The Dark Lady

Any pronouns! @The_Dark_Lady on everything else but it was taken here

[hells-lady]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My Soap/Ghost/OC fic if anyone wants it!

[hells-lady]

Caretaker! John Price x Reader

AO3 Link

You aren't a child, despite being born in a different century than he was, and you certainly aren't helpless. What you are is John's fucking princess.

You can have a job if you want, of course, or you could laze around in the library he built for you all day. He never wants to stop you from doing anything or hold you back. What he wants needs is to take care of you.

He cooks, he cleans, he fixes, he works. You want to bake him some muffins? You are a darling, and he will eat them all in one sitting just to keep that smile on your face. But you feel peckish? He's fixing charcutery. You feel like something fancy? He's prepping a fondue night. And you don't even take your dishes to the sink. You keep your pretty ass in your seat and talk to him about your day while he washes up. If he's running late one night and can't fix dinner, he orders in for you. Before he goes on a mission, he meal preps, hires and schedules a cleaning service, and hand washes your car inside and out just in case anything happens.

In the beginning, you thought you might grow tired of it eventually or go stir crazy, but years in, you were quite cushy on your throne. Because by letting him take care of you, you take care of him.

You haven't thought too hard about where the compulsion stems from, but it is as much a part of him as his hat. Taking care of you is everything to him, his hobby, his passion, his purpose. You are everything that is good in his life, and worshipping you is the only way he can atone for keeping you to himself.

And in the beginning, you accepted it as him being an excellent partner. He drove you everywhere you wanted, he got you the puppy you had always wanted(it was a retired military dog trained and bred to take down bears), and he ate pussy like a fucking pie-eating contest he'd won twenty years in a row.

He always asked before he started doing things for you. He never wanted you to feel like you were a doll in a dollhouse for him to play with. But sometimes he didn't ask for what he needed for fear of smothering you. About two months into dating, you were getting dressed for the day after he'd spent the night at your flat. He had already put on his uniform and leant against the wall as you picked through your closet to find an outfit. A glance in the mirror told you that he wasn't exactly relaxed. His arms were crossed, and his brow furrowed. You asked if everything was alright. It wasn't until the fifth time that this happened that you sat him down and planted yourself on his lap, refusing to move away or closer until he fessed up. Each time you dressed with him present, it got worse. His fingers would drum against his biceps, then he would clench his jaw, then grind his teeth, and the last straw was a persistent eye twitch that showed up whenever you walked into your closet.

You didn't have to pull teeth to get it out of him. He was nothing if not straightforward with you, and this seemed to be the only deviation. He sighed as he rested his forehead on your shoulder and admitted that he wanted to dress you. Not just lay out your clothes for today, but help you step into your pants, button your shirt, and tie your shoelaces.

It was off-putting. By then, you knew it was more than just being a great partner. John explained that when he wasn't taking care of you, he felt the room close in, his throat close up, and his skin crawl. He hadn't told you not because he was self-conscious about his needs, but because he didn't see his desires as important.

From then on, you kept careful watch of when he started getting twitchy and when he melted like butter on cornbread. And it was a learning curve to be sure. You realized even before you moved in together that he got a bit gruff when you used your card to buy something, even if it was a present for him. So you agreed when you moved in together that every penny you owned stayed in a high-interest savings account while your name went on every one of his cards and properties. This was a perfect medium for both of you, almost. But when you realized that he had been sneaking even more money into your personal account somehow, you had to have a meeting. He had noticed that you would come home with a fresh set of nails, and he hadn't gotten a notification from the credit card company. It was the first time you two compromised on his caretaking. He agreed that he would stop giving you more money if you started actually using his card.

Little hiccups here and there were natural and handled like partners. When you wanted to do something independently, you told him explicitly that he was not to interfere. Or when you needed private time, and he would respect it like orders from Laswell.

The problem was that he wasn't always home. His work required a lot from him, and he travelled a good bit sometimes without knowing if or when he would be back. This caused a great deal of anxiety for him. The first time he went on a trip after you got together, it was only for four days, but when he came back, he was pale, ashen, and damn near delirious from lack of sleep. His boys had rushed him from the airfield straight to your flat and into your arms as soon as they landed. They'd never seen him like that, not with his previous partners or anything. You thanked them and promised to take care of it before they left with concerned glances over their shoulders.

It was a wake-up call for John. You hadn't been together for even six months, and he was a basket case. That was when you sat down together and decided to come up with an actual plan. A plan for while he was away, a plan for if anything were to happen to him, and finally, if anything happened to you. He threw up during the last one.

Each plan involved his support network. You invited the whole task force over for drinks so that you and your partner could explain to them what was happening. They responded with disbelief at first, then confusion, then with eagerness to help.

You had met each of them many times at parties or even just poker nights. The boys had been kind enough to let you into their little circle without so much as a huff of annoyance. And of course, John talked about each of them as part of his own soul. You knew each of them well, and they loved you. But you were all about to get a lot closer.

"So the Captain has needs," Soap said, "And you two want us to take care of them when he's not here?"

You looked to John, who nodded solemnly. "Tha' bout sums it up. I need you to take care of the missus when I'm not around. Can't do a bloody thing while I'm out there, not knowing she's being cared for."

They all sat uncomfortably and took a pause as they remembered the sorry state he was in a few days prior. Forget not being able to do his job, Price couldn't function without you.

"Fair 'nuf." Gaz nodded and swirled his beer in the bottle absently at his side. "But I have a feeling you mean more than just mowing the lawn once a week."

You pursed your lips. "No. John would make a list before each trip."

"And that would include?" Ghost looked at you while he leaned back on the couch with his arms crossed and his legs spread. He wasn't going to let you move on without clarifying specifics.

You glanced at John by your side. He was hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in a death grip, his scotch long forgotten on the side table.

"Well, cooking, for one-" you started.

"Everything. Driving her, feeding her, dressing in the morning, sex, letting the dog out, everything."

The room was silent for a moment. He'd said the quiet part out loud. They'd all been expecting it, but they took a second to let it settle in.

Gaz was the first to break it, addressing you directly, "And you're alright with it, love?"

You blinked. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Gaz's brow furrowed. Soap cut in, "Well, we're not, you know," he gestured to John, "him."

"As far as I'm concerned, each of you is part of me. And if she's happy and spoiled, then I can rest easy." John shrugged.

"We'll be fucking your bird, Price." Ghost once again insisted on the utmost clarity.

You blushed and nodded, picking at a run in the couch.

"Well, she's certainly not against that part. Brought it up the other week as an option before I even left." John sat back. He probably relaxed a bit at no longer being the focus of the conversation.

You choked on a particularly deep gulp of your beverage. You couldn't bring yourself to look up. "Uh-"

"And whatever the missus wants, she fucking gets. I'm happy with it so long as I get proof you got the job done. Send a video here and there."

Now the boys were speechless. Soap gaped like a fish out of water. Gaz took the opportunity to chug the rest of his beer. Ghost stared dead into John's soul.

You sighed. "Well, our cards are on the table." If this didn't end well, you and John were going to have to move to Alaska. "Thoughts? Questions? Constructive feedback?"

"John." Everyone turned to Ghost, giving him their full attention. "We get a taste, and we're not going anywhere. You willing to take that step? She's gonna be our bird too now."

John nodded. "'s only right. Been keeping 'er to myself for too long. She deserves more."

You seemed to be behind in the conversation. What did they mean? Were they in?

John pulled you into his lap to sit sideways while he leaned back, relaxed now that the hard part was done.

"Sides," Soap started as he resettled into a new position between Ghost and Gaz, "'s not like we're strangers to sharing and taking care of each other."

It was true and a big part of why you and John had felt comfortable asking in the first place. The boys were in a tight circle in a way that standard sexuality and normative dynamics didn't apply. You knew from day one in your relationship with their captain that they were a package deal. Often, while they were out roughing it, they partook in each other for stress relief and comfort. John had told you it wasn't uncommon for them to pair up in tents for warmth and companionship. You had no qualms with any of it. After all, they were there first, and you had no place denying that, given the opportunity, you wouldn't do the same. There wasn't even a concern of STDs or anything because the boys kept the circle closed, save for you. More than anything, you felt like you were being included in the team rather than betraying your partner.

Oh... Uh-... Oh!

You were being brought into the circle. No longer were you John's plus one; you belonged to all of them now and presumably vice versa.

It wasn't until your cheeks started aching that you realised how big you were smiling. But you needed to go one step at a time.

"It might be best if we take this in a few steps," you spoke slowly. Every eye was on you, and every ear was perked. John's arm around your waist tightened. "It's a big shift, and I want to make sure we don't break our necks going too fast. John's next trip is in what? Three weeks? Until then, John and I'll stay here together while you three come visit when you want, but we'll wait until he ships off until you truly take over for a bit. It might help you feel a bit more in control, darling."

Gaz grimaced and Soap pouted, but they nodded and mumbled their agreement that your plan would be the best.

John kissed your temple, his whiskers tickling your eyelashes. "That's very thoughtful of you, love. I'm amenable to that."

"When you say visit when we want," Gaz had a lilt in his voice that feigned indifference to the answer of the question, "You mean whenever we want?"

You started to open your mouth, but John beat you to it, "No nights yet."

"But-" Soap jumped up to argue.

"Let me finish, Sergeant."

Soap pouted again but sat back quietly. You could see the tick in his jaw from the effort.

"No nights yet. We'll have a big pile on the night before I leave. But in the meantime, you'll be over quite a bit. You have a lot of training to go through before I leave her in your hands."

Oh, training. That sounded reasonable.

To be continued...

[girl-lostconnection]

We haven’t circled back to hybrid aus for a long time, let’s fix that. Consider this — avian!141 with gn!Reader.

Rooster!Johnny who has always been the biggest presence in the room, who grins too wide when he notices you picking up his shimmering feathers because you like what you see, don’t you? Colourful plumage on his chest shifts from orange to dark red to almost black, soft feathers cushioning your head when he wraps you in his wings, huffing out air with laughter.

Rooster!Johnny likes his flock and likes his mates, but don’t you remember how territorial chickens are, m’eudail? He could just keep you all to himself, away from the rest and be happy to have all of your attention to himself. All the compliments and all the touches and all the love.

Would you like that? Tell him you like Johnny the best and then you can pluck another feather straight out of him, ‘kay?

Peacock!Price who hates the bloody tail and the staring it always brings, because he is not some show off. Peacock!Price who is used to fold it down and keep it close because you can’t exactly be flashy in his line of work if you don’t want a mercenary to wait for you in your shower when you get back home.

But you stare at him, stubborn and brilliant, arms crossed over the chest and fucking hell, he didn’t want to impress someone that badly since he was a green lad. And maybe that’s why his whole fucking monstrosity of a tail fans out — glimmers with the dozens of ‘eyes’, iridescent and embarrassingly obvious.

The worst thing is — he can’t make it stop, not when you look at it with such awe, because the bloody bird in him is stronger, because he is a weak man and wanted your eyes on him for entirely too long.

“Want a feather?” Price tilts his head, eyes heavy and heat climbing up his face when you quickly blink and look him back in the eyes. Actually dazed at the sight of his tail. “Can give you one. Evening, my bunk.” It is not a question or even an offer, but you bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling too hard and something in his chest is spilling warm and satisfied.

Maybe there are some perks in having this stupid thing.

Eagle!Kyle who likes following you around whenever he has time, who spots you at gym and helps you at gun range. Pokes and prods until you grumble ‘fuck off, Garrick’, his grin widening — his claws graze your skin through the shirt when he pats your arm and has the nerve to huff out ‘easy, mate’.

Eagle!Kyle who has the time of his life chasing you through the building during escape trainings, he is faster than you’d like him to be and quieter than people give him credit for. Kyle catches you 9 times out of 10, but in that 1 time he doesn’t, you’d think Christmas came early with how wide he is smiling. Sweaty and tired, you both are covered in cement dust and scratches from where you took a tumble through the ruined floors.

Eagle!Kyle comes to your bunk more often than others realise, he brings his pillows and blanket — nestles next to you, ignoring the attempts to point out that it’s not a nest for him to construct with you. Kyle tucks you under his side, claws tracing the skin of your lower back when he slips his palm under your T-shirt. Strokes your back up and down, his wing draped over your shoulders to keep you close and warm.

Kyle knows that you will be out cold in a matter of minutes. Kyle knows that with how much you let him get away with, he’s got to be your favourite.

Mourning Dove!Simon who keeps watching you cuddle Johnny and gawk at Price and nest with Kyle. Simon no longer has his wings, not after torture and almost dying, he doesn’t take his mask off and he rarely is in anything other than black clothes covering as much skin as possible.

Mourning dove!Simon doesn’t like pity and doesn’t like the uncomfortable vulnerability. He doesn’t like you having this much power.

He doesn’t like that out of the whole flock he can offer the least. Simon’s feathers are very few nowadays, he isn’t plucking them out to win your favour and can’t offer you a chance to pick out the loose ones. Simon can’t fly and can’t wrap you in his wings, can’t keep you all cocooned and warm.

Simon Riley doesn’t really tell you that he is even an avian hybrid, because really, with how deficient he is, it’s probably best you think that he isn’t. Saves him the pity, the questions and the slimy disgust inside his own chest when he stares at the bathroom mirror and wants to pluck the remaining feathers out for good.

But dove parts of him still resurface when you sit between his legs, back pressed to his chest — head tilted so he can nose at your neck. It’s a subconscious thing at first when he starts nuzzling you there, less so when he rolls the mask up to mouth at your skin.

Barely a nibble, but you still make these short sighs, melting into him and wings he no longer has itch to clap against the back of the couch.

The quiet soft cooing his throat vibrates with when you put away your book and look at him, don’t catch him off guard only because he doesn’t notice them. Simon is too focused on your lips, his arms wrapping around your torso, nose nudges your cheek so you’d tilt your head more.

So he can catch your lips and then let go, nosing at your neck again, chest rumbling when you grow restless.

Mourning dove!Simon is shite at making nests so he lets you do it yourself and just weaves himself into it, content to have you as a weighted blanket — his chest tight when you nose at his neck too.

Doves mate for a very long time and here you are, courting him back like you actually mean it. Like you understand what he is now without the parts that made him appealing, that made him someone, that made him Simon.

There is only Ghost left and yet, you nibble at the skin on his neck, just to glance back up immediately. You are waiting for him to coo again, he realises slowly, jaw pressed together tightly because do you know what it means or do you just think it’s fun?

But the dove in him has been starved for this, the dove in him likes you as much as Simon does and the dove in him isn’t insecure.

“Can I ask something?” You mumble in a vulnerably space under his jaw one evening. Could rip the meat out there and he’d bleed out in a matter of minutes, Simon thinks lazily, his fingers slowly tapping against your ribs. He doesn’t answer but just makes a low questioning hum, too tired after a long mission. Too happy to have you in the nest and you this affectionate.

“Are you a pigeon?” You ask after a beat and Simon stares up at the ceiling for a long moment, some avian pride in him offended because do you think he is a flying rat, love? Is that so? So you don’t like him, that’s what he heard?

“Do I look that awful?” He asks in return, palm now lying on your ribs, up close to your heart so he can feel it rather than know it is there and still beating.

“No, you are rather handsome.” You are so deadpan that is difficult to say whether you are pulling his leg so just to be sure, Simon scoffs and doesn’t say anything. “So not a pigeon?” You try again after a moment and he just makes a short noncommittal sound.

You guessed what kind of eagle Kyle is on the first go and then you assumed Ghost a pigeon? Seems like maybe you don’t like him enough to put in some real effort.

Mourning dove!Simon doesn’t really want to admit to his hybrid half. It doesn’t matter anymore in any case. Simon is hardly anything other than what he is right now.

What’s the point of discussing the irony of his species’ name? What difference is it going to make if you know what he is no longer and never will be?

“I like your cooing.” You say suddenly and Ghost pauses, glancing down at you, his thumb slowly stroking the skin against your rib cage.

“Don’t be daft, luv, I don’t coo.” Simon says because he never did, only you nose at his throat again and it fucking vibrates with another soft cooing sound.

“Then I really like your not-cooing, l.t.” You breathe out in his skin and he can hear the smile in your voice. Simon can feel it when you nibble at his stubble, enjoying yourself so obviously the bloody cooing gets only louder.

Mourning dove!Simon may no longer have wings or abundance of beautiful feathers, he might even not know a thing about making a proper nest.

Mourning dove!Simon can hardly call himself an actual dove nowadays, but maybe there are still parts that he can let you see. And seems like you still want him with or without them.

[capytala]

You Watch Satoru Top Suguru

Summary: When Suguru asks to bottom, you and Satoru take advantage of the opportunity.

CW: MDNI, top Satoru, bottom Suguru, anal, hand job, f!receiving oral, spanking, hair pulling, use of sex toys, threesome, established relationship, poly marriage, squirting, overstimulation, teasing, degradation, self imposed cucking? Ig, masturbation.

WC: 3.9k

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“I want to watch him fuck you, I’ll join later.” You say as you settle yourself at the head of the bed.

Suguru is on all fours facing you and Satoru is standing behind him, lathering his cock with lube.

“I can’t even taste you while he fucks me?” Suguru asks in a distressed tone.

“Maybe,” you pull your panties to the side to give him a glimpse of your wet center. He moans at the sight and drops his head in frustration.

Whenever Suguru asked to bottom, there was always a buzz of excitement between you and Satoru that you couldn’t hide. Watching the man who usually dominated be dominated was intoxicating to witness.

Satoru rubs soothing circles on Suguru’s ass, “Are you ready for me to take it out?”

Suguru nods his head and you can tell his whole body is tense in anticipation.

You watch Satoru’s hand go for the base of the plug, he winks at you before he makes contact. He starts pulling it out, so slowly that it’s making you tense up. Suguru groans to himself as the plug slowly pops out of his hole.

Once the plug is dislodged, Satoru taps it on Suguru’s ass, “Okay, it’s out!” He tosses it to the side of the bed. His left hand grips Suguru’s hip bone and his right is on his throbbing cock.

“Fuck, please go slow… it’s been a while for me.” Suguru murmurs out, his head still dropped to the mattress.

“I can’t make any promises, you know how excited I get to fuck you.” Satoru grins as he puts his tip at Suguru’s entrance. He pumps himself a few times once he’s lined up.

He starts pushing his hips forward and Suguru’s legs are trembling. His hole is being stretched to the max by his husband's thick cock. You watch as his breaths become uneven even though you can tell he’s trying to control them.

“Babe you gotta loosen up. You’re so fucking tight.” Satoru gets out through gritted teeth. He’s already enjoying this.

“I told you it’s been a while, give me a minute.” Suguru whips his head over his shoulder to glare at Satoru.

“Well I’m not even half way in yet and your asshole is already strangling me.” Satoru says with a shit eating grin.

Satoru knew he had a huge dick and he knew how to use it. And he loved watching you and Suguru squirm from the fullness and stretch he put your holes through.

“Sugu, honey, just watch me, okay?” You say in a soothing voice as you pull your panties down past your ass.

His eyes are locked onto you like you are his life line right now. His eyes follow your panties all the way down your legs. Once they’re at your ankles, you kick them off in Suguru’s direction. They fall under his chest and his head falls down to stare at them.

He can see your wetness smeared all over them and the sight makes his cock twitch, “God, you soaked through them already.” He says as his eyes make their way back up to you.

Satoru pushes in another inch in, “Just seeing her soaked panties got you to loosen up some, you’re such a slut.” He lands a smack on Suguru’s ass to emphasize his point.

Suguru’s eyes are heavy and dark as he stares into your soul.

“Should I finger myself or play with my clit first?” You ask in a playful tone.

“F-finger! Finger yourself for me.” Suguru says with a pathetic plea.

You smile at him and place your fingers right at your opening. You graze your middle finger back and forth through your wetness, gathering it on your finger tip.

“Once Satoru’s all the way in, you can have a taste.” You smirk at Satoru and Suguru whines in response.

You push a finger inside your cunt and Suguru’s mouth is salivating at the view. Your back is against the head board, your hair is down and falling past your shoulders. Your feet planted on the bed and legs spread wide to give your husbands the best view.

You moan and your eye lashes flutter at the sensation, enjoying how your finger easily slides inside you. You pump your finger in and out and build a steady rhythm.

Satoru pushes in further, you can tell he’s almost fully in. Suguru moans but isn’t tense anymore. His hole is swallowing Satoru’s cock inch by inch.

“You’re taking him- so well baby.” You pant out while still pumping your finger. Suguru’s eyes are glued to your finger that keeps disappearing inside of you. Satoru’s gaze is focused downward, watching his cock disappear into Suguru.

“Are you feeling good?” Suguru asks with furrowed brows and his mouth stays open once his question is uttered. He looks absolutely famished.

“Of course. You know I love touching myself while I watch.” You extend your leg out and graze your toes along Suguru’s forearm. You can see chills rise up through his skin.

Satoru thrusts his hips forward and bottoms out inside Suguru. Satoru lets out a satisfied “Ah” and moves his other hand to Suguru’s hips, pulling him back onto his cock.

Suguru squeezes his eyes shut and mutters a string of profanities to himself. When he opens his eyes back up, they’re unfocused. It takes him a moment to recenter his eyes to you.

“You’re doing so good for us, Sugu.” You draw your finger out of your center and start to lean forward.

“Do you want to taste me still?” You cock your head and teasingly ask.

“Fuck yes!” He’s begging to taste your arousal that’s coating your finger.

You bring your finger forward and touch it to his lips. He immediately opens up his mouth and sucks your finger in fully. Your breath hitches at his desperation. His hot tongue swirls around your finger. His cheeks are hollowed in with how much suction he’s applying.

You share a knowing glance with Satoru. You both have Suguru wrapped around your fingers right now - literally.

Once you’re sure your finger is clean, you forcefully pull it out from the hard suction with a POP.

Suguru is panting and looking at you like he’s already asking for more. You settle back against the head of the bed and nod to Satoru.

He pulls his hips back and begins thrusting. He’s being nice and taking it slow on Suguru to start.

Both of Suguru’s hands grip the bed sheets and you watch as his shoulder muscles twitch and spasm.

“You’re so big, Satoru. I’m so full.” Suguru is already whimpering from the sensation of Satoru’s thrusts.

After Suguru adjusts to the fullness, he starts pushing back into Satoru when he bottoms out.

Satoru bites his bottom lip and brings his left foot up from the floor, planting it next to Suguru’s knee. Suguru fucked up by showing his neediness this early because Satoru was going to take advantage.

Satoru keeps the same pace but deepens his thrust. His thrusts are now jolting Suguru forward everytime he bottoms out.

“You looove to act like you can’t take my dick, but look at how needy you’re already being. Already pushing back into me and I’ve barely started fucking you.” Satoru is getting high off this feeling and you can tell. He’s getting that feral look in his eyes that makes your stomach jump up into your throat.

You start fingering yourself again and not to feed Suguru, but to feed your own desire that’s growing. You loved to sit back and watch your husbands fuck each other. It never got old and it always got you off.

