"I know," you coo, scratching your nails over his scalp as he kisses down your body.
"I can't believe you're letting me fuck you," he whispers, spreading your legs further open so he can crawl between them. "You gonna let me eat you out too?"
"Hmm... if you say please."
"Please, baby, please. I'll do whatever you want. Just lemme have a taste."
"Well, since you asked so nicely," you purr, reaching between your legs to pull your pussy lips apart, "I'll let you have a couple licks."
when it comes to love, eren is vocal. he finds it to be the most beautiful language, unspoken yet understood through warmth, heart, touch. thatâs what make it come easy to him.Â
despite his many tongues, he isn't a man who lingers over words. not deliberately, at least. there isn't any careful scripting to the way he speaks, no rehearsed cadence meant to charm or ensnare. and yet, somehow, he always knows what to say.
he knows. that exact murmur that'll settle warm against your ear, low and smooth when he instructs you to stay close, hold onto him, spread your legs wider, arch your back further . . . he knows, the subtle shift in tone that sends a ripple down your spine, the kind that makes your body listen. his voice moves through him without thought.
when considering his mother tongue, though, you almost feel as though he avoids it with you. eren doesnât go out of his way to shape his tongue around german, not when he knows the meaning would be lost somewhere between his lips and your understanding. he never makes any deliberate attempt to impress you with a language you can't follow. he speaks to you in ways you will understand, in ways that settle easily into you, invoke your pretty smile.
itâs his pet names that linger insteadâ sounding all soft and familiar, worn warm from use. the ones he returns to without thinking, like second nature. schatzi. simply sweet. ever so precious. the word curls from his mouth with an ease that feels almost absentminded, yet never careless. and liebling, his favorite, his darling. itâs usually spoken quieter, closer, like it belongs to you and him alone.
those are the few words you come to know. not by translation, but how theyâre given. by the way his voice lowers around them, the way they brush against your skin like something tangible.
mixed by blood, eren's heritage lives in the small details about him more than anything else; his cadence, his features, his mannerisms. he doesn't necessarily talk about it. his tongues, german and turkish, live elsewhere. like in fleeting moments on the phone with his family, voice softened with a familiarity different from the kind he shows you.
it's admirable, how effortlessly he slips into the rhythm of home when catching up with his mother and father. you hear it only then, in fragments and tones, something distant. you try to glimpse into that part of him, but he leaves it unshared.Â
it isn't that your boyfriend withholds any aspects of his life, or his culture, from you. rather, he lets untranslatable words fall as they come, shaped more by his feeling than intentionality. there's a certain intimacy in that. he thinks that you don't have to understand every syllable to feel the weight of it.
because with him, it's about how it lingers in the space between you long after the words have fallen away.
you know eren doesnât make much use of deutsch in his everyday life, no. it remains tucked away as the one thing he doesn't reach for, but something that exists all the same. and maybe, that's what makes it all the more enticing, when it surfaces in the moments his control finally begins to slip.
itâs in those instances, when his breath grows uneven and composure frays at the edges, that something from deep within him begins to rise unbidden. words he doesn't consciously choose, tones he typically wouldn't shape, leaving him in a low, broken lilt. there's nothing intentional about it, just the rawness of instinct when the sensation is so overwhelming that he can't help himself any longer.
and in that unraveling, there's something disarmingly sensual. not just the act itself, or the hot slide of his hands when he touches you, but a side of him that can't be hidden away, revealed only when he's too far gone to hold it back.
"scheisse!"
it slips out of him without warning. his mindâs so muddled by the way your dewy walls squeeze his cock that he doesnât even think to translate. heâs drawn fully into the hilt of your gushing pussy, his presence heavy both in-and-outside of you. he's got you splayed out on your back, displayed ever so beautifully, soft textured hair fanning out on the pillows, like that of a halo. how fitting, for his precious angel.Â
eren has you tucked under the breadth of him and slovenly folded into missionary, your body immovably pressed beneath the heat and heaviness of his imposing frame. his attention narrows on you, you, you, until nothing else seems to exist outside of it.
your trembling leg is held in his left palm, secured at the pit of your knee as he guides it up against your shoulder as a means to fucks deeper into you. his other hand rests hot upon your waist, grip tightening whenever you react, kneading at warm brown flesh whenever you clamp down on him. he's unrelenting with how he draws out, plows in, does it again, again, again. dense clapping resounds in hollow echoes throughout the dim-lit bedroom of his paradis-city penthouse.
"eâren! eren, erennn,â his name falls fractured from your lips, each syllable hitching as it leaves you. he hears it, and something in him shifts. a slow, unmistakable reaction that pulls at the corner of his mouth before it fully settles into a smile. it spreads wide, brazen and sharp in a way that looks as feral as he feels; all teeth, cutting sharp and boyish across his face, features drawn tight with ardor.
pleasure has already taken hold of him; face flushed, sweat gathering and rolling in narrow paths down his skin. his dark manbun sits slightly undone at the base of his head, loose strands slipping free to cling to his temples and the nape of his neck, his tattooed body damp with the same heat that coats him. his brows, thick and dark, knit tightly together, while his bright-teal eyes stay intense and wild, fixed on you with a look that doesnât waver. youâre his maker and weakness alike, the only thing holding his focus together as he unravels for you.
"komm schon, engel," eren dips low, his large frame folding over yours, shoulders rounding as he closes the space between you, brushing the plush of your lips with his own. "hngh, whaâ?" you whine against his mouth, needing of clarity. his breath is warm and close when he murmurs, earnest for a taste of your lips, "kĂŒss mich."
you donât fully comprehend him, but eren closes the gap regardless, until thereâs nowhere left for your voice to go but into him. his large hand lifts up, cups your jaw nice and steady, tilts you upwards just enough to meet him as he presses his lips to yours. firm at first, then deeper, more claiming than it is gentle. when he pulls back, itâs only by a breathâs width, enough for the curve of his smile to linger against your mouth.Â
his hips take to a slow roll, grinding into yours so sweetly. the rounded end of his hard cock nudges the inner pudge of your softest spots, with the lean ridge of his pelvis brushing over the sensitive peak of your clit. the both of you hold no inhibitions, breaths pouring into each other's mouths in uneven waves, panting and moaning with not a sound refrained.
him and you, you and him, him in you. all sense becomes lost in a heated slew of sloppy strokes and the wettest kisses. he's making such a mess of you; stealing your breath, bruising your flesh, fucking stirring your insides.
for eren, countless sensations begin to merge. your velveteen walls are clamping down, tight, on his pulsing dick, dripping and sobbing all over the length of it. then there's the way you cling to him, just ferocious. the powder-white arch of your fresh nails do well at drawing fiery marks down the broad plane of his tatted back. his olive skin is warm and damp under your palms, glowing sheen with a film of sweat.Â
your breath brushes against the reddening shell of his pierced ear, sounds uneven and soft in a way that makes him grow impossibly harder. eren responds in kind, groans amplified, his hold at your waist tightening just enough to keep you anchored to the you-shaped dip in his king sized mattress. you're so pretty, so perfect; behaving so well that all he wants to do is just give you more.Â
so he does.Â
"shh, lass mich einfach . . stillhalten." erenâs hands span down your shaking thighs, dancing around around your calf until they close around both of your ankles. his fingers wrap fully, thumbs rubbing circles while the rest of his grip adjusts you without effort. he translates what he knows you didn't catch, "don't move."Â
eren shapes the physical space between you, and he continues to bend you at angles until the right silhouette is captured. he brings your knees toward your shoulders, folding the form until thighs press firmly against the core of your tummy. shifting his weight low, he transitions into a deep squat, strong thighs flexed as he assumes the position of sitting on his haunches, all without pulling out of you.
with the new vantage, he drives forward and plunges into the tightness of you with sudden, intense momentum that draws the sharpest, most involuntary cry from your lungsâ a sound that brings a knowing smile to his face. eren frees self-satisfied laughter, for he always manages to pry out the very reaction he sought to provoke. he finds your body familiar. so easy to mold, too easy to play with.
"ffuuuck! p-please, papaaa, pleaseâ"
his response comes rippling out as an unintended growl, sourced from the depths of his chest, and the bass of it makes you clench helplessly around him. with every surge, every thrust forward, he loses another piece of his restraint. an especially taut squeeze of your soaked pussy is all it takes for his snark to dissolve into total surrender.
"fuck . . du bist so eng," his words grow reckless to match just how you undo him. he rambles on about just how tight you are, freeing terribly desperate praise and german incoherencies. he's too far gone to realize he'd even switched languages. frankly, eren doesn't even know what he's saying anymore, and you sure as hell donât either. itâs hard to follow when heâs digging you out like that; hips slamming down, the fat of his balls clapping against the seam of your ass with every thrust.
more foreign words tumble from his lipsâ dark, guttural, yet somehow melodic, leaving you in a haze of both lust and confusion. despite it, your body understands the intent perfectly. the way you arch into him, cunt swallowing every known inch of his dick whole, slick walls clamping around him like a desperate vice, tells him everything he needs to know.Â
eren finally seems to be returning to himself, eyes clearing as he grows aware; and with that, comes the teasing. another predatory smirk pulls at his mouth as he realizes just how cockdrunk heâs made you, sensitive even down to the veins that drag within you. and so, he draws out the friction, slows his pace to an agonizing crawl, buries himself into you with impossible depth.
each heavy thrust knocks at your cervix and prods at the very limit of you, blunt and demanding, as if heâs trying to leave his mark on your very soul. he's so all-consuming that the heady scent of his skin and the licking heat of his salt-slicked body fills your lungs. youâre crying, you think, unsure as to when it started. all you know is youâre breathing him in, tasting the raw, primal edge of him with every gasp and tear you choke on.Â
"aww, poor baby,â he croons, tone darkened with condescend, âmacht dich das an, schatzi?" he murmurs, the grunted slew of german humming against your skin. heâs asking if it turns you onâ the suddenly rough shift into his mother tongue, and though the meaning of his words escape your mind, you can only nod helplessly, teeth sinking into the swell of your spit-streaked lip as a flush burns across your chest.
"feels good, yeah? i'm fucking you so deep, aren't i? mm, c'mon, angel . . . talk to me, talk to daddy." he eases more of his weight onto your pressed frame, feeding you deep, languid strokes so slow you can hear the wetness sloshing.
"yeahhh, it's good, er-en . . hnn, feelssogood, d-daddyyy," his name tears out of you in a pulled shudder, the syllables breaking over one another. itâs the type of sound that invites his wolfish grin, curled with a special kind of satisfaction. his smile is purely predatory when he gets to hitching your leg up higher, rocking into you faster. the lewdness of unfiltered noise begins to swell throughout the room.
before long, you're both trembling over the pace heâs taken; his fingers twitching along your pushed-up thighs, while you're left grappling for purchase along his bulging, corded biceps, your fingers digging into the sinuous centipede inked across his firm rounded muscle. frantically, you cling to one another as the world outside seems to fade away.
eren leans in, ink-dark strands escaping his hairtie, feathering your neck, and cascading over his shoulder to curtain your faces. overzealous, he captures your lips with his own once more, silencing your soft sounds with a deep kiss that tastes as saccharine as love itself, wettened by the salted twinge of adrenaline. his moans tumble out of him helplessly once you get to licking at his tongue. he juts it out for you to suckle on.
the tension brews to a fever pitch. youâre close, and so is he.
"komm und hol mich," he wantsâno, needs you to cum for him, pleads in breathless sounds so gritty that you can feel them pass through your bones. those bright-teal eyes, glassed over with brimming tears of pleasure, desperately lock onto yours. his touch is just as urgent.
eren brings the calloused pad of his thumb to your clit, each deliberate rub a targeted press that sends fresh jolts of heat spiraling through your tummy, makes your hips buck up into the onslaught. his breath comes out in ragged puffs as his fleshy, kiss-bruised lips meet your ear, grazing the shell, words unfamiliar yet sweet all the same. âkomm auf meinen schwanz, bitte.â the vulnerable rawness of his voice is a love language all in its own. something in you knows to follow his command, even if the meaning is a mystery.Â
that building pressure low in your gut begins to coil, tightening into a concentrated knot that demands release. itâs a heavy, mercurial ache that pulses in sync with his movements, making your vision swim as you reach the precipice. your every nerve-ending screams for the sweet, sweet release that only his next deliberate strike can provide.
as for eren, his focus is simply fractured; hands moving with a restlessness that betrays how close he is to the edge. he lifts his free hand to knead and possess the soft weight of your right breast, his grip firm and demanding, before his fingers lift to heedlessly lace around your neck, as a means to keep you pinned in the middle of the storm of his movements.Â
that same grasp trails away from pressing your artery, slinks down, and squeezes a big, greedy handful of ass into one palm alone. he delivers one smackâ two, three. the fourth leaves red in its wake, blooming faint along warm-brown flesh. he merely smiles when you mewl at him.Â
the combination he grants you is far too much, too fucking frantic; the stinging heat of his palm against your skin and the possessive weight of his hand at your throat leaves you feeling hazy and unmoored, your thoughts dissolving into a thoughtless, honeyed fog.
a few more of those slowed, plunging thrusts, paired with how nicely he toys with your puffy clit, is what finally shatters the dam and sends rolling waves of your orgasm to crash right through you. it washes over, heavy and thick, the feeling purely electric as it zips through the base of your spine all the way down to your tightly curled toes. your quivering legs lock around his lean waist as he fucks you through the height of it, dark-chestnut hair swinging over hunched shoulders.
"don't you let go yetâ m'not done." eren rasps against your agape lips, voice a broken wreck. he taps your soft cheek in two firm pats when your eyes begin to flutter shut, peers at you through hooded eyes, forcing bitten words out through grit teeth, "look at me, schatzi," his fingers tangle into the soft, dense curls of your hair to tilt your head his way. "you came so fuckin' hard, tell me you felt thatâshit! mm, p-please, baby . . tell me youâre mine."
you manage to open your mouth, try for an answer, but every brutal impact of his hips knocks the air from your chest, splintering your voice into meaningless little sounds. the rhythm of his pounding, loud and heavy, turns shaky and imprecise as he utterly loses the battle for control. you can see the strain in the way his adamâs apple bobs in his throat, his breath hitching as he teeters on the edge.Â
eren frames your face with a sudden tenderness, his large hands encompassing either side of your head as if youâre the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth itself. he pulls you in until your foreheads touch, eyes locking in a feral, heavy-lidded stare that teases at his release. you babble out his name with every sloppy knock of his hips.
your inner walls clamp down in a steady, involuntary pulse around him, and the friction becomes too much for him to bear. then comes a guttural sound, ripping straight from his chest, followed by a smaller, vulnerable whimper that echoes out, almost like a plea:
"scheisse, ich kommeâ fffuuuck!"
he jolts forward with an almost animalistic force, burying himself to the very hilt as the first warm, heavy spurts of his release spill free from his cockhead and into your awaiting womb. you feel him throbbing deep within your silken walls, the pulsing erratic as he stuffs your cunt with thick loads of his cum; emptying himself, filling you.
a hushed stillness sets over eren's thirtieth-floor apartment. all movement drifts to a weighty pause; until, eren eventually collapses his full weight onto you with a long, shuddering sigh. the solid, unyielding mass of him drives a soft huff out from your throat, pinning you into the charcoal sheets in a way that feels strangely grounding.
his inked forearms bind around you like vines, pulling your bodies flush-tight until thereâs no room left between you. in turn, you drape your arms over the broad expanse of his back, your thumbs tracing soothing circles over the angry, reddened lines of the skin you tore.Â
"ughâ rennie, you're heavy."
"mmn." is his heedless response. you both lie there in a tangled, breathless heap of afterglow, your lungs working for shallow air as the adrenaline begins to recede. after threading through the dark, damp silk of his long hair, weaving and undoing braids in the same sitting, your arms finally loosen their hold around his nape. eren nuzzles his face into the soft swell of your breasts, the tip of his nose grazing the sensitive bone of your sternum as he seeks out your warmth.
a small, balmy laugh escapes you, the sound light and surreal against the dense, syrup-thick atmosphere. the air is heavy, saturated with the salt-sharp scent of skin, the musk of his cologne, the lingering sugar of your arab perfume, and the sweet, pungent tang of your collective releaseâ a sensory memento of every orgasm you just shared.
"damn . .â the silence breaks around his voice, low and winded, âdidn't think yâhad a kink for that."
"hmm," you blink slow, the wisps of your curled lashes fluttering. "for what?"
"uh-uh, don't play dumb now," eren noses your jugular, tickling your neck with a nudge so fleeting you canât help but break, a shy giggle bubbling up and out into the open. "could've just told me you wanted me to switch languages, princess."
âi didn't even know it was something iâd enjoy that much," you bite down on a drowsy laugh, manicured fingers lifting to idly twirl a stray, dark lock of his hair. youâre secretly glad his hair-tie snapped under the pressure.
"i like the way your brain just . . . shorts out when you hear it. makes you so . . ." a kiss, breaking the pattern of speech, is pressed to your upturned lips, so pink and soft.
ââmuch more," another, then a suckle to your jaw, "âresponsive." there's a gravel-like texture to the sound of his teasing. "i don't think i've ever heard you get that loud before, baby.â eren hums aloud onto your skin, a low rumble of pure satisfaction that thrums low in his throat and vibrates against your chest.
he shifts his weight just enough to pepper wet, uncoordinated kisses along the sensitive expanse of your throat, his every movement sluggish with pleasure.Â
âverdammt gut,â he murmurs against your skin, testing the effect he has over you, simply wishing to witness how tightly youâd pulse around him in response. sure enough, he smiles to himself when you do, walls clamping down where he remains stuffed inside you. a whispered moan falls from you, eyes screwed impossibly tight.Â
his lips latch to your pulse as he mouths praises you donât need to translate to understand. the meaning sounds as sweet as his kisses taste. âdu bist so gut, liebling.â even though his brain's misted over with lust, and his dick is still warmly nestled deep inside you, he canât help but nip playful marks into your flesh. you find yourself cooing at his affections, your fingers tangling in the deep-brown spill of his hair as you shallowly rock your hips onto his softening cock.Â
he mumbles more foreign little nothings into the damp, sweat-slicked crook of your neck, the tone so tender it feels like a physical caress.Â
âich liebe dich so sehr, angel . . .â he breathes, the confession soft and embracing against your skin. itâs meaning is devotional, so unmistakable; he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.Â
the ardency of the past hour's lovemaking seems to evaporate, leaving only the two of you sinking in the cooling sheets. from the crevice of your chest to his broadened one, your hearts beat heavy against one another in a synced tempo.
with one last, lingering kiss to your collarbone, eren lets his heavy eyelids fall shut. the silence that follows isn't empty. instead, itâs full and warm, smelling of salt, sandalwood, and the raw fragrancy of his adoration.
the darkness of the room feels like a protective veil. in the stillness, with his warmth still grounding you and his scent filling your lungs, you finally let your own eyes close, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep cradled in the arms of the man who loves you more than he has the words to say.
"If you just let me. I can be him. You can call his name. Pretend he's touching you."
Six months since đšđđđ started pursuing you.
The setting sun over jujutsu tech glared you down as your back pressed into the bridge's wooden beams. Was Satoru's glare in the horizon? Was his judgement in the sky? Were his chastises whispered in the wind that kissed your cheek?
His eyes were above you.
His hair tickling your forehead.
His hands on you.
His. But not his. Not your husband. Not Satoru.
Just the man who wore his skin.
Yuta shedded his a long time ago. A miscalculation. A medical horror. Returning to his body became impossible and so, he remained in the man who was once yours. Now twenty three, and all he wanted?
You.
Before you, he stood. Looming over you the way that Satoru did. Caressing your cheek the way that Satoru did.
Whispering to you the way that Satoru did.
"I have his memories," he said, thumb tracing a familiar line on your cheekbone. "I know how he touched you. I know how he loved you. I can love you the same."
He leaned closer. Diminishing both the space between you and your shame.
"We can play pretend," he promised.
The same way Satoru had promised that he would come home.
The same way you had promised him that no one else would ever hold your heart, your body, your soul.
You broke your promise.
All it took was a kiss. From lips you remembered. From a mouth that worshipped you every day of your short marriage.
Your downfall were his hands. Familiar. Once yours. The wedding ring he still wore out of reverence for his sensei.
A kiss. A touch. A memory. That's all it took.
All it took for the sheets to welcome your back. For your thighs to welcome his head. Your hands greeting white hair that you once stroked so tenderly when the world caved in on him.
Your Satoru.
Not your Satoru.
Satoru's body.
Your Satoru's body.
Between your legs. Worshipping you. As he always did. With big, scarred hands spreading you apart. With a tongue that knew every inch of you. A voice that praised you.
The same way your husband would.
"So sweet, taste so so good, sweet girl," the groan soaked into your slick. An aphrodisiac of its own. Seeping into your veins. Dizzying your mind.
"Toru," you whimpered.
Toru.
Satoru.
Your Satoru.
He's not your Satoru.
But you moaned for him as if he was.
Tugged onto his hair. Ground into his face. Whimpered his nameâ as if he was.
Two orgasms on his tongue alone. Yuta proved that he had committed to his sensei's memories. He knew exactly how to fuck you on the pink muscle. Where to touch. What pressure.
His thumb stroked along your slit. Tracing the quivers as his lips occupied your clit. Sucking on its pulses and worming out another devastating orgasm out of you.
Three. You came three times.
The same number Satoru worked you up to before he kissed you. Held you. Fucked you.
Yuta committed to the routine. Kissed you. Spread your thighs.
Pressed his dick to your twitching cunt.
Shushed your cries.
Held you.
Fucked you.
Your body forgot, but your mind didn't. The stretch burned and tears pricked at your eyesâ but your mind keened. Slipped. Soaked in the memory of him.
Of your husband.
Of Satoru.
As Yuta's hips engraved new memories into your thighs.
As his fingers blossomed new bruises.
As his mouth kissed you with a new hunger.
Your arms hugged around his neck. Breath stuttering. Voice breaking. Every plunge of his cock stroked the fire deeper into you. Unravelling your mind into a messy heap of tears and needy.
Rough pants fanned above you. His brows pinched at the centre. One hand gripping your thigh and the other cupped beneath your head. Yuta's thrusts were as nasty as Satoru's. Deep, fast, taking you apart from the inside out.
"That's it. There you go," he huffed, white lashes fluttering. "There's my girl."
"Satâ toru," you sobbed. Because maybe crying would make it real.
Maybe it'd wake you up from this terrible nightmare.
"You're doing so well, sweetheart." His voice slipped into your ear. Clenched your heart. Squeezed your cunt as your nails raked down his back.
"Toru," you whimpered. "T-Toru, toru please. I needâ I need you. I need you."
His thumb found your clit, your back bowed into the pleasure. Another sob shook from your lungs. Reaching out for him. Not Yuta. Not his body. Him.
But it was Yuta who cupped your face. With Satoru's hand.
Yuta who bottomed out. Fucked you deeper. With Satoru's cock.
Yuta who whispered to you. With Satoru's voice.
"I'm here." He lied, so sweetly.
As his hips drove fasterâ and faster. Grinding into all of the sweetspots that Satoru knew. That were now at his disposal.
"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart." He lied, so gently.
As he hugged you close. Took you higherâ and higher. Perfectly choreographed to the memory he committed to.
Playing with your clit, with Satoru's fingers.
Praising you, with Satoru's words.
Kissing you, with Satoru's lips.
"I'm gonna cum," you cried, and he licked your tears away. Cradled your face. Whispered tenderly.
"Cum," eyes so blue, eyes once yours, stared deep into your soul. Deceived you with promises that had already been broken. "Cum for me. Cum for 'toru, baby. C'mon."
The heat, the need, the memoriesâ they all rushed into a knot that snapped in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes rolled back. Body arched. Tensed.
"Satoruâ t-toru. Toru, miss you. I miss you."
You sobbed his name when you came.
Clung to his shoulders.
Squeezed his cock.
But you knew.
That it wasn't him that held you.
Wasn't him that smacked his hips into yours.
Wasn't him that groaned deep, even if it was his voice.
Wasn't him that stilled, that moaned your name, that filled you to the brim and kept pumping as you shook with whimpers.
Eyes so blue. Eyes once yours.
But in your heart, you knew. Satoru was dead.
Knew that the thing wearing his skin wasn't him.
And that the only one who caressed your face, kissed you, told you that he loved youâ wasn't your husband.
‷ ă ËËË bf!megumi trying to keep up with you during ovulation
content: mdni, smut, all characters are 18+, dom!megumi, sub!reader, fem!reader, marathon sex, squirting, praise kink (use of âgood girlâ a lot), degradation (âcum dumpâ, âsluttyâ, etc.), size kink if you squint carefully, spitting, tit groping, fingering
bunnyâs notes: iâm not even ovulating but whenever i see an edit of megumi, im suddenly in heat. itâs not even funny. also creds to @cursed-carmine for the bow dividers!!
itâs that time of the month. not your period but that time of the month where you cannot function like a regular human being because all you can think about is cock. specifically a black urchin-haired guyâs cock.
youâre practically thinking with your sopping wet pussy as you made your way to your boyfriendâs dorm in a tank top and shorts. you push the door open to be greeted by the glorious sight of your man sitting against the headboard of his bed with a book in his large, veiny hands.
he glances up at your arrival, the hard lines of his brows immediately softening, his jaw becoming less tense, and his eyes instantly warm up at the sight of you. oh, lovely you.
âhey, howâs my pretty baby doing?â megumi asks in such a sincere and gentle voice, it makes you melt. itâs the voice he always uses with you. but little does he know, youâre not here to melt in his arms. youâre here to seduce the man.
you climb onto his bed on all fours facing him, hands and knees cushioned by his mattress. the same mattress that you wanna get pounded stupid into.
you put on the prettiest, most adorable pout you could muster. round, doe eyes fixed on him as if silently pleading for something. gosh, in his eyes, you really were the most precious thing in his world. the perfect picture of doll-like innocence, the epitome of loveliness.
âgumi⊠i need helpâŠâ you quietly plead.
your boyfriendâs eyes slightly widen, his back straightening as he inquires immediately, âwhat do you need help with, sweetheart? tell me.â
you unconsciously rub your thighs together, shaking your hips subtly in an attempt to relieve the throbbing from your core. your drooling cunt was so drenched, your panties were already damp.
you pout even more, pretty pink lips jutting out more. you grasp his wrist to guide his hand to rest on your boob, his large hand practically covering your entire breast. you mumble softly, âneed you to touch me, gumi, please⊠itâs starting to hurtâŠâ
your manâs eyes quickly darken as he squeezes your tit, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. he palms you through your tank top, squeezing again. he rasps, his voice gravelly low, âturn around and bend over for me, baby. show me where itâs hurting.â
you turn around and make quick work of your tank top, throwing it onto the floor. you bend over on your forearms and knees, putting your perfect ass on display just for him. you push your ass closer to him. âhere, gumi⊠hurts hereâŠâ
megumi pulls down your shorts along with your moist panties to see your soaking pussy winking at him. he drags his hand up your slit. âhere, pretty baby?â
you let out a sigh of relief before you start urging him, âplease, gumi, donât tease⊠want your cock inside me nowâŠâ
he slips his thick, rough index finger into your pussy. he mutters, âfuck, youâre tight. gotta open you up, darling. youâre already squeezing my finger so tightly, you wonât be able to fit my dick.â
you squirm, pushing your hips back onto his hand. âa-ah! i-iâm a big girl, gumi. i can takeâ mmm!! i can take it!â
âbaby, be good and make a mess on my fingers. youâll get my cock after.â he adds a second finger then a third as he pumps you full. his thumb rubs on your sensitive bud as he brings you to climax all over his rugged hands. as you fall apart on his hand, you cry out his name with your head buried into the sheets. he sings his praises, âgoood girl, darling. such a good girl for me.â
he takes out his hand, popping it into his mouth to clean. after sucking it clean, he quickly pulls down his sweats with his boxers.
you turn your pretty head to look over your shoulder. his dick slaps against his stomach, the tip an angry red. megumi grabs himself at his girthy base, pumping a few strokes. the sight makes your mouth water.
you then feel his bulging, warm tip resting against your soaked slit. you just couldnât resist as your hips push back to try to take him. his rough hands fly to your hips, holding you still. âfuck, baby, stay still, yeah? lemme just get the tip in.â
one hand keeps your hip still as the other hand holds himself as he pushes into your warm pussy. you gasp at the sensation, border-lining pain and pleasure. he sighs in relief, âholy shi⊠so warm, so tight, sweetheart⊠i only got the tip in and youâre squeezing me like that, hm?â
you grip his sheets, feeling the stretch as you babble on, âmore, gumi, moreeee⊠a-ah!â
megumi continues to slowly push in more until you feel his pelvis pressing into your asscheeks and his cum-filled balls firm against your clit. your spiky-haired boyfriend groans after bottoming out.
now youâre all filled up. a little too full, you swear his tip is kissing your cervix and probably making a dent. you could probably cum just from him stuffing you full.
you whine angelically, âgumi, gumi, gumi!! so deep⊠youâre too biggg!!
rough hands start groping your tits, squeezing them like stressballs. megumi bends over you, his chest to your back, to rasp huskily against your ear, âpretty baby, youâve taken my cock many times before. nowâs no different.â
he begins to shallowly thrust into you while pinching and pulling at your nipples, making your back arch.
the wave of pleasure suddenly surges and crashes as you cum around him. you let out a symphony of whimpers of his name and whorish moans. his words practically sound like a melody to you. âgood girl, darling. what a good girl. cumming around me so pretty and saying my name.â
itâs not long until you start begging for more. âgumi, harder⊠i want it harder. please fuck me til i canât walkâŠâ
megumi holds you by the waist as he deepens each thrust until heâs driving into you like a madman. âanything for you, baby.â
âââ ê° á§à·á§ ê± âââ
itâs been like 6-7 rounds. his room basically turned into a hot sauna that reeked of sex. the dark blue-eyed sorcerer was completely drained, drained of energy and cum. he already dumped all his seed into you.
but you, on the other hand, are bouncing on his dick like your life depends on it.
his back rests against the headboard, hands on your hips as you ride him, your dainty fingers on his broad shoulders to help you jump on that dick.
your thighs are burning like a thousand suns, your legs giving up as you land on his lap with a wet plop! you moan, half in pleasure and half in frustration, as you begin to grind against him, âgumi!! wanna cum⊠but i- ha! i canât⊠too⊠hmph! too tiredâŠâ
your boyfriend underneath you pants as he grips your hips and gently murmurs, âhold onto my shoulders tightly, angel.â
you grip onto his scratched up shoulders, the marks left by you. he lifts you up before shoving you back down on his member. âmy pretty princess, my sweet angel⊠you really canât do anything without my help, huh?â
you moan dumbly, more of your juices soaking his balls, the sheets, his thighs, your legs, and everywhere else as you near your release.
megumi picks up the pace, bouncing you up and down. âbaby, iâm gonna take such good care of you and your needy pussy. just be a good girl and take it.â
as he shoves you back down onto his swollen cock, you squirt with a loud scream, forcing him out of you as you gush onto his dick, the sheets, and his thighs.
you start to feel his hips lifting to ram into you, his movement erratic now as he lowly groans, âmy horny girl. what a slutty pussy you got, always begging me to fuck you and squirting everywhere. iâm gonâ cum and youâre gonâ take every single last drop iâm gonna give you, yeah? be a good horny cum dump, yeah, baby?â
your boyfriend holds you down onto his lap with a groan as the last of his cum spurts into your full pussy, already overflowing with previous loads.
megumiâs chest heaves as he pants, catching his breath. his hair is sticking to his sweat-sheened forehead.
youâre not faring off much better as you feel sore and exhausted all over. your sweaty cheek is pressed to his soaked chest, listening to the perfect metronome of his heartbeat.
seconds turns to minutes before you start grinding against him again. a nasty squelch! sound rang throughout the room followed by a groan from your man.
he peers down at you as you bat your delicate lashes and flash him a small smile as you ask him oh so sweetly that he canât refuse.
a jealousy that gnaws at the meat of the heart, puncturing the chambers with itâs honed tusks. a vortex of some crude and ludicrous envy had been bisecting your boyfriendâs soul.
satoru has had girls before: impish one nights with colleagues, strangers who wanted a taste, temporary relations solely based on coital desires. yet, he was tormented by the mere ghost of your ex boyfriendâfrom high school.
the phantom had been harrowing him. a guy before him. an ex lover at that. you had off-handedly snorted about how your ex had gotten married. that was all but enough for an inquisition by satoru. âno, i did not have sex with him. only made out and..â âand what?â âgot ate out once.â
heaven and hell must have conjoined to give you a boyfriend like him because the fleeting mention of an ex had satoru gravitate you to the edge of a searing orgasm.
