressed to your tummy, feeling the faint throb of their cocks still buried deep.
“You’re ours now,” he rasps, kissing your sweaty temple. “This pussy’s marked. Stuffed. Leaking both of us.”
You’re trembling between them overstimulated, full to bursting, cum dripping slow and steady down your thighs. They don’t pull out. Not yet.
They just hold you there, cocks softening slightly but still thick inside, keeping every drop plugged deep while their hands roam lazy over your body.
Claimed.
Ruined.
Theirs.
The room feels heavier now, thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and the faint salt of cum. You’re still straddling Eren’s lap, thighs quivering, body limp and boneless between them. Their cocks are softening inside you, but neither has pulled out yet, just resting there, keeping you plugged full, every tiny shift making a fresh trickle of their mixed release slip out.
Toru moves first.
He eases back slow and carefull, so so gentle, until his cock finally slips free with a wet, obscene sound. A thick gush of cum follows immediately, spilling from your stretched hole, running hot down your inner thighs and dripping onto Eren’s lap. You whimper at the sudden emptiness, walls fluttering around Eren’s length like they’re trying to pull him deeper to compensate.
Toru doesn’t go far.
He leans in close behind you again, chest pressed to your back, arms wrapping around your waist in a loose, possessive hold. His lips find the side of your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses. Trailing up the curve where he’d bitten earlier. Gentle now. Soothing. Each press of his mouth feels like an apology and a promise at once.
“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and wrecked. “Took us both so perfect. Look at you… all messy and full of us.” Another kiss, slower, right under your ear. His tongue flicks out to taste the salt there. “Gonna take care of you now. Promise.”
His hands slide up your sides, warm palms smoothing over ribs, petting you like you’re something fragile and precious. One hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the base of your skull while he keeps kissing your throat, your jaw, the soft spot behind your ear.
Eren’s still buried inside you, half-hard, twitching lazily every time your walls flutter. He shifts just enough to sit up straighter, pulling you flush against his chest so your breasts press to him. His mouth finds yours immediately, a slow, deep kiss that tastes like your own slick and his tongue. Lazy. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring every second now that the frantic edge is gone.
One hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb circling the nipple soft and unhurried, teasing it back to a stiff peak. He pinches gently, rolls it between his fingers, then soothes with the flat of his palm. The other hand stays low, splayed over your lower belly where the bulge has softened but you can still feel the faint throb of him inside.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he mutters against your lips, kissing you again, messy and open-mouthed, tongue sliding slow against yours. “All flushed and leaking us. Our pretty girl.”
He keeps playing with your tits, kneading one while he kisses you deeper, then switching to the other, thumb flicking the nipple until you arch into his touch with a soft whine. Every tug sends little aftershocks through your oversensitive body; your cunt clenches weakly around him, milking another small bead of cum that drips out around his base.
Toru’s mouth never leaves your neck, kissing and sucking soft bruises into fresh skin, whispering praise between each press of his lips.
“So sweet… so fucking perfect… ours, baby. All ours.”
Eren breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur against your mouth, “Gonna stay like this a while. Keep you full. Keep you warm.”
His fingers keep teasing your nipple with gentle pinches and slow circles, while Toru’s hands roam your sides, your back, your hips. They’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, soft touches and warm mouths, their low voices rumbling praise into your skin.
You’re boneless between them, head lolling back against Toru’s shoulder, lips parted on shaky breaths, body humming with the quiet afterglow.
They don’t rush.
They just hold you.
Kiss you.
Pet you.
Like they’ve got all night.
Like they’ve finally got what they’ve wanted for so long.
ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰3somes ⋮⋮ college au ⋮⋮ reader is a cheerleader ⋮⋮ weed / shot-gunning ⋮⋮ fingering ⋮⋮ oral ( reader & shoko rec.) ⋮⋮ 69ing w Shoko ⋮⋮ pet names: princess, baby etc ⋮⋮ spit play ⋮⋮ breast & nipple worship꒱
You’re hunched over your desk in those tiny pastel shorts and the cropped university hoodie that barely covers anything anymore, highlighter between your teeth, pretending the bio notes in front of you make sense. The room smells like vanilla wax melt and your coconut leave-in. Peaceful, innocent. Then three soft knocks — too rhythmic, too knowing.
You open the door and fuck.
Shoko’s leaning in the frame first, black fishnets ripped at the thigh, oversized olive-green bomber, silver snake choker glinting under the hallway light. Her tongue flicks over the corner of her mouth the second she sees your wide-eyed bambi stare.
“Hi, princess.”
Before your brain can reboot Mikasa is already stepping in behind her, tall and silent, black lace bralette peeking from under an open black trench, dark lipstick already smudged like she’s been biting her own lip thinking about this all day. She reaches past you, clicks the lock and the sound is louder than it should be.
Shoko doesn’t ask, she just closes the gap, palms sliding up your cheeks, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth like she’s sizing you up for something filthy. Then she kisses you slow, wet, lazy tongue and curling against yours like she’s tasting the cherry gloss you put on three hours ago just because you felt pretty.
You make a tiny startled noise into her mouth.
She pulls back just enough to murmur, “God you taste sweet already,” voice all smoke and promethazine rasp. Then she’s stepping around you, fishing the half-finished blunt from her pocket, flicking her lighter like it’s nothing.
Mikasa doesn’t give you time to breathe.
She steps right into your space, one hand catching your jaw, not roughly, just firmly tilting your face up so she can look at you properly. Her eyes are so dark they feel like you're sinking into them just by looking, then she kisses you too. Deeper…hungrier, less teasing, more claiming. Her tongue slides against yours like she’s mapping every inch Shoko's didn’t get to yet, you sway…legs already stupid.
Shoko flops onto your bed first, knees spread, combat boots still on, rude of her mind you, like she owns the place, then she takes the first long pull, cherry-wood, the tip glows orange, then she exhales a thick ribbon of smoke towards the ceiling.
“C’mere, baby.” She says with a lazy, dazed smile curling her lips.
Mikasa’s hands are already on your waist, guiding, not asking and she walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you drop down between them automatically, pliant, dizzy from the double-kiss ambush, then the weed hits your nose before you even register Shoko holding the blunt to her lips, she takes another pull.
“Open,” she says, soft but mean.
You do.
She shotguns you first, her plump llips brushing yours, pushing the smoke straight into your mouth while Mikasa’s fingers slip under your hoodie, cool rings grazing the underside of your tits, you whimper into the kiss and shoko laughs low against your mouth, pulls back just to watch your lashes flutter.
“Good girl.”
Mikasa takes the blunt next, pulls deep, then leans in and seals her mouth over yours again — shotgunning you harder, smoke curling between your tongues while her thumb circles your nipple through the thin bralette you’re wearing underneath and you arch without meaning to.
Shoko’s mouth finds your neck at the same time, open-mouthed, slow drags of her tongue, teeth grazing just enough to sting. “You’re already shaking, princess,” she whispers right under your ear. “We haven’t even touched your pussy yet, you want us that bad huh?”
Mikasa hums agreement, voice velvet-gravel, her hand slides lower, palm flat against your stomach, fingers dipping just under the waistband of your shorts…not inside, not yet. Just there, teasing the elastic.
Shoko pulls back to look at you, eyes half-lidded, lips shiny from your gloss and her own spit.
“You gonna let us taste your pretty cunt, baby?” she asks, like it’s a real question. Like you could say no.
Mikasa’s fingers flex against your skin, impatiently waiting.
Your head tips back against Shoko’s shoulder. The weed is swimming through you now, warm and syrupy, turning every brush of their hands into sparks.
You nod, suddenly a little shy but you're desperate.
Shoko grins against your throat.
“That’s our good little cheer slut.”