You moan from your own fingers and the sight in front of you. Satoru looks to you with those feral eyes, “Do you like watching me fuck our husband, y/n?”

You add another finger for more stimulation and are plunging them deep to find your gspot. “Y-yes, you should see his face right now.”

Suguru’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head and there's drool running down the side of his mouth. Your view was so arousing, it gave you gender envy that you didn’t have a cock to fuck Suguru with.

Satoru leaves his left hand on Suguru’s hip and brings his right hand to his loose pony tail. He pulls Suguru’s head back until he’s looking at the ceiling. The new position forces Suguru’s back into a perfect arch.

Satoru picks up his thrusts and begins pounding into Suguru, using his ponytail as leverage to deepen his thrusts. Your eyes are focused on Satoru’s lower stomach, the way his abs flex and spasm from how deep his thrusts are. You can see his silver happy trail peaking up over Suguru’s ass. The veins leading down to his cock are engorged under his pale skin.

Your fingers aren’t doing enough, you turn over in a hurry to your night stand and get out your rose toy.

Satoru doesn’t even see what you’re doing, he’s so focused on fucking into Satoru and making the entire bed move from his efforts.

“You’re not even clenching anymore, you’re staying open for me. You’re taking me so well, pretty boy.” Satoru praises and Suguru cries out in response.

“You’re fucking me so good.” Suguru manages to grunt out.

You turn on your toy and place it directly over your clit. You gasp loudly at the contact and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Baby, let me taste you again. I can make you feel s-so much better than- than...” Suguru can’t finish his sentence, but you know what he was going to say.

“I don’t know, you look kinda busy. Are you sure you can handle both of us?” You’re teasing but you want his tongue on you just as much as he wants to taste you.

“Yes, I-I can handle it, please.” He’s looking at you with the most pitiful eyes. How are you to deny your husband when he looks this fucked out?

You turn off your toy and move your ass down the bed. You get to where you’re lying flat on your back and Suguru’s meal is spread out directly below him.

He tries to keep his balance from Satoru’s thrust. Satoru doesn’t care that Suguru’s trying to split his focus, he’s chasing his high regardless of what Suguru wants to do.

Suguru drops his lower half down and Satoru releases his pony tail. He moves his head to between your legs and you gaze down at the masterpiece below you: Satoru’s feral eyes and evil grin while he fucks into Suguru; Suguru’s pitiful eyes and fucked out look on his face. You could cum right now just from this image alone.

You can hear their balls smacking together and their skin skidding against each other. Suguru brings his lips to your thighs and is trying to be sweet. But Satoru’s aggressive thrusts are making it hard for him to land soft kisses down your thighs. Every time he makes contact, his mouth is forced into your skin.

You grab his hair at the crown of his head and push his head into your throbbing cunt. You don’t need the pleasantries, you need his tongue inside you.

Satoru looks at you with those same feral eyes and is electrified by watching you be pleasured as well. You feel a fire ignite inside you just from the way Satoru is looking at you, as if he’s going to jump over Suguru and start fucking you next.

Suguru’s nose rams into your clit and his tongue is frantically moving through your folds. He’s trying to drink every drop of you he can get. The extra stimulation of his face bucking into you from Satoru’s thrusts is pure euphoria.

“You taste amazing, sweetheart,” he mumbles as if his mouth was full of food (it kinda was).

You grip his hair tighter, you’re squirming beneath him so much. It’s hard for him to keep himself centered between you and Satoru’s movements.

You desperately want to keep your eyes locked on the pornographic scene in front of you, but the pleasure washing over you keeps pushing your head back into pillows.

Suguru’s tongue is working its way inside you and you can’t keep your thoughts straight. His thick tongue is bouncing into your walls, making you clench and bow off the bed.

Suguru’s hand trails up your thigh until he meets your hand. He laces his fingers through yours and looks up at you. His eyes are burning a hole into your soul, as if he’s talking to you without saying a word. You watch as his face muscles move in sync with what you’re feeling his tongue do. You squeeze his fingers every time his nose rubs into your clit. You can’t tell if it’s intentional or accidental. Regardless, it’s sending a shock of electricity through your pelvis each time he does it.

He releases your interlocked fingers and replaces his tongue with two fingers. When he detaches his mouth, there’s a string of his spit and your arousal that follows him. He plunges his fingers fully inside you in one pump and his lips attach to your clit. Your back bows off the bed at the instant ecstasy and your body seizes. He’s applying the same suction to your clit that his mouth was applying to your finger earlier. You cry out and both of your hands fly to the top of his head to hold on.

“Damn Suguru, what are you doing? It looks like she’s already about to cum.” Satoru lands a motivating spank on Suguru’s ass.

Suguru’s moans against your clit are acting as your very own custom vibrator. His deep growls of desire electrify you and his face is still rutting into you from Satoru’s thrusts.

“Su-!” You go to cry out his name, but it gets caught in your throat when his fingers forcefully curl into your g spot. He’s moving his fingers with such force, it feels like he’s trying to pull your gspot out of you.

You don’t even know what you're saying because Suguru’s fingers and tongue have taken full control of you. You’re trying to scream his name, but you’re not sure if it’s coming out coherently. His fingers tips are assaulting your gspot from the inside while his tongue assists from the outside. You start to feel that feeling catch inside you and you know you’re about to be done for. The match has been struck and the first ember is lighting deep inside your core.

“Keep going, I-I’m…” You don’t finish your sentence because you can’t speak anymore. You are so high off this intoxicating pleasure. Suguru understands what you’re experiencing and keeps a steady, thorough pace. He has his fingers and tongue set on autopilot to do the same exact motion to get you to your destination.

You realize you’ve had your eyes shut so tight, you were seeing stars behind your eye lids. You blew your eyes back open and marveled at your husbands. Suguru’s eyes were still locked on you and Satoru is now staring at you. There was sweat matting his silver hair down against his forehead. You could see both of their bodies covered in a thin sheen as well. Your eyes jumped back and forth between the two of them, not knowing who to keep your focus on - they both looked so beautiful right now.

Satoru grins at you like he’s about to land a final blow, “If you’re screaming like that for him, wait until it’s my turn. I’m not anywhere close to being done with either of you.”

And that’s what makes the dam inside you break, literally. The waves start crashing over you so hard, your face is contorting into the most ridiculous shapes. The sensation inside you feels like someone is pressing down into your stomach. You’re letting out cries in between short, ragged breaths. Your eyes are crossed behind your eyelids and the stars are dancing against the darkness.

And then you feel a spurt of warm liquid flood out from your center. It pulses out along with your spasming walls. You hear the fluid hit against Suguru’s face and you can feel the linen beneath you start to retain the moisture. Suguru’s fingers slow down to make room for the impact and Satoru’s stills his thrusting, “Oh my god, that was so fucking hot.” Satoru looks amazed as he stares down at the mess you’ve made all over Suguru’s face and the bed.

You’re still disassociating from the high you were on, it takes you a moment to understand what he was saying. You look down between your legs and see Suguru’s face soaked with your arousal. He’s licking his lips clean while you hold eye contact. Your breaths are shaky and your thighs are trembling from the electricity that just pulsed through you.

Satoru leans over Suguru and grabs his ponytail, “Now that he’s done with you…” Satoru yanks Suguru up and he lets out a yelp. Satoru manhandles his husband, using his ponytail like it’s a leash. Satoru brings Suguru’s chest up and pulls him back until Suguru is sitting on his knees.

You’re still reeling from your orgasm when you realize Suguru is now hovering above you. His soaked mouth falls open while Satoru moves him into their next position.

Once Satoru has them situated, he moves up onto the bed and is kneeling behind Suguru. He wraps Suguru’s ponytail around his hand and moves his other hand to Suguru’s throat. He leans over to Suguru’s ear and whispers, “This is where you’re weak, right?” Satoru begins pistoning his hips into Suguru so hard, it jolts him forward. Before he can fall forward, Satoru gives another tug on his pony tail, “Where do you think you’re going?” Suguru is a whimpering mess beneath Satoru.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch Satoru fuck Suguru stupid. Suguru is trying to moan, but Satoru’s hand on his throat is preventing any noise from coming out. You look down and see Suguru’s leaking cock is bobbing up and down from the force behind him. Every time the tip touches the linen, it leaves a dot of moisture behind.

You push yourself up and crawl over to them. You stand on your knees in front of Suguru and place both hands on his face.

Satoru pipes up, “Coming to join? Fuck - was cumming all over his face not enough?” He’s still holding Suguru in his hands and fucking him relentlessly. You don’t answer, instead you try to steady Suguru’s head and place a soft kiss on his lips. You can still see your arousal covering his mouth and lower face.

You bring one hand down to between his thighs and gently grab his cock. He winces at the contact and his eyes roll back. “What can I do to make you feel good, Sugu?” You coo.

Satoru releases his grip so Suguru can speak, “T-touch me, please please…” He sounds as pathetic as he looks.

You wrap your hand around his cock and swirl your thumb on the tip, “Here?” You ask, feigning ignorance.

Suguru tries to nod his head, but Satoru’s other hand is still holding onto his hair.

“You’re so greedy. Is me fucking you not enough? You need her on your cock too?” Satoru spits out as if he’s disgusted. But you know that’s just part of the act he’s playing up.

You can tell Suguru is reeling from the overstimulation, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to form words, but can’t. Instead of torturing him anymore, you start moving your hand up and down his length to align with Satoru’s thrusts. Satoru is fucking him so hard, you don’t even need to move your hand much. You just place it over his length and let Satoru’s thrusts do most of the work.

Suguru moves his hands to grip onto your hips, his grip will likely leave bruises with how hard his finger nails are digging into your skin. You move forward and rest your chin over Suguru’s shoulder and pucker your lips at Satoru. He releases his grip on Suguru and dives forward, smashing your lips together. He growls at the taste of you and forces his tongue into your mouth. You open to grant him access and moan at the feeling.

You and Satoru are a team effort in wrecking Suguru right now. Your hand is still working his aching cock while Satoru pounds into his fatigued hole. Even though you’re both focused on Suguru, you still need a taste of each other.

Satoru’s tongue motivates you to quicken your movements on Suguru and start to twist your wrist. Suguru shudders at the stimulation and is literally shaking between the two of you. You and Satoru have poor Suguru smashed in between you while you make out over his shoulder.

Satoru notices the incessant shaking and breaks your kiss to move his lips to Suguru’s ear, “Are we too much to handle?” He nips and tugs at Suguru’s gage with his teeth. Suguru sucks in a breath and shakes his head ‘no’.

You put your free hand to his cheek and look at him in pity, “So fucked out you can’t even speak, can you?” You look over to Satoru and share a devilish grin. You drop your hand to make room for your lips and start trailing kisses from Suguru’s cheek to his neck. When you get to his neck, you playfully bite down until he reacts, squirming between you two. Satoru follows and starts working on the other side of Suguru’s neck.

You’re both drinking him in, licking and leaving sloppy wet kisses all over him. You feel Suguru’s cock start to twitch and he hisses to himself.

You keep pumping him at the same pace and try to hit all his spots: kissing behind his ear, tugging on his gage, panting into his ear. Suguru cries out and you can feel his body seize against you. “Shit, shit, oh my god!” He cries out and you feel the first hot spurt of cum slide over your knuckles.

You look down and adjust your grip to get tighter when it moves toward the head to milk every drop out of him. His hips buckle downward and he’s whimpering and crying out both of your names as he finishes all over your hand.

Satoru slows down his thrusts until Suguru has come down from his high. He stills inside him and smacks his ass as he pulls out. You let go of Suguru and your hand is absolutely covered in him. He slouches forward, chest heaving, and trying desperately to catch his breath. You keep your soiled hand down and place your other hand on Suguru’s shoulders. You rub gentle circles to try and ground him.

You look over to Satoru and see his cock is still engorged, “Did you finish?”

“Not yet,” he says with a shrug of his shoulder and moves out from behind Suguru. He makes his way over to you until he is looming over top of you, “Do you think you can squirt on my cock like you did on Sugu’s face?”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Master List

I gooned for 2 whole shifts to bring forth this work of literature. New work hack: writing smut on the clock makes the shift go by way faster.

[mamashima]

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE.

❤︎ SYNOPSIS: Katsuki Bakugō is the textbook definition of a brat. If only Eijirō could get him to shut up while he’s busy and trying to fuck you. read on ao3. 2.2k.

❤︎ CONTENT: kiribaku x reader, voyeurism, “bitch” (between them two, not aimed at you) overstimulation, degradation, vibrator, competition, brat taming, bottom!katsuki, y/n gets called ‘perv’ twice…18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.

❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: y/n lowk takes a back seat on this one, and yk what, that’s my bad—

“AWH, YOU GON’A CUM, RED?”

Katsuki snickers. He lays on his side, hand keeping his head propped and purring like the Cheshire Cat. His hypothetical tail circles overhead, swishing with something satisfied any time Eijirō sounds particularly broken. His thumb swirls against the baby hairs that stick to your forehead with sweat, almost politely, and in an unnecessarily stark contrast to the way he’s treating his boyfriend of five years.

“Shut up,” Eijirō groans with knit eyebrows. He’s pissed because Katsuki is right—he’s always been a sucker for missionary, and with your leg on his shoulder, you fit him a little too well—he’s pissed because Katsuki can read him like a fucking book, and knows how close the redhead is based on the timbre of his voice.

Katsuki Bakugō, in fact, does not shut up.

“’S okay if she's too much for ya to handle,” Katsuki coos. Eijirō glares at him through shorter strands of hair, fucked loose from of his scrunchie with every other thrust.

You’re not, but the way your thighs wrap around his waist and your hands paw at his chest, you might be. But, no one needs to know that—least of all Katsuki Bakugō, who‘s now reclining like sheets like it’s a casual Thursday night. “Lemme know if ya need me to take over.”

Eijirō opts to ignore him instead.

“How’ya feeling, Pretty,” he pants, disregarding Katsuki’s pout in his peripheral in favor of looking into your eyes—blown wide and begging, shimmering with crystalline tears pricking the corners. You whine a ‘good’ past every expletive under the sun. Finding leverage beneath your thighs, Eijirō lifts your hips up and slightly to the right. Suddenly, you’re scrambling against the mattress, head lolling and drooling on the sheets, and yeah, there’s no way he’s gonna last.

Then, he feels blunt nails drag against his back. Nails that don’t belong to you, because he’s watching yours tear into Katsuki’s pillowcase. Eijirō’s back flexes violently, involuntarily, and he doubles over, barely catching himself on big hands bracketing your head.

“Dude, what the f-fuck,” he manages through grit teeth and a growl. You wail after a particularly hard thrust. Eijiro‘s torn between urges, watching you cum on his cock versus preserving his own ego—and Katsuki is hell-bent on preventing him from doing both. Clearly satisfied with the reaction, Katsuki does it again—savage and sharp and stinging against his back enough to leave red hot stripes on raised skin. Eijirō shudders, the world going white for a split second, before he’s shoving the blond away. With an amused hum, his boyfriend falls back into the bed.

“Fuckin’ watch’em sweat, Sweetheart,” Katsuki says to you, lifting your chin to unglue your eyes from Eijirō’s chest. With a faux pout, he shakes your head—and you’re so limp in their arms that you let him. “‘N he had the audacity to drag me for last Friday.”

Oh…That’s what this is about.

Eijirō snarls as the knot in his belly rolls tight, trying to ignore the irresistible urge of contest, because they’re too old for this, and more importantly, he’s too horny for this.

“Yeah, ‘cuz you were whining like a bitch,” Eijirō chuckles bitterly without giving Katsuki a second glance. You lean into Eijirō’s hand as he caresses your face. “Color, Baby?”

“G-Green, Eiji,” you mewl, unsteadily combing the hair out of his face. “An’ I—I need t’cum again.”

But, before Eijirō can get excited, before he can puff out his chest and sweet talk you into oblivion, Katsuki’s rough voice in his ear again, in an attempt to make Eijirō’s life infinitely harder.

“‘S he too big, Baby?” Katsuki says, now mocking the both of you—though he’s much nicer to you, rubbing your temples and peppering short kisses into your cheek. “Too full?”

Eijirō glares at his menace of a boyfriend, who dares to give it right back. With a huff, Eijirō’s forced to look away in favor for finding your clit. You react instantly—a lovely little distraction—and the legs wrapped around his waist drop.

“Y’got him impatient, now,” Katsuki mutters into the shell of your ear, ensuring it’s just loud enough for the redhead to hear. He watches Katsuki bite your earlobe and pull, and Eijirō swallows the whine building in the back of his throat. “Yer gon’a cum, ‘n do that cute li’l thing you do where your pussy just fuckin’ squeezes, ‘n he’s gon’a fill you up so quick—jus’ watch.”

And, on any given day, Eijirō would. But now, he’s got a point to prove and his ego won’t let him cum until he has. Hopefully.

“Shut. Up,” Eijirō growls, and without giving it much thought, shoves Katsuki’s face into the pillow next to you before redirecting his attention to the more tolerable person in the room. He quickens the pattern on your clit in favor of losing it all together “Hey, pretty baby—gorgeous girl—you wouldn’t mind if I fucked you through one more, do ya? Can you do that f’me?”

You nod eagerly, and Katsuki scoffs with unbelievability through squished cheeks. “He’sh a fuckin’ liar. Shitty assh top.”

Your stomach rolls, back arches, and suddenly you’re cumming with a squeal. You clamp down on him with a persistence that has Eijirō’s hand scrambling from Katsuki’s face to your waist as he grits his teeth to ground himself. His hips stutter to a halt and his fingers squeeze your hips with something bruise-worthy, something he’ll feel like shit for in the morning—but right now, he’s focused on one thing. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum—

“Open yer eyes, Princess,” Katsuki says as if his face wasn’t just buried in a pillow. “Look at ‘im, tryn—“

Katsuki cuts himself off with his own choke, scarlet eyes rounding when Eijirō shoves a hand around his throat and squeezes.

You let out a little breathless giggle. Katsuki adjusts to the situation like a champ, and though glaring, flutters his eyelashes. Eijirō curses at himself—first, for not thinking of this earlier. Secondly, because of Katsuki keeps looking at him like that, he’s going to lose his fucking mind. Katsuki seems to hear it, because his eyes glitter with something devious as he slips a crooked smile.

He figures he should let Katsuki breathe at some point, but before he can let go, the blond’s adams apple starts rumbling to you under a loosening palm.

“Y’like watching us fight, Perv,” he says with a raspy chuckle, licking his lips. Eijirō feels a pang of disappointment by the fact that Katsuki can talk at all, before an idea he’s genuinely proud of comes to mind.

“Baby,” Eijirō sing-songs with a slow roll of his hips, unwiling to lose himself in you again quite yet—not until Katsuki’s attitude has been handled proper. “Will you reach behind ya and grab something for me? Pretty please?”

“Mhm. What’cha need, Eiji?” You say with a whine and nod, propping yourself up on your elbows. You’re glowing and so unequivocally stunning that Eijirō’s convinced that word was made just for you.

His hips stutter when he looks at your face too long—he needs to make this quick.

“Grab the—mm—grab the vibe, Sweetheart,” he moans, halting his hips so you can reach behind the pillow. Katsuki pulled it out earlier, probably planning to use it to be an asshole, but quickly, clearly, forgot about it. Eijirō did not.

You hum and smile, probably expecting it to be used on you (which it typically is, save for special occasions…like now) and he’d hate to disappoint a pretty lady, but, like he said—he’s got a point to prove. Eijirō lets go of Katsuki’s throat, and the blond coughs, rubbing his larynx through the skin with a scowl before grunting ‘dickhead’ below his breath.

Now, much colder, Eijirō turns to his problem. “Kat—lay down.”

Katsuki scoffs, sitting up higher just to spite him. “Fuck you, y’don’t tell me what to fuckin’ do, bitch.”

It’s times like this that Eijirō is very thankul to be the bigger boyfriend.

“I said,” he huffs, grabbing Katsuki by the throat and shoving his back into the mattress. He tries to ignore the way he shifts inside you from the effort. “Lay down.”

There’s a beat of silence. Katsuki clicks his tongue, rolls his eyes, looks away. But, when Eijirō lets go? He stays.

“Good boy.”

“Fuck you.”

Eijirō gives you an exasperated sigh, grabbing the wand from your hands. Fiddling with the adjustments, he mutters, inattentive, “Don’t give a man attention for like, five minutes, and he’s practically begging for it.”

“Oi, ‘m not fucki—”

“Pants off, Katsuki,” Eijirō heaves, sorely disinterested in anything the blond has to say other than what he wants to hear. But, Katsuki doesn’t move at all, save for crossing his arms to accentuate his ‘not pout’ as his stare into the corner of the room deepens.

“Fine, then.”

Eijirō turns the vibrator on its highest setting, and places it at the tip of the bulge in Katsuki’s grey sweats.

Katsuki’s body seizes and his hands rush to push at Eijirō’s wrists. There’s a slight struggle, but not enough for Eijirō to believe Katsuki actually wants him to stop.

“See, Princess? This is all he wanted,” Eijirō juts his bottom lip out. You watch with a slack jaw, wiping at your lips in case of drool, and still wiggling your lower half to coerce Eijirō into moving. He shushes, rubbing at the inside of your hip. You get the message—not yet.

Not until he’s broken Katsuki Bakugō down a considerable degree.

“F-fuck, Red, turn—turn it down I—“

“Awh,” Eijirō clicks his tongue, leaning in just so he can see his eyebrows knit the way he loves so much. A dark spot starts to form on Katsuki’s grey sweatpants, changing the pitch of the vibrator once as he soaks through the fabric—and Eijirō‘s suddenly (always) very thankful that Katsuki refuses to wear boxers around the house. “Gonna cum, Kat?”

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, choking on a moan. Impatiently, you buck your hips again, this time whining louder, and Eijirō chuckles in apology. “Mm, sorry Baby. Suppose I should show my attention to the one that actually deserves it, huh?”

“I-I—I fuckin’,” Katsuki‘s neck flexes and his hips jerk, “d-deser—ve sh-shit, asshole—”

“Oh yeah, he’s gonna cum alright,” Eijirō chuckles to you, and Katsuki’s ears go red with admission. “And then, I’m going to give you—my sweet girl—the orgasm of your fucking life, and he’s gonna be too tired to do anything other than sit and watch—silently. Good deal?”

You nod, vehemently, adjusting so you can run your fingers through Katsuki’s matting hair. Katsuki leans into your gentle touch as much as he can. And Eijirō, feeling like the blond is getting too comfortable, adjusts the angle of his wrist.

“Fuck!”

There it is.

With a chuckle, Eijirō begins moving the wand in small, slow circles, something akin to what he’d do to you—and it has Katsuki choking on air.

“This s-shit isn’t even fuck-fuckin’ fair,” Katsuki pants, placing a shaky hand over his face. Eijirō tuts and moves it out of the way, shoving it above his head and holding it there.

“What isn’t fair?” Eijirō pouts, adjusting his hips to make sure he stays inside of you. “The vibrator? Or is it the fact that I win every—”

He pushes down harder. Katsuki’s eyes flutter closed.