âhe ate you out, yeah?â he uttered with pure vex, inching his fingers close to your wet panties. his three fingers rubbed slow circles on your sticky clothed mound, tracing your protruding outline. a deep groan escaped from the crevices of his teeth, a lick on his canines and a slow tug from the hem of your panties. there it was, the raw cunt with itâs slobbering folds. âwhatâs got you so wet huh? me or that highschool fucker?â oh, he was so jealous.
âgodâplease. only you âtoruâ you pleaded, wanting the feel of his tongue on your sweetness. but right now, his ego was debased. and you were to suffer for it.
âhe touched you like this?â his slender fingers glided up and down your dampness, the middle and ring fingers caressing the puffed folds. the pace was too leisurely. a stupendous restraint for a man who was known to be chaotic. your breath hitched when you felt the melding of the two togetherâswiping, spreading your secretion everywhere. truly vile, more than anything before.
âspread you like this?â another question eliciting nothing but a futile whimper. you opened your eyesâonly to be graced by his ones. the coldness of the arctic encapsulated within those mist blue ones. âno? mustâve been a shitty boyfriend then, right baby?â
he lowered himself to your heat, face inches away from the smear of your sweet juice. your pussy lips palpating for his kiss. a yearner for his tongue. âhe ate you out yeah?â not a question really. need not an answer. âfuck, i wonder how?â
âdid he start with some licks like thisâ, satoruâs tongue darted out. curled from itâs core, the pinkish tip made kitty-like licks at the center. a stride from the hole to the clit. following it was a soft kiss on your it.
âmhmâwonder what this pussy tasted like to himâ his licks fastened. your stomach coiled in pleasure. and so you tried to close your thighs, albeit, that was redundant because he held it in place. ânuh-uh, donât even dareâ a warning.
his blues desaturated in to grey, a beastly hunger taking over. he had flattened his tongue, pressing it on the whole of your pussy and taking in long tastes of the sweetness.
âhm, fuck, he ate you out. sureâ. sarcasm pertinent as he was lapping at your folds. each plush getting kissed and smothered by his tongue. a single drop on water ran from your cunt down to the meat of your ass, a stained trail. he was quite literally salivating on you. drooling on your pussy.
tongue swirled in your inner folds, a delirious pace having your back arching away from the bedsheets only to be halted by him, a firm push down on your pelvis. his hand slithered from your hips to your thighs, spreading you out even more, knees pressed on to the pruned sheets.
âplease. please. please. gojoâpleaseâ an incessant rambling had him lift up from your pussy. a string of spit connected and a smirk on his face. âyou cryinâ?â he didnât turn his eyes away. not at all, instead, continued his brute act. his tongue rubbing back and forth on your needy cunt.
with a few more strokes, he had gotten up. the snow in his eyes gleamed an avalanche. his chin wet with your squirt. he had no intention of wiping it away, no, because it was a showcase of your pleasure caused by him only.
cult leader!geto doing your routinely hole inspectionâŠ
heâs grown to like you over the years, noticing you in the sea of others, his most loyal and devoted follower. Heâs grown to like you so much, he feels the need to keep you closeâŠreally close. The others notice how he favors you in every way, and they also notice how you sneak away into his room at night. Why? They have zero clue. Some spread rumors that youâre getting a reward or allowance of some kind, some say that heâs secretly hypnotizing you. Truth be told, they werenât completely wrong.
Every night like clock work you end up over his lap, shorts and panties bunched at your ankles while his hand caresses your ass. Heâs gentle, and soft spoken, humming at the sight of you in front of him. Little words are spoken, but you enjoy it so much that you look forward to this moment when the day ends.
You lay across his lap, empty headed smile on your face, his hands spread your ass, kneading at the flesh. A brow raises, noticing you were wearing your plug, the one he specifically told you to wear this morning. He spreads your ass wider, your hips lifting instinctively, allowing him a better view. âHm, youâre wet,â he plainly states, spreading your pussy with his thumb. âPoor girl, you canât help yourself, can you?â He asks in a mocking tone, gathering some of your slick and rubbing it against your clit in slow circles.
Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, eyes fluttering shut as your back arches at his touch. âIâm sorry,â you meekly say. He knows you werenât really sorry because you get like this every time. No matter what, your pussy always ends up soaked, basically begging for attention from him. He doesnât get upset with you, he understands itâs natural, he understands a woman like you has needs and wants and thatâs why heâs here. Think of it as his way of saying thank you for your loyalty.
Two thick fingers slip right in, your gummy walls wrapping around them. His other hand follows the curve of your spine, sliding up to grip the back of your neck as he curls his fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them. âAre you wet because of the plug or because of me?â He honestly asks, no shame behind his words. His eyes focus on the way his fingers glisten in your juices, thick and creamy.
âA-ahâŠboth,â you whimper. âBut mostly you.â
He smirks to himself, the slick sounds of your pussy echoing off the walls of his bedroom, growing louder the more wet you get. âYouâre always so honestâŠsuch a good girl,â he breathes. âItâs why youâre my favorite.â He pumps his fingers faster, hitting up against your g-spot, but not too rough.
Your eyes roll back, jaw slack as whimpers escape your throat. You claw at his sheets, nails digging to the fabric, your toes curling from the immense pleasure. Itâs something thatâs been on your mind all day, and after hours and hours of pretending like you werenât a wet and horny mess, you get to finally let go and feel everything all at once.
It hits you so suddenly, your heart beat quickening, your mind starts to go blank, and all you can feel is his fingers working inside of you, stretching your pussy. âGonnaâŠcumâŠnnngh,â you choke out, breathing heavily. His grip on the back of your neck tightens, holding you in place as he finger fucks you, feeling your pussy clench tighter the closer you get. He watches the way your body shakes in his hold, your moans falling upon his ears when you finally cum. Your body relaxes in his lap as he removes his fingers, rubbing your mess all over your folds, brushing against your throbbing clit.
âDespite being a messy little thing today, your inspection is finished.â His hand swats against the fat of your ass. âNow, come clean your mess off of my fingers.â
a little something while I work on part 5 if insatiable <3
Your parents think Gojo is your gay bff â if only they knew heâs been folding you like laundry behind closed doors ;)
âHoney, are you two okay in there?â
âWeâre just fine, mom!â
âAnd Gojo?â
Smiling like the Cheshire Cat, he winks at you before he replies, âWeâre fabulous. Donât worry your pretty self about us!â
She giggles through the bathroom door. âOkay, but make sure you get her to shave her mustache too, sweetie. Sheâs not as keen on feminine hygiene as we are. Work her hard in there.â Ouch?
âOh, trust me girl, Iâm working her real hard.â
How she hasnât figured out by now that your âgayâ best friend isnât as gay as she thinks, you will never know. It seems so obvious â the constant sleepovers, the wearing his shirt, how touchy he was even to their face, and how heâd be sporting a boner when you entered his line of vision. But who are you to complain?
At least your parentsâ obliviousness means you two can have as much sex in your house as youâd like. For example, right now, when heâs balls deep inside your pussy in the bathroom, fucking you against the cold tiles with the excuse of a âDIY spa-dayâ as your cover.Â
Swallowing your moans, he kisses you until youâre dizzy and desperate for air. Every thrust, every grind of his pelvis to your clit, every throb of his cock inside your gummy walls, drives you wild. But you have to be quiet, have to not let the squelch! squelch! of your mixing juices bleed through the door, and give away your little secret. And it's oh so hard when he's fucking you oh so good.Â
Naturally, it was his idea â something about the sneaking around and deceiving everyone turned him on endlessly. The way he could make you cum through your panties under the dinner table with his foot as he chatted with your dad about taking him shopping, or fingering you under the blankets when watching Barbie for the hundredth time, and how he could actually come inside the dressing rooms in stores with your mother right outside, not knowing his tongue was exploring your pussy. And you wonât lie, it's pretty damn hot to be so obvious whilst everyone is none the wiser.Â
âSlay, boots down houston Iâm -ngh- d-deceased,â he says through gritted teeth, his tip gliding past your walls and prodding that spot inside that has you creaming harder on his cock. âThis pretty pussy never fails to -fuuuuck loosen up baby gonna make me cum early- to m-make my problems sashay away.â
Nails digging into his slippery back, you groan. âShut up, Satoru. Seriously.â
He chuckles against your neck, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin. âJust method acting, babe. Respect the craft.â
Your fatherâs voice sounds out through the pleasurable haze. âHow are my two queens doing in there? Can I say queens?â
Gojo snickers before he forces his own voice into an ear-splitting high pitched tone, still rutting into your sopping cunt. âYou can say whatever you want, daddykins â weâre almost done.â
The older man laughs before he pads away and you two resume your animalistic, uninhibited fucking. Your own wetness is dripping down your thighs. His mouth is wrapping around your nipple, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue. And they have no clue â itâs kinda embarrassing to have parents so airheaded but you love them dearly, just not enough to be honest it would seem.
Only after you both cum, shuddering against each other with long, quiet moans, do you finally ask, âDo gay men even say âdaddykinsâ?â
He grins.Â
âThis gay does.â
This might be offensive but my fr gay best friend gave me the go ahead so woke fiends don't come knocking at my door!
Ę ËáČđŒâ.Ë â â your toxic ass ex!sukuna
content: mdni, explicit sexual content (graphic smut, rough sex against a wall, fingering, nipple play, dick pics with identifiable tattoos/piercings, references to past sexual acts, dirty talk, choking mentions, creampie, unprotected sex), sharing of explicit images, slight stalking / harassment, unhealthy / obsessive ex behavior.
wc : â 2.3k word
creds to @/cakkezzz on x for the sukuna fanart âĄ
toxic ex sukuna who decided three months ago that âitâs overâ was just a suggestion.
you blocked him on everything the night you left. instagram, snap, phone number, even his stupid playstation account so he couldnât see when you were online. radio silence. peace. finally.
until month two when your venmo pings at 3:17 a.m.
sukuna ryomen requested $1
note: thinking of you tax. pay up or i start charging interest in nudes
you stare at the screen. laugh once. decline it. go back to sleep.
next night same time. another $1 request.
note: declined the last one. thatâs emotional damages. $2 next time.
you send $1 request back with note: go die
he sends $3 back note: iâll take that as foreplay
two days later youâre leaving your psychology lecture and there he is. six-foot-something of walking red flags leaning against the brick wall outside the humanities building like heâs waiting for his dealer. black hoodie up. tattoos peeking out. that stupid smirk.
âwrong campus, ryomen,â you say, not breaking stride.
he pushes off the wall and falls in beside you like itâs choreographed. ânah. they let felons audit now. personal enrichment.â
âyouâre literally a finance major.â
âdropped out. pursuing my mba in getting you back.â
you snort. âyou canât even spell mba.â
âdonât need to. just need to spell your name while iâm inside you again.â
you stop walking. âleave.â
âmake me.â you stare. he stares back. eyes lazy and predatory and way too amused. âmissed that death glare,â he mutters. âgets me hard.â
you turn and speed walk away. he doesnât follow. but your phone buzzes thirty minutes later.
unknown number. picture.
his dick. hard. heavy. base wrapped in those thick black tattoos you used to trace with your tongue. silver piercing catching the bathroom light. same cracked mirror in the background heâs refused to replace for two years.
âhe misses your throatâ
you delete. block. scream into your pillow.
next unknown number two hours later. same dick. different angle. hand wrapped around it, thumb tattoo visible.
âhe says hi. heâs lonely. feed himâ
you block again.
the next week he sends flowers to your dorm lobby. not roses. white and pink lilies and something thorny that looks like it could draw blood. card in his sharp handwriting: âsaw these and thought of how your pussy gets when youâre mad at me. enjoy -sâ
your roommate coos. âthatâs actually kind of romantic.â you drop them straight in the compactor.
next morning outside your 9 a.m. psych lecture heâs holding your exact coffee order. iced caramel frappuccino. whipped cream on top instead of cold foam even though you only started asking for that after you broke up.
âpeace treaty,â he says.
âiâm calling public safety.â
âthey know my name now. weâre on a first-name basis. derek says hi.â
you snatch the coffee because itâs cold and youâre tired. itâs perfect. fuck him.
âyou gonna keep doing this forever?â you ask.
âuntil you take me back or campus bans me. iâm fine with either. bans make me look dangerous. girls love that.â
you walk away sipping his peace offering and hating how good it tastes.
the venmo requests evolve.
$1 â compensation for walking past your dorm and getting a boner from memory
$1 â ur new perfume in the library today. assault with a deadly scent
$1 â i saw a girl with your hair color. ptsd. pay for my therapy.
$1 â breathing the same oxygen as u on campus. carbon tax
you start sending $1 requests back.
$1 â go touch grass
$1 â restraining order down payment
$1 â please seek jesus
he replies instantly every time.
$1 â only if u sit on my face while i pray
itâs disgusting. itâs relentless. itâs weirdly funny in the way a car crash is funny if no one dies.
one friday youâre at a house party off-campus. tipsy. dancing in the basement. bass shaking your ribs. phone buzzes.
unknown: look left baby
you look. heâs across the room. black tee stretched over his chest. solo cup in one hand. staring at you like youâre prey and heâs already chewed you up once.
he raises the cup. smirks.
you flip him off with both hands. his grin widens. he starts walking. crowd splits for him like heâs parting the red sea with felony energy. he gets right up in your space. cologne and smoke and that stupid aftershave you used to steal from his bathroom. leans down. mouth at your ear over the music.
âstill mad?â
âyes.â
âgood. mad pussy hits different.â
you shove his chest. solid wall. he catches your wrists. holds them against him.
âlet go.â
âsay youâll go on one date with me. then iâll leave.â
âno.â
âtwo dates.â
âno.â
âone date and i delete all the dick pics i have saved of you choking on me.â
you pause. he clocks it.
âfine,â you mutter. âone date. then you fuck off forever.â
his eyes flash. actual victory lights.
âdeal.â
the date is chaos.
he picks you up at 1:47 a.m. ramen spot thatâs open till 4. you argue over who gets the last pork slice. he steals it. you kick his shin under the table. he laughs so loud the cook glares. he walks you back to your dorm after. no kiss. no grab. just stands there looking at you like youâre the only thing thatâs ever made sense to him.
ânight princess.â
âdonât call me that.â
âalready did womp womp.â
his dumbass leaves.
next morning venmo.
sukuna ryomen sent you $1000
note: bail money. in case u kill me on date two
you laugh so hard your roommate asks if youâre okay.
you send $1 back.
note: therapy fund. get some
he replies $1
note: couples counseling. u come watch me get roasted.
youâre so screwed ho.
next week heâs outside your class. again. this time holding a bag from the campus bakery. your favorite croissant. chocolate.
âbribery,â he says.
âstalking.â
âsame difference.â
you take the bag. bite into it. flaky. perfect. fuck.
âyou know this is down bad behavior right?â you ask around a mouthful.
âyeah. and youâre still talking to me. so whoâs winning?â
you donât answer.
he keeps showing up. keeps sending $1 requests with notes that get progressively more deranged.
$1 â ur ass looked good in those jeans today. pay the blue ball fee.
$1 â jerking off to the memory of you calling me an asshole. royalties
you reply to one.
$1 â please get hit by a bus
he sends $500 back
note: kinky. choke me next time
one night youâre drunk and lonely and you unblock his main number. just to see. he texts immediately. unemployed cunt.
âmissed me?â
ânoâ
âliar. send a pic of ur tits or i start a rumor ur pregnant with my babyâ
âdieâ
âsend anyway. iâll die happyâ
you donât send. but you donât re-block either.
the next day heâs waiting outside your dorm with a huge ass case of your favorite monster flavors from costco.
âpeace offering 2.0,â he says.
âyouâre exhausting.â
âand youâre wet just thinking about me.â
you slam the door in his face. pop open a can anyway. cry a little. hate him. hate yourself more.
two weeks later youâre studying in the library. quiet floor. headphones in. someone sits across from you.
you look up. sukuna. hoodie up. pretending to read a textbook upside down.
you kick his shin under the table.
he grins. flips the book right side up.
writes on a post-it. slides it over.
âone more date. then iâll leave you alone for realâ
you write back:ânoâ
he writes: âplease. iâm losing my mindâ
you stare at the words. he looks⊠serious. for once.
you write: âone more. then you disappearâ
he nods once. exhales like heâs been holding his breath for months.
the second date never happens.
youâre fresh from the shower, skin still warm and glistening, every crevice of your body shaved, hair damp and clinging to your neck. the silk pajama setâshorts and tiny camisole in pale lavenderâclings just enough to feel luxurious against your body. everything shower magic: vanilla body wash, coconut lotion, the works. you feel soft, clean, untouchable.
then three sharp knocks rattle your dorm door.
you freeze. itâs past midnight. no one knocks like that exceptâ
you crack the door an inch. sukunaâs there, hoodie up, eyes dark and hungry the second they land on you. he doesnât ask. just pushes the door wider with his shoulder and steps inside like he still owns the place.
âryomenââ
he kicks the door shut behind him. locks it. crowds you back against the nearest wall before you can even finish saying his name. his mouth crashes into yours, rough and desperate, tasting faintly of mint and whatever cheap energy drink he downed on the drive over. one big hand slides up under the silk cami, palm rough against your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast until he finds the cool metal barbell piercing.
he groans into your mouth when his fingers close around it. tugs lightly. your back arches off the wall on instinct.
âfuck,â he mutters against your lips, âstill got these pretty little things in. knew you wouldnât take âem out.â
his other hand hooks under your thigh, hikes your leg around his waist so he can grind against you. heâs already hard through his sweats, thick and insistent, pressing right where youâre starting to ache. the silk shorts do nothing to hide how wet youâre getting.
he breaks the kiss just long enough to yank the cami up over your head, letting it dangle from one arm. your nipples pebble in the cool airâpink, puffy, the silver bars glinting under the desk lamp. sukuna stares like a man starved. then he dips his head and sucks one into his mouth, tongue flicking the piercing hard enough to make you gasp.
his teeth graze. not gentle. just enough sting to make your hips jerk against him.
âmissed these tits,â he growls, switching to the other one, sucking harder while his hand slips down the front of your shorts. no panties. of course. his fingers find you soaked, slide through your folds, circle your clit onceâtwiceâthen push two thick fingers inside without warning.
you moan, loud and broken. he curls them immediately, hitting that spot that makes your knees buckle. he holds you up with the thigh still hooked around him, fucking you open on his hand while his mouth works your pierced nipple like heâs trying to brand it.
âstill so fucking tight,â he rasps, thumb pressing your clit in messy circles. âbeen thinking about this pussy every damn day. you gonna let me back in, princess? gonna let me ruin you again?â
you canât answer. not with words. just a whimper as he adds a third finger, stretching you, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet dorm room. your nails dig into his shoulders through the hoodie.
he pulls his fingers out suddenly. you whine at the loss. he shoves his sweats down just enoughâcock springing free, heavy, flushed, that familiar piercing at the tip catching the light. he doesnât bother with condoms. never did with you.
he lines up, notches the head against your entrance, and thrusts in one brutal stroke.
you cry outâhalf pain, half pleasureâwalls fluttering around him as he bottoms out. he doesnât give you time to adjust. just starts fucking you against the wall, hard and deep, every snap of his hips making your tits bounce, the piercings glinting with each thrust.
âlook at you,â he pants, forehead pressed to yours, eyes wild. âfresh outta the shower and already dripping for me. pretty little thing.â
his hand finds your throatânot squeezing, just holding. possessive. the other grips your ass, spreading you wider so he can go deeper. the piercing drags along your walls with every pull-out, every slam back in.
youâre close already. embarrassingly fast. the everything shower glow, the silk, the way heâs looking at you like youâre his entire fucking universeâitâs too much.
âgonna come,â you gasp.
âyeah you are,â he snarls. âcome on my cock like a good girl. milk me. been saving it all for you.â
he angles his hips just rightâhits that spot again and againâthumb finding your clit, rubbing fast and mean.
you shatter. back bowing, thighs shaking, a choked moan ripping out of you as you clench around him. he fucks you through it, relentless, chasing his own.
âfuckâthere it is,â he groans, burying himself deep one last time. he comes hard, pulsing inside you, hot and thick, hips stuttering as he fills you up.
for a long moment neither of you move. just heavy breathing, sweat-slick skin, his cock still twitching inside you.
he finally pulls out slow. watches his cum drip down your thigh with a satisfied smirk.
then he kisses you againâlazy, filthy, claiming.
âtold you,â he murmurs against your swollen lips. âone more date and iâd disappear, right?â
content: the notorious fuckboy suddenly stopped sleeping around and nobody knows why. its totally not because heâs been secretly running around with someone thatâs almost a decade older and is embarrassed to be seen with him in public || MDNI, fem!reader, age gap (gojoâs 20-21 readers late 20s), smut, porn w/ plot, fuck buddies, secret relationship(?), gojo plays rugby đ«Š, readers lw so embarrassed to be seen with him LMAO, date crashing, he also calls her drunk to tell her he misses her, he's an unhinged little shit
notes: hiiii im so sorry to the ones that asked to be tagged, ive been swamped with schoolwork and im exhausted đ 11.9k words today, enjoy the read đââïžâ€ïž
Satoru has lived his life quite simply these past few monthsâ just school, training, and games.Â
Everyoneâs gotten on his case about itâ mainly just questioning him, but there are moments like yesterday, when he got accused of going through a crisis of some sort over his sexuality. Or last month, when the entire frathouse got together in the living room and tried to have some intervention, thinking he had depression or some other shit.Â
He doesn't. Heâs also not very worried about his sexuality.Â
Itâs crazy because he really hasnât changed that much. He just hasnât brought anyone over. Or gone out on dates. Or made out with anyone at parties. Anything related to girls, he hasnât taken much part in.Â
But thatâs it! Thatâs all!
He still goes to parties, still has good grades, still goes to practice, and still wins games. Heâs just as presentâ heâs just not fucking anybody, and now everyone thinks heâs dying because of it.Â
Assholes.Â
Heâs fucked half the school, for all they knew, he couldâve just been giving his dick a break! He wasnâtâ but he could be, and that wouldnât be anybody else's business but his own. Heâs a grown man, despite many individuals begging to differ.
Whatever, fuck them.
Funny thing about it all is nobody seems to have noticed that heâs out of the house at certain hours throughout the week. Consistently. So really, itâs on them for not trying hard enough to find answers to their invasive little questions.Â
Hm. Actually, no. On the off chance that they do ask what heâs up to on a night like tonight, heâll just lie, say heâs at the gym or something. Heâs not exactly allowed to tell, which is fine; heâs more than willing to keep a little secret.Â
That little secret was tucked away in a nice apartment that had a view of the entire city. A tranquil little place when heâs not around, heâs pretty sureâ just not when heâs around.
The bedâs steadily rocking underneath the uneven weight Satoru creates. Relentless smackingâ skin to skin, hips to ass, the dirty little squelch that comes with it.Â
Thereâs a view, but itâs not the city.Â
âArch that back some moreâ yeaahhh, just like that.â
He pounds into you, balls hitting heavy against your clit as he pulls you back to meet each thrust. Moans spill from your lips, taking every single inch he drills into you. The stretch is insane as he works his heavy cock in and out of you like itâs nothing.Â
If thereâs one thing about him, itâs that he can fuck. He can go on for hours, put you in any position, have you begging and crying, dwindle you down to nothing but a babbling mess from how many orgasms he can work out of you.Â
He wears you out.Â
Yet still, at the end of every nightâ
âKayâ. Weâre done here, you can leave now.âÂ
You are so fucking mean.
The first time Satoru heard those words come out of your mouth, he was distraught. How dare you throw him out after the backshots he had given you?! He made you cum so hard you cried! Then you just throw him out of your apartment like some useless whoreâ like he was nothing but a fucking slut! He had more to offer than just his dick, heâll have you know.Â
Now heâs a little less emotional and moreâŠÂ
âYou sure? I could stay longer and help you with chores⊠or something.â
You look around your room, which is spotless aside from his t-shirt and jeans scattered on the floor. âSure. Why donât you start by picking up your clothes, putting them on, and then getting out?â
âOh, come on. Seriously?â he throws his head back and groans rather childishly. âThatâs a little rude, no?âÂ
âSo was the way you were talking to your little girlfriend on the phone earlier,â you hop off the bed and throw on a big t-shirt that said Modelo on it.Â
Satoru gets one final look at your ass as you do so and finds himself getting oddly jealous, wondering if the shirt was actually yours or if it belonged to an ex. He ends up telling himself itâs yours, ignoring that youâve told him how much you hated beer in the past. Delusional? Perhaps, but heâd rather not hurt his own feelings right now.
âCarmenâs not my girlfriend,â he huffs out a laugh as he tries to explain, âI donât even know why she called me. We havenât fucked in months.âÂ
He also tried to tell you that he hasnât slept with anyone since he started sleeping with you, but you didnât seem to care much about either. The entire time, you were just throwing his clothes at him while he absentmindedly got dressed. He continues to yap away once heâs up and fully dressed, so you grab him by the wrist and start walking towards the door.Â
âAnd you wouldnât believe all the shit the guys have given me for turning girls down. One of them started calling me Celibate Satoru, can you believe that?â
âI sure can.â You open the door, walk around him, and start pushing him out.Â
âThey donât even knowâ assholes, theyâd take it all back so fast if they saw you,â he huffs out a laugh, trying to cope with the fact that heâs not allowed to tell anybody about you two.Â
You laugh with him. âYou better hope they donât, âcause if they doââ
âYouâll bite my dick offâ yeah, yeah. I know.â You never said youâd bite his dick off. Satoru turns around when heâs fully out of the door to reveal the dopey grin on his face. âSo, same time next week?â
âYup! Bye Gojo.â
He scoffs. âI thought I told you to call me Saââ
He didnât get to finish that sentence. You shut the door in his face.Â
Gojo was a nice guy⊠at least to you, he was. Youâre sure a lot of others would say the complete opposite, judging by the way he snapped at the girl earlier for calling him and telling her to lose his number. You felt sorry for her and also felt thankful that you didnât have to deal with a guy like him when you were 21.Â
You tried not to reflect too much, itâd just end with you being disappointed in yourself for even letting him into your apartment in the first place. Itâs all for fun, but still, you should know better.Â
Satoruâs a piece of work. Comes from a family swimming in money and has never been told no in his life. Heâs impulsive. Very hedonistic, very immatureâ some people grow out of it, but you have a feeling heâll never change since heâs never had to work hard for anything in his life.Â
He is the last person youâd ever want to date, and for someone who usually dated older menâ preferably men like his rich fatherâ fucking a frat boy was just embarrassing on your part.
Itâs too bad heâs genuinely one of the best fucks of your lifeâ add in the dick piercing, the stamina that came with being a rugby player, and the fact that he spends every moment with you wanting to please you, and he was hard to get rid of.Â
You met Satoru at the gym. Youâd think heâd go to the one at his university, but no, he just had to get a membership at the luxury gym thatâs on the other side of town. The only reason why you chose to get a membership there, rather than the more affordable gym down the street, was so that you could avoid annoying ass kids.Â
Spoiler: It didnât work.Â
He didnât approach you right away. It started with a couple of stares here and there, all of which you pretended not to see since his attention was the last thing you wanted. You can admit that if he were a little older, you wouldâve indulged, but it was clear he was a college student, given how heâs worn t-shirts and hoodies with his universityâs name on them. Most professional settings wouldnât allow piercings eitherâ heâs covered in them. One on his nose, one on his eyebrow, multiple on his ears, and a tongue ring. Not to mention the one he surprised you with when he first came over.
Of course, pretending not to notice an attention whore like Satoru Gojo didnât work, and you soon found out just how annoyingly persistent he can be.
He started going to the gym at the same time as you. It felt like the machines he used just got closer and closer to you with each visit, up until he boldly used the treadmill right next to you one dayâ you werenât having that, by the way, and got off less than a minute later. You could be talking to a trainer or one of the staff members, and heâd shimmy his way into the conversation just to get you to look at him and say something, but his attempts were met with you excusing yourself.Â
It got to a point where he didnât even care about what was said, he just wanted your attention, good or bad. When he finally did get it, it was neither. You were tired of him before he even opened his mouth.Â
Imagine this: the annoying little shit coincidentally goes into the sauna at the same time as you, even though you couldâve sworn you saw him walking out the door with his duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. How he managed to strip down into nothing but his slutty little rugby shorts in so little time? You have no clue. His knee was all scraped up though, so it was safe to assume that he fell during the process.Â
You gave him a curt smile and closed your eyes.