Mikasa’s hands are already on your hips the second you’re boneless between them, pulling you forward with that quiet, inevitable strength. She doesn’t ask, she just maneuvers you until you’re straddling her lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her thighs. Your hoodie’s rucked up under your arms now, tiny cheer shorts riding high, and she looks up at you like you’re dessert she’s been starving for.
Her palms slide up under the fabric, cupping your tits fully this time, no more teasing over the bralette and drags her thumbs across your nipples once slow and deliberately, watching your mouth fall open on a shaky breath.
“Been thinking about these all week,” she murmurs, voice low and rough like she’s confessing a sin. Then she yanks the hoodie and bralette up and over your head in one smooth motion, tossing them somewhere behind her without looking.
Your bare chest is right there, flushed and heaving, Mikasa doesn’t waste time, she leans in, her lips closing around one nipple, hot and wet and sucking hard enough to make your back bow. Her tongue flicks, circles, then she pulls off with a soft pop just to switch to the other one, teeth grazing the sensitive peak while her hand kneads the first, rolling it between cool fingers.
You’re already whimpering, hips twitching forward on instinct, grinding down against the seam of her black jeans like you can’t help it.
That’s when Shoko moves.
She’s been watching, a lazy smile curling her lips, blunt forgotten on your nightstand still smoldering and now she’s sliding up behind you on her knees, chest pressing to your back, chin hooked over your shoulder so she can watch Mikasa’s mouth work.
“Fuck, look at you,” Shoko breathes against your ear, one hand snaking around to palm your stomach while the other hooks into the waistband of your shorts. “Already dripping through these little things, huh?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. Just tugs on it hard, the pastel fabric drags down your thighs, catching briefly on your knees before she yanks them the rest of the way off and flings them toward the floor. Cool air hits your soaked cunt and you whine, loud and needy.
Shoko laughs softly, mean and sweet at the same time, her fingers are there before you can even process it, two sliding through your folds, slow, gathering your sappy slick, then pushing in knuckle-deep, into your tight cunt without warning.
You gasp, hips jerking forward into Mikasa’s mouth.
“So fucking wet, princess,” Shoko drawls, curling her fingers just right, stroking that spot that makes your thighs shake. “This little pussy’s been waiting for us, hasn’t it?”
She doesn’t give you time to answer. Pulls her fingers out slowly, then spreads you open with both hands, thumbs holding your pussylips apart so she can see everything.
Mikasa’s still latched onto your tit, sucking bruises into the soft skin, but her eyes flick down too, dark and hungry.
Shoko leans in.
Her tongue drags flat from your clit all the way up to your soft hole in one long, filthy stripe. Then she seals her mouth over you, sucking sloppy, loud, with no shame. Tongue flicking fast against your clit while her fingers slide back inside, pumping in time with the way she’s eating you.
You’re trapped — Mikasa’s mouth on your tits, relentlessly switching between sucking and biting, leaving your nipples swollen and shiny; Shoko behind you, face buried in your cunt from the back, moaning into you like she’s the one getting off.
Your hands scrabble, one tangling in Mikasa’s dark hair to hold her against your chest, the other reaching back to grip Shoko’s wrist like you need something to anchor you while they ruin you.
Shoko pulls off just long enough to murmur against your dripping folds, breath hot,
“Gonna make you come all over my tongue, baby. Then we’re gonna switch.”
Mikasa hums around your nipple in agreement, the vibration shooting straight to your core.
Your head falls back against Shoko’s shoulder, mouth open on silent cries, thighs trembling, pussy clenching around nothing and everything at once.
They’ve got you right where they want you — split open, dripping and all theirs.
You’re still straddling Mikasa’s lap, thighs spread wide, trembling so hard the whole bed feels like it’s vibrating under you. Mikasa’s got one arm banded around your lower back now, holding you flush against her so you can’t squirm away even if you wanted to. Her mouth is latched back onto your tit, sucking slow, deep pulls now, tongue laving lazy circles around the swollen nipple like she’s trying to milk every tiny whimper out of you. The other hand is kneading the neglected one, thumb flicking the peak in cruel little rhythms that make your hips buck forward uselessly.
Shoko’s still behind you, on her knees, chest pressed to your back like she’s molding herself to every shudder that racks your body. She’s been quiet for a second, just breathing hot against your spine, letting you feel the drag of her tongue tracing your vertebrae then she pulls back just enough to spit. Right onto your ass. Thick, warm, obscene. It slides down the cleft, dripping over your already soaked hole.
You jolt. A broken little “ah—” slips out.
Shoko chuckles, low and dark. “Yeah? You like that, princess?”
Before you can even nod she rears back and slaps, her open palm cracking sharp against one cheek, then the other in quick succession. The sound echoes in the small room, obscene and wet because you’re dripping everywhere now. Your ass jiggles, skin blooming pink under her hand, and she does it again — harder — watching the way the flesh ripples.
“Fuck, look at this pretty little cunt,” she murmurs, almost to herself. Two fingers spread you open again, thumbs pulling your lips apart so wide you feel the cool air kiss your clit. Then she slaps there too — lighter, but right on the swollen nub. You cry out, hips snapping forward into Mikasa’s mouth.
Shoko doesn’t stop. She spits again — straight onto your entrance this time, then pushes three fingers in at once. No warning. Just the slick stretch, your tight walls fluttering around the sudden fullness. You’re so wet it slides in easy, but you’re still so fucking tight, clenching like your body’s trying to push her out and pull her deeper at the same time.
“Goddamn, baby,” Shoko groans, voice wrecked. She starts pumping, slow at first, letting you feel every ridge of her knuckles dragging against your walls — then faster, curling, scissoring, stretching you open like she’s prepping you for something bigger later. “This pussy’s greedy as hell. Sucking me right back in.”
Mikasa hums around your nipple in agreement, the vibration shooting straight down to where Shoko’s wrecking you. She switches tits again, sucking the other one into her mouth now, teeth grazing just enough to sting while her free hand slides down your stomach.
Her fingers find your clit at the exact same second Shoko’s tongue does.
Shoko’s been eating you sloppy this whole time — chin shiny, lips swollen — but now she focuses. Tongue flicking fast over your clit in messy little circles while her fingers keep fucking into you, curling hard against that spot that makes your vision white out.
And Mikasa, fuck — her fingers replace Shoko’s mouth for a second. Two of them pressing down on your clit, rubbing firm, slow circles while Shoko’s tongue laps at the edges, catching the slick that’s dripping down your thighs.
It’s too much.
You’re caught between them — Mikasa nursing on your tits like she’ll never get enough, sucking bruises into the soft undersides now, leaving you marked and sensitive; Shoko behind you, three fingers buried deep, stretching you wide, thumb occasionally brushing your rim just to make you clench harder; both of them on your clit at once — Shoko’s tongue sloppy and relentless, Mikasa’s fingers precise and mean.
Your whole body locks up. Thighs shaking, back arching so hard your head thumps back against Shoko’s shoulder. You’re babbling, nonsense, pleas, their names — voice cracking on every syllable.
Shoko pulls her mouth off just long enough to growl against your cunt, “Come on, princess. Give it to us. Soak my fucking face.”
Mikasa bites down on your nipple sharp, perfectly it stings, and rubs your clit faster.
You break.
The orgasm hits like a slap, it's hard and sudden, blinding your control. You scream, hips grinding down onto Shoko’s tongue and fingers while Mikasa keeps sucking, keeps rubbing, drawing it out until you’re twitching, overstimulated till tears prick your lashes.
They don’t stop.
Shoko keeps fingering you through it, slower now, but deep, milking every aftershock while her tongue laps gently at your oversensitive clit.
Mikasa switches to soft, open-mouthed kisses across your chest, murmuring “good girl, such a good fucking girl” against your skin.
You’re a mess, sweaty and trembling, pussy clenching around nothing now that Shoko’s finally pulled her fingers out, only to replace them with her tongue again, slow and soothing but still hungry.