“—fucking—”

Eijirō pushes again.

“—time?”

Finally, he lets the vibrator just sit, placing the brunt of his strength on the thing. Katsuki’s hands scramble back to his wrist, but he doesn’t try to push Eijirō away. At all.

“Feel good, Kat?” Eijirō croons, petting the inside of his wrist. Katsuki bites his lip, but doesn’t answer.

“I said—” Eijirō drops all sweetness from his voice and grinds the vibrator again. “Does it feel good, Katsuki?”

“I—yeah, yes—fuck,” Katsuki admits through a poor and thin veil of frustration. You start leaving wet kisses on his neck, leaving him shuddering under your wake.

“Shitty Hair—Eijirō, kiss—please.”

Katsuki always gets needy when close, wants to kiss when he cums. You tighten your grip on blond hair to tug lightly, and Katsuki whimpers, bucking into the toy like it’s suddenly not enough. Eijirō hums, leaning in until he can feel Katsuki puff on his lips.

“No.”

And, Katsuki cums. Hard.

His jaw drops and his mouth rounds, and at first nothing comes out—then he lets out something loud and obscene, followed choked out whine. His eyes go tumbling to the back of his head as the wet spot in his sweats dampens dramatically. Finally, his hips stutter, and he moans out a small and broken ‘fuck.’ Eijirō turns the vibrator off, swallows. That was hot.

“Well,” Eijirō pats his boyfriend’s chest after composing himself with a shuddering inhale, feeling the sweat through the cotton fabric of his black tee. “What did we learn?”

Katsuki grumbles something Eijirō can’t hear, but it makes you laugh. He rolls onto his side, back facing the both of you, and flips him off. Nothing—per usual.

“Kat, y’gotta go ‘n change or you’ll be pissed tomorrow,” Eijirō nudges. He gets a weak ‘in a bit,’ in response, and rolls his eyes, knowing that means he’s going to end up doing most of the work.

“Sorry Baby, I got a little carried away,” Eijirō redirects his attention back to you and adjusts his hips, expecting you to be somewhat dry (because, let’s be clear: he’s still rock solid) but his eyes widen in pleasant surprise as he notices how easy the shift is. “Oh? Kat was right—you are a perv.”

“Shut up,” you whine, slapping him on the bicep. Eijirō chuckles.

“One brat down—one to go.”

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

[i-liketoast]

me stalking the x reader tag of my favourite characters because I refuse to use c.ai

[science-hoes]

Anyways

[pinksplace]

I can’t stop thinking about Simon Riley

Simon Riley who has these big hands, hardened by war and calloused from murder.

Simon Riley with a permanent ache in his shoulder from the kickback of a rifle.

Simon Riley who’s lower back hurts every time he crouches into position.

Simon Riley with knees that click everytime he crouches.

Simon Riley with chafed inner thighs from the rough material of tac pants.

Simon Riley with shoulders tensed up to his ears.

Simon Riley who really, really, really needs a massage.

It’s Gaz who gives him your card, clicks his tongue and tells him “Trust me, bird’s got magic hands.”

Simon Riley who stares at it for two weeks, insisting it’s something for girls, nothing that a man like him would ever need.

Then his back goes out.

Two days of fucking agony, stuck on the shitty base couch because he can barely stand long enough to get back to his quarters.

Two days of wishing he’d just been fucking shot, at least then the med bay would give him the good drugs.

He crawls onto your table with a grunt and the words “Firm pressure.”

Then you touch him.

Like silk, your hands smooth over his muscles, needing every tight spot you can find until the knots come loose under your fingers. 

You take him apart with pressure so firm it’s almost painful, your elbow digging into his tailbone as you work over a particularly stubborn spot.

Simon Riley who’s so fucking vocal the whole time.

He groans, moans, even whimpers into the headrest. Simon who jumps against the table when you start to work on his upper traps.

Simon Riley who cums in his fucking boxers when you make his neck crack.

Like an out of body, third person experience he blows his load just as the tension releases.

It’s unmistakable, his choked noise and the way his entire body goes rigid.

Never mind how he reaches out and grabs your thigh with a grip tight as steel when it happens.

Simon Riley who leaves two hundred dollars in cash and his phone number on the table when he leaves. Along with a little note in his chicken scratch-

“Do you do house calls?”

[kamiflix]

▶︎︎︎︎ AITA for fucking both of the Gojo twins?

synopsis . In which you get fed up with Sato (fratjo) for playing around with you and unintentionally get involved with his identical twin brother Toru (nerdjo), not knowing they’re simply two sides of the same coin. content . afab!reader, porn with decent plot, messy relationship(s), fratjo’s an asshole in the beginning, bluntness, pervy!nerdjo, eventual threesome, degrading, oral sex, first time squirting & then doing it multiple times, getting caught, surprising dynamics, praise, pussy slapping, getting put in a headlock, confessions, filthy dirty talk, jealousy, marathon sex (gulp), spit, slightly bimbo!reader, choking, nerdjo is feral, full nelson, edging, getting passed around, frajo’s a voyeur, filth, slight angst, cum eating/swallowing, some cuckholding(?), masturbation, a silly ending, etc.

word count . 11.4k | author's note: this ended up being wayyyy longer than i initially thought it would be and it’s overly freaked the fuck out. hope you enjoy!! banner art by Rororogi Mogera. (not proofread—sorry in advance, truly)

In your defense, you didn't think he would care.

Sato Gojo—esteemed member of Sigma Chi, infamously known for his commitment issues, and noted to be the campus playboy—was the last person you thought would care about you sleeping with his twin brother.

Hell, he's also the last person who expected that same brother to be able to get this far with you. Toru is the shyest, dorkiest, and nerdiest part of the Gojo family, what could he possibly have done to catch your eye?

Sato had done his best to keep you away from and unaware of his six-second-younger brother's existence too. Yet somehow, here he is walking in on the two of you fucking in his bed.

Less upset at the sight and more confused, the only thing he wants to know is... what the fuck led up to this pairing?

——

For months and months prior to that, it'd been the same thing between you and Sato.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me, baby. You know you’re my favorite,” He’d say, cooing you with that manipulatively charming voice of his after you’d asked him about yet another woman he was talking to.

You weren't sure why you kept going back to him. He never told you how he felt about you unless he was inside you—and even then you’re certain those feelings were all sex-based and moderately untrue.

Yet something about him kept drawing you back in.

And if you had to guess what exactly it was...

“Fuuck, y’like that don’t you?” He’d groan, having one big hand clasped around your throat as he plowed you into the mattress. Sato rarely ever took his time during sex, too eager to make sure you cum & keep up his reputation of being a good fuck. “Like the way my cock kisses that sweet spot, huh?”

The rhythmic sound of his pelvis smack smack smacking! against your ass echoes throughout the room at a pitch almost louder than your sapped moans. “Mhmm,” You'd hummed in response, fingernails dug into the bedsheets below.

You couldn't bring yourself to think about all the other women that's been in this same exact position before you when his cock was far too busy gliding in and out of your soaking pussy. The same sheets your fingers are clawing at is also clasped in between your teeth tightly, drool wetting up the fabric pathetically due to how good you felt.

Only to be rudely interrupted by his hand gripping at your neck tighter and then tugging the upper half of your body allll the way up—his chest pressing into your back while his dick massages the gushiest spot inside you. “Don’t do that,” Sato huffs with that shit-eating grin on his face, “Speak up, pretty girl. I couldn't hear you.”

“Uhuhh, yes,” You pant, tongue beginning to dangle out of your mouth all whorishly, “I love it, Sato.”

Cocky like always, he'd let off that amused scoff and then nip at your ear playfully, “Yeahh, I know you do. Jus’ can’t get enough of me.”

Thinking back again, he had the biggest ego you’d ever seen.

Sato was tenderly humping the rest of his thick cock into you while you were nice and close, just to realize after the first few thrusts that you were trying to inch yourself away from him—your moans getting airier by the second.

His smile widened, “Hah, where’re you goin’?” He'd only made you cum three times since the two of you got here. Surely that wasn't enough to have you acting like this already. “Look at you, trying to run from me now," Sato scoffed with faux bitterness.

You barely got a moment to process what he was doing before you choked.

Warm lips pressing against your ear, “C’mon, I jus’ want one more outta’ you,” He purred, his arm slow to wrap around your neck while his bulking muscles pressed into the center of your throat. Whatever oxygen was on its way to your head all but died out as the man put you into a bullying chokehold and then flexed.

Your cunt squeaked juicily around him and his cockhead nudged in deeper because of the hold he had on you, otherwise rendering your body unable to escape.

That was one of many reasons why you always ran back to him. If Sato Gojo didn't know how to do anything else right, he damn sure knew how to fuck.

“Mhmm, that’s it, baby." His voice was huskier against your eardrums now and you felt your body shuddering with a sense of numbness as something slicker oozed around his shaft. "Take that fuckin’ cock—juuust like that.”

His thrust became slower while he held you in place and you'd never felt so full in your life. It wasn't until he suddenly snapped up into you that all air left your lungs and your eyes crossed.

Whatever sound you let out was beyond pathetic and only followed by a desperate, “S’too much,” that he could barely hear.

Rolling his eyes, he repeated the motion a few more times at a steady pace, letting you adjust to being arched and folded up how he wants you. “My dramatic girl, acting like you haven't been taking it just fine," He reminded you.

You almost believed him for a moment there until his free hand came snaking around your torso to press against your lower abdomen—right over the bulge his fat cock had created against your skin—and applying an egregious amount of pressure.

“M’gonna cum, Sato,” You cried out as his fingers slithered down to nudge against your clit. Never a firm rub or anything like that since he felt like his cock alone was enough to work what he wanted out of you.

He’d smile all victoriously and whisper, “That's it? Don't tell me you're still too scared to squirt on me?”

Truth be told, that was the one thing he couldn’t do for some reason.

He never said anything but he thinks maybe you’re just one of those women who need a little more effort put into in order to make you squirt. More effort of which he damn sure doesn’t feel like putting in.

Four orgasms in a row? That’s fine, he can do that no problem. Making you squirt? As badly as he wants to deep down inside, he just can’t.

You ended up leaving a creamy mess around his cock but it's not the spurting stream of wetness he was hoping for. After letting you tremble out of your high, he's slow with the way he unwraps his arms from around you.

You fall forward onto the bed and let out a heavy breath before smiling wearily in relief. No other guy on campus ever managed to make you cum even once so of course you didn't think much of the fact that Sato couldn't make you squirt.

Hell, you were unknowingly on the same page with him—thinking you might've needed extra effort put in for that kinda release. Which was fine, you didn't need that much from him. The fact that he could make you cum back to back was more than enough in your book.

Not his though.

Sato hated it. He hated how he couldn't make you squirt—the fact burned at his ego and wounded his pride greatly. He's made other women do it so he doesn't understand what the problem is. There were some nights where he wondered if maybe he was doing something wrong with you. Or maybe you'd found someone else who could—

He unknowingly scoffs at his thoughts, shuffling out of the bed and swiping up the nearest clean sweats to slip into. Who was he kidding? There isn't one other person on campus you'd go to over him.

And if he couldn't make you squirt, he knows there's no one else that could.

Amid his deep thoughts, you happen to look over and catch the way those white brows of his are neatly knitting together. He didn't even realize how his true feelings on the matter were written all over his face.

Your eyes had ran over him a couple times, pondering on all the scratch marks in various places. Places that your hands haven't touched.

And that's how the routine was with the two of you; high tension all throughout the day, let him fuck you 'til all your senses went numb, and then fade into quietness with little to talk about since Sato doesn't deem it necessary to get close with you in that way.

When you catch the way he's dragging his feet around the room, trying to clean the mess of clothes you two made prior to getting in the bed, your brows lifts with curiosity. Asking gently, "Hey, are you alright?"

Sato hums without turning around to you, running his a hand through his hair as if stressed out. "Yeah, m'fine." He grunts, glancing over at you after and adding a slightly comforting, "Are you?"

You nod in response to him and he stares for a moment longer than necessary, still deep in his thoughts about something he surely wasn't sharing with you anytime soon.

Why would he? You didn’t need to know that he was beating himself up over something so stupid. He’s well aware that he’s the best guy to ever sleep with you so, opening up to you about something so trivial wasn’t in his character.

There’d been jokes and banter between the two of you before—obviously—but it never went any further than that. The moment things threatened to dip into something real, something more tender or honest, Sato would shut it down with quick precision.

Which is exactly why you didn't try pressing for more of this dry conversation. Instead, you silently watched him tug a shirt over his head and then head over to the nightstand for his phone.

He's busy texting someone for a bit before he releases a huff and turns his head to see the way you've been quietly watching him, "Did you want me to run you a bath or—"

"No, no, I told you, I'm fine," You unintentionally cut off.

You weren't sure where the awkwardness had come from but it wasn't completely unwelcome since there was clearly something he wasn't telling you. You saw it in the way he pouted all grumpily just before looking at you.

Whatever was on his mind had to be eating him up on the inside.

Not that the frown pushed you to ask him anything else though. You ended up turning over and rolling off is bed a few minutes later to gather your things and leave, to which he'd peacefully helped you with.

Then Sato escorted you all the way out of his maze-like home and was "kind" enough to give you a kiss on the forehead before sending you off.

Little things like that always caught you off guard. Your heart would do that weird thing in your chest as you wondered if there was a possibility of experiencing more than just hook-ups with the man.

Though, reality is quick to slap you back to your senses when you see him with his arm around some other woman the next day while on your way to class.

You knew better than to get emotionally attached to Sato Gojo. Everyone did.

——

Some days later is when shit decides to hit the fan between you two.

It happens so randomly that you almost feel as though you dreamt the whole thing up. The day starting with him texting you to come over that night and somehow ending with you in thwarted tears.

In all the time you spent with Sato, there'd never been a moment where he was blatantly selfish. Something of which surprised you in the beginning of your relationship since he was known to be a fuckboy.

Yet, ending up in his bedroom for the nth time, as his thumb rubbed at your clit with unsteady, jerky motions, appearing otherwise annoyed about something—Sato had been selfish for the first time with you.

Foreplay was skipped entirely and you should've known something was up from that alone.

The most you got out of him prior to being stripped of your clothing was a messy kiss and a barely audible, "Need somethin' from you, baby," grunted into your mouth.

Then you were being carried all the way up to his bedroom, handled frustratedly down into the mattress, and soon fucked at a rate you weren't used to.

His thrusts were sloppy and needy, voice quiet since he didn't bother talking you through it or saying anything at all, and the only thing with a sense of normalcy to it was the way his thumb nudged over your clit as his cock dove in and out of you.

Midway through, you assumed he just had a bad day or something. Figured he wanted to take some of that stress out on you.

And that wasn't out of the ordinary for him, it's happened more often than not.

But as his thumb drew desperate circles around your twitching bud, Sato's cock twitched and he pulled out the moment you were about to cum. You were too dazed by his abrupt action that you nearly missed the way he stroked himself into finishing on your stomach and then scoffed. Bitterly.

Your eyes were glossed over since the taste of your own orgasm had been right there on the tip of your nerves, stripped away from you faster than you could blink.

Whatever had been bothering him about having sex with you was felt before it was understood.

He was already turning away by the time you pushed yourself to sit up, the sheets gliding down your arms as you watched him with wide, teary eyes. The room felt ten times quieter than it normally did. You saw how he crossed the room as if nothing had happened—as if this was just another unremarkable moment to be shrugged off.

"Sato," You say, his name tripping in your throat on the way out.

Only then did he pause, fingers curled around his drawer handle. Not sparing you a glance back, "What." he breathed out.

It was hardly even a response, more of a wall you'd audibly stumbled into. You'd never heard his voice so dull and flat with you.

Swallowing down whatever confusing emotions were building up in your throat, "Did I, um... did I do something wrong?"

Somehow that gets his attention. He glances back over his shoulder then, expression insipid and eyes casting over you all bored-like. "Don't start that," He said, irritation weaving into his voice, "You're overthinking shit already."

Your mouth opens to say something but it's like you'd been slapped in the face, leading your lips to seal shut for a second. His words were too heavy for you, coming off with weighted dismissiveness.

After a few beats, your words trail out slowly, "Sorry I'm a little confused, Sato. You asked me to come over for that..?"

He exhaled sharply, like the question itself had tired him, "What else do I ever call you over for?"

Something shrewd twisted in your chest, "Certainly not whatever the fuck that was just now."

Sato finally turned more fully and leaned back against his dresser, crossing his arms and letting his eyes meet yours firmly. "You sound upset."

"I feel used," You'd snapped back immediately.

His brow twitched, "'Cause I didn't make you cum?"

Again, the words came off blunt and careless.

Leading you to flinch internally, "I mean—yeah," You said as a humorless breath tiptoed out, "You normally do."

"Well, I didn't feel like it today. M'spent." He scoffed out.

It was almost as if that was supposed to be an explanation for everything.

You stared at him and felt the way your disbelief began to fade into something of anger, "You could've told me that."

"Would that have made you feel any better?" Every response came out of him like he'd rehearsed the entire conversation beforehand.

"We could've done something different," Your hands began to curl into the sheets a little, trying to steady yourself. "I could've-"

"I didn't want anything different." Sato cut off crisply.

You'd never been so utterly confused in your life. Everything was fine before this—for the most part—so what had come over him all of a sudden? Why was he acting like this?

The finality in his statement only made your stomach drop, your head shaking slowly in disbelief, "...So you wanted to use m-"

"No, sweetheart," The pet name sounds empty on his tongue, lacking its usual affection. "I wanted you to see how it feels to get into something thinking things are going to go like they always do, just to feel disappointed by the end."

The next sound that spreads throughout the room is your laughter as it exits you in incredulous fashion, "Sato, what the fuck are you talking about?"

He dragged a hand through the white tuffs of his hair, pacing only once before coming to a stop. "You..." Letting his words trail off, he released a long and stressed-out sigh, "Every woman I've been with has never had the problem you do."

That hits you square in the chest.

Head cocking back as you frown with immediate offense flaring over, "Excuse me? Are you... are you talking about squirting, Sato? You can't be serious."

"I am," He said without hesitation. "If it's just something you can't do, I'd rather you tell me than making me look like an idiot when we fuck."

"What?" Your eyes narrowed as your anger bled into something strictly hurt. "I... I'm sure I can. Maybe we're just doing something wro-"

"We?" Sato cuts you off instantly. Then his tone seemed firmer and you knew he didn't think things through when he said, "No, no, you've got shit backwards here. I can assure you I'm not doing anything wrong, that's all you."

Something inside you finally boiled over.

"All me?" You scoffed, pushing yourself out of the bed. The cold air wrapping itself around you felt like even more of a wake-up call than what he'd just said. "Oh, sorry for not being like all the other twenty girls you sleep with."

Grabbing your clothes with uncoordinated and janky movements after wiping away any lingering trace of what had happened, you subconsciously wished you could've erased the moment entirely from start to finish. Your hands trembled as you got dressed, seemingly more from the heated emotions waving through you than the embarrassment.

Sato stiffened upon hearing your words. For the first time—probably in his life—his confidence had cracked. "Shit—wait," He rushed out, trying to step towards you and stop you from leaving.

It was almost like he himself wasn't aware of how severely fucked up his actions and words were.

His hand reached out for your arm, "I-I didn't mean it like that, c'mon. I just—"

"Save it, asshole." You spat back at him, shoving his hand out the way and storming out his room before giving him a chance to say anything else.

He'd said more than enough to have your vision blurry and heart pounding in your chest as if pained.

The hallway was dim, your footsteps quickened to carry you as far away from him as possible, and your emotions buzzed all too loudly in your ears for you to think straight. You think you hear something clash against the wall back in Sato's room but you ignore it.

You're so wrapped up in your feelings that you're not even paying attention to where you're going. You only made it a few steps down the hall before you collided with something solid.

Someone solid.

Gasping as you stumble back, a pair of hands come up to steady you. "Ah, sorry," a voice hums out to you. The sound is soft as it reverberates throughout the hallway but your chest feels as though it's caving inwards since the guy in front of you sounded exactly like Sato.

There was a pitch of unfamiliarity in it, though. One that made you look up.

For a moment, you thought maybe you'd fallen off the bed earlier and that everything thus far had been some type of hallucination because surely Sato wasn't standing right in front of you right now.

...Except, with glasses? And a dorkier look in his eyes?

With the same snowy white hair, the same perfectly sharp jawline—that's somehow a tad softer—and the same dazzling blue eyes, he stared at you all longingly as if an angel had fallen right into his arms or something. The only difference between him and his brother being the black glasses sitting center on the bridge of his nose.

Despite the hallway's lack of lighting, you swear you see his cheeks flush with red as the moment of exchanged staring passes.

Prior to this, you'd only ever heard rumors of Sato having a twin brother but you never once imagined those would turn out to be true. The man's eyes widen slightly as he really looks at you, confusion flickering across his face whilst he takes in your flushed skin, the way your clothes are hanging off of you as though you'd rushed to put them all, and how your eyes are somberly glossed over.

"I-," You try to blink that wetness out of your gaze and then clear your throat. "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's fine," He replies as he thoughtlessly continues to hold onto your arms. Then, uncertainly, "You're... Sato's, uh—"

"Sato's what?" You cut off harsher than you meant to.

There was no way he was about to refer to you as that asshole's girlfriend or anything like that, right?

His mouth visibly goes taut, realizing he was about to step into something fragile. Instead of responding, he just stands there awkwardly enough to piss you off even more.

Groaning, you push past him and continue storming down the hall. You didn't have time for whatever that was about to turn into.

Unbeknownst to you, he'd stood there and watched as you walked away—cursing himself out for letting his opportunity to talk to you pass him by like that. He'd known who you were for months prior to this. Out of all the women Sato brought over, you were the only one Toru took a genuine interest in.

It's unfortunate for him that Sato's a stingy asshole who doesn't care to introduce the two of you. Because of that, Toru had to go out of his way just to get glimpses of your personality.

He was always home when Sato brought you over, always in his room that's just one wall over while the two of you fucked—listening and secretly getting off to those gorgeous moans you let off. Toru knew it was perverted of him to do so, but he truly couldn't help himself.

Now here he is with sagging shoulders at the fact that he totally fucked up his first interaction with you.

He heard the whole argument between you and his brother and came out into the hallway hoping to come to your rescue or at least cheer you up, even if only for a second. Yet, all he managed to do was piss you off with his awkwardness and lack of confident social skills.

After a few minutes, Toru straightens up and settles his jaw in a way that says he'd made some type of silent decision. That wasn't going to be the last time he interacted with you—no matter how badly his brother fucked up—he knew you'd be back eventually.

As he turns back to his room, he promises to himself that next time he sees you, he won't hesitate or fumble things with you.

——

A few weeks pass before anything else noteworthy occurs.

In that time, things between you and Sato remain rocky, to say the utmost least. Conversations between the two of you were more careful, apologies came far slower than they should've, and some semblance of trust had been rebuilt in uneven steps.

Sometimes he was sweet and more attentive than he had been before that big argument, kinda like he was afraid it'd happen again. Other times he'd slip up and those old habits would seep through, any excuse he gave you dressed up charmingly enough for you to ultimately end up forgiving him again.