He still opened his mouth.
âGreat sauna, isnât it?â
Did he just deepen his voice? Christ.
The awkward and pathetic attempt at small talk never made you want to murder yourself more in that moment. You tried not to sound as annoyed as you were when you let out a sigh.Â
âIt is,â you murmured back, closing your eyes again in hopes that would be the end of it.Â
It wasnât.Â
âI love coming hereâ nice little escape from everything,â he blissfully said.
You couldnât imagine what the hell that brat needed to escape from. If only you could say the same, youâve spent more time dodging him than you have working out the past three weeks.Â
âName's Satoru, by the way,â he flashed you a smile.Â
Youâre not a heartless wretch, so you threw him a bone and told him your name, too. Which was a mistake, the one thing youâve learned is to never feel sorry for Satoru, give him an inch and heâll shamelessly take a mile. Minutes later, youâre internally groaning. You hated how smooth he was when asking if you wanted to grab drinks later that night. All the charm and charisma that oozed out of him would put any narcissist to shame.Â
âDid you seriously follow me into the sauna just to ask me out?â
He had to pause because thatâs not what you were supposed to say, but he was too emotionally invested at that point to give up.Â
âMaybe,â he chirps, averting his gaze for a moment. âI swear I wasnât trying to be weird, though.â
You smile as your eyes scan him from top to bottom, more so out of judgment than interest. âStripping down into nothing but the male version of booty shorts isnât weird?â
âUghâ ok, yeah, fineâ maybe it is a little weird,â he sighs, throwing a towel over his shoulders as an attempt to cover up. âLet's just.. Forget about that. Yeah?â You continue to just stare at him, and he clears his throat. âIâd still love to take you out sometime and get to know you a little better. Whatcha think? My treat.â
Age doesnât matter, youâll fold too once you see what heâs hiding under his âbooty shortsâ. Everyone does.Â
You cross your arms and lean back on the wooden bench. âIâm sorryâ how old are you again?â
âIâm graduating this year,â he proudly says, making your face drop in disbeliefâ heâs well aware that heâs too young for you, and heâs still trying?
âRight.â The judgment in your tone was loud and clear, continuing to look at him as if he were a harmless spiderâ thereâs no fear or concern, just peeved at how it managed to find its way into your vicinity. âSo youâre 21âŠâ You tried pulling more information out of him, âsince thatâs the age you need to be to order a drink.âÂ
âSoon,â he continues to tiptoe around the truth. âEveryone knows me, though. Nobody's gonna check my I.D.âÂ
Besides, he has a fake. Heâs had one since he was 16.Â
âOh wow.âÂ
You still didnât sound very impressed, not that it stopped him. He somehow was able to go home with your number in his phone that day, mainly because he was starting to annoy you, and giving him your number was the easiest way to get him to stopâ harmless spider, remember? He was probably more of a gnat at that point, though, but harmless nonetheless.Â
From that point going forward, you ignored him at the gym and his text messages. You could go on your phone and scroll for a minute before seeing a text sent from your end. Now that you think about it, you only texted him back once.Â
Unknown Number:Â i feel like im being edged rn đ whatâs a man gotta do to get a text back??
You: typingâŠ
You:Â
You: typingâŠ
You:Â turn 21
Unknown Number:Â bet
You read that response and immediately regretted it.Â
He came back a month later, the day after his birthday, and you unfortunately gave in.Â
And by giving in, you met him halfway and asked if he wanted to come over. He was hot, but there was no way in hell you wanted to be seen in public with him. Being a man as easy as Satoru, he said yes and spent the entire night putting you in every single position heâs ever imagined having you in. You swear he hit every room on purposeâ just bending you over every surface and folding you up in every position.Â
Youâve never had someone throw you around that much before. He fucked you like it was some god-given right. You were so far gone that you wouldâve done anything he told you to; youâre just glad his only goal that night was to impress you.Â
And he did, hence why you are still letting him come over a couple of times a week. Maybe more, maybe less.Â
Heâs tried to get you to come over to his place before, to which you refused for obvious reasons, and berated him enough to make him never ask you a question as insulting as that ever again.Â
Heâs also tried to coordinate your gym visits in the past.Â
It was a month into whatever little arrangement you hadâ you say that because youâve never made an agreement, aside from telling him to never talk to you, talk about you, or approach you in public.Â
It would come as a surprise to no one if he spent the whole day there just waiting for you to show up.Â
He didnât even give you a chance to go into the locker and put your things away before attempting to walk up to you. You had just walked past the front deskâ head down, phone upâ and felt like there was something off, and what do you know? He was walking in a straight line towards you as if you hadnât banned him from speaking to you in public.Â
Luckily, the women's locker room was directly to your left, so you turned and walked there as fast as your legs could take you. You were pissed, slamming your duffel bag down onto one of the benches to spend a minute or two pacing back and forth. There was no way in hell you were going home, so you pulled up with messages with him and sent him a text.
You:Â Do not fucking embarrass me.
You:Â Donât even come near me. Â
S. Gojo:Â fine .
It wasnât another 20 minutes until you finally stepped out of the locker room, mostly ready to spend the next 30 minutes working out. Usually, itâs 45 minutes to an hour, but you gave yourself some grace, even though you really shouldâve been getting the most out of your membership with how pricey it was.
The first 20 minutes were fineâ peaceful. You ended up letting your guard down as you fell under the assumption that Satoru left, given how he was nowhere to be found. Then, 2 minutes into using the stairmaster, someone got on the one right next to you, despite the entire row being empty.Â
He was met with a scowl. The only response he had for it was throwing his palms out and grimacing right back at you, as if to say, Iâm not doing anything wrong.
Minutes later, heâs reaching over and grabbing your water bottle to take a sip from. Mind you, he already had one with him. It had more water in it than yours.Â
That was the moment you knew Satoru really wasnât shit.Â
He casually gave it back with a smile, trying to act all cute and be funny, so you sent your water bottle flying at his big head.Â
âOw!â he frowns, rubbing the side of his head, having absolutely no right to look as shocked as he did. âThat hurt!â
âSuck it up,â you snapped at him in a hushed tone. âYouâre lucky I didnât lodge it down your throat and drown you.â
âWhy would you do either?!â he threw his arms out.
âI donât knowâ why would you reach over and drink from my water bottle when you have your own?!â
âBecause I wanted water that had some of your backwash in it??â he says, as if it shouldâve been obvious.Â
To this day, you still donât know if he was trying to throw you off or if he was being serious.
âIf I hear one more word come out of your mouth while Iâm here, even if youâre 10 feet away and talking to someone else, Iâm fucking blocking you.â
â. . .â You could see the panic in his eyes as his face dropped. âOkayâ 10 feet away is fucking crazyââ
âStop. Talking.â
He opens his mouth, quickly decides heâd rather not find out if you were bluffing or not, and closes it.
You hated being strict with peopleâ you had no other choice but to be strict with Satoru. You could draw a line, explicitly tell him not to cross it and why, and heâd walk right up to it and tap his toe on the other side, just to see if youâd say anything.
With the way you talk about him and talk to him, itâd be easy to assume that you hated himâ you complain about the shit he does, you yell at him often, you look at him at times and start to wonder if he was just a sign sent by god to finally get therapy. But you donât dislike him, let alone hate him. Â
On the occasion that you donât kick him out right after you two fuck, heâs really not that bad to be around. If circumstances were different, you wouldnât mind being friends with him. Heâs easy to talk to, easy to get along with when heâs not actively and purposely fucking around and finding out. You honestly enjoy talking to him here and there.Â
Truly.
Except for when heâs talking about anything frat-related. More often than not, itâs dumb and genuinely a waste of your time to listen to. Not to mention the fact that you donât need any more reminders of who youâve been welcoming into your home.Â
You were pushing thirty for Christ's sake. It'd be one thing if he were just a one-night stand, but heâs not. He raids your pantry when youâre not looking and, on multiple occasions, has purposely left his boxers behind as some sort of parting gift.
Itâs gotten easier with timeâ the embarrassment that washes over you when he says something stupid, that is. Like whatever went down at some party he threw or some joke one of his âbrothersâ told him. Itâs still a waste of your time, but youâve grown to just let him talk about it rather than shut him down to avoid that pang of guilt you sometimes get when youâre around him.Â
Thereâs the disappointment and the embarrassment, and lately, thereâs the odd form of pity you have for him. Youâve always known you were going to have to let Gojo down one day and cut things off completely, youâre not quite sure how heâd take it, though.Â
There was some hope that heâd get bored with you and move on to someone new, but thatâs slowly diminishing. Heâs volunteered to get tested for STDs weekly and sends you the results. He hasnât slept with anyone else, either, which is shocking. Youâve gotten a glimpse of his phone and his messages, all of which were unopened texts from the girls heâs probably led on in the pastâ ignoring them all for a woman who does the same to him more than half the time.
Sometimes you wonder if he notices that, too. He has to. You say heâs stupid all the time, but heâs smarter than he lets on.Â
â
S. Gojo:Â howâs my pretty girl doing?? ((:
You:Â what do u want
S. Gojo:Â đdamn not even a question mark?? I didnât even ask u for anything đ
You:Â i can tell when u want something. now what is it
S. Gojo:Â can i come over after practice today? pretty please
S. Gojo:Â it ends at 3 today
You:Â im not even home
S. Gojo:Â ik i have a key
You:Â you took my spare key?
You:Â give it back
S. Gojo:Â today? (:
You:Â im not even home by then. I donât want u there, youâre gonna make a mess
S. Gojo:Â wtf? I never make a mess
You:Â what do you even wanna come over for
S. Gojo:Â i donât wanna be home later
You:Â why
S. Gojo:Â thereâs a few sorority girls coming over and they donât like me
You:Â why
S. Gojo:Â itâs just bc of some bet during freshman years
S. Gojo:Â theyâre not over it
You:Â pig
S. Gojo:Â i didnât even tell you what it was!
You:Â please donât
You:Â but ya, no. go to the library or something
S. Gojo:Â PLEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEE
S. Gojo:Â FUCK iâll have takeout ready for you when you get off work ffs
S. Gojo:Â have some compassion these bitches are gonna try to CHOP my DICK off PLEASE
You:Â maybe you never deserved one to begin with
S. Gojo:Â BRO???
You:Â kiddinggg
You:Â have some pad thai ready for me. I also expect the place to be vacuumedÂ
S. Gojo:Â i got u
S. Gojo:Â i can do your laundry too if you want
You:Â stop trying to sniff my panties you fucking freak
S. Gojo:Â ):
Youâre home at 5:15 on the dot, and youâre met with the lovely smell of all-purpose cleaner despite only telling Satoru to vacuum. So naturally, youâre in a good mood when you walk into the living room and hang your purse up in the hallway.Â
Satoruâs on the couch, turning to look at you and doing that stupid nod he does when he doesnât feel like verbally greeting someone.Â
You slip out of your heels and walk up. âDid you clean the kitchen?â
âA little,â he hums, taking the opportunity to pretty much eye fuck you since you donât pay much attention to him as you look into the kitchen.Â
âWhat do you want?â you ask suspiciously, turning to look at him lounging back on your couch, half-naked. Heâs got nothing but a pair of socks and rugby shorts on, and you canât help but take a look at his thighs. You donât ask why his titties are out on display, though, knowing heâd make a comment about how hard he worked cleaning the place.Â
âNothinâ,â he shrugs, feigning innocence. The slight twitch of his lip right after gives him away, not that you give it much attention. âHow was work?â
âLong,â you yawn. âSlow, tooâ felt like I was on my phone the entire time.â
He tilts his head, getting ready to fuck with you despite it not even being 5 minutes since you walked through the door. âAre you complaining about doing nothing at work today?â
âUh, yeah,â you mimic his tone. âI hate looking at the clock all day.â
He huffs out a laugh. âIâm gonna remember this the next time you complain about work being too busy.â
You smile and hum. âDo that, and Iâm shoving my socks down your throat.â
âKinky.â You start to walk away, and Satoru takes the opportunity to reach over the couch, biting his lip as he strikes a palm over your ass. âWhat else are you tryna do to me?âÂ
âChoke you,â you boredly say as you walk into your room, but end up smiling when you hear him laugh. You come out a couple of minutes later in a pair of shorts and a tank top. âWhereâs the food?â
âThe fridge,â he responds, seemingly distracted.Â
Only for him to grab your wrist right before you walk past behind him.Â
You whip your head around and click your tongue. âWhat?â you whine, eyes narrowing as you shoot him an irritated look.Â
âHow hungry are you right now?â he asks, tongue in cheek as he keeps a firm grip on your wrists.Â
âHungry enough.â
âStarving?â Thereâs an obnoxious glint in his eyes as he asks.Â
You scoff. âDoes it fucking matter?âÂ
âMmmmmm, a little.â He blatantly checks you out as he hums, not struggling to hold on to your wrist at all. He leans over the couch to get a better look at your shorts, his other hand reaching forward to snap your shorts against your skin. âI like these.â
âLet me guess, youâd like them better on the floor.âÂ
âSomething like thatâ come here,â He stifles a laugh, pulling you closer until you're up against the couch. He snakes an arm around your waist to keep you from leaving, pressing kisses all over your chest. âBeen waiting for you foreverâ give me a minute or two.âÂ
âYou expect me to believe itâll just be a minute or two?â You smile, trying to keep your breath from hitching as he gets closer to your neck.Â
âMhm. Itâs a lie, though.â He places one last kiss against your collarbone, then pulls a hum out of you as he licks a slow, fat stripe up your neck. He tops it off with a couple of kisses along your jaw before nipping at your ear. âHow about I work up that appetite a little, hm?â
Your lids grow heavy, each word growing breathier than the last with each kiss and touch. âMy stomachâs gonna start hurting.âÂ
âItâs fine,â he murmurs, running his big hand down your back to your ass, giving it a squeeze before his palm lands on it. âYou wonât be thinking about it.âÂ
He steps over the couch and starts nudging you towards your room, dick print against the fabric of his shorts on full display.Â
âNo?â
âNope,â the grin on his face grows, âIâll keep you distracted.â
And distracted you were.Â
Whining as you trembled and clenched around his cock while he worked it into you. Youâre at the edge of the bedâ bent over for him, back in the craziest arch as he gives you the deepest strokes. The round metal studs under his tip add the right amount of pressure as it drags over your gummy spot. Â
He leans back, suppressing a laugh at the sight of your fucked out face and the creamy ring already starting to grow around his base. Heâs barely done anything, but he wouldnât be surprised if he saw drool stains right where your face is pressed up against. Itâs always like this, your attitude just magically disappearing the moment he gets near your pussy. Doesnât matter if itâs his dick, his fingers, his tongueâ theyâve all made the miracle of getting you to say please happen.Â
âShit,â he curses under his breath, just mesmerized at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you. His attention only gets pulled away once he hears a soft, drawn-out moan leave your lips, his hands unconsciously moving up to your hips for him to knead. âYou alright?â
âMhmâ go faster.â The demand sounds so sweet falling from your lips, how could he say no?
He rests a knee against the bed and leans over your body. Chest pressed up against your back, caging you in. You rest your head on his forearm, unknowingly letting him get a full view of the tears heâs about to give you. He picks up the pace, angling himself just right with each thrust, watching your eyebrows slightly pinch as your breathing picks up.Â
âCanât believe you wanted to wait for this,â he starts to poke fun at you, and it somehow goes straight to your core. âThe hell were you thinkinâ, huh?â
âI donât know,â you murmur.Â
âWere you thinking at all?â
âShut up.â You get whinier with the change of pace. âCan you justâ mmh yeah.â
âYeah?â He grins as you lose your train of thought, rolling his hips nice and slow, working his tip right over that spot that has you curling your toes. âLike that?â
âMhm,â you hum, fingers starting to dig into his bicep as the praises slowly fall from your mouth. âFeels so good.â
âI knowwâ youâre droolinâ on my arm already,â he stifles a laugh as he mocks you, brushing some hair out of your face to grab your chin, turning your head toward him.Â
He leans down to kiss you, and itâs nothing short of messy. It's all tongue and wet smacks once he held you down and crashed his lips into yours, just rough and hungry. Greed is what comes to mind once you pull awayâ lips all swollen and covered in spit, out of breath, heat creeping up your neck.Â
Itâs just selfishâ who grabs people like that?
The hand on your jaw wraps around your neck, and you soon find yourself taking in a sharp breath as Satoru crashes his lips into yours again. His hips continue to rock into you, grinding every inch of himself up against your gummy walls, trying to knock the air out of you as he tries to take it for himself.Â
He bites your bottom lip, and youâre giggling as he slowly pulls back, dying out at your throat once he gets back to work. His shallow thrusts grow deep, making your eyes start to glaze over as the fat head of his cock hits and rubs against a spot youâre sure only he can reach.Â
âReady?â he murmurs in your ear.Â
âWhat are youââÂ
He bites your bottom lip, then starts fucking you like you owed him your soul or something. He drills every single inch of his cock into you, the sharp sounds of his hips striking against your ass cutting through the air, nearly bringing you to tears from how overwhelming it all is.
âF-Fuck!â you choke out a whine, shoving your face down on the bed, unable to keep up with how fast heâs going. Your cunt stretches around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing around his length as he pounds you into the bed. Low groans slip through his lips as he sees a mess of slick and cream starting to coat his shaft.
He goes faster. The obscene wet slaps of him pounding your pussy and his heavy balls slapping against your clit grow louder, messier. Youâre clawing at your sheets and holding back choked moans each time he slams his tip against your cervix. Your legs start to tremble, struggling to keep them open when each thrust pushes you forward with all the force behind them.Â
You start to feel something in your core begin to wrap up and coil, and you are not ready for it. You find yourself crawling forward, trying to close your thighs, all without even realizing it. Satoru lets out a laugh that fades into a low groan as your walls squeeze and tremble around him.Â
He teases you as he drags you back by your hips, his ragged voice dripping in amusement.
âYou running from me, baby? Whereâs this pussy goinâ, huh?â He nudges your thighs back apart with his knee, pulling you back on his cock and holding you in place, hips flush against your ass as he lazily grinds into you.Â
âYeah, c'mereâ mânot done with you yet.â he rasps, picking up the pace back up again until a messy wet squelch can be heard between you as he pounds you out. He presses your back further down into an arch, fucking into you at a deeper angle. âMmmmâ there we goâ just stay right there for me.âÂ
âSaâ fuckâ t-toru!â Your breath shatters as you gasp, pressure starting to build all over again.Â
You donât see the way he smirks when you cry his name like that.
âI knowâ Mâsorry, baby.â
Heâs not. A hand slides up your spine to get a fistful of your hair, pulling you up against his chest in one swift go. His pace doesnât falter as a strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him while his lips graze the shell of your ear.Â
âLook how good Iâm fuckinâ you, thoughâ looks like youâre about to start crying.â He smiles, feeling you squeeze around him as the messy squelch in between your legs becomes more pronounced.Â
âT-too much,â you sputter out.
âYou should probably cum them,â he offers as if it were a simple solution. âIf you want, I can work it out of ya.â
âF-fuck,â you inhale sharply. âPlease.â
He lets out a low, pleased hum before he just starts slamming into you, making the bed shake as he starts to knock the absolute wind out of you. His free hand snakes down, slipping down in between your legs until the pads of his fingers find your clit. You tense as he presses on it firmly, breath faltering once he starts rubbing little circles.Â
His grip around your waist tightens as he keeps going, not minding your nails as they start scratching and digging into his arm. Soon youâre let out a sharp cry, trembling as you start gushing all over his cock.Â
And the way you pussy clamps down and just starts milking him has his thrust growing sloppy, fucking you both through it.Â
âFuckâ fuuck,â he lets out a breathy groan, doubling over and nearly squeezing you to death when he starts pumping you full of hot cum, flooding your sensitive walls. He breathes heavy, grinding against you, giving you every last drop. âShitâ that was so fuckinâ goodâ are you alright?âÂ
Youâre lying limp in his arms, nodding weakly, trying to catch your breath. âUh-huhâ
âYouâre so shaky right now,â he heaves, gently letting you down on the bed. âI fucked you good this time.â
âShut up,â you barely snap at him, âGo get me my food, I canât fucking walk right now.â
âFuckâ Iâm sorry. Donât kick me out.â
âGet me my fucking food.â
âYes, maâam,â he nods, putting his boxers on and walking out of your room with a little smile on his face.Â
. . .
Heâs leaning against the fridge as he lets his mind run off for a bit, aside from the microwave whirring in the background, itâs quietâ a rare occurrence for Satoru. He doesnât snap back to reality until he hears footsteps coming up behind him.Â
He looks over his shoulder to see you back in the clothes he nearly ripped trying to get off you. And that youâre walking perfectly fine.Â
âThought you couldnât walk,â he points at you, gesturing his finger up and down.
âSo did I,â you shrug, wrapping your fingers around the fridge handle and pulling it open to retrieve a white claw. You can physically feel Satoru staring at you, while something in your spirit is telling you that heâs waiting for you to offer him one.Â
You crack it open as you turn to look at him.Â
âCan I help you?â
He doesnât answer right away. Initially, his eyes drift to the drink in your hand and look at it quite longingly. âThat looks good.â
âIt is good,â you say, then obnoxiously take a sip. âPairs really well with noodles.â
âIâm sure.â His tones flat as he looks back at the drink.Â
You have no idea why heâs so set on waiting for you to offer him one, but you eventually do because youâd rather not get into some weird silent war with him. âWould you like one?â
âYes, I would,â he says with a blissful sigh, reaching into the fridge to get one for himself.Â
The microwave beeps, you open it, and take the plate out yourself. âYou know you can just grab one, right?â
The can cracks and he takes a sip, then nods. âI know, I just wanted you to offer me one.â
âYeah, you made that pretty obvious,â you laugh and walk to the living room, and Satoru naturally follows. âDo you want some of my food, too?â
âNoâ appreciate you asking, though.â
âSure,â you say, before muttering, âweirdo.â
Heâs the first one to grab the remote and put something on, taking advantage of the fact that you havenât pushed him out yet, like you do 60% percent of the time. The 40% is too random for him to be able to tell when itâll happen next.Â
You werenât planning on kicking him out too soon today, though, since heâs currently hiding from an entire group of women.
âWait, so what did you do to get those girls to hate you?â
âGot dared to homie hop.â He casually shrugs, taking a sip from the can. âOver the course of one weekend.â
âWhat is wrong with you?â you ask with the utmost disappointment.Â
He points to himself. âIn my defense, I was 18.â
âI guess.â You stifle a laugh before feeding yourself another fork full of food. âIâm surprised they still hate you that much.â
âYeah, I got dared to do it again last year,â he finally mentions, just as casual as the last time.Â
You pause for a moment as you try to think of an answer. You never do. âYeah, I think Iâd hate you, too.âÂ
He delusionally brushes you off. âYou wouldâve loved me. Iâm a great friend.â
There's a contemplative look on your face as you tilt your head, thinking of all heâs revealed to you about himself, which is probably just a 3rd of all heâs done. âIâm sure you are.â
âI am,â he scoffs.Â
âYeahâ thatâs what I said.â You laugh, wiping the side of your mouth off with a napkin before throwing it on the empty plate, getting up to put it away.
You're in the kitchen when Satoru raises his voice to say something to you.Â
âI am your friend, right?â he asks.Â
You close the dishwasher and walk back out into the living room, thereâs a slight pout on his face as he walks for an answer.Â
âYeah,â you let out an amused sigh. âYouâre my special friend.â
âYeah?â He sinks further back into the sofa, looking more pleased. âSpecial enough to talk to outside of here?âÂ
âFuck no,â you say with zero hesitation, wiping the smile off his face again. âYou wouldnât be special anymore. Is that what you want? You wanna be an average normie?â
There are two things in this world that Satoru would never want to beâ average and poor.
He crosses his arms and scoffs. âYou really know how to turn a situation around on other people, donât you? Thatâs pretty evil, yâknow that?â
You feign innocence, looking at him all concerned. âI have no idea what youâre talking about.âÂ
âWhatever,â he rises from his seat, accepting your evil nature and his role as your special little slut. âCan we shower together?â
You give a bored look, knowing heâs gonna try to get you to scrub his back. âFine.â
. . .
Tonightâs just like every other Friday night. The bass of the music bouncing off the walls, loud conversations happening in every direction. Most people are having a good time, while some are crying their eyes out over something thatâll seem minuscule a couple years from now. The only thing thatâs changed is Satoru hasnât, and most likely won't, bring a girl up to his room tonight.Â
For once, all of his attention is on playing his fifth round of beer pong.Â
The guys will still give him shit for the sudden change, but it was never a bad thing, just odd. Theyâve given up on theories as to why after realizing Satoru really wasnât going to cave and tell them this time around. Not even Suguru. He doesnât need to ask, though, he knows Satoru is fucking someone. With how secretive heâs been though, heâs most likely sneaking around with someone thatâll get him in trouble if word gets out. Like the wife of one of his father's very affluent and important friends, perhaps? It was on brand for him.
It wasnât that serious. Suguru will find out, eventually. He just hopes it doesnât end badly for his friend thatâs brought enough scandals for his family, being the problem child heâs always been. Hell, heâs being problematic right now, pulling Suguru out of his thoughts as some poor girl tugs on Satoruâs shirt.
Suguru has no idea what she said to him, but he steps in a little closer, pretending to focus on the game as he listens to whatever his friend has to say. Satoru barely looks at her and responds, not only rudely, but with quite possibly the most ridiculous words Suguru has ever heard come out of his mouth.Â
âSorry, sweetheartâ I like my women a little more grown.âÂ
Mind you, they were in the same year.Â
She laughs, thereâs still stars in her eyes as she looks at him. âWait, what?â
He shortens it. âMânot interested.â
âWhy?â she asks, eyes growing dull.Â
And Satoru, having already lost his patience, takes a step back and looks at her from head to toe, looking for another reason. Itâs quite embarrassingâ standing there and waiting for someone to figure out what they donât like about you.Â
âYeaah, no.â He takes another look at her. âYou just donât do it for meâ sorry.â
Youâd think itâd be fine since he didnât point out any of her features, but being told you âdonât do itâ for someone that youâve already fucked doesnât feel very good, nor does realizing that he completely forgot that they have, multiple times. Heâs gotten drunk and fucked a lot of people. Keyword: Drunk. He doesnât remember most of the time, hence his initial confusion when she threw a drink in his face.Â
Unfazed, he wipes the remnants of her drink off his face, throwing her off in the process as he treats it like itâs a common occurrence and that heâs used to it (heâs very used to it).
âYou just proved my fuckinâ point,â Satoru says, still unimpressed as he takes his shirt off and continues to casually wipe himself off. âGrow up.â
The comment makes her realize he was being dead serious with his original reason for rejecting her, even though he had zero problem with fucking her at the beginning of the year. âOh fuck you, Gojo,â she ends up cursing at him as she storms off, furious and embarrassed.
âYeahâ not happening!â he laughs and yells back loud enough for her to hear.
Suguru just laughs because fucking called it. He totally was seeing someone older, and Satoru's response gave it away. Suguru doesnât mention it, though. âYou coulda been a little nicer, yâknow?â
âWhatever,â he waves him off, knowing he couldâve been ruder, but chose not to. âIâll probably never see her again after graduation, anyway.â
Suguru shrugs. âYou never know.â
Satoru ruffles his hair with the semi-damp t-shirt in his hand, wondering why his friend decided to embrace his inner Gandhi when heâs just as bad as him. Satoru literally watched him tell a girl to stop crying after he cut things off with her, then added salt to the wound by giving her some speech about how she wouldnât run after a snake and explain how being bitten made her feel. Suguru wasnât technically wrong, but he did not have to say all that. With that being said, he wasnât in the mood to listen to Suguru lecture him any more though, and lets the comment go.Â
âIâm gonna go wash the rest of this shit off,â he says, referring to the sheer pink stain on his hair.Â
Suguru pats his back a couple of times as he continues to laugh. âHave fun with that. Try not to run into her or friends.â
Satoru hoped not, that mini-meltdown was enough for him. He wasnât stumbling or anything, but having to walk through crowds to get to his room made him realize he was drunker than he realized, not that it made him feel any remorse for the words he said. They did not warrant getting a drink thrown in his face.Â
The first thing he does when he gets to his room is kick out a couple making out on his bed, throwing a couple of insults and threats their way as they scurry out of his room. Then he walks into his bathroom to wash his hair off in the sink, which leads to him completely stripping down in frustration and hopping in the shower, in hopes that itâd sober him up a bit.Â
It doesnâtâ it just makes him want to call it a night.Â
He dries himself off and throws on a pair of boxers and sweats before sitting down on his bed with his phone in hand. His thumb hovers over the call button as he stares at your contact. The room continues to spin as he wonders if you were even awake. It was pushing midnight.Â
After spending way too much time wondering if youâd answer, his thumb hits the screen. The phone rings once. Twice. Then a third time.
âWhat do you think youâre doing calling me this late?â you immediately grill him, your smooth and unhurried tone making you sound more amused than anything.Â
He smiles as he stifles a laugh. âI canât call you and say whatâs up now?â
âPeople donât usually call someone at midnight to say what's up.â
âMânot like other people,â he chuckles, though you know deep down inside, he wouldnât dare put himself in the same category as a regular person. There isnât one mirror heâs walked by and hasnât looked atâ the way Satoru looks at his own reflection could send anyone into a crisis, wondering if their spouses really did love them as much as they claimed.
âYeah, youâre real different,â you respond blandly, coming off as trying to knock him down a peg, when really youâre just trying to move on. âAnyways, what do you want?â
âYou should let me come over,â he doesnât hesitate to say, slurring his words slightly.Â
âNo.â
He pulls his phone away from his ear and looks at it with his brows pinched together, all hurt from how you didnât even bother thinking about it before giving him an answer.Â
âWhy not?â he grumbles, finding himself more offended than usual. âI miss you.â
Heâs reminded that you donât actually hate him when you begin to laugh at how endearing he can be, even when heâs just complaining. âI saw you two days ago.â
âWhat can I say, baby?â he murmurs, the stupid grin on his face widening when he hears you click your tongue. âYou make it hard not to with that tight little pââ
Are you drunk right now?â You cut him off, wiping the smile right off that little pervert's face.Â
âMaybe.âÂ
He hears you let out a disgusted scoff on the other side of the phone. âEw, no. I donât wanna fuck you when youâre all drunk and sloppy.â
At first, he lets out this noise that can only be described as what a pout would sound like if you could hear it. âFirst of all, Iâm not sloppy. Second, I wasnât asking to fuck, just let me spend the night. Itâs loud hereâ bunchaâ hooligans running around.âÂ
âSo you can fuck with my sleep?â
âBaby, I would never fuck with your beauty sleep,â he swears. âIâm a beastâ not a fuckinâ monster.â
âYou are such a fucking loser.â You pinch your nosebridge as you sigh and mutter under your breath. âYouâll be fine. Just take another shot and put some earplugs in.â
âI donât have any!âÂ
âHeadphones then,â you curtly say. âAnyways, Iâm going to bed nowââ
âNo, waitââ
âGood night~â
Click.
