Gojo makes your pretty belly bulge for all his viewers ♡
୨୧ — The chat explodes when Gojo hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drags them aside.
He doesn't take them off- just stretches the soaked fabric to one side and holds it there, pinning it against your inner thigh so nothing obstructs the camera's view. His other hand slides between your legs, two fingers pressing against your slit, and then he spreads you open.
Slow. Deliberate. Like he's unwrapping something precious.
"There she is," he murmurs. The ring light catches everything- the dewy, flushed stretch of your cunt, the slick strands of arousal that glint and snap as he parts your folds wider, webbing between his fingers like honey. Your hole clenches on nothing, gummy and pathetically empty.
Heh, look at that. She's dripping already and I've barely touched her.
"See how wet she gets?" His voice is like silk, pitched for the microphone. Donations ping in a frenzy. "All these people watching and your little pussy's just weeping for it."
He keeps you spread with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance- just the tip, fat and flushed and shiny with precum. The camera catches the exact moment he nudges in... the way your gummy walls stretch and clench around the head, resisting and yielding in the same breath, that first inch sinking into wet, sucking heat.
"Nnnh-"
"Shh, I got you." He rocks forward -just barely- letting the stream see how your pussy swallows him centimeter by centimeter, that tight ring of muscle gripping his girth like it's trying to milk him already, "watch this."
He snaps his hips.
Your scream breaks apart into static. One brutal thrust buries him to the hilt, his cock punching so deep you feel it in your fucking chest- and when you look down, when the camera tilts to follow his gaze, you can see it.
The bulge.
His cock outlined against your lower belly, a thick ridge pressing up beneath your skin with every thrust. He presses his palm flat against it, feels himself moving inside you.
"Right there," he groans, grinding up into that deep spot "feel that? That's your cervix, baby. That's where I'm gonna -fuck- where I'm gonna ruin you."
And then he batters it.
His pace turns savage- hips snapping with brutal precision, that fat cock ramming your cervix over and over until your insides feel like mush. Each thrust punches a whimper out of you, your walls going soft and sloppy around him, unable to do anything but take it. The bulge in your tummy jumps with every stroke, obscene and undeniable.
"Oh god- oh god- 'Toru- c-can't -hnngh-"
"yeah you can." His voice is wrecked, strained, "and you're gonna cum while they watch."
She's getting so tight- squeezing me like she's trying to break my cock off-
The wet sounds are obscene. Your pussy squelches with each pump, arousal churning into something thicker, frothier- a white, creamy mess that clings to his shaft and oozes out around the stretched rim of your hole. It smears against his pelvis, his balls, drools in sticky rivulets down to the sheets.
"There it is," he breathes, thumb finding your clit, "there's my messy girl. You hear that? Hear how sloppy you're getting?"
Schhllk
He grinds against your battered cervix, holds there, and your orgasm crashes through you like a wave- walls clamping, legs seizing, voice cracking on a sob as your cunt creams around him in thick, milky spurts. He doesn't stop. He can't stop. Just fucks you through it, churning your release into a frothy ring at the base of his cock, the camera catching every filthy detail.
The view count ticks past thirty thousand.
His cock throbs inside your spasming cunt, and Gojo just laughs- breathless, wrecked, mean.
᭡୧ synopsis: in which your brother’s best friend, satoru gojo has spent years keeping his distance, treating you like the little sister he’s supposed to protect. but when your brother leaves town and asks him to “keep an eye on you,” the careful line he’s been walking finally starts to crack. what was meant to be an innocent visit to check on you quickly turns into something forbidden and filthy, something neither of you can walk away from anymore.
᭡୧ pairings: brother’s best friend!satoru x fem!reader
᭡୧ c. warnings: heavy yearning, heavy sexu-al tension (like super heavy!), emotional restraints, dry hum-ping, protected se-x, ti-ts play, sp-it play (?), mutual pining, did i say heavy se-xual tension? slight size kink, overstim, thigh rid-ing, we have an aftercare this time yayyyy! — word count: 7.2k+
you’ve known satoru gojo since you were twelve years old and he was fourteen, the loud, white-haired boy your older brother dragged home after school like a stray cat he refused to leave behind.
back then satoru was all gangly limbs and bright blue eyes, always stealing your snacks and letting you ride on his shoulders when your brother got tired of carrying you. the three of you became a little unite almost instantly. movie nights on the living room floor, summer afternoons at the park, late-night video games where satoru would let you win just to watch you cheer.
your brother was officially his best friend, but somewhere along the line the lines blurred.
you were never sure if satoru was your brother’s best friend or yours. he was just… satoru. the constant reminder in your life who knew how you liked your ice cream and remembered your favorite color even when you changed it every month.
ten years passed and the dynamic shifted without anyone noticing at first. you grew up, and growing up consisted of changes.
satoru grew taller, broader, more dangerously handsome with that lazy grin that made girls at school blush. but you stayed the little sister in everyone’s eyes, the one who tagged along behind her brother and his best friend, the one who fell asleep on the couch between them during horror movies, the one satoru would tuck a blanket over with gentle hands while your brother snored on the other side.
everyone else thought like that but satoru. satoru noticed the changes. he noticed the way your legs got longer, the way your laugh got softer and feminine, the way your body filled out in ways that made his throat tight and his thoughts guilty. he told himself it was nothing. you were his best friend’s little sister, which meant you’re off-limits. and by off-limits, you’re a forbidden fruit he wasn’t allowed to even look at for too long or he would rot you with his dirty thoughts.
nobody sensed how he started pulling away in small ways after sometime. longer gaps between visits, fewer sleepovers, more excuses about being busy with college and then with work. but he never stayed away completely. satoru couldn’t.
every time he saw you he felt that familiar pull, the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him like he hung the moon for you. the way his cock would twitch traitorously when you wore those tiny shorts around the house in the summer every time he came over and god, he hated himself for it because right after he’s done, he would go home after and jerk off in the shower with his jaw clenched, whispering your name like a curse while hot water beat down on his back, telling himself it was the last time.
it was never the last time.
now you’re twenty-two and he’s twenty-eight. your brother still treats you like the kid who used to beg for piggyback rides. satoru still calls you “boogers” sometimes, but the word tastes bitter on his tongue now.
the three of you still hang out, still have movie nights from time to time since satoru could never say no to your asking, he joins your family and still act like nothing has changed. but everything has. satoru can barely look at you without feeling the weight of all those years of wanting. he watches the way you move around the kitchen in your sleep shorts when you’re getting snacks ready for the movies, the way your t-shirt rides up when you reach for something on the top shelf, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes and rest your head on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
every innocent touch feels like torture. every time your thigh brushes his on the couch he has to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and show you exactly what you do to him.
this time your brother is out of town this weekend for a work trip he couldn’t get out of.
he left satoru with the spare key and the casual instruction to “keep an eye on her.” satoru laughed it off on the phone, responding with a choked ‘yeah, ‘course, i got you man.’ but the second he hung up his mind was already spinning. he told himself he’d just check in once, maybe bring some takeout, make sure you weren’t lonely and nothing more.
but fuck was he wrong, cause satoru only lasted exactly four hours before your text came through:
“movie night? the new horror one just dropped. brother’s gone so no one to complain about the jump scares :)”
he stared at the message for ten full minutes. then that’s when he grabbed his keys, all thoughts starting to get pumped to his dick.
when he knocks on your door it’s a little after ten. you open it wearing your usual oversized, small ribbons printed t-shirt and those damn cotton shorts that have haunted his dreams for years. your skin is soft under the radiating light from the porch, face bare, and you smile at him like he’s the best part of your night.
shit. satoru feels his stomach drop.
“hey, you came,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is casual, warm, the kind of voice that used to make him feel safe and now makes his cock stir in his sweatpants.
“couldn’t let you watch horror alone,” he replies, forcing that tired, loose grin. he holds up the bag of snacks like a peace offering. “brought the good stuff.”
you laugh and it hits him straight in the chest. he follows you to the living room, trying not to stare at the way the hem of your shorts teases him in front of him. the fabric riding up with every step. the tv is already on, lights dimmed, blankets piled on the couch. you settle in your usual spot, patting the cushion beside you. satoru sits, puts the snacks down onto the coffee table, leaving what he hopes is a respectful distance, but you immediately scoot closer, tucking your legs under you and leaning your head against his shoulder like always.
maybe your nickname was not supposed to be boogers but dumbass cause you don’t seem to take sign on how you’re making it hard for him to stay normal and sane. or so he thought.
the movie starts. the opening credits roll. satoru tries to focus on the screen. he really does. but all he can feel is the warmth of your body against his side, the soft press of your bare thigh against his, the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo. his hand rests on the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder when he shifts.
every innocent touch feels loaded tonight. the house is too quiet without your brother’s loud commentary. it’s just you and him and years of unspoken tension hanging heavy in the dark.
halfway through the first act you stretch, arms lifting above your head, shirt riding up to show a strip of soft stomach. satoru’s eyes flick down before he can stop them, fingers twitching not to touch you and when you settle again your leg presses fully against his. he doesn’t move away. instead his fingers brush your shoulder again, slower this time, thumb stroking once along your skin.
“cold?” he asks, voice quieter than he means.
you shake your head, tilting your face up to look at him. your eyes are soft in the glow of the tv. “no. just getting comfortable.”
he swallows hard. his hand drops from the couch to rest lightly on your upper arm, thumb still stroking slow circles. the touch is supposed to be casual but it isn’t. at least that’s what satoru knows.
the movie keeps playing but the man sitting next to you is not really watching anymore. the air between you feels thicker, warmer, charged with everything you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist for years.
satoru’s jaw clenches. he can feel his cock starting to thicken in his sweatpants, the traitorous heat building low in his gut. he tells himself to stop. he tells himself you’re his best friend’s little sister. he tells himself a lot of things.
you shift again, turning slightly so your knee brushes his thigh. and lord knows how he’s struggling not to make a sound, especially when your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak.
“satoru?”
he looks down at you, blue eyes dark in the low light. “yeah?”
you bite your lip, just for a second, and the small movement sends another rush of blood straight to his cock.
“you’ve been really quiet tonight.”
fuck.
he forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “am i?” he asks. “just focused on the movie.” his reply doesn’t satisfy you and you don’t look convinced so your hand rests lightly on his chest, right over his heart. “liar.” you call him out.
liar…
the sting of the word is heavy because satoru is not the only one suffering alone here, you’re a liar as well. and you’re pretending none of this is eating you alive when that’s exactly how it’s been for you since satoru came to your house.
you’ve been stiff as a board since the moment you sat down, even though you’re trying so hard to act normal. you can feel it in the way his shoulder has gone tight under your cheek, the way his breathing isn’t quite as steady as usual, the way his long fingers keep flexing against the couch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
the tv flickers soft blue light across both of you, painting shadows over his sharp jaw and the faint flush creeping up his neck, but you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him, noticing every detail.
your hand stays light on his chest, right over his heart, and you can feel how fast it’s beating under your palm. thump-thump-thump, way too quick for someone who’s supposedly just chilling on the couch. you shift a little closer, letting your bare thigh press more firmly against his — testing water — and that’s when you notice it full.
the soft, heavy bulge under the dark blue-black sweatpants he’s wearing. it’s not fully hard yet, but it’s definitely there, thickening slowly against the loose fabric, the outline just visible every time the tv screen flashes brighter. your stomach flips, heat pooling low between your legs because you did that. you’re doing that to him right now, just by sitting here in your tiny shorts with your head on his shoulder like you always have.
the tension sits thick and heavy between you, wrapping around every small movement. every time you breathe, your chest brushes his arm.
every time he shifts, his thigh presses harder against yours. the air feels warmer than it should, like the room itself is holding its breath along with both of you. you can smell his cologne mixed with the faint mint from his gum, and underneath it all something warmer, something that makes your mouth water.
satoru’s hand on your upper arm hasn’t stopped moving. his thumb keeps stroking those slow, careful circles, but now each pass feels heavier, more deliberate, like he’s fighting the urge to slide his whole palm down your skin.
you tilt your head up a little more, letting your breath fan across the side of his neck. his jaw clenches. you watch the muscle jump, watch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. the bulge in his sweatpants twitches again, growing thicker, the fabric starting to tent just enough that you can see the clear shape of him.
your own body reacts instantly, a warm rush between your thighs, your nipples tightening under the thin t-shirt. you’re suddenly aware of how little you’re wearing, how your shorts exposed so much skin the bottom curve of your ass is almost showing, how your shirt keeps slipping off one shoulder no matter how many times you fix it.
satoru’s fingers tighten on your arm for half a second before he forces them to relax. his breathing has gone shallow. you can feel the heat pouring off him, the way his thigh muscles are locked tight under your leg. the movie keeps playing, some girl screaming on screen, but none of you flinch and the only sound that matters is the quiet hitch in his breath when your knee accidentally nudges higher up his leg, brushing right against the side of that growing bulge.
he doesn’t pull away. he stays perfectly still, like moving even an inch might break whatever fragile control he has left.
you bite your lip, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. the flush on your neck is spreading, warm and prickly, and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the small of your back. you feel sticky and hot and aching, and all you’ve done is sit here with your head on his shoulder.
the years of quiet ‘wanting’ press in harder tonight, sharper because your brother isn’t here to act as a buffer. it’s just you and satoru and the heavy, suffocating knowledge that you’re both thinking about the same thing.
satoru clears his throat suddenly, the sound rough and forced. he shifts, moving his arm from around you, and stands up in one quick motion. his sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is now, the thick outline pressing obviously against the front, the fabric stretched tight. he keeps his back half-turned to you like that will somehow fix it.
“uh… i need some water,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “or a coke. something cold.”
you sit up slowly, fixing your shirt so it covers your shoulder again, but it doesn’t help much. your skin feels too warm, a light sheen of sweat already making the back of your neck sticky. your cheeks are flushed, you can feel the heat in them, and between your legs you’re starting to get embarrassingly wet, the thin cotton of your panties clinging to you. you swallow, trying to sound normal even though your voice comes out a little breathy.
“oh yeah, okay. it’s in the fridge. you know your way around.”
satoru nods once, still not fully facing you, and heads toward the kitchen. his shoulders are stiff, steps a little too deliberate, like he’s forcing himself to put distance between you. you stay on the couch, legs pressed together, heart still racing and satoru disappears into the kitchen.
you stay on the couch, legs pressed tight together, trying to calm the flutter between your thighs. the movie is still playing but the sound feels distant, like it’s happening in another room. you can hear him open the fridge, the soft clink of a can, the quiet hiss when he cracks it open. a few seconds later he walks back in, coke in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to shake something off.
he’s too distracted to consider bringing you one.
he looks at you for a long moment before he sits down again, this time leaving a little more space between your bodies but it doesn’t help.
the air still feels charged, heavy with everything neither of you has said out loud. you notice the way his sweatpants still sit a little awkwardly, the thick line of his cock not fully softened, pressing against the fabric every time he shifts, manspread awkwardly.
your own skin is warm and sticky, a faint sheen of sweat on your neck and between your breasts, your nipples tight and sensitive under the thin t-shirt.
satoru takes a long sip of the coke, throat working, then sets the can on the coffee table. when he leans back against the couch his arm brushes yours again, and this time he doesn’t pull away. his fingers find your shoulder once more, but instead of the casual thumb strokes from before, his whole palm settles there, warm and heavy.
it seems he’s calmed a bit.. which means you’re the one who’s suffering hundred percent.
“you okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
you nod, but it feels like a lie. “yeah… just warm in here.”
his eyes flick down to the flushed skin of your neck, then lower to where your shirt has slipped off your shoulder again. he doesn’t say anything, but his thumb starts brushing the bare skin near your collarbone. the touch is slow, almost absent, but it sends heat straight down your spine. you shift like you’re under a spell without thinking, your bare thigh sliding against his again, and this time your knee nudges right against the side of his cock through the sweatpants.
satoru inhales sharply. his hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, stopping at your wrist. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart is racing.
“you’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“so are you,” you whisper back.
the only light flickering on both of you is the glow from the tv, casting soft blue and white across both of you. satoru turns his head to look at you fully, blue eyes dark and conflicted, pupils blown wide as if he’s high. his free hand comes up, hesitating for half a second before he cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“this is a bad idea,” he says, eyes dancing over your lips but he doesn’t sound convinced. his voice is thick, breath warm against your mouth.
“then why does it feel so good?” you have no idea how words are forming in your mouth when your brain disconnected from your tongue a long time ago, and the only option you have is leaning into his touch.
he lets out a quiet, broken sound, half groan, half sigh. his thumb presses a little harder against your lip, parting it slightly. you part your lips more, letting the tip of his thumb slip just inside, brushing against your tongue. satoru’s eyes flutter for a second, jaw tight.
“fuck… you’re killing me.”
you suck gently on his thumb, just enough to make his breath hitch. his other hand slides down to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like he’s anchoring himself. the tension snaps slowly, like a rubber band stretching thinner and thinner until it finally gives.
satoru pulls his thumb from your mouth with a wet sound and replaces it with his lips. the kiss starts soft, almost careful, lips sliding together warm and slow. but the second you make a small needy sound in the back of your throat he deepens it, tongue licking into your mouth, hot and hungry. years of holding back pour into that kiss, all the stolen glances, all the guilty nights in the shower, all the times he told himself no.
his hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you sideways until you’re straddling one of his thick thighs. the moment your core settles over the hard muscle you both moan quietly into the kiss. your soaked panties press right against his leg, the thin cotton already clinging to your folds from how wet you are. satoru’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you into a slow, rolling grind.
you start moving. slow, deliberate rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the firm muscle of his thigh. every pass makes the fabric of your shorts and panties rub against you, the friction hot and slick and perfect. each roll pushes more wetness out of you, soaking the cotton until it clings transparently to your pussy. satoru groans low in his chest when he feels the damp heat spreading across his thigh, his cock twitching hard in his sweatpants, the thick head nudging against your inner thigh with every grind.
he breaks the kiss with a wet sound, lips shiny, breathing ragged. his mouth trails down your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin, then lower, until his lips brush over your collarbone. when he reaches your chest he doesn’t push your shirt up. instead he closes his mouth around one of your pebbled nipples right through the thin fabric.
the sensation is immediate and filthy. his tongue swirls slow and heavy over the stiff peak, soaking the cotton instantly. warm spit seeps through the material, making it cling to your breast, turning the white fabric translucent.
he sucks gently at first, then harder, pulling your nipple deeper into his mouth while his tongue flicks fast and wet. the wet patch grows, dark and shiny, the outline of your hard nipple completely visible through the soaked shirt. every pull of his mouth sends sharp sparks straight to your clit, making your hips roll faster against his thigh.