Shoko pulls back just enough to press a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to the small of your back.
“Think you can take another one, baby?” she asks, voice all smoke and promise. “’Cause we’re nowhere near done with this pretty pussy.”
Mikasa’s hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so she can kiss you sweet, tasting like your own skin.
“Say yes,” she whispers against your lips.
Your head’s spinning. Body still buzzing.
But your mouth moves on its own.
“…yes.”
Shoko’s finally peeled herself off your back, skin flushed and glistening with sweat and your slick. She kicks off her ripped black jeans in one impatient shove, fishnets still clinging to her thighs like torn webs, then shimmies out of her soaked black thong, tossing it somewhere near your discarded shorts. She crawls backward up the bed until her shoulders hit the headboard, legs spreading wide, shameless. Her cunt’s already shiny, swollen lips parted just enough to show how wet she got from wrecking you.
She pats her own thigh once, lazy smirk curling.
“Bring that pretty cunt over here, princess.”
Her voice is wrecked, husky and demanding, dripping with that mean-girl sweetness that makes your stomach flip. You’re still shaking from the last orgasm, thighs slick down to your knees, but your body moves before your brain catches up. Crawling forward on all fours, ass in the air, tits swaying with every inch closer.
Mikasa’s right there with you silent and waiting, already shifting so she’s kneeling beside Shoko’s hip, dark hair falling over one shoulder like ink. She doesn’t say anything. Just watches you straddle Shoko’s face backward, knees bracketing Shoko’s head, your dripping pussy hovering right over her waiting mouth.
Shoko doesn’t wait for you to lower yourself. Her hands clamp onto your hips as her nails dig in and she yanks you down hard, burying her face in your cunt like she’s starving. Tongue plunging straight in, fucking you with it immediately, sloppy and relentless. She moans loud into you, the vibration making your arms buckle.
You cry out, forehead dropping to Shoko’s stomach, ass arched high. Perfect position.
Mikasa moves in front, kneeling between Shoko’s spread thighs, hands sliding up those fishnet-covered legs to push them wider. She doesn’t tease. Just leans down and drags her tongue flat from Shoko’s entrance to her clit in one long, slow stripe. Shoko’s hips jerk up off the bed.
“Fuck…yeah mhm- just like that,” Shoko gasps against your pussy, words muffled because her mouth never leaves you. She’s eating you like it’s oxygen, sucking your clit, tongue-fucking in deep, then pulling back just to spit on your hole and watch it drip before diving back in.
You can’t just watch. You drop lower, face hovering over Shoko’s cunt now, nose brushing Mikasa’s cheek as you both work her. You spit first, a thick, messy glob right onto Shoko’s clit, watching it glisten even more. Then you lean in and kiss Mikasa around it, open-mouthed, tongues sliding together over Shoko’s swollen nub. Sloppy and wet, sharing the taste of her while your lips brush and suck at the same sensitive spot.
Shoko’s thighs tremble around Mikasa’s head. Her hands on your ass squeeze harder, spreading you wider so she can get deeper, tongue curling inside you, nose grinding against your clit with every thrust of her face. She’s fucking masochistic about it, grinding her own hips up into your mouth and Mikasa’s at the same time, chasing the overstimulation like she needs to be ruined too.
You pull back just enough to spit again, messy strings connecting your lips to Shoko’s cunt, then dive back in, sucking her clit hard while Mikasa’s tongue pushes inside her, fucking her slow and deep. Your tongues meet again over Shoko’s folds, kissing filthy around her, swapping spit and slick, moaning into each other’s mouths while Shoko writhes underneath you both.
Shoko’s losing it. Her hips buck wild, grinding up into your face, into Mikasa’s. She’s whimpering now the sounds high and broken, muffled by your pussy, still eating you like her life depends on it. One hand leaves your ass to tangle in Mikasa’s hair, shoving her face deeper.
“Don’t — don’t stop…fuck, make me come on your tongues —”
You obey and suck harder, letting Mikasa take the lead on fucking Shoko’s hole with her tongue while you focus on the clit, flicking fast, then flattening your tongue to lap broad and messy.
Mikasa’s free hand slides up to pinch Shoko’s nipple hard, twisting just enough to make Shoko arch off the bed with a choked scream.
That’s it.
Shoko comes hard, her whole body locking, thighs clamping around Mikasa’s head, hips grinding up into your mouth in frantic little jerks. She’s soaking, slick coating your chin, Mikasa’s lips, dripping down her own thighs. Her tongue never stops on you though; if anything it gets sloppier, more desperate, like she’s trying to drag you over the edge with her.
You’re close again, pussy clenching around nothing while Shoko tongue-fucks you through her own orgasm. Mikasa pulls back just long enough to murmur against Shoko’s still-twitching cunt,
“Our turn to make her scream next.”
Shoko laughs breathless and wrecked, then yanks your hips down harder, sealing her mouth over your clit and sucking like she wants to pull your soul out of you.
You’re not getting off this ride until they say so.
And they’re nowhere near done.
Your knees dig into the mattress on either side of Shoko’s head, thighs already quivering like they might give out any second. Shoko’s hands are locked around the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping your cunt pressed flush to her mouth, no escape, no mercy. Her tongue is still buried deep, slow lazy thrusts now that your last orgasm has left you dripping and hypersensitive, every flick making your hips jerk involuntarily.
Mikasa shifts in front of you, kneeling tall between Shoko’s spread legs so she’s face-to-face with you, dark eyes locked on yours like she’s reading every twitch, every flutter of your lashes. Her hands find your hips, palms cool and grip firm, steadying you exactly where she wants you.
She doesn’t speak at first. Just starts guiding.
Slow rolls at first, pulling your hips back so your clit drags along the flat of Shoko’s tongue, then pushing forward again so Shoko’s nose nudges your entrance and her lips seal around you. The motion is controlled, deliberate, like Mikasa’s using your body to fuck Shoko’s face for her own pleasure.
You whimper out, it's high and broken as your head tips forward until your forehead rests against Mikasa’s shoulder. Every grind sends sparks up your spine; you’re so overstimulated that even the softest pressure feels like too much, clit throbbing, walls fluttering around nothing while Shoko’s tongue keeps lapping slow and greedy.
Mikasa feels it, the way your thighs start to shake harder, the tiny sobs catching in your throat, the way your nails dig into her arms like you’re holding on for dear life.
She softens.
Her grip loosens just enough to cradle instead of command. One hand slides up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast in a gentle sweep, while the other stays on your hip, still guiding, but slower now, shallower rocks that let you catch your breath against Shoko’s relentless mouth.
Shoko hums low approval into your cunt, the vibration spreading through you but doesn’t push. Just keeps her tongue flat and still for a second, letting you grind at your own pace while Mikasa holds you steady.
Mikasa tilts your chin up with two fingers.
Your eyes meet hers, watery and dazed, pupils blown wide.
She leans in slow.
The kiss is nothing like before.
Soft and sweet, lips brushing yours like she’s handling something fragile. No tongue at first, just the gentle press, the warmth of her mouth, the faint taste of Shoko still lingering on both of you. She kisses the corner of your mouth, then the other, then seals her lips over yours properly, slow and languid, swallowing the tiny whimpers you can’t hold back.
Her hand cups your jaw now, thumb stroking your cheekbone while she kisses you deeper, but still gentle, still careful. Tongues touching just the tips and then sliding together in lazy, comforting strokes. You melt into it, body going pliant between them; hips still rocking shallow on Shoko’s face, but the frantic edge is gone, replaced by something warmer, sweeter.
Shoko’s tongue gives one last slow drag from your entrance to your clit soft and soothing, before she pulls back just enough to breathe against your folds.
“Pretty baby,” she murmurs, voice muffled and wrecked. “You’re doing so good for us.”
Mikasa breaks the kiss only to rest her forehead against yours, noses brushing.