Satoruâs left staring at the wall in disbelief, jaw all the way to the floor. Surely you couldâve offered him a couchâ but you didnât bother, and the thought adds to the betrayal thatâs already exacerbated from all the shots heâs taken earlier. It doesnât go away, it just simmers once heâs processed the fact that you basically told him that he could suffer and fucking die, for all you cared, before hanging up.Â
The musicâs so loud that the walls are fucking shaking, thereâs no point in noise cancelling headphones when he can feelhow loud it is. His eyes dart between his phone, his dresser, and the door before finally getting up with an irritated sigh.Â
âFuck this.â
. . .
Instead of sleeping, like you said you would when hanging up on Satoru, you continued to watch what you put on the tv prior to answering your phone. Though with how late it was, your eyes inevitably grew heavier with each blink, and you found yourself beginning to doze off.Â
Until a knock on the door and the muffled sound of your name being called snaps you right back to reality.Â
âI swear to god if thatâsââ you begin murmuring to yourself as you walk up to the door, cutting yourself off because no shit itâs Satoru. You canât think of anybody else who would still come over despite being told no. Â
You swing the door open, annoyed that it doesnât swing outwards, it wouldâve been nice to hit him with it. Heâs leaning against the entryway to stop himself from swaying in place, as carefree as ever.Â
âWhat are you doing here?!â
Immediately, he begins to beg. âYou have got to let me sleep hereâ some nasty couple fucked on my bed and thereâs a group of psychos hunting me down with pitchforks.â
He was not going back there, and if a little truth-twisting is what it takes to get you to let him, then so be it.
Your face twists in annoyance. âHunt you down for what?!â
âFor turning one of them down.â He throws his arms out, pretending to be outraged. âThrew a drink in my face and everything just because I wouldnât fuck her! And now my bed smells like rotten fishââ
âJust get inside,â you snap at him, feeling an incoming headache starting to form from his theatrics.
âThank you.â
Despite showering and brushing his teeth, you can still smell some of the alcohol radiating off of him as he walks past you. Irritated, you shut the door a little too harshly, missing the way the man flinched as he stood there and waited for you. You completely ignore him, walking to the coffee table and picking up the remote to turn the T.V off. You walk off to your room after, with Satoru following right behind you like a lost puppy.Â
The decorative pillows get plucked off the bed one by one. The only reason why he doesnât ask if you need help with anything is that he is a little too scared to ask. You pull the duvet back and whip your head around to look at him.Â
âGet in,â you order, and he quickly walks around to the other side, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving his sweats on. âAnd do not wake me up tonight.â
âKayâ,â he says quietly, slipping the covers.Â
You follow, after killing the lights, sighing as you lay your head back and close your eyes. He awkwardly lies there at first, arms pulling the blanket up to his chest, staring at the ceiling. Itâs not how he sleeps, and frankly, he is really fucking uncomfortable. Heâs also scared to move right now.
But Satoru is Satoru, and at the very last minute, turns and snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. He slides a leg in between yours, and you open your mouth to protest, only to get cut off by his slightly nervous voice.Â
âGood night.âÂ
. . .
Satoru wakes up twice.Â
Once at 6:00 am to a pounding headache. He got up to look for an over the counter painkiller. Luckily, he found some in the first cabinet he opened in your kitchen and downed more than he shouldâve before getting back in bed, throwing an arm and a leg over you, and falling back asleep.Â
Then again, at 11:00 am, when he hears some shuffling around the room and realizes you are no longer next to him.Â
He opens one eye and mumbles, âWhere are you going?âÂ
Youâre in a hurry as you put a pair of socks on. âTo a pilates class.âÂ
âCan I come?â he pops his head up and asks, struggling to open both eyes.
Thereâs an incredulous look on your face when you pause and look at him. âAbsolutely not.â
âWhy not?â
âWell, for one, you look like a fucking mess right now.â He didnât really need to hear that, he already figured it out since he feels like one right now. âTwo, I donât need you sitting alone in the corner, watching me for an hour straight.â
âThatâs mean as fuck.â
âNot one lie was told,â you argue back, getting the last sock on and rising to your feet. âIâm not kicking you out just yet, so you can stay if you want.âÂ
âOh, I fuckinâ will.â It comes out as if kicking him out was never an option to begin with, earning himself a little side eye that he was too busy stretching his arms out to notice. You quickly let it go, figuring the hangover was doing a number on him. âDo you have food?â
âYeah, just look around in the fridge.â You look at your watch, then throw your bag over your shoulder after realizing youâre just barely running on time. âIâll be back in like an hour.â
âKayâ,â he yawns, lying back against the pillow and closing his eyes once you're out of view.Â
As much as his head hurts, heâs glad heâs suffering here and not at the house. Itâs quiet, your bedâs comfy, time actually feels like itâs running slow for once. There are another 15 minutes of peace before it is ruined by the ring of his phone.Â
Before he reaches for it on the nightstand, he takes a few seconds to shove his face into the  pillow and let out a slew of curses. He picks up the phone and answers, as if his head wasnât pounding more than ever.Â
Itâs Suguru, whoâs not as concerned as he is confused. âHey, soâ youâre not home.â
âMânot,â Satoru mumbles.Â
Suguru gives him room to explain, but speaks again when he realizes Satoruâs not going to take any of it. âWhere are you then?â Again, not concerned, just confused.
âAt a friendâs,â Satoru vaguely says. Even in his current fucked up state, he still remembers that you donât want him talking about you at all.Â
â...and this is the friend that youâre not fucking and avoiding everyone for, right?â
He lets out a laugh. âExactly.â
At least Suguruâs smart and is able to read between the lines, meaning that was enough information for him. âAlright.â He laughs with him. âIâll let you go then. Have fun with your friend.â
âI will.â
Right after he hangs up, he hears another notification go off thatâs not from his phone. He hears the ping a couple more times and quickly realizes itâs your phone hiding under the sheets. You were in too much of a rush to realize you forgot to bring it with you.Â
Satoruâs not one to look through someone elseâs phone. He never has, never cared to, never felt the need to. So fighting the urge not to was not only something new, but incredibly fucking difficult. Itâs literally right in his hand. He even knows your passcode from the one time he watched you unlock it because his memoryâs perfect.Â
One minute. Heâll just give himself one minute to take a peek.Â
. . .Â
Itâs been several.Â
Putting it down, while heâs in the middle of scrolling through a particular conversation, feels impossible. Even when he knows heâs just ruining his own morning by looking at it, he continues to read and make mental notes.Â
His names Shiu. 37 years old. Moderately successful.Â
Boring as fuck.Â
He can tell when someoneâs forcing themselves to keep a conversation alive, and canât wrap his head around why youâd even bother when itâs over shit you have zero interest in. Shiu hasnât even complimented you once. Nothing about you physically, not even the bare minimum of making a comment about how he enjoys talking to you, since itâs you carrying all of these dry, meaningless conversations.Â
It's like he just expects you to talk to him.Â
He continues to scroll, getting closer to the more recent messages, and Satoru finally sees something interesting. Not for you or Shiu, but for him. Reservations for your date next weekend. The first date.Â
And also your last.
. . .Â
Before you met him, Shiu wasnât someone youâd ever imagined yourself being with. Heâs calm, quiet, and more of a listener than he was a talker. Not much of a joker or a gossiper.Â
He was just stable. Rooted. Shiu is a man who couldnât be moved.Â
He was a safe choice. A smart one. A mellow man with a successful career. Given your track record of failed relationships with men that you chose based on how exciting you found them, maybe it was time to be smarter.
Some may say it was settling, but you say itâs being practical and choosing whatâs best for you.Â
After a few weeks of casual texting, you were finally having dinner with him tonight. You werenât exactly excited, but you werenât nervous eitherâ maybe this is him rubbing off of you.Â
Youâre not sure, honestly.Â
It feels like thereâs something missing, and in its place is the weight of something that refuses to show itself to you, as if its sole purpose was to burden you with confusion.Â
You take one last look at yourself before you leave, smoothing your hand over the long, tight black dress you chose to wear. Flattering, not too revealing. The same for your shoes, just simple black kitten heels.Â
At the last minute, Satoru manages to squeeze his way into your mind as you randomly recall the last time you saw him, which was exactly a week ago. The only thing that was off was his supernatural ability to bounce back from a hangover in under an hour. He was fine by the time you got homeâ at least fine enough to follow you into the bathroom for some shower sex.Â
You havenât heard from him since he went home that day. You should be relieved, you wanted him to get bored with you and pull away, yet here you are, wondering why you havenât heard from him.Â
. . .
Shiu wasnât a man who couldnât be movedâ that would require being passionate about something, and so far, heâs about as dry as a matchstick.
And maybe there is something that heâs passionate about, but you doubt it. Itâs not necessarily a complaint, just a change in the way you saw him. Shame on you for building up a false idea of him in your head.Â
At least heâs still calm and quietâ youâre just hoping that all there is to him.Â
As for now, Shiu was like a constant stream of water that never changed in temperature. He was a place on earth where the weather never changed. A solid 70 degrees, every single day. Acceptable. Easy to digest. Nothing out of the ordinary is ever likely to happen with him.Â
Heâs still a safe choice.
Youâre not exactly sure how itâd be whatâs best for you, though. You liked surprisesâ they turned an ordinary day into a day worth rememberingâ a life without them was just a forgotten past and pointless future.Â
You could be acting a little dramatic over it right now, but you are honestly sick and fucking tired of getting absolutely nowhere with all the guys youâve dated and spoken to.
Which is why you push yourself to consider that Shiu could just be a little shy, it's only 15 minutes into your date after all. You remind yourself that opening up takes time, for reasons that make only you feel better.Â
You havenât had a quarter life crisis yet, but learning that youâve spent all this time swinging sledge hammers and wrecking balls at a safe thatâs been empty from the start might finally take you there.Â
You take a sip of your wine and set it back down. âDo you know what youâre gonna order?âÂ
He slowly shakes his head, humming  indecisively. âNot yet.âÂ
You wait for him to say something else, but to no oneâs surprise, he doesnât. âYou mentioned itâs your 9th time coming here. Do you have any favorites that you reorder?âÂ
He hums again. âNah. The food hereâs decent, but I havenât had anything thatâs stood out to me just yet.âÂ
Itâs not often people leave you speechless, especially on first dates, but here you are. Tight lipped, eye threatening to twitch.Â
âWowâ youâre 9th time here, and you still havenât found a dish that left you satisfied at the end of the meal?âÂ
Youâre really hoping he backtracks and corrects you. Coming to a restaurant you donât like that many times was one of the most ridiculous things youâve ever heard.Â
âNot yet,â he smiles and shakes his head, as if wasting his time and money on a restaurant he didnât like was just a silly little quirk of his. âMaybe today will be the day.âÂ
Why the fuck would he take you here?
âFingers crossed,â you force out a light laugh, feeling your patience start to fade.  âSo youâre just gonna keep coming here until youâve gone through the entire menu?âÂ
âYeah, I guess,â he chuckles, not catching the slight irritation in your tone. âWhat can you do, you know?âÂ
âI mean⊠you can always try new restaurants,â you suggest.Â
âNah.â He waves a hand as if that's doing too much. âEasy to stay here. I already know what to expect.âÂ
It took the amount of discipline a sergeant had to hold back on saying that this wasnât the doctor's office or the fucking barber shop.Â
You can absolutely check other places out.
Does this guy not understand free will exists?Â
âMakes sense,â you lie, pushing out all the enthusiasm youâre able to put forward. âNo point in fixing something if itâs not broken, you know?âÂ
âExactly,â he proudly nods.Â
âThere you two are!âÂ
âŠYou were going to kill yourself if itâs who you think it is.Â
At first, you ignored the familiar voice and instead took an extra big sip of wine.Â
He hates being ignored though, so instead of pulling up a seat between you and your date as he had originally planned, he sits right next to Shiu and smiles at the way you instantly freeze.Â
You hate to admit how good he looked tonight. His hairâs styled for once, loosely brushed back with some expensive styling cream. You canât help but notice how much sharper his eyes look with his hair out of his face. More rough and intimidating. He was in a white button up, tailored to perfection, rolled up at his elbows, leaving the top buttons of the shirt unbuttoned to show off the chain he always wore. Grey tweed trousers, also tailored to perfection.Â
âMy badâ ran into some traffic on the way here.âÂ
Satoru turns to Shiu, whoâs even more confused than you, and holds his hand out for a handshake, giving him a veryformal introduction.Â
Afterwards, Satoru proceeds to pluck the menu out of your date's hand.Â
âAlright, Shiu, what are we getting tonight?âÂ
Shiu is visibly appalled when he looks at you, but doesnât say anything because heâs never had a stranger do that before. Especially when the strangerâs as eccentric as Satoru.Â
âIâ I donât know.â Your date stumbles on his words at first from the surprise of Satoruâs sudden appearance. âI didnât get to finish looking through the menu.âÂ
âWaitâ really?âÂ
Satoru looks at his watch and sees how you two have been here for nearly 20 minutes, and he still hasnât picked something. He doesnât wait for a response and hands the menu back since he already found what he liked, which sucks for you because now he can direct his attention elsewhere.Â
He leans back and nods at you, because you havenât spoken at all yet.Â
âWhatâre you getting?â You catch the split second his entire expression darkens. He is fucking pissed.
âThe cod and asparagus,â you murmur.Â
âThatâs fucking disgusting,â he says through a smile, playing it off as a joke even though you both know itâs not. âYour palate sucks though, so Iâm not surprised.âÂ
âYeah, noâ itâs fucking awful,â you let out a laugh. âI need to start eating betterâ feels like Iâve been eating nothing but junk the past few months.âÂ
His face drops, and just before heâs about to say something 10x ruder, Shiu cuts in.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm still confused,â he takes several steps back to about 5 minutes ago, âwas there some sort of mix up here? I thought this was a date-date, not a dinner withâŠÂ friends.â Shiu looks back at you, and youâre no help, youâre just glaring.Â
âA date?â Satoru huffs out a laugh, making the man look like an idiot for even thinking this was a date. âItâs been dinner this whole time. Youâre the one who booked a reservation for four, our other friend couldnât make it.âÂ
Shiu's face twists in confusion. âWhat? No, no, noâ I booked the reservation under two.â
âNo, you didnât. It was booked under four,â he sadly breaks it to him. âYou can go ask the receptionist if you want, but I swear itâs four.âÂ
Shiu gets up from his seat to go talk to the receptionist, because he knows he booked it for twoâ heâs not fucking crazy.Â
And itâs true, heâs not. Satoruâs the crazy one here.
Heâs still gonna go home believing he is though, since the receptionist got paid to change the booking information and lie to him.Â
Satoru laughs just thinking about it, then downs the rest of Shiuâs wine, ready to gaslight him over that, too.Â
Finally, he looks back at you and feels a sick sense of satisfaction. Youâre angryâŠÂ baffled, in complete and utter disbeliefâ youâre looking at him like youâre two seconds away from jumping over the table and strangling him.Â
Though in the end, you gather yourself together as you finally ask: âWhat are you doing here, Satoru?âÂ
âWhy the fuck are you on a date with someone right now?â His tone clipped, it sounds like heâs about to throw a fit.
âIââ you stop for a moment, reminding yourself not to yell. âSatoru, weâre not in a relationship.âÂ
âFine, then,â he decides to rephrase it, âwhy are you trying to replace me? And with him? Seriously?!âÂ
âWhatâs wrong with him?!âÂ
âHe looks like a sleazy pornstar from the 80s!â
âNot everything is about looksââ
He laughs and cocks his head to the side. âOk, what is it then? Is his dick bigger than mine?â
Your brows pinch together. Of course, heâs worried about that. âNoâ I havenât even seen it yet.âÂ
âYet?!â his voice broke.Â
âI didnât mean it like that.âÂ
You try to use a more stern tone to get him to relax, but you donât think itâll work. Satoru looks fucking devastated.
âWhatâs next, you're gonna have babies with him?â
Your jaw drops at his conclusion. âWhat? No! Do you not realize how dramatic you sound right now?âÂ
âIâm being replaced by a man with fucking pornstache!â he points to himself and says.Â
âExcuse me?â Youâre both interrupted by a timid waitress. âUmâ the man that was here earlier just left.â
âIâm not surprised,â you mutter until your breath.Â
âYeahâŠâ she sighs, almost apologizing for it. âWere you guys ready to order?â
You glance back at Satoru, and heâs looking away with his arms crossed. âCould I just get the bill for the drinks?â
âOh, no worries about that! Itâs all been covered already by Mr. Gojo. You can just head out when youâre ready.â
âOkay. Thank you.â
âOf course! Have a good nââ she cuts herself off, knowing damn well you werenât. âTake care.â
You wouldâve laughed at how timid she was if you werenât so irritated, and instead just nod and smile. You look back at the date crasher, contemplating whether you should thank him or not for trying to cover the bill, but hold off, knowing he probably only did it to assert even more dominance over your date than he already has.Â
âWeâre leaving.â You rise up and grab your purse. Satoru doesn't even look at you, let alone move an inch, because heâs throwing a fucking tantrum, so you slam your hand on the table. âGet up.â
He gets up.
Thereâs a slight pout on Satoruâs face as he follows you out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. His hands are shoved in his pockets, dragging his feet.Â
âWhereâs your car?â you ask.Â
âThere,â he mumbled and nodded in its direction, then suddenly, youâre pinching his ear and yanking on it.Â
âOwââ
âWalk,â you say through gritted teeth, pinching harder.Â
âOwâ fuckâ I am,â he chokes out. âOw, ow, ow.â
You continued to drag him through the parking lot, ignoring his pleas for you to let go.Â
âSuck it up,â you coldly respond. âYou were asking for it when you crashed my date.â
âIâm sorry, IâŠÂ ughâ Iâm really not, he was lame as fuck, but stillâ your nails, ow.â
âExactly, so get over it,â you continue to scold him. âCanât believe you fucking did that.â
âBecause youââ
âI donât wanna hear it,â you cut him off, giving his ear one last tug, leaving him next to the driver's side door of his car. âTake me home. Now.â
gojo when reader said she hasnât seen it âyetâ:
⥠spawned from this ask which was inspired by this fic.
ïœąđŹđ: smut ïŸ MDNI 18+ ïŸ naoya x milf!reader ïŸ canon au ïŸ brief mentions of toji x reader situationship/marriage ïŸ reader has a baby girl with toji (tomie) ïŸ naoya also becomes our baby girl âĄ ïŸ heavy lactation kink ïŸ reader bullies naoya until he breaks ïŸ dommy mommy reader ïŸ naoya tears ïŸ dirty smut ïŸ cowgirl ïŸ fluffy bits ïŸ naoya got lots of mommy issues to heal ïŸ reader is a kamo and has blood manip CT ïŸ there's a bit of plot too sprinkled in too ïŸ tiny mentions of choso and gojo as well ïŸ art: fateshatter ïŸ đđŹ: 9714ïœŁ
Someone will die soon.
Naoya scowls, glaring up at the ceiling in his bedroom.Â
The slated bamboo above him offers zero consolations to the fact that the universe is, personally and specifically, out to get him.
Fate has decided he should share a wing of the Zenin estate with Toji's latest scandalâa pretty wife and a newborn daughterâthe latter of whom has declared war on his sleep schedule.
Flipping onto his stomach, Naoya crushes two pillows over his head to no availâthe piercing wails cut straight through.
Tsk. This entire situation is a special grade clusterfuck.
All thanks to Toji "deflowering" and knocking up the Kamo clan's most precious eldest daughterâyet another scandal heâd dragged back to the Zenin household.
Truthfully, you are equally at fault.
A debutante turned degenerate, you're the furthest thing from pure or lotus-like. Your true nature has stayed hidden from good jujutsu society only through your father's willful blindnessâand even now, thoroughly scandalized, you can still do no wrong in his eyes. Nor in Choso's, your annoyingly overprotective half-cursed cousin.
As far as they were concerned, you'd been âcorrupted against your willâ.
So the blame landed squarely on Toji. And with his less than stellar reputationâto put it generouslyâno one dared argue otherwise.
Not that it stopped his snark every time he was scolded for it: "That garden had already been ransackedâI merely pitched a tent."
So despite being little more than glorified fuck buddies, both clans scrambled to save face. A shotgun wedding was arranged overnight. Heavens forbid a disgraced black sheep and a thot-daughter spark a war between two of the most powerful families.
The result: you and your squalling little parasite are now Zenin property.
But that alone wouldn't have landed Naoya in this mess.
Noâthis situation is special.
Seeing as the union only granted you and your daughter entrance to the familyânot Toji.
Not that he'd return even if given the chance. He only agreed to marry you for your sake, and your daughter's. Nothing beyond that. So without any real tie to an actual Zenin, you're little more than a ward who took on the name.
Yet Toji thought enough of you not to throw you to the wolves entirely. Before leaving to do gods-know-what as an assassin, Toji asked Naoya personally to watch over you both.
Naoya scoffed at first. Playing babysitter to some woman and her infant? Technically his father Naobito's responsibilityânothing he'd have to bother with until he assumed the role of heir.
StillâNaoya wasn't about to deny a request from Toji, who made it a point never to ask his family for a fucking thing (and who could also destroy them all on a whim.)
Toji-kun said he trusted Naoya alone with the task.
And to Naoya, that acknowledgment was everything.
Fine.
However, that just means seeing to your proper treatmentâit didn't mean Naoya signed up to be sleep-deprived.Â
Fuckâand if even a hint of a dark shadow appeared on his flawless complexion by morning?
There. Will. Be. Blâ
The final straw arrives before Naoya even finishes the thought.Â
A possessed banshee, 7th ring of hell, kind of screechâthat even rivals some curses he's previously exorcisedârings out so loud his right ear pops.
Thatâs fucking it!
Naoya is out of bed, his room and down the corridor in only four strides.Â
You had to be awake.Â
Not even the dead could sleep through this.
So, why the hell hadnât you handled it already?
How hard is it of all things to get a baby to shut the fuck up?Â
Youâre its mother arenât you?!
Reaching your quarters, Naoya yanks the shoji door open.
And immediately freezes.
As he expects, youâre wide awake.Â
Yet nothing could've prepared him for your silk robe to be wide open and resting at your elbowsâleaving your breasts completely exposed.
Seated in the midst of tangled blankets and sunken pillows, you shift restlessly to find a position that comforts your baby girl enough to latch while she stubbornly thrashes in your arms.
You give up with a weary sigh, returning to the rocking. Her cries have lessened to frustrated whimpers now that she's moving, but they haven't stopped.
From the doorway, Naoya gives you a measured once-over.
You look like shit. Hair frizzy and damp at your temples, tired eyes, a slight tremor of exhaustion in your hands as you reposition your daughter.Â
That said, somehow, infuriatingly, you still manage to look appealing.
The moonlight spilling through the slatted window ensures it as it traces your plush curves, highlighting the faint sheen of exertion on your skin catching the light like a glow.
Gaze dropping, Naoyaâs jaw ticks at the sight of your swollen, milk-heavy titsânipples taut and glistening with pearlescent drops, coaxed free by your baby's cries.Â
A creamy bead falls, dotting your daughter's cheek and you gently wipe it away.Â
You havenât noticed Naoya yet, too wrapped up in cooing out the same soft mantras of comfort that have proven useless all night.
Leaning against the doorway now with his arms folded, Naoya narrows his eyes, not used to being ignored. Even if unintentionally. However, his scathing reprimands die on his tongue, something about the scene turning his mouth desert-dry.
Every second drags like an hour, and Naoya with no patience remaining, sharply clears his throat, announcing his presence.Â
Your head lulls over to him without startling nor making any move to cover yourself. You just give him a drowsy, crooked smile that practically screams finally, someone capable of rational thought and basic impulse control.
"Tch. Pathetic reflexes. A curse would've killed you both by now."
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.Â
Technically, many would consider Naoyaâs very presence to be a curse all of its own.
However, in your defense, your own senses have been greatly off kilter since your pregnancy and childbirth. Not to mention, the sheer exhaustion a newborn brings to a first time motherâyouâre too concerned with your daughter, Tomie, to notice anything else.Â
Of course, you donât expect Naoya of all people to realize that though.
âSee, Tomie?â you whisper preciously to your daughter as you continue rocking her, âYou woke up your cousin with all that fuss. Now Nao-chanâs just as grumpypuss as you, my love.â
Nao-chan?!
The nickname lands like a slap and Naoya flinches, no longer reclined on the door.
You werenât even that much older than himâso what gives you the right to reduce his name to something soâŠugh, cutesy?
It makes him sound soft.Â
Like some harmless stuffy to be cooed at alongside the child in your arms. Nevertheless, a small flush creeps up Naoyaâs neck all the same.
Tutting, you shift Tomie upright so she can get a proper look at her cousin, still rooted in the doorway like he's being personally affronted.
She stills at the sight of Naoya, matching his energy.
Appraising him with tiny copies of Toji's stark emerald eyes, Tomie holds that same unsettling scrutiny packaged in a cute face that carries you both unmistakably.
Not to be outdone, Naoya sharpens his gaze, his lips set in a thin line.
You snort under your breath at the scene.Â
Looks like the infamous Zenin scowl curses another generationâand Naoya, the pompous heir himself, doesn't look remotely inclined to lose a staring contest to someone who can't even burp unassisted.
Growing bored, ultimately Tomie gives first as she blinks, babbling baby talk. A chubby arm wriggling free and batting clumsily toward him, breaking the stalemate.
"Oh?" you simper, eyes flicking from Naoya, who looks smug to have bested an infant, to your daughter.Â
"Not you being the mature one, my girl."
Your giggles make Naoya bristle, his mouth opens to speakâbut you're already talking over him.
âCâmere, she wants a truce.â you beckon sweetly, inviting him in.Â
Frankly, youâre thrilled something has caught your baby girlâs attention long enough to distract her from cryingâeven if it is her obnoxious ass cousin.
Naoya, for his part, fully intended to reject the invitation.Â
To snap at you toâshut that thing the fuck up and put those saddlebag tiddies away while you're at itâto be done with the whole debacle so he could sleep. But his scathing reply dies somewhere between your airy laughter and the light sheen of milk saturating your areolas.Â
Conceding like heâs being called by some unknown force, Naoya crosses your threshold. He reasons that if a quick greeting would quiet the petite goblin for the night, he could comply just this once for his own sake.
Approaching your futon, Naoya sits beside you, back straight, on his knees. His posture is cautious, as if through mere proximity alone either your baby girl or your milk heavy tits could explode at any moment.
Which brings him to the point that you still haven't moved a muscle towards covering yourself for some fucking reason that eludes him entirely.
However, Naoya isnât about to let a mere pair of tits shake him. If you donât care, neither does he. At least thatâs what he tells himself as he forces himself to keep his eyes level with yours.Â
Noaya, steady with all the focused determination expected from the leader of the Hei and Zenin heirâeyes shoot to your tits again the moment you glance at your daughter.
Fuck.
Swallowing heavily, Naoya doesnât even understand why heâs so enthralled with them. Heâs seen plenty of boobs, ones that look way better than yours too. From this close, Naoya can make out the strain of them, skin stretching thin and the small veins showing from underneath. Not the delicate sight of a ladyâs chest, no, yours are so obscenely engorgedânot to mention leakingâmore like fattened cow udders. Â
So huge, in fact, that they look heavy and feverish.Â
OrâŠmaybe, that was just him.Â
The room is getting kinda stuffy.
Shit. Naoya just can't seem to look away from your ginormous mommy milkers. Unable to decide if he's repulsed or utterly entranced. And he's so busy wrestling with that internal crisis that he doesn't stop you from doing something completely fucking unhingedâ
âlike handing him Tomie.
Realization hitting, for the briefest, teeniest micro-second, Naoya nearly yeets her.Â
Not even to be an asshole. Just pure reflexes.
Naoya genuinely abhors children. Heâs never held anyoneâs child and he sure as hell hadn't expected you to dump yours into his arms out of fucking nowhere.
Thankfullyâas that very well would have been his ass once Toji found outâNaoyaâs a well skilled sorcerer. His own self-preservation instincts reduce the action to a mere undetectable twitch of muscle.
Even so, he looks far more petrified than he realizes and that you do pick up on.Â
It doesn't register to him how ridiculous he looks until you're practically shaking with suppressed laughter at his statue-like posture.Â
âSheâs not made of glass, you know,â you chuckle at Naoya clearly being so majorly out of his depth. âJust relax, yeah? Rock Tomie a littleâshe likes you for some reason. You can manage that canât you?â
Naoya looks at you like you've sprouted two heads.Â
He doesnât want to rock a fucking babyâeven if it is Toji-kunâs offspring.Â
Who the fuck do you think he is?Â
Besides, relaxing wasn't really an option considering how close he'd come to his own death sentence moments ago. But even stranger, he realizes, he hasn't said anything cutting in a minute to remind you of your place, which is frankly weirding him out more than holding the baby is.
HoweverâŠ
Youâre simply trusting Naoya to hold her at the moment, easy as that.Â
Heâs the Zenin heirâof course thatâs fucking something âhe can manage.â
To Naoyaâs surprise, Tomie has actually settledâtension gone from her tiny body, that very Zenin furrow smoothing from her brow as though to say finally, another Zenin graces her prescenes.Â
She gurgles up at him, blows a bubble and pats his chest with a proprietary little hand.
Naoya frowns. Why does this feel less like soothing a child and more like being evaluated?
"Thereâ" you yawn unceremoniously, a flicker of life returning to your voice as you treasure the break. "See? She's just bored of mommy. Probably wondering where that deadbeat daddy of hers is."
Your slanderous, yet entirely accurate, remark about Toji is what finally has the venom returning to Naoyaâs tongue.Â
You of all people should consider yourself lucky to be married to him and birth his child.
Eyes flaring, Naoya turns to you andâ
Big mistake.
You're in the middle of a stretch. Arms overhead, back bowed, the sheer weight of your tits pulling at your spine until something cracks between your shoulder blades. Milk beads at your nipples from the motionâthen scatters. Futon. Blankets. Your lap.