“mmh… fuck,” he groans against your chest, the vibration traveling through the damp fabric. “look at you. letting me cover you with my spit. your body’s so fucking readyfor me already, yeah?”
he switches to the other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. more drool collects from the corners of his lips, smearing down the front of your shirt in shiny trails, soaking the fabric until both your tits are glistening and see-through. the cool air hits the wet patches and makes your nipples ache even more, stiff and sensitive under his relentless mouth. he keeps sucking noisily, alternating between slow, deep pulls and quick flicks of his tongue, you could swear his spit is probably dripping down your stomach now, making the front of your shirt stick to your skin.
you’re grinding harder, hips rolling in needy little circles, clit dragging over his thigh with every movement. the friction is slick and constant, your soaked panties sliding against the hard muscle, the wet sounds of fabric rubbing together mixing with the filthy noises his mouth makes on your chest. your hands are in his white hair, tugging gently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from your lips every time he sucks particularly hard.
satoru’s cock is throbbing visibly in his sweatpants, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your inner thigh, leaking enough that a small dark spot has formed at the front. every time you grind forward the head of his cock nudges closer to your core, teasing you both with how close he is to where you both desperately want him to be.
he pulls back just enough to look at the mess he’s made. your shirt is completely ruined, plastered transparently to your tits, nipples dark and shiny with his spit, little droplets still sliding down your stomach. his eyes are heavy-lidded, breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet.
“so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “y’know how i’ve been dreaming about marking you up like this for years? look how filthy i got you… your brother will fuck me up.”
he leans in again, mouth latching back onto your nipple through the drenched fabric, sucking harder while his hands grip your ass tighter, helping you grind faster against him. the wet, messy sounds fill the room — his mouth sucking noisily, your slick panties sliding over his thigh, both of you breathing hard and shaky.
the tension is thick and suffocating, every slow grind and every wet kiss pushing you both closer to the edge without either of you saying it out loud yet.
after what feels like euphorically forever, satoru pulls back from your chest with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy as he looks at the absolute mess he’s made of your shirt.
his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling fast under his hoodie, and for a second he just stares at you like he can’t believe this is real. then his hand slips down, fingers dipping into the pocket of his sweatpants, and he pulls out a small foil packet. the condom glints under the dim light, and you raise a brow, lips parting in quiet surprise.
he catches the look and just shrugs, a lazy, almost sheepish tilt of his shoulders, causing your cheeks flushing darker. “had to,” he mutters, voice low and rough, like the words are being dragged out of him. “couldn’t risk it. not with you.”
you let out a soft, cheeky laugh, the sound breathy and teasing even though your heart is hammering. “you’ve always wanted to fuck me, huh?”
satoru’s brows knit together instantly, that familiar stern little frown pulling at his face, but his eyes stay dark and hungry. “that’s a vulgar word, boogers,” he says, the nickname slipping out like habit, but there’s no real bite to it. he leans in and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the tip of your nose, lips brushing there gently before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “i want to make you feel good. that’s all.”
you groan, half playful, half frustrated, and swat your hand lightly against his chest. “stop calling me boogers, toru. seriously!”
he just hums, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slide to your hips. he helps lift you a little higher on your knees, giving himself room, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. they pool around his calves, leaving his thick cock springing free, heavy and flushed, the head already glistening.
he tears the foil packet open with his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room, and the sweet strawberry scent of the condom fills the small space between your bodies, fruity and almost too innocent for how filthy this feels.
satoru rolls it down his girthy tip first, jaw tightening as the latex stretches over him. a soft, broken whimper slips out of him when the cool material slides along his sensitive head, his hips twitching once before he rolls it all the way to the base with steady fingers. the condom sits snug, shiny and strawberry-sweet, the faint pink tint of it catching the tv light. he looks up at you then, eyes dark and solemn, waiting.
his hands move to your shorts and panties next, hooking into the waistband and sliding them down your thighs together in one slow tug.
you lift your hips to help, and the soaked fabric peels away from your pussy with a wet sound, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. he doesn’t stop there. his fingers catch the hem of your spit-drenched shirt and peel it up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. now you’re completely naked in his lap, skin flushed and glowing under the flickering light, tits still shiny with his dirty work, pussy glistening and swollen from all the grinding.
satoru is still mostly dressed, only his hoodie on, sweatpants and briefs shoved down to his calves, the contrast making everything feel even unholy. he licks a bold stripe across his palm, tongue dragging slow and wet, then reaches between you and swipes the slick hand over your folds. the touch is warm and deliberate, fingers spreading your wetness, thumb brushing your clit once before he grips the base of his cock and guides the thick, condom-covered head to your entrance.
he presses in slow, so slow, the blunt tip stretching you open inch by careful inch. his brows knit tight with concentration, eyes locked on your face, watching for any flicker of pain or discomfort. you feel every thick ridge as he sinks deeper, the stretch burning sweet and full, your walls fluttering around him.
your eyes start to haze, lashes fluttering, jaw going slack as the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him hits you. your breathing stutters, lips parted on a silent gasp, completely detached for a moment while your body adjusts to the heavy, girthy length pushing inside.
satoru knew you were small compared to him but never did he think you’d be struggling to fit his fat cock in your tight cunt this much.
satoru stays perfectly still once he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, breathing hard through his nose. his hands grip your waist tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your skin as he waits, watching the way your eyes glaze over and your jaw hangs open. the strawberry scent mixes with the sharp smell of your arousal, the room quiet except for the low hum of the credit scene of the horror movie and the sound of both of you trying to breathe through the intensity.
“can i move?” he asks, voice low and calculated, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment. his brows are still knitted, waiting for any sign from you.
you can’t find words right away. instead you just tap his shoulder once, twice, a small, mute signal that you’re okay, that you want this. satoru exhales shakily, relief and hunger mixing in the sound, and he starts to move.
at first it’s slow, careful rolls of his hips that drag his thick cock along your walls, the stretch burning so good it makes your breath hitch. you start grinding down to meet him, hips rolling in small, needy circles, your slick coating the base of his cock and smearing messily over the soft, dark trail of hair that runs from his navel down to where he disappears inside you. every grind leaves a shiny trail of your wetness glistening on his skin, the wet sounds squelching in the quiet room.
you’re vocal in little bursts, whispers of his name slipping out between shaky breaths. “satoru… toru…” the words are breathy, almost reverent, filling the living room like a secret. your hands slide up his hoodie, fingers digging into his chest as you grind harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the way he fills you so completely.
“too big.. you’re– toru, fuuuck,” you cry out.
satoru leans back against the couch, arms dropping to his sides for a moment, face going almost numb with pleasure. his blue eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, white hair messy and falling into his face as he watches you ride him. he looks completely under your spell, like the sight of you naked and grinding on his cock has short-circuited his brain. the curve of his cock jerks inside you when you desperately grab his hand and bring it to your tits, pressing his palm against the soft, post spit-slick flesh.
that seems to snap him back. his face shifts from dazed to focused in an instant, intention clear in the way his jaw tightens. he wants to make you feel good. that’s all he cares about right now.
“i got you, yeah? ‘m here.”
he braces himself, planting his heels firmly on the floor, one arm wrapping tight around your hips while the other hand stays on your breast, fingers tweaking and rolling your nipple between them. then he starts fucking up into you. the first thrust is deep and powerful, hips snapping up so his cock drives into you harder, the angle perfect, the thick head rubbing right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark.
“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked but steady, focused entirely on you. “feel good? tell me if it’s too much.”
he sets a rhythm, slow at first but building, each upward thrust meeting your downward grind, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. his arm around your hips keeps you steady, guiding you, while his fingers keep playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging just enough to send sparks straight to your clit. every time he bottoms out you whimper his name again, softer, breathier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock, making everything messy and shiny.
satoru’s eyes never leave your face. he watches every twitch of your expression, every time your lips part on a moan, every time your eyes flutter. his whole focus is on you, on making sure every thrust feels perfect, on drawing out those little whispers of his name until they turn into broken cries. he fucks up into you with controlled power, the condom sliding slickly inside your soaked pussy, sweat mixing with the sharp smell of sex.
he leans forward slightly, mouth finding your other nipple again, sucking it into his mouth through the remnants of dried spit still on your skin, tongue swirling while he keeps thrusting. the dual sensation — his cock dragging inside you and his mouth on your breast — makes your back arch, a louder moan spilling out this time.
“good girl,” he breathes against your wet skin, voice low and praising. “taking me so well. just let me make you feel good, yeah? that’s all i want.”
his hips keep snapping up, steady and deep, the arm around your waist holding you down so you take every inch while his fingers keep working your nipple and his mouth keeps sucking the other. the living room fills with the wet sounds of him fucking into you, your soft whispers of his name, and the heavy breathing of two people who have waited years for this exact moment.
satoru keeps that steady, deep rhythm, hips rolling up into you with controlled power while his mouth stays busy on your tits.
every upward thrust drags his thick, condom-covered cock along your walls, the head catching perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his arm around your waist holds you down on his cock, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder, messier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock until the dark hair glistens with it.
he switches between sucking one nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, tongue swirling slow and wet, spit dripping down your chest in shiny trails that catch the flickering tv light.
you’re riding him but barely, your hips grinding in small, desperate circles while he does most of the work, fucking up into you with deep, purposeful strokes that make your breath hitch every single time he bottoms out. your hands clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric as soft, broken whispers of his name keep slipping out — “toru… satoru…” — the fruity scent of the condom mixes with the sharp smell of sex, filling the dark living room until it’s all you can breathe.
your legs start to twitch first. the muscles in your thighs quiver against his sides, small, uncontrollable tremors that travel down to your calves.
satoru notices immediately. his eyes flick down, watching the way your knees shake beside his hips, the subtle way your body is starting to tighten and flutter around him. a low, knowing hum vibrates in his chest and he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under the knee closest to him. with a smooth, effortless motion he hooks it up and presses it toward your chest, folding you open even wider while you’re still on top of him.
the new angle spreads you so much more, your pussy stretching tighter around his cock, the head dragging harder against that perfect spot with every thrust.
you gasp sharply, the sound cracking in the back of your throat as the deeper penetration hits you all at once. satoru’s other arm stays banded around your waist, holding you steady, and now he’s fully in control even though you’re on top. he fucks up into you with stronger, deeper strokes, hips snapping with purpose, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy taking him echoing louder in the quiet room.
“c’mon, you’re gonna bless me, baby?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and focused. “come on my cock, there you go. you just gotta feel it.”
your riding turns sloppy, hips stuttering as the pressure builds fast and overwhelming. your legs tremble harder, the one he’s holding to your chest shaking visibly. your walls start to flutter and clench around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, your slick gushing out around the base of his cock with every thrust. satoru groans low when he feels it, but he doesn’t slow down. he keeps driving up into you, steady and relentless, the arm under your knee keeping you spread wide and open for him.
you come hard.
your whole body folds forward suddenly, chest pressing against his as a broken, whining cry tears from your throat, your mouth is open and breathing straight into his mouth. your pussy clamps down around his cock in strong, pulsing waves, gushing wet and hot around him even through the condom. tears slip down your flushed cheeks, eyes squeezing shut while you sob his name in soft, overwhelmed whimpers — “toru… fuck, toru…” — your hips jerking and twitching uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you.
satoru keeps fucking you through it, slower now but still deep, drawing out every pulse and every shaky sob. his hand on your waist rubs soothing circles while the other keeps your leg folded to your chest, holding you open so he can feel every flutter and gush. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your wet cheek, murmuring quiet praise against your skin as you tremble and cry in his lap, completely spent and folded against him.
tsatoru holds you close through the last trembling waves of your orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. he presses gentle kisses to your damp temple then your flushed cheek, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back while you come down.
“i’m.. fuck, you’re so good to me.” the way he grunts those words out shows you he’s not done yet.
his grip tightens on your waist and under your knee, and he starts fucking up into you again — deeper than you thought was possible. each thrust is slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving his thick cock so far inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
the new angle has the head of his cock pressing right against that spot with every upward snap of his hips, stretching you open wider, filling you fuller than you’ve ever been filled. the wet, filthy sounds of him plunging deep into your soaked pussy echo in the quiet living room, your slick leaking out around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls with every thrust.
“shit… so deep,” he groans against your ear, voice wrecked and low. “can you feel me, baby? feel how deep i’m getting? that’s it… take every inch.”
he fucks you with long, grinding strokes, hips rolling up hard and steady, the arm under your knee keeping you folded and spread so he can bury himself to the hilt every single time. your body jolts with each thrust, tits bouncing against his chest, soft cries and whimpers spilling from your mouth as the overstimulation turns into another building wave of pleasure.
satoru’s breathing grows ragged, his thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin getting louder as he chases his own release.
“gonna come,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and hazy. “gonna fill you up… fuck, you feel too good.”
he drives in deep one last time, hips stuttering as he buries himself as far as he can go.
“fuuuck,” a low, broken groan tears from his throat as he comes hard, cock pulsing thick and hot inside the condom while he grinds against you, drawing out every last spurt. his whole body trembles under you, arms locked tight around your frame as he empties himself, the strawberry-scented latex stretching with every heavy pulse.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky breathing and his quiet groans. he stays buried deep inside you, holding you close, the leg he had hooked to your chest gently lowered back down so you can relax against him. slowly, carefully, he pulls out, tying off the condom and setting it aside before he gathers you fully into his arms.
satoru shifts so you’re both lying on the couch, your smaller body draped over his chest, his hoodie soft against your bare skin. he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch (you didn’t notice that was there from the beginning.) over both of you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. one hand strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
“you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft and rough at the same time. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips — gentle, lingering kisses that feel like apologies and promises all at once. “did i hurt you? was it too much?”
you shake your head against his chest, still catching your breath, and he hums in quiet relief. he keeps touching you. slow strokes along your spine, gentle kisses to your shoulder, his palm rubbing warm circles over your lower back where you’re still a little sore. every touch is careful, tender, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel in his arms now that the line has finally been crossed.
and now that his time with you is very limited. by limited:
“your brother told me to keep an eye on you,” the topic feels heavy already when he says it after a while, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. his fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “if this is what it takes… so be it.”
so be the risk of making the person, his person whom he lov—
realization hits and splashes on satoru like a bucket filled with water and ice. satoru loves. satoru loves you. he is in love, satoru loves someone who is a very much forbidden person.
he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully, the thought of your brother finding what he did to you can be stressed over for later, what matters now is your naked body tucked safely against his mostly-clothed one. the tv is still playing a new trailer for next movie faintly in the background, completely ignored.
satoru holds you like that for a long time — warm, steady, protective — pressing soft kisses to wherever his lips can reach, murmuring quiet praises and gentle nonsense until your breathing evens out and your eyes start to drift shut.
“toru, do you think this is okay?” your voice is muffled with how you’re both tangled together. he doesn’t reply at first so you take it as a sign to continue. “what are we gonna do after this? what if my brot—”
“i’ve got you,” he cuts you off with a whisper against your hair, one last kiss pressed to the top of your head. “always have and nothing will happen, just take some rest and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
he can feel your body relaxing the moment he says that and satoru smiles a little, his heart swelling of fonding.
the living room feels smaller and warmer now, the weight of years of tension finally settling into something softer, something real, as satoru keeps holding you close under the blanket, his hand never stopping its gentle strokes along your back before he himself is dozing off from reality.
feeling too tired from his post nut session his brain is blank.
guys am i made for long fics or should i just stick to my regular short drabbles/blurbs? I WANT TO KNOW!
not your fault your ex is so hot! in every party you see each other, in every work meeting, even walking on the street — he looks sexier every day.
“fucking whore, look at this dress” his hips slam against your butt, the skin against skin blending with your moans and his low growls. “i’d be a fool to let you go completely”
big fingers dig into your flesh, while yours tighten around the sink. you glare at him through the mirror before making your best attempt to speak “call me a whore again and i’ll castrate you”
tetsuro grins, hand sneaking and wrapping around your neck to make you look at the mirror. “then what are you, huh? my slutty kitten. that’s what you’ll always be. attending to my fucking birthday party with my girlfriend right there?” he chuckles darkly, cock splitting you in half as he pounces roughly into you, bottoming out. “bold move”
“bokuto invited me, is not my shit that your own friends know you’re still whipped” you bite back, squeezing around his fat dick. your walls hug him tightly and he moans, tilting his head back.
“still squeezing me like this…” he snorts, then leans in to whisper against your ear. “whipped for you? please, baby, both of us know better. lord save me to be there all over again”
you roll your eyes, annoyed and in pleasure. his hand tightens around your neck and you squeeze him impossibly, “yet you actually are buried inside me”
“because your pussy’s too damn good to forget— holly fuck!“ he pants, eyes shut, “y’re milking me, babe”
“fill it up, then” you moan, back arching and sucking his fingers when he pushes two into your mouth. your mind goes blank when his cum floods into you, your cunt welcoming him back. your own ecstasy comes a few thrusts after, leaving both of you panting. he pulls out, smacks your ass and starts getting dressed, so do you.
“wasn’t bad” you shrug, fixing your hair. he scoffs and glares playfully, “you moaned like a hocker in heat”
“hope your sweet girlfriend didn’t hear me” you glare back, whispering against his ear and leaving the room. he looks at the door with his annoyingly hot smirk, knowing that the only bond that remains between you two is these little and perfect sex sessions.
cw: smut, cheating, right person but wrong time, fingering, cum licking, f!reader, all characters are 18+, MDNI
a/n: I do not in any way, shape, or form, condone cheating. enjoy this fic <3 more stuff coming out soon :)
You shiver, feeling the cold metal of his wedding ring kiss your flushed skin. Thick digits thrust into your slobbering pussy as he curls into your sweet spot. Your juices dripping, coating his fingers in your sweet nectar as he makes a mess out of your pussy.
Cold silver against your hot skin as you grip the bathroom counter you're perched on, his minty breath fanning your blushing cheeks as you try to keep quiet, swallowing your pretty moans of pleasure as you bite your quivering lip.
Pussy clenching on his skilled fingers, your eyes roll to the back of your skull, each thrust of his digits bringing you closer to the brink of pleasure. Lips pressing wet kisses against the span of your neck, his thumb slips between your wet folds, latching on to your sensitive bud, rubbing tight circles against your clit as you squirm.
Throwing your head back in pleasure, you bring a hand to your mouth, trying to keep quiet as his pace increases, your legs quivering and pussy clenching impossibly tight on his fingers. Your cum coats his fingers as you reach your peak, watching through lidded eyes as his eager tongue darts out, cleaning his cream covered fingers as he licks away at your cum.
All while his wife, waiting outside the door, was left wondering why he was taking so long to get ready.