“Still with us?” she whispers, lips grazing yours with every word.
You nod small…shaky, lips tingling from her sweetness.
Her lips curve into a rare smile, it's soft and just for you, she kisses you again. Once, then twice, little pecks of her lips that make your chest ache in the best way.
Shoko’s hands slide up to rub slow circles on your thighs, grounding and possessive.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Mikasa murmurs against your mouth, “we’ll keep going. Or we can just stay like this.”
Her fingers thread through your hair, cradling the back of your head.
Shoko presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, then another…then one last gentle lick along your slit, cleaning you up without pushing for more.
You’re caught between them; Shoko’s warm mouth still so close, Mikasa’s steady hands and sweeter kisses holding you together.
For the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel like they’re trying to break you.
It feels like they’re keeping you.
Mikasa’s still got you, her hands steady on your hips, thumbs stroking slow arcs over the sensitive skin there like she’s reminding you she’s not letting go. Your forehead rests against her collarbone, breaths coming in shaky little puffs, body humming with the aftershocks that won’t quite fade.
Under you, Shoko shifts.
She plants her palms on the mattress and pushes herself up slow and carefully, until her face is level with your hips again and presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of one hipbone, then the other. Warm lips, gentle suction, little nips that make you twitch without hurting, her tongue traces lazy patterns over the faint red marks her nails left earlier, soothing them like an apology.
“C’mere, princess,” she murmurs against your skin, voice all smoke and velvet now, no edge, just warmth.
Mikasa helps and together they guide you down gently and unhurried, until your back hits the cool sheets. You sink into them with a soft exhale, legs falling open naturally, body too spent to fight gravity anymore. Shoko settles on your left, Mikasa on your right, bracketing you like they’re afraid you’ll float away if they don’t keep you grounded.
They don’t rush.
Mikasa leans in first, her lips brushing the swell of your breast, soft and lovingly. She kisses the underside, then circles the nipple with slow, wet drags of her tongue before taking it into her mouth. Not sucking hard this time. Just nursing on you with soft, gentle pulls, tongue laving in lazy circles, like she’s savoring every tiny shiver she pulls from you.
Shoko mirrors her on the other side. Kisses the soft skin just above your nipple, then closes her lips around it slowly, tender suctions that match Mikasa’s rhythm perfectly. Their mouths work in tandem; one pulls while the other soothes with little kitten licks, then they switch their rhythm without breaking contact. Your back arches just a little on instinct, not desperation and they both hum approvals against your skin.
Their free hands slide down together.
Fingers intertwine over your mound first, Shoko’s pinky brushing Mikasa’s then they separate, slipping lower. Mikasa’s fingers find your clit, two of them pressing soft, slow circles, barely any pressure, just enough to keep the sparks flickering. Shoko’s, slide through your folds, gathering the slick that’s still leaking out of you then pushes inside, her two fingers curling gently against that spot that makes your toes curl.
No slapping…no stretching, they're tender now.
Just soft, steady rhythm, fingers moving in perfect sync, building you up slow like they’ve got all night. Mikasa’s thumb joins her fingers on your clit now, rubbing in tiny, patient circles while Shoko’s fingers stroke inside you deep and unhurried, pressing just right every time.
You’re whimpering soft, breathy sounds that melt into their mouths when they lean up to kiss you in turns. First Mikasa’s slow and sweet, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s drinking you in and Shoko's lazier, filthier, but still gentle, lips catching every little gasp.
They talk to you between kisses, quiet, murmured praises that sinks into your bones.
“So pretty when you let go like this…”
“Feel how wet you still are for us, baby…”
“Good girl… just like that… let it build slowly…”
Your hips roll up into their hands with lazy, needy little rocks and they match you, never rushing, never pushing too hard. The pleasure coils tighter, warmer, different this time, not a violent snap, but a slow, rolling wave that starts in your toes and spreads upward like honey.
When it finally crests, it’s soft. Deep. Your whole body shudders with long, trembling pulses that make you clench around Shoko’s fingers, clit throbbing under Mikasa’s thumb. You come with a quiet, broken moan, your mouth open against Mikasa’s shoulder, tears slipping down your temples because it feels so much without hurting.
They don’t stop right away.
They ease you through it, fingers slowing to gentle strokes, thumbs brushing feather-light over your clit until the aftershocks fade to little flutters. Then they pull out slow, careful, and bring their slick fingers up to trace lazy patterns over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, like they’re painting you with the evidence of how good you were for them.
Mikasa kisses your temple. Shoko nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your pulse.
They stay like that, bodies pressed close, hands roaming soft and possessive, mouths leaving little kisses wherever they land.
No more teasing words. No more mean edges.
Just the three of you tangled in the sheets, breathing each other in, soft and quiet and sated.
Shoko’s the first to break the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Let us stay the night?”
Mikasa’s arm tightens around your waist.
You don’t even have to answer.
You already know you don't want them going anywhere.
art credits: @/hunnismokah . divider credits: @/cafekitsune .
synopsis: you know your boyfriend sukuna’s life relies on parties, alcohol, everything brimming with chaos and something akin to regret—you knew this and you stayed, hoping he’d change, hoping he’d actually see you for once. but when one argument spirals out of your hands, you’re storming out of his place vowing to never come back. this is the first time sukuna realised he’s fucked up. badly. you were the one girl that didn’t taste of cheap vodka and regret the morning after. so he now has a choice. to fix the very thing he promised he’d never break, or to keep his act up until it kills him. but would it kill him to admit that you meant something to him after all?
a/n: shoutout to my baby @twinkletfout for helping me plan this one out i lav u my precious, also this isn’t proofread so be nice
cw: slight angst to comfort, sukuna is an ass and reader is a little bit of a pushover !!
wc: 5k.
you’ve lost count of how many times sukuna’s forgotten to come home to you. lost count on how many times he’s promised you the world only to throw every single one of them to the fucking dirt. and quite frankly, you don’t know how you got here. you told yourself he was good, that he used to be, you told your friends that he cared—and you didn’t know who you were trying to convince, them or just yourself.
but a part of it was true. well it was once. that sukuna ryomen had left behind his chaos-filled, party life behind for you. he grew soft, restrained, the worst part was that he grew to care. and he convinced himself couldn’t have that—that vulnerability, his walls seemed to crack and it sent him in a frenzy to build them back up.
—
he was everything you weren't. and to most people, your relationship was something that was straight out of a fever dream.
the absolute angel of a girl with a man who couldn't hold his ground even if he tried.
but he wasn't like that around you. well, sometimes. he'd open his heart the slightest amount and withdraw almost instantly. but you knew that he was trying, that he would change.
but sukuna didn't want any of that. the second he felt the smallest kindness, his brain was quick to shut it down and want to wreck it before it got too far.
—
when he first attempted to ‘court’ you he’d send you stupid flowers, show up with the snacks you always liked, always going out of his way to try to impress you. well in his own subtle way, but he always just tried.
he’d left behind such a big part of his life to keep you close, partying less, avoiding the alcohol because knew how much you hated it. he cared, he really did. but gods you were just so good. too good. and far too angelic, and kind, and everything that was just so out of his reach, it fucked him up.
and old habits die hard. and a small fucked up part of him wanted to see how far he could push you before you leave him too. how far he could pull the strings on your poor heart until you’d finally want to get rid of him. because of course someone as sweet as you, someone that charming would never be someone who was destined to stay by his side.
ryomen sukuna wrecked things, it was simply what he was good at. and no matter how hard he tried to be good to you, his old ways always found a new way to ruin what was the one good thing he had left in his life.