A single drop landing square on Naoya's robe.
He braces for disgust. For his throat to tighten at the sheer audacity of your bodily fluids landing on him.
But the feeling never comes.
Just an overwhelming chemical need to lick the creamy droplet from his sleeve before it soaks in.
âAha!â you whisper excitedly, attention still on your baby girl in his arms. âMy little angel is finally asleep.â
You lean into Naoya, shoulder resting against his, your nipple grazing his armâand a dribble of milk trails down his sleeve. The drops bleed through the fabric, faint but undeniable.
He doesn't want to notice.
But he does, along with its scentâsomething like warm mochi and milk buns and pure want to taste it surges so hard this time he bites his cheek.
"Aww, how sweet..." Seemingly oblivious, you dare to poke his cheek, cooing. âTomi-chan loves her cousin Nao-Nao~!"
Nao-Nao?!
Hairs up on end, Naoya wants to hiss at you.
But your tone is too pure, too genuine. Â
Youâre just⊠like this.Â
A gentle aura surrounding you while next to your newborn causes you to mother everything in your surrounding area.
And that makes it all the worse.
Naoya doesnât need mothering. He never did, not even as a child himself.
Yet those thoughts contrast the awkward and unfamiliar warmth Naoya is so insistently trying to keep out of his chest.
Truly, heâd rather be put out of his misery than suffer it a moment longer.Â
As a Zenin, Naoya had been trained to treat any affection as weaknessâand weakness as a Zenin was the worst sin one could commit.
Thereâs an unspoken understanding in the clan: No scared cows.Â
No one member valued more than the strength of the whole.
And now, as a Zenin, you'd be no exception either. Even at the risk of Tojiâs or the Kamo clan's displeasure.Â
The Zenin are well practiced at making consequences look like natural outcomesâbe it accidental or personal failures.Â
Watching you smile so tenderly at your child, Naoya tells himself what he feels isn't guilt.
It's obligation.
Toji left you and Tomie in his care. Therefore it falls to him to set you straight if you both are to survive.
That's all.
"You're Toji-kun's wife and my ward.â Naoya growlsâalbeit low, careful not to trigger Tomie into another hellish chorus.
âYou will henceforth address me, the future head of this clan, as âNaoya-samaâ."Â
His words are cutting and to the point.
âAnd fuckssake, you will cover yourself when in front of men. You are not a Kamo any longer, youâre a Zenin. You will act accordingly or you will be handled.â
You retract immediately, smile dropping, wetting your lips into a pretty little pout that might have worked on a lesser man.
Naoya considers, for a moment, that he almost feels bad for you. Your lack of discipâ
Then you dissolve into hushed giggles and he regrets it entirely.
"Oh my gawwwd, you're actually deadass right now, aren't you!?" Hand over your mouth, tears of amusement prick your eyes as you try to keep your voice contained.
â..or you will be handledâ, you mimic, trying to sound as pompous as Naoya, although you donât imagine anyone ever could.
Noaya growls but you pay him no mind through your amusement, so he is almost startled when you suddenly stop and crowd his space once more.
âHandled, huh?â
Naoya keeps his eyes on yours through sheer force of willârefusing to acknowledge your tits swaying in his peripheral.
âAnd just who is going to handle meâŠâ You challenge, batting your eyes with a sensual pull of your lips, â...you, lil Nao-chan?â
Naoya grits his teeth, his eyes flashing.Â
Here he was trying to warn you and youâre making a mockery of him?!Â
If you werenât Tojiâs wife heâd teach you a lesson, heâdâ
"Awe, c'mon, Nao-Nao," you purr, caressing his arm which he quickly snatches away. "I thought you'd be the fun one! Ya knowâŠToji said you were the only half-decent guy in the family."
He stiffens.Â
"Toji-k-kunâŠâ Naoya clears his throat. â...he said that?"
âMm-hmm.â You hum. Not missing how Naoyaâs golden eyes catch light at his older cousins' praise of him. âTold me you were the only one here Tomie and I could count on.â
The light blush on Naoyaâs ears creeps down his neck and just like that Naoya begins rocking Tomie as you initially suggested. Carefully, tooâas if in this very moment he's made it his lifeâs mission to earnestly exceed all of Toji-kun's expectations for him.
Chest puffed and prideful, Naoya insists that, as future clan leader, it's âonly naturalâ Toji-kun would say such a thing about him.
You on the other hand have to perse your lips to keep from bursting into actual hysterics this time.
Whyâs that?
Because you just lied through your goddamn teeth.
The only thing Toji told you was that Naoya was an easy mark.
And he is.Â
Almost painfully so.Â
The way his ego swells. The way his whole aura brightens just from hearing his cousin's name.Â
Itâs all too adorable, honestly.
Naoya is too easily charmed and you're no stranger to charming all kinds of men. Hell, that's how you got knocked up in the first place.
But this type of emotionally stunted man?Â
Oh, you could definitely have some fun with him.Â
With Tomie finally asleep, you feel the familiar pull of mischief tug at you.Â
âBesides, Naoya-sama~~â
Your voice is all velvety compliance causing Naoya to completely miss the sarcasm underneath. He's also too distracted by your head on his shoulder and your boobs molding into his arm as you reach across him to fix Tomieâs swaddling.
"I think I'm decent enough, no?" Your lips curl deviously. "Seeing as I don't exactly count you as a man."
Naoyaâs cursed energy spikes, fury bleeding through his veinsâbut your Tomie shifts in his arms and Naoya has to choke it back, holding his fury.Â
You just cock your head, all innocence, like you haven't said something utterly slanderous.
"You shameless fucking slutâ" The chill in Naoya voice drops to frostbite temps, âI know you of all peoââ
âAye!âÂ
The whiplash is instantaneousâNaoya doesnât finish the sentence before you have two fingers pinching his cheek, twisting with the particular ferocity of a momma bear who's been awake for thirty-six hours and has simply stopped tolerating bullshit.
"Watch your fucking potty mouth around my damn kid, asshole."
Naoya seethes. He wants to tear into youâthe thot-daughter of the Kamo clan, standing on absolutely zero moral groundsâhe really, genuinely does. But the twist on his cheek tightens and this time he doesn't even need his survival instincts to do the math for him.
Naoya doesn't know your grade but you arenât a weakling.
Half his cheek isnât worth itâespecially if it woke the little hellhound in the process.
"...Whatever."
Satisfied at him backing down, you release him, smirking at the red blooming across his face.Â
Naoya resists rubbing it. Instead he huffs, hoisting your Tomie up onto his shoulder and bouncing her there in pointed silence. She'd stirred more from your outburst than anything he'd done all night.
This is all fucking ridiculous.
Naoya thinks and the second she settles once more he thrusts her toward you.
"Here. Take her. You're welcome, by the wayâsince clearly it takes a real Zenin to do what her own mother couldn't manage all night."
Rolling your eyes, you stop just short of slapping the shit out of Naoya.Â
The facts remain: that even as a newlywed, your ass might as well be a single mother. Your exhaustion is near biblical and your nerves are near shot and Tomieâthe perceptive little thing she isâhas likely picked up on every ounce of it, your nerves feeding hers in one miserable feedback loop tonight.
Yet, thanks to Naoya of all people, that loop is finally broken.
Shaking your head, you reach for your daughterâand then your body seizes. The pain hits your chest like a vice, jolting you back hard enough to steal your breath. Your hands fly to cup your breasts on instinct, fingers sinking into the weight of them.
"OH, shiiiiâowwww!" You wince.
âWhat the hell now?â Naoya still holds the baby out to you expectantly, brow arching as you curl into yourself.
"What the hell do you think, Naoya?" You grimace, biting back at him.Â
Face crunched in pain, eyes shut, youâre careful to take measured sips of air.
âShe cried all night and didn't eat. My tits are fucking killing me."
Realizing this meant heâd have to hold your baby girl even longer, Naoya makes an exasperated sound as he brings her fully into his arms again. Â
âYou know this is your archaic ass familyâs fault, right?âÂ
You crack an eye open at his diva-like attitude.
âI asked for a pump and the old battleaxe of a caretaker said no. âAll Zenins are fed from the sourceâ, you mimic in a nasally voice. âLike be so fucking for realâwhat damn century is this again?!â
Naoya snorts.Â
You've never had house rules imposed on youâyour father let you run the streets without consequence. So really, you're in no position to complain about the Zenin clinging to their traditions, insufferable as they may be, at least they had them.
"You knowâZenin wives are typically chosen for their training and poise. To think that the Kamâ" Naoya stops.Â
Mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-everythingâhis mouth open, agape like a fish.Â
Robe now pooled around your hips, you begin working one of your swollen breasts in both hands. Clinical in the way only fatigue makes a person, no couth left in you at this hour. Your thumbs knead carefully, pressing firmly into tender tissue, heel of your palm dragging across a tight knot to stimulate the stagnant flow of your milk glands.
A deep moan slips from your lips in tandem with a hard squirt spraying from your breasts as a reward for your efforts.
Another escapes, then another.Â
Your oversensitive nipple is drawn taunt with the prickly pain of relief as a thin stream begins to run along the curve of your tits, painting your skin in shiny rivulets all the way to your bellybutton.Â
Through it all Naoya has not even blinked, nor taken a breath for that matter.Â
Oblivious to his own staringâand your haughty smile.Â
"Really now, Nao-chan? You're salty I don't consider you a manâ" you muse, hands still diligently working out small drops of milk, "âbut how can I? When youâre drooling over my tits like a thirsty newborn."
Shaken, Naoyaâs eyes lock on with yours. The flush that had been camping at his neck floods his face all at once, searing his cheeks.
âI...â
You hush him.
Two fingers find your sternum, unhurriedâdrifting down your chest, down your belly, tracing the streaks of milk all the way down to your navel, gathering in the soft pudge of your mommy tummy.
Fingers thoroughly soaked, you gradually lift them to his lips. You hover them patiently, like you would a treat to a dog.Â
âOpen.â
Not used to taking orders, Naoya hesitatesâthen parts his lips anyway. Your fingers slide in and the taste hits him, rich and creamy with a faint savory edge he wasn't expecting.
It's good. Dangerously good.
His brain short-circuiting, Naoya doesn't stop even when the taste fades, lapping at your fingers and sucking the remnants from your nails with an eagerness he'll hate himself for later. A low croon threatens to escape his throatâthe kind of sound he'd never make consciouslyâand he forces it down along with the last traces of your milk.
Moreâhe wants more.
One look in Naoyaâs eyes tells you that. Dark, hooded, their usual sharp calculation completely goneâreplaced by something unguarded and hungry. He's still tonguing your fingers like there might be something left to find. The needy, restless flick of his tongue stroking heat into your core.
"Good," you murmur, retracting your fingers. "Now, go put Tomie down on her futon."
Naoya doesn't move.
But this stillness is different. Every muscle is coiled, feral cursed energy strumming hot through his veins. A wire crossed. His restraint is less like surrender and more like the moment preceding a strike.
So he says nothing. His aura speaks for him as he rises smoothly, crosses to the tiny futon, and sets your daughter down.
You simper in approvalâhe's not half bad at thisâbut you couldn't tell him that now. Not with the tension this thick.
Returning, Naoya lingers at the edge of your futon. The particular stillness of someone who's already decided how this endsâheâs just letting you go first.
"Well, c'mereâdon't go shy on me, Nao-Nao."
You crook a manicured finger at him, giggling.
Poor thing doesnât realize heâs playing right into your hands.
"I'm not shy."
He's not. But you're Toji's wife, and he's well aware of that. Somehow though, it only makes whatever this is more forbidden.
More worth taking.
"No?" Your voice dips playfully, baiting.
"Just a virgin then?"
Naoya sucks his teeth. He's never met a woman as infuriating as you he decides.
"I'm no virgin, whore."
No real bite to Naoyaâs voice this time though, not as he drops to his knees in front of you like a good dog. His own annoyance betrayed only by the whitening of his knuckles in his lap.
"Gotta be mommy issues then," you murmur, closing the remaining distance with a crawlâone last barb delivered right as you sink into his lap, forcing him cross-legged beneath you.
His contained fury is the most endearing thing you've seen all night to be sure.
"Shut u-up," he grits, voice scraping thin.
You rest your arms on his shoulders, holding deliberate space between your bodies. Tilt your head and take stockâhe's handsome, you'll give him that. Good bone structure, pretty mouth.Â
Shame he ever has to open it.
Your fingers drift to the piercings at his earlobe, toying lazilyâwhile your other hand works the short hairs at his nape, featherlight scratches that make him shiver.
Naoya steels himself, an unwelcome and unexplained feeling blooming in his chest as he wills himself to stay focused.
"I'll shut up once you help me." Your hand leaves his ears to find his wrist, guiding it to your body. "Please, Nao-chan. It hurts."
The need etching in your voice worms its way under his skin like a tick and Naoya is finding his ability to keep control greatly diminished from all the blood flowing into his cock.
"Massage from the base," you breathe, giving him instructions to stimulate the milk flow. "Pressure out, not in."
Naoya's palm flattens flush against your breast and whatever plans he had for control slip away on contact.
The heat hits firstâit's swollen, much heavier than he expected. Then the give of it, firm but yielding as his fingers curl to sink deeper. Naoya can feel the subtle shift of milk tracking beneath your skin, your breath hitching when he finds the right pressure, your nipple drawing tight against his palm.
"Just like that," you sigh when his rhythm smooths out. "You're a natural."
He adjusts without being told, reading your body's responses, and soon adds his second handâfinding the knot easily, pressing with both thumbs.
Surprise flickers across his face when milk spurts over his knuckles.
He nearly stops breathing.
You don't.Â
Your shaky exhale of relief punches straight through him and his cock throbs against his robes like a second heartbeat.Â
Naoya shifts, trying to adjust himself without you noticing.
You do however, gaze dropping, at the motion. He's so much larger than you'd have guessed for a man with such a fragile ego.
"Hmm. Certain parts of you are definitely enjoying this, Nao-chan."
Naoya clicks his tongue but doesn't deny it. He's too fucking hard to deny it.
His hands move againâone on each breast now, thumbs circling, palms compressingâdrawing a deep moan past your lips. He watches with something close to reverence as milk wells up with each careful stroke.
The less your chest aches, the lower heat travels, melting into your core. Youâre pulsing at the thought of his thumbs sweeping the same circles across your clit.
Breath heavy, biting your lip, you grasp at the robe on his shoulders to brace yourself. AÂ momentary loss of your own control which Naoya is in no position to take advantage of.
Not when his attention is fully captured by a fat, opalescent drop welling on your nipple, shiny even in the dim light.
Eyes wild with need, Naoyaâs tongue nearly pokes through the inside of his cheek.
"You wanna taste."
Itâs not a question.Â
"I already said you couldâor would you rather lick it up again, like a dog?"
But youâre just as desperate to be drained as he is to drain you. Naoya notices, you can tell. But his jaw is clenched so tight his molars might crack, eyes still glued to your nipples, and you almost tell him to relax before he breaks something and really does require nursing.
Your tits ache too badly to wait on his pride all night.
This time Naoya doesn't flinch when you cup his cheek. You guide him forward with unhurried gentlenessâthe same patience you show your daughterâand something about that tenderness dissolves whatever protests he had left.
His mouth closes over your nipple and he sucks, greedy and unguarded. Your fingers card into his hair immediately, drawing him in as the first pull sends an achy relief flooding through your breasts.
Naoya moans around you, shameless. Gluttonous. All pompous pretense abandoned.
"There it is," you murmur, smiling as you stroke him affectionately.
Your touch only makes him hungrier thoughâhis tongue flickering, writhing for more even as your milk flows steady now. You jolt when his hands grip your hips without warning.
Naoya braces himself but he's nowhere near steady. Nothing about him is. Breath ragged against your skin, his whole body carries a tremor he probably doesn't realize is visible.
"It's okay, I'm not going anywhereâŠ" you whisper, honeyed coos finally reaching him. "Youâre a good boy."
Naoya freezes.
He unlatches with a wet gaspâglossy white ring around his lips, golden-brown eyes blown wide and wild. Something just cracked open in him that he wasn't prepared to feel.
"Don'tâ"
Croaking on his own spit.
"Don't what? Praise you?" Your hands keep working through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, lulling him toward a surrender he's still trying to fight. "For doing so well?"
"I'm not a child."
But his voice wavers, unconvincing even to his own ears.Â
You're teasing him, yesâbut there's no cruelty underneath it. No disdain he can pinpoint as an excuse to push you away and escape from whatever this is.
"No?"
Bending forward, your lips ghost against his temple as you whisper:
"You don't want to be my good boy, Naoya?"
His nostrils flareâanger, need, humiliationâall of it written plain across his face.Â
Like an animal heâs cornered, unsure of his next move.
A moment passes.Â
Then Naoyaâs gaze flicks sharply to your other breast heâs yet to sample.
You raise a brow, but Naoya has just enough pride left to not dignify your question with an answer. Can't anywayâhis mouth is already latching onto the next targetâthe conversation over.
Need won. Clearly.
Naoya feeds more ravenously this timeâtongue rolling around your sensitive flesh, teeth scraping in a way you'd smack him for if it didn't feel so fucking good.
He's messy about it too. Milk running down his chin, neck and spilling into his collar.
Fuckâthis little shithead can really work his tongue.
Your head lulls, arching into him, melting against his mouth as you let him take his fill.Â
Your own lust is dampening your thighs now.
Damn. This wasn't the plan.Â
You'd meant to tease him a bitâlet him suck on your fingers, string him along and then duck him. Peel his pride back layer by layer, slowly, to keep yourself amused living amongst such a stuffy clan.
You had no idea how affection-starved Naoya was.Â
Let alone how much seeing him like this would turn you on.
Your pussy is screaming at you, becoming impossible to ignore. You haven't seen Toji in weeksârelief is overdue in more ways than one.
"N-Naoya�"
You call him, but he doesn't answer.
His thoughts are in disarrayâwalls crumbling around something long abandoned inside him.
What this isâwhat heâs feeling? Itâs deeper than anything he's charted. And it has nothing to do with your tits, your supple skin, or the way your milk dissolves on his tongue.
Naoya rarely finds himself lacking.Â
An upbringing in the Zenin estate hones you for perfection built from very specific arithmeticâcursed technique, tradition and hierarchy. Assembled inside those walls you learn quickly that anything useless you cut outâor someone else cuts it out for you.
But now?
Your gentle words.Â
You warm embrace.
Your hand moving through his hair likeâlike he's something worth tending to.Â
Like his worth was never something he had to earn.
It's driving him mad.
Worseâhe doesn't want you to stop.
âHello? Earth to Nao-chan.â You lit, snapping him out of his daze. âNot you milk drunk already, baby?â
Pouty and petulant, Naoyaâs arms snake around your waist to drag you closer until his face is buried between your tits, ignoring you.
Your hand slides between your bodies and finds himâthick and straining through his robes, the rigid shape of his cock unmistakable even through the layers. You lazily trace the outline of his long length with your palm.
Naoya's hips jerk up, gracelessly bucking into your touch.
You wonât let him go soft on you at the moment. Figuratively or literally.
"Aw, Nao-Nao," you coo mischievously. "What would Toji-kun think if he saw you like this?"
That finally gets you a reaction.Â
Naoya looks up at you scowlingâthough not to much effect as your nipple stays lodged in his mouth like a binky, spit-slick against his bottom lip.Â
He doesn't pull offâcan't, maybe.
Because as much as he worships his older cousin, the realization is settling in like rot: Toji-kun, for all his monstrous strengthâenough to tear apart the entire Zenin legacyâwasn't strong enough to resist you.Â
Hell, could anyone? Naoya considers the strongest he knows butâpshhhâheâs seen how Gojo is around women, tooâhe wouldnât stand a fucking chance against you either.
It makes him feel slightly less pathetic, if only barely.
"He'd not have any room to talk," Naoya growls against your skin as he continues to fuck himself against your palm, grinding his cock against your hand through the fabric in urgent thrusts.
Youâre feeding him and unraveling him at the same damn time. Leaving him chasing release and something else he can't articulate.
âShitâlet me fuck you before I completely lose it.â
Naoyaâs hands shoot to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh, gripping hard enough to bruise.
You blink, a part of you shocked he's even askingâeven if it is half-demanding and half-begging.
"Oh? So now you want to be in charge?"Â
Your hand withdraws and you let him roll your hips forward against hisâitâs more leisurely than the pace Naoya wants though, especially as your robes spread around your thighs and your bare pussy slides against his clothed cock.Â
You're so soaked, and he can feel your juices flooding through the silk, your wet heat branding him through the fabric.
Naoya grits, caught somewhere between rage and ruin.Â
God, how he wants to slip his cock inside youâinside your mouth, your titsâand definitely that haughty lil cunt of yours.
See what was so good it even stopped Toji-kun from pulling out.
"You think you're fucking me, Nao-Nao?"
Cradling his head, you swipe at your own cream still lingering at the corner of his lips.
âYou still have my milk around your mouth, baby.â
Naoya groans, barely controlled, like he's trying to rut through the layers of fabric.Â
He doesn't even realize how undignified he looks. The sounds he makes suckling at your tit are sloppy and needyâand you know he'd be mortified if he could hear himself over the squelching of your pussy rubbing against his silk robe.
Tightening your grip in his hair, you wrench his head back, forcing him to release your nipple with a wet pop.
A string of milk stretches from your bud to his lipâthen snaps.
Naoya gasps.Â
Lips trembling, chin sopping, eyes unfocused. Poor thing. He looks completely ruined and you've barely started.
Naoyaâs fists the fabric of your robe, already working at the tie. His gasps puff against your throat, mouth grazing up to your chin as he nibbles harderâthreatening meaner bites.
"L-Let me fuck y-you."Â
Naoya is begging now, not even trying to mask his need.
You tilt your head, considering, pondering on it like Naoya wasnât on his last thread of sanity, driven to insanity by the treacley taste of your creamy milk.
"Mm. No."
"I needâ"
Cutting him off, you push Naoya onto the futon in one smooth motion.Â
"Havenât you realized I know what you need, Nao-Nao?" Your voice is syrupy as you straddle him, hovering.
"I-IâFuckâ" The word scrapes out of him, guttural, clutching the sheets and throwing his head back onto the futon as his hips buck up into nothing.
You stay perfectly still. Not letting him take a single thing.
"Look at you." You coo, skimming a finger along his milk-stained collar. "Reduced to humping the air? Imagine, a Zenin heir with so little self-composure."
"S-Shut the fuck up, s-slut."Â
But his insults donât stop his hips, microthrusts wanting to chase the feeling of your messy pussy sliding over his cock again.
"Why?" You swivel your hipsâone deep agonizing grind that lets him feel your cunt clench against his cock through the ruined fabric. He's dripping now too, precum mixing with yours.Â
"I think you like it when I make you beg. You want to, don't you? So beg me."
Naoya's cheeks burn. He could easily flip you, pin you, and have his way.
He won't though.
Even through your teasing there's a care to your touch he's never let himself experienceâand resisting it has his nails biting crescents into his palms, hard enough to bleed.
"I bet you'd cum just like thisâŠ"Â
Your plush lips ghosting his Adam's apple, smirking as he squirms under you.Â
"...without ever getting inside. Soiling your own robe like a needy, prideful little boy who couldn't simply ask nicely."
The moan that rips from Naoya's throat is feral with need and thick with humiliation. His hips shoving upward, wanton for contact.
You don't give it, suspended just above him, your drooling cunt barely grazing his cock, watching him fall apart with all the patience in the world.
"Naoya, baby" Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, tenderly. "Tell Mommy what you want."
Naoyaâs eyes go wide.Â
Every muscle taut. Cheeks flushed dark.Â
The Zenin composure he was built from crumbling, reducing him to this.Â
On the brink, never has Naoya waited this long for something. Never has he been this turned onâand as much as heâs fucking furious about it, heâs also way past giving a fuck.
His eyes rake your body and snag on the trail of milkâsmeared on your tits, your belly, all the way to your cunt where it glistens in the dim light.
His mouth waters. Whatever resolve he had left shatters.
"Please..." Naoya whimpers, tears dusting the edges of his eyes, too wound up to realize he's handing you everything. "...fuck me."
You raise a brow, waiting.Â
Oh, heâs so close.
He knows it too. He knows what you want.Â
Naoya can see it on your face but there's no coming back from it once he says it. But what choice does he have? Heâd die if you sent him away like this.
"Please, fuck meâ"Naoyaâs voice cracks clean in half, a single tear running down his cheek. "âMommy."
You push his bangs up fondly, planting a chaste kiss right on his forehead.Â
"Thatâs my Good boy."
Naoya watches you with tears burning his eyes, chest heaving, too far gone to resist you any longer.
You tug the ties loose on his robe until the fabric falls away. His cock springs freeâangry, leaking and bobbing with every shaky breath he takes.
You have to admit it's pretty. His flushed red, cockhead peeked through its foreskin. You can feel his whole body shiver as you peel it back more.Â
Your mouth is watering for a taste yourself and god, if Naoya wasnât such a fucking tool youâd gladly suck him off.Â
That could come later thoughâyouâd make him earn that too. Subservience looks good on him afterall.Â
You'd be tempted to deny him longer if you weren't so hard up for it yourself, your gooey walls vibrating at the thought of a cock inside, at long last.Â
Toji's been gone for weeks and you need a stress release, bad.
You position your cunt just above the swollen head of his cockâclose enough for your juices to drip salaciously onto his tip, dribbling down his shaft.
Naoya squirms beneath you, and you drink it in.
"Craving to wet your cock inside Toji-kun's wife, hm?"
He can't answerânot when you sweep his cockhead through your folds, letting him glide through the mess of your wetness and the milk still coating your thighs. You're soaked enough to take him whole right now, no prep needed, and the thought makes your cunt clench around nothing.
Naoya moans, hips snapping up, trying to piston into youâand you shove him back down by the hip, pinning him to the futon.
"Behave."
"I'mâ" He swallows, voice wrecked. "I'm trying."
You smile, wiping the sweat off his brow with something close to care in your touch.
"Try harder for Mommy then, yeah, Nao-baby?"
You don't wait for his response.
You sink down, pussy swallowing him whole in one brutal stroke.
The stretch punches the breath out of youâwet as you are, he's still thick enough to make your walls spasm, to make your spine bow as he splits you open. You hate how good his cock feels dragging over every ridge inside you, the fat head kissing your cervix hard enough to make your thighs tremble.
Naoya gasps like you've knocked the wind out of him. You watch his mind go blank.
Hands flexing useless at his sides. Mouth falling open, slack and dumb. Eyes rolling until you can only see the whites, lashes fluttering against his cheeks.
"Y-You're f-fuckinâ tight," he rasps, too loud. "F-Fuckâyou're tight, y-you're soâ"
Clamping your hand over his mouth, palm pressed to his lips, your nails curl into his cheek. You feel him arch off the futon beneath you, a muffled whine vibrating against your skin.
"Shh." You hush. "You'll wake the baby."
Naoya nods furiously, chest heaving. You smile once he settles.
"Atta boy."
Naoya whines as you start to moveâhand still clamped over his mouth, bracing yourself as you ride him. A calculated wind at first, controlling the roll of your hips as you get a feel for him. The way he stretches you. The way a meaty vein throbs against your g-spot as you move.Â
ShitâNot bad.
Naoya trembles beneath you, hands fisted white-knuckled in the sheets, whole body wracked with the effort of staying still. Of not fucking up into you like a desperate, rutting animal.
"Mmmm," you murmur, rotating your hips in a lazy figure-eights. "Just like that, let it all go. Let me ride you. Let Mommy take care of you."
Naoyaâs whimpers bubble under your palmâpathetic, needy. He knows heâs being used. Heâs maintained zero control of the situation.Â
And yet?Â
He canât deny a heâs a fucking fiend for it.
Not when your cunt grips him like a fist. Not when he can feel how wet you areâ slick saturating his balls, staining the futon beneath you both. Your gooey pussy squeezes him so tight he can barely breathe, silky and warm, milking his cock like she was made to ruin him.
Then you feel itâhis balls twitching underneath your ass, drawing up tight. He's close.Â
Fuck, already?!
âC-Cumming that fast?â you pant out. â T-That fast? From your cousinâs wifeâs tits and cunt? Do I feel that good?â
Naoya is groaning as his eyes squeeze shut, biting his inner cheek and fisting the sheets.
"Nuh-uh." You tsk, stilling completely. "Bad boy. Not allowed."
Naoya's eyes fly open as yours begin to glowâred and ancient, blood-dark lines blooming beneath your lashes. He feels it. Your cursed energy pouring into him, flooding every vein, every capillary, settling hot and heavy in his balls.
The Kamo inherited techniqueâblood manipulationâseizes complete control.
Instantly, he veins in his balls bulge obscenely, his cock swelling even harder inside you. But he can't cum. You won't let him.
Naoya cries out, breaking into a sweat, pleasure flaring through him to excruciating levels as every one of his nerve endings lights up.
"I may be a Zenin by name," you breathe, leaning in until your tits smush into his chest and your lips brush his ear, "but I'll always be a Kamo by blood."
You bite down on the tender tissue, feeling him shudder beneath you, cock throbbing helplessly inside your cunt.
"Don't worry." You sit up, savoring his broken whine from the loss. "I'll let you cum, Nao-baby. I'm going to milk you dryâjust like you milked meâafter I get my nut."
You lift up just enough to meet his wild, glassy eyes.
"Nod if you understand."
Naoya nods. He understands perfectly nowâunderstands exactly how you wound up pregnant by Toji. Understands why a man like that couldn't stay away.
He sobs beneath your hold, tears spilling hot over your fingers, breath hitching against your palm. You clench, a methodical squeezeâand his whole body jerks violently, a broken "nnnghâ!" muffled against your hand.
You ride him in earnest now. Harder. Faster. Greedy for it. Your tits bounce wild, milk spilling with every slam of your hipsâtheyâre sore but you don't care, chasing your pleasure like nothing else matters. You're soaked, the sound of it obsceneâwet squelching filling the room, your arousal and milk splashing filthy with his pre where your bodies meet.
Naoyaâs cock hits that gushy, spongy spot inside you over and over and your rhythm starts to falter.
"F-Fuckâ"
You're getting sloppy. Losing focus. Your thighs burn from exertion but you can't stop, can't slow down, bouncing on his cock like you'll die yourself if you don't cum on it. Your pussy greedily convulsing around himâshit, you could easily fuck your own self stupid if you arenât careful.Â
You learned well enough not to underestimate Zenin dick fucking around with Toji.