The fact that you both were trying had to be enough to count for something, otherwise the two of you were better off calling it quits months ago.

Somewhere in the middle of that relationship, Toru became familiar to you. You went out of your way to see him whenever you visited the Gojo estate, even if you were only there for Sato.

He was almost always cooped up in his room, drowning himself in his studies—textbooks stacked neatly on his desk, handwritten notes color-coded and meticulously organized.

It wasn't long before you realized he and his brother were complete opposites. Where Sato excelled in partying and socializing, Toru peaked in academics and hobbies that were far more niche.

You remember poking your head into his room one time to say hi and catching him lost in Digimon reruns with strategy guides pulled up on his nearby laptop. He was so engrossed in it that he hadn't even heard you saying something to him.

Situations like that are what got the two of you to be something close to friends.

Though, you still didn't know him any more than you knew Sato. You were still kept at an arm's length from either of their personalities beyond what was noticeable. Sato made sure of that where both he and his twin were concerned.

While he did soften up with you, he still wasn't interested in keeping you that close—not close enough to know him. And he damn sure wouldn't let you go off and try to find that in Toru.

Anytime you and the nerdier Gojo sibling were alone, Sato was intruding minutes later. Always interrupting.

Even when you ran into Toru on campus.

One time when you found him outside the library, standing near a vending machine and ran up to talk to him, Sato seemed to spawn out of thin air with his arm around you is if to silently tell his brother to fuck off.

You weren't sure what had gotten into him as far as that was concerned. He didn't care when you talked to anyone else.

This was but another unfortunate thing for you since you were quite fond of Toru. He remembered little things about you; your major, your favorite cafe, and even your preferred place to sit in lecture halls.

If you asked Sato questions about any of those things, he'd probably shrug and ask you why any of it matters in the first place.

But you bet that dick for brains could tell you which position makes you cum the fastest...

It's regrettably because of that as to why you're currently standing at the large front doors to his home, having rung the bell only a few seconds ago due to an earlier text requesting you come over.

In said text, Sato promised that he only wanted to talk to you and you chose to believe him.

Just for Toru to swing the door open with a surprised look on his face.

"Oh, hey." He began, pushing his glasses further up on his face so that he could get a proper look at you. "If you're looking for Sato, he's not here. I actually think he's been gone for the past three hours or so."

Disappointment settles into you and you roll your eyes, already annoyed. "Of course he has," You sigh.

Toru offers you a half-comforting grin before stepping back a bit and opening the door wider for you, "He'll probably be back soon though, if you wanna come in?"

You debated leaving but the prospect of being able to spend some alone time with Toru is what swayed you into staying.

Which is how you ended up in their living room.

The rest of the house was quieter than Sato ever allowed it to be. There was no music blaring, none of his restless pacing or constant yammering about fuck knows what. The only thing heard was the low hum of the TV ahead of you and Toru.

He'd put on a movie a few minutes ago and although you'd agreed to watch it with him, you kept glancing towards the front door hoping to see Sato walk in any moment now.

It never happens.

Sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, you and Toru are steady to find comfort in one another's presence. You eventually let yourself focus on what he'd put on, snorting whenever he laughed at the unfunniest bits of it and finding yourself mused by the easiness of it all.

You noticed how Toru also tried to sneak his eyes onto you here and there, lacking that smoothness his slightly older brother had and always catching your attention when he did it.

The two of you even shared those warm moments where you'd catch him staring and then whisper, "What, is something on my face?"

To which he'd swallow thickly and shake his head, "No, not at all. Sorry..."

His shyness is probably what drew you in the most about him. You loved how often he avoided eye contact with you, how gentle his voice always came out, and the way he'd begin to adjust himself against the couch due to the smallest of things.

The night was going well enough for you to forget all about—

Your phone rang and Sato's name was lighting up your screen.

At the sight, your shoulders went tense and you were unsure if you should answer it or not. Toru looked over at you but he didn't say anything.

The movie continued to play ahead as you picked up the phone and quietly spoke to Sato, "What?"

Whatever was said to you on the other end made your jaw clench—something of which Toru noted instantly. He didn't mean to be nosy but it was hard not to when minutes passed and you were clearly getting frustrated about your conversation.

"You sound drunk," You're heard muttering, making Toru's ears perk up and then strain to hear more.

Sato is just barely heard grumbling in response, "M'not drunk, baby."

Your shoulders slump, "Did you even mean to text me?"

There's a long pause. Toru tenses up and Sato's heard burping.

"I texted you?" The man on the phone asks, making your entire mood sink. "Hahhh, fuck. I don' remember doing that.. What uh, what'd I say?"

"You said you needed to talk." You reply rigidly.

He nods even though you can't see him, "Ah... I mean, I do need to talk to you but," Pausing to grumble, "Don't see why I didn't jus' call.. Anyway, s-so yesterday I was with this girl 'n she said m'not doin' anything wrong."

His early attempt at trying to convince you he wasn't drunk fell flat in that instant. You stare into space for a moment, "What?"

"Remember how we got into it about your squirting problem?" Sato blurts out in response.

You could feel yourself getting irritated with him all over again. You hated the way he said that like it was truly an issue on your end alone, even though the two of you have talked about it after the argument.

"My squirting problem? You mean the fact that you can't get me there?" You snapped back, matching his energy for just a second and unintentionally gaining the dull attention of his nosy brother.

At this point, you don't think you cared whether or not he overheard.

"No, no, I cannnn..." Sato drags out drunkenly. Then you hear this giggle in the background before he adds, "This girl told me it really is you 'n not me. Because like-"

You hang up the phone before he can continue.

The last thing you wanted to do was entertain whatever the fuck he was about to tell you for any longer than you had to. Your phone falls down into your lap and you feel it buzzing a few seconds later but you only swipe it back up to silence it entirely.

After which, the room falls into a thick quietness that swallows up both you and Toru. Even the movie playing ahead had switched to a soundless scene that only added to the shift in moods.

A few minutes of this stillness pass before you feel the weight on the other side of the couch shifting. Your eyes flick over and you see him readjusting himself in his seat.

You don't question it nor say anything but his sudden movements do manage to pull you out of your funk for a second. Ignoring it, you pick your phone back up to see that Sato had texted you a bunch of gibberish—the only sensible message you can make out being one of him begging you to text or call back.

As soon as you start typing, his twin decides to clear his throat again.

“I mean, it can’t be that hard.” Toru says all timidly, his words catching enough to snag your attention away from your phone.

Your thumb goes idle against the screen and you look up at him to see his cheeks colored over with bright red. He was looking off to his left and you could tell by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that his breathing had gone off-track.

Clearly, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

You chuckle as if intrigued by his words, humming, “Your brother said the same thing."

Toru scoffs and then speaks without thinking again, “He doesn’t care enough.”

Cocking a brow, “Doesn’t care enough to make me squirt?” You ask.

The sound of the man’s breath hitching was clearer than the dense tension between you both. “Obviously not,” Toru continues, lifting two slim fingers up to the center of his glasses to adjust them against his nose. “If he did, he would’ve made sure you… uh, did that.”

Never would you have expected to have this kind of conversation with the same man who can barely look you in the eye. But it was clear something had changed. Even in his body language, you saw how he'd sat up a bit straighter against the couch and let his legs sprawl out wider—almost invitingly so.

He was still avoiding your gaze but the sturdiness in his voice is what intrigued you the most.

“Did what, Toru? Say it,” You pressed, putting your phone down and turning on the couch to face him fully.

You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with the way he gulped thickly. “He would’ve uhm..." Toru pauses to take a deep breath—mentally reminding himself that he swore not to embarrass himself in front of you again—and then clears his throat one more time, "He would've made sure you squirted.”

Too shy to look at you just yet, he misses how the look in your eyes changes entirely. It was like seeing him in a new light.

Not that you hadn't thought about it before. He does look exactly like Sato and there's been a few times where you've wondered what it'd be like to be the cause of his glasses going crooked 'n foggy.

Biting back a smile, “Well, he makes me cum a lot.” You explain to him casually. Certainly Toru wouldn't have started talking to you about this if he didn't at least have some advice for you, “Like, back to back.”

He nods, nimble fingers fidgeting over one another in his lap, “Then, he just doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

You bat your lashes at him all cluelessly, “But—“

“As I said the first time,” Toru looks at you all of a sudden, his eyes mildly terrified behind his frames despite the attempt of confidence spreading over his face. There was a devilishly sexy blend of sureness and hesitancy plastered all over his features, “It can’t be that hard.”

The direct eye contact and few inches of space between where you two were sitting made everything feel hot all of a sudden. Blush melts itself into his skin again and it was clear that this initiated flirting of his was a first time thing.

You knew Toru found you intimidating and that subconsciously accepted fact only made you want to see more. More of your affect on him.

Sliding closer to him on the couch, your voice slyly dips into something more taunting, “You sound like you wanna try.”

Watching the way his jaw flexes, teeth tightly gritted within his mouth, and throat struggling to conceal the high-pitched sound that threatened to jump out of him—your affect on the man was as clear as day.

Somehow, Toru manages to maintain his confident facade, “Would you let me if I did?”

“Do you?” You ask quicker than he expects you to.

His head felt like it was spinning already. Is this what it's like to do drugs? Does his brother get to experience this all the time?

Toru gulps again, “Do I.. what?”

Now he was playing dumb on purpose, as if he wasn't the one who commenced this whole thing with his earlier statement.

Which makes you giggle, “You’re the smartest guy I know, Toru." Your compliment makes his heart skip a few beats. Then your head tilts and your tone softens, "Don’t start acting dumb just to appeal to me.”

He bats those pretty white lashes at you with his eyes all doe-like on you for a moment before he looks down, “I just… I wanted to hear you say it.”

You stand up from the couch all of a sudden and he freezes up. Then you walk over and stand right in between his legs, moving a hand to his chin and forcing his head up. “Do you wanna try making me squirt?”

Toru shakes his head and your brows furrow. His face nuzzles into your hand, forcing it to spread open as his cheek presses into your palm, “It’s not something to be tried, it’s just something I can do for you.” He explains.

Your thumb brushes against his cheek and his glasses slip down his nose a bit. Smiling, “Someone's confident.”

He merely whispers, “‘Can’t be that hard.”

——

Ten minutes later and you're wondering why he wasn't the first Gojo twin you met.

Loong fingers stretching your pussy out crudely, hot tongue attacking your clit like he wanted to lick you into numbness, and eyes still doe-like as they remain glued up on your face—Toru was nothing like his slightly older brother.

No, no, he aimed not only to please but to learn how you like to be pleased.

Whereas Sato would just sleep with you the same way he did with anyone else—beyond confident in his own abilities to bring a woman pleasure—Toru was the kinda man who took his time to work you up specifically.

“Taste s’good,” He praised in a tone deeper than you knew to be capable from him. You were laying across the couch now and he was stuffed neatly in between your legs. Whining, “More,” as he tugged at your thighs, his jaw going slack, and his mouth smearing against your cunt. “Gimme’ more—mmpfh. Please?"

You weren't sure what more he could be referring to when his fingertips were already twirling something sinful against your g-spot. You had a hand buried into his hair, your other behind you as you held onto the couch to steady yourself with the way he feasted on you as if your pussy was the best thing to wet up his tongue.

“Ah, T-Toru, fuck!” You cried out, unconsciously pulling away from him when his fingers focused in deep against that soppy spot—addicted to the way your slick gushed out around his hand and left a sweet mess against the couch.

His fingers leave your insides for only a second and a half before he's shoving them into his mouth to suck the taste off. Toru's eyes rolled back for a moment before he let both of his hands redirect to your inner thighs and then spread you out wider just so nothing was obstructing your view of the way he sloppily kissed your cunt.

Small strings of aroused filth would hang in between his mouth and your puffy pussylips, all of which would get licked off by his eager tongue before he dove back in for more.

Before you'd let him make his way down there, you recall the way he oh-so-awkwardly kissed you. He hardly had a clue what to do with his tongue when it was against yours but now that he was in between your legs, he became an entirely different person.

Suckling the dewy tastes into his mouth and guzzling it down his throat just to let it linger, Toru was nothing short of desperate to make you feel good. So much so that his brain practically turns off as he moves his hands to grip your hips and then lifts the lower half of your body up against his face.

His mouth nuzzled harder against you and you felt the wiggling tip of his tongue slap against your clenching walls. He softly humped the couch as he ate you out, letting the sounds of your moans coax him into giving you everything he could.

Toru only pulled away from your cunt when his glasses fogged up too much for him to see your face. And before you could offer to wipe them off or anything, you met his gaze with the way his head angled for you to do so.

His voice deep and aching, “Sit on my face,” He requested before whining again. “Pleasepleaseplease,” the man panted almost puppy-like and then seared his next words right into your clit with the edge of his tongue, “Need it s’bad.”

You don't think you had it anywhere in you to deny him when he was asking so nicely like that.

But by the time the two of you had flipped over and you were left hovering over his pleasantly flushed face—his shaky hands tight against your hips—you were a little too nervous to sit down.

Toru had caught his breath by now but nothing about his starved appetite had changed. Those previously soft blue eyes of his seemed to pierce straight through you in a way that Sato's sometimes would. You know they're twins and all but fuck, it was nerve-wracking to experience that hungry look from the alleged "shy" twin.

“Ride it," Toru husked out all of a sudden, giving your body the faintest pull.

Your eyes went all wide, “…Your mouth?”

Instead of clarifying things or being patient with you, he snatches your frame down with a strength you didn't know he possessed. Moaning before your core even reaches his lips again, “Want you to feed your pussy to me.”

Then he was practically suctioned to you again, eyes rolling back far enough for the whites to be visible beneath the foggy frames of his glasses.

“Ohfuck,” You cry out, the upper half of your body slumping forward a bit as your thighs squeeze around his head.

You felt the way Toru smiled at the feeling, almost like he was exactly where he'd wanted to be. His tongue skated up into you with a vigor you'd never felt before.

The man ate pussy like he wanted the results of your release plastered all over those pretty glasses of his, leaving him with sogged vision and a numbed tongue. It was yet another thing that made him so much different than his brother because although that man had stamina like no other and knew how to use his cock, he never once ate you out.

Meanwhile Toru couldn’t seem to get enough.

He even left a needy smack to your ass, encouraging you to do as he initially asked of you and ride his face. It wasn’t until his tongue was constantly plunging past your glissading folds that you unconsciously rolled your hips forward and earned a whimper from him in response.

Then the hands on your hips began to tug at you again, not even begging you for more but demanding it now.

You could no longer focus on the way he looked with splashes of your slick spread out on his glasses in nasty droplets since the tip of his nose had bumped up against your clit, and his jaw went slack just to adhere to your drooling nerves.

The sensation made your entire body flinch, but he wouldn’t let you pull up. For the nth time, you were stunned by Toru’s strength.

His tongue was thick and gathering against your pussy, not letting a singular drop of your taste escape his mouth until something light ghosted out of you.

“S-Something feels-, nngh,” Your struggles were just the cutest thing. “Different.” You tried to warn him.

His head tilted slightly and you felt his lips curve against you again as he smiled knowingly. Plucking his mouth away from you for the first time in forever with a wet pop!, Toru let his warm breath pat your quivering hole as he whispered, “It’s supposed to feel different, sweet girl. That’s what happens when you come to the right twin.”

Cocky. You never knew Toru had that in him—must be a trait that runs into family.

Except, it’s not like he was wrong. Once he lathered his tongue back in and sucked on your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane, you felt that coiling burn building up inside you. You knew you were gonna squirt despite never experiencing it before.

But it felt like too much, made you feel dirty as you neared that shattering edge. So much so that you tried so hard to snatch yourself away from Toru, whining excessively only for each sound to fall on completely deaf ears.

Your legs had clamped around his head so tight that he was getting lightheaded from his lack of oxygen—not that he cared. He had one singular goal and nothing was gonna stop him from reaching it.

It wasn’t long before it happened as his complimenting moans turned into graveling groans. The sounds vibrated against your pussy and you were tongue-fucked right into something blissful. Bleary white streaks coated your vision and you think you would’ve fallen over if not for the mean grasp he had on you.

Toru had done it, he managed to make you squirt.

By the time your brain feels like it’s functioning enough to hold a conversation, you let your vision come back to you and look down to see his soaked face.

His eyes are dazed whilst they peer up at you, appreciation swirling through his pupils. Those same glasses you’ve managed to squirt over are now crooked and you wonder if that’s from the way you unconsciously started rutting your hips forward just a few minutes ago.

Toru didn’t do anything but pant heavily—his breath stuttering here and there due to how long he went without breathing properly. When he finds the energy to send you another boyish grin, you feel a wave of embarrassment flutter over.

“Shit,” You huff, slowly moving from over his face and then grabbing his glasses.

With his face revealed, you saw how unfairly pretty he was with content written into his skin.

Then he chuckles softly, “You don’t have t’clean those.” Toru tells you, tone mumbled.

You were trying to wipe his glasses off with your shirt but he’d moved his hand to your wrist to stop you.

“I like the mess,” he added.

After which you’re stuck staring at him while he takes the wet glasses out of your hand and puts them back on his face. Surely there’s some hygienic concerns to take into consideration here but he’s not at all worrying about that right now.

Not with the painfully hard cock he’s got twitching in between his legs.

He wasn’t gonna tell you out of fear you’d assume he was some kinda loser (he is) but, not only did he cum half-way through eating you out, he also got hard again when that messy stream came pouring out of you.

Toru’s never made a woman squirt before but he did study enough videos to—clearly—figure out how it’s done. He didn’t think it would work so easily with you since all he had to use was his tongue but considering the way you just-

“Can you do that again?” Your voice hits his ears all of a sudden and his eyes widen.

“W-What?” Toru chokes, “You uh, you want me to make you squirt again?”

You nod and then move to sit back a little, not exactly in his lap but still close enough for your body heat to mingle. Your finger trails down the center of his torso slowly as you speak, “It felt really good. I wanna do it again,” You requested almost innocently. “But, on your cock this time.”

He doesn’t know how he managed not to cum at the sound of that.

Toru knew you were bold, he knew you could be a bit of a ditz at time, but fuck—did you have any idea of the things you were asking for sometimes?

Mustering up that faux confidence from before, he leans up and hums. “Alright, yeah… I can do that.” He thinks. Not that he’ll admit his lack of assuredness to you though. His hands simply move against your body and you hardly realize what’s going on until he’s swooped you up in his arms. “But not here.”

You blink dumbfoundedly, “Why not?”

“I have a better idea.”

——

When he said that, you didn’t think the better idea in question would be having sex in his brother’s room.

You recognized the path there as Toru carried you, felt the familiarity when he laid you down on the bed, and smelled the same scent of Sato lingering around even as Toru tried to distract you with kisses.

It seemed to be surprise after surprise with this man.

“I think after all the times I’ve had to hear the two of you fuck,” Toru’s hands were running down your body—his touch smoother than his brother’s ever were. “It’s only fair that I make you squirt in the same place he never could, right?”

Too many thoughts of sin swirled in your head for you to answer that properly so all you did was nod your head again. Which was yet another thing he found cute.

It’s no wonder Sato kept you to himself all this time.

That realization becomes even clearer by the time Toru’s got his cock freed from his clothing, his pinkish tip dribbling precum down onto your cunt while he gapes at the sight.

With his clothes all gone, you realized that he’d been hiding a ripped body under all those baggy, nerdy-branded tees he wore. His muscles would flex without him even trying and he didn’t even notice how badly you were drooling over him until he stopped looking at your weeping hole and remembered to redirect his gaze up.

Seeing how you’re staring at his abs like you wanted to take a bite out of him, he leaned all the way up and allowed himself to be on full display for you. His cock bobbed with its hardness due to the way you admired him.

He was only reminded again that his brother got this time and time again and was too selfish to share.

What an asshole.

Toru scoffed and let his head cock to the left, peaking down at his length still hanging over your lower abdomen. “Hm,” His hand moved and he began to measure himself in comparison to how deep inside you he’d be within the next few minutes—hand stopping only a few inches short of your belly button. “Does he reach this far?”

You flinched out of your gawking thoughts and moved your attention to where his hand was, gasping at the debauched sight in between your legs.

Truth be told, the fact that they were twins clearly applied to every inch of their bodies. But if you looked hard enough, you could notice that Sato’s is a bit longer while Toru’s has that veining thickness.

To avoid making the man jealous, you shrug and make eye contact with him again, “Put it in and find out.”

Toru laughs dryly and you throb. Something had changed from before. His shyness seemed like it hid itself away considering there was nothing shy about how he wrapped his hand around his cock and then let it slap slap slap! against your swollen folds.

Your body twitched at each slap but what caught his attention most is how your cunt salivated with each one.

“Huh. I think I figured it out,” Toru breathed, his glasses slipping a bit.

Then he guides his dick up to swab around your clit for a couple seconds just to see the way your hips instantly squirm up for more. The smile that drags out across his face is chillingly close to the one Sato wears while he fucks you.

“There it is,” Toru whispers, hauling his cock down and letting his plump tip poke against your hole to feel you clench, and then slide back. “That’s what you like. You like being teased.”

You were so needy that you felt your slick wetly sliding down your skin to pool beneath you, “N-No, I just—“

“Shhh, focus on how this feels, pretty girl.” He instructs. All the shakiness you normally heard in his speech was gone and replaced with something sinfully commanding—yearning only to teach you true pleasure. “See how my cock keeps slipping out? Mmgh,” He repeated his action from before and your hips bucked for more this time, making him huff. “Don’t you want it inside you sooo badly?”

Your hand reached down for him, trying your damndest to angle him into you, “I do. Toru please,” You pleaded delightfully.

His naturally submissive nature leads him to slip an inch in but the dewy warmth of your pussy makes him let out a stuttered gasp. Then he lets his cock slop right out of you with another ringing sound of filth spurring out into the air. Then his deft cockhead thwacks at your quivering hole again and your eyes roll back.

"Say that again." Toru grunts, slapping your parted folds with his cock again to emphasize his words, "Beg me for it."

Your back arches up off the bed this time and you’ve got the prettiest look of desperation on your face, "Mnh, please?"

Fuck. He was not strong enough to drag this out any longer.

Nor was he reader for how welcoming your cunt is for him. Swallowing him in inch by stretching inch, Toru’s left with a slacked jaw as he finally slides into you. Choking on his own breath, “O-Ohh… Oh fuck.” he pants, “You’re so wet. F-Fuck, were you always this wet? Shit..”

You let off a pleasant string of moans that make his cock twitch wildly inside you before he even makes it halfway in.

Managing a short breath, you smile up at him, “Didn’t know you could curse s’much, Toru.”

He knew right then and there he was fucked.

“G-Gonna cum,” He whimpers as he drops his face down into your neck. The singular utterance of his name is what did it for him.

You thought he was just being dramatic but when you feel velvety ropes of creamy cum flooding into you followed by his throaty grunts against the crook of your neck, you realize he was being everything but.