—
you sat on the couch for the umpteenth time this month, waiting for sukuna to get back home from another party that he swore he wouldn’t attend. you were supposed to go out tonight. and like a fool, you thought your boyfriend would follow through with his words this time. you’d sworn a million times that this’d be your last straw. it never was.
you’d grown painfully attached to him. he treated you like you were something precious, like you were someone who mattered, well he did. he really did.
right while your brain continued down the same painful spiral, sukuna came stumbling into your place. he reeked of alcohol, and gods you hated that smell. and fuck you hated it when he was drunk. he was loud, abrasive, and everything that you absolutely had hated about him boiling until saturation.
you try to approach him slowly, reaching your arms out, trying to comfort him the only way you always did—
“get the fuck away from me, y/n.”
you immediately withdrew into yourself. he’d been making more comments about you lately, but sukuna never, never fucking talked to you like that before.
“ryomen, what’re you talking about—“
“fuck, y/n, you really are pathetic. you let me treat you like shit, you let me walk all over you and you’re still here. you still refuse to accept the fact that you should just leave with the last shred of self respect you have left.”
you could feel the tears slowly bubbling up behind your eyes. sukuna knew exactly what you were like, and the worst part was he knew exactly why you were the way you were. you couldn’t stand the idea of someone disliking you, you were always painfully understanding, always willing to go through hell and back for anyone who meant absolutely anything to you.
he used to praise you for being sweet, used to whisper sweet nothings into your ears about how he’d be the storm to your calm, how he’d make sure people wouldn’t just use you and throw you away like they always did.
it was always okay or so you told yourself. but the one thing you thought sukuna wouldn’t do was treat you the exact same way that everyone else did. fucking with your poor sweet heart until you had nothing else left to give.
“grow a spine, y/n. it’s getting a little sad to watch, baby.”
the sweet nickname sounded like venom on his tongue, not the way he used to say it before. the tears burning in your eyes eventually spilling down your cheeks. you hated it. you hated how easy it was to get inside your head. how easy you cried at the first sign of distress.
but for once, beyond the stupid thumping in your chest and the pit in your stomach, you felt something akin to rage. and for the first time, instead of enveloping sukuna in your arms, you felt your feet move, walking directly toward him, while a sharp smack! landed across his face.
you were almost just as stunned as he was, his cheek burning read with the imprint of your palm right across his face.
and just before you felt your throat close up—
“i’m done playing your stupid game, sukuna. we’re done.”
your words were sharp, final. a tone you’d never heard yourself possess before. it felt almost freeing.
but the moment you looked up at his face you absolutely knew he wasn’t taking a single word coming out of your mouth seriously. and before you knew it, he let out a laugh. the fucking audacity.
you felt your legs move again, shoving the stuff you had kept in his apartment into the nearest bag you could find, sobbing between each movement, frantically moving everything into your bags before storming out of the building, slamming the door in his face.
—
and the second you left the apartment, absolutely fuming, a part of sukuna’s fucked out brain knew he’d finally fucked up. that building back his walls, turning himself into the very thing he promised he’d never be around you finally caught up to him.
he wanted to think you’d come crawling back. you always did. he wished he had an explanation for his behaviour. but you were just…too you. and he was sukuna. the second he felt his heart soften he had to remind himself that you deserved better, you deserved better than just a half assed attempt at a redemption. you deserved someone kind. and he was everything that you should’ve avoided. maybe, just maybe pushing you away would feel freeing. maybe it’d feel like the weight that was crawling up his throat would finally disappear. oh, poor sukuna. if only he knew, that trying would always mean so much more than vain perfection. and the fact that he was trying would’ve always been more than enough for you.
—
you knew he was too drunk out of his mind to even remember what’d taken place in there. so you figured you’d tell his friend, toji to tell sukuna to stay the fuck away from you.
you liked that about toji. he never got between people’s business unless necessary, and you knew he’d pass on the message without questioning you about anything.
you’d found your way into yuki’s apartment, crying into her arms the second you got there, sobbing nearly hysterically while she slowly pet your head until you cried until you tired yourself out.
constantly babbling about how you trusted him, while yuki slowly cooed, whispering about how none of it was your fault. and heavens she swore that sukuna would get a piece of her mind soon enough. but for now, all she cared about was making sure you wouldn’t self destruct—you loved sukuna beyond what words could convey. sukuna knew you in ways that terrified you, he knew you, inside out and every jab he took at you felt like pickets were being stabbed into your heart. it hurt so much. and you just wanted it all to go away.
—
sukuna woke up would what he could only describe to be the feeling of a hammer pounding against his head. his immediate instinct was to reach out to you, looking for you in the apartment slowly—until the realisation hit him like a freight train.
fucking hell. he’d meant to try to get you to leave, hoping his notorious reputation that came crawling back would send you away. that it’d push you away far enough that you’d hate him. that you’d think it was all his fault that this relationship of yours would never work out. he never should’ve let this get too far anyway.
now? you were going to blame yourself. you would spiral and destruct thinking this was all on you. running his arm down his face, groaning while he went down this rabbit hole, his hair still messy, his breath still heavy with the stench of cheap vodka.
just before his brain was wracking for the things he’d said last night—toji stormed straight into the room. and in all his life, sukuna swore that he’d never seen him angrier. because toji never had a temper. he was simply the guy who barely gave a fuck about anything. and with the way toji was looking at him, sukuna could tell he was fuming.
“what. the. fuck. did you just do sukuna?”
it was odd, you were his girlfriend, so why was toji this mad at him? and his yelling was ringing in his ears paired with his utterly horrendous hangover.
“i don’t know man i was drunk out of my mind-“
“fuck out of here with that bullshit sukuna. you’ve been trying to push her away for months. if you wanted to dump her you should’ve just outright done it. you know she deserves better than whatever you just pulled.”
okay. ouch. way to kick a man when he’s down. but sukuna knew he was right. he fucked up. and he was going to have to face the repercussions of having had finally snapped the sweetest girl on campus in half.
—
you woke up in a frenzy in yuki’s room, buried amongst fluffy blankets you were nearly drowning in them while yuki brought you some tea.
“you feelin’ okay sweetheart”
“gods yuki i owe you my life.”
you groan almost flopping face first onto her lap again.
“no, you owe me monetary compensation for dealing with that man.”
you snicker, it’s the first time you’d felt your heart feel light since forever. it felt..good, not having someone constantly weigh you down until you felt like you were walking around eggshells around them. you felt seen. and you sure as hell didn’t feel stupid for being a girl with a big heart like you always did.
—
toji by no means let sukuna down gently—he made sure to go on an insufferable rant about how perfect you were and if sukuna didn’t get his shit together, someone else would and sukuna would be left being the idiot who fumbled the girl who would’ve moved mountains for him.
sukuna wanted to think this was all a sick joke. he wanted to push you away, it was for your own good, after all!! so why was it that every single time he thought of your stupid face, it made his chest ache with a wound that he couldn’t quite fix?
—
you made a vow to yourself to not cave. you’ve cut sukuna far too much slack, and you’re never letting him have that power over you. never again.
a sick part of you wanted to see him beg. grovel at your feet to beg you to come back. and you wanted to see him half as desperate and needy as you were in the relationship. you wanted him miserable.
—
it’d been a week since you’d stopped talking to sukuna. his pride wouldn’t let him admit that it was killing him. watching you, the sunshine reincarnated practically thrive without him being around you.
he wanted to be happy for you, he really did but just looking at you made him realise how he practically sucked the soul out of you. and god it stung.
watching you from afar when he made a big deal about you coming back to him while you didn’t even look back. when he tried to pass by you in the hallways, you simply pretended that he wasn’t there, barely grazing past him while still avoiding him to an extent that wasn’t obvious.
and every little detail about you had him scrambling, mentally slapping himself across the face for never having noticed these things about you.
the way you bit your lip when you were nervous, the way you liked to hum when conversations grew quiet. you really were, at your core, nothing short of lovely. and sukuna of all people wouldn’t be able to break that.
but to get the girl who wouldn’t hurt a fly to slap you across the face and avoid like the plague? now that was something worth mulling over. but deep down, he was proud of you. you were going to give him a run for his money and it was going to be worth every miserable second of his godforsaken life.