Thankfully, however, Naoya is ruined. Flushed crimson from chest to ears beneath you, his tears streaming and his cock so engorged inside you that he looks like it must hurt. His hips spasm with aborted thrusts, toes curling as he is fighting his body's urge to rut even now.
Heâs still trying so hard to be a âgood boyâ for you and that thought alone almost makes you cum.
You consider, through the haze of your own pleasure, appraising his pathetic form beneath you, that you might accidentally give him a brain aneurysm if you keep this up much longer.
âP-PuuleaseâMommyâ he gasps out when you lift your hand from his lips.
"Wait your turn," you moan, brows furrowing as you try to concentrate. Â
You're close. So fucking close. You use him like a toy now, hips rolling carnally, chasing the tingling friction. building white-hot at the base of your spine. Your nails dig into his abs as you tilt, angling yourself so his girth scrapes against your g-spot with every bounce.Â
Quiet sobs tumble over your lips as you tense, fucking yourself on him untilâ
"O-ohâoh fuckfuckfuckâ"
You shatter, orgasm ripping through you, pussy fluttering wild around his length and gushing to coat his balls as you ride it out. Vision edges white, as your thighs quake, your hips rotating in stuttering circles as the waves crash through you.
Chest heaving, when you regain your senses again, Naoya is barely there himself, sanity hanging by a thread with eyes blownâwatching you cum so erotically on his cock like a man witnessing something holy.
You bring your face centimeters away from his, your lips ghosting his own as you release your technique.
"Cum."
And he does.
With a broken moan Naoya busts inside youâcock pulsing thick and hot, spurts of cum flooding your cunt white as his hips stutter up helplessly. You let him pull you down, let him clutch you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to earth as your lips smash together.
You seal your mouth over his, devouring every ragged cry. Your tongue sweeps sweetly against his trembling one as you steady his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his tear-damp cheeks, kissing him quiet.
All the while his cock continues to pump you fullâand youâve kept your promise.Â
This is the most Naoyaâs ever cum in his entire life.
When he comes down enough, Naoya rolls onto his side, taking you with him as he curls into youâface buried in your chest, sucking in breaths, completely undone and still twitching inside you.Â
A bit overspent yourself, not having activated your ability since Toji got you pregnant in the first place, you don't move yet. You keep him buried inside of you, pulsing with the aftershocks of what he just let himself become.
His arms wind tight around your waist like he's afraid you'll disappear. You cradle the back of his head, stroking softly.
He doesn't speak and you don't rush him. Not eager to test for any remaining snark you failed to fuck out of him.
It feels good just being needed like this, you are a mother afterall.
Eventually the heat between your thighs starts to cool, and you shiftâpeeling him off slowly, feeling the thick spill of his cum leak out of you. He shudders at the loss, an inaudible sound catching in his throat.
You ease him onto his back, robes rumpled beneath him, face still ruddy. He watches you through heavy-lidded eyesâquiet, stunned, like he doesn't recognize himself.
And thenâ
A single, involuntary whimper escapes him when his gaze catches on your breasts again.Â
Still heavy and still leakingâmilk beading at your nipples.
You smile.
"Still hungry?"
He turns his face into the pillow, ears burning.
You laughânot mocking this time. Your voice is warm, almost fond.
"Poor Nao-chan," you murmur, settling beside him as you reach for a baby wipe nearby. "Your first time letting someone take care of you, and now you don't know what to do with yourself."
"I didn't say I wantedâ"
You wipe his chest clean of milk, sweatâall of it with a tenderness that makes him forget what he was saying. Naoyaâs throat bobs as he goes silent.
Unhurried, you wipe yourself off next. Then once satisfied, looking over to confirm that Tomie is still sleeping peacefully, you secure the discarded blanket over you both, effectively tucking him in, before gathering him in your arms.
"You don't have to say it," you whisper against his hair. "Mommies always know."
Sure, you certainly aren't his mother.
Yet something in your heart still aches for the broken little boy inside Naoya all the same. His cruel upbringing was hardly his fault, although it's been everyone elseâs problem since.Â
Plus, you're fairly certain you just did more for his mommy issues in one night than years of therapy could ever achieveâeven if someone managed to drag Naoya there, against his will.
Sigmund Freud couldn't have even accomplished this. Someone should really give you a nobel peace prize.
You hum a low lullaby against his temple as Naoyaâs eyes close. He doesn't fight it. Between your soothing song, warmth and the exhaustion your technique left behind, he doesn't have the strength to fight youânor does he want to.
Naoyaâs lips are at your nipple again. He's not sucking this timeâjust holding you on his tongue, lavishing slow and kitten-soft licks, nursing you like a pacifier.
"You did well, Naoya."
It's the last thing he hears as sleep pulls him under.
âĄ
Hours later, Naoya wakes to the sound of your voice.
His eyes squint against the harsh morning light pouring into the room. As they adjust, he makes out your shapeâsitting on the edge of the futon, knees tucked beneath you, fully dressed, bouncing Tomie in one arm while you chat on the phone.
A dizziness hits him all at once. Naoya finds himself sluggish, bodily functions recalibrating as the effects of your technique linger.Â
He feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck.Â
A truck that happened to also fuck him stupid and then tucked him in after.
Grumpy, the loss of your warmth pulls a low growl from him.
Naoya hauls himself across the futon and plants his head in your lap, nuzzling into you like you owe him now.
You try to ignore him, continuing your conversation, but Naoya is persistent. His nose keeps traveling higherânudging toward the apex of your thighs and burying his face into your mound. The lingering musk of sex is still strong through your kimono and Naoya's cock stirs, already half-hard at the thought of tasting how well his seed has marinated inside you.
Naoya hums petulantly into your pussy, clearly territorial of whoever has your attention.
You roll your eyes at the display.Â
Give men an inch and they will always take a mile.Â
You threw him a crumb of affection and now he's acting starved for it.
Shifting your daughter to one arm and wedging the phone between your shoulder and cheek, you card your fingers through Naoya's hair. It's enough to soothe himâfor now. He sighs against your thigh, using your plush lap as a pillow, and drifts back toward sleep.
"Huh? Say that againâ" You grit, more irritated now at the man on the other line than the one in your lap. "Ugh, fine. I'll spot you this time, Toji."
Even half asleep, Naoya goes deathly still.
You smirk, feeling him tense in your lap as you continue to speak.
"But thatâs only on the condition you visit Tomie this weekend, you oaf. She'll forget your face if you keep this up, ya know."
A pause. Then snort.
"Hm? Oh yeah. Yup, uh-huh.â You smirk amused by whatever Toji's saying on the other line. "Yeah, yeah, Ji. I'll let him knowâand jeez, I got it, okayâŠI'll do the transfer now. GOODBYE."
You hang up with a huff, mildly annoyedâuntil you glance down and see your daughter happily cooing, her tiny hand patting Naoya's head alongside yours as you reluctantly transfer Toji the money he asked for.
Naoya, mortified, had been holding his breath this entire timeâjust in case Toji could sense it over the phoneâsighs in relief.
"Shit... that was close," he mumbles, wincing as your daughter's pats turn into enthusiastic slaps against his temple.Â
Toji-kun told him to take care of you, sure.Â
He's fairly certain this wasn't what he meant.
"Huh? Oh, you mean Toji?" You blink down at Naoya. "I already told him."
Naoya shoots upright like you just announced a curse had just blown up half of Tokyo.
"Relax, Naoya, my god." You wave a hand, dismissing him. "Toji's cool about it. We were never exclusive or anything, ya know."
Naoya exhales, exasperated, and flops onto the futon, on his back, his hand over his face as you rise shuffling elsewhere in the room.
He knows his cousinâthis won't be the end of it. Toji will definitely expect something in return.
But Naoya can't think about that now. His head is throbbing, it's early as hell, and he's gotten maybe two good hours of sleep.
He knows he should return to his own sleeping quartersâbut this is his wing after all and he honestly can't be arsed to move for anything right now.
"However," you add lightly, when you see Naoya's body bracing for blow, "he did say you have to bankroll a parlay for him every time you fuck his wife."
And there it is.
Naoya doesn't even lift the hand over his face, just grunts.
"Sure."
"Anddddd, he's charging you by the pint forâand I quoteâ'sucking up all his tiddy milk like a pansy lil b-i-t-c-h.'"
You spell out the word in lieu of saying it now that Tomie is awake.
Naoya groans, wishing he'd woken up earlier. He's not sure what kind of narrative you fed Toji, but he's too exhausted to argue about it now.Â
"...Fine." Naoya replies, wincing at your giggles prickling his skull.
Toji's money schemes don't matter much to him anywayâhe's rich, he can afford whatever bullshit âtiddy milk taxâ this is.
Naoya just needs you to shut up about it now.
Every chuckle out of your mouth drives another rusty nail into his skull.
"Oh, one last thing," you call over your shoulder, smirking as you scoop Tomie's diaper bag and head towards the bathroom to change her.
"Toji says if you get me knocked-up, youâre raising that one too."
You laugh hardly, leaving the room with Tomie happily cooing in your arms.
Whatever.
Naoya sighs, smashing two pillows over his face.Â
He'd just pull out next time.
Simple. Problem solved.Â
It's a small price to pay for your soft creamy tits and that sweet, gooey mommy pussâ
⥠hope u enjoyed! i hope to see a lot more recruits in the naoya army after this fic lol!
also i loved writing in tomie here. i didn't name toji's and your's baby in the previous one but i really like this name so i decided to use it. shes so sassy shes def gonna give noaya hell. hsjdfbvjshdbfvhsd. read my other naoya fic here
Status updates: Caracal!sukuna p4 (20% done), invisible man!gojo (35%), stepdaddy!nanami (60% done), nerd!geto p2 (45%), 69 choso fic (30%) [y'all remember caracal sukuna won the poll so freddy!sukuna and elevator will have to wait!] stepdaddy!nanami next
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A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.
An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father.Â
You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him.Â
âI am not asking for permission.â Satoru smiles, deathly calm. âSimply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.â
âBut- but young master! Itâs madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!â The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. âI cannot allow- a-and considering the madamâs lowly lineage-â
Schwing!
They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasnât anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasnât about to let that change anytime soon.Â
The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoruâs humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, âWhat did you say about my wife?â
The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, âI- it could- the scale of ah-â
âNo.â The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoruâs tutting, âTry again.â
âTh-the madam!â Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elderâs forced to echo his words. âIt is no lie that her b-background isâŠunsuitable-â
Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life heâd been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like heâd wanted, then none of this wouldâve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you?Â
Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. âDo you know why youâre here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?â And he doesnât wait for an answer - couldnât care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, âMy lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesnât like for me to get my hands dirty.â
He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder shouldâve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Shouldâve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, âS-see young master. I told- you-â
Because this was Gojo Satoru, and heâs chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. âSheâd make such a perfect mother, donât you think?â
---
SLAM!
You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.
Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-
Oh. Oh shit.Â
Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like heâd seen a ghost.Â
What the fuck happened?
âSatoru?â you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like heâd finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, âAre you o-â
Youâve barely made it two steps before Satoruâs closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!
You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesnât show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than youâve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.
And itâs times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet.Â
Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, âAre you okay, Toru?â
And oh.Â
Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoruâs entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. âAn heir.â Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, âWould you give me an heir, my wife?â
You werenât making it out alive.Â
Youâre gasping - partially because of his words, partially because thatâs all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. âWha- an heir?â
Itâs not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where youâd mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didnât expect him to even have heard the question let alone this.Â
Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, âAn heir. You think Iâd ever deny you, pretty?â Like he couldnât believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, âMy heir.â
Itâs like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, âNâ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.â
And for the second time today, youâre actually registering that this wasnât the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.
âSatoruâŠâ You pull his face back.
âNo- no no please- Come back-â you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. âWas jusâ one I swear- mâsorry about gettinâ the fabric dirty.â
âSatoru.â
âWasnât gonna break you where everyone could hear right?âÂ
And fuck he doesnât wait to hear a response, no - itâs been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoruâs body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy.Â
âSa-toru!â you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane.Â
âShhh shhh, mâhere mâhere.â he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. âFuck- mâhere.â Heâs licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, âNâ mâgonna ruin-â One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, â-her.â
But, alas, no matter how many times Satoruâs done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him.Â
With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless.Â
Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. âMmm- â Pulling back just enough to mutter, âGonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?âÂ
Itâs all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe.Â
âIs my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?â He gasps out, strangled. âAn heir?â He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. âOne to take out all these dumb fucks?â Again, so dizzyingly. And again. âOh how Iâd love to see their fuckinâ faces.â And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - âAn heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.â
And then your yukataâs being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.
âOh, look at you.â his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. âFuck- the mother of my kids.â He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, âI need to- fuck!âÂ
Before you know it heâs pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs.Â
You whine at the feeling of Satoruâs thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.
But he could barely hear - fuck, you didnât even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.
âNeed to fill these up- sâgonna be so sweet. So full.â heâs blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. âI can only hope they hah- share, right?â
You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoruâs leg. âP-please, Toru. Donât tease.â
And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids.Â
With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey.Â
âAnd this-â Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, âOh this. Gonna be so round nâ pretty. Absolutely glowing fâme, right? Fuck!âÂ
Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin.Â
âOh.â he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, âYou can kill me if youâre not with my heir by the time weâre done, pretty.â
A promise.
And with it went whatever was left of Satoruâs poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive.Â
Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt.Â
âOh god- There we go.â he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, âBetter wish her good luck tonight.â
And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, itâs a wonder he doesnât get whiplash with how fast heâs pushing his face into your pussy.
âMm-â Satoruâs eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. âFuck that. Even luck wonât save you from me- hah-â
âToru!â you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. âHngh- sâtoo-â
He was going too fast too soon.Â
You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. âNow now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya canât even handle this, pretty?â
Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. âFuck. Shouldnât have told me about an heir.â heâs murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. âFuuuck you shouldnât h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.â, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. âFuck- just look at you. Youâre so wet I could fuck you just like this.â
As if to prove his point, heâs urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily.Â
Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoruâs eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-
âOhh. Squeezing me so fuckinâ tight.â His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. âYa like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?â
Your embarrassed little whine isnât enough of an answer for your husband. No, heâs pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out.Â
Making out with your cunt so sloppily, âThaâs more like it.â Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. âFuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.â Satoruâs fucking into your sloppy hole the way heâs been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. âAfter all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?â
Faster. Sloppier.Â
Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, âYes! Please- wanâ- nghâ Thighs squeezing around Satoruâs fervent head, âW-wan you to jusâ breed me, Toru-â
Oh.
Fuck, you mightâve just signed your will away at this point.Â
Because in a split-second, youâre cumming.Â
Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoruâs hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high.Â
And heâs more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him.Â
But itâs not long before Satoruâs pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you.Â
Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether youâd be on it, too.Â
âHeh, kill count?â Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? âFunny, real funny.â And with that, heâs thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. âWonder if our- hah- kidâs gonna have your-â Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, â-humor?â
And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but.Â
Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers.Â
âY-youâre so mean-â
âAnd yer killinâ me- ohhh youâre gonna be the death of me.â he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, âFuck-â
You canât help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoruâs blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting.Â
Before you even know whatâs happening, heâs circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. âCan only pray mânot dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.â
Itâs like something breaks. And Satoruâs remembering that no, this isnât just any child - itâs the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips.Â
âOh! Toru- f-fuck wait sâtoo big-â you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. âItâs ah-â
âNo.â he spits into your sagging mouth. âNo no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.â Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. âFuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!â
And you canât do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea.Â
Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoruâs massive cock was enough to have you running away.Â
Youâd barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoruâs dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock.Â
âNeed this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.â he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. âNeed to breed this cunt so bad.â
Some tiny, useless part of Satoruâs rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldnât stop.Â
So heâs simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is.Â
Satoru hisses at the way youâre so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. âThink I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.â Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. âCanât- canât stop-â
The change in angle makes you scream out Satoruâs name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally.Â
Fuck, you werenât making it out alive.
âOh.â he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he couldâve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already.Â
âOh- oh my god-â you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. âYouâre in s-so deep ngh- Sâlike youâre pushing into my ngh- lungs.â
Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, heâs feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.
Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way heâs been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting.Â
And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock.Â
â-nâ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. Nâ when I was at that meeting-â he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. âSâall I could hah- think of. Everything - donât give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.â
Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.
So merciless - violent even - with the way heâs slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace.Â
A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoruâs thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. âToru-â you moan, like a prayer. âM-more.â
But it wasnât enough.
âMore.â Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, âYou want more?â
And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless.Â
Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more.Â
âFuck!â your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoruâs hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like heâd lost control. âO-oh please, Toru-â
He doesnât waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-
âAw, my poor girl.â you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, âSâalright. Mâgonna take care of it. You jusâ hafta take it- jusâ take it like the good lilâ wife you are.â his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. âNâ Iâll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.â So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. âIâll wash âem and hah- clothe âem nâ t-teach âem to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.â
âT-Toru-â you squeal as he only gets more erratic. âIâmâŠâ
âHm?â
He didnât even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name.Â
His perfect wife.Â
Sobbing out, âClose! So close. Wanâ cum- Ah! Please-â
He was losing his fucking mind.Â
Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, âThen cum. Fucking cum. Please- wanâ you to cum on my cock.â Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, âCum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.â
Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it.Â
Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he canât help but cum, too.Â
You donât know whoâs more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high.Â
Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt.Â
âSo muchhh.â you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. âSâtoo much.â
And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldnât stop. Didnât want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base.Â
âToo much?â Satoru hisses. âToo much?â
You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesnât ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard.Â
âThere we hah- go. Better now?â The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoruâs cock - even down to his thighs. âNow we got fuck- more space.â
You donât even realize youâre scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, âNo no no- weâre not done, pretty. Fuckkk weâre far from done.â Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. âGotta make sure it takes. Why else dâyou think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?â
He doesnât wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again.Â
A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. âSo that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.â Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. âT-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. Theyâll be the most powerful- hah- jusâ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.â
So debauched and fucked-out that you donât even know what heâs running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily.Â
âDonât know?â
Fuck. You said it out loud again.Â
And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you.Â
Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.
âSâalright, pretty.â he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. âBecause you just have to sit there nâ ngh- take- it.â
If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now.Â
Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid.Â
âAh!â youâre startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoruâs heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. âT-ToruâŠyou- ngh- o-okay?â
The only response you get is an unsteady nod.Â
â-the best.â he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. âWeâll be the best parents- ngh-â And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.
Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before heâs seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white.Â
So warm with his cum - him - that Satoruâs body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. âCâmon, pretty, c-canât get ngh pregnant if ya donât oh- cum.â
And itâs so embarrassing how thatââs all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoruâs.Â
âSatoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.â you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say.Â
Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.
And, evidently, Satoru was, too.Â
âPrettyâŠâ his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didnât bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. âAre- sure- ngh-âÂ
And with a jolt, you realize heâs still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him.Â
If anyone saw Satoru like this, theyâd have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, âAre we- hah- sure it took?â
âWh-what-â you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. âYes- yes yes- oh my god itâwonât-â
âIt will.â Satoruâs interruption almost comes out as a whine. And heâs more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. âTh-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?â
Itâs almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.
But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldnât tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, âRight? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-â
Heâs darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoruâs hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. âGonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?â
Youâre using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoruâs fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit.Â
Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off.Â
And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But heâs finally cumming again, and so are you.Â
âNgh- Fuck-â
With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. âToru- c-cumming.â
Youâre not sure, anymore. And you donât know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.Â
â-the best- momma.â
A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the âcanât get pregnant without the momma cummingâ bit was based on this old tale Iâd heard where people used to gen believe that.Â
Synopsis: the party was supposed to be wild and crazy, so you could let loose and have fun, but it wasn't supposed to be so wild and crazy that you don't even remember what happened last Friday night. and definitely not so wild and crazy that you wake up a) with a killer headache, b) in someone else's bed, and c) cuffed to twins?!
now the three of you have to go on a wild goose chase for the person who did this, whilst fighting the insane sexual chemistry vibrating between you and the twins.
what could go wrong?
Warnings: porn with a side of plot, nerdjo and fratjo twins au - twincest (I don't view it as such and that's certainly not what this contains in my opinion but just as a warning so the puritans can back off), threesome/sharing reader, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hidden sex, the twins are annoying af and have asshole tendencies, both are pierced in different ways, college au/non curse au, too much dirty talk, unprotected sex because it's fiction and it's hot, spit roasting, thigh humping, zipper humping, thigh job, spitting, brief rimming, deepthroating, cunnilingus, pervy behaviour, a little masochism and sadism, choking?/asphyxiation, fanart by @smokeigheh on Insta, not proofread - please let me know if you spot typos or inconsistencies (this is too long for me to care about proofreading)
Word Count: 14k
âHey, Sato?â
âHmm?â
âAm I still dreaming or is there a girlâs ass pressed to my woody?â
âUnless weâre sharing the same dream, Iâm ninety-nine percent sure itâs not one â sheâs drooling on my chest.â
âIs she hot?â
âDonât be a creepâŠâ
A pregnant pause passes, then he adds, âYeah.â
âNice.â
Groaning, your bleary eyes open. Your head is swimming. The pain is dull but powerful, as though hidden behind a layer, angry and wanting to be let out. Bright light through a window almost blinds you. You groan again, burying your head in a hard wall.Â
Huh?
Your eyes shoot open. Youâre laying on someoneâs chest. You look up. Dazzling blue eyes stare down at you through a pair of glasses, a brow cocked up. Then you feel it â something hot and heavy slotted between your asscheeks, and a hand gripping your hip.Â
With a scream, you jolt up, scrambling to get off the bed, only to fall right back onto the mattress when resistance meets your arms.Â
Two faces fill your vision from above.Â
Same dazzling blue eyes.Â
One smirking.
One not.Â
Both near-mirror copies of the other.Â
You scream again.
They wince.Â
âC-clones! Youâre clones! Oh my god, please donât probe me.â
The one on your left laughs so loudly it becomes your turn to wince. âDude! She thinks weâre aliens!â
The other sighs and adjusts his glasses. âWeâre not aliens. Weâre twins. Monozygotic. Monoamniotic-Monoamniotic, to be exact.â
Lightly shoving the other by the shoulder, one of them says, âJeez, donât get all sciency around a chick. Just say âMoMoâ, like Iâve been saying.â He turns to you, smiling. âWeâre identical twins â Iâm Toru, a Marketing student, and this ugly freak is Sato. Engineering. Weâre both third years. And you are?â
Why are they acting so casual?
Theyâre in bed with a complete stranger, who could be a serial killer, and yet theyâre introducing themselves to you like nothingâs remotely odd about the situation. Or maybe youâre in bed with serial killers. Hot serial killers, but thatâs how they get you.
Unnerved by their matching stares, you stammer out your name, followed by a, âIâm an Anthropology student. Second year. Itâs a pleasure to meet you?â
The sentence comes out less a statement and more a question, and you grimace at your unsocial self.
Toru leans forward, grinning. âYouâre so polite. How adorable. Makes me wanna just gobble you up.â He mimics the actions of munching on your face, nom noming.Â
His twin sighs again and lifts his hand up. Yours is brought up with it. All of you eye the thing that clanks and jingles with the movement. Sato drawls, âInstead of flirting with her, why donât we address the elephant in the room â why the hell are we cuffed together and in his bed?â
Thatâs when you finally realise youâre not in your own dorm. The roomâs much bigger, much more lived in and homely. Heck, the bed itself is bigger than the stiff single that the school provides everyone. Comfier, too. And with someoneâs abs plastered all over the covers.
Posters of sporting legends litter the walls, as do posters of rock bands and carelessly stuck on polaroids of one of the twins, or both of them, or people you can only assume to be their friends.Â
It even smells differently here than in your room; whilst yours smells of academic pressures and manically drunk coffee, this one smells of leftover thrill and aftershave. Clothes litter the floor, bordered by empty beer cans, and a pair of red lacey panties in the corner.Â
Toru follows your eyes to it, and then hastily clarifies, âItâs not mine â I donât crossdress or anything.â
Sato rolls his eyes, and snarks, âShe knows that, idiot. Sheâs thinking what a pigsty your room is.â Glancing at you, he adds, âMy dumbass brotherâs incapable of cleaning up after himself. Judge him freely, he deserves it.â
Ignoring both of them, you lift your arms up, struggling with the new weight and gawk at the pink fuzzy cuffs adorning your wrists. Slowly, you say, âWhatâŠtheâŠactualâŠfuck?â
Youâre handcuffed to two strangers.Â
Two hot strangers who keep womenâs underwear in their rooms.
Frantically, you glance down at yourself and release a relieved breath when you confirm that youâre fully dressed in what you remember coming to the party in the first place: a short skirt you borrowed from a friend, a nice top, and beat up Converse that you wouldnât mind getting beer spilled on. Your phoneâs in your skirt pocket, along with your keycard. So all the valuables you brought to your friendâs apartment are still with you. Nothing feels out of place, which you thank god profusely for.Â
But what happened after the round of pres at your friend?Â
âI donât remember a single thing that happened last night,â you voice aloud, frowning. âI donât remember why weâre cuffed together, or who you two are to me.â
Not a single thing comes to mind â what you drank, who you spoke to, how much you drank, if you did anything crazy, if you lost some kind of dare and had to face punishment by being bound to two guys, and where your friends are.
Sato knits his brows together. âNeither. I only remember helping set up.â
âI donât remember anything either,â his brother says, attempting to scratch the back of his head with the hand thatâs connected to yours, laughing at himself, then finally using his free hand. He shrugs. âBut then again, thatâs not unusual for me. The best parties are the ones you donât remember.â
You want to question how that could be possible, but you keep your mouth shut.Â
âAnyone feel a key on them?â one of the twins asks, inspecting the holes of the cuffs that bind you to him. He looks displeased at the fuzziness of the thing. Your hand hangs limply in the air.
All three of you look, lifting covers, checking inside your clothes, on the desk, under pillows, and nothing.Â
âNope!â
âNo.â
âI donât see anything.â
Your heart begins to race, reality sinking in hard and fast and intensifying your headache. âWeâre done for. Weâre stuck like this forever. Weâre going to die like this!â
âCalm down,â Sato deadpans, totally judging you based on how he fights the urge to look you over the rim of his glasses. âWeâre not going to die. We just need to figure out who did it to us, where they are, and if they have the key â worse comes to worse, we donât find them or they donât have the key, we can just go to the fire station and ask them to cut us out.â
Toru whoops in the hair and ruffles his brotherâs hair. The brother in question scowls and shoves the hand away. âNice one, big bro. Didnât even think of that; I was on the âweâre doomedâ boat.â
That makes sense.Â
Yeah, thereâs no need to panic.Â
Except, thereâs a major issue.
âGuys,â you start, lip trembling, â...I really need to pee.â
The two of them look at each other, then at you, then at the door, then back at each other.Â
âC-can you hold it?â Toru asks, sounding more frightened about the idea than you.
You shake your head, legs crossed.
And thatâs how you find yourself sitting on the toilet in his en-suite bathroom, flanked by two guys, who at least have the decency to look away. One of them whistles awkwardly, and the other taps on his phone.Â
This is a nightmare. You donât want to be pissing with an audience, especially not this close. Itâs way too embarrassing.Â
Sato clicks his tongue, pink tinting the tips of his ears. âWhy arenât you going?â
ââcause itâs weird,â you mutter, shuffling on the seat. The toiletâs kept pretty clean. It looks practically unused, which just makes you feel worse about defiling it.
âYou having performance anxiety, Second year?â Toru teases, rocking on the balls of his feet.
He doesnât need to sound so amused by the idea, you dryly think. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you grumble, âAnyone would if they were in my position.â
âI wouldnât,â Toru chirps, swinging the hands you two are joint at back and forth absentmindedly. âHell, Iâll pee between your legs right now to prove it. Iâve got pretty good aim.â
âPlease donât.â
God, this is the most shameful thing thatâs ever happened to you. What did you do to deserve this?
Left with no choice, you let the stream go and grit your teeth.Â
One of them hums approvingly. âSolid stream â bitches with good pussy piss loud as fuck, and it do be sounding like youâre frying chicken.â
Your jaw drops. Aghast, you shake your wrist and smack his own hand against his leg. âCan you not comment on my pee, Toru?â
His twin smacks him upside the head. âDonât call women bitches.â
He groans. âDoes no one get the reference? Ugh, whatever. Just hurry up and wipe. I need to pee too.â
âOh no.â
Both of your hands are connected to theirs⊠One of themâs going to have to get between your legs. When you look up at their suddenly stiff backs, you know they realised it too.Â
Toru whistles low. âWhoâs it gonna be, Second Year?â
âWhy do I have to choose?â you ask, though you already know the answer. Theyâre basically asking you who youâre more comfortable with, and oddly, you donât want to offend either of them. Is this your Sophieâs Choice?
Sato continues tapping away on his phone one-handedly. âEither one of us is fine to do it. It all depends on who youâd prefer â itâs not like weâre actually wiping for you.â
If you really had to choose, thenâŠ
Wriggling a specific hand, you shamefully mutter, âCan you do it with me?â
He sighs, and slacks his arm so you can pull your hand towards yourself. The twin has to bend down at the knee slightly, still looking away. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat.Â
Through the whole thing, youâre cringing, cheeks flushed, and wanting the world to open up and consume you whole. Can this morning get worse?Â
âDone,â you mumble, making sure no oneâs looking at you. âThanks.â
âDonât mention it,â Sato mutters.Â
On the other side, Toru grumbles so depressedly you can practically see a raincloud storming over his head, âWhy didnât you choose me? Iâd be a good pussy wiper.â
More rises to your cheeks. You hurriedly pull your pants back up and flush. âNo one was asking to wipe anyoneâsâŠahem. And the fact that youâre so eager is kinda the reason why I didnât choose you.â
Toru raises his hands, and one of yours, in surrender.Â
After you, they both take turns peeing. You look away, shutting your eyes tight for good measure. You even hum under your breath to distract from the sounds. Sato, you notice, clears his throat before he goes, whereas Toru mumbles some song lyrics. It sounds like Up by Cardi B.Â
You hate that youâre hyper aware of every shuffle, every brush against you, every time their knuckles graze yours, and each breath they take.
The twins are hot.
Have you said that already?
Because they are.Â
Maybe if they were uglier, more normal looking, you wouldnât be so on edge.