The man could barely move his hips and all he had to offer you was thick loads in sporadic spurts and whiny groans.

By the time you feel his cum escaping where the two of you are still connected, you’re slow to snort, “…Toru?”

“Shit,” He gasps immediately, “Shitshitshit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to cum,” His head flies up, white hairs sticking to his forehead from sweat and eyes all wide and apologetic on yours, “I just-, you felt so good. I couldn’t-, fuck. I’m—“

“It’s okay,” You giggle, moving your hands to cup his face, “Just keep goin’.”

“But-,” His eyes travel back and forth between your own as he continues to stare. It takes Toru a long moment to realize he’s… still hard.

With a breathless oh tumbling out of his kiss-bitten lips, he rolls his hips forward and pushes his cum deeper into you as a creamy squelch rings out. “O-Ohh, fuck. That sounds s’nasty...” He murmurs, arousal decorating his expression from the sound.

“Mhm,” You whir, tugging him down to kiss you.

If Sato had good stamina then, as twins, Toru should too, right?

A very intimate mess of his hips rocking down into you carries on with your lips sliding over one another. Unlike his older sibling who typically fucked like his every thrust guaranteed pleasure (it did), Toru moved inside you in the same way his mouth moved over yours—awkward but careful.

The streeeetch from his cock definitely made up for his lack of hurried strokes since his steady pace forced you to feel every prodding inch.

He may not have lasted long inside you without cumming but he was able to bring you to an orgasm of your own, whispering things into your mouth about how perfect you were—how his brother never deserved any of this.

It made your heart feel heavy and your cunt sloppily sang around his cock up until the sound of something dropping made you both gasp.

“What the fuck.” Sato’s voice was heard seething, having dropped the bag he had hanging off of his shoulder.

When Toru pulls away from you and glances back, you manage to move your head enough to catch a glimpse of how Sato stuck was staring at the way his twin steadily fucking you to gentle tears.

“S-Sato,” You sputtered out, suddenly feeling Toru’s hand move to press down your lower abdomen—tightening the pressure around his cock and making him feel impossibly bigger inside you. “Ohmygod-,” Both men heard the way you choked, “M’gonna cum.”

Only to be interrupted by Toru scoffing, "Not yet. Someone has to teach this guy how to make you squirt, right?"

“No one has to teach me shit,” Sato argued as he fully entered his bedroom.

What a sight—his own brother fucking his favorite girl. Sato never thought he’d see the day, honestly.

Hell, he didn’t even know what to say. The sight of you two wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Toru had his face so it was like seeing himself fuck you. But, y’know, with glasses…

“Clearly someone does,” Toru’s delayed response came after he’d tugged his cock out of you, watching his cum sap out and soil his brother’s bedsheets. “Especially if I was able to do it.”

Rolling his eyes, “Bullshit.” Sato spat without letting his brother’s words register properly. When they finally do, an appalled expression colors over him, “Wait, what? No way, show me.”

Toru moves a hand to scratch the back of his neck, looking off to the side dorkishly, “Uh, we didn’t record it or anything–”

“No, I mean do it again, four eyes.” His older brother clarifies rudely.

You sit up at that. Glancing back and forth between the two for a moment and then settling your eyes onto Sato, “What?”

“I don’t believe him,” Sato huffs as comes to sit on the edge of his bed. Throwing his eyes onto you, “So, if he really made you squirt then surely he has no issue doing it again.”

You blink. “You want him to do that in front of you?”

“I want to see you squirt, period,” He admits, “I don’t care who gets it outta’ you at this point.”

You and Toru then exchange glances before looking at him.

“Well?” Sato scoffs. “If you’re gonna go out of your way to fuck in my bed, don’t stop now that I’m here. Put on a fuckin’ show for me.”

Ever so demanding he was…

——

Not that you or Toru seemed to care.

The next position you end up in is rather… precarious, to say the least.

You thought you were left stretched before but that feeling was utterly pale in comparison to what you felt now. Toru had you bouncing up and down his heavy cock, letting it talk you through every pummeling thrust by leaving sweltering smooches against the deepest crevices of your cunt.

Your maw was left to dangle open and you looked like a true slut in the eyes of the Gojo twins. As one fucked you beyond dumb, the other was sat in front of you with his hands wrapped around his shaft, his palm running up and down that wildly long cock of his as sticky precum glistened out from his tip.

Drool and spit trickled all down your jaw and fell onto the floor below and you couldn’t move in any way to escape Toru’s desperate thrusts.

The sound of sweaty skin slacking and clashing against one another echoed through Sato’s large bedroom whilst he watched and got off to the sight.

Your arms and legs were locked firmly in Toru’s grip and he was just using your pussy to satisfy that swollen ache he’d been dealing with for fuck knows how long now.

The remnants of his cum sobbed downwards and left a messy ring around his base, the pearly color nearly mocking the white happy trail of hair he had.

"Tighter-, hahh.. squeeze around me tighter, please." Toru muttered into your ear, having found himself pussydrunk and slopped. The walls of your pussy narrowed around him and his hips snapped up a little faster, "Good girl, just like that. F-Fuuck... you're gonna make me c-cum." Toru whimpered.

A singular gasp of, "Inside.” from your horribly sore throat makes both him and his brother groan.

"Again? Shiit," Toru sent a bragging smile ahead before bucking his hips up into you faster as if to prove a point. Still talking into your ear, "Y'want me to breed you in front of Sato? Damn, you're sluttier than I thought you'd be."

You feel his weighty balls pounding up against your skin as his cock bullied in deeper, your pussy stretched into the prettiest shape and molded perfectly around him.

Sato couldn’t take his eyes off the errotic sight and his hand moved faster, his own hips thrusting up as he reminisced on that feeling of positioning into you. The man swears he could feel you wrapped around him just from watching his brother handle you.

It was so different to see things from this perspective but fuck was it sexy. Your tits bounced as Toru dragged you up up upp and then let his hips meet you halfway with a needy thrust as he let your body come back down.

"Mmngh, Toru!" You moaned softly.

To which his teeth nipped at your ear, "It's so cute when you say my name like that," He huffs, "Do you like me that much? Hm? Like the way Toru treats this pussy?"

You weakly moved your head in agreement, tears running down your cheeks, "Uhuhh… f-fuuuck, Toru. M’cummin.”

His movements grew faster then, ruder. The plump crown of his cock mashed into that sweet spot of yours over and over and over as if to make the spot his new home—imprint himself there permanently.

Breathing all heavy against you, “S’okay, let it out, sweetheart. Show him what he should be making you do, yeah?”

Sato cums a split second before it actually happens, based on the fact that it was about to happen. Thank god you were too drunk to see it because he’s watching with teary eyes as you squirt all over Toru—his dick slipping out of you because of it and the mess spraying ahead filthily.

Your pussy quivers from the release and you’re whining all through it, the cooing sound of Toru whispering you through your high prominence in your ear. You could barely think, barely breathe because of the intensity of it all.

When you calm down from it, Toru’s still got you in his arms and all you’re left to focus on is Sato’s pouty face as he continues to stroke himself.

“Well, fuck. Look at you,” He spoke hoarsely the moment he noticed your attention on him, his head resting back against his headboard, “Just a whore for some Gojo cock, huh?”

Your head barely bobs in response—far too dazed to answer that with a properly functioning brain.

Sato’s hand squeezes around his tip and his brows furrow, “Yeahhh? Y’liked watching me jerk off like some pathetic loser while I let my brother fuck you?” He hardly waited for another answer out of you before nodding his chin, “Bet you do. Look at that pussy, so fuckin’ wet from this.”

Toru’s easing you down on the bed in between the both of them, puffing, “Unfair of you to keep her all to yourself, Sato.”

Keeping things simple, “I’m willing to share now.”

…

Things should have ended there. Seriously.

But, allas, the hold these two have over you appeared to be much stronger than you thought.

“Wrap those lips around me, baby.” Sato had requested, watching your shaky limbs move in between his legs.

Toru was somewhere behind you, diving his face back into your cunt to… clean the mess he left in there, apparently.

Out of both of them, Toru was definitely the more perverted one—currently eating his own cum out of your cunt after giving you some bullshit excuse about wanting to keep you clean.

All he wanted was to stick his tongue inside you again. You weren’t that dumb.

While you gathered Sato’s cock into your palm and let your lips press into his tip, he hissed as his face twisted up due to sensitivity. Easing a hand onto your head, “Atta girl. Choke on this dick while he cleans you up. Wanna see every inch down that throat.”

His words never failed to leave your cunt soused, a physical reaction of which met Toru’s compliant tongue.

Sato’s bed was a mess of all sorts of fluids—overly due for a washing after all that had taken place thus far. His cock was somewhere in the back of your throat and he felt your moans tremble against him whenever Toru slurped against you just right.

The three of you were lazy with everything by now and the only thing that made the Gojo siblings perk up was when you ended up gifting Toru’s mouth with another raining mess.

Oh, Sato was in awe at the sight all over again. So much so that it’s what caused his next orgasm. He was so dazed by your squirting that he didn’t even bother to ask you to swallow what he’d just unconsciously thrusted into your throat.

Normally that’s his favorite part; watching or asking you to swallow his seed. Yet, he’d missed all of that because seeing his brother’s face smothered in your wetness left him shocked.

“Ohhh, shit. That was more than the first time.” Toru said as he finally pulled himself from in between your legs.

Sato’s ears twitch and he cocks a brow. Daze broke completely, “First time?” he asked. It was clear he still didn’t believe that his geeky, clumsy, and overall awkward sibling made that happen before he walked in.

Toru looks at his brother, “Yeah… More than the first time she squirted.”

Sato stares. “You… You made her squirt before I got here?” Disbelief was evident in his tone.

He chuckles, “You asked me that like it’s hard or something, of course I did.”

You pull yourself up from Sato’s softening cock just in time and give the two slow blinks while transferring your gaze back and forth. Sleepiness wasn’t slow to overcome you.

Sato met your eyes with his pointed ones and puffed all brat-like, “Soooo… you’re gonna do that for only me next time, right?”

There’s not a singular thought inside your head as you blatantly ignore him. Then, you turn over and plop onto the bed to lay down—back facing the two of them.

“Hello?” Sato taps your shoulder and then jokingly adds a comedic, “Chat, am I muted…?”

Toru snorts with a shake of his head, getting out the bed to start cleaning up the mess you three collectively made within the past few hours.

Then, you’re wondering if the roles had reversed for a second when he grumbles, “Fuckin’ loser…”

perm gojo tags (1/2);

@imyourightnow @cupidstrace @billiondollarworth @navyllll @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa444 @sugo-jo @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator @2kool4skoolll @yulissacastillo11

@daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @oookore @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @anothergojostan @kitassecretgf @nanasukii28 @iam-souless

@nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @kunababy @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @forest-nymph666 @yourlocalcatscammer @viiennie

@1stmagnoila @moonmilk102 @v33326 @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @bloxdhawks @riameriash

@arminseas2 @palanggaaa @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @salmon-ella @miss-f0rtun3 @jinjen @blcknebula @babblybebe @iluvatsumuuuui

(if u wanna be tagged for future gojo works pls lmk here—it is almost full though!)

additional tags: @uhnosav @jaibunni @blkkizzat <3

[cumironi]

STRONGEST vs. WETTEST

pairings; gojo satoru, geto suguru

summary. After a disastrous date with a guy who called you “broken” for never squirting, a furious you storms back to the Jujutsu Tech dorms—only to run straight into your two least favorite (and hottest) classmates: Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. What starts as vicious teasing about your ruined night quickly spirals into the most “scientific experiment” of your life: blindfolds, toys, edging, and a very determined duo hell-bent on proving just how wrong that idiot was.

word count.

triggers/warnings. Enemies to Lovers, Enemies with Benefits, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn with Plot, Alternate Universe - College/University, Jujutsu Tech College AU, Gojo Satoru/Reader/Geto Suguru, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Reader-Insert, Female Reader, Rough Sex, Gentle Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Forced Orgasm, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Blindfolds, Sex Toys ( Vibrators ), Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Vaginal Sex, Spit Kissing, Cum Play, Facials, Bukkake, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Mean Dom Gojo, Mean Dom Geto, Affectionate Bullying, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Bad Date Gone Right, Revenge Sex Vibes, Squirting.

the night hangs heavy over the jujutsu tech campus like a velvet shroud, all thick and sultry with that late-autumn chill that nips at your bare skin but doesn't quite bite hard enough to make you regret your choices—yet— like a damp blanket, thick with the remnants of a humid evening that started out promising but soured faster than milk left out in the sun. stars speckle the sky in lazy clusters, mocking you with their twinkling indifference, while the moon's a fat, glowing orb that casts long shadows across the winding paths of the dorm grounds.

it’s late— it's past midnight, the kind of hour where the world feels too quiet, too empty, except for the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves whispering secrets you don't care to hear. the kind of quiet that amplifies every little sound, like the distant hum of a streetlamp flickering its last breaths or the faint rustle of leaves skittering across the pavement like tiny ghosts.

you're storming—no, stomping—down the cracked pavement path that leads to the shared dorms, the cool, gritty concrete biting into your bare soles with each deliberate step— god, your feet ache, but not as much as your pride—or whatever's left of it after that disaster of a date. your high heels dangling from one hand like defeated trophies, their strappy black leather swinging with each furious step. your feet are bare against the cool, rough concrete, toes curling slightly with every gritty contact, the pavement's uneven texture scraping just enough to remind you how utterly pissed you are. god, it feels grounding in the worst way, like the earth’s way of saying hey, girl, snap out of it, but all it does is fuel your grumble, a low, muttering rumble that spills from your lips in fragmented curses.

your dress—oh, this goddamn dress—this slutty little number you picked out with such wicked intent, clings to your body like a second skin, slutty in the best (or worst) way possible, the kind of outfit you picked out with mischief in mind, envisioning tangled sheets and breathless moans until the sun peeked over the horizon; is a deep crimson slip of silk that clings to every curve like it's painted on, the fabric so thin it whispers against your thighs with each movement, riding up just a tad too high to be innocent.

it's got a plunging neckline that dips dangerously low, framing the swell of your breasts with lace-trimmed edges that scream come and get it, and the hem barely skims mid-thigh, leaving your long legs exposed to the night's breeze, flirting with the edge of indecency, short enough that a gust of wind could expose the even sluttier lace thong underneath. underneath? even sluttier—a matching black thong that's more string than substance, paired with a bra that pushes everything up and out like an offering to the gods of debauchery, the kind that screams fuck me without you having to say a word.

you shaved everywhere, smooth as silk, and doused yourself in that vanilla-caramel perfume that always turns heads, the scent lingering like a sweet, seductive trail. your makeup's still flawless, smoky eyes and red lips that could make a saint sin, hair tousled just right from the wind and your earlier anticipation. you are a vision, honestly — you're a walking fantasy, so fucking pretty you could blind someone with a glance, curves in all the right places, skin glowing under the dim campus lights. but tonight? all that effort wasted on some idiot who couldn't appreciate the masterpiece in front of him.

your face is a storm cloud of upset, brows furrowed deep enough to carve permanent lines, lips pursed in a pout that's equal parts adorable and menacing, eyes narrowed like you're plotting murder—which, honestly, you kind of are. each step comes with a grumble, words tumbling out in a heated whisper to yourself, “fucking idiot, who does he think he is?”

the date had started so promising: a cozy little restaurant downtown with dim lighting and candles flickering like they knew the vibe, the guy across from you all chiseled jaw and charming smile, handsome in that generic way that makes your pulse quicken. food was great—steak juicy and rare, wine smooth and heady, conversation basic but bearable, small talk about classes and cursed techniques that didn't bore you to tears. and you? you were geared up for the main event, ready to get dicked down until dawn, body primed and eager, imagining hands on your skin, moans echoing through some cheap motel room. but no. nope. hell no.

the conversation veered into bedroom territory, and he hits you with that stupid question: can you squirt? you're honest—“not sure, never have, no guy's ever made me—and suddenly his face twists like you just confessed to being a cursed spirit in disguise. calls you broken, says he likes girls who can make him feel drowned, like he's some aquatic fetishist who needs a fucking flood to get off. the fuck was that? you're not broken just because squirting's not in your repertoire; it's a stupid, shallow reason to bail, as if your body's some defective toy he can return.

you could do so much better than squirt, anyway—hell, you could clench around him like a vice, milk him dry with those kegels you've been practicing, ride him reverse cowgirl until he's begging for mercy, deepthroat like a pro and swallow every drop without spilling, or arch your back in doggy so perfectly he'd see stars.

you could moan his name in ways that shatter egos, scratch down his back leaving marks that last days, or even edge him for hours until he's a whimpering mess. squirting? please. that's amateur hour compared to the symphony of pleasure you could orchestrate. and the fucking guy can squirt himself if he's so obsessed—shove a hose up his ass and drown his stupid self in it.

you grumble louder now, voice rising in the quiet night, “if he wants to drown so bad, he can jump in the fucking ocean, not hunt for girls like they're goddamn fountains.” the words echo off the dorm buildings, your bare feet slapping the pavement harder, frustration boiling over until you spot a trash can by the path—rusted metal, overflowing with soda cans and wrappers—and you kick it, hard, the clang ringing out like a gunshot in the silence, the can wobbling but not toppling, your toe throbbing but the satisfaction worth it.

“take that, you symbolic piece of shit,” you mutter, pushing through the double doors of the dorm with a shove that makes them bang against the walls.

inside, the lobby's dimly lit, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like annoyed bees, the air thick with the faint scent of instant ramen and lingering cursed energy from earlier training sessions. you stomp deeper, into the communal living room where mismatched couches sag under invisible weights, a tv flickering static in the corner, posters of old jujutsu missions peeling from the walls.

it's college life at its finest—messy, chaotic, shared among sorcerers who pretend they're adults but act like overgrown kids. but your dramatic entrance gets halted mid-stride by voices, two of them, lazy and teasing, cutting through the quiet like knives dipped in honey.

“look at that, strolling in like a lost little slut after curfew,” comes the first voice, smooth and mocking, belonging to gojo satoru, that white-haired menace sprawled on the couch with his long legs kicked up, blindfold pushed up to reveal those piercing blue eyes glinting with mischief. he's in his usual casual getup—black shirt hugging his lean muscles, sweatpants low on his hips—looking every bit the pervert he is, a smirk playing on his lips like he owns the damn room.

“yeah, what happened, princess? date ditch you 'cause you couldn't keep up?” adds geto suguru, his dark hair loose around his shoulders, lounging beside gojo with that infuriatingly calm demeanor, but his eyes—sharp and hungry—rake over your form, lingering on the way your dress clings, the bare feet, the upset flush on your cheeks. he's in a simple tank top that shows off his broad shoulders, gauges glinting in the low light, voice dripping with that mean sweetness that always gets under your skin.

you freeze, heat rising in your chest—not just from anger, but from the way they look at you, like predators toying with prey, affectionate in their filthiness, loving in their menace. enemies? sure, on the surface—always bickering in class, clashing during missions, their teasing pushing your buttons since freshman year. but there's something deeper, stupid and sweet, a dynamic where their perversion feels almost caring, their insults laced with unspoken want. you whirl on them, heels still dangling, face twisting further into that grumble-pout. “shut the fuck up, both of you. not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

gojo laughs, that high-pitched, deranged cackle that echoes too loud, like a fucking hyena leaning forward with elbows on knees. “aw, come on, don't be like that. you look all dolled up and slutty—that dress? damn, it's practically begging to be ripped off. but your face says the night bombed. what, pretty boy couldn't handle you? or wait, did he call you broken too?” he mimics your earlier grumble, voice pitching up in dramatic mockery, and somehow he knows— damn you gojo and his stupid six eyes. . . while geto chuckles low, filthy and soft, “nah, satoru, look at her grumble. bet she scared him off with that attitude. or maybe she promised the world and delivered a drizzle. pathetic, aren’t you?”

you step closer, bare feet padding on the worn carpet, anger flaring but mixed with that weird, playful heat they always spark—stupid, affectionate, like they're mean because they care too much not to be. “fuck off, idiots. he was the broken one, obsessed with squirting like it's the holy grail. and you two? calling me a slut? pot meet kettle—you're the perverts who stare at my ass during training.” your voice rises, dramatic and crazy (must be loose her mind’ both men thought), hands gesturing wildly, but there's a spark in your eyes, a flame pull toward their teasing, the way gojo's gaze drops to your cleavage, shameless. . .  while geto smirks, “oh, we're perverts? says the one barefoot and fuming in lingerie disguised as a dress. tell us more, sweetheart—did he at least make you moan before bailing?”

“moan? ha, as if,” you snap back, crossing your arms which only pushes your breasts up further, drawing their eyes like magnets, the argument heating up in that ‘make me mad but i know you are gonna fuck me later’ way—mean words flying but softened by the underlying affection, their shamelessness, rude. . . fucking meannnn wrapping around you like a warm, sticky post-sex hug.

gojo stands now, towering over you with that dramatic flair, like he knows he is better than anyone— he is, he soooo fucking is. “come on, admit it, you're upset 'cause you wanted to get fucked silly, and now you're taking it out on us. poor thing, all dressed up with no one to drown.” geto joins in, voice sweet but cutting, “yeah, but we could fix that—if you're not too broken for us.” 

your frown deepens, carving sharp little trenches between your brows, lips twisting into something so pouty and stormy it could summon rainclouds inside this damn dorm. you're more upset than you thought possible, chest tight and hot, because—of all the fucking people to run into tonight—it's them. gojo satoru and geto suguru, the undisputed strongest duo on campus, the ones every girl whispers about in the locker rooms with flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

especially gojo, they say. especially, the gojo fucking satoru. that white-haired freak apparently fucks like he fights: relentless, overwhelming, leaves you shaking and stupid for days. and you hate that the thought even crosses your mind—hate that you can't believe that idiot from the date couldn't handle you, yet these two perverts have probably ruined half the female population with their dicks. it's unfair. it's infuriating. it's making your thighs clench in the worst way. it make your pussy cry for thier said 'magical' cock. . . or cocks???  yeah, you can definitly do both. . . wink, wink. 

you let out a long, dramatic groan that echoes in the empty living room, shoulders slumping as you spin on your bare heel. “fuck off, both of you,” you mutter, voice low and gravelly with exhaustion and lingering rage, before turning toward the elevator at the end of the hall. your heels still dangle from your fingers, swinging like pendulums counting down to your escape, bare feet padding softly against the cold linoleum now, each step a little stomp because you're still pissed.

behind you, gojo lets out the most pathetic, high-pitched whine you've ever heard from a grown man. “whaaat? you're just gonna leave us hanging like that?” he yells with that gangly, dramatic flair, long legs carrying him after you in two big strides. geto follows at a more leisurely pace, hands in his pockets, but you can feel his dark eyes burning into your back like brands.