—
the one instance that has sukuna nearly snapping is when he spots you at a house party. the place is filled to the brim with people, his entire group of friends all off in their own corners, and as the sea of people part he’s immediately struck with the sight of you—all dolled up in the prettiest dress, your hair done to perfection, your makeup countering the dress perfectly, your jewellery sparkling under the dim lights.
you don’t do parties, they’ve never been your scene, but here you are, right before him, clinging onto to yuki’s arm while you make your way through the crowds of people.
the moment you find yourself a seat near the bar, you’re absolutely overwhelmed, sukuna’s mates crowding around you, and with the way they seem to be eyeing you? sukuna’s all but fighting the urge to drag you away.
before he makes the ridiculous decision of approaching you to drag you away, he feels toji snake an arm around his shoulder, physically holding him in place.
“you’re the one who fucked up, man. either get it together or leave her alone, she deserves this.”
gods, you really did look stunning. and every little compliment that was thrown your way had you flushed and giggling. he had no right to take that away from you. not after the shit he pulled. he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore. it wasn’t his place. and this was the first time he actually said that to himself.
oddly enough, being anything but your boyfriend just felt so very wrong in his brain.
he either gets his act together or comes to terms with being okay with never having you in his life ever again.
—
stumbling through the hallways of the campus’ dorms, he made his way to what he thought was his room. it was a force of habit. showing up to your place when he felt like shit. you always had space for him, but he was so out of it he almost didn’t realise you didn’t want anything to do with him. well, that’s a lie. he did.
he knew alcohol made him painfully honest. it’d let him say the things you couldn’t pry out of him no matter what if he was sober.
you shouldn’t have opened the door, but a part of you really, really wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.
the second you open your door, he’s leaning on the doorframe, looking at you with half lidded eyes while he slowly makes his way inside.
“wow i didnt think that you—“
“out with it before i kick you out.”
“you’re mean, y’know?”
he grumbles, a smile gracing his lips while he just gawked at you. gosh you really never did stop being pretty. he never told you that enough, now did he?
“ill cut to the chase, y/n. i want you back.”
there was a strange undercutting edge to his voice, one that almost sounded like begging.
“and what gives you that right, huh? no, tell me sukuna, should i take you back?”
you shot back almost immediately, if he was gonna try to pull this shit on you, you sure as hell would make him work for it.
“y’know what, no. no you shouldn’t.” his voice did not waver whatsoever, right while you were still caught off guard he managed to continue,
“i hate myself for what i did to you. and i don’t know how to hold onto things without wanting to ruin them because i’m just unworthy of it all. i want to change, y/n. i really do. but if it were up to me, you should’ve slammed that door across my face and never let me back into your life because i don’t deserve even an ounce of your attention. but i want to try, i really do.”
the raw honesty in his voice, the way it shook in the slightest had you reeling. of all things you didn’t expect him to actually..admit it.
“well—at least you’re aware.”
“trust me, i am. but please, y/n, let me make it up to you.” you barely registered the way he stumbled to his knees right before you, his eyes glazed over with a thin film of tears, like one wrong move would send him weeping.
he was looking right up at you, sniffling a little, before you walked closer, sukuna immediately hugging your legs toward himself, slowly letting out the tiniest sob, while your hands made their way into his hair.
“one chance, sukuna. and don’t expect me to go easy on you.”
you could practically see the excitement radiating off of him, his smile so stupid and boyish, you’d never seen him look like that in all the time that you’d known him.
but you weren’t going to go easy on him. you needed to make him feel at least a part of the pain you felt every single time he pushed you away.
“go home sukuna, you can talk to me when you’re sober and you mean what you say.”
and he was pouting. the sukuna ryomen was pouting, teary eyed, on his knees right before you. he got back up, now towering over you, still leaning over just to appear a little less intimidating.
“i meant what i said, y/n. i’ll prove it to you, i promise you that.”
—
sukuna stumbled back to his place, immediately losing himself to a fit of sleep, right before looking around the apartment and curling into himself, finally surrounded by silence. he hated being home now. you weren’t around. you kept his place alive, it was more yours than it was ever his. and with how he was never home anymore, the emptiness was going to swallow him whole.
but he'd do this. he didn't stumble into the dorms and beg and plead for nothing.
he never thought he'd see the day where toji was right about his relationship. he fucked around, hoping to ruin it all and that's exactly what he did.
but he just couldn't help the pit that settled in his stomach every single time he saw you get hit on—of course you did, you were fucking stunning. you were charming, beautiful, funny, albeit a little shy but that just added onto what made you so very special, just so very you. he had you, right in his arms and gloriously fucked it up.
—
he started small, sitting next to you during classes again, small talk, borrowing your notes, walking by your side in the hallways. he forgot how good it felt to get to know you all over again, but he could practically feel the walls you'd built up, refusing to let him in just yet. keeping him walking on ice with every interaction, giving him sidelong glances when he said anything even remotely stupid.
but it didn't matter. if you were to cut him off, so be it. he could live with that. but what he wouldn't be able to stand was having had forced his way back into your life and getting away with how he treated you scott-free.
even if it meant started from scratch, if it meant struggling to get you to look in his direction again it'd all be worth it. but to make this work, he'd need help.
—
"so you've finally decided to get your shit together, huh?" toji snickers, the sight of sukuna with his head in his hands on his couch is nearly comical, his eyeballs evident, his hair messy while he's practically begging for help.
"please, man i'll do anything."
"we should start with how badly you fucked up." toji says almost instantly, cutting his sentence short.
"man i know i messed up i just need to know how to win her over again-"
"you have no fucking idea, ryomen. of all the people you could fuck over, you picked the girl who's practically a living angel. she trusted you with her fragile heart and you somehow stomped all over it. if you want her back, we start with whatever is up with you." sukuna grimaces, he's right. again. fuck this was bad. he knew it was bad, but drowning his sorrows in alcohol and completely avoiding even a sliver of emotion he felt. trying to bury you out of every thought he had. he was just running away, and it was starting to catch up to him.
"yeah. yeah." he sighed, resigned to his fate of having screwed up absolutely terribly.
"but i'll give you props now for actually wanting to try. but if you're gonna do this, you'll have to do it right."
"real helpful, man."
"you know her better than i do, you know exactly what she likes. don't be all sukuna about it."
"yeah, yeah i got it." gods this was going to be hard.
—
he tried to approach you softly, he could see the way you always shrunk around him when you saw him coming and it killed him.
"y/n, you know i meant what i said, right?"
"i don't know that sukuna, but i know you're trying. that's okay, i'll take that."
ouch. it stung to hear you say it out loud, but it was fair. but he could do this, this was something he could work with.
he wasn't used to making up for everything he fucked up, more used to people shutting him, which was always what he intended, but having you look at him with not scrutiny again, but with something dangerously close to forgiveness. like you were ready to let him try to fix everything.
—
patience is a virtue. and sukuna swore he could feel himself start to turn into a saint. you let him hang out around you a lot more often—much to yuki's dismay. but she knew he was changing too, after laying it down on him rather harshly, giving him graphic detail on exactly the things she'd do to him provided he fucked up again.
"you screw this up sukuna, so help me god, i'm going to snap your dick in half and shove it down your throat." she whisper shouted, dragging him away from you in the hallway, cornering him underneath the stairs.
"god—i'm serious about her i swear! i promise you could run me over if i fuck it up again, you have my word for it."
she reluctantly lets go of his ear, the one she was holding onto while threatening him.
"you may leave, but you hurt her—"
"i got it you'd have me hung by my guts."
"good."