And you know itâs wrong to think like that about strangers, but they are hot. Stupidly so.Â
Theyâre the same height, with sharp jawlines and identical signet rings glinting on their pinkies. Theyâre definitely identical twins, but they look so different from each other, that with or without the glasses, youâd know who was who. Anyone would.Â
Toru wears a white T-shirt with an arrow pointing upward and downwards ,and the words âBest Seats in the Houseâ printed beneath it, whilst Sato has on glasses and a blue T-shirt layered over a grey long-sleeve, the front patterned with chemical symbols spelling out MoAN.
Toru is broader, his biceps visibly defined beneath the cotton, muscle pressing against the sleeves. The underside of his hair at the back is buzzed. He has a brow piercing. Sato, by contrast, is leaner, his frame slimmer and his hair longer and more shaggy. Heâs still quite muscular in comparison to the Engineering students youâve seen, which isnât a fair comparison because most of the STEM guys youâve met look like the stereotype. No offence to them.
Toru wears ripped light wash jeans that hang low on his hips, revealing a Calvin Klein band, and Satoâs the same except his are darker blue. Both jeans hug their asses perfâ
No, bad.
Stop noticing things about them.Â
After you get out of the cuffs, youâre never going to see them again, and itâll be like this never happened. Donât get attached. Donât get too involved. Find the keys and skedaddle!Â
The three of you wash your hands, taking turns to brush your teeth and wash your face, all awkwardly trying to shuffle with each other. Itâs clumsy at first but you do eventually get a rhythm going.Â
Eventually, you walk back out into the messy room, fresher and cleaner.
âWe need to figure out what happened,â Sato states, brows furrowed. âIf we got cuffed together during last nightâs party, thereâs a chance the keyâs hanging around the frat house. We should look for it, jog our memories and retrace our steps.â
Toru scratches his stomach, revealing a flash of a white happy trail. His brother catches you looking. He cocks a brow. You snatch your gaze away. Toru says, âWe wonât need to do all that â I think I know who did this to us.â
âWho?â you ask, louder than you intended.
He answers, grimacing, âA friend of ours. Sukuna. Well, friendâs a loose term. Weâre frenemies, I guess. Heâs funny, but heâs not the nicest guy around.âÂ
Itâs a vaguely familiar name, but you know youâve never met a Sukuna before. By the sound of Sato cursing, you get the impression that itâs not the name of a man who youâd be happy to find out has cuffed you to a stranger. And that makes you all the more desperate to get out of the way of whatever rivalry they have going on.Â
âItâs a prank he likes to pull. He did it to Choso and a lamppost because the guy was giving family weed away for free to some girl, and thatâs his literal cousin,â Toru explains. âIf we gotta look anywhere, I think we should look at him.â
Smiling, you say, âThatâs great! We have a solid plan.â
Sato glances down at you, not looking anywhere near as happy. Adjusting his glasses, he warns, âSukunaâs an asshole. Heâs not gonna be easy to get a hold of. Not to mention, if he did this to us, he must think weâve done something wrong in his eyes, so heâll be extra annoying.â
Much more cheerful in comparison, Toru throws an arm around his twin. âNow now, big bro. Thatâs not the spirit.â
They both look at you; one with a wide grin and the other with a deadpan expression.Â
âWeâve got an adventure to go on â letâs have some fun.â
.
.
.
âWait, youâre members of a frat?â you ask, marvelling at the two of them.Â
What theyâd said earlier only registered now, as youâre walking through campus, and now that you think about it, it explains why Toru has a room in the frat house in the first place.
Campus isnât as busy as it usually is on the weekdays, which is good because it minimises the number of gawking youâre getting. Guess seeing three people cuffed together isnât a very common occurrence, even in university.Â
The three of you had decided to track down this Sukuna. Sato looked up something online and informed you that the wanted manâs a hockey player, and the team has practice right now, in preparation for tonightâs game. So you raced out of the thoroughly trashed frat house as soon as you could, wanting to make sure you could catch him, corner him, shake the key out of him all before noon. And before his whereabouts become unknown.
Toru shakes his head, and ruffles your hair. Heâs quickly gotten quite familiar with you, not that you mind. âNah, little lady. Only I am. Frat prez, actually,â he says, nodding proudly. âMy brother here just comes along âcause heâs a party animal.â
Sato fixes him with a blank look. âIâm not a party animal. I attend these things because someone has to keep you out of trouble.â
Mischievously, Toru leans down to whisper in your ear, âHeâs lying; heâs worse than me.â Then, he thinks for a second. âYouâre not a frequent party goer, are you? I would have definitely seen you around before if you were.â
âNo,â you admit. âIâm not a party person. I just went last night because my friends insisted I go to at least one party this year, and after this, I donât think Iâll be going to another one any time soon.â
Cuffs aside, the hangover you have is no joke and itâs enough to put you off partying forever.Â
Toru petulantly whines. âNo way! Donât let this one weird experience give you a bad impression â my parties are legendary. You have to come again. I insist; I want to see you all drunk and stupid, and remember it.â
âDonât peer pressure her,â Sato scolds before addressing you. âYou should come over though. Party or no party. Weâd definitely like to see you more. We can show you a good time.â
Their joint invite has your cheeks heating up. They just met you and theyâve already decided you were someone theyâd want to hang out with again, and yeah, maybe they were just being nice, but it still had you all flustered. Especially because there seemed to be some hidden layer to the words âgood timeâ; both of their eyes twinkled.Â
Or maybe you imagined it.
On the way, about a thousand people stop to say hi to both Toru and Sato. The twins are clearly popular.Â
It isnât subtle, either. Itâs not the polite nod-in-passing kind of recognition. People actually light up when they see them. Hands clap shoulders. Someone daps Toru up mid-stride. A girl across the quad calls Satoâs name flirtatiously. One even flashes both twins. Toru laughs. Even professors in suits, holding briefcases pause to exchange some words and inside jokes.
Toru grins wide and effortless, tossing out nicknames, bumping fists, slinging an arm around whoever gets close enough. Sato is smoother about it â a smaller smile, a tilt of his head, a few clever words that make people laugh just a second longer than necessary.Â
No one even does more than glance at you. To their friends, youâre just another girl theyâre in some dramatic predicament with.Â
Between them, overshadowed by their popularity and fame, you feel out of your element. Theyâre definitely not the kind of people you could just casually befriend, not the kind of guys you would have ever spoken to, could have joined them casually for lunch, or schedule hang outs and know theyâll be there.
Theyâre just being polite to you, wanting to ease the discomfort of being cuffed to a complete stranger.Â
Eventually, you reach the rink. You follow them inside, down hallways, past the people working there. You peek through the double doors and see a bunch of guys skating in full gear. Itâs loud in the rink, the shape and emptiness of the stands reverberating the shouts and scrapes of skates on ice.
âLetâs go to the locker room whilst theyâre there; we can go through his locker and his bag,â Sato suggests.Â
The locker room?
Where men get changed and swing their dicks around?
Oh hell no.
âWaitâ hold on.â You stop short so abruptly they nearly walk into you. Both of them turn, brows lifting in sync. You scramble for composure, heat creeping up your neck. âI donât think thatâs a good idea.â
Toru squints. âWhy not?â
Because I value my eyesight. Because I donât need trauma today. Because I enjoy not being arrested.
You cross your arms, attempting dignity. âI canât just walk into the menâs locker room.â They stare. You gesture vaguely, mortified. âIâm a girl?â
It comes out half question, half plea, like perhaps theyâve temporarily forgotten this extremely relevant detail.
Sato blinks. Toru looks down at you, then back at Sato.
âOh,â Toru says slowly.
âYes, oh,â you mutter.
The twins share a look.
Hands grip your wrists, dragging you inside despite your protests. They snicker together. Youâre powerless against their strength, and you canât even grip the doorway to pull yourself away because theyâve got control of your hands. Eyes shut tightly, you fumble in the dark, unable to resist their heavy, six foot tall bodies.Â
Mustiness hits you as soon as the doors open, and you find your nose scrunching in disgust. Â
One of them laughs. âNo oneâs here, Second Year. Youâre good to open those pretty eyes.â
You swallow the nervous giggle down. Focus!
Eyes hesitantly open.Â
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh and unforgiving, illuminating long wooden benches scarred with skate marks and initials carved onto the surface. Open cubbies gape, stuffed to the brim with shoulder pads the size of riot shields, sweat-darkened jerseys, laces tangled in knots, and rolls of white athletic tape unraveling on the floor.
The placeâs a lawsuit waiting to happen.
The air is thick â damp cotton, metal, cheap body spray failing miserably to mask the sour, unmistakable musk of hours spent skating in full gear. Youâre careful not to touch anything unnecessary, lest you catch something.
âIâll call his phone,â one of the twins says.
Ringing echoes through the empty locker room, bouncing against the metal benches and cubbies, and dirty towels and clothes haphazardly strewn around. God, men are disgusting.Â
âThird row down,â the other twin mutters, following the sound.
Your Converse nearly land on a discarded compression shirt, and you jerk back like it might bite. You pass a rack of hockey sticks propped in the corner, tape chewed to shreds at the blades. A laundry bin overflows with damp towels. Someoneâs half-empty protein shaker sits uncapped, abandoned, something beige and unidentifiable clinging to the sides.
âFound it,â the other twin says.
The phone vibrates inside an open locker wedged between a pair of shin guards and a crumpled practice jersey. His name is stitched above the number hanging on the hook â red fabric, white lettering, unmistakable.
You hover stiffly behind them, crossing your arms as though that will somehow shield you from the environment.
âSee? No naked men swinging anything around,â Toru teases, swaying his hips at you.
âShut up,â you groan, cheeks hot despite yourself. âThis still feels wrong.â
Sato says, âYou overthink too much.â
Itâs not overthinking, you want to tell him. Itâs the plain truth. The girlsâ lockers are clean, tidy, and smell much nicer. Here, it feels humid, like youâve strolled into Satanâs asshole. Itâs fine for twins because they probably donât know how good they could have it on the other side of things, and itâs not like anyone would bat an eye if the hockey team came back and they found them here.
Toru picks up a pair of boxers, making his brows dance at you, then throws it at his brotherâs face.
He releases a disgusted sound, swiping it away. âHilarious.â
Theyâre both looking. One in the locker, and the other in the bag he pulled out. As they do that, you ask Sato, âSo youâre older?â
The twin with glasses nods. âBy two minutes â best two minutes of my life.â
Toru says, âHa. Ha. We both know the best two minutes of your life are when some poor girl lets you hit.â
âBetter than your thirty second record.â
You laugh at their petty sibling rivalry. You admire how easily they could talk to each other, and to you, in spite of your situation, of how absurd this all is. Itâs a thing to envy, you think.Â
Pulling his head out of the musty locker, Toru looks down at you with a challenging smile. âYou laughing at me, gorgeous? You think I canât last longer than thirty seconds?â
Emboldened by the friendly atmosphere, you reply, âProofâs in the pudding, isnât it? If thatâs your reputation, Iâm sure thereâs some truth to it.â
âOh yeah?â He tugs, yanking you to his chest suddenly with the arm connected to yours. Hands steady your hips. Forcing your head to crane back to peer up at him, Toru grins down at you wolfishly, using his height advantage to intimidate you. âCare to let me prove you wrong?â
âI-I was just kidding,â you stammer out. âWe need to focus and find the key.â
âI looked; couldnât find it. Knowing how dedicated Sukuna is, heâs probably got it on him,â he responds, much more interested in something else now.
You gulp.
Heat covers your back. When fingers pinch your chin, keeping you from looking back, you realise the hands on your hips arenât Toruâs. Theyâre Satoâs.Â
Theyâve got you sandwiched between them, leaving you with nowhere to go. Out of nowhere, the air has turned even more heated, almost suffocating. It renders you dizzy.
Sato whispers in your ear, lips grazing your ear, âDonât be rude, Anthro. You told him âproofâs in the pudding,â no? You gonna upset my baby brother by turning back on your words?â
The brother in questionâs bending down slowly, teasing you by not quite touching your lips. Meanwhile, someoneâs nose is running down the length of your neck, sending your hairs standing on edge.Â
What the hell is happening?
Why are firm hands gripping you, lips brushing your skin, eyes watching your every move, hard bodies squeezing you till youâre panting? And why are you not stopping them? Why are you tingling between your legs?
Noises come from outside.
You all still.
They curse under their breath, scrambling off into the showers.Â
At the furthest stall, you hide, eyes wide and a hand pressing down on your own over your mouth. Thunderous feet march in. A ruckus enters. The hockey teamâs finished with their practice, and you could be caught at any second. Imagine the scandal if they found you between two guys.
Voices bounce off tile and metal lockers, loud and unfiltered.
âBro, you call that a shot? My grandma could block that.â
âShut up, you whiffed the puck twice.â
âSuck my balls, Rogers.â
âGladly, Barnes.â
A bag hits the floor with a heavy thud. Lockers clang open in sharp succession. The sharp scent of sweat and ice drifts through the humid air.
âWho forgot to wash their jersey? It smells like death in here.â
âPretty sure thatâs just you.â
Laughter erupts â loud, careless, echoing. Someone yelps when a towel snaps against skin.
You squeeze your eyes shut as sneakers squeak across tile, as jerseys are peeled off and tossed aside, as the easy, post-practice chaos unfolds only a few feet away. Theyâre too close. Way too close.
Oh god, theyâre all probably butt naked just metres away from you.Â
How did things manage to go from bad to worse?
âDonât make a sound,â Toru whispers, panicked. âThe hockey guys cannot catch us here; theyâre still mad from the time when we filled up their lockers with shaving cream and glitter, which they need to get over. Itâs been days.â
âPretty sure itâs because weâve taken quite a few of their girlfriends,â Sato says under his breath.Â
âItâs not even âtakingâ when they seek us out. Like anyone would say no to puck bunny pussy.â
âYouâre both fucking disgusting,â you hiss. Theyâre just as sleazy as any guy on campus, itâd seem. The only difference is that they hide behind their handsome faces.Â
Youâre leaning on Toru as he presses himself tightly against the tiles, ducking down so they wonât spot his white hair from above the stall, all while Satoâs leaning on you, pushing in so his back wonât protrude.Â
Packed like sardines, youâre aware of their hard muscles, of their much bigger sizes, and the ridges of their abs. The frat president can probably feel your tits on him, whilst the Engineering student can feel your ass on his crotch. Something hard pokes your stomach at the same time as something equally hard and hot slot right in between your ass cheeks again.
Lord, take me now, you pray, desperate for relief from the humiliation.
A leg slots between yours. You gasp. Itâs Toruâs, but one look at his face and anyone would think youâre just imagining it. Donât move, you tell yourself. Do not start riding his thigh even if you want to.
Sato pushes his hips forward, and consequently yours. You gasp.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â he asks, voice husky in your ear. âGot an itch you wanna scratch?â
Toru flexes his thigh, bumping hard against your clothed slit. You bite back your moan, wholly aware of the boyish laughter and shouting on the other side. He says, âIf you gotta scratch, you gotta scratch, right?âÂ
They definitely know what theyâre doing. Manwhores like them always know.
Laying it on thicker, the frat president whispers, âDonât hesitate; use me. Go on, Second year. Make my day.â
The twins are urging you to ride his thigh, pushing and pulling. Neither of them care about getting caught, not really. You had initially thought Toru would be the biggest danger, what with his outgoing and flirtatious personality, but Satoâs just as bad as him; heâs guiding your hips with his own, hand sliding up your leg to creep under your skirt.
Theyâre twins from hell.Â
Someone flicks your nipples through your shirt. You slump back onto Satoâs chest, breathing heavily as your hips grind on a muscular thigh.Â
How did things come to this?
And why are you getting swept up in all of it?
âSheâs so pretty, isnât she, Sato?âÂ
âStunning,â he replies. His hand tugs you down, making sure youâre grinding real good on his brotherâs thigh. âHow does her pussy feel?â
âWarm, and getting wetter. Fuck, itâd be so much better if she wasnât wearing panties.â He directs his words to you, muttering, âHow about it, angel? Gonna let me feel your pussy?â
âThereâs people,â you gasp out, growing closer and closer to your end. This is so degrading â theyâre watching you ride his thigh all on your own, watching you thrust your chest out, and squirm between them like some whore.
One of them smirks. âSo if there werenât people, youâd readily give me access? Dirty girl. Isnât she dirty, Sato?â
âDownright filthy.â
When you shudder, someone slaps a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your moan. Oh fuck youâre cumming on Toruâs thigh, a man you only met this morning, riding the muscle like itâs your pillow. Tomorrow, when youâre hopefully free and no longer attached to them, youâre totally going to want to never see them again.
Finally, you flop, twitching with the final waves of your orgasm.Â
Your headâs patted. âWell done. You were very brave.â
You smack it away, and grouch, âThat was underhanded, you guys.â
âYou enjoyed it, Anthro,â Sato points out, and steps back, steadying you. He peers over, and nods. âCoastâs clear. But that means Sukunaâs gone.â
Simultaneously, your eyes land on the wet spot you left behind on Toruâs jeans. He presses down on it, then sucks the pads of his fingers, winking at you. You look away immediately, wanting to cringe at yourself. Voice shaky, whether from stress or from your orgasm, you wonder, âSo what are we gonna do now?â
âWeâll have to ask around for where heâll be,â Sato replies. âLay it on him good and intimidate him into giving up this stupid prank of his.â
Frowning, you follow them out of the locker room, adjusting your skirt. âCanât we just go straight to the fire station? Do we have to go on this wild goose chase?â
Toru fake pouts, and puts a hand over his heart. âYou tired of us, little lady? Hate us already? Oh, weâre just terrible, arenât we, Sato?â
âThe worst.â
âNo, no,â you hurriedly deny. âItâs not that. You guys are great.â
He beams, stringing his arm over yours and forcing yours to hang loosely from your shoulder.
âThen itâs decided â weâre chasing after our Sukuna goose!â
And once again, youâre left with no choice but to do as they say.
.
.
.
After texting some mutual friends for where Sukuna might be, the three of you wind up at his apartment building. The twins have been trying to get ahold of the man, to no avail. It seems heâs intent on forcing all of you to ride out his cruel prank.Â
You texted your friends, trying to find out what exactly happened last night that might make this Sukuna person hate you enough to do this. Youâre just some random girl, why would you be involved in the beef of some pretty well known guys?
They told you that they didnât see you much at all during the party, that some time after arriving together, you disappeared and was only seen here and there, dancing and having a pretty good time with â and this is the really surprising part â both the twins, at different times.Â
Videos and pictures were shared to you: youâd be in the background, always with a drink in your hand, smiling like youâve never smiled before, and flanked by one of the twins almost all the time. The videos seem to be earlier in the night. No cuffs in sight. Thereâs definitely videos from later in the night, but the people who took them havenât woken up yet.
âSo we were hanging out a lot last night, huh?â
Sato makes a face that says, guess so, whilst Toru whistles an impressed tune. The latter jokingly says, âWeâre meant to be, Second year.â
âSeven of the eleven pictures were of me and her,â his twin points out.Â
âSo? Thatâs just a one picture difference!â
âWhatever helps you sleep at night.â
âHer ass on my dick helped me sleep last night,â Toru fires back, clutching your hand and bringing it up to his face so he can lay a kiss on your knuckles with a wink.Â
Sato yanks you towards him, and you stumble his way in the narrow hallway. He licks the palm of your hand, one upping his brother.Â
Face burning, you shove both of them back. âCan you guys stop? We need to work out what happened last night â how did we all get so drunk that we donât remember how we ended up cuffed and in bed together?â Then, you frown. âWeâŠwe didnât sleep together, did we?â
That was actually a question youâve had since this morning, but youâd shrugged it off as being an impossibility. Thereâs no way two hot twins would want you, nevermind share a woman. However, after that little stunt in the locker room, youâre starting to wonder.
The frat twin laughs. âThatâs cute. Isnât she cute, Sato?â
âAdorable.â
Theyâre both laughing at you, and itâs irritating. Aggrieved, you ask, âWhatâs so funny? I donât think itâs a ridiculous question to ask considering we woke up in the same bed with no memory of last night.â
Toru lifts his arm, and yours, rustling your hair with your own hand. âBabe, if you slept with me, youâd never forget. Trust.â
âYour mind could forget, sure, but your pussy wouldnât; sheâd still be feeling with me,â Sato says, matter-of-factly. His bright, all-seeing eyes flit down to the apex of your thighs as you walk, and you have to resist the urge to squeeze them together.Â
Damn.
âHey, weâre here â 666.â He snickers to himself, thoroughly amused. Toru nudges you. âFitting, amirite?â
Before he could knock on, you stop him. âWhat are we gonna do if heâs in? Are you guys going to fight him?â
Sato drawls, âYou watch too many movies, Anthro; weâre just going to ask him to give us the key. Sukunaâs an asshole but heâs not the kind to drag a joke on.â
âYeah, he probably just forgot in the first place,â his twin added.Â
âOh.â
That makes sense. Thereâs no need to get violent. The prankâs not that harmful, you suppose.
They knock. You wait. No one answers.
âIs he not in?â
Toru tries the doorknob. The door opens. You all share a look. That feels pretty fucking ominous, like a trap laid out for you. âWeâre not going in, are we?â you ask, looking up and down the hallway in case someone catches you three trespassing, or is it breaking and entering?
Whatever it is, itâs going to end you up in prison.
Lips graze the shell of your ear as someone whispers, âScared of entering the devilâs domain with us? Think weâre going to eat you up? Hmm?â
âIf you behave, we will,â someone else rasps at the back of your neck.Â
âStop fucking around,â you reply, flustered by the tingles erupting where they touched you.Â
A hand presses in at the small of your back, and as the doorâs opened, one of them chirps, âIn you go, angel!â
You stumble inside, held up from falling only by the dense weight of two men chuckling at the little yelp you release.Â
The door clicks shut behind you.
For a second, you all just stand there.
Sukunaâs apartment isâŠexactly what youâd expect, and simultaneously worse â just aggressively, unapologetically male.
A pair of hockey skates sits abandoned by the entrance, laces trailing like shed snakeskin. A duffel bag, half unzipped, spills tape rolls, spare socks, and a mouthguard case onto the hardwood floor. The faint smell of detergent battles unsuccessfully with sweat and something woodsy, his cologne, probably, clinging to the air.
The living room is small but decent â a worn leather couch with a throw blanket tossed carelessly over one arm, a low coffee table cluttered with protein bars, a TV remote, a half-empty Gatorade bottle, and a stack of lecture notes weighed down by a puck. His backpack is slumped against the couch, as though it gave up halfway through being put away.
On one wall: framed team photos. A hockey stick mounted horizontally. A couple of medals draped over the corner of the frame, like it hardly matters to him.
The kitchen is visible from where you stand. Open plan. Dishes in the sink. Not stacked to the ceiling, but definitely past âIâll wash them laterâ territory. A frying pan left out on the stove. A carton of eggs on the counter. A magnetic whiteboard on the fridge with scribbled practice times and what looks like a grocery list that just says: milk, rice, jerk off 3:37pm.
Weirdly specific, but okay.
You all step further in, handcuffs clinking obnoxiously between you. The fuzz tinkles your wrist every time one of them moves too abruptly, and itâs soothed by the brushing of knuckles and the rubbing of shapes by thumbs.
âMaybe he left the key here,â one twin says, scanning. âLetâs have a look around.â
As a unit, the three of you shuffle around. Drawers are opened. Closed. A quick glance under couch cushions. You check the kitchen counter with your free hand, careful not to knock over the precarious tower of mail.
The apartment is messy but lived-in. No mysterious stains. No broken furniture. Just a college athlete who does not evidently prioritise tidiness.Â
Thenâ
Voices. From the hallway. Muffled at first: ââŠyou said you were done with herââ
The three of you freeze.
âAnd I am,â comes the unmistakable low, irritated drawl.
âOh really? Explain to me why I found her panties in your car!â
âTheyâre yours.â
âShut the fuck up. I donât wear blue thongs. I only wear white.â
âAinât nothing white and pure about you.â
âFuck you!â
Your stomach drops.
It sounds like a loversâ quarrel. You donât know this Sukuna very well, or at all, but youâre one hundred percent sure he would not be fine seeing you guys in his place when heâs fighting with his girlfriend.Â
Keys jangle outside.
âOh my God,â you whisper.
âCloset,â Sato hisses.
You donât argue.
They yank you down the short hallway toward what you assume is the bedroom. The space is larger than you expect â unmade bed, sheets twisted, a jersey tossed over the desk chair. His cologne bottle sits uncapped near the nightstand. A lamp. A stack of textbooks. A charging cable trailing off the mattress like something that gave up halfway. But thereâs no time to be psychoanalysing this manâs bedroom.
The front door opens.
âYou said that last time!â the woman snaps, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
Youâre shoved toward the sliding closet door. It opens with a soft scrape. Inside: hanging shirts, mostly dark. Hoodies. A winter coat. Shoe boxes stacked on one side. A laundry basket half-full.
âAll of us?â you hiss.
âGot a better idea?â
The door slides shut just as footsteps enter the bedroom.
Youâre crushed instantly. Back against the wall. Toru in front of you. Sato practically plastered behind. The handcuffs force you closer than is remotely comfortable. Someoneâs arm is wedged between your ribs and a stack of shoeboxes. A coat hanger digs into your shoulder. How are you back in this position again?Â
Outside, the argument spills into the room.
âIâm not doing this,â Sukuna says flatly.
âYou never do anything! You justâ god, youâre impossible!â
A thud. Maybe something dropped on the bed. You hold your breath. Another thud. The mattress creaks. No, please donât, you beg.Â
âYou knew what this was,â he says, voice colder now.
âAnd what is it?â she demands.
Silence stretches. You can feel Toruâs heartbeat through his chest where youâre practically pressed against him. Or maybe itâs yours. The handcuffs shift as someone adjusts their balance. The metal clinks. Loud.
All four of you freeze again.
ââŠwhat was that?â the woman asks.
You donât breathe. Not a single one of you moves.
Sukunaâs footsteps approach. The closet door handle rattles lightly as if tested. Your heart actually stops. Like medically dead stops. Thenâ
A scoff.
âProbably the pipes,â he mutters dismissively. Footsteps retreat. The argument resumes, lower now. Tense.Â
Inside the closet, youâre still crammed together like contraband. One twinâs breath ghosts across your temple. âIf you make another sound,â he whispers so quietly it barely exists, âIâm framing you as the girl with the blue thong.â
You would elbow him if you had the space. It wasnât even you!
Instead, you stay very, very still.
Their masculine scents engulf you. One of them smells like tacky aftershave done right, somehow, and the other is clean laundry. Both are intoxicating, as is the heat they exude which has you flushing in the cramped space.Â
Itâs tight and cramped here. You barely have room to breathe, barely have room for your lungs to expand. And youâre pretty sure youâre standing on someoneâs foot, though no one complains. As slowly and carefully as you can, you adjust yourself, grimacing at the tightness and darkness in the closet.
âStop squirming,â Toru pleads. When you glance at him, heâs staring up, Adamâs apple bobbing.Â
âWhat?âÂ
Sato whispers in your ear, âYouâre making him pop a boner. Me too. Nobody tell you itâs rude to get a guy hard and not do something about it?â
âTheyâre right outside,â you whisper back. âEven if I wanted to, we couldnât do anything.â
A thumb flicks your nipple. Your moan is stifled by a hand to your mouth. Toru says, and in the darkness of the closet you can hear his grin, âOh, but you want to, donât you. You want to so bad. I bet feeling us up like this, knowing you can get caught, is making your little kitty purr.â
âLittle kitty? Seriously?â
âShut up, Sato. Maybe if you said it more, youâd get laid as often as I do.â
âI get laid plenty, asshole.â
âShut up both of you,â you fire back at the two of them, ear craning to hear whatâs happening outside. Thereâs no more arguing, which is a good sign, but thereâs definitely signs of life, which isnât a good sign; theyâre still here. You can hear talking, hushed and intimate, as well as rhythmic creaking.Â
Oh no.Â
âDamn,â Toru says under his breath. âRyomenâs fucking his girl. Guess Iâll finally be able to settle my bed with Fushiguro â does the psycho last longer than thirty seconds? Any takers?â
No one replies to him.
Through your breathing, you canât help but listen to the sounds of moaning and groaning. Thereâs even some slapping involved, and a couple, âyou like that?â, âyouâre making a mess all over my cock, you little slut,â and âpicking a fight just to cum, you ainât slick.â
That Sukuna guy is an aggressive one.Â
âIs it weird to say, given our situation, that I think itâs nice that theyâre so in love and can easily resolve their problems?â you say, as quietly as you can.
Both twins snort.
âThey ainât in love, Second year. Theyâre just horny and toxic, which makes for a great combo. And if I recognise the voice right, then thatâs Cassie. Sheâs a mess, no offence to her. She likes stealing her friendâs man. Great tits though.â
âSheâs just another girl in his roster; Sukuna doesnât date. Not unless pigs are airborn.â
âOh.â
The three of you are breathing heavily, constantly brushing up against each other. Toruâs shirt is scraping your hardened nipples through your shirt. Your ass is grinding behind you. Hands are gripping your hips under your skirt as another set sneaks under your top, clutching your waist and climbing higher and higher till itâs just about grazing the underside of your tits.
Is it the uninhibited moaning outside?
Or the masculine scent youâre enveloped in?
Whatâs got you so hot and bothered, squirming between them, whining to be touched?
A hand grips your hip, pulling you back. A hot thing hangs heavy behind you. Your breath hitches. Meanwhile, lips press to your temple, then to your cheek, and finally your lips.Â
Toru doesnât kiss you. Not yet. He first whispers, âBeen wanting to do this since this morning.â Then he kisses you. Itâs sweet, soft, and gentle. It gives you butterflies. A metallic thing scrapes your bottom lip, and when you gasp, heâs quick to explain, âJust my tongue piercing, babe. Youâll get used to it. Soonâll be getting to feel it against your clit, trust.â
Something long and hard slides itself between your thighs. You stiffen.Â
âWhat? Did you think I was gonna let my brother have all the fun?â Satoâs hands are gripping your bare hips, pulling you back and forth on his cock, which he ruts right up against your panties, cockhead prodding your clothed clit.
Panicking a little, you voice out, âWhat if they hear us?â
âYou donât want to be caught, Anthro? You better keep quiet then.â
One of them grope your tits, tweaking the hardened buds through your shirt, carrying your hand with his. You twitch with every flick, every scratch of a nail, and every pinch. Toru swallows your moans, greedily gulping them down. You really are getting used to the tongue piercing; itâs an addictive sensation against your own tongue.Â
The heat between your legs is almost scalding, and the way it separates your pussy lips, greeting your throbbing clit on its way forward, has your hips working back in tandem.Â
âGood girl,â one of them mutters.