“i wanna get away from you idiots,” you call over your shoulder without looking back, voice flat and mean, jabbing the elevator button repeatedly like it's personally offended you. the doors finally ding open with a tired groan, and you slip inside, pressing your back against the far wall, arms crossed tight under your chest—which, of course, only pushes your tits up higher in that slutty crimson dress. key word; purposely (you try to get fucked but too shy to ask).

but peace? nope. not tonight. gojo barrels in right after you, all boundless energy and smirking lips, while geto slides in smooth and quiet, the doors closing with a soft thunk that traps all three of you in this tiny metal box. instantly, the air thickens—cursed energy, perfume, and the faint musk of their cologne mixing into something heady and dangerous. geto's on your right, leaning casually against the wall, while gojo crowds your left, towering and unapologetic.

geto glances at the panel, that lazy smirk curling his mouth as his dark eyes flick to you. “12, right?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-rough, not even waiting for confirmation before his long finger presses the button for floor 12—your floor—and then 8, theirs, right below. the elevator lurches upward with a soft hum, and you exhale a tiny, relieved sigh, thinking thank fuck, they'll get off first, leave you alone to stew in your room with a vibrator and some spite . . . lie, you rather stew, stir, anything with cock, or cocks.

“thanks,” you mumble under your breath, barely audible, staring at the floor numbers lighting up one by one.

geto hums in response, a deep, satisfied sound that vibrates through the small space. “anytime, princess.”

but gojo—fucking gojo—can't let anything be peaceful. he's staring at you openly, head tilted, blindfold pushed up so those stupidly bright blue eyes can rake over every inch of you. he's leaning sideways now, one palm flat against the wall right beside your head, caging you in without touching, his body heat radiating like a furnace. that signature smirk stretches wider, lazy and filthy.

you finally snap your gaze to him, frown sharpening. “what the fuck are you looking at?”

he shrugs, slow and exaggerated, eyes dropping deliberately to your chest. “your tits,” he says, voice dripping with casual perversion, like he's commenting on the weather. his smirk grows even bigger, sharp canines glinting. geto snorts beside you, a soft puff of laughter he doesn't bother hiding.

“fuck off, satoru,” you hiss, cheeks burning despite yourself, arms tightening across your chest like that'll hide anything in this dress.

but gojo doesn't listen—never listens. instead, his free hand lifts, fingers bold and unhesitating as they hook into the plunging neckline of your dress. he tugs it down slow, deliberate, the silk sliding lower until the lace edge of your bra peeks out and even more cleavage spills into view, the cool elevator air kissing newly exposed skin. both of them let out twin hums of approval—gojo's high and teasing, geto's low and rumbling—like they've just uncovered buried treasure.

“fuck, that's better,” gojo breathes, eyes hooded, thumb brushing the swell of your breast for half a second before you react.

you slap his hand away hard, the crack echoing in the tiny space, your voice rising sharp and dramatic. “you're both disgusting! absolute perverts—get your filthy hands off me!”

gojo whines again, cradling his slapped hand to his chest like you mortally wounded him, bottom lip jutting out in the most over-the-top pout. “owww, so mean! we were just appreciating the view you put on display, sweetheart. walking in here all slutty and grumpy—it's practically an invitation.” that's right. . . i'm inviting you two to fuck me, please take the goddamn bait' you thought.

geto chuckles darker this time, shifting closer on your right until his shoulder brushes yours, voice soft and sweet like poison. “he's not wrong. that dress is begging to be messed up. and you're the one who came home all worked up and unsatisfied… we can smell it on you.”

your breath hitches, thighs pressing together instinctively as the elevator climbs agonizingly slow, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, thick enough to choke on. they're so close—gojo's fingers still hovering near your chest like he might try again, geto's gaze heavy and knowing on your face—and you hate how your body's reacting, how the anger's twisting into something hotter, needier, nastierrrr. the burn is excruciating, every second stretching into eternity as the floor numbers tick upward, and you know—you just know—they're not getting off on 8 without dragging you into whatever filthy chaos they have planned— hope it's fuck you till you cry domain.

the elevator dings like a smug little bitch, doors sliding open with a soft whoosh to reveal the dimly lit hallway of floor 8—their floor, all muted blues and grays under the flickering fluorescent lights, posters of old missions taped crookedly to the walls, the faint smell of instant coffee and boy-sweat lingering like a signature. geto steps out first, smooth and unhurried, turning to plant himself right in front of the doors with his arms loosely crossed, that dark hair falling over one shoulder, smirk sharp enough to cut glass as he blocks any hope of escape. gojo's still glued to your left side, body heat pouring off him in waves, that stupidly tall frame crowding you against the wall like he owns the damn elevator.

you tilt your head at him slow, deliberate, one brow arched high in that silent, universal language of get the fuck out, now. your bare toes curl against the cold metal floor, heels still dangling uselessly from your fingers, crimson dress riding up just a little higher from all the shifting.

gojo blinks those ridiculous blue eyes, points at his own chest with a long finger, then jabs it toward the open door like he's genuinely confused. “me? out?” he mouths dramatically, lips forming the words in exaggerated slow-motion.

you nod once, firm and pissed, lips pressed thin.

he nods back, all solemn and fake-serious—then in one fluid, idiotically strong motion, he ducks low, arm hooking behind your knees, the other around your back, and suddenly the world flips upside down. your stomach drops as you're hoisted over his shoulder like a goddamn sack of cursing, squirming girl. the breath whooshes out of you in a shocked yelp, your heels clatter to the elevator floor forgotten, hair tumbling down in a wild curtain as blood rushes to your head.

“what the fuck are you doing, satoru?!” you screech, voice echoing off the hallway walls, fists pounding uselessly against the broad, annoyingly solid plane of his back—muscles flexing under your palms like he’s enjoying the massage. upside down, you catch geto strolling behind, one hand in his pockets while the othe now holding your heels, laughing low and rich, eyes crinkled with pure satisfaction.

“put me down right now or i swear to god i'll scream!” you threaten, kicking your legs, bare feet flailing in the air, thighs brushing dangerously close to gojo's face with every swing.

geto tilts his head, voice all velvet and filth as he walks backward down the hall, keeping pace. “go ahead and scream, baby. everyone on this floor already thinks satoru's fucking you good when you make noise like that. they know his reputation.” he winks, tongue flicking over his lower lip like he's tasting the idea already.

you go dead silent for a beat, dangling there like a furious cat, staring at geto upside down—blood rushing louder in your ears. “are you fucking kidding me?” you finally hiss, incredulous and hot-cheeked. “you’re both disgusting—absolute animals—put me down!”

you kick harder, one heel connecting with gojo's abs— which does absolutely nothing except make him grunt a pleased little “mmph”, and you slap at his back again, nails scraping through the fabric of his shirt. but he's the strongest for a reason—your hits are mosquito bites to him, and he just chuckles, the vibration rumbling through his chest into your belly where it’s pressed against his shoulder.

gojo strides down the hall like he’s carrying a prize, long legs eating distance until he stops at a door—their shared dorm, you realize dimly, the one everyone jokes is basically a brothel disguised as student housing. he kicks it open with one foot, the bang loud and dramatic, revealing a messy, lived-in chaos of clothes strewn over chairs, empty energy drink cans, two unmade beds pushed together into one massive one because of course they share, posters of cursed techniques and half-naked models taped side by side. the air smells like them—clean sweat, mint, and something darker, muskier.

he finally lowers you, slow enough that your body slides down his front, dress hiking up embarrassingly high, thighs brushing his hips, until your bare feet hit the soft rug. the world spins for a second—head rush making everything tilt—and before you can steady yourself or spit another curse, gojo's hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks soft and sudden, and his mouth crashes onto yours.

fucking yesss.

it’s not gentle. it’s hungry, stupid, overwhelming—lips hot and demanding, tongue sliding in without asking, tasting like the strawberry candy he’s always sucking on. you groan into it immediately, a low, betrayed “nngh” that vibrates between you both, hands flying up not to push but to grip—fingers digging hard into his biceps, anchoring yourself as your knees threaten to buckle. the door clicks shut behind you—geto locking it with a deliberate turn that echoes like a promise—and then his presence is at your back, heat radiating, but for now it’s just gojo devouring your mouth like he’s been starving for it.

you kiss him back just as filthy, teeth nipping his lower lip in retaliation, tongue tangling messy and wet, another soft moan spilling out of you, “mmph, fuck.” because god damn it, he tastes good, feels good, and all that earlier anger is melting into something molten and stupid between your thighs. your body arches instinctively, pressing closer, nipples tightening against the silk of your dress as his chest molds to yours.

geto’s low chuckle ghosts over your ear from behind, affectionate and mean all at once. “look at her, satoru. already moaning like she’s been waiting for this all night.”

gojo pulls back just enough to grin against your lips, breathless and wrecked. “told you we could fix that bad date, sweetheart.” then he dives back in, deeper, hungrier, one hand sliding down to palm your ass and squeeze like he owns it, while your head’s still spinning from the kiss and the carry and the fact that you’re in their room now, door locked, no escape—and honestly, you’re not even sure you want one anymore. bitch, you never do.

you feel geto before you even hear him move—his chest pressing flush against your back like a wall of warm, solid muscle, the thin fabric of his tank top doing nothing to hide the heat pouring off him. those big hands, calloused and rough from endless hours gripping weapons and throwing punches during training, slide up your bare arms slow and deliberate, fingers dragging over your skin like he's memorizing every inch. goosebumps erupt in their wake, your body betraying you instantly as his palms glide higher, over the delicate curve of your shoulders, thumbs brushing the thin straps of your crimson dress. he leans down—god, he's sooo tall—and his lips find the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses there, one, two, three, each one lingering longer than the last, his breath hot and minty against your skin. the faint scratch of his stubble makes you shiver, a tiny, involuntary “mmh” slipping from your throat.

you melt. like, actually melt—knees going soft, body sagging back into him until your head thuds gently against his chest, hair spilling over his collarbone as you let out a long, shaky sigh that sounds way too needy for your own pride. geto's chest rumbles with a low, pleased hum, one arm banding around your waist to hold you up while his lips keep working, sucking lightly now, leaving damp little trails that cool in the dorm's air-conditioned chill.

gojo, never one to be left out, crowds in closer from the front, that stupidly pretty face dipping to pepper kisses along your cheek—soft and teasing at first—then down to your jaw, nipping playfully before his mouth finds your neck on the opposite side from geto. he's not gentle like geto; he's greedy, lips sucking hard enough to bloom bruises almost instantly, tongue flicking out to soothe the sting before he latches on again. “nngh,” you moan softly as he marks you, one hickey, two, three, dark little claims blooming across your throat like he's signing his name in purple and red. his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in just enough to bruise tomorrow, pulling you tighter against him so you can feel how hard he's already getting, the thick line of him pressing insistently against your lower belly through his sweatpants.

geto's hand starts wandering—slow, filthy exploration—from your shoulder down the front of your dress, palm cupping one breast through the thin silk, giving it a lazy squeeze that makes your nipple pebble instantly against his touch. “ah—” you gasp into gojo's mouth as he steals another kiss, geto's fingers rolling the sensitive peak just enough to make your back arch before his hand slides lower, over the curve of your ribs, the dip of your waist, until he's cupping your pussy right through the dress. the fabric's so thin it's basically nothing— lingerie in disguised' quote gojo, his heat searing straight through to your thong-clad folds as he presses two fingers along your slit, rubbing slow and testing.

he pulls his lips from your shoulder with a wet little pop, breath ghosting over the damp skin there as he mutters a soft, incredulous “huh,” like he's just discovered the most baffling thing in the world. his fingers press a little harder, parting your lips through the layers of fabric, searching for wetness that should be flooding by now if that date had gone anywhere good.

“you're not dripping,” he says, voice low and velvet-rough, almost disappointed but mostly amused, fingers circling your clit lazily through the silk. “like, not even close to ‘just got fucked full’ dripping. sweetheart… did that guy even touch you?”

you groan, breathless and wrecked, head still lolling against geto's chest as gojo keeps sucking another hickey just below your ear, his teeth grazing in a way that makes your thighs clench. “nngh—no,” you manage, voice cracking as geto's fingers keep teasing, the pressure maddeningly light. “he didn't fuck me. the idiot didn't want to… said i was broken because i told him i've never squirted. as if my pussy's suddenly less because i'm not a fucking fountain.”

gojo pulls back just enough to laugh against your neck, the sound high and unhinged, vibrating through your skin as he licks a stripe up to your earlobe. “that's the dumbest shit i've ever heard. baby, you're soaking through your dress just from us kissing you—feel that, suguru?”

geto hums again, deeper this time, pressing his fingers harder until the fabric of your thong is wedged between your folds, the wet spot growing under his touch. “yeah… starting to now. but still, poor thing came home all dressed up like this and didn't even get properly railed. what a waste.”

you whine, hips rocking forward into geto's hand without permission, chasing more friction as gojo's mouth finds yours again, swallowing the sound with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. “mmph— shut up,” you mumble against his lips, but there's no heat in it anymore—just needy, desperate want as both of them press closer, sandwiching you between their bodies, hands and mouths everywhere, the slowburning feelings finally catching fire and threatening to burn the whole damn dorm down with how stupidly, sweetly, lovingly mean they're being about fixing your ruined night.

gojo breaks the kiss with a wet, obscene pop, lips shiny and swollen as he grins down at you like the cat that finally caught the canary—except the canary's currently sandwiched between two very hungry cats and not even pretending to fly away anymore. his forehead rests against yours for a second, breath coming in hot little puffs that mingle with yours, those stupidly long white lashes fluttering as he stares into your eyes with that unhinged, affectionate gleam. “broken? because you don't squirt?” he echoes your earlier grumble in this high-pitched, mocking voice that's somehow still dripping with sugar, like he's teasing a toddler who dropped their ice cream. “baby, that's the funniest shit i've heard all week. guy probably couldn't find your clit with a map and a flashlight.”

geto laughs behind you, the sound rumbling through his chest and into your spine like thunder wrapped in velvet, his big hand still cupped possessively over your pussy, fingers lazily stroking up and down the dampening silk of your dress as if he's petting a needy little kitten. his other arm tightens around your waist, pulling you harder against him so you can feel every inch of how affected he is too—the thick, heavy ridge of his cock pressing insistently against the small of your back through his loose pants, hot and throbbing like it's got its own heartbeat. “seriously,” he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing the shell before he nips it lightly, making you jolt with a tiny “ah—”. “if that's his standard, no wonder he's out there drowning in mediocrity. meanwhile you're here, all pretty and aching, and we haven't even gotten you out of this dress yet.”

you whimper, a soft, broken “nngh” that you can't hold back as geto's fingers finally slip under the hem of your dress, pushing the fabric up your thighs slow and teasing until his rough palm meets the bare skin just above your thong. the contrast—his calloused warmth against your smooth, shaved legs—makes your hips twitch forward into gojo's grip, chasing more touch like the desperate slut they've been calling you all night. gojo's hands slide down to join the fun, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and squeezing hard enough to leave fingerprints, spreading you just a little so geto has better access.

“feel that?” gojo whispers, voice dropping low and filthy as he grinds his hips forward, letting you feel how impossibly hard he is, the thick length of him dragging against your lower belly. “that's what a real cock feels like when it meets a perfect pussy. no stupid requirements, no fountain bullshit. just wants to be buried inside you until you're crying and clenching and coming all over it.”

geto's fingers finally hook into the thin string of your thong, tugging it aside with zero ceremony, and the cool air hits your slick folds for half a second before his middle finger slides through them—slow, deliberate, gathering wetness from your entrance to your clit in one long, dragging stroke. “fuck,” he breathes, almost reverent, circling your swollen clit once, twice, making your thighs tremble. “listen to her. already so wet just from some kissing and teasing. that idiot really fumbled the bag.”

you moan louder this time, head falling back harder against geto's shoulder as your body goes liquid between them. “mmh— pleaseee,” you manage, voice cracking, not even sure what you're begging for but knowing you need more. your hands scrabble at gojo's shirt, fisting the fabric like it's the only thing keeping you grounded as geto sinks one thick finger inside you without warning—slow, steady, curling just right to stroke that spot that makes your vision spark white.

gojo watches your face like it's the best show on earth, eyes blown wide and dark, licking his lips as he leans in to suck another hickey right over your pulse point. “aww, look at her,” he coos, mean and sweet all at once, one hand coming up to pinch your nipple through the dress until you squeak. “already falling apart and we've barely started. bet we can make you come so hard you forget that loser's name existed.”

geto adds a second finger, scissoring slow and deep, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet dorm room as he pumps them in and out, thumb grinding against your clit in tight circles. “we're gonna ruin you for anyone else, princess,” he promises against your neck, voice soft but edged with that loving menace that makes your pussy clench around his fingers. “no more dumb boys with dumb standards. just us. just this.”

you cry out—a high, needy, “ah, fuck— suguru,” hips rocking shamelessly between them now, chasing the building pressure as gojo drops to his knees in front of you without warning, shoving your dress higher and mouthing at your inner thigh, teeth grazing dangerously close to where geto's fingers are working you open. the slowburn is gone now, replaced by a wildfire licking up your spine, and all you can do is cling to them and let it consume you, moaning their names like prayers as they take you apart piece by stupid, affectionate, filthy piece.

but oh, they are your enemies for all the right, stupid reasons—the kind that started with bickering over mission rankings freshman year and snowballed into years of relentless, mean-spirited teasing that always skates the line between hate and something way too hot to name. they love pushing you, love watching your cheeks burn and your eyes gloss over until you're one sharp word away from actual tears, then swooping in with that soft, affectionate crap that makes it impossible to stay mad. tonight, with you already bruised from that idiot's rejection, they smell blood in the water and decide—without even needing to speak—that yeah, this is the perfect time to be extra fucking relentless.

geto's fingers slide out of you in one cruel, sudden motion, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing, a pathetic little flutter that has you gasping in shock. your eyes fly open, wide and confused, head whipping around to find his face in the dim light. “huh—?” because why the fuck did he stop? his dark eyes are glinting with that particular brand of loving cruelty they both wear so well, the one that's been your personal torment since the day you met these two assholes. he's staring down at you with that half-lidded, dangerous fondness, dark hair falling forward as he leans in and presses the softest, most mocking kiss to your forehead—like he's comforting a kid who skinned her knee.

“not yet, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and syrupy, thumb stroking your cheek like you're something precious he's about to break. “just for research. for fun. let's find out if you really can't squirt… or if you just needed better motivation.”

your stomach drops, heat and dread twisting together, because you know that tone—it's the same one he uses right before he corners you in training and makes you tap out five times in a row just to prove a point.

gojo, synced up like they're sharing one perverted brain cell tonight, lets out a delighted little “yes!” suddenly you're being turned, manhandled with that effortless strength and spins you toward the massive, unmade bed with hands on your hips. the sheets are a tangled mess of navy and black, pillows half on the floor, scattered everywhere from whatever dumb pillow fight they probably had last night, the whole thing smelling like boy and sleep and them. gojo's hands are on your hips, urging you forward until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. “dress off, princess,” he demands, already yanking at the hem himself, fingers brushing your thighs in teasing little grazes. “let's see the full outfit. come on, come on, don't be shy now.”

you huff but obey—because arguing feels pointless when your body's already humming like a live wire—sliding the crimson straps off your shoulders, letting the dress pool at your feet in a whisper of fabric. the cool air hits your bare skin, nipples tightening instantly under their hungry stares. gojo whistles long and low, dramatic as ever, eyes raking over the black lace thong and matching bra like he's appraising a masterpiece. “fuuuck, look at you. all shaved and pretty and wrapped up like a present.” his fingers hook into the waistband of your thong, tugging impatiently. “these too. off. now. don't be shy—we've seen tits before, promise.”

you huff—half annoyed, half turned on but obey because arguing feels pointless when your body's already humming like a live wire—and shimmy out of the crimson silk, letting the dress pool at your feet in a whisper of fabric. the cool air hits your bare skin, nipples tightening instantly under their hungry stares. the second your matching black lace thong and bra come into view, gojo whistles long and low, dramatic as ever, eyes raking over the black lace thong and matching bra like he's appraising a masterpiece, spinning you slow like you're on display. “fuuuck, look at these. shaved, wrapped up in slutty little bows—someone was hoping to get fucked tonight.” his fingers snap the strap of your thong against your hip, the sting making you yelp. “these too. off. now. don't be shy—we've seen tits before, promise. i wanna see tits.”

you roll your eyes but obey, unhooking the bra and sliding the thong down your legs until you're completely naked, flushed and trembling between two fully dressed idiots who look way too pleased with themselves. it's unfair—gojo in his black shirt and sweats, geto still in that tank that clings to every muscle. it's unfair, it's humiliating, and it's doing horrible things to the heat pooling between your thighs.

geto drifts over to the nightstand drawer, pulling it open with a casual rattle that makes your heart kick. he lifts out a thick, curved wand vibrator—shiny black silicone, clearly expensive and mean—and a smaller bullet vibe for good measure,  with a flared tip clearly designed for g-spots and ruin. your voice comes out smaller than you'd like. “suguru… what exactly are you planning to do with those?”

he turns back, smirk slow and filthy, holding the wand up like a trophy. “told you. scientific experiment. wanna see if that idiot was right… or if we can make you squirt so hard you forget his name. purely scientific.”

before you can protest, gojo's behind you again, his blindfold already off his face and dangling from his fingers, the soft black fabric warm from his skin. in one smooth, practiced motion he loops it over your eyes and ties it snug at the back of your head. everything goes dark—pitch black, no hints of light, no shape, just sudden, overwhelming nothingness that spikes panic through your chest.

“satoru—what the fuck—why are you blindfolding me?!” you squeak, hands flying up to tug at the knot, heart racing. “take it off, i don't—”

they both burst out laughing—gojo's high and manic, geto's low and fond—like you've told the world's cutest joke. “shhh, relax, sweetheart,” gojo coos right against your ear, hands sliding down your arms to calm you even as his voice drips with mockery. catching your wrists and pinning them gently to your sides. “it's better this way— it's more fun this way. no seeing, just feeling—feel everything. no peeking, no distractions. just us and that pretty pussy. trust us.”