── GOJO, GETO, nanami, TOJI, SUKUNA, choso, TAKUMA, EREN YEAGER, jean kirstein, levi, ERWIN SMITH, KANTO MANJI MIKEY, BONTEN SANZU, BONTEN RINDOU, bonten ran, HANMA, KISAKI, al haitham, KAMISATO AYATO, TARTAGLIA, zhongli, diluc, SAE ITOSHI, SHINDOU RYUSEI, KAISER, alexis ness, EITA OTOYA (lol) + your faves
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 18+ Mdni.. Frat!gojo.. P in V.. finishing inside.. manipulation?? (kinda)
“C’mon, sweet girl, gimme what I want,” the campus’s frat cooed in your ear, his words almost sounding degrading.
The way he has your legs spread open, hand on the back of your thighs, pressing them to your chest in a mating press.
A couple of weeks back, you let him have your virginity that he begged for, and now he wants to be the first person to cum inside of you.
To say he was obsessed with your pussy was an understatement. He couldn’t get enough. Each time he saw your pretty ass walking around campus, he’d find a way to get in your pants. Whether it be sneaking into your lectures and slipping his hand under your skirt or fucking you in the staff bathroom.
The man didn’t care.
“Sa–toruu–”
“Yes, baby,'m right here,” he grunts in your ear, snapping his hips against yours. Obscene and wet sounds echo in the dimly lit room. He wasn’t gentle, no. Once he heard you beg to be rougher, and since that day, he hasn’t been sweet or soft with you. You weren’t complaining, you loved the back pain that came alongside his fat cock being inside of you.
Satoru’s eyes track the bounce of your tits, being hypnotized by the round, soft anatomy.
“‘T-toru–” your words broke, face heating up under his lustful leer.
“My love,” he matches your tone, smirking at your reaction, “shy?”
You nod, making him chuckle, “No need to be shy, pretty girl, you look gorgeous struggling to take my cock.”
This pervert and his perverted mouth, he always said things to make you crumble. He pistons his hips against your swollen pussy. Pulling out and slamming back in, not caring for the poor people a room over who will have to hear this.
Sweat glistens on his body, trailing down his neck, your nails digging into his back, arms tightly wrapped around those broad shoulders .
The man’s white hair stuck to his forehead from the vigorous cardio of pounding you into the mattress until you were nothing but a mess for him.
“Is my baby close? I can feel your pussy clenching,” he says against your ear, licking down your neck to your collarbones before burying his face in your tits.
Knuckles flexing over your trembling thighs, similar to his biceps that flexed with each brutal thrust, bringing you closer to the edge.
“Close– I-I’m close toru!”
“Fucking knew it,” he grins, “I know your body like the back of my hand,” he mumbled against your skin. Your thighs and legs shook, placing them on his shoulders, for him to ram himself deeper and harder inside of you. You can feel him inside your heart. Was that a stretch? Not with his monstrous size, no.
“Look at how you adapt to my size, look at your pretty pussy, baby.” His lips hover over yours, drinking in each filthy sound that leaves your mouth, chasing after more.
He sped up, nearly folding your body in half, hand reaching down to rub your clit, not that you couldn’t cum hands free, but the extra pleasure made the orgasm much more rewarding.
“Can I cum inside you, baby?” he asks, breathing heavy.
“N-noo, Satoru! Don’t cum in–”
“Please, only this once, pleasepleasepleaseee, I’ll fuck you whenever you want, I’ll do whatever, just let me fill your pussy up with my cum,” he whined like a child begging for candy, “It’ll feel really good, baby, I promiseeee, you’ll feel soo good and full and–”
“Fine! Fine– just hurry, please, wanna cum-” you choke on your words, making him grin.
“Thank you, baby,” he wasn’t expecting a reply, nor did he get one, not when the man sped up, almost knocking you into your next life. “That’s it, that’s it, almost there,” the raspy voice was back in your ear, talking you through it, just like you liked it.
Your pussy clamps and tightens around him like a noose, sucking his cock in, “there we go, cum for me, pretty girl, make a mess for the only guy who knows the way around your body,” he says, thumb rubbing large circles around your wet and sensitive clit.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, legs wrapping around his head, fingers clawing at his chest, he held your tightly, watching as your body spasmed, a loud cry for his name leaving your mouth as you finished, legs trembling on his shoulders.
He didn’t stop, only continued thrusting into your pussy like a madman, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, his movements stuttering, filling your sweet pussy up with his release. The warm, thick sensation inside of you was too overwhelming, too much, making you weakly moan his name once again.
He drops down onto you, not pulling out, but you could feel as the semen slowly dripping out of you, making you shift and turn uncomfortably. “Feel full, baby?” the fucker asks, his lips curling up into a smirk against your body.
“Feels… weird.”
“Your cunt’s gonna feel me for the next week.”
A/N: woke up at 4am to write this while working on another fic, thank me ;-;
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
Synopsis: After 1.5 years of studying in the US, you finally return to Korea for the summer to spend time with your family while still healing from a past relationship. It was going to be relaxing and what you didn’t expect was getting along with your younger brother’s team… but what happens once you get involved with one of them. It isnt easy and there are many heartbreaks
Content: fluff & angst, fem!reader x james, reader is Martin’s older sister, younger than james, reader is called noona by the younger members.
Tw: little swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, some chapters are suggestive
Masterlist ֶָ֢.
Prologue Chapter 6
Chapter 1 Chapter 7
Chapter 2 Chapter 8
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
A/n's note: if you guys wanna be added to the taglist please reply under this post or drop a message
⋮ ⌗ ┆ martin randomly decided to break up with you right before one of your concerts—over text. you’re left wondering what went wrong while he’s enjoying his life without you—or that’s what he said. ❝ martin ends your relationship over text with no explanation why.❞ angst ˎˊ˗ wc. 258 , 12 sc
note from dani ┆ ⌞ ᝰ.ᐟ ⌝ chap 3 is heree 🥹🥹 also i cant believe i hit 300 its so unreall 💞💞 forgot to mention but y/n is '09 and like july-august 🫰
After the show was a whole blur.
Hundreds of fans wanting autographs, pictures, hearts, and so on. Cameras were flashing, fans were yelling, screaming for your attention that you couldn’t deny—literally.
Yet there was one fan in specific that caught your attention—She wasn’t energetic like the others, no. She looked.. suspicious in a way.
Nothing on her phone that told you that she was a fan, and she wasn’t even holding anything for you to sign. She looked at you—not saying anything, just silently staring. Yet that was enough to make you tense up.
The way that she looked like she knew something that none of the other fans knew about. It was unsettling to say the least. But you forced a smile at her as you carefully passed her, and she only looked at you in return.
That’s when you caught a glimpse of a keychain on her purse—one that said something related to CORTIS. You couldn’t read it properly yet it stood out to you enough either way.
You moved past her area, suddenly more tense than earlier—the simple keychain being more than enough to keep you on edge about her.
Anyways.
After that then you guys had to get in the bus to head to the next city that you guys had a concert in. The moment you and the girls got on the bus, all of you were forced to go to sleep, or at least be quiet so someone could get sleep.
A few minutes after you got settled down, your phone buzzed.
va händer ?¿ Ꮺ SUMMARY
you've never been good with words, with actions, and martin sees this as disinterest, as disgust. but in his anger and tender sadness, he finds the real profession of your love for him
va sa du ‼ Ꮺ GENERAL
ᝰ── childhood friends to lovers | angst | hurt/comfort | fluff | argument | martin realizing that you do in fact love him | you being bad at love | making up | kissing | teenage love
Ꮺ REQUESTED BY 2 anons
read the request
read the other request
Ꮺ sin talking listen to me
ALLLRRIIIGHTYYYY
okay so this is a laaate little birthday special for the amazing martin. it doesn't have a birthday theme persay but it is a martin fic, so whatevs 😋😋😋
AND I'M BAAACK it's literally been like over a month, and I'm so happy to finally be back after literal hell back at school I'VE MISSED YOU GUYSSS 🤧🤧🤧
enjoy my lovelies !! 😽
"you can't possibly still be mad at me?"
but yes, he was still mad. "you have to understand that you did something wrong."
a quiet beat passes, and MARTIN'S able to take in the sight of you. your hair is perfect, as always, and your makeup is flawless, even at the end of the day. you were unattainable. people at school wished and dreamed of either being you or having you.
so what do you have to do with MARTIN of all people? he asks himself that question every day.
MARTIN is, to put it simply, an outsider. people don't look twice as they pass, and they never give him a second thought. he has a few friends, one guy in his class, two in the year below, and then someone who graduated a year ago. but these people, they were it. group projects never lead to new friendships, passing words by the lockers never matter in the long run.
so he took pride in these people, these few guys that cared and showed it. barely two weeks after he met juhoon, the guy in his class, they decided to kickstart a small band from their shared love of music. juhoon on drums and MARTIN on mic and guitar.
two weeks later, juhoon introduced him to two friends who were a year younger, and they were quick to join the band. james kind of just melted into the band eventually, being a neighbor of MARTIN'S, he constantly overheard their rehearsals in his garage. he'd walk up the driveway, saying something like, "I had some leftover cookies I thought you guys might want," and after a few weeks, it turned into him picking up a guitar and playing with.
MARTIN felt as if he had achieved something. he now had somewhere to belong: his overflowing garage, with instruments, amps, and a few wonderfully weird people.
so he'd go from quiet conversations with juhoon at the back of math class to loud beats of music and echoing lyrics. for once, life was a little airy, going from secluded and ignored to having a part he loved and loved him.
and then, you came along. you lived on the same street, MARTIN knew this. back when you were kids, the two of you would even play in the streets from time to time. but as time passed, and social constructs grew in your teenage years, your mellow contact broke; waves in the hallways and gentle smiles came to a halt.
you were never close, but it hurt MARTIN a little to have to go from sheepish waves to nothing. but life goes on, and he learned to let it go, let you stay unattainable.
you didn't think much of him, that is, until that one day. you'd been cramming in study time at the school library for what felt like an eternity. the sun shone encouragingly at first and began to set when you decided to call it a day. chemistry was screwing you sideways, and of course, the teacher was a punishment sent from hell, so you were stuck teaching yourself the syllabus the day before the exam.
you ended up packing up at around 5pm, approximately five hours after your classes ended. your last lesson had been canceled, and instead of your usual departure to the corner shop or hanging out in the courtyard with your group of girl friends, you decided to make camp in a pile of chemistry books and notes, and the sterile light of your laptop.
your friends had laughed, dragged you by the arm towards the exit in protest, but you insisted, and, with a sigh, they left you to your misery as they celebrated their early end to school.
when you finally collected your things, defeated by the pain that is chem, it was too late to go to the corner shop and too late to find any of your friends still available. so you retorted to going home. you took the bus to the closest stop, but it still made your walk home ten minutes.
this walk was often relaxing, a way to start your morning or end your school day, but now, it feels like a death sentence. each step takes more and more out of you. the sky's turned beautifully orange and purple, the spring ─nearly summer─ sun shining everything in comforting tones. but you can't find any energy to actually appreciate the warmth.
the day had defeated you, you're tired, you feel clammy, and you yearn for the shower waiting for you at home.
so what could possibly put you in the position you're in now? stopped dead in your tracks; unmoving, mesmerized.
MARTIN, that's who. the sun hits him in a way that makes his blond-dyed hair golden and his dark brown eyes shine. he's pretty; painted nails strumming his electric guitar, lips close, intimate with the microphone; the mic stand stretched tall to reach him.
you remember him, of course, you do. the boy who'd always come up running to you with the brightest smile on those warm summer days when you two and a couple of the other neighborhood kids would swim and play around in your pool. the boy who'd always share his pocket money with you so you could also buy a popsicle when the ice cream truck came around.
he's sweet, he always has been. but when reputation and standards caught up, letting people go felt non-optional. MARTIN came with that "non-negotiable" ruling, and your friends convinced you not to care. and you haven't cared, not for five years, but now, when you're witnessing him at his best, it's hard not to look away. he's effortless in his strumming and plucking of the guitar; he's cool and natural with the mic that's nearly touching his lips.
you're not the first to stop and stare. a whole crowd has formed in his driveway, clapping in rhythm, and a few shouting the lyrics with MARTIN. he looks so happy, so in his element.
you don't join the crowd; you're too intimidated to, you stay on the sidewalk, a good few meters away from the ordeal. but you stay, you stay for the entire show. over the thirty minutes they play, they don't miss a single time. every song gets the crowd hyped, gets people singing, dancing, and applauding.
MARTIN is quiet, from what you've seen nowadays anyway. soft-spoken in class, on the low-key in hallways. but here, he's loud and catches everyone's attention with as much as a striking smile and an encouraging shout. time passes quickly with his on-stage charm, and after he lands his last chord with a confident strum, he says his thank yous as people start filtering out with newly found smiles and pleased ears.
you however, you're stuck, you can't bring yourself to move, to leave. the crowd grows thin, and the people who once blocked your appearance have left. you ─in your school uniform, imperfect hair, and a mountain of textbooks in your hands─ still stand on the pavement, teetering on the edge of his driveway. you stand out like a sore thumb against the astray people dressed in black and studs.
MARTIN spots you. spots you in your pretty white blouse and plaid skirt, that somehow manages to look better, different on you than on everyone else. you and your ─in his eyes─ perfect hair, holding a pile of school work tight to your chest.
time doesn't slow, sparks don't fly; it's rather clumsy. shivers of shock rush through him at the sight of you, and in his flabbergastment, he drops his guitar, the neck bumps into a cable, tearing it from its socket in the amplifier. feedback screeches for a few seconds at the commotion, echoing and causing the rest of the band to shout annoyances.
"sorry," MARTIN insists, picking up his fallen guitar.
when he starts making his way over, hand grasping his guitar, your body yells at you to move, to leave before you do anything you'll regret, but you're suddenly face-to-face, and it's too late to flee.
when he's close enough, you truly realize how much older the two of you have gotten, because he towers over you, and he's no longer dressed in playfully colorful clothes or wearing hairclips his sister dressed him in.
you see him in the hallways from time to time, his glasses and painted nails, but the fact has never clicked in your head. you realize that MARTIN'S not stuck in some memory in your head. he's real and there.
"you play," is all you can get out, the first words you've spoken to him in five years, and he chuckles, sounding embarrassed.
"yeah, I do," he says sheepishly, glancing down at his red guitar.
"you were great," you say. he smiles, looking down at you.
"we, uhm," he stutters, pointing back to the garage with the guys tidying up and grabbing cans of soda from a red cooler. "this's our first gig, kinda," he laughs awkwardly. he leans his guitar on his shoe so he doesn't have to hold all its weight. "we were playing and people sorta just gathered y'know."
you find yourself smiling. "really?" he glances at your eyes, but looks away after a second. "that's.." you lose your words, the thought of your group's voices taunting you. they make fun of people like MARTIN, the glasses-wearing, note-taking, alone-sitting somebodies that are so easy to ignore and even easier to point and laugh at with the excuse of feeling pity.
it's the fact that you're standing here, in front of this tall, gentle, glass-eyed guitarist, and you don't really care what they'd have to say. you've missed him, a fact only ever made apparent right in this moment when he's close, and the sunrise gleam shines him rosy and flushed, and his glasses are still a little lopsided from past commotion.
you two grew from that, this small interaction. subtle, sheepish waves in the hallways, to you stopping by his house when they were playing. sitting in a nearby armchair, drinking a dr. pepper that MARTIN always offered the minute he saw you walking up his driveway.
you were welcomed in a way you haven't been before, and that just led to you two. a late august evening, the sun mere inches away from hiding under the horizon. just the two of you are left after juhoon said his goodbyes. an innocent conversation turned romantic with the help of a sunset, a blush, and far-too-cute glasses.
one detail that always reminds you of that evening is the fact that he gave you a diet dr. pepper rather than an original. seeing that white can, always reminds you of that smile he gave you, of that kiss you shared.
"you got any studying to get home to?" MARTIN asks as he puts down his guitar on its stand. you chuckle at the question, because you do, quite a lot at that. you have a book seminar in english this friday, and you've got half the book left. it's constantly been slipping your mind thanks to your newly frequented stops at MARTINS and the fact that the book is just mind-numbingly dull.
"just a bit of reading," you lie, taking a sip of your diet dr.pepper. his eyes land on yours again after having put his guitar down, and he's wearing a pleased smile.
"so, maybe you can stay a little longer?" MARTIN proposes, and there's something about the way he looked in that very moment. eyes aglow by the setting sun and glasses beaming.
you end up sitting on his driveway, the gray concrete cold underneath you, and the can in your hand humid with condensation. there are no words to really describe the moment. sunset shining the world golden, laughter blessing your ears. it's simple, yet your flushed skin is nothing but complex. he's sitting close enough for your shoulders to touch, and it makes all his words so foggy.
he chuckles as he makes a remark, and you nod with a smile, but you're lost in him. in his glasses that mirror the sun, the smile that fits him so well, and the hands that are so close. if you were to stretch your pinky, you'd touch his, and wasn't that a little bit too tempting?
he laughs again, a deep, colorful chuckle that infects you with a warmth; a warmth that gives you courage. your pinky touches his, subtle, but undeniable. it makes him trip over his words a little, and the blush that inches up his face is enough to make you reach over properly, your palm against his outer hand.
his words dissolve before they can reach his tongue, and he's left with only breath and a warm pulse. "I-," he chuckles, his throat bobbing as he looks down at your touching hands.
your contact lies there; open for him to acknowledge and pursue. what you expect is him to slowly intertwine your hands, to give you a smile. but before he even tries, he looks to you, and he holds your eyes so carefully, his gaze so gentle.
"I'm happy we get to hang out so often," he nearly whispers, because if he were to speak any louder, when he's this near, it'd ring in your ears.
you smile, and you see the desperately subtle glance he gives your lips. what you want to say is something along the lines of gratitude and a form of reciprocation, but "prove it," is what you end up saying instead.
he blinks at your response, an airy exhale leaving him, but he dares to glance down at your lips again, lingering a little longer, making it obvious. obvious enough that when he does lean in, his lips on yours already feel natural. it feels like instinct, like the easiest thing to do. when his hand finally engulfs your own, and his other dares to reach for the brink of your neck, that's when it melts into you. him and his presence and warm skin.
his glasses bump into you, but it doesn't grow tense; the two of you merely giggle into each other. your hand that's not holding his reaches up to lay on his chest, but through the humidity of your mind and warmth of MARTIN, you forget about the dr.pepper in your grasp. as your hand moves and your fingers grow loose, the can spills onto your uniform and his jeans.
you both yelp, lips disconnecting, touch leaving, but the hand that's holding his managed to grow tighter, safer. you see the now-dented white can roll down the slanted driveway with a clunky, uneven sound. you meet his wide eyes, pink lips, and slanted glasses, and you laugh. your head clunks into his chest, which is now dressed in a wet t-shirt. his chest rumbles with laughter under your temple.
you walked home that day with one of his old, dry t-shirts. and a kiss goodbye at your front door, as he had insisted on walking you the ten meters to your house. you felt blessed, MARTIN thought it was too good to be true.
the two of you grew into something gentle, into something that was just your own. you wanted to keep your relationship on the low-key, and who was MARTIN to object? he didn't mind having you when no one else saw. he blamed it on different circles, on schedules. but you, you realized, that you do in fact care what your friends have to say.
in the beginning of your relationship, it was giggles and soft touches, secret kisses and passing glances when nobody could see.
a month passed, and then three. it was careful what you two had, something you cherished, but nowadays, over the past few weeks, your friends have gotten to your head.