The veins on the cock are felt by your sensitive skin. God, heâs big. Like really big. Would Toru be big too? Could you take any of their cocks? Both of them? Is that too filthy to think about?
Outside, a feminine voice calls out, âNgh! Sukuna, right there! Harder, baby, please!â
âDonât call me baby, you whore. Just take my cock and be quiet.â
You wonât admit it to anyone, but the sounds of skin slapping, headboard banging, and wanton screaming are getting to you. Theyâre setting the mood, and youâre growing less and less ashamed of the fact that youâre being thighfucked by one of the Gojo twins as the other shoves his tongue down your throat and squeezes your tits.Â
This is even filthier than in the locker room. More lewd. Obscene.Â
Youâre rubbing yourself all over twins in a closet, hiding, and trespassing whilst the owner of the place is fucking his girl, and they donât have a clue. If this is how parties end, then you might be inclined to attend another one of theirs.
âS-sato,â you whimper to his brotherâs lips, âIâm gonna cum.â
âFuck, me too.â
âWhat am I, chopped liver?â
Full body shudders wrack you. You clutch Toruâs stupid t-shirt, hips stuttering, and juices soaking your panties. Thighs tightening in pulses with the strain of your muscles, you wring groans from Sato right into your ear.Â
âShit, donât cum all over me,â Toru hastily says, before picking up a random shirt off the hanger and shoving it between your legs just in time as Satoâs cock pulses in waves. âUgh, thatâs disgusting.â
âThanks,â his twin mumbles, lifting your hand to his face. You fix his glasses for him, pushing it back up his nose bridge.Â
âWhere are you going now?â the girl asks, voice slightly muted by the barriers between you and her.
Bed creaking before feet pad on the floor, Sukuna answers, âGotta stop by the ADP.â Silence. âAlpha Delta Phi? Gojoâs frat? Jesus, do you know anything other than how to bounce on cock? Forget it. I just need to go pick something up. Let yourself out whenever, but donât be back here tonight. Iâm having the boys over.â
âOh, please, we both know thatâs just code for having your other girl over.â
âWell if you know, then why bother playing coy about it. Yeah, Iâm fucking other women, just like youâre fucking other guys. I donât care and neither should you. Take a shower, nap, or whatever the fuck you want. Just donât be here when I get back.â
âFuck you.â
âYou just did, sweetheart.â
Feet pad away and full silence returns to the room. In the distance, a door shuts. You all breathe out a sigh of relief, shoulders dropping.Â
âWhat an asshole,â you say, pushing the closet door open for fresh air.Â
âTold you,â the twins say in unison.Â
The bedâs been left a mess, with a huge wet patch at the centre that you donât want to focus too much on. Satoâs tucked himself back in his jeans expertly, and youâd think heâd never taken anything out in the first place.Â
âOi, Sato, lift her up for me.â
Sighing, the guy grumbles before lifting you by the back of your thighs. You fall back on his chest, head resting on his shoulder. Legs wide open, Toru kneels between them, grinning up at you. He winks, poking the wet spot youâve made in your panties.Â
âWhatâre you doing?â you ask, startled.
Toru shrugs, pulling your panties aside. He takes a deep inhale, nose skimming and coming back all glossy. âJust wondering what you taste like that. You both got to cum, so itâs only fair I get a little something too, no?â
âItâs logical. Practically a faultless argument,â Sato concurs, leaving a kiss on your heated cheeks to reassure you. âDonât worry; he wonât bite.â A little hushed and more mischievous, he adds, âNot like me.â
Naturally, that does nothing to wash away the embarrassment of his twin being face to face with your puffy pussy.Â
His smooth hands soothe the tremor in your thighs. âJust a taste, gorgeous. To tide me over till we make it back to the frat house to catch Sukuna. Besides, I want you to get comfortable with my tongue piercing.âÂ
He pecks your clit, then takes a longer lick of your pussy. You gasp, hands kept down by your sides by their own and unable to push him away. Toru is as unashamed as ever, shoving his whole face in your cunt and forcing squelches out when he tongues your entrance.Â
âW-weâre going back to the -ngh!- frat house?â
Sato hums, seemingly unbothered by any of whatâs going on. It might as well be any other Saturday. âWe have to catch him there; I donât want to spend the rest of my day chasing after him, when I could be buried inside your pussy.â
SLURRRRRP!
You cry out, toes curling.Â
âSo sweet,â the twin down there moans. âYou gotta taste her, Sato.â
âDonât talk with your mouth full, idiot,â he scolds. âAnd hurry up.â
âQuit telling me what to do â I like taking my time with good pussy, sorry.â
âToru!â
Cooing, he mutters an apology to your cunt. âAw, sorry, babe. Donât mean to neglect you. Donât worry, Toruâs here. Toruâs gonna make you feel so good, better than my brotherâs tiny ass dick, I promise.â
Said brother scoffs.Â
But you donât care about their unnecessary competition. You can only focus on the jolts of electricity zooming from your pussy and exploding in your belly. Youâve never been eaten out so good, and not with a piercing youâre painfully aware rubbing just right through your puffy folds. It rolls against your clit. You moan.
âFeel good?â Toru asks, all smug. âGot the idea from our piercer friend. Itâs a real hit with the ladies.â
You frown. âItâs impolite to talk about -hah fuck thatâs good- o-other women when youâre between someoneâs legs.â
Sato kisses your cheek again, and approvingly inserts, âPut him in his place, baby. Been trying to teach him manners since we were born and he never listens to me. Maybe heâll listen to you.â
âQuit talking about me like Iâm some kind of dog,â Toru grumbles.
âThen quit acting like it,â you bravely snap, possessed by the desperate need to chase another high. âMake me cum already, before I ask your brother to do it instead.â
Another kiss, this time punctuated by a chuckle. â
âKittyâs got claws. Thatâs fucking hot.â
Lips wrap around your clit, which is still sensitive from the incessant rubbing of Satoâs cock. Thatâs why when he finally sucks hard on the little thing, you cum again way too quickly. âFuck, Toru!â
âMm, thatâs right, baby, ride my face and my tongue.â
Through your writhing and squirming, Sato holds you up, bearing your weight with ease, all while Toru laps up the juices oozing out of your pussy, like a puppy, like a man in a dessert.Â
Thatâs three orgasms all in less than an hour. Itâs a new record for you, which means your body isnât used to it. On shaky legs, youâre set down. They hold you up, preventing you from collapsing on the floor.Â
One of them ruffles your hair. âYou did such a great job, Second year. Weâre almost at the finish line, think you can manage a slight jog back to the frat house?â
How are they so chill? How can they act like nothing happened? Thereâs not even a single wrinkle on their shirts, whereas you look and feel like a mess.Â
âY-yeah,â you mumble, dazed and still experiencing waves of an orgasm that wasnât supposed to happen so suddenly.Â
Sato nods, pulling your panties back into place and patting your pussy. âWe know a shortcut â itâll give us at least fifteen minutes ahead of Sukuna. More if he gets distracted and walks slowly.â
âGreat. Letâs go.â
.
.
.
âOh my godâŠâ you breathe out, staring at your phone. âI was dancing on a table?â
More videos and pictures are surfacing online now that the partygoers are waking up and getting over their splitting headache. And damn it, you wish they hadnât.
Leaning over, Toru whistles. âThatâs fucking hot. It reminds me of when my frat brothers hired strippers for my birthday, except your dancing is so much better.â
You elbow the little kiss up. âWe both know thatâs a lie. Iâm dancing like a drugged up chimpanzee.â
âLike an unstable gas, just shaking about the place,â Sato adds. When Toru and you give him a look, a blush graces his cheeks. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. âSo he can talk about strippers but I canât mention anything related to the periodic table?â
That was a slip of his cocky façade, and it brings a smile to your lips.
He rolls his eyes at your look of adoration. Glancing at the screen, he says, âWe didnât have the cuffs then, and that was probably about midnight. Our parties typically end at 3 am, with some people lingering even later. So between then and 3am, Sukuna had slipped cuffs on us.â
âDo you think he drugged us too?â you wonder, speedwalking along the back of a building youâve never visited on campus. âI mean, Iâm just not the type to get black out drunk.â
Itâs awful to suggest Sukuna, a man youâve never met before, would be the type to spike peoplesâ drinks, but it would certainly explain things.Â
Toru shakes his head, running a hand through his messy hair. âI wouldnât put it past him to slip us something that makes us more susceptible to doing stupid shit. Though, honestly, looking at how Iâm twerking on my pledge, Itadori, I donât think I needed anything more to get black out.â
âThatâs just how you are naturally,â his twin snarks.Â
To that, the frat guy laughs in disbelief. âYouâre one to talk considering we have five videos of you writing equations on the entirety of the basketball teamâs backs and yapping their ears off about Digimon, which you only do after the eleventh shot. Shots, mind you, you hate but never pass down.â
âOnly âcause I need alcohol to survive your stupid parties,â Sato fires back.Â
âParties you enjoy!â
âAlright, alright, thatâs enough, boys. Letâs just agree we all got messy on our own,â you establish, feeling like the two are way too close to tearing each other apart.
When you reach the frat house, Sato opens the door for you. Does no one lock their doors on campus?
You didnât notice it in your rush to get out of the house earlier, how big and beautiful the house is. Itâs old, ornately decorated with impeccable wooden floors and portraits hanging on walls. Of course, there are thongs, bras, streamers, limp balloons, used condoms strung all over the place, and thereâs empty cans of beer and bottles of alcohol just lying about. But beneath all of the grime of a party done well lies a gorgeous home.Â
Cleaners flit about the place, collecting trash and mopping floors.Â
âPerk of living in a frat,â Toru proudly declares, âwe never have to clean up after ourselves.â
âThat is pretty cool,â you agree.Â
Sato huffs. âItâs insanely privileged. And intrusive. I much prefer not having strangers constantly leaving their traces in my home.â
The three of you gracefully ascend the stairs, avoiding mysterious wet puddles and stains you didnât want to think too much about. Sukuna doesnât seem to be here, so they were right about the shortcut.
âSo you live on your own?â you ask him, nodding a thank you to Toru who carries you over a stack of bottles.Â
âYeah, but weâre over at each otherâs places so often we might as well not be.â
You giggle. âThatâs so cute. You two just need to be together all the time, huh?â
Toru punches his brotherâs arm over your head. âSheâs laughing at us, Sato. She thinks weâre pathetic and psychotically close.â
âI promise, itâs only circumstance that keeps bringing us together,â Sato dryly says. âIf I had it my way, Iâd have said good riddance to him a long time ago.â
âMy sentiment exactly â pretty sure I tried to eat you in the womb and thatâs why youâre so ugly.â
A laugh escapes you.
Eventually, you reach their bedroom.Â
Right back where you started.
Smiling, you say, âItâs funny that we did all that work just to end up back here because Sukuna was always coming by, isnât it? Quite ironic actually.â
The door shuts behind you.Â
âLook, Toru,â a dark voice coos, âshe doesnât know sheâs about to be fucked an inch of her life.â
âI know,â an equally dark voice agrees. âI canât get over how stinkinâ cute she is. Makes me wanna just eat her out till she faints. Think sheâll let me?â
âI think sheâs been soaked the whole day and at this point sheâll let us do anything we wantâŠisnât that right, Anthro?â
The hairs on your arms stand on edge. Two foreboding presences flank you, reminding you that thereâs no where you can go that they wonât follow, that youâre stuck with them for good, and that you couldnât hope to fight them off even if you wanted to. Your panties might as well not be there by how your wetness is trickling down your thighs.
They drag you down onto the bed with them.Â
Hands make quick work of your clothes: they pull down your skirt, taking your panties with them, they yank your shoes and socks off, and one of them even grabs scissors to cut right through the shirt before you can say anything. The metal grazes your skin, slicing right between your tits.Â
âWait, wait,â you yell, overwhelmed by the suddenness of their actions. âSukuna! Sukunaâs coming.â
Sato says, âNot for twenty minutes â one of my friends said they saw him stop by the Student Council office.â
âProbably going to bother the Prez,â Toru snickers, pressing your panties to his nose and moaning. âFuck, I love the way your pussy smells. The dirtier the better.â
Heat rises to your cheeks immediately, and you fall back onto Satoâs lap. He licks a stripe up your neck. âMy brotherâs got weird tastes. Forgive him, angel. Heâs just born weird. I like to say I took all the brains in the womb.â
Toru snorts, throwing aside all your shredded clothes. âSure, letâs pretend I havenât had chicks crying to me about how youâre so mean to them, asking for me to be the nice twin.âÂ
The three of you kneel on the bed together, cuffs clinking when they clash, the pink fluff tickling skin. Theyâre both still dressed. You feel Satoâs jeans scratching your skin, the metal zip rubbing right up against your pussy, and Toruâs silly âBest Seatsâ shirt grazing your nose as he towers over you.Â
He brings up the hem, biting it, revealing washboard abs. You blink at it.
He says, âLick it, Second year. Go on.â Hesitating, you run your tongue over his torso, starting from the white treasure trail, over his outie belly button, then his abs, and his chest. Of course he knows he has an impressive body. Itâs important he knows you know that too; itâs an ego boost for him. âSuch a good girl,â he coos. âIâll be sure to fuck you real good as a reward.â
âNot until Iâm done,â Sato argues. âIâm older so I get first dibs.â
His long fingers are parting your pussy lips, grinding his zipper up and bumping it against your clit. The textureâs weird, and wild, and it has you heaving, no doubt leaving behind your slick all over the metal teeth.Â
Gripping your face with his free hand, Sato kisses you for the first time. Heâs got your neck twisted back, the wetness of your pussy smearing on your skin. Thereâs no piercing, only a minty taste that youâre obsessed with. Itâs messier, filthier, all tongue and spit, so different from how his brother kisses.Â
Youâre dragged back, and lips quickly replace Satoâs. That familiar piercing returns. Youâre stolen back again. Then again. And again. Theyâre fighting over who gets to kiss you. Youâre dizzy, breathless, creaming for more.
âQuit taking her,â Toru growls.Â
âFuck off,â Sato snarls. âJust sit there and look away. Threeâs a crowd.â
âItâs not fair. Youâre already getting to fuck her pussy first.â
âOh? Youâre so easy to give up?â He whispers in your ear, all smug, âMy brotherâs a pushover. Bet it turns you way off, doesnât it? Itâs alright, angel, you can tell him to back off. Itâll just be you and me, wonât that be nice?â
Fingers coat themselves in your pussy juice, rubbing your clit nice and good before pushing inside your pulsing hole. âNo, babe, tell the nerd he can fuck off and go research where the clit even is. Iâll fuck you so good you wonât be able to walk away from my bed even when the cuffs are off.â
Neither of them will actually give up, no matter what you say, you know that. So you say, âBoth of you. I want to be fucked by both of you. Please!â
âSheâs so polite. Isnât she polite, Sato?â
âPerfectly so.â
If someone had told you youâd be shared by twins in a frat house, youâd have called the police for harassment. Now, as youâve said those words and they sigh and begrudgingly agree to allow the other to be here, you think this was inevitable.
Toru creeps back, working on his zip and freeing his hard cock. A hand shoves your face forward. If it isnât for Sato holding you up, youâd be face planting into the sheets.Â
âA-are you sure Sukuna wonât catch us?â
Fingers push in, scissoring your cunt and prepping your walls. They cruelly curl up against your g-spot. âYou think sheâs trying to piss us off by mentioning another manâs name, Toru?â
âI think it doesnât matter â sheâs gonna forget thereâs anyone else outside these walls when Iâm through with her.â
Right in front of you, Toru strokes his dick. Itâs pale, flushed red at the tip and already leaking. Heâs trimmed neatly. Thereâs even a tattoo on his hip that says âLucky You ;)â
Your mouth waters.Â
The salty pre is smeared on your lips. He taps it, once, then twice. âSay ahh, babe.â
Behind you, something pokes your pussy. It slides between your thighs again, spreading your juices on your skin. It enters you, inch by inch, slowly, making you feel every bit of him.
At the same time, Toruâs cock pushes through, filling your mouth. Both ends have to stretch wide to accommodate them. Already, youâre overwhelmed, overstimulated, over the fucking moon at being used so lewdly. Your friends are never going to believe how you spent your Saturday, and your future kids will never know just how wild their mother got back in college.
Soon, they bottom out, and itâs a miracle youâve been able to take both of them at the same time.Â
âDamn, what a talented fucking mouth,â Toru breathes out, head thrown back. âA star for you, Second year.â
âYou should feel her pussy,â Sato grits out, fingers digging into the plush of your ass with the strain of resisting the urge to thrust over and over again in your cunt. âItâs the tightest thing ever.â
His brother groans. âShut the fuck up, dude. I canât stand hearing your voice. Respectfully. Youâre ruining this for me.â
âGrow up.â
In tandem, they rut back and forth, starting off in small bursts first to let you get used to it, then steadily growing faster and faster. Youâre basically being used as as fleshlight, fucked in the way they want, with little regard for how uncomfortably stretched out and twisted you are. And it feels amazing.
ButâŠ
Why does Satoâs cock feel so different?
Your cunt clenches down on it. He grunts, then chuckles. âYouâre wondering whatâs on my dick, arenât you? Itâs a piercing baby. Thought only Toru has one? Didnât expect it from me, did you? You feel it scraping your walls? Feel me deep inside your perfect pussy?âÂ
And you can. You can feel exactly where he is, how deep heâs in, how satisfied your gummy walls are to feel something so big stretching you out, like a feeding a sacrifice to a hungry god.
You moan around Toruâs dick. He grunts. âFuck, babe! Youâre gonna make me cum early.â
âPathetic,â Sato mutters. A cold wetness lands with a thwack right on your puckering hole. You jerk. âRelax. Just trust me.â A thumb circles the hole, pushing in only knuckle deep yet itâs more than enough to have you feeling insanely full. âIf we had more time, then Iâd prep this tight hole to take me. Thisâll have to do.â
Satoâs an ass guy?
Are you?
Itâs never occurred to you to play in that other hole, though as he hooks his thumb in, you start to think youâve been missing out this entire time. Toru, on the other hand, is obsessed with your tits. He keeps groping them, flicking the buds so youâll moan even more around his cock.
Balls are swinging, bumping against your chin and on your clit. The bed squeaks and creaks with the force of their ploughing, headboard slamming against the wall. You wonder if the other frat guys can hear, if they know youâre a slut squirting around a cock as you get rammed by their frat president and his twin brother. It must be a normal occurrence with how whorish they both are.
Your tongue swirls around the unpierced cockhead in your mouth, licking the salty slit. The guy in front of you curses, still biting the hem of his shirt. You can see his abs constricting, the muscles under his tattoo twitching. .Â
Sato breathily chuckles. âMy little brotherâs gonna tap out soon, and Iâll have you all to myself.â
Toru pushes back in immediately, not wasting even a single second. You have to breathe through your nose, the walls of your throat squeezing around the hefty intrusion. Whereas Satoâs long, Toruâs thicker â the difference is minute, yet you can tell.Â
Feeling challenged, Toru scoffs. He taps your cheek. âTell him he can spank you. Go on.â He pulls out.
You cough, throat hoarse already. âSpank me, Sato. Itâs okay, I can take it.â
SMACK!
You scream around Toruâs dick. His hips jerk forward with a groan. The fucker didnât waste a single second!
âSo fucking tight!â He slaps your cheek again, hitting exactly where he had the first time. You moan, pussy pulsing. âYou like that? Well, arenât you a dirty thing.â
Itâs a turn-on for Sato, you understand now. It flipped a switch in him, seeing the mark of his hand blooming on your ass; his hips are thrusting harder, hitting that gummy spot inside you that has you seeing stars and flooding down his cock, which practically rams you mercilessly.
The strength of his thrusting forces your throat to take Toru even deeper, a fact that the frat guy rejoices in as he holds you up by a hand on your tit, groping like he had before. The cockheadâs bumping the back of your throat, no doubt bruising you.
You cum, shuddering, but neither of them seem to care. They only notice the throbbing and rhythmic squeezing of your cunt and throat, groaning and grunting above you.Â
âPoor nerd,â Toru snickers. âHeâs gonna cum so quickly. Itâs sad, isnât it? Itâs nice that youâre so charitable, babe.â
âBig talk for a masochist.â The older twin rubs your clit, occasionally pinching the thing just to feel you tighten around him. Darkly, he orders, âDig your nails into his thigh. All the girls know heâs weak for pain. He even calls the older ones mommy. Sad, isnât it? Disturbed, even.â
Panicked, he tries to grab your hand before it can grip his thigh through his jeans. But itâs too late. Youâre faster. You dig your nails in as hard as you can so heâll feel it through the material. He whimpers, hips stuttering. âJesus FUCK!â
Hot cum spurts in your throat. You gag on the salty taste. Tears spring to your eyes.
Sato laughs, yanking you up by the air. Toruâs cock slides out with a pop!
Back flat on his chest, he holds you up with a hand around your throat. It presses in slightly, slowly stopping airflow to your head in intervals, holding enough to make you delirious.Â
Aggrieved and peeved off for being forced to cum early by a cheap trick, Toru poutily kisses your lips, running that tongue piercing over the seam. He pushes a hand against your belly. You whine, feeling even more of Sato this way. âLetâs see how long either of you lasts like this, cheaters.â
âFuck offâChrist! Shit!â
It only takes a mere second. Itâs more embarrassing than Toruâs premature ejaculation.
At the sudden and impossible tightness, the older twin curses under his breath. White paints your walls. The heat is searing and it pushes you over the edge too.Â
Quickly, youâre pulled off his dick, which is still spurting. Some cum gets on your face when youâre brought to your back on the bed. Theyâre manhanding you, positioning you like youâre a ragdoll, like youâre a mere toy for their pleasure. Itâs hard to tell where up and down are, left and right, if itâs even the same day.
A cock pushes in, bullying its fat length with no hesitation. The aftershocks wrings out a deeply satisfied moan from Toru, who sinks in balls deep easily. He mutters petulantly, âIf her pussy didnât feel so good, Iâd be too disgusted by your spunk all over her to get hard again.â
âBe grateful Iâm letting you fuck her at all,â Sato retorts. He removes his glasses, squinting and finding the fogging of the lenses a pain in the ass. As he clears it out with the bottom of his shirt, he adjusts himself over you, obscuring your view of Toru. His heavy cock hasnât lessened in density. It rests between your tits, soaked and sticky. âStick your tongue out.â
You do. He makes a noise of approval.Â
His hands push your tits together, sandwiching his dick. Satoâs shaven. He likes things nice and clean, itâd seem. The metal bars under his cockhead are hot against your skin. You can see them. They look painful.Â
In between moans, you ask him, âDid the -hngh- piercings hurt?â
He shakes his head, lazily thrusting on your skin. His cock bumps onto your tongue, leaving drops of salty cum. You can taste yourself and him, and it oddly doesnât disgust you.
Behind his brother, Toru pushes your thighs up, hooking them over his arms. Amused, he says, âHeâs lying. He cried after, telling me he regrets it and he wants the piercings taken off. What a little bitch boy.â
âHe exaggerates.â But the pink tinting Satoâs cheeks tells a different story.Â
âWhatever you say, big bro,â Toru muses.
He yanks you back and forth on his cock, not exactly thrusting anymore. Youâre back to being used a fleshlight, as a pocket pussy, dragged up and down the veiny length of him. Heâs reaching deep, stretching you out even more than his brother did, though he doesnât reach your cervix as nicely as Sato had. It hardly matters to you. The pleasureâs all the same.Â
Thumbs brush over your nipples, flicking and rubbing, all while Sato squeezes your breasts tightly around his cock. His veins are prominent too, and they tickle your skin with every thrust. You swirl your tongue around his cockhead, teasing the underside where his piercings are every time he reaches your mouth. He throws his hair back, Adamâs apple bobbing.Â
âFuck, that mouth. Real fucking sinful,â he mutters.Â
Rocked back and forth, bruised and bullied from top to bottom, fingers digging into sensitive flesh, marking and claiming, with sticky juices drying on your skin and tears dripping down your cheeks from the overstimulation â itâs one orgasm after the other.
âAw, are you crying?â Sato asks, smirking and not looking the least bit apologetic.
Toru chuckles. âFor something so tight and greedy, her pussyâs real weak, donât you think?â
âThe weakest.â
Skin smacks against skin. Juices splash. Puddles grow beneath you. You can taste their cum, feel them and hear and see them everywhere. Even when you close your eyes, the shapes of their cocks are imprinted, practically burnt on your retina. They wonât stop talking, wonât stop commenting on how you tremble and tense around them.Â
One of them moans pornographically. They both laugh.
âHear how she moans? Youâd think sheâs on OnlyFans and sheâs trying to rack in the subs. Dirty, dirty girl.â
âShe does moan pretty loudly. Squeals like a pig too.â
Toru adds, âOh and her pussy wonât stop talking back to me. Maybe she wants to debate the collegiate system with me, or give me a glowing review on my dick game.â
âOnly youâd lose to a debate with a literal cunt,â Sato says, snorting.
âOh because youâd win one? Thatâs what you wanna brag about?â
âI won one when I made her cum like three times on my dick today.â
âPssh, youâre deluded.â
None of what they say gets to you. Youâre too deep in the pleasure, in the euphoric bliss, to properly register what theyâre saying. You just want them to keep fucking you, to keep stimulating your entire body. You want this to never stop.
Ankles locked around Toruâs hips, you yank him back, wanting more and more of him. Itâs never enough. The hairs at his base tickle your clit before he grinds his pelvis against it. Your eyes roll back.Â
Sato spits a fat dollop on your tit, barely assisting the glide of his cock, which easily slides between your tits â he just wanted to do that. The sight of you all messy, lips glossy, eyes dazed, causes the corners of his mouth to twitch.Â
Spittingâs his thing. Panty sniffing is Toruâs.
The more you learn about them, the more your invite to Hell solidifies. They really are twins from the Underworld, just so filthy, so lewd, so damned.
âFucking tight, squeezing me so good,â one of them groans, barely understandable.
âPretty fucking tits, prettier fucking mouth,â the other says, eyes flitting between your face and your breasts, undecided where it wants to stay.
All three of you moan at the same time, bodies spasming, and clit and cocks throbbing. Everyone gasps for breath, the air humid and tangy.Â
FinallyâŠ
âNgh! Sato! Toru!â
Cum spurts on your face, and you have to shut your eyes to avoid getting some in there. They land on your cheeks and nose and tongue. More cum fills up your cunt. All of your juices mix together in a warm concoction.Â
Youâve never been more full and deeply satisfied. You feel it in your bones, in your souls.Â
The fluff of the cuffs are soaked with your sweat and cum, the metal clammy. There are marks on your wrists from where theyâve pulled too much or too harshly, and the sting only adds to the pleasure.Â
Best.
Sex.
Of.
Your.
Life.
Probably best threesome too. Not that youâre planning on having any more.
âFuck that was good,â Toru says, hands rubbing your thigh and your stomach. He pulls out, and you wince. The emptiness is upsetting, although it doesnât last very long; his long, slender fingers push the cum leaking out back in, keeping you plugged for a little longer.Â
âMm,â Sato agrees, wiping cum from your face only to shove it in your mouth for you to suck off.Â
âWhat kind of freaky circus act am I looking at right now?â
Heads flip to the door. You almost get whiplash from how fast you turned.Â
In the doorway, a pink-haired, heavily tattooed man stands. He doesnât look disturbed, just amused. His eyes drink in your form, from your face to your tits to your pussy, or as much of your body he can see from where heâs standing anyway.
âOh hey, Ryomen,â Toru says, not making a move to cover himself or you up. He just stands there between your legs, absentmindedly rubbing your clit. âHow you doing?â
âToru!â you scold, still dazed but thinking more clearly than the other two, thatâs for sure. âAsk him about the cuffs.â
Does no one care about your dignity?
Nudity between men might be normal, but itâs certainly not between men and women. Despite that, theyâre acting like he just caught you hanging out. No one covers you up. The newcomer doesn't look away. Theyâre all acting like itâs the most normal thing in the world.
Who you presume is Sukuna finally spots the pink cuffs. He groans. âYou got it all dirty. God, I fucking hate you dumbass twins. Came back to pick it up, and this is how you repay the favour? You better get me new ones, Gojos.â
You blink.
Static rings in your ears.
âTheyâŠborrowed it from you?â
Sukuna quirks a brow, like heâs surprised youâre daring to speak to him. âYeah, twin fucker. In exchange for the keys to their garage and whatever car I wanted to drive around for the weekend.â Then he seems to piece something together and laughs mockingly. âJesus, did they sell you some story about how I cuffed you three together in punishment or something? How dumb can you be?â
Sato huffs. âWatch it, Ryomen.â
âYeah, another insult from your lips and Iâm decking you right across the cheek.â
âWhatever you freaks.â A ping goes off on his phone. Sukuna reads the notification. âAlright, I gotta get going. Get me new cuffs and keep me out of your shit. Donât even know why you didnât just get your own.â
Toru chuckles, tension disappearing as though it was never there to begin with, and his fingers still fucking inside you. âLies sell better when mixed with a little truth.â
Disgusted, Sukuna scowls. âYou sound like your nerdy brother. Donât try to sound smart, Idiot Gojo. It donât fucking suit you.â His eyes fall back to you. He smirks. âIf you get tired of their pasty asses, Iâm more than happy to fuck you right. You know where I live.â
He knew you were there?
Seeing the bewildered look on your face, he scoffs. âYou all breathe so fucking heavily. You think I wouldnât sense your stupidity radiating from my closet? I mean, I always knew the two of you were in the closet, but I never knew youâd be in there with a girl. Guess sexuality really is a spectrum.â
âFuck off, Sukuna,â Sato growls, cock soft now and being tucked right back into his pants.
He waves a hand lazily. âYeah, yeah, Iâm going. Unlike her, Iâm not interested in doing it with twins. Iâll see you weirdos around.â
âWait!â you call out before he can leave. âThe key! We need the key!â
Sukuna rolls his eyes at you.Â
âYouâre slower than you look,â he mutters, exasperated beyond measure. Louder, he says, enunciating hard so youâll get it, âI. Donât. Have. It. The twins. Are. Sexual deviants. Who lie. To get pussy. They have the key. They always had it. You think only with your clit or something?â
A pillow gets thrown at him, followed by, âFuck off, Ryomen.â
With a middle finger aimed at all three of you, he goes back the way he came, leaving you with guilty looking twins who each fish out a small key from their pockets.Â
âOh look,â Toru weakly cheers, âwe found it. Yay!â
One winces. âGuess we wonât need to go to the fire station.â