“yeah,” geto adds from somewhere lower, voice dripping with fake reassurance, “stop freaking out or we'll have to tie your hands too. be a good girl.” i'm a good girl.

you whine, a soft, frustrated “nngh”, that only makes them chuckle harder, but you stop fighting because the darkness is already doing things to you—heightening every sense until the air feels thick, every breath louder. you feel the mattress dip as gojo guides you to sit on the edge, his chest presses against your back a second later—he's climbed behind you, sitting up against the headboard and pulling you between his spread legs so your back is flush to his front, his hard cock nestled hot and heavy against the curve of your ass through his sweatpants. his hands splay over your stomach, fingers tracing lazy circles, holding you open and pinned.

geto settles on the floor between your legs—you hear the soft thud of his knees hitting the rug, feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your inner thighs. “come here, baby,” he murmurs, big hands wrapping around your thighs and tugging you down the bed until your ass is right at the edge, legs draped over his broad shoulders. “spread for me. wider. there we go… fuck, look how pretty she is.”

you can't see a thing. just feel—feel geto's rough palms keeping your thighs forced open, the cool air kissing your slick, exposed folds; feel the anticipation coil so tight in your belly you're already trembling; gojo's chest rising and falling against your back—heart thudding against your spine, his cock twitching every time you squirm; his fingers tracing lazy, teasing circles over your ribs and stomach, brushing just shy of your breasts.

geto hums, satisfied and mean. “let's find out, yeah?”

the vibrator clicks on with a low, ominous buzz that fills the quiet room like a threat, and before you can brace yourself the rounded head is pressed right against your clit—steady, relentless pressure that has your hips jerking up with a sharp, broken “ah— fuck!” you cry out instantly, hips bucking hard, the sudden intensity ripping a sharp, broken moan from your throat as pleasure slams through you white-hot and overwhelming.

gojo laughs softly behind you, one hand sliding up to cup your breast and roll your nipple between his fingers. “there we go. no squirting yet, but listen to those pretty sounds. we're just getting started, baby. hold still… or don't. makes it more fun when you thrash.”

the vibe circles slow, then faster, geto's free hand coming up to spread your lips wider, exposing every sensitive inch to the torture. your world narrows to vibration and heat and their voices—sweet, filthy, affectionate torment promising they're nowhere near done finding out exactly what your body can do tonight.

geto circles the wand slow, then presses harder, the vibrations sinking deep into your clit until your thighs shake against his grip. “feel that? all for science,” he teases, voice affectionate and utterly merciless. “gonna keep you right here until we figure it out… or until you're crying and begging. whichever comes first.”

they are so fucking relentless—like twin devils who've decided your body is their new favorite toy and breaking you is the only acceptable outcome tonight. the wand never stays in one place long enough for you to chase the high; geto wields it like he's dumbledore with a particularly filthy spell, swirling it in tight, maddening circles over your clit one second, then dragging it down to buzz against your entrance the next, then pulling it away completely just to watch you whine and buck into empty air. every time that coil in your belly tightens, every time your breath hitches and your pussy flutters with the promise of something huge, he eases off—slows the vibe to a teasing hum or lifts it entirely, letting the sudden loss punch the air from your lungs in a frustrated, trembling sob.

“nngh— please, fuck. . .” you cry out, voice cracking high and desperate, hips chasing the wand like a pathetic little puppy. your thighs are already shaking uncontrollably, muscles jumping and quivering against geto's shoulders, slick dripping down your ass to soak the sheets beneath you.

geto hums, low and thoughtful, like he's conducting an actual experiment. “hmm, not yet. she’s getting close though—feel her twitching?” he murmurs, and you feel one of his big hands leave your thigh, the sudden absence making that leg slip off his shoulder and fall toward the bed. before you can close it even an inch, gojo's hand is there—long fingers wrapping around your thigh from behind, yanking it back open and pinning it wide against your chest so you're spread obscenely, pussy on full display for geto's torment. asshole.

“gotcha,” gojo chuckles right against your ear, breath hot and teasing, his grip iron-strong as he holds you splayed for his best friend. “wider, baby. suguru needs room to work his magic.”

geto takes the invitation immediately—of course he does—pressing the wand harder now, sliding it lower to nudge right against your entrance, letting the thick head buzz just inside your hole without pushing in, just vibrating against your sensitive walls until your back arches off gojo's chest with a broken wail. "ahh— suguru, pleaseee," you sob, eyes squeezed shut so tight behind the blindfold that you see stars anyway, hands scrabbling blindly for something, anything to hold onto. your fingers finally find purchase behind you, nails digging into the warm skin of gojo's neck as you clutch him like he's the only solid thing in the spinning dark.

"aww, look at her," gojo coos, voice all fake sympathy and real amusement, tilting his head to nip at your jaw while his free hand roams your stomach, tracing the trembling muscles there. "shaking like a leaf already. poor little pussy can't decide if it wants to come or cry first."

"both," geto answers for you, voice calm and cruel as he pulls the wand away again right as your hips start grinding down desperately, leaving you empty and aching. "definitely both. listen to her—whining like we stole her candy."

you are whining—high, wet, pathetic sounds spilling out with every breath, "please, please, don't stop, i was so close. . . " tears actually gathering behind the blindfold now because they're edging you so ruthlessly, building and building like a fucking Fix-it Felix, Jr— that pressure until it's a physical ache low in your belly, then ripping it away like it's a game, crumble like they are Wreck it Ralph. your whole body is shaking uncontrollably, thighs spasming in their grips, pussy clenching around nothing so hard it hurts.

gojo's cock is a steel bar against your lower back, throbbing every time you moan his name or dig your nails deeper into his neck. "fuck, you're cute when you're desperate," he whispers, lips brushing your temple in a kiss that's way too soft for how mean they're being. "gonna keep you right here on the edge all night if we have to. science takes time, sweetheart." science my ass.

geto drags the wand up again, pressing it directly to your swollen clit and cranking the speed higher—merciless, unrelenting vibration that has you screaming almost instantly, a raw, “fuck— ah, ah, ah—!" ripping from your throat as your hips jerk wildly. he holds it there for five agonizing seconds, ten, letting the pleasure crest so high you're dizzy with it—then pulls it away again, just as you're teetering right on the brink.

"no—no no no—pleaseee," you sob outright this time, actual tears soaking into the blindfold, body thrashing between them as the ruined orgasm pulses through you without release, leaving you wrecked and empty and shaking harder than ever.

geto leans in—you feel his hair brush your inner thigh—and presses a soft, affectionate kiss to your dripping folds like he's praising you for taking it so well. "good girl," he murmurs against your pussy, voice vibrating through your clit. "we're getting somewhere. just a little more data. . ."

gojo tightens his arm around your waist, holding you steady as you tremble and cry and beg, his lips brushing your ear in that loving, menacing way only he can manage. "shhh, we've got you. not done playing yet. gonna make you squirt so hard you see stars behind that blindfold—or we're gonna die trying. either way, you're ours tonight."

and they dive back in—wand buzzing to life again, gojo's fingers pinching your nipples in time with geto's ruthless patterns, their voices overlapping in filthy praise and mockery as they edge you over and over and over, relentless and mean and so stupidly affectionate about every sobbing, shaking second of it.

after what feels like hours of their stupid, relentless edging game—your body reduced to a quivering, sweat-drenched wreck, blindfold clinging wetly to your tear-streaked cheeks, every muscle twitching like a live wire, voice hoarse from begging and sobbing their names in broken loops—they finally take pity. or maybe they just decide the data is conclusive, or finally decide you've suffered enough for their little ‘experiment’. . . geto presses the thick head of the wand flush against your clit again, no more games, no more teasing circles or cruel pull-aways, just brutal, steady pressure on the highest setting he'd dared so far— high-speed vibration that sinks straight into your core like a lightning strike. the buzz so intense it feels like it's vibrating your bones.

gojo's grip on your thigh tightens, his other hand back to sliding up to pinch and roll your nipple in time with the rhythm, whispering filthy little encouragements right against your ear like, “come on, baby, give it to us. soak him. show us how much that dumb fucker missed.”

the orgasm doesn't creep up—it crashes, it detonates. your whole body locks up, spine snapping into a harsh arch as the pleasure rips through you like a tidal wave. one second you're teetering on that agonizing edge again, hips grinding desperately, and the next your entire body seizes up with a violent, full-body shudder.

“fuck— ah, ah, aah— i'm—!” you scream, the sound raw and ugly and perfect, back arching off gojo's chest so hard your spine bows like a drawn bowstring. your pussy clenches hard, then gushes—a hot, forceful rush of liquid that sprays out in messy arcs, splattering geto's face and soaking the front of his tank top in seconds. he doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away; if anything he leans into it, mouth open just enough that some of it hits his tongue, a low, satisfied groan rumbling out of him as he keeps the wand pinned right where it hurts-so-good.

you squirt and squirt, longer than you thought possible, wave after wave, thighs shaking so violently gojo has to brace you or you'd thrash right off the bed or to keep you from kicking geto in the face. “nngh— stop, stop, too much,” you sob, actual tears streaming down your cheeks under the blindfold now, but geto doesn't care—doesn't even pretend to.

he keeps the wand exactly where it is, buzzing mercilessly against your oversensitive clit and laps at your dripping folds between the sprays like he's savoring every drop— broad, filthy strokes of his tongue dragging from your spasming entrance up to your clit, swirling around the buzzing toy like he's trying to drink you dry. his tongue is hot and rough, dragging from your entrance up to swirl around the vibe, pushing you straight into a second, even more brutal climax before the first has fully faded. the overstimulation is excruciating, pleasure twisted into something almost painful, and you scream again, high and broken, “no, no, ahh— fuck, suguru!" as he assaults your pussy without a shred of remorse.

“that's it, pretty girl,” he praises between licks, voice muffled and vibrating against your folds, hands gripping your ass to tilt you higher into his mouth. “give me everything. fucking drown me—good girl, so good."

it isn't long before the second wave hits—the second squirt is obscene—stronger, messier, your body barely recovered from the first before hitting geto's chest in thick streams. geto finally pulls his face back just in time to watch it, eyes dark and hungry, lips shiny with you as he cranks the wand to its absolute highest setting without warning. the sudden spike in vibration rips a scream from your throat, "suguru— no, no, please, i can't— ahh!"

geto hums, tossing the wand aside for a second but not done—not even close. his fingers replace it immediately, rubbing fast, tight circles over your throbbing clit, slick and relentless, forcing the last spurts out of you in messy little bursts. “come on, baby, one more. empty it all out for us.”

the squirt erupts in a powerful stream, clear and hot, splashing across his chest and collarbones, rolling down in rivulets that disappear into his waistband. gojo whistles low and impressed behind you, fingers digging into your thighs as he watches over your shoulder.

your hips jerking so hard your ass lifts clean off the bed, whole lower body suspended in the air, leaning entirely against gojo's chest as you shake and gush and fall apart all over again.

“holy shit,” gojo laughs, breathless and delighted, nuzzling your neck. “that idiot you went on a date with? he'd be eating his own words right now if he saw this. ‘girls who can't squirt’—yeah, right. look at you, turning suguru into a fucking fountain show. guy must feel so stupid, passing up all this."

you think—hope—that after this you'll finally get peace, get to float down into that soft, boneless quiet. but no. these are your enemies, after all, mean and perverted to the core, and they love nothing more than pushing until you're crying for real.

gojo's hand comes down in a sharp, wet slap against your hypersensitive pussy—light enough not to bruise, but stinging like fire on raw nerves. you jolt with a strangled wail, another surprised gush squirting out in response, and he does it again—slap, slap—each one perfectly timed to make you spray more, body convulsing violently between them. "satoruuuu— stop, please, i can't—" you sob, but it's useless; your hips lift clean off the bed on instinct, whole lower body suspended in the air from the force of the shaking, leaning entirely against gojo's chest as your ass clenches and your thighs spasm out of control.

one hand flies forward blindly, fingers tangling desperately in geto's damp hair, tugging hard for any kind of anchor as the pleasure-pain overwhelms you. the other claws backward, nails digging deep into gojo's forearm where he's still holding you open, leaving red crescents he's definitely going to brag about later. you're a complete mess—whimpering, shaking, squirting in weak little pulses now with every slap until there's nothing left but tremors and the wet sounds of your ruined pussy.

gojo laughs, breathless and delighted. the impact forces another surprised spurt out of you, smaller but no less humiliating, and you wail as your hips buck involuntarily. "fuck, look at that," he croons, voice dripping with smug affection, slapping again—once, twice—each one making you squirt a little more until your thighs are trembling so badly you can't hold the position anymore. your ass collapses back onto the soaked sheets with a wet thud, body going completely limp against gojo's front, chest heaving, little aftershock twitches rippling through you every few seconds.

finally, mercifully, gojo stops the slapping. his fingers turn gentle instead, tracing soft, soothing figure-eights over your clit, easing you down with slow, feather-light strokes that make you twitch and whine but in a softer way now. "shhh, there we go," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your sweaty temple. "good girl. fuck, you're perfect."

geto finally—finally—clicks the vibrator off and tosses it aside fully, the sudden silence deafening except for your ragged breathing and the wet sounds of him licking his lips. he leans in again, pressing soft, reverent kisses to your inner thighs, your fluttering entrance, your abused clit like he's apologizing and praising all at once.

"good fucking girl," he murmurs against your skin, voice rough with want, hands stroking soothing patterns over your shaking legs. "told you we could make you. that guy you went out with? he'd be kicking himself so hard right now if he knew how much you can squirt when someone's actually competent."

gojo snickers, nuzzling into your damp temple, fingers idly tracing the mess on your stomach where some of it splashed back. "seriously. imagine his dumb face—'i don't fuck girls who can't squirt'—and here you are, turning suguru into a human sprinkler twice in a row. idiot probably couldn't find a g-spot if it had a neon sign." he slaps your pussy one last playful time, lighter now, just to watch you jolt and whimper pathetically. "bet he'd cry harder than you did if he saw this."

you can't even form words—just little broken sobs and whimpers, body utterly spent and boneless between them, blindfold still on, world reduced to the feel of their hands petting you down from the high. geto climbs up onto the bed properly, knees slotting between your trembling legs, hands sliding under your knees to push them up and back until you're nearly folded in half—ass lifted, pussy still dripping and exposed.

he lets one leg slide off his shoulder gently, then reaches up to finally—finally—untie the blindfold. the fabric falls away and light floods in, dim and warm from the dorm lamps, but still blinding after so long in darkness. you blink sluggishly, eyes watery and unfocused, vision hazy with lust and exhaustion and that floaty, drunk kind of bliss. everything feels soft around the edges, like you're underwater—geto's face swimming into view first, hair damp and falling forward in dark strands, a few droplets still clinging to his lashes and lips, that affectionate menace softened into something almost tender.

he leans down slow, presses the gentlest butterfly kisses to your forehead—one, two, three—lips lingering each time like he's tasting the salt of your tears and sweat. "there you go," he whispers, voice rough but impossibly soft now, thumb stroking your cheek. "hi, pretty girl. you back with us?"

you laugh—it's breathless, watery, a little hysterical around the edges—and nod slow, words thick and fuzzy in your throat. "yeah... so good. fuck, so good."

gojo chuckles behind you, arms loosening to cradle you properly now, one hand petting your hair like you're a kitten. "look at her, all fucked out and smiley. cutest thing ever."

"proud of you, princess," geto adds quietly, crawling up to cage you between them, both of them still fully dressed while you're a naked, shivering mess covered in your own slick. "experiment success. conclusion: you're perfect exactly how you are, and that guy can go drown in a puddle for all we care."

you manage a weak, watery laugh that turns into another hiccuping sob, burying your face in geto's neck while he spoons you from the front, their arms wrapping around you in a tangle of warmth and lingering menace. they're not done with you—not even close—but for now they let you come down, murmuring sweet, stupid, filthy praise into your skin until the shaking stops and all that's left is the slow, heavy thud of three hearts beating way too fast in the quiet dorm room, sheets absolutely ruined and no one giving a single damn.

for a moment it's just that—soft and sweet, their hands gentle, voices low and fond, letting you float in the afterglow while your body twitches with little aftershocks. geto's still between your legs, chest glistening with you, tank top absolutely ruined, and gojo's cock is still hard as steel against your back, but they're giving you this tiny pocket of peace, murmuring praise like "did so well for us" and "perfect little mess" and "love how you shake when you come undone."

but of course it doesn't last. they're mean, after all—lovingly, affectionately, stupidly mean.

geto's warm smile twists slow into something wicked again, eyes glinting as he picks up the discarded wand, still slick with you, and bops you lightly on the nose with it—boop—like it's a toy hammer. "aww, look at that face," he coos, voice dripping with fake innocence. "all hazy and happy. but now that we've proven you can squirt like a fucking champ... think you're ready to take some real cock, princess?"

he tosses the vibrator away from within reach, somewhere across the room—it lands with a thud on a pile of laundry—and leans in closer, hands sliding up your thighs to spread you wider again, cocky grin sharp and hungry. gojo laughs high behind you, fingers dipping down to tease your dripping entrance, already plotting round two.

because peace? rest? not tonight. not with these two. they're just getting started ruining you properly, and the look in their eyes says you're not leaving this bed until you've forgotten every dumb boy who ever made you doubt how fucking incredible you are.

especially now when geto rises from the bed like some kind of dark god finally shedding the last of his mortal clothes, tank top peeled off and tossed somewhere into the corner with a wet slap—still soaked from your earlier mess—and his sweatpants follow, kicked aside without ceremony. he's butt naked now, all lean muscle and cursed energy humming under inked skin, cock standing proud and thick in his hand as he strokes it once, slow and lazy, precum already beading at the flushed tip like he's been edging himself just watching you fall apart. his hair is still damp, strands clinging to his forehead and neck, and that wicked, affectionate smirk hasn't left his face once.

behind you—no, under you—gojo has maneuvered you both to the edge of the bed, his long legs planted firm on the floor like he's anchoring the whole damn world. he's naked too now, shirt and sweats vanished in that effortless way he does everything, pale skin and ridiculous abs on full display, cock hot and impossibly hard against the curve of your ass. his hands are on your hips, big and steady, guiding you to straddle him reverse—back to his chest, thighs spread wide over his—so you're sitting pretty on his lap like a throne made of pure torment. the position leaves you completely exposed, pussy still twitching and dripping from everything they just did to you, and gojo doesn't waste time lining himself up, the fat head of his cock nudging your entrance, slick and insistent.

but god, you're sensitive—every little brush feels like fire and electricity and too much all at once, your folds swollen and raw from the wand and the slapping and the squirting until you're a whimpering mess before he's even inside. “wait— fuck, satoru, i'm so sensitive, please, slow. . . " you complain, voice cracking high and pathetic, hands flailing for something to hold as your thighs already start shaking again. they don't listen. of course they don't and your whining only makes their eyes gleam darker.

gojo chuckles low against your ear, breath hot and teasing as he circles his tip through your folds, gathering wetness just to torture you more. "aww, poor baby, too sensitive? but look how you're still dripping for it. you can take it, princess—we know you can. you've been begging with that pussy all night."

geto steps closer, still stroking himself slow, thumb swiping over his leaking slit as he watches gojo tease you. "yeah. . . don't be weak now," he adds, voice all velvet cruelty and fake sympathy. "you just squirted like a champion—twice, or three times? this is the reward. real cock, like we promised. be good and take it."

you curse under your breath, but your hips are already rocking back instinctively, chasing the pressure despite the overstimulation, and gojo takes that as permission. he pushes in—slow at first, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open, your walls fluttering wildly around him from how sensitive you are. it's too much and perfect and overwhelming, the drag burning in the best way until he bottoms out with a final thrust that seats him deep, balls pressed against your ass.

a full, broken whimper tears out of you, “fuck, satoru, you're—" your thighs shaking harder now, weak and jelly-like as the overwhelming fullness hits you all at once. your hands scramble blindly forward for support, fingers finding geto's hips, then his hand, clutching desperately as you try to breathe through it.

geto threads his fingers with yours immediately, squeezing gentle and steady, letting you grip as hard as you need while you adjust. "there you go," he murmurs, soft for a second, thumb stroking your knuckles even as his other hand keeps lazily pumping his cock. "breathe, baby. you've got him all the way in. look at you—taking it so pretty."

both of them chuckle at the same time—gojo's high and unhinged, geto's low and fond—when your legs keep trembling like you might collapse any second.

"so weak already," gojo teases, hands sliding up to grip your waist, lifting you just an inch before dropping you back down slow, making you feel every ridge of him. "one orgasm—or three—and you're shaking like a leaf. cute."

"fuck you both," you manage to gasp out, voice wobbly and hoarse, but there's no heat in it—just needy frustration as your head falls back against gojo's shoulder.

another soft whisper of a moan slips out, "mmh," as gojo starts moving your hips for you, slow ups and downs that have his cock dragging against your oversensitive walls in the most filthy, perfect way. geto steps even closer at the sound, until you're face-to-cock with him, the musky heat of him filling your senses, precum dripping in a slow bead down his shaft.

but he doesn't force it—not yet. instead he lets you lean forward, forehead pressing against the warm, hard plane of his stomach, breath coming in hot little pants against his skin as you try to ground yourself. his free hand comes up to pet your hair, fingers threading gentle and soothing, nails scratching lightly at your scalp while his other keeps stroking himself right in front of your face, slow and deliberate, the wet sound of it mixing with your whimpers and the slick slide of gojo inside you.

"good girl," geto praises softly, voice rough with want, tilting your head just enough so your cheek brushes the side of his cock, leaving a shiny streak of precum on your skin. "just relax. let satoru fuck you open a little more. then you'll take me too—gonna fill you from both ends until you're crying again, but the happy kind this time, yeah?"

gojo laughs breathlessly behind you, hips starting to roll up to meet the slow drop of yours, pace picking up just enough to make you moan louder. "fuck, she's clenching already. hear that, suguru? all that big talk about being too sensitive, and her pussy's trying to milk me dry."

you whimper against geto's stomach, thighs still shaking, hand squeezing his tighter as the pleasure builds again—slow, deep, relentless—sandwiched between your two favorite enemies who are finally, finally giving you what you've needed all night, mean and sweet and stupidly affectionate about every second of it.

geto lets gojo have his moment, because that's what best friends do—share the spotlight, especially when the spotlight is a trembling, cockdrunk girl impaled on one of their dicks and making the prettiest broken sounds against the other's stomach. he's patient like that, a saint in pervert's clothing, standing there with his hand wrapped loose around his throbbing cock, stroking slow and steady, thumb swiping over the slick head every few pumps to spread the precum that's been leaking nonstop since you first squirted all over him.

his dark eyes are heavy-lidded, fixed on the scene in front of him like it's the best porn he's ever seen: you, forehead pressed to his abs, lips parted and drooling a little onto his skin from how overwhelmed you are, while gojo's hips roll up slow and deep from underneath, fucking into you with that lazy, relentless rhythm that makes your pussy hug him tighter and tighter.

every thrust drags a new sound out of you—high, wet moans that turn into little cries, your breath hitching hot and damp against geto's stomach, leaving shiny trails of saliva that cool in the dorm air. it's filthy and perfect, and geto doesn't mind the mess one bit; if anything it makes his cock twitch harder in his fist, another bead of precum dripping down his shaft as he watches gojo's face twist in pure ecstasy. gojo's head is tipped back against the headboard for a second, white lashes fluttering, mouth open on a silent groan before he lets out this low, drawn-out "fuuuck" that rumbles through his chest and into your back.

geto hears it all—your moans climbing higher, gojo's breathing getting rougher, the wet slap of skin where gojo's lifting and dropping your hips just enough to make his cock drag against every sensitive spot inside you. it's intimate in the dumbest, dirtiest way, and geto is patient, stroking himself to the rhythm of gojo's thrusts, letting his best friend chase that edge while he enjoys the show. but god, the sounds you're making—those broken little whimpers vibrating against his skin, the way your fingers keep flexing in his hand like you're barely holding on—are starting to chip away at that saintly restraint.

he's heard gojo fuck before, plenty of times actually, thin dorm walls and all that. random girls giggling their way in, then moaning their way out hours later, gojo's voice carrying through the plaster with cocky laughter and the occasional dramatic groan. but this? this is different. you've got gojo making sounds geto has never heard from him—deeper, more desperate, like you're pulling them straight from his soul. his eyes are rolling back now, blue peeking white under half-closed lids, lips parted on gasps that turn into your name chanted like a prayer.

geto snorts, low and amused, dark hair falling into his eyes as he tilts his head. "that good, huh?" he asks, voice rough with his own want, hand still moving slow on his cock. "never heard you sound this pathetic, satoru."

gojo laughs—breathless, wrecked, absolutely unhinged—as he snaps his hips up harder, making you cry out sharp and sudden against geto's stomach. "fuck off, suguru— she's... nngh... she's perfect. like her pussy was made for me. gonna wife this shit up, keep her full forever—romantic as fuck, right?"

it's the dumbest, most gojo thing anyone's ever said—stupidly romantic and utterly disgusting all at once, like he's proposing marriage mid-stroke while balls-deep in you. geto bark-laughs, head shaking, but his cock jumps in his hand because yeah, he gets it. you're clenching again, pussy fluttering wild around gojo from the praise or the thrust or both, and the sound you make is so cockdrunk and ruined that geto feels his patience snap like a frayed wire.

you can't even respond to gojo's idiot declaration—just another wet, open-mouthed moan against geto's skin, drool pooling at the corner of your lips, eyes glassy and unfocused like your brain's checked out and left your body on autopilot. you're too far gone, too stupid on cock, and seeing you like that—knowing he helped put you there—makes geto greedy in a way that's almost mean.

he lets go of your hand gently, both of his sliding up now—one fisting your hair at the roots, firm but not painful, angling your face away from his stomach and up toward his cock. the other guides the flushed, leaking head to your lips, slapping it once, twice, wet and heavy against your mouth, leaving shiny streaks of precum across your cheek and lower lip. "open up, princess," he murmurs, voice velvet and dangerous, thumb stroking your jaw like encouragement. "you can multitask, right? been taking satoru so well—now take me too. greedy girls get both."

you whimper—high and needy, muffled against his cock as he taps it again, smearing more precum over your lips until they glisten. your tongue darts out instinctively, licking at the tip, tasting salt and him, and geto groans low, hips twitching forward just enough to slide the head past your lips. "mmh—" you moan around him, the vibration making his thighs tense, and gojo laughs breathlessly behind you, hands tightening on your hips to speed up the slow grind.