"god, I feel like I see that blond wannabe wherever I look."
you look up from your lunch plate, the comment landing wrong in your chest. "MARTIN?" you inquire.
your friend scoffs a grimace. "that's his name?" the rest laugh. "I swear if I hear him and his little band-geek friend laugh in math one more time, I'm losing it."
the table erupts in further comments and laughs. you utter a forced snicker, but you cower into your plate, the laugh tasting sour on your tongue.
ever since then, it's continued, it's grown. remarks have gotten rougher, laughs tetering on mockery, cruelty. it all sinks into you with bitter force, with a truth you don't want to face. so subconsiously, sharply, your behavior shifted. subtely, your hands started to hesitate rather than assure. your kisses grew fewer and fewer. your glances, your contact, it grew strained. you tried, you begged yourself to get yourself together, but now there's really no denying your behavior.
it leads you to where you are right now. you got home a while ago, been home for a few hours, MARTIN ended just twenty minutes ago. so you're in comfy loungewear and barefaced, while MARTIN'S tense in his school uniform.
"I want to know why," MARTIN says with a yearning urgency. you don't look him in the eye, you can't. you try to muster up an answer, your arms crossed and your eyes on the living room wall.
he says your name with this desperate hurt, and it hits you beneath your ribs, all flesh and close tears. "why is it so hard to give me a glance. a sliver of your attention."
you swallow, close your eyes hard. "MARTIN, please, as if you don't ignore me too." he scoffs, quiet yet obvious.
"I'm not the one that let's go of your hand when we're out." you clear your throat, sight falling to your hardwood floor. "I'm not the one who refuses to look you in the eye as soon as anyone's near. or no one, for that matter."
this is where all this came from. the two of you crossed paths in the hallway today, no one around. when MARTIN smiled at the sight of you and privacy, you saw it as too risky and steered away, not even as much as glancing his direction.
it was silly, dumb. not a hello, not even eye contact.
"I feel like I'm the only one in this relationship," he chokes on his words; they feel too honest, because deep down, MARTIN knows that this really is a possibility.
"please, MARTIN, a glance doesn't mean much," you defend, but you still can't bear the thought of looking him in the eye.
"to you, of course it doesn't," he states. you exhale, holding back a begging urge at your eyes. "because, you-." he inhales, breathing to withhold what's begging to come undone. "you could leave any day."
you do the unbelievable, the unmistakable, you meet his eyes. they're glassy, they're hurt beneath the furrow of his brow. you swallow.
"a glance doesn't matter when you have the choice to go as you please."
you switch your weight from one leg to the other and shift your arms around in their crossed position, you do anything to do something. "and how come you can't, huh?" he huffs, head turning to the wall. "hm, why can't you leave any day you please?"
"because I love you," he confesses, his tone rough with an urge to hold back what leaps forward. but it still comes out as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
it settles deep in your abdomen, harshly in your throat as your brows furrow and your arms grow loose.
he sniffs. "that's why," he proclaims, meeting your eyes before walking off to the nearest door; your bedroom door, and closing it behind him.
the echo of the door clicking shut is what makes both of you crack. tears fall slowly, hands cover, your body grows limp. you sink into the couch, tears mixing with your skincare, brows folding under the pressure of your head and aching waterline.
MARTIN, he glides down the door, landing with a quiet thud as tears fall with vigor. his lashes crimp, his glasses bend and lift as his hands rub and cover his eyes.
he might be able to choke the excuse that he needed an argument, he needed a way out, but the raw, uncovered truth was that he loves you. every time he sees you walking up that driveway, everything else falters. every time your hand grazes his, nothing else can itch a frown out of him. you make him feel like himself, unfiltered and protected.
but the past few weeks have made him believe that he's not yours, and you're not his. everything you do seems to be in compliance with others. MARTIN knows people think of him as weird, that his dyed-blonde hair is outlandish, and that if he wears glasses, his personality should fit the bill. but he's never believed that you did too. you've convinced him that you're not like your friends, that your surroundings aren't a reflection of who you are.
yet here he is, sobbing against his palms and uneven glasses, having come to the conclusion that it was, in fact, too good to be true. because who could see their lover and not smile, who could see their lover and not care.
MARTIN takes a deep breath, sighing into his palms in an attempt to stop his tears from flowing so harshly. he feels dumb, rather silly, sitting here so insatiably affected by something you don't even seem to classify as an issue.
he huffs, standing up as a way to shake this grimy layer of anxiety off him. the simple action doesn't help at all; it only makes him dizzy behind his cloudy glasses. immediately after standing up, he sits down, your bed comfortable underneath him. it's lacy and pink, it radiates you. you and your pretty outfits with matching colors and jewelry. he sniffs, bringing his nail between the knaw of his teeth.
he bites at the chipping color on his nail. it was you who painted them cherry red. "it matched your guitar," you had said, happy after having found the right color in your large collection. MARTIN smiles bittersweetly, looking down at the almost-gone paint. you're just behind that door, so close yet still so abundantly unreachable.
he bites his lip, wrapping his hand around the old polish on his nails, almost as a desperate attempt at preserving something he believes is nearly over.
through his choked back tears and humid waterline, he catches a glimpse of a blue strip of paper hanging on the edge of your vanity mirror. a vibrant blue he recognizes from his own room. on one of your first dates, you went to this arcade. the usual old and modern games. that one dance battle game, where he won by a landslide, and the racing game, where you came first, and he came last.
they had this photobooth. it cost a dollar for a strip of three pictures. you took one, he took one. MARTIN got the black-and-white pictures of you in that pretty sweater you wore, and peachy eyeshadow that turned white and glittery in the photo. while you got his picture, the one that started off serious before he got childish with his poses. him, and his spiky hair and black-painted nails. here it was, displayed right where you do your makeup every morning.
MARTIN makes his way over, taking a seat in the chair by the white vanity. just a simple glance makes him notice the little chikawa plushy hanging right beside the black-and-white photo. this dumb little white plushy with a taiyaki head.
he chuckles, grazing the wide black eyes on the plush. MARTIN won it that day at the arcade. you had laughed, said it was ugly, in which MARTIN acted offended. it wasn't ugly, it was cute; at least MARTIN thought so.
he finally notices the many differently colored post-it notes stuck to the edges of the mirror. a mix of yellow, green, and pink sticky notes tucked into the slants of the white frame. MARTIN leans in, catching the clunky pencil lines of his handwriting. they were his notes, the ones he had sneaked into your locker and managed to discreetly pass to you in class.
"one you've never tried," one said, accompanied by a heart. he wrote that one on a redbull can he bought you with flavor you'd been wanting to try. which he then put in your locker for you to find on a gloomy thursday morning.
"I like your outfit." MARTIN chuckles reading this one. he had given it to you sneakily in class, and you had giggled, knowing you were wearing the uniform of every single other person in the school.
each one was a little stupid, a quick quip, things that didn't really matter too much, yet here they hung proudly, accompanying you every morning when you get ready.
MARTIN sighs, bottom lip sore under his teeth. was all this really futile? wasn't this affection? keeping parts of him without the need to brag about it. he never knew you kept that plushy, or that blue strip of pictures, or a few silly notes.
MARTIN is taken aback by your preservation of a few gifts and a couple of anecdotes, but why should he be? if you care, how come it doesn't show? why do your touches skim and hesitate? why does your smile falter? why do you cower at the tiniest bit of reciprocation?
in the midst of MARTIN'S quick conclusions and bustling brain, he sees it: the white, dented dr.pepper can sitting so innocently in an empty space on your bookshelf. he sits there for a while, just looking. it's scratched, silver metal peeking through the white cover. the dent is obscure and obvious.
it's only when MARTIN stands up from the small vanity chair that he realizes he's been holding his breath. he exhales abruptly, the breath burning his throat. he walks over to the wooden bookshelf. the can has been cleaned, the debris and dirt washed off. it's meticulously taken care of.
he raises a hand, grazing the roughed-up white surface with a red knuckle, and the cold metal takes him back to that day on his driveway, to you and your perfect hair and deep eyes and soft kiss; his first kiss.
never did he think back to that day and let his thoughts land on that spilled dr.pepper. if only it didn't happen, but here you were, displaying it, taking care of it. did the useless really matter? or was it just because it had a part in the moment? he picks the can up, letting it sink into his palm; both its smooth and rough edges.
MARTIN hears a knock at the door; it's soft, attentive. he turns to the sound and takes a second to breathe your barely-there presence in.
"MARTIN?" he hears you say, crooked and cowardly. his heart palpitated, aches at the sound. he takes the leap and opens the door.
there you are, tear-stained and beautiful.
"I hate my friends," you proclaim, and it stifles a breath from him. "they're so mean to you." you wipe your nose, tears continuing. MARTIN'S never seen you cry, and what some would consider revenge is what he sees as failure, because how could he let you end up feeling like this?
"their words keep coming back to me every time we're together, and it's-." you lay your face in your hands. "it's affected how I treat you."
MARTIN'S hold of the white can tightens the slightest.
"and it shouldn't." you brush your hair back. "you don't deserve that because-." your eyes meet his. "because you're so great, MARTIN," you sigh. "you're so sweet to me, and I just answer with being cold, and it's just cruel-."
he looks at you, really looks at you, and all he sees is passion. passion for him of all people. and love. love for him. isn't he lucky?
"please believe me when I say that-." he envelops you before your words can escape you. his arms wrap around you, your flushed and stained cheeks imprinting on his blue blazer.
"I love you," you say, finishing your sentence. MARTIN smiles into your neck where he's nuzzled into you, a final tear managing to escape and land on the fabric of your tank top.
you let your arms take a slow trip up around his neck, holding him tight against you. you sigh into him, closing your eyes beneath your furrowed brows. "I don't want to leave any day, MARTIN."
he still has a hold of the can, keeping it tucked into him, keeping the cold surface from touching your skin. he looks down at the metal from your shoulder, at its dented, imperfect, useless presence.
"I know," he says, knowing you're honest. he plants a reassuring kiss on your collarbone.
a beat passes, a quiet moment that holds you with such certainty. "I didn't know you kept all this," MARTIN mumbles into you.
you barely hear his words. "kept what?"
you two disconnect, you're still close, but there's enough space between you for him to show you the can in his hands. you exhale a laugh at the sight.
"I've kept prettier things from you," you chuckle. he smiles, planting a kiss on your temple.
"I saw," MARTIN answers, and your ears light up with a subtle pink. "my picture." he kisses your cheek, wrapping one arm around your waist as he delicately sets the white can on the vanity. "some of those sticky notes."
"I kept all of them," you're quick to confess.
MARTIN'S brows furrow, eyes widening. "all of them?"
you laugh, a hand going up to cover your mouth. "I have a box full of 'em in my desk." your cheeks have bloomed pink. "I switch the ones up on my mirror from time to time."
MARTIN'S the one who's blushing now. he cowers in the crook of your neck, and you laugh at the contact of his warm skin.
"and what?" he laughs through his blushing state, steering the subject away from his flushed embarrassment. "the chikawa's still ugly?"
you laugh, hugging him properly as your arms go around his neck once more. "as ugly as ever," you giggle. "but at least the guy that won him is kinda cute." MARTIN laughs, glasses a little crooked as he raises himself from your neck.
you smile contentedly. both of you are blushing, both of you are close. of course, your lips inevitably connect, comfortable and warm in the company of the other.
you don't want to leave, MARTIN doesn't want to leave. not someday. not any day.
Ꮺ sin's masterlist
Ꮺ schedule ; future fics
Ꮺ talk to sin
Synopsis: You've admired Cortis and Seonghyeon for a while, but what happens when one day you try to surprise him and it doesn't go as planned?
Content: Fluff with a little angst in the start, Seonghyeon × fem! Reader
~4.7k words Cortis masterlist | kpop masterlist
You stood frozen in front of Seonghyeon’s desk, the small folded letter trembling slightly between your fingers. Inside was a quick sketch of him and a short, clumsy birthday note you’d rewritten four times.
You’d spent the whole lunch break psyching yourself up to leave it on his desk and disappear before anyone saw. But now that you were actually here, every worst-case scenario was screaming in your head. What if he thinks it’s weird? What if he laughs?
You slapped your own cheek once muttering “just do it, coward,” and dropped the letter onto his bag. Then you turned to bolt.
“So you’re the one”
The low voice came from directly behind you.
You whipped around so fast your backpack strap caught on the desk corner. Seonghyeon was standing in the doorway with arms crossed.Your mouth opened but nothing came out.
“H-huh? Seonghyeon?”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
“Why do you look so shocked? Caught red-handed?”
“I was just—”
“Leaving another creepy little gift?” he finished for you, voice flat and cold.
The word creepy hit like a slap.
“No! That’s not—!” You waved your hands frantically. “It’s not like that!”
He stepped forward, gaze dropping to the folded paper now sitting obviously on top of his bag as proof.
“I get that we have fans,” he said slowly, each word deliberate, “but there’s a line. And some people like you keep crossing it.”
Your stomach plummeted.
He thought you were… one of those fans. The ones who left strange packages in his locker and followed him to the bathroom hallway. Right now, from his point of view, you looked exactly like them: alone in an empty classroom, hovering over his stuff, caught in the act.
“I didn’t expect it to be you of all people,” he added quietly.
The disappointment in his voice hurt worse than the accusation.
“Wait, you’ve got it completely wrong,” you managed, voice cracking.
“It’s not… I’m not… like them.I swear...”
“Yeah, sure. I believe you.”
Seonghyeon’s voice was flat, laced with sarcasm. He brushed past you without another glance. His shoulder barely grazing yours, but it felt like a shove.
Your carefully placed letter slipped from the edge of his bag as he yanked it up. It fluttered to the floor. He didn't even look down. Just stepped right over it, the sole of his sneaker pressing a faint gray. smudge across the folded edge before he walked out.
The door swung shut with a soft, final click.
You stared at the spot where he’d disappeared, chest tight, ears ringing with the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall. You’d only wanted to make him smile. A tiny, stupid birthday gesture from someone who’d never asked for anything in return. And now he thought you were… what? A stalker? A weirdo?
Your knees gave out slowly. You sank to the floor beside his desk, back against the cold metal leg, and reached for the letter. The paper was wrinkled now, his footprint stark against the white. That’s when the tears came.
He hates me.
The thought looped in your mind.
~~~~~
A few days dragged by in painfully slow.
You avoided Seonghyeon: Different routes to class, Head down in the hallways, Eating lunch in the basketball court instead of the cafeteria. It wasn’t hard...he barely showed up anyway. His “cortis schedule” kept him out most days. But on the rare days he did appear, it was torture.
You felt his eyes on you the moment you stepped into class late one morning like you did something wrong. In the lunch line another day, you caught him staring again, jaw tight, before he turned away like you didn’t exist.
You told yourself it was better this way.Better he think you were avoiding him than think you were stalking him again.
Then came the small school sports day.
You’d volunteered for logistics—running around replacing water bottles, folding towels, hauling equipment back to the storage rooms. You didn’t mind. Sports had never been your thing and you’d much rather stay on the sidelines.
Seonghyeon, surprisingly, was there. You hadn’t expected him but he was on the field for a few games. You stole one glance during his match then forced yourself back to work. Later that afternoon, one of your classmates shoved a large cardboard box of refreshments into your arms.
“Take this to the breakroom on the first floor,” she said, already turning away. “The players need them after the next round.”
The box was heavier than it looked but you managed. You climbed the stairs, arms burning, and reached the door. No answer when you knocked. Games were still going on so you figured the room was empty. You pushed the door open with your shoulder and stepped inside.
You shuffled forward, box blocking most of your view, and set it down on the nearest chair with a soft thud. Then you turned and your heart stopped as
Seonghyeon was inside.
Shirt halfway off, sweaty torso bare and track pants slung low on his hips. He was in the middle of changing out of his game jersey into something drier.
For one frozen second, neither of you moved. His eyes locked on yours and his expression changed from shock to angry.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
You stumbled back so fast your leg almost hit another box.
“I—I was told to bring the refreshments to the break room—I knocked—”
“This isn’t the break room,” he snapped, yanking his shirt down to cover himself. “It’s the changing room for the athletes. The sign’s right there.”
You looked. The small plastic plaque on the door read: TEMPORARY ATHLETE CHANGING – MALE PLAYERS ONLY.
Your heart dropped.
“Get out.”
His voice cracked a little. He stepped forward, not aggressively, but enough to make you flinch.
“I didn’t see anything...I swear—”
Your words died in your throat as voices echoed down the hallway. Multiple Guys laughing, sneakers squeaking, someone yelling about who won the last relay.
“Shit,” you whispered, eyes wide. “Did the games end already?”
Seonghyeon’s face went from furious to alarmed in half a second. He glanced toward the still ajar door and then back at you.
The footsteps were getting louder.
If they walked in and saw you here alone, in the athletes’ changing room, with him half-dressed it wouldn’t just be rumors. It would be a full-blown scandal. Your name. His name. You couldn't imagine what would happen to cortis then. You spun in a frantic circle, searching for anywhere to disappear.
Locker? Too small.
Under the bench? Too obvious.
Then your eyes landed on the open window. A narrow concrete ledge ran along the exterior wall, maybe thirty centimeters wide. Just enough to stand on.
You bolted for it.
Seonghyeon’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to hide!” you hissed over your shoulder, already swinging one leg over the sill. “If they see me in here with you, its gonna be bad”
“Are you insane?” He lunged forward, hand outstretched like he might grab you back inside but you didn't wait. You ducked under the frame, toes finding the ledge, fingers gripping the brick above the window so hard your knuckles bleached white. Below you: grass, a low hedge, nothing soft if you fell.
Seonghyeon ducked his head out after you, face inches from yours now. His expression was a chaotic mix of panic, disbelief, and something almost like worry.
“What the heck?” he breathed, voice cracking. “You’re gonna fall, idiot..get back in!”
“I can’t!” you whisper-shouted, heart slamming against your ribs. “They can't see me”
The door banged fully open behind him.
“Hey, Seonghyeon! You alive in here or what?”