—
time moved almost excruciatingly slowly, with sukuna trying to sober up, and you trying to let your heart soften so you'd let him in it again. but god you were terrified. he always the rough edges while you were softer, calmer, and you didn't want that ever again.
sukuna could see the way your mind was absolutely reeling every single time he was around you and it pained him.
you'd started to let him in again, only to disappear momentarily, it was this dangerous game of contemplating whether you should really let him back into your life again.
you desperately didn't want to be the girl who just allowed him to come crawling back.
but he was changing. that was even worse. you didn't think you could stay tough any longer when all you wanted to do was collapse into his arms and cry about every horrible thing that he did to your poor heart.
—
it wasn't much longer until you caved, calling him in a frezy not letting him get even a word out before, gasping out—
"sukuna do you mean it."
"slow down, y/n. what's wrong?" in the weeks he'd been trying to make it up to you, you'd never called him, and you never sounded this panicked. before you found a response, he was throwing on the nearest hoodie he could find over his body, sprinting out of his apartment to get on his bike. you might not want to see him, sure, but he'd rather you kick him out than leave you like that by yourself.
"i don't kuna, i want you back. i do, but i don't know. i don't, i can't do this-"
"slow down, baby. i'm on my way there, you're okay, alright?"
you were seated on your floor right when sukuna showed up, your door already open while he ran toward you immediately, crouching down to your level, his warmth clouding you almost instantly while you melt into his arms.
"it's okay, baby. you're doing well."
you slowly nod into his shoulders, if you weren't panicking you'd be trying to shove him away, embarrassed that you caved this easily, back in his arms with your heart in pieces just like it was before.
"i won't fuck this up again, y/n. i really won't. it's gonna be, alright, okay? we're going to be just fine."
you were barely listening to him, while he proceeded to pick you up like you weighed nothing and carried you all the way back to your bed. gods, he missed this, he missed being close to you. and it only reminded me of how he was never this gentle, while that was all you ever deserved.
when he tried to move away, you pulled him by his drawstrings, until he was laying down completely on top of you.
"don't leave…please." your voice was barely above a whisper, still buried underneath his massive form.
"i don't plan on going anywhere. i just need to make sure you want me here, y/n."
"i do. just please-" before you could continue, his arms were around your waist, he flipped over, having you lay on top of him while he hugged you like it was second nature.
the moment you looked up at him with your pretty eyes, giving him the softest peck on his lips, his palm moved to cup your face,
"may i..?"
you slowly nodded, right before his lips crashed obto yours, they were softer than you remembered, and he was gentler, his arm still wrapped around your waist while the other found their way into your hair. he finally felt like he was breathing again.
he was gentler, a lot softer, his lips moving against yours, while he slowly pulled away, looking right at you.
"i'm going to do this right this time. i'll give you everything y/n. thank you."
you nodded right before laying down on his chest again, enveloped in his tattoed arms, your head tucked under his chin while he kissed your forehead.
the two of you were laying down in shared silence, your eyelids heavy, and your heart almost beating out of your chest.
with your head rested close to sukuna's heart, you could hear the uneven thumping in his own. and you remembered that the sukuna you were once with and the man whose arms you were wrapped in now were most certainly not the same person. you really hoped he wasn’t.
and that was all that mattered. you might've been a stupid girl with a stupidly big heart. and you were never going to change that.
—
you slowly nodded to sleep in his arms, while sukuna continued to stare up at your ceiling. he never thought he'd actually make it this far again. and he would rather shoot himself in the spine than fuck this up like he does everything else. you meant everything to him. and this time around, he would treat you exactly like it.
maybe coming to terms with the fact that he deserves to hold onto things that meant something to him wasn't the worst thing in the world after all.
because if caring meant he'd get to keep you, to have you by his side. it'd all be worth it, even if it meant wanted to crawl out of his own skin at the very thought of opening his heart to you again.
Now, this started with your decision to finally write him a note back.
You sat at your desk late one evening. The dorm room was quiet except for the soft hum of your lamp. You took your time with it. Folded a plain piece of notebook paper in half. Rewrote the message three times because your handwriting annoyed you. Almost crumpled it. Almost said it in person instead. But no, he deserved this. A proper response. One that hit him right in that annoyingly soft heart he thought he was hiding.
You didn't give it to him directly. You tucked it into the pocket of your hoodie. The one he stole weeks ago and refused to give back. It still smelled like him. Citrus and warmth and that faint trace of his cologne that always made your stomach flutter. You knew he would find it eventually. You hoped he was alone when he did.
Two days later your phone buzzed with messages from him.
“you’re evil evil im losing my MIND im lying face down in my bed with my heart in my teeth”
You just sent back a simple smiley face.
:)
The note was short and honest and practically all you.
“since you’re always talking, here’s something from me<3 you make everything feel special. like i didn’t even know i was missing anything until you showed up and looked at me like that. i love the way you laugh when you think you’re being clever. i love the way you go quiet when you’re actually nervous. i love the way you always reach for me first. i love you. that’s all. – your favourite distraction”
He found it in the middle of changing. He pulled the hoodie over his head and felt something crinkle. Stopped. Pulled the note out. Stared at it. Blinked. And melted.
He fell back onto his bed like he'd been shot. Still clutching the letter in one hand while the other blindly reached for a pillow to scream into. The fabric muffled his groan. His cheeks burned hot. He read it once. Then again. Then again. Mouth pressed to the pillow. Hoodie still half on. Eyes wide and dazed and so fucking in love he couldn't breathe.
The words sank into him deep. Every line felt like your hands on his skin. Like your voice whispering against his ear in the dark. He pressed the note to his chest. Heart hammering wildly. The boy who left sticky notes everywhere. The one who hoarded your lip balm and a single sock and bracelet like treasures. Now he held this. Proof you saw him. All of him.
Later, when you came over, he didn't say anything right away. The moment you walked in, he pulled you into a kiss, not a hug. Long and deep, anchoring you. His hands cupped your face like you might disappear. Lips moving slowly at first, then hungry. Tongue sliding against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak.
You laughed into it, a little breathless. Pulling back just enough to ask. “What was that for?”
He just mumbled against your mouth. “I’m gonna frame that note. Sleep with it under my pillow. Tattoo it on my chest.”
You rolled your eyes. Fondness swelling in your chest. “You cried, didn’t you?”
“I emotionally blushed, which is worse.”
You kissed him again, just to make it better. Just to feel what it was like to be loved back that hard.
His dorm room felt smaller with the intensity between you. Clothes came off in a heated rush. Your hoodie. His shirt. The stolen one you had slipped the note into now lay discarded on the floor. He lifted you onto his bed. Hands roaming everywhere. Tracing your thighs. Gripping your hips. Pulling you close until there was nothing between you but heat and need.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered. Voice rough as he kissed down your neck. Teeth grazing your collarbone. “That note. Fuck. I read it ten times and couldn't stop.”
You arched into him. Fingers threading through his white hair. Tugging gently. “Good. You leave me filthy ones all the time. Thinking about my mouth. My thighs. Now you know how it feels.”
He groaned. Low and needy. Mouth closing over your breast. Tongue swirling until you moaned his name. His hand slid between your legs. Fingers teasing, finding you already wet and ready. He stroked slow, deliberately drawing it out until your hips bucked against his touch.
“Satoru,” you gasped. Body trembling.
He kissed lower. Down your stomach. Between your thighs. That wicked tongue replacing his fingers. Lapping at you with devotion. Like he was savoring every sound you made. Your hands fisted the sheets. Pleasure building sharp and fast. He didn't stop until you came undone. Shuddering against his mouth. His name falling from your lips like a prayer.
He moved up then. Kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on him. His cock pressed hard against your thigh. You reached down. Stroked him slow. Feeling him twitch in your hand.
“Want you,” you murmured. “Now.”
He didn’t need telling twice. He pushed inside you in one smooth thrust. Both of you moaning at the feeling. He filled you perfectly. Deep and thick. Hips rolling in a rhythm that made stars burst behind your eyes. You wrapped your legs around him. Nails digging into his back.