Seonghyeon froze for a split second then snapped into motion. He yanked the thin curtain across the window, blocking you from view, and spun back toward the room.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, voice forced-casual, a little too loud. “Just changing”
You pressed yourself flat against the wall, cheek scraping the rough brick, breath shallow and ragged. The ledge felt even smaller now that you were actually on it. One foot slipped an inch and your stomach lurched.
Inside, the guys were talking over each other: joking about the score, complaining about blisters, someone rummaging through a bag. Then one of them called out impatiently.
“We should head back. Next round’s starting soon”
A chorus of agreement rippled through the group. Someone kicked an empty water bottle across the floor.
Then another voice, closer to the door:
“Yo, Seonghyeon, you coming or what?”
Seonghyeon hesitated a bit before answering. “Yeah, I’ll be right behind you guys. Go ahead.”
“Okay, don’t take forever, man.”
The door clicked shut behind the last of the guys, their voices fading down the hallway like distant thunder.
“Hey…” You didn’t dare move yet.
Seonghyeon’s voice came from inside the room.
Your fingers ached from gripping the brick, legs trembling from the strain of balancing on that stupid narrow ledge. Slowly, you turned your head. Seonghyeon had poked his head outside the open window, curtain half-pushed aside. He wasn’t glaring anymore..just worried.
“Get in,” he said quietly and extended his hand.
You stared at it for a second before you reached out. Your fingers slid into his. Calloused from whatever sports he played. You pushed off the ledge with everything you had left, trying to swing your leg back over the sill. Halfway through your shoe slipped. A sharp gasp tore out of you as gravity yanked.
But Seonghyeon was faster. His other hand shot out, clamped around your forearm like iron, and he pulled you in hard.
You came flying back through the window in a tangle of limbs. Your body collided with his chest; he staggered backward two steps, lost his balance, and both of you went down. He hit the floor first and then you landed half on top of him, knees straddling his hips, hands braced on either side of his shoulders.
A stunned “Oof—” escaped him.
You froze as your faces were inches apart. Neither of you moved for a few seconds. Just the sound of both of you breathing too loud in the quiet changing room.
Your arms shook from holding yourself up. Seonghyeon scanned your face...his eyes flicked down to your mouth for half a second then snapped back up, like he’d caught himself.
“Get off,” he muttered, voice low and strained.
The words jolted you like cold water. You scrambled backward so fast your knee scraped the floor. Hands shaking, you pushed yourself upright, putting space between you.
“Sorry,” you whispered, barely audible. Then, softer “And… thank you”
Seonghyeon stood slowly behind you. He didn’t look at you right away as he just turned his head to the side, ears faintly red.
“Seonghyeon…”
He glanced over “Make it quick.”
The sharpness stung, but you forced yourself to keep going.
“Look… I’m genuinely sorry. I had no idea this was the changing room. And that day i wasn’t trying to be creepy. I swear. I just… I thought it would make you smile”
He didn’t respond. Just a low, skeptical hum in the back of his throat. Your hand moved on autopilot. You reached into the pocket of your shirt where the folded letter was. You’d kept it there, crumpled and worn at the edges, because some tiny, stupid part of you still hoped he’d see it.
You pulled it out.
The paper was soft now, creased from being carried everywhere. The faint smudge of his old shoeprint still marked one corner like a scar. Seonghyeon’s eyes flicked to it. His shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. You stepped forward and set the letter gently on the edge of the table beside him. Not shoving it at him. Just… placing it there.
You couldn’t bear the silence any longer so you make up your mind to leave.
“I’ll go,” you said quietly, already turning toward the back exit. “You don’t have to say anything.”
~~~~~
"Go get some groceries," your mom said, not even looking up from the kitchen counter.
You let out a dramatic groan and flopped backward onto the couch like you'd been shot. "Whyyy do I have to go so late? It's literally the middle of my episode!"
"Because dinner's in thirty minutes and I'm out of sauce. Go, unless you want to starve tonight," she shot back, completely unfazed by your theatrics.
You huffed, arms crossed for a solid five seconds before giving in. With an exaggerated sigh, you grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.
"Fine. I'll be back soon," you muttered, snatching the crumpled list from her hand and shuffling toward the door in your ratty old night shorts and the oversized tshirt that had seen better days. It was past 9 p.m.—who was going to care what you looked like? The streets would be empty, the store nearly deserted.
The night air was cool as you walked the short distance to the 24-hour convenience store down the block. The bell jingled softly when you pushed the door open. The owner, Mr. Kim, glanced up from his phone behind the counter and gave you the usual small nod of recognition. You returned it half-heartedly and headed straight for the aisles.
You moved quickly: soy sauce, green onions, a pack of tofu, some ramyeon your mom probably forgot she needed. Then you spotted the snack aisle and paused. Okay, maybe you deserved compensation for this forced errand. Your hand reached for your favorite spicy chips—
"Hyung, you want these crackers?" a loud voice cut through the quiet store.
Before you could grab the bag, a hand swooped in and snatched it right out from under your fingers.
"Hey, I was gonna—" Your protest died in your throat.
Because the guy holding your chips was Seonghyeon.You both stood there, the chip bag dangling awkwardly between you both.
The other two guys kept talking behind him, oblivious, rummaging through the drink cooler. Seonghyeon didn’t say anything right away. Just stared, like his brain was still processing that it was you.
You felt the heat crawl up your neck instantly because of course. Of course this was how you’d see him again: right after you’d bolted from the changing room like a criminal, leaving that crumpled letter on the table without waiting for his reaction.
“Umm… hi,” you managed, voice small.
His gaze dropped taking in the whole picture: your hair a tangled mess from hours on the couch, the faded oversized blue T-shirt that swallowed your frame, and the tiny Hello Kitty sleep shorts that suddenly felt way too short. You instinctively tugged the hem of your shorts down, trying to shrink, to disappear into the aisle.
Seonghyeon noticed. His eyes flicked away fast, cheeks tinting the faintest pink. Before you could grab the chips and flee, two more figures rounded the corner.
“What’s taking so longgg?”
Keonho whined, beanie pulled low, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. He stopped short when he saw you, brows shooting up. “Oh”
“Those chips look good,” Juhoon cut in, already snatching the bag right out of Seonghyeon’s loose grip with a grin. “Yo, can we—”
He froze mid-sentence when he looked at you. You recognized him instantly—Juhoon. Your bias. The one whose fancams you’d rewatched until 3 a.m. more times than you’d ever admit.
And here he was: staring at you in your rattiest sleep clothes, hair looking like a bird’s nest, holding a basket of soy sauce like some gremlin. Panic surged. You took a tiny step back right into the shelf. A pack of gum clattered to the floor.
Juhoon’s eyes narrowed playfully. “You know her?”
Seonghyeon rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
“Yeah… yeah, she’s my classmate. Wasn’t expecting to run into her here.”
Juhoon was still looking at you, head tilted, like he was trying to place you from somewhere.
“Wait… are you the one who...” He cut himself off, glancing at Seonghyeon with sudden understanding. “Ohhh.”
Seonghyeon shot him a warning look to not say anything. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Keonho, oblivious as ever, blinked wide-eyed and blurted it out anyway.
“Wait you’re the weird fan?!?”
The words landed like a slap in the quiet store. Your stomach plummeted. He told them? The whole group knew?
The people you’d quietly admired from afar now thought you were some creepy stalker who’d been leaving letters? You felt your face drain of color. Your hands went cold around the soy sauce bottle.
Juhoon’s expression shifted a little and that hit you harder than any accusation ever could. Your bias looking at you like you might be the problem.
“I…” Your voice cracked “I gotta go.”
You set the basket down on the nearest shelf with a soft clatter. The soy sauce, green onions, tofu, all abandoned and turned toward the exit.
“Wait—” Seonghyeon’s voice cut through but you didn’t stop. The bell above the door jingled as you pushed through.
Behind you, inside the store:
Keonho’s voice dropped, small and guilty.
“…Did I say something wrong?”
Seonghyeon exhaled through his nose “Yeah. You did”
“Ah… shit.” Keonho rubbed the back of his neck, beanie slipping sideways. “Sorry...
I just thought–”
“Idiot,” Juhoon muttered under his breath, but there was no real heat in it. He glanced toward the door you’d just disappeared through, then back at Seonghyeon. “So… she wasn’t the one?”
Seonghyeon stared at the floor for a second.
“No. I think I misunderstood. Badly”
Juhoon studied him then gave a small, knowing nod.
“Say… why don’t you go after her? Talk it out properly. We’ll buy the stuff she left behind, grab our snacks, and meet you guys.”
Seonghyeon opened his mouth. “But..”
Juhoon cut him off with a gentle shove between the shoulder blades.
“just go”
Seonghyeon hesitated. His eyes flicking to the door, then back to his friends then he jogged out after you.
.
.
You hadn’t run far. Just a few shaky steps past the convenience store’s glow, you pressed your back against the rough brick wall near the entrance of a narrow alley.
Soon the tears came without warning. They slipped down your cheeks, dripped off your chin, soaked into your tshirt. You didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point?
They thought you were the “weird fan.”
The people who unknowingly gave you motivation, who made school bearable just by existing, now hated you. Or at least that’s what the voice in your head screamed. You hugged yourself tighter, arms wrapped around yourself. The cold bit at your bare legs, but you barely felt it over the ache everywhere else.
Then...soft rustle of fabric.
Something warm and heavy draped across your shoulders. You flinched, startled, and looked up through blurry lashes.
Seonghyeon stood there, closer than you’d realized. He’d taken off his jacket without a word and settled it around you, tugging the collar up gently so it covered the back of your neck.
The jacket was still warm from his body heat. You stared at him, stunned. He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, hands shoved into his pockets now that the jacket was off him, shoulders slightly hunched against the night air in only his T-shirt.
“I didn’t tell them you were some weird fan,” he said quietly, voice low enough that it felt like the words were only for you. “Keonho’s an idiot who speaks before he thinks. He heard me mention the letter once, when I was still freaking out and filled in the blanks wrong. I never said you were creepy. I never said anything like that.”
You swallowed, throat raw.
“Juhoon looked at me like…”
“Like he was confused,” Seonghyeon finished gently. “Not disgusted. He was just trying to piece it together. That’s all.”
Fresh tears welled up again. You pressed your lips together hard.
“Wait… why are you crying again?”
Seonghyeon’s voice cracked with sudden panic. He took half a step closer, hands hovering awkwardly like he didn’t know whether to touch you or give you space.
You tried to answer “Cuz…” but the word dissolved into a choked sob. It wasn’t sadness this time. It was relief crashing over you like a wave.He and the rest of the group didn’t hate you.
“Hey… hey, breathe.”
Seonghyeon’s tone softened. A few passersby slowed their steps, glancing over with that mix of curiosity and concern. One older woman paused outright, frowning at him like he might be the reason. He noticed immediately.
His eyes darted around and then he made a small, decisive movement. Without another word, he reached out, fingers curling lightly around your wrist, and tugged you forward into his chest.
Your face pressed against the soft cotton of his T-shirt His arms came around you slowly.
“Stop now… please,” he murmured against the top of your head. He didn’t rush you or pull away though.
Eventually your breathing evened out. Seonghyeon didn’t let go right away. He waited until your grip on his shirt loosened. Only then did he ease back just enough to look down at you.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
You nodded against his chest once, small and shaky.
“…Yeah.”
He exhaled and let his arms drop slowly, though one hand stayed on your shoulder like he wasn’t ready to lose contact entirely.
“Sorry about the hug,” he said, voice a little rough. “People were staring. Didn’t want them thinking I was… you know. Making it worse.”
You managed a tiny laugh. “It’s okay. It… helped.”
You hadn’t even noticed them approaching until Juhoon’s voice cut through the quiet night.
“You made her cry?”
Seonghyeon stiffened instantly, arms still loosely around you.
“What—no,” he said quickly, almost defensive. He turned his head just enough to see Juhoon standing there holding your grocery bag, Keonho beside him juggling their own snacks and drinks. Both looked equal parts amused and concerned.
“Didn’t expect this from you, man,” Keonho added, eyebrows raised high under his crooked beanie.
Seonghyeon rolled his eyes at Keonho’s comment. Then he stepped back from you a fraction, giving you some space. You reached up and shrugged his jacket off quickly, holding it out to him with shaky fingers.
“Thanks for this, but… you should probably take it back.”
He didn’t move to grab it. Instead he reached forward, gently tugged the fabric from your hands, and draped it right back over your shoulders.
“Just give it to me tomorrow in class,” he said quietly. His voice was low, almost stubborn. “It’s cold. Keep it.”
Before you could protest, Juhoon stepped closer, holding out your grocery bag with a small smile.
“Here,” he said simply, passing it to you.
Your fingers brushed his as you took it.
“Oh—you didn’t have to—”
“It’s fine,” Juhoon cut in gently, smile widening just a little. “Least we could do after Seonghyeon made you cry”
The smile hit you like a soft punch. A tiny, involuntary word slipped out under your breath.
“Cute…”
Juhoon’s eyebrow lifted. “Huh?”
Keonho, who had clearly heard every syllable, repeated what you said.
“She called you cute, Juhoon hyung.”
Seonghyeon’s expression flattened instantly. He looked away toward the streetlamp, suddenly very interested in the flickering light. Juhoon tilted his head at you, curious.
“Oh? Me? Isn’t Seonghyeon your favorite?”
Your eyes darted to Seonghyeon then back to Juhoon. Heat flooded your face all over again.
“Wow,” Seonghyeon muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear it.
Juhoon laughed softly and reached out to pat the top of your head once.
“Anyway, I’m glad,” he said“You’re nice”
Juhoon gave you one last small grin, then turned to Seonghyeon.
“We’ll wait for you at the park. You can talk more but don't take that long”
Seonghyeon shot him a half-hearted glare.
“Yeah, yeah .”
The two of them started walking away—Keonho already whispering something that made Juhoon laugh again. Leaving you and Seonghyeon alone again.
.
.
“So…” you started, the word hanging awkwardly in the cool night air.
Seonghyeon was still looking at you. Then his eyes dipped, to your mouth. He froze. A frustrated sigh escaped him. Before you could process it, his hand came up and smacked his own forehead.
You startled, jumping a little. “Wha—”
“Listen,” he said quickly, cutting off whatever excuse he was about to make. His hands shot out, catching your shoulders.
“The reason I was so disappointed that day when I saw you standing over my bag…” He swallowed once. His thumbs brushed the fabric of his own jacket still draped over you. “It was because… I admired you. From afar. For a while.”
The confession landed like a bomb. Your mouth parted, but nothing came out. He kept going, words tumbling now like he’d held them back too long.
“So when I thought you were the one leaving weird notes, planting things… it felt like a betrayal. Like the one person I actually admired in class was just another fan playing games. That’s why I was rude” He paused before speaking again “I’m sorry for misunderstanding ”
Seonghyeon dropped his gaze to the cracked sidewalk between your shoes, shoulders tense.
“There’s no need to apologize,” you said softly. “You’re… you’re an idol. I know how much you guys deal with. The paranoia and the way people cross lines without even realizing. If I were in your place, I probably would’ve reacted the same. Or worse.”
You hesitated, then let the rest slip out.
“…And maybe I sort of like you more than Juhoon anyway.”
Seonghyeon’s head snapped up at that.
“More than Juhoon,” he repeated under his breath, testing the words.
You ducked your head, cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean—”
“No. Don’t take it back now”
He took one small step close enough that the toes of his sneakers almost touched yours.You didn’t pull away. His thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone once, feather-soft, wiping away the last drying tear track you hadn’t noticed.
Before either of you could say another word there was a loud thud from down the street. You both jumped, heads whipping toward the sound. Keonho was sprawled flat on the pavement about twenty meters away. A single empty soda can rolled lazily away from his foot.
“You idiot,” Juhoon’s voice came from behind a parked car. He stepped out, arms crossed, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.
“THERE WAS A BUG!” Keonho yelled back, scrambling to his knees and pointing accusingly. “A HUGE ONE! It flew right at my face!”
Juhoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “You ruined their moment. Again.”
Keonho finally got to his feet, brushing dirt off his jeans, guilt flashing across his face when he saw your expressions.
“Uh… sorry?” he offered weakly.
Seonghyeon’s jaw clenched. He took one threatening step forward.
“Oh, I’m so gonna kill you guys—”
Before he could finish the threat, you moved. Without thinking you rose on your tiptoes, cupped his cheek gently with one hand, and pressed a soft, deliberate peck to his other cheek.
Seonghyeon’s rant died mid-sentence. His eyes widened comically, ears turning a violent shade of red that crept down his neck. He looked like someone had just rebooted his brain. You pulled back, smiling small and shy.
“It’s okay,” you said softly, thumb brushing his jaw once before dropping your hand.
For a minute he just stared at you.
“Martin’s gonna love this…” Juhoon said, already pulling out his phone like he was about to record evidence.
“How cute,” Keonho cooed, clasping his hands together dramatically. “First one to get a girlfriend among us”
“James hyung is gonna be so jealous,” Juhoon added, grinning wickedly.
“can you both go?!–” Seonghyeon whipped around, voice cracking on the second syllable. His face was now fully scarlet. He looked ready to combust. You pressed your hand over your mouth, but the giggles kept escaping.
Content: non idol!juhoon x reader, gender neutral! reader x juhoon, established relationship!, teeth-rotting sweet fluff, juhoon being a cutie, soft kiss
~562 words Cortis masterlist
Juhoon’s gaze lifted from the pages of his book for what felt like the tenth time in the last hour. He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught you staring again.
“You’ve been staring at me for the past hour instead of your book,” he commented, voice low and teasing.
You only shrugged, scooting closer across the soft rug until your shoulder brushed his. The afternoon light filtering through the curtains painted warm golden stripes across the living room floor, catching in his dark hair and making his eyes look even softer than usual.
“Not my fault you’re way more interesting to look at,” you murmured, reaching up to gently poke his cheek with your finger. The touch made his smile deepen.
This was supposed to be a serious study date. Textbooks and notebooks were spread out between you, highlighters scattered like colorful confetti, yet here you were, sprawled lazily beside him while Juhoon was the only one actually focused. You both sat on the floor with your backs against the couch with your legs stretched out.
“Hey...” you called softly, leaning over to push his book down with two fingers. It closed with a gentle thud.
Juhoon let out a long, dramatic sigh, but there was no real annoyance in it. He set the book aside and shifted closer, his knee bumping lightly against yours.
“Someone’s way too distracted today,” he said, pinching the tip of your nose playfully between his thumb and forefinger.
You whined dramatically and collapsed forward, burying your face into his chest. His arms came around you instantly, warm and steady, pulling you against him.
“I can’t do this anymore,” you mumbled into his shirt, voice muffled. “I’m not a genius like you.”
“You don’t have to be,” he replied softly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “I like you exactly like this.”
You lifted your head just enough to pout up at him. “You like me stupid?”
Juhoon laughed under his breath, the sound rumbling gently against your cheek. “No, no… that’s not what I meant.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.“I just… really like you.”
Your pout melted into a shy smile as buried your head in his chest again. Juhoon’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he tilted his head, studying your flustered expression.
“Someone’s shy?” he teased, gently cupping your chin with his fingers to make you look at him again.
“Nuh uh,” you denied quickly, though your voice came out smaller than you intended.
A playful smirk tugged at his lips. Without warning, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your mouth. The moment his warm lips touched yours, heat flooded your cheeks once more. You squeaked quietly and immediately buried your burning face into his chest, trying to hide.
“Not fair…” you protested weakly, your words muffled against his shirt. You poked his side in retaliation.
Juhoon chuckled, the low sound vibrating through his chest as he wrapped his arms tighter around you. “You’re being too cute, my love,” he murmured, voice dripping with affection while his fingers gently threaded through your hair.
“Stoppp,” you whined, though the smile tugging at your lips completely betrayed you.
He only laughed again and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. “you love this”
OOOOOH WEEEEEEEE....no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream, and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carrier, against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, on the back of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce, in the pool, in the garden, bent over, in the basement, against the window, having the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, era ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffing, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan introducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, vulcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell devolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly...me and yuji we gon' be fuckin' tonite.
Content: non idol!juhoon x reader, gender neutral! reader x juhoon, established relationship!, teeth-rotting sweet fluff, juhoon being a cutie, soft kiss
~562 words Cortis masterlist
Juhoon’s gaze lifted from the pages of his book for what felt like the tenth time in the last hour. He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught you staring again.
“You’ve been staring at me for the past hour instead of your book,” he commented, voice low and teasing.
You only shrugged, scooting closer across the soft rug until your shoulder brushed his. The afternoon light filtering through the curtains painted warm golden stripes across the living room floor, catching in his dark hair and making his eyes look even softer than usual.
“Not my fault you’re way more interesting to look at,” you murmured, reaching up to gently poke his cheek with your finger. The touch made his smile deepen.
This was supposed to be a serious study date. Textbooks and notebooks were spread out between you, highlighters scattered like colorful confetti, yet here you were, sprawled lazily beside him while Juhoon was the only one actually focused. You both sat on the floor with your backs against the couch with your legs stretched out.
“Hey...” you called softly, leaning over to push his book down with two fingers. It closed with a gentle thud.
Juhoon let out a long, dramatic sigh, but there was no real annoyance in it. He set the book aside and shifted closer, his knee bumping lightly against yours.
“Someone’s way too distracted today,” he said, pinching the tip of your nose playfully between his thumb and forefinger.
You whined dramatically and collapsed forward, burying your face into his chest. His arms came around you instantly, warm and steady, pulling you against him.
“I can’t do this anymore,” you mumbled into his shirt, voice muffled. “I’m not a genius like you.”
“You don’t have to be,” he replied softly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “I like you exactly like this.”
You lifted your head just enough to pout up at him. “You like me stupid?”
Juhoon laughed under his breath, the sound rumbling gently against your cheek. “No, no… that’s not what I meant.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.“I just… really like you.”
Your pout melted into a shy smile as buried your head in his chest again. Juhoon’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he tilted his head, studying your flustered expression.
“Someone’s shy?” he teased, gently cupping your chin with his fingers to make you look at him again.
“Nuh uh,” you denied quickly, though your voice came out smaller than you intended.
A playful smirk tugged at his lips. Without warning, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your mouth. The moment his warm lips touched yours, heat flooded your cheeks once more. You squeaked quietly and immediately buried your burning face into his chest, trying to hide.
“Not fair…” you protested weakly, your words muffled against his shirt. You poked his side in retaliation.
Juhoon chuckled, the low sound vibrating through his chest as he wrapped his arms tighter around you. “You’re being too cute, my love,” he murmured, voice dripping with affection while his fingers gently threaded through your hair.
“Stoppp,” you whined, though the smile tugging at your lips completely betrayed you.
He only laughed again and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. “you love this”
synopsis . In which you get fed up with Sato (fratjo) for playing around with you and unintentionally get involved with his identical twin brother Toru (nerdjo), not knowing they’re simply two sides of the same coin.
content . afab!reader, porn with decent plot, messy relationship(s), fratjo’s an asshole in the beginning, bluntness, pervy!nerdjo, eventual threesome, degrading, oral sex, first time squirting & then doing it multiple times, getting caught, surprising dynamics, praise, pussy slapping, getting put in a headlock, confessions, filthy dirty talk, jealousy, marathon sex (gulp), spit, slightly bimbo!reader, choking, nerdjo is feral, full nelson, edging, getting passed around, frajo’s a voyeur, filth, slight angst, cum eating/swallowing, some cuckholding(?), masturbation, a silly ending, etc.
word count . 11.4k | author's note: this ended up being wayyyy longer than i initially thought it would be and it’s overly freaked the fuck out. hope you enjoy!! banner art by Rororogi Mogera. (not proofread—sorry in advance, truly)
In your defense, you didn't think he would care.
Sato Gojo—esteemed member of Sigma Chi, infamously known for his commitment issues, and noted to be the campus playboy—was the last person you thought would care about you sleeping with his twin brother.
Hell, he's also the last person who expected that same brother to be able to get this far with you. Toru is the shyest, dorkiest, and nerdiest part of the Gojo family, what could he possibly have done to catch your eye?
Sato had done his best to keep you away from and unaware of his six-second-younger brother's existence too. Yet somehow, here he is walking in on the two of you fucking in his bed.
Less upset at the sight and more confused, the only thing he wants to know is... what the fuck led up to this pairing?
——
For months and months prior to that, it'd been the same thing between you and Sato.
“She doesn’t mean anything to me, baby. You know you’re my favorite,” He’d say, cooing you with that manipulatively charming voice of his after you’d asked him about yet another woman he was talking to.
You weren't sure why you kept going back to him. He never told you how he felt about you unless he was inside you—and even then you’re certain those feelings were all sex-based and moderately untrue.
Yet something about him kept drawing you back in.
And if you had to guess what exactly it was...
“Fuuck, y’like that don’t you?” He’d groan, having one big hand clasped around your throat as he plowed you into the mattress. Sato rarely ever took his time during sex, too eager to make sure you cum & keep up his reputation of being a good fuck. “Like the way my cock kisses that sweet spot, huh?”
The rhythmic sound of his pelvis smack smack smacking! against your ass echoes throughout the room at a pitch almost louder than your sapped moans. “Mhmm,” You'd hummed in response, fingernails dug into the bedsheets below.
You couldn't bring yourself to think about all the other women that's been in this same exact position before you when his cock was far too busy gliding in and out of your soaking pussy. The same sheets your fingers are clawing at is also clasped in between your teeth tightly, drool wetting up the fabric pathetically due to how good you felt.
Only to be rudely interrupted by his hand gripping at your neck tighter and then tugging the upper half of your body allll the way up—his chest pressing into your back while his dick massages the gushiest spot inside you. “Don’t do that,” Sato huffs with that shit-eating grin on his face, “Speak up, pretty girl. I couldn't hear you.”
“Uhuhh, yes,” You pant, tongue beginning to dangle out of your mouth all whorishly, “I love it, Sato.”
Cocky like always, he'd let off that amused scoff and then nip at your ear playfully, “Yeahh, I know you do. Jus’ can’t get enough of me.”
Thinking back again, he had the biggest ego you’d ever seen.
Sato was tenderly humping the rest of his thick cock into you while you were nice and close, just to realize after the first few thrusts that you were trying to inch yourself away from him—your moans getting airier by the second.
His smile widened, “Hah, where’re you goin’?” He'd only made you cum three times since the two of you got here. Surely that wasn't enough to have you acting like this already. “Look at you, trying to run from me now," Sato scoffed with faux bitterness.
You barely got a moment to process what he was doing before you choked.
Warm lips pressing against your ear, “C’mon, I jus’ want one more outta’ you,” He purred, his arm slow to wrap around your neck while his bulking muscles pressed into the center of your throat. Whatever oxygen was on its way to your head all but died out as the man put you into a bullying chokehold and then flexed.
Your cunt squeaked juicily around him and his cockhead nudged in deeper because of the hold he had on you, otherwise rendering your body unable to escape.
That was one of many reasons why you always ran back to him. If Sato Gojo didn't know how to do anything else right, he damn sure knew how to fuck.
“Mhmm, that’s it, baby." His voice was huskier against your eardrums now and you felt your body shuddering with a sense of numbness as something slicker oozed around his shaft. "Take that fuckin’ cock—juuust like that.”
His thrust became slower while he held you in place and you'd never felt so full in your life. It wasn't until he suddenly snapped up into you that all air left your lungs and your eyes crossed.
Whatever sound you let out was beyond pathetic and only followed by a desperate, “S’too much,” that he could barely hear.
Rolling his eyes, he repeated the motion a few more times at a steady pace, letting you adjust to being arched and folded up how he wants you. “My dramatic girl, acting like you haven't been taking it just fine," He reminded you.
You almost believed him for a moment there until his free hand came snaking around your torso to press against your lower abdomen—right over the bulge his fat cock had created against your skin—and applying an egregious amount of pressure.
“M’gonna cum, Sato,” You cried out as his fingers slithered down to nudge against your clit. Never a firm rub or anything like that since he felt like his cock alone was enough to work what he wanted out of you.
He’d smile all victoriously and whisper, “That's it? Don't tell me you're still too scared to squirt on me?”
Truth be told, that was the one thing he couldn’t do for some reason.
He never said anything but he thinks maybe you’re just one of those women who need a little more effort put into in order to make you squirt. More effort of which he damn sure doesn’t feel like putting in.
Four orgasms in a row? That’s fine, he can do that no problem. Making you squirt? As badly as he wants to deep down inside, he just can’t.
You ended up leaving a creamy mess around his cock but it's not the spurting stream of wetness he was hoping for. After letting you tremble out of your high, he's slow with the way he unwraps his arms from around you.
You fall forward onto the bed and let out a heavy breath before smiling wearily in relief. No other guy on campus ever managed to make you cum even once so of course you didn't think much of the fact that Sato couldn't make you squirt.
Hell, you were unknowingly on the same page with him—thinking you might've needed extra effort put in for that kinda release. Which was fine, you didn't need that much from him. The fact that he could make you cum back to back was more than enough in your book.
Not his though.
Sato hated it. He hated how he couldn't make you squirt—the fact burned at his ego and wounded his pride greatly. He's made other women do it so he doesn't understand what the problem is. There were some nights where he wondered if maybe he was doing something wrong with you. Or maybe you'd found someone else who could—
He unknowingly scoffs at his thoughts, shuffling out of the bed and swiping up the nearest clean sweats to slip into. Who was he kidding? There isn't one other person on campus you'd go to over him.
And if he couldn't make you squirt, he knows there's no one else that could.
Amid his deep thoughts, you happen to look over and catch the way those white brows of his are neatly knitting together. He didn't even realize how his true feelings on the matter were written all over his face.
Your eyes had ran over him a couple times, pondering on all the scratch marks in various places. Places that your hands haven't touched.
And that's how the routine was with the two of you; high tension all throughout the day, let him fuck you 'til all your senses went numb, and then fade into quietness with little to talk about since Sato doesn't deem it necessary to get close with you in that way.
When you catch the way he's dragging his feet around the room, trying to clean the mess of clothes you two made prior to getting in the bed, your brows lifts with curiosity. Asking gently, "Hey, are you alright?"
Sato hums without turning around to you, running his a hand through his hair as if stressed out. "Yeah, m'fine." He grunts, glancing over at you after and adding a slightly comforting, "Are you?"
You nod in response to him and he stares for a moment longer than necessary, still deep in his thoughts about something he surely wasn't sharing with you anytime soon.
Why would he? You didn’t need to know that he was beating himself up over something so stupid. He’s well aware that he’s the best guy to ever sleep with you so, opening up to you about something so trivial wasn’t in his character.
There’d been jokes and banter between the two of you before—obviously—but it never went any further than that. The moment things threatened to dip into something real, something more tender or honest, Sato would shut it down with quick precision.
Which is exactly why you didn't try pressing for more of this dry conversation. Instead, you silently watched him tug a shirt over his head and then head over to the nightstand for his phone.
He's busy texting someone for a bit before he releases a huff and turns his head to see the way you've been quietly watching him, "Did you want me to run you a bath or—"
"No, no, I told you, I'm fine," You unintentionally cut off.
You weren't sure where the awkwardness had come from but it wasn't completely unwelcome since there was clearly something he wasn't telling you. You saw it in the way he pouted all grumpily just before looking at you.
Whatever was on his mind had to be eating him up on the inside.
Not that the frown pushed you to ask him anything else though. You ended up turning over and rolling off is bed a few minutes later to gather your things and leave, to which he'd peacefully helped you with.
Then Sato escorted you all the way out of his maze-like home and was "kind" enough to give you a kiss on the forehead before sending you off.
Little things like that always caught you off guard. Your heart would do that weird thing in your chest as you wondered if there was a possibility of experiencing more than just hook-ups with the man.
Though, reality is quick to slap you back to your senses when you see him with his arm around some other woman the next day while on your way to class.
You knew better than to get emotionally attached to Sato Gojo. Everyone did.
——
Some days later is when shit decides to hit the fan between you two.
It happens so randomly that you almost feel as though you dreamt the whole thing up. The day starting with him texting you to come over that night and somehow ending with you in thwarted tears.
In all the time you spent with Sato, there'd never been a moment where he was blatantly selfish. Something of which surprised you in the beginning of your relationship since he was known to be a fuckboy.
Yet, ending up in his bedroom for the nth time, as his thumb rubbed at your clit with unsteady, jerky motions, appearing otherwise annoyed about something—Sato had been selfish for the first time with you.
Foreplay was skipped entirely and you should've known something was up from that alone.
The most you got out of him prior to being stripped of your clothing was a messy kiss and a barely audible, "Need somethin' from you, baby," grunted into your mouth.
Then you were being carried all the way up to his bedroom, handled frustratedly down into the mattress, and soon fucked at a rate you weren't used to.
His thrusts were sloppy and needy, voice quiet since he didn't bother talking you through it or saying anything at all, and the only thing with a sense of normalcy to it was the way his thumb nudged over your clit as his cock dove in and out of you.
Midway through, you assumed he just had a bad day or something. Figured he wanted to take some of that stress out on you.
And that wasn't out of the ordinary for him, it's happened more often than not.
But as his thumb drew desperate circles around your twitching bud, Sato's cock twitched and he pulled out the moment you were about to cum. You were too dazed by his abrupt action that you nearly missed the way he stroked himself into finishing on your stomach and then scoffed. Bitterly.
Your eyes were glossed over since the taste of your own orgasm had been right there on the tip of your nerves, stripped away from you faster than you could blink.
Whatever had been bothering him about having sex with you was felt before it was understood.
He was already turning away by the time you pushed yourself to sit up, the sheets gliding down your arms as you watched him with wide, teary eyes. The room felt ten times quieter than it normally did. You saw how he crossed the room as if nothing had happened—as if this was just another unremarkable moment to be shrugged off.
"Sato," You say, his name tripping in your throat on the way out.
Only then did he pause, fingers curled around his drawer handle. Not sparing you a glance back, "What." he breathed out.
It was hardly even a response, more of a wall you'd audibly stumbled into. You'd never heard his voice so dull and flat with you.
Swallowing down whatever confusing emotions were building up in your throat, "Did I, um... did I do something wrong?"
Somehow that gets his attention. He glances back over his shoulder then, expression insipid and eyes casting over you all bored-like. "Don't start that," He said, irritation weaving into his voice, "You're overthinking shit already."
Your mouth opens to say something but it's like you'd been slapped in the face, leading your lips to seal shut for a second. His words were too heavy for you, coming off with weighted dismissiveness.
After a few beats, your words trail out slowly, "Sorry I'm a little confused, Sato. You asked me to come over for that..?"
He exhaled sharply, like the question itself had tired him, "What else do I ever call you over for?"
Something shrewd twisted in your chest, "Certainly not whatever the fuck that was just now."
Sato finally turned more fully and leaned back against his dresser, crossing his arms and letting his eyes meet yours firmly. "You sound upset."
"I feel used," You'd snapped back immediately.
His brow twitched, "'Cause I didn't make you cum?"
Again, the words came off blunt and careless.
Leading you to flinch internally, "I mean—yeah," You said as a humorless breath tiptoed out, "You normally do."
"Well, I didn't feel like it today. M'spent." He scoffed out.
It was almost as if that was supposed to be an explanation for everything.
You stared at him and felt the way your disbelief began to fade into something of anger, "You could've told me that."
"Would that have made you feel any better?" Every response came out of him like he'd rehearsed the entire conversation beforehand.
"We could've done something different," Your hands began to curl into the sheets a little, trying to steady yourself. "I could've-"
"I didn't want anything different." Sato cut off crisply.
You'd never been so utterly confused in your life. Everything was fine before this—for the most part—so what had come over him all of a sudden? Why was he acting like this?
The finality in his statement only made your stomach drop, your head shaking slowly in disbelief, "...So you wanted to use m-"
"No, sweetheart," The pet name sounds empty on his tongue, lacking its usual affection. "I wanted you to see how it feels to get into something thinking things are going to go like they always do, just to feel disappointed by the end."
The next sound that spreads throughout the room is your laughter as it exits you in incredulous fashion, "Sato, what the fuck are you talking about?"
He dragged a hand through the white tuffs of his hair, pacing only once before coming to a stop. "You..." Letting his words trail off, he released a long and stressed-out sigh, "Every woman I've been with has never had the problem you do."
That hits you square in the chest.
Head cocking back as you frown with immediate offense flaring over, "Excuse me? Are you... are you talking about squirting, Sato? You can't be serious."
"I am," He said without hesitation. "If it's just something you can't do, I'd rather you tell me than making me look like an idiot when we fuck."
"What?" Your eyes narrowed as your anger bled into something strictly hurt. "I... I'm sure I can. Maybe we're just doing something wro-"
"We?" Sato cuts you off instantly. Then his tone seemed firmer and you knew he didn't think things through when he said, "No, no, you've got shit backwards here. I can assure you I'm not doing anything wrong, that's all you."
Something inside you finally boiled over.
"All me?" You scoffed, pushing yourself out of the bed. The cold air wrapping itself around you felt like even more of a wake-up call than what he'd just said. "Oh, sorry for not being like all the other twenty girls you sleep with."
Grabbing your clothes with uncoordinated and janky movements after wiping away any lingering trace of what had happened, you subconsciously wished you could've erased the moment entirely from start to finish. Your hands trembled as you got dressed, seemingly more from the heated emotions waving through you than the embarrassment.