Every thrust carried the weight of his love. The notes. The stolen things. The way he looked at you like you were his whole world. He whispered filthy praises between kisses. How tight you felt. How perfect. How he could stay buried in you forever.
You came again. Clenching around him. Pulling him over the edge with you. He spilled deep inside. Groaning your name. Body shuddering as he held you close.
Afterward you lay tangled together. Sweat cooling on your skin. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare back. The note sat on his nightstand now. Carefully smoothed out.
“You really kept all my little things,” you said softly. Thinking of the lip balm. The sock. The bracelet tucked in his drawer.
He smiled. Pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Every single one. They remind me you're real. That you chose me. And now this note. It is going in the collection too. Right at the top.”
You laughed. Nuzzling closer. “You’re such a sap.”
“Your sap,” he corrected. Voice warm. “The one who gets emotional and cry over your words.”
The rain started outside again. Soft and steady like so many afternoons before. You thought of baby pictures and childhood albums. Of all the versions of him you loved. The goofy. The restless. The endlessly loving man beside you now.
He reached for the note. Read it once more. Cheeks tinting pink even after everything you had just done. He covered his face with a pillow for a second. Mumbling something incoherent.
You pulled the pillow away. Kissed him slow and sweet. “I meant every word.”
“I know,” he whispered. Eyes shining. “That's why I'm losing my mind over it.”
You spent the night like that. Trading kisses. Sharing stories. Laughing about the notes that started it all. The dumb ones. The sweet ones. The filthy ones that left you flustered in lectures. His hand never left your skin. Reaching for you first. Just like you wrote.
In the quiet hours he pulled you on top of him again. Slower this time. Bodies moving together in the dark. Every touch reverent. Every moan laced with love. You rode him steady. Hands on his chest. Watching his face twist with pleasure. He gripped your hips. Guiding you. Whispering how much he loved you. How you made everything feel like home.
When you both came again it was together. Waves of bliss washing over you. Collapsing into each other afterward. Breath mingling. Hearts beating in sync.
He kept the note close. Tucked under his pillow as promised. A sacred thing. A piece of your heart now living in his space. Just like all the little pieces of you he had collected before.
You knew there would be more notes. More stolen hoodies. More moments like this. Filthy and sweet and everything in between. Because he was your favorite distraction. And you were his home.
The rain kept falling. Soft against the windows. Inside his arms you drifted off. Loved...wanted. Completely his. And he was completely yours. In every version. In every little note. Forever.
the flashing lights, the big stage, the camera's flashing, people screaming your name, the cheers, the thrill of it all made your entire head spin. you felt the adrenaline the first time you got on stage, it felt like your dreams came true, like the spotlight was made for you, and you were so right. it became a motivation push for you, to push yourself and your dignity, no matter what you just wanted to make people happy, to be relatable to others, and you succeeded so well with it.
there was of course a downside to being the popstar you've come to be, others had their opinions rather it was negative or positive, someone always has some to say. rather you're to sexual, or too loud, or maybe show too much skin, your jokes never land, no matter what people are never satisfied with you or what you do. and it got exhausting to deal with most times, but you didn't let it bother you because at the end of the day, only you know how you are, so one can truly judge you. if they got offended, clearly the shoe fits, am i right?
you knew the downside of debuting your career so it just gave you an ego boost, but the nights you spent crying, wishing things could be differently, having doubts goes unnoticed, at least that's what you think for now. why you may ask? well... you're about to find out.
"baby, did you pay for the reservations at the restaurant yet?" laurence said with a sly smirk on his face, it almost sounded conceding the way he said it, god this man you thought. "laurence, you were supposed to get the reservations, yesterday, i can't do it tonight because i have to film for the music video, i told you that beforehand..." you sighed and rolled your eyes, the last thing you needed was another argument with your boyfriend so you just left it as that.
laurence, or known as Laurence baker is your boyfriend, you guys met at a fashion show during fashion week. you both thought it was love at first sight, you instantly became infatuated with him, you needed to know how he would feel on top of you, how soft his skin is, what his love languages were, you wanted to know everything about this man, and you were going to have him one way or another. but after a year things became so different, it wasn't the same love you romantized, you began to hate the person you were when you were with laurence.
"c'mon baby, i forgot okay? you know how the industry is, your man is a busy man!" he said while stepping closer to you, holding his arms out to single you to hug him. "y/n you really don't have to get upset over this, we can just reschedule i guess" you scoffed out a "unbelievable" and walked out on him, you headed to the kitchen to grab your keys before walking out the door. "i don't even know why i put up with him anymore" you sighed. as soon as you got in the car you turned on the radio. signs by tate mcrae was playing. now you're headed over to the set for the music video.
after some hours you've arrived at the set, you settled in and talked to your team and the camera crew what exactly you had in mind for this project that was in the making.
"you sure this is exactly what you want to do, y/n?" nanami said with concern in his voice, looking at you with nothing but possession in his eyes, in a bodyguard kinda way since he is your security guard and your friend. he's been looking out for you for years now, and he doesn't plan on stopping, in his words you're his favorite headache.
"of course, nana, i'll be fine i promise, besides i gotta keep the viewers on their toes!" you snickered, admiring how the nanami kento is still in protect mode. after some time you and the camera crew decided it was time to get to work, all the background characters had the time of their life being a part of the music video, it took exactly 7 hours, so after a few breaks until you were officially satisfied with this idea you had nanami ride you around back home, you loved it when nana drove you around, it made you feel like a princess, and he also didn't mind if it meant keeping an eye on you.
"this is your stop m'lady, you sure you don't want me to stay the night?" he said with a tiny pout on his lips, he barely showed emotion but with you he's always been sweet, that's how much you mean to him, and thank god that he was such a gentleman.
"yeah, i'm sure nana, you don't always have to be here for me" you say, smiling at him. you got up to open your car door but kento softly but sternly tapped your shoulder, signaling you to sit back down so he could open the door. "i know, but it's my job, and i'd be damned to let something happen to you" he got out the car and headed over to your side and opened the door for you. "at least let me take you to your doorstep, m'lady" and what he said was final because that's exactly what he did. he stayed by until he saw you walk in the house, with a final goodbye you waved at him and closed the door shut.
the first thing you see as soon as you thought you could get some peace, was a fucking mess on the floor, controllers on the ground, dirty shorts across the floor, and dirty dishes that haven't been cleaned in the last 8 hours since you've been gone. god this goddamn manchild.
"you act like a kid even though you stand six foot two." you huffed out, ready to kick this man all the way into next week, i mean who does he think he is? and did he think you were going to be the one to do all the work? "manchild" you grumble. you ended up slapping him out of his sleep because you'd be damned to clean up this hideous of a mess.
"OWWW BABE WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?" he winced, immediately jumping off the couch and laying his palm on the side of his face you slapped him with, rightfully so of course.
"why is this house a mess? i wasn't even gone that long, i expect you to at least have some urgency of being decent to a house you don't pay bills for!" you're extremely annoyed and yelling seems to be the only way to get a man to listen to you these days.
"baby, i'm sorry, i must have lost track of time me and the guys wa-" you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.
"you and the guys, are you serious? you know what, just please clean up, i'm serious laurence, don't even come in my room until this house is back to the way it was!" you stomped out of the living room to head to your room, you slammed the door shut to make a point. after a minute you took a deep breath, you were on the urge of spiraling out so you went to your drawer to put on some comfy clothes, you had on pink victoria secret pajamas and your hair was wrapped up in a bonnet. after getting cozy sat on your bed and scrolled on your Instagram because you couldn't sleep with the way how you were feeling. you scrolled for a bit until you saw a specific post. it was a post of you and laurence, man how things have changed, what happened to us? you thought in your head. guess not all love is forever, huh?
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