Sato stiffened upon hearing your words. For the first time—probably in his life—his confidence had cracked. "Shit—wait," He rushed out, trying to step towards you and stop you from leaving.
It was almost like he himself wasn't aware of how severely fucked up his actions and words were.
His hand reached out for your arm, "I-I didn't mean it like that, c'mon. I just—"
"Save it, asshole." You spat back at him, shoving his hand out the way and storming out his room before giving him a chance to say anything else.
He'd said more than enough to have your vision blurry and heart pounding in your chest as if pained.
The hallway was dim, your footsteps quickened to carry you as far away from him as possible, and your emotions buzzed all too loudly in your ears for you to think straight. You think you hear something clash against the wall back in Sato's room but you ignore it.
You're so wrapped up in your feelings that you're not even paying attention to where you're going. You only made it a few steps down the hall before you collided with something solid.
Someone solid.
Gasping as you stumble back, a pair of hands come up to steady you. "Ah, sorry," a voice hums out to you. The sound is soft as it reverberates throughout the hallway but your chest feels as though it's caving inwards since the guy in front of you sounded exactly like Sato.
There was a pitch of unfamiliarity in it, though. One that made you look up.
For a moment, you thought maybe you'd fallen off the bed earlier and that everything thus far had been some type of hallucination because surely Sato wasn't standing right in front of you right now.
...Except, with glasses? And a dorkier look in his eyes?
With the same snowy white hair, the same perfectly sharp jawline—that's somehow a tad softer—and the same dazzling blue eyes, he stared at you all longingly as if an angel had fallen right into his arms or something. The only difference between him and his brother being the black glasses sitting center on the bridge of his nose.
Despite the hallway's lack of lighting, you swear you see his cheeks flush with red as the moment of exchanged staring passes.
Prior to this, you'd only ever heard rumors of Sato having a twin brother but you never once imagined those would turn out to be true. The man's eyes widen slightly as he really looks at you, confusion flickering across his face whilst he takes in your flushed skin, the way your clothes are hanging off of you as though you'd rushed to put them all, and how your eyes are somberly glossed over.
"I-," You try to blink that wetness out of your gaze and then clear your throat. "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."
"It's fine," He replies as he thoughtlessly continues to hold onto your arms. Then, uncertainly, "You're... Sato's, uh—"
"Sato's what?" You cut off harsher than you meant to.
There was no way he was about to refer to you as that asshole's girlfriend or anything like that, right?
His mouth visibly goes taut, realizing he was about to step into something fragile. Instead of responding, he just stands there awkwardly enough to piss you off even more.
Groaning, you push past him and continue storming down the hall. You didn't have time for whatever that was about to turn into.
Unbeknownst to you, he'd stood there and watched as you walked away—cursing himself out for letting his opportunity to talk to you pass him by like that. He'd known who you were for months prior to this. Out of all the women Sato brought over, you were the only one Toru took a genuine interest in.
It's unfortunate for him that Sato's a stingy asshole who doesn't care to introduce the two of you. Because of that, Toru had to go out of his way just to get glimpses of your personality.
He was always home when Sato brought you over, always in his room that's just one wall over while the two of you fucked—listening and secretly getting off to those gorgeous moans you let off. Toru knew it was perverted of him to do so, but he truly couldn't help himself.
Now here he is with sagging shoulders at the fact that he totally fucked up his first interaction with you.
He heard the whole argument between you and his brother and came out into the hallway hoping to come to your rescue or at least cheer you up, even if only for a second. Yet, all he managed to do was piss you off with his awkwardness and lack of confident social skills.
After a few minutes, Toru straightens up and settles his jaw in a way that says he'd made some type of silent decision. That wasn't going to be the last time he interacted with you—no matter how badly his brother fucked up—he knew you'd be back eventually.
As he turns back to his room, he promises to himself that next time he sees you, he won't hesitate or fumble things with you.
——
A few weeks pass before anything else noteworthy occurs.
In that time, things between you and Sato remain rocky, to say the utmost least. Conversations between the two of you were more careful, apologies came far slower than they should've, and some semblance of trust had been rebuilt in uneven steps.
Sometimes he was sweet and more attentive than he had been before that big argument, kinda like he was afraid it'd happen again. Other times he'd slip up and those old habits would seep through, any excuse he gave you dressed up charmingly enough for you to ultimately end up forgiving him again.
The fact that you both were trying had to be enough to count for something, otherwise the two of you were better off calling it quits months ago.
Somewhere in the middle of that relationship, Toru became familiar to you. You went out of your way to see him whenever you visited the Gojo estate, even if you were only there for Sato.
He was almost always cooped up in his room, drowning himself in his studies—textbooks stacked neatly on his desk, handwritten notes color-coded and meticulously organized.
It wasn't long before you realized he and his brother were complete opposites. Where Sato excelled in partying and socializing, Toru peaked in academics and hobbies that were far more niche.
You remember poking your head into his room one time to say hi and catching him lost in Digimon reruns with strategy guides pulled up on his nearby laptop. He was so engrossed in it that he hadn't even heard you saying something to him.
Situations like that are what got the two of you to be something close to friends.
Though, you still didn't know him any more than you knew Sato. You were still kept at an arm's length from either of their personalities beyond what was noticeable. Sato made sure of that where both he and his twin were concerned.
While he did soften up with you, he still wasn't interested in keeping you that close—not close enough to know him. And he damn sure wouldn't let you go off and try to find that in Toru.
Anytime you and the nerdier Gojo sibling were alone, Sato was intruding minutes later. Always interrupting.
Even when you ran into Toru on campus.
One time when you found him outside the library, standing near a vending machine and ran up to talk to him, Sato seemed to spawn out of thin air with his arm around you is if to silently tell his brother to fuck off.
You weren't sure what had gotten into him as far as that was concerned. He didn't care when you talked to anyone else.
This was but another unfortunate thing for you since you were quite fond of Toru. He remembered little things about you; your major, your favorite cafe, and even your preferred place to sit in lecture halls.
If you asked Sato questions about any of those things, he'd probably shrug and ask you why any of it matters in the first place.
But you bet that dick for brains could tell you which position makes you cum the fastest...
It's regrettably because of that as to why you're currently standing at the large front doors to his home, having rung the bell only a few seconds ago due to an earlier text requesting you come over.
In said text, Sato promised that he only wanted to talk to you and you chose to believe him.
Just for Toru to swing the door open with a surprised look on his face.
"Oh, hey." He began, pushing his glasses further up on his face so that he could get a proper look at you. "If you're looking for Sato, he's not here. I actually think he's been gone for the past three hours or so."
Disappointment settles into you and you roll your eyes, already annoyed. "Of course he has," You sigh.
Toru offers you a half-comforting grin before stepping back a bit and opening the door wider for you, "He'll probably be back soon though, if you wanna come in?"
You debated leaving but the prospect of being able to spend some alone time with Toru is what swayed you into staying.
Which is how you ended up in their living room.
The rest of the house was quieter than Sato ever allowed it to be. There was no music blaring, none of his restless pacing or constant yammering about fuck knows what. The only thing heard was the low hum of the TV ahead of you and Toru.
He'd put on a movie a few minutes ago and although you'd agreed to watch it with him, you kept glancing towards the front door hoping to see Sato walk in any moment now.
It never happens.
Sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, you and Toru are steady to find comfort in one another's presence. You eventually let yourself focus on what he'd put on, snorting whenever he laughed at the unfunniest bits of it and finding yourself mused by the easiness of it all.
You noticed how Toru also tried to sneak his eyes onto you here and there, lacking that smoothness his slightly older brother had and always catching your attention when he did it.
The two of you even shared those warm moments where you'd catch him staring and then whisper, "What, is something on my face?"
To which he'd swallow thickly and shake his head, "No, not at all. Sorry..."
His shyness is probably what drew you in the most about him. You loved how often he avoided eye contact with you, how gentle his voice always came out, and the way he'd begin to adjust himself against the couch due to the smallest of things.
The night was going well enough for you to forget all about—
Your phone rang and Sato's name was lighting up your screen.
At the sight, your shoulders went tense and you were unsure if you should answer it or not. Toru looked over at you but he didn't say anything.
The movie continued to play ahead as you picked up the phone and quietly spoke to Sato, "What?"
Whatever was said to you on the other end made your jaw clench—something of which Toru noted instantly. He didn't mean to be nosy but it was hard not to when minutes passed and you were clearly getting frustrated about your conversation.
"You sound drunk," You're heard muttering, making Toru's ears perk up and then strain to hear more.
Sato is just barely heard grumbling in response, "M'not drunk, baby."
Your shoulders slump, "Did you even mean to text me?"
There's a long pause. Toru tenses up and Sato's heard burping.
"I texted you?" The man on the phone asks, making your entire mood sink. "Hahhh, fuck. I don' remember doing that.. What uh, what'd I say?"
"You said you needed to talk." You reply rigidly.
He nods even though you can't see him, "Ah... I mean, I do need to talk to you but," Pausing to grumble, "Don't see why I didn't jus' call.. Anyway, s-so yesterday I was with this girl 'n she said m'not doin' anything wrong."
His early attempt at trying to convince you he wasn't drunk fell flat in that instant. You stare into space for a moment, "What?"
"Remember how we got into it about your squirting problem?" Sato blurts out in response.
You could feel yourself getting irritated with him all over again. You hated the way he said that like it was truly an issue on your end alone, even though the two of you have talked about it after the argument.
"My squirting problem? You mean the fact that you can't get me there?" You snapped back, matching his energy for just a second and unintentionally gaining the dull attention of his nosy brother.
At this point, you don't think you cared whether or not he overheard.
"No, no, I cannnn..." Sato drags out drunkenly. Then you hear this giggle in the background before he adds, "This girl told me it really is you 'n not me. Because like-"
You hang up the phone before he can continue.
The last thing you wanted to do was entertain whatever the fuck he was about to tell you for any longer than you had to. Your phone falls down into your lap and you feel it buzzing a few seconds later but you only swipe it back up to silence it entirely.
After which, the room falls into a thick quietness that swallows up both you and Toru. Even the movie playing ahead had switched to a soundless scene that only added to the shift in moods.
A few minutes of this stillness pass before you feel the weight on the other side of the couch shifting. Your eyes flick over and you see him readjusting himself in his seat.
You don't question it nor say anything but his sudden movements do manage to pull you out of your funk for a second. Ignoring it, you pick your phone back up to see that Sato had texted you a bunch of gibberish—the only sensible message you can make out being one of him begging you to text or call back.
As soon as you start typing, his twin decides to clear his throat again.
“I mean, it can’t be that hard.” Toru says all timidly, his words catching enough to snag your attention away from your phone.
Your thumb goes idle against the screen and you look up at him to see his cheeks colored over with bright red. He was looking off to his left and you could tell by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that his breathing had gone off-track.
Clearly, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
You chuckle as if intrigued by his words, humming, “Your brother said the same thing."
Toru scoffs and then speaks without thinking again, “He doesn’t care enough.”
Cocking a brow, “Doesn’t care enough to make me squirt?” You ask.
The sound of the man’s breath hitching was clearer than the dense tension between you both. “Obviously not,” Toru continues, lifting two slim fingers up to the center of his glasses to adjust them against his nose. “If he did, he would’ve made sure you… uh, did that.”
Never would you have expected to have this kind of conversation with the same man who can barely look you in the eye. But it was clear something had changed. Even in his body language, you saw how he'd sat up a bit straighter against the couch and let his legs sprawl out wider—almost invitingly so.
He was still avoiding your gaze but the sturdiness in his voice is what intrigued you the most.
“Did what, Toru? Say it,” You pressed, putting your phone down and turning on the couch to face him fully.
You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with the way he gulped thickly. “He would’ve uhm..." Toru pauses to take a deep breath—mentally reminding himself that he swore not to embarrass himself in front of you again—and then clears his throat one more time, "He would've made sure you squirted.”
Too shy to look at you just yet, he misses how the look in your eyes changes entirely. It was like seeing him in a new light.
Not that you hadn't thought about it before. He does look exactly like Sato and there's been a few times where you've wondered what it'd be like to be the cause of his glasses going crooked 'n foggy.
Biting back a smile, “Well, he makes me cum a lot.” You explain to him casually. Certainly Toru wouldn't have started talking to you about this if he didn't at least have some advice for you, “Like, back to back.”
He nods, nimble fingers fidgeting over one another in his lap, “Then, he just doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
You bat your lashes at him all cluelessly, “But—“
“As I said the first time,” Toru looks at you all of a sudden, his eyes mildly terrified behind his frames despite the attempt of confidence spreading over his face. There was a devilishly sexy blend of sureness and hesitancy plastered all over his features, “It can’t be that hard.”
The direct eye contact and few inches of space between where you two were sitting made everything feel hot all of a sudden. Blush melts itself into his skin again and it was clear that this initiated flirting of his was a first time thing.
You knew Toru found you intimidating and that subconsciously accepted fact only made you want to see more. More of your affect on him.
Sliding closer to him on the couch, your voice slyly dips into something more taunting, “You sound like you wanna try.”
Watching the way his jaw flexes, teeth tightly gritted within his mouth, and throat struggling to conceal the high-pitched sound that threatened to jump out of him—your affect on the man was as clear as day.
Somehow, Toru manages to maintain his confident facade, “Would you let me if I did?”
“Do you?” You ask quicker than he expects you to.
His head felt like it was spinning already. Is this what it's like to do drugs? Does his brother get to experience this all the time?
Toru gulps again, “Do I.. what?”
Now he was playing dumb on purpose, as if he wasn't the one who commenced this whole thing with his earlier statement.
Which makes you giggle, “You’re the smartest guy I know, Toru." Your compliment makes his heart skip a few beats. Then your head tilts and your tone softens, "Don’t start acting dumb just to appeal to me.”
He bats those pretty white lashes at you with his eyes all doe-like on you for a moment before he looks down, “I just… I wanted to hear you say it.”
You stand up from the couch all of a sudden and he freezes up. Then you walk over and stand right in between his legs, moving a hand to his chin and forcing his head up. “Do you wanna try making me squirt?”
Toru shakes his head and your brows furrow. His face nuzzles into your hand, forcing it to spread open as his cheek presses into your palm, “It’s not something to be tried, it’s just something I can do for you.” He explains.
Your thumb brushes against his cheek and his glasses slip down his nose a bit. Smiling, “Someone's confident.”
He merely whispers, “‘Can’t be that hard.”
——
Ten minutes later and you're wondering why he wasn't the first Gojo twin you met.
Loong fingers stretching your pussy out crudely, hot tongue attacking your clit like he wanted to lick you into numbness, and eyes still doe-like as they remain glued up on your face—Toru was nothing like his slightly older brother.
No, no, he aimed not only to please but to learn how you like to be pleased.
Whereas Sato would just sleep with you the same way he did with anyone else—beyond confident in his own abilities to bring a woman pleasure—Toru was the kinda man who took his time to work you up specifically.
“Taste s’good,” He praised in a tone deeper than you knew to be capable from him. You were laying across the couch now and he was stuffed neatly in between your legs. Whining, “More,” as he tugged at your thighs, his jaw going slack, and his mouth smearing against your cunt. “Gimme’ more—mmpfh. Please?"
You weren't sure what more he could be referring to when his fingertips were already twirling something sinful against your g-spot. You had a hand buried into his hair, your other behind you as you held onto the couch to steady yourself with the way he feasted on you as if your pussy was the best thing to wet up his tongue.
“Ah, T-Toru, fuck!” You cried out, unconsciously pulling away from him when his fingers focused in deep against that soppy spot—addicted to the way your slick gushed out around his hand and left a sweet mess against the couch.
His fingers leave your insides for only a second and a half before he's shoving them into his mouth to suck the taste off. Toru's eyes rolled back for a moment before he let both of his hands redirect to your inner thighs and then spread you out wider just so nothing was obstructing your view of the way he sloppily kissed your cunt.
Small strings of aroused filth would hang in between his mouth and your puffy pussylips, all of which would get licked off by his eager tongue before he dove back in for more.
Before you'd let him make his way down there, you recall the way he oh-so-awkwardly kissed you. He hardly had a clue what to do with his tongue when it was against yours but now that he was in between your legs, he became an entirely different person.
Suckling the dewy tastes into his mouth and guzzling it down his throat just to let it linger, Toru was nothing short of desperate to make you feel good. So much so that his brain practically turns off as he moves his hands to grip your hips and then lifts the lower half of your body up against his face.
His mouth nuzzled harder against you and you felt the wiggling tip of his tongue slap against your clenching walls. He softly humped the couch as he ate you out, letting the sounds of your moans coax him into giving you everything he could.
Toru only pulled away from your cunt when his glasses fogged up too much for him to see your face. And before you could offer to wipe them off or anything, you met his gaze with the way his head angled for you to do so.
His voice deep and aching, “Sit on my face,” He requested before whining again. “Pleasepleaseplease,” the man panted almost puppy-like and then seared his next words right into your clit with the edge of his tongue, “Need it s’bad.”
You don't think you had it anywhere in you to deny him when he was asking so nicely like that.
But by the time the two of you had flipped over and you were left hovering over his pleasantly flushed face—his shaky hands tight against your hips—you were a little too nervous to sit down.
Toru had caught his breath by now but nothing about his starved appetite had changed. Those previously soft blue eyes of his seemed to pierce straight through you in a way that Sato's sometimes would. You know they're twins and all but fuck, it was nerve-wracking to experience that hungry look from the alleged "shy" twin.
“Ride it," Toru husked out all of a sudden, giving your body the faintest pull.
Your eyes went all wide, “…Your mouth?”
Instead of clarifying things or being patient with you, he snatches your frame down with a strength you didn't know he possessed. Moaning before your core even reaches his lips again, “Want you to feed your pussy to me.”
Then he was practically suctioned to you again, eyes rolling back far enough for the whites to be visible beneath the foggy frames of his glasses.
“Ohfuck,” You cry out, the upper half of your body slumping forward a bit as your thighs squeeze around his head.
You felt the way Toru smiled at the feeling, almost like he was exactly where he'd wanted to be. His tongue skated up into you with a vigor you'd never felt before.
The man ate pussy like he wanted the results of your release plastered all over those pretty glasses of his, leaving him with sogged vision and a numbed tongue. It was yet another thing that made him so much different than his brother because although that man had stamina like no other and knew how to use his cock, he never once ate you out.
Meanwhile Toru couldn’t seem to get enough.
He even left a needy smack to your ass, encouraging you to do as he initially asked of you and ride his face. It wasn’t until his tongue was constantly plunging past your glissading folds that you unconsciously rolled your hips forward and earned a whimper from him in response.
Then the hands on your hips began to tug at you again, not even begging you for more but demanding it now.
You could no longer focus on the way he looked with splashes of your slick spread out on his glasses in nasty droplets since the tip of his nose had bumped up against your clit, and his jaw went slack just to adhere to your drooling nerves.
The sensation made your entire body flinch, but he wouldn’t let you pull up. For the nth time, you were stunned by Toru’s strength.
His tongue was thick and gathering against your pussy, not letting a singular drop of your taste escape his mouth until something light ghosted out of you.
“S-Something feels-, nngh,” Your struggles were just the cutest thing. “Different.” You tried to warn him.
His head tilted slightly and you felt his lips curve against you again as he smiled knowingly. Plucking his mouth away from you for the first time in forever with a wet pop!, Toru let his warm breath pat your quivering hole as he whispered, “It’s supposed to feel different, sweet girl. That’s what happens when you come to the right twin.”
Cocky. You never knew Toru had that in him—must be a trait that runs into family.
Except, it’s not like he was wrong. Once he lathered his tongue back in and sucked on your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane, you felt that coiling burn building up inside you. You knew you were gonna squirt despite never experiencing it before.
But it felt like too much, made you feel dirty as you neared that shattering edge. So much so that you tried so hard to snatch yourself away from Toru, whining excessively only for each sound to fall on completely deaf ears.
Your legs had clamped around his head so tight that he was getting lightheaded from his lack of oxygen—not that he cared. He had one singular goal and nothing was gonna stop him from reaching it.
It wasn’t long before it happened as his complimenting moans turned into graveling groans. The sounds vibrated against your pussy and you were tongue-fucked right into something blissful. Bleary white streaks coated your vision and you think you would’ve fallen over if not for the mean grasp he had on you.
Toru had done it, he managed to make you squirt.
By the time your brain feels like it’s functioning enough to hold a conversation, you let your vision come back to you and look down to see his soaked face.
His eyes are dazed whilst they peer up at you, appreciation swirling through his pupils. Those same glasses you’ve managed to squirt over are now crooked and you wonder if that’s from the way you unconsciously started rutting your hips forward just a few minutes ago.
Toru didn’t do anything but pant heavily—his breath stuttering here and there due to how long he went without breathing properly. When he finds the energy to send you another boyish grin, you feel a wave of embarrassment flutter over.
“Shit,” You huff, slowly moving from over his face and then grabbing his glasses.
With his face revealed, you saw how unfairly pretty he was with content written into his skin.
Then he chuckles softly, “You don’t have t’clean those.” Toru tells you, tone mumbled.
You were trying to wipe his glasses off with your shirt but he’d moved his hand to your wrist to stop you.
“I like the mess,” he added.
After which you’re stuck staring at him while he takes the wet glasses out of your hand and puts them back on his face. Surely there’s some hygienic concerns to take into consideration here but he’s not at all worrying about that right now.
Not with the painfully hard cock he’s got twitching in between his legs.
He wasn’t gonna tell you out of fear you’d assume he was some kinda loser (he is) but, not only did he cum half-way through eating you out, he also got hard again when that messy stream came pouring out of you.
Toru’s never made a woman squirt before but he did study enough videos to—clearly—figure out how it’s done. He didn’t think it would work so easily with you since all he had to use was his tongue but considering the way you just-
“Can you do that again?” Your voice hits his ears all of a sudden and his eyes widen.
“W-What?” Toru chokes, “You uh, you want me to make you squirt again?”
You nod and then move to sit back a little, not exactly in his lap but still close enough for your body heat to mingle. Your finger trails down the center of his torso slowly as you speak, “It felt really good. I wanna do it again,” You requested almost innocently. “But, on your cock this time.”
He doesn’t know how he managed not to cum at the sound of that.
Toru knew you were bold, he knew you could be a bit of a ditz at time, but fuck—did you have any idea of the things you were asking for sometimes?
Mustering up that faux confidence from before, he leans up and hums. “Alright, yeah… I can do that.” He thinks. Not that he’ll admit his lack of assuredness to you though. His hands simply move against your body and you hardly realize what’s going on until he’s swooped you up in his arms. “But not here.”
You blink dumbfoundedly, “Why not?”
“I have a better idea.”
——
When he said that, you didn’t think the better idea in question would be having sex in his brother’s room.
You recognized the path there as Toru carried you, felt the familiarity when he laid you down on the bed, and smelled the same scent of Sato lingering around even as Toru tried to distract you with kisses.
It seemed to be surprise after surprise with this man.
“I think after all the times I’ve had to hear the two of you fuck,” Toru’s hands were running down your body—his touch smoother than his brother’s ever were. “It’s only fair that I make you squirt in the same place he never could, right?”
Too many thoughts of sin swirled in your head for you to answer that properly so all you did was nod your head again. Which was yet another thing he found cute.
It’s no wonder Sato kept you to himself all this time.
That realization becomes even clearer by the time Toru’s got his cock freed from his clothing, his pinkish tip dribbling precum down onto your cunt while he gapes at the sight.
With his clothes all gone, you realized that he’d been hiding a ripped body under all those baggy, nerdy-branded tees he wore. His muscles would flex without him even trying and he didn’t even notice how badly you were drooling over him until he stopped looking at your weeping hole and remembered to redirect his gaze up.
Seeing how you’re staring at his abs like you wanted to take a bite out of him, he leaned all the way up and allowed himself to be on full display for you. His cock bobbed with its hardness due to the way you admired him.
He was only reminded again that his brother got this time and time again and was too selfish to share.
What an asshole.
Toru scoffed and let his head cock to the left, peaking down at his length still hanging over your lower abdomen. “Hm,” His hand moved and he began to measure himself in comparison to how deep inside you he’d be within the next few minutes—hand stopping only a few inches short of your belly button. “Does he reach this far?”
You flinched out of your gawking thoughts and moved your attention to where his hand was, gasping at the debauched sight in between your legs.
Truth be told, the fact that they were twins clearly applied to every inch of their bodies. But if you looked hard enough, you could notice that Sato’s is a bit longer while Toru’s has that veining thickness.
To avoid making the man jealous, you shrug and make eye contact with him again, “Put it in and find out.”
Toru laughs dryly and you throb. Something had changed from before. His shyness seemed like it hid itself away considering there was nothing shy about how he wrapped his hand around his cock and then let it slap slap slap! against your swollen folds.
Your body twitched at each slap but what caught his attention most is how your cunt salivated with each one.
“Huh. I think I figured it out,” Toru breathed, his glasses slipping a bit.
Then he guides his dick up to swab around your clit for a couple seconds just to see the way your hips instantly squirm up for more. The smile that drags out across his face is chillingly close to the one Sato wears while he fucks you.
“There it is,” Toru whispers, hauling his cock down and letting his plump tip poke against your hole to feel you clench, and then slide back. “That’s what you like. You like being teased.”
You were so needy that you felt your slick wetly sliding down your skin to pool beneath you, “N-No, I just—“
“Shhh, focus on how this feels, pretty girl.” He instructs. All the shakiness you normally heard in his speech was gone and replaced with something sinfully commanding—yearning only to teach you true pleasure. “See how my cock keeps slipping out? Mmgh,” He repeated his action from before and your hips bucked for more this time, making him huff. “Don’t you want it inside you sooo badly?”
Your hand reached down for him, trying your damndest to angle him into you, “I do. Toru please,” You pleaded delightfully.
His naturally submissive nature leads him to slip an inch in but the dewy warmth of your pussy makes him let out a stuttered gasp. Then he lets his cock slop right out of you with another ringing sound of filth spurring out into the air. His deft cockhead thwacks at your quivering hole again and your eyes roll back.
"Say that again." Toru grunts, slapping your parted folds with his cock again to emphasize his words, "Beg me for it."
Your back arches up off the bed this time and you’ve got the prettiest look of desperation on your face, "Mnh, please?"
Fuck. He was not strong enough to drag this out any longer.
Nor was he ready for how welcoming your cunt is for him. Swallowing him in inch by stretching inch, Toru’s left with a slacked jaw as he finally slides into you. Choking on his own breath, “O-Ohh… Oh fuck.” he pants, “You’re so wet. F-Fuck, were you always this wet? Shit..”
You let off a pleasant string of moans that make his cock twitch wildly inside you before he even makes it halfway in.
Managing a short breath, you smile up at him, “Didn’t know you could curse s’much, Toru.”
He knew right then and there he was fucked.
“G-Gonna cum,” He whimpers as he drops his face down into your neck. The singular utterance of his name is what did it for him.
You thought he was just being dramatic but when you feel velvety ropes of creamy cum flooding into you followed by his throaty grunts against the crook of your neck, you realize he was being everything but.
The man could barely move his hips and all he had to offer you was thick loads in sporadic spurts and whiny groans.
By the time you feel his cum escaping where the two of you are still connected, you’re slow to snort, “…Toru?”
“Shit,” He gasps immediately, “Shitshitshit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to cum,” His head flies up, white hairs sticking to his forehead from sweat and eyes all wide and apologetic on yours, “I just-, you felt so good. I couldn’t-, fuck. I’m—“
“It’s okay,” You giggle, moving your hands to cup his face, “Just keep goin’.”
“But-,” His eyes travel back and forth between your own as he continues to stare. It takes Toru a long moment to realize he’s… still hard.
With a breathless oh tumbling out of his kiss-bitten lips, he rolls his hips forward and pushes his cum deeper into you as a creamy squelch rings out. “O-Ohh, fuck. That sounds s’nasty...” He murmurs, arousal decorating his expression from the sound.
“Mhm,” You whir, tugging him down to kiss you.
If Sato had good stamina then, as twins, Toru should too, right?
A very intimate mess of his hips rocking down into you carries on with your lips sliding over one another. Unlike his older sibling who typically fucked like his every thrust guaranteed pleasure (it did), Toru moved inside you in the same way his mouth moved over yours—awkward but careful.
The streeeetch from his cock definitely made up for his lack of hurried strokes since his steady pace forced you to feel every prodding inch.
He may not have lasted long inside you without cumming but he was able to bring you to an orgasm of your own, whispering things into your mouth about how perfect you were—how his brother never deserved any of this.
It made your heart feel heavy and your cunt sloppily sang around his cock up until the sound of something dropping made you both gasp.
“What the fuck.” Sato’s voice was heard seething, having dropped the bag he had hanging off of his shoulder.
When Toru pulls away from you and glances back, you manage to move your head enough to catch a glimpse of how Sato stuck was staring at the way his twin was steadily fucking you to gentle tears.
“S-Sato,” You sputtered out, suddenly feeling Toru’s hand move to press down your lower abdomen—tightening the pressure around his cock and making him feel impossibly bigger inside you. “Ohmygod-,” Both men heard the way you choked, “M’gonna cum.”
Only to be interrupted by Toru scoffing, "Not yet. Someone has to teach this guy how to make you squirt, right?"
“No one has to teach me shit,” Sato argued as he fully entered his bedroom.
What a sight—his own brother fucking his favorite girl. Sato never thought he’d see the day, honestly.
Hell, he didn’t even know what to say. The sight of you two wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Toru had his face so it was like seeing himself fuck you. But, y’know, with glasses…
“Clearly someone does,” Toru’s delayed response came after he’d tugged his cock out of you, watching his cum sap out and soil his brother’s bedsheets. “Especially if I was able to do it.”
Rolling his eyes, “Bullshit.” Sato spat without letting his brother’s words register properly. When they finally do, an appalled expression colors over him, “Wait, what? No way, show me.”
Toru moves a hand to scratch the back of his neck, looking off to the side dorkishly, “Uh, we didn’t record it or anything–”
“No, I mean do it again, four eyes.” His older brother clarifies rudely.
You sit up at that. Glancing back and forth between the two for a moment and then settling your eyes onto Sato, “What?”
“I don’t believe him,” Sato huffs as comes to sit on the edge of his bed. Throwing his eyes onto you, “So, if he really made you squirt then surely he has no issue doing it again.”
You blink. “You want him to do that in front of you?”
“I want to see you squirt, period,” He admits, “I don’t care who gets it outta’ you at this point.”
You and Toru then exchange glances before looking at him.
“Well?” Sato scoffs. “If you’re gonna go out of your way to fuck in my bed, don’t stop now that I’m here. Put on a fuckin’ show for me.”
Ever so demanding he was…
——
Not that you or Toru seemed to care.
The next position you end up in is rather… precarious, to say the least.
You thought you were left stretched before but that feeling was utterly pale in comparison to what you felt now. Toru had you bouncing up and down his heavy cock, letting it talk you through every pummeling thrust by leaving sweltering smooches against the deepest crevices of your cunt.
Your maw was left to dangle open and you looked like a true slut in the eyes of the Gojo twins. As one fucked you beyond dumb, the other was sat in front of you with his hands wrapped around his shaft, his palm running up and down that wildly long cock of his as sticky precum glistened out from his tip.
Drool and spit trickled all down your jaw and fell onto the floor below and you couldn’t move in any way to escape Toru’s desperate thrusts.
The sound of sweaty skin slacking and clashing against one another echoed through Sato’s large bedroom whilst he watched and got off to the sight.
Your arms and legs were locked firmly in Toru’s grip and he was just using your pussy to satisfy that swollen ache he’d been dealing with for fuck knows how long now.
The remnants of his cum sobbed downwards and left a messy ring around his base, the pearly color nearly mocking the white happy trail of hair he had.
"Tighter-, hahh.. squeeze around me tighter, please." Toru muttered into your ear, having found himself pussydrunk and slopped. The walls of your pussy narrowed around him and his hips snapped up a little faster, "Good girl, just like that. F-Fuuck... you're gonna make me c-cum." Toru whimpered.
A singular gasp of, "Inside.” from your horribly sore throat makes both him and his brother groan.
"Again? Shiit," Toru sent a bragging smile ahead before bucking his hips up into you faster as if to prove a point. Still talking into your ear, "Y'want me to breed you in front of Sato? Damn, you're sluttier than I thought you'd be."
You feel his weighty balls pounding up against your skin as his cock bullied in deeper, your pussy stretched into the prettiest shape and molded perfectly around him.
Sato couldn’t take his eyes off the errotic sight and his hand moved faster, his own hips thrusting up as he reminisced on that feeling of positioning into you. The man swears he could feel you wrapped around him just from watching his brother handle you.
It was so different to see things from this perspective but fuck was it sexy. Your tits bounced as Toru dragged you up up upp and then let his hips meet you halfway with a needy thrust as he let your body come back down.
"Mmngh, Toru!" You moaned softly.
To which his teeth nipped at your ear, "It's so cute when you say my name like that," He huffs, "Do you like me that much? Hm? Like the way Toru treats this pussy?"
You weakly moved your head in agreement, tears running down your cheeks, "Uhuhh… f-fuuuck, Toru. M’cummin.”
His movements grew faster then, ruder. The plump crown of his cock mashed into that sweet spot of yours over and over and over as if to make the spot his new home—imprint himself there permanently.
Breathing all heavy against you, “S’okay, let it out, sweetheart. Show him what he should be making you do, yeah?”
Sato cums a split second before it actually happens, based on the fact that it was about to happen. Thank god you were too drunk to see it because he’s watching with teary eyes as you squirt all over Toru—his dick slipping out of you because of it and the mess spraying ahead filthily.
Your pussy quivers from the release and you’re whining all through it, the cooing sound of Toru whispering you through your high prominence in your ear. You could barely think, barely breathe because of the intensity of it all.
When you calm down from it, Toru’s still got you in his arms and all you’re left to focus on is Sato’s pouty face as he continues to stroke himself.
“Well, fuck. Look at you,” He spoke hoarsely the moment he noticed your attention on him, his head resting back against his headboard, “Just a whore for some Gojo cock, huh?”
Your head barely bobs in response—far too dazed to answer that with a properly functioning brain.
Sato’s hand squeezes around his tip and his brows furrow, “Yeahhh? Y’liked watching me jerk off like some pathetic loser while I let my brother fuck you?” He hardly waited for another answer out of you before nodding his chin, “Bet you do. Look at that pussy, so fuckin’ wet from this.”
Toru’s easing you down on the bed in between the both of them, puffing, “Unfair of you to keep her all to yourself, Sato.”
Keeping things simple, “I’m willing to share now.”
…
Things should have ended there. Seriously.
But, allas, the hold these two have over you appeared to be much stronger than you thought.
“Wrap those lips around me, baby.” Sato had requested, watching your shaky limbs move in between his legs.
Toru was somewhere behind you, diving his face back into your cunt to… clean the mess he left in there, apparently.
Out of both of them, Toru was definitely the more perverted one—currently eating his own cum out of your cunt after giving you some bullshit excuse about wanting to keep you clean.
All he wanted was to stick his tongue inside you again. You weren’t that dumb.
While you gathered Sato’s cock into your palm and let your lips press into his tip, he hissed as his face twisted up due to sensitivity. Easing a hand onto your head, “Atta girl. Choke on this dick while he cleans you up. Wanna see every inch down that throat.”
His words never failed to leave your cunt soused, a physical reaction of which met Toru’s compliant tongue.
Sato’s bed was a mess of all sorts of fluids—overly due for a washing after all that had taken place thus far. His cock was somewhere in the back of your throat and he felt your moans tremble against him whenever Toru slurped against you just right.
The three of you were lazy with everything by now and the only thing that made the Gojo siblings perk up was when you ended up gifting Toru’s mouth with another raining mess.
Oh, Sato was in awe at the sight all over again. So much so that it’s what caused his next orgasm. He was so dazed by your squirting that he didn’t even bother to ask you to swallow what he’d just unconsciously thrusted into your throat.
Normally that’s his favorite part; watching or asking you to swallow his seed. Yet, he’d missed all of that because seeing his brother’s face smothered in your wetness left him shocked.
“Ohhh, shit. That was more than the first time.” Toru said as he finally pulled himself from in between your legs.
Sato’s ears twitch and he cocks a brow. Daze broke completely, “First time?” he asked. It was clear he still didn’t believe that his geeky, clumsy, and overall awkward sibling made that happen before he walked in.
Toru looks at his brother, “Yeah… More than the first time she squirted.”
Sato stares. “You… You made her squirt before I got here?” Disbelief was evident in his tone.
He chuckles, “You asked me that like it’s hard or something, of course I did.”
You pull yourself up from Sato’s softening cock just in time and give the two slow blinks while transferring your gaze back and forth. Sleepiness wasn’t slow to overcome you.
Sato met your eyes with his pointed ones and puffed all brat-like, “Soooo… you’re gonna do that for only me next time, right?”
There’s not a singular thought inside your head as you blatantly ignore him. Then, you turn over and plop onto the bed to lay down—back facing the two of them.
“Hello?” Sato taps your shoulder and then jokingly adds a comedic, “Chat, am I muted…?”
Toru snorts with a shake of his head, getting out the bed to start cleaning up the mess you three collectively made within the past few hours.
Then, you’re wondering if the roles had reversed for a second when he grumbles, “Fuckin’ loser…”