"fuck, look at her," gojo gasps, voice cracking as your pussy clamps down harder from the new stretch in your mouth. "taking both like she was born for it. our perfect little slut."

geto slides deeper—slow, letting you adjust, feeling your tongue flatten against the underside of him as you suck messily, drool already spilling down your chin to drip onto your chest. his hand in your hair pets gentle now, affectionate and guiding, while gojo keeps bouncing you on his lap, the two of them finding a rhythm that has you stuffed full from both ends, moaning nonstop around geto's cock while your body shakes and clenches and drips between them.

it's overwhelming and perfect and so stupidly loving—the way geto's thumb wipes the drool from your chin even as he fucks your mouth deeper, the way gojo's whispering absolute filth about keeping you forever while his hands bruise your hips, both of them watching you fall apart with that mean, fond gleam in their eyes like you're the best thing that's ever happened to their dumb, perverted hearts. and maybe you are.

they keep fucking you like it's a competition to see who can wreck you sweeter—gojo from below, hips rolling up in that lazy, deep grind that makes his cock kiss your cervix on every upstroke, hands gripping your waist like he's steering a particularly fun ride. geto in front, feeding you his cock inch by thick inch, the salty taste of him flooding your tongue while your drool spills down your chin in messy strings. the room is nothing but wet sounds—skin slapping skin, your muffled moans vibrating around geto, gojo's breathy laughter mixing with low groans every time your pussy clamps down like it's trying to trap him forever.

they're high on praise tonight, drunk on how perfectly you fall apart between them. "fuck, listen to her," gojo gasps, voice cracking as your walls flutter again. "pussy's singing for me—nngh—good girl, keep squeezing like that." geto hums agreement, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watches his cock disappear between your swollen lips. "taking us so well, princess. look at you—mouth full, pussy full, still greedy for more."

geto's hand tightens in your hair—fingers twisting at the roots just hard enough to sting sweet—before his other slides forward, long fingers wrapping around your throat in a firm, possessive collar. not squeezing hard, just there, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point so he can feel how fast your heart's racing for them. the pressure makes you groan deep in your chest, "mmph." the vibration humming straight into geto's cock, and your pussy reacts instantly, clamping down hard on gojo like a vice.

gojo jolts behind you, hips stuttering as he lets out a wrecked, "fuuuuck, yes." his nails digging crescents into your hips. "did you feel that, suguru? she just tried to milk me dry when you choked her a little. kinky little thing."

geto definitely feels it—feels his own cock sliding deeper into the wet heat of your throat, feels the way your muscles flutter and swallow around him every time gojo thrusts up. it pulls a rough groan from his chest, low and filthy, hips twitching forward involuntarily. "shit— yeahh. . . i felt it. throat's doing the same thing. greedy on both ends."

he tugs your hair sharper, angling your head back just enough to push deeper, sliding past your tongue until the head nudges the back of your throat. he holds you there—patient but merciless—watching your eyes water, feeling your throat spasm open and close around him in panicked little swallows.

"that's it," he praises, voice gravel-rough with affection, thumb stroking your cheek even as he keeps you pinned. "relax your throat, baby—fuck, there we go. feel you opening up for me. perfect fucking girl." he only pulls back when your chest starts heaving, when the first real choke bubbles up around his cock—slow, letting you gasp wetly around him before he slides out with a filthy string of spit connecting your lips to his tip.

you cough hard, collapsing forward against gojo's shoulder as you suck in desperate breaths, face messy with drool and tears and precum. "you—cough—fucking asshole, i couldn't breathe," you rasp, voice hoarse and wrecked, but your hips are still rolling back onto gojo like your body can't decide if it wants to fight or fuck.

geto just hums, low and amused, petting your hair once like you're a bratty cat. "now you can," he says simply, tugging your head back up by the roots until your lips brush his cock again. "open up, princess. we're not done."

you do—because of course you do—tongue lolling out obediently as he slides back in, easier this time, your throat already pliant from the abuse. gojo keeps fucking you through it, slow and deep, cooing soft praise into your ear about how pretty you look choking on suguru while riding him.

after a while—minutes? hours? time's meaningless when you're stuffed full like this—geto pulls out with a wet pop, hand stroking your cheek as he looks over your head at gojo. "switch," he says, voice calm but edged with hunger.

gojo whines immediately—high, dramatic, ridiculous. "nooo, i'm just getting into it—fuck, her pussy's perfect right now, all swollen and hot—"

geto snorts, already pulling his cock from your mouth with a slick slide. "you've been balls-deep in her pussy for ages, satoru. my turn. if you don't wanna share, go fuck your fist like a big boy."

gojo groans long and suffering, but he obeys—hands sliding to your ass, giving it one sharp, resounding slap that makes you yelp around nothing and your pussy clench on empty air. he spreads the cheek, presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the stinging skin like an apology, then grumbles as he lifts you off his cock with a filthy wet sound. you whimper at the loss—high and pathetic—legs shaking harder now that you're not filled.

geto wraps an arm around your waist immediately, strong and steady, hauling you up to stand on wobbly feet. "up, baby," he murmurs, turning you around slow until you're face-to-face with gojo's dick—glistening with your slick, flushed angry red and twitching in his fist as he strokes himself lazily by the bed. gojo grins down at you, all sharp teeth and affection, thumb sliding into your mouth to press on your tongue. "hallo again, baby," he coos, using his cock to tap your nose lightly—boop, boop—like it's a game. "miss me already?"

geto snorts behind you, hands nudging your thighs apart wider, wider, until your legs are spread obscenely and your knees threaten to buckle. "spread, princess," he orders softly, voice gentle but firm. when your thighs start trembling harder, threatening to give out, he presses his chest to your back, arm tightening around your waist to hold you up. "no, you can do it. just a bit more—there we go. good girl."

he lines himself up slow—thick head nudging your dripping entrance, gathering your wetness before pushing in with one smooth, deep thrust that has you crying out around gojo's thumb. gojo pulls it out with a pop, replacing it immediately with his cock, sliding into your mouth as geto bottoms out behind you.

sandwiched again—geto buried to the hilt in your pussy, gojo feeding you his slick-coated cock until your lips stretch wide around him. they find their rhythm fast, gojo's hands in your hair now, geto's arm banded across your stomach, both of them moving like they've done this a thousand times— maybe in dreams, maybe in fantasy, but now it's real and overwhelming and so stupidly loving.

"fuck, taste yourself on me?" gojo groans, hips rocking shallow into your mouth. "sweetest thing ever."

geto thrusts deeper, hand sliding up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple in time with his strokes. "pussy's even tighter from this side," he mutters against your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin. "gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby. just us from now on."

and you believe him—believe both of them—moaning broken around gojo's cock as they fuck you standing, legs shaking, body held up only by their strength and greed and that mean, affectionate way they have of never letting you fall.

after a while, the rhythm settles into something hypnotic and brutal—geto behind you, cock buried deep in your pussy with every slow, deliberate thrust that drags against your oversensitive walls like he's trying to map every inch of you from the inside; gojo in front, feeding his slick-coated dick into your mouth in shallow, teasing pumps that make you choke and drool and moan around him like a desperate little thing.

your legs are barely holding you up anymore, thighs trembling nonstop, knees threatening to buckle with every roll of geto's hips, but his arm banded across your waist keeps you pinned upright, impaled and helpless between them. the dorm air is thick with the smell of sex—sweat and slick and precum—and the sounds are obscene: wet slaps from behind, gagging whimpers from your throat, their mixed groans overlapping in filthy harmony.

geto starts losing it first, the patience he's been clinging to finally cracking like thin ice. it begins with a low groan rumbling from his chest, deeper than before, eyes fluttering half-shut as his head tips back for a second. then his eyes roll—just like gojo's did earlier—white peeking under dark lashes as your pussy clamps down on him again, fluttering wild and greedy from gojo's cock nudging the back of your throat. "fuuuuck," he breathes, voice rough and wrecked, hips stuttering for the first time. "okay, i get it now. i fucking get why you were making those stupid sounds, satoru. this pussy—shit—it's heaven. gripping me like it doesn't want me to leave."

gojo laughs breathlessly around a moan, fingers tightening in your hair as he watches geto's composure shatter over your shoulder. "told you, asshole. she's unreal. wait till she comes again—gonna suck your soul right out."

geto doesn't answer with words—just a rough, affectionate growl as his hands slide up your arms, grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind your back in one strong grip, arching your spine and forcing your chest out. the new angle changes everything; his cock hits deeper, harder, dragging against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids even with gojo still fucking your mouth. "hold still, princess," geto mutters against your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin before he bites down lightly. "gonna fuck you proper now."

and he does—merciless. hips snapping forward faster, harder, the wet slap of his balls against your ass echoing loud in the room as he rails you standing, your body jolting forward onto gojo's cock with every thrust. you choke around gojo, "mmph— guh. . . " drool spilling down your chin in thick strings, tears streaking your cheeks from the overwhelming fullness. your pussy's making the filthiest sounds, squelching wet and loud, and geto groans like he's dying, eyes rolling again as he pounds into you.

"nngh— fuck, take it, take it," he pants, voice cracking with affection and menace. "pussy's so fucking good—milking me already. you love this, don't you? stuffed from both ends like our perfect little toy."

you can't answer properly—just muffled, cockdrunk moans around gojo, your tongue swirling sloppy and desperate because it's all you can do. gojo's hips start moving faster too, matching geto's brutal pace, fucking your throat in shallow thrusts that make your eyes water more. "yeah, she loves it," he gasps, thumb wiping a tear from your cheek even as he pushes deeper. "look at her—crying and still sucking like she needs it to breathe."

it's too much and perfect and stupidly loving, your body shaking between them as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter, pussy fluttering wild around geto, throat swallowing convulsively around gojo. you're close again—teetering on that edge they've been dancing you along all night—and they feel it, both of them groaning in unison as your body tightens.

"fuck— she's gonna come," geto grits out, thrusts turning erratic, grip on your wrists bruising now. "pussy's clamping—shit—gonna make me—"

gojo pulls out of your mouth suddenly with a wet pop, hand fisting your hair to tilt your face up as he strokes himself fast and sloppy. "wait—fuck, me too—gonna cum, baby, gonna—"

they both curse at the same time, voices overlapping in desperate, filthy harmony, "fuck, fuck, coming. . ." and geto pulls out of your pussy with a slick rush that leaves you empty and whining high in your throat. your legs finally give out, knees buckling as the sudden loss hits, but gojo's there instantly, hauling you down to the rug with strong hands under your arms until you're on your knees between them, shaky and wrecked and dripping.

gojo drops down from the bed too, both of them standing over you now—tall and flushed and gorgeous, cocks in hand as they stroke themselves fast and frantic, eyes locked on your face like you're the only thing in the world. "open your mouth, princess," gojo pants, voice sweet and mean all at once, free hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. "tongue out—yeahhhh, just like that. good fucking girl."

geto groans beside him, hand still pinning one of your wrists behind your back even on your knees, keeping you arched pretty for them. "gonna paint you, baby," he mutters, voice rough with affection. "deserve every drop after taking us so well."

you obey—mouth open wide, tongue lolling out obedient and desperate, eyes glassy and adoring as you look up at them. "please," you whimper, voice hoarse and small and needy. "want it—want your cum—please—"

that's all it takes. gojo comes first—high, broken moan of your name as his cock pulses, thick ropes of cum striping your face in hot, messy bursts—across your cheeks, your nose, your waiting tongue. "fuck— take it, take it all," he gasps, aiming the last spurts right into your open mouth, watching with hooded eyes as you swallow greedily.

geto follows seconds later—deep, guttural groan that sounds like it's punched out of him, hips jerking forward as he paints your face too, cum mixing with gojo's in sticky lines over your lips and chin, dripping down your neck. "shit— perfect, so perfect," he praises, voice cracking soft at the end, thumb smearing the mess across your lower lip like he's marking you.

they milk themselves dry onto you—stroking slow through the aftershocks, making sure every drop lands on your face, your tongue, your chest—until you're glazed and messy and utterly ruined, kneeling there panting with cum dripping off your chin and the biggest, dopiest smile tugging at your swollen lips.

gojo laughs first—breathless and unhinged—dropping to his knees to cup your messy face and kiss you deep and filthy, tasting himself and geto on your tongue. "fuck, look at you," he murmurs against your lips, all soft now, menace melted into pure affection. "prettiest mess we've ever made."

[blkkizzat]

❝ HIS CINDERELLA CAUSE I MAKE IT FIT ! ❞              ⤷ Enjin x Fallen Spherite!Reader

>>>>>> Apparently Enjin has all the 'luck' when it comes to finding Spherites in No Man's Land. This time he's found you—a stuck-up Spherite noble—cast out with the trash. You're prissy, needy and an overall pain in his ass. Definitely not his type—but that slutty pussy sure is. ♡

>>>>>> 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+ for filthy enjin smut. enjin & reader are delulu & down bad. big dick!enjin. size queen!reader. bimbo!reader. sex under the influence. public sex. breeding. bjs. enjin is overall diabolical. but there's also a bit of plot too with some romance/fluff/humor. no spoilers for anime/manga. >>>>>> 𝐰𝐜: 13.1k

𝐚𝐧: major special shoutouts to @honeybunnnnie my trash daddy partner in crime, who beta'd for me and gave me lots of good lil' gems I incorporated here. we share one horny brain cell when it comes to this man and the amount of headcanons we have made based on this that I didn't even include is INSANE lmfao.

You aren’t Enjin’s type. 

That much is certain the moment he stumbles upon you after being called to check out a disturbance in No Man’s Land. Scanning the terrain of garbage, Enjin wonders if he’s hallucinating.

Still high from the night before—or maybe there’s a leak in his full face?

Either way he had to be tripping absolute balls right now because what the hell else could explain the giant kaiju-like plushie with bunny ears, wide beady eyes, and jagged teeth ripping apart trash beasts in the distance like they were wet paper towels?

But blazed or not, Enjin still has a job to do. Umbreaker sweeps him across the trash dunes in a speedy blur, but by the time he arrives he is already too late and the show is over. 

All that’s left is you: a young woman passed out in a pile of demolished trash beast remains and other junk. The giant kaiju-like plushie—now inanimate and no bigger than a hand—lay beside you tethered to your person by a keyring. 

Happening upon another giver in No Man’s Land wasn’t out of the ordinary, sure, but if Enjin thought he was high from seeing your jinki in action he had to be damn near in the clouds once he recognized your clothes.  

Similar to when Enjin discovered Rudo, he could immediately tell by your dress you are a Spherite. But unlike the threadbare attire of the scrappy tribesmen teen, yours practically screams wealth. They are the finest clothes Enjin has ever laid eyes on. Appearing as if they are woven from gold itself, despite the fresh layer of grime that settled on them.

You aren’t just any ol’ Spherite—you’re a Spherite noblewoman.

Keh, interesting. 

With a shake of his head Enjin scoops you up, heading back to HQ. They aren’t gonna believe this…

Enjin digs out a backup mask from his satchel—clearly not made for your face, because it slides right off. With an annoyed sigh, he holds it in place himself. Guess that’s his job now… at least until you wake up.

Although Enjin soon discovers a pattern of how unnecessarily difficult Spherites can be upon arriving to the Abyss—as the first thing you do upon waking in Enjin’s arms is to slap the everloving dogshit out of him. 

Fuck, you have a mean right hand. 

Enjin tongues a tooth to make sure it’s still there. 

“Let me go this instant, you filthy kidnapping degenerate! I demand you to take me home!” You cry out. 

Tears fog up the mask on your face as you clearly mistook Enjin for some kind of criminal with his ‘full face’ on. Enjin sighs, tightening his grip on you and taking the not-so-painless beating you’re dishing out until you reach the nearest city. 

The very second you both are in a habitable area for breathing, Enjin unceremoniously dumps you to the ground. He catches the mask, yet he leaves you to fall straight on your ass. The fall shocks you but Enjin’s sure what’s really got you stunned is the strange bustling city surrounding you.

Removing his fullface, Enjin crouches down to eye-level with you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by the foreign place, your eyes dart around helplessly. You’re frantic, looking everywhere for some sort of bearing of where you are and avoiding the man in front of you.

Yet Enjin just waits, clicking his tongue and rocking back on his heels, for you to quiet your hysterics enough for him to get a word in.

When your eyes, still wide with panic, finally meet, he has the nerve to raise a brow—like you’re the one being dramatic and not the guy who literally kidnapped you.

“So, as you may have noticed by now…this ain’t the Sphere,” Enjin says, balancing a cigarette between his lips. 

You look at him skeptically—he says it like it’s nothing, while your world is actively falling apart. What is he even talking about?!

“I know this ain’t the welcome wagon you posh Spherites are used to but…”

Enjin pauses, exhaling smoke to the sky. Your gaze follows up, widening once you see the oddly shaped dome covering the city, a strange yellow fog in the atmosphere.

“....welcome to the Abyss, Girlie. Name’s Enjin.” 

Blankly staring at Enjin, you say nothing. The both of you in a mini stare down. Although you’re the first to give by suddenly bursting into sobs.

Rolling his eyes, a thought briefly flashes in Enjin's head that he should have just left you for the raiders. Hell, he could still leave you now—you’re calling way too much attention to yourself.

However, Enjin also figures that with you all but swimming in luxury on the Sphere, you probably thought of the Pit—your so-called Hell, or its inhabitants as mere fairytale.

Enjin’s inkling is confirmed when you calm down enough to piece together that your now ex-husband had hired a bunch of shady tribesmen to kidnap and dispose of you—all to collect your inheritance. 

Yeah, not your fault.  Enjin thinks and cuts you a break. 

For your own sake, Enjin somehow convinces you to come back to Cleaner HQ with him. He can’t return you to the Sphere himself—but he knows another Spherite who’s trying to make their way back. That small glimmer of hope is enough to lift your spirits, just barely. This time, you follow him willingly—though you still cry the entire way to HQ.

Shame how prone to hysterics you are, otherwise Enjin actually thinks you’re pretty hot. Noting how the expensive silk of your dress clings so damn well to your every curve. He’d sell your clothes while you were near the shopping district—but unlike Rudo, he doubts he could talk you out of them. 

At least—not yet.

But that thought is drastically short lived as Enjin spends more time in your presence. Sure, you could have gotten along. You could’ve even been Enjin’s type. Yet there’s one glaring problem: 

You’re an annoying, needy-ass brat.  

Besides looks, you tick off nearly every one of his dealbreakers. You’re ditzy, dependent and whiny. Basically Enjin’s nightmare.

Plus your snobby little ass never once thanked nor apologized to him over the following weeks.

Not after he saved you.

Not after he brought you back to HQ where you were welcomed with skeptical, yet open arms—as a new, very reluctant (you had no other options really) recruit in-training.

And you certainly never thanked Enjin, even after all his shit luck, when he was assigned to be your teacher and look after your haughty ass. You have the most indignant pout on your face when Corvus announces that since Enjin found you, you're Enjin’s problem.

“You have to be kidding me? I’m stuck with Trashy Poppins here!?”

“Yo, Trashy—what!?” The reference doesn’t land with Enjin but he knows it isn’t good.

Semiu nods curtly in agreement of the pairing, amused that Enjin finally has someone to keep him on his toes as she ushers you off to get settled in.

The fuck?! 

Lamenting being stuck is supposed to be Enjin’s line. Enjin had figured the logical move was to pair you with Zanka—the closest thing to nobility among the Cleaners—and let you bond with Rudo, a fellow Spherite, even if he was a tribesman.

But it doesn’t take long to realize neither boy can handle a grown ass woman like you. One flutter of your lashes and they’re useless saps—like the big sister he never had, you could soothe Rudo’s worst moods with a mere head pat. 

While Zanka, older and appreciating your more ‘robust’ qualities, trips over his own tongue trying to talk to you.

Both ready to do anything just to earn a few sweet coos—unless someone steps in.

It had to be Enjin. He was the only one who could ‘resist’ your charms.

Still, Enjin’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to you—especially training you for combat and figuring out how the hell you’re supposed to use that so-ugly-it’s-almost-cute vital instrument.

He tries not to judge. Really, he does. Jinki are personal—he knows that better than anyone. But still…the fact that you even have one? That’s wild.

A Spherite? A noble Spherite, no less—the same pompous assholes who treat the Abyss like a dumping ground—actually caring enough about something to pump it full of anima?

Yeah, that’s impressive, he’ll give you that. What wasn’t though was the name you gave the lil thing: Bubu.

Tsk. Wack as hell. Vital instruments deserve names with some bite. Something like—Umbreaker.

Still, credit where it’s due—you’re picking things up faster than expected. 

However, that doesn’t spare him from your nonstop bitching, though. The complaints come daily: the strange smells your hair absorbs, the absence of your sacred skincare routines, not being able to take a 30 minute shower, and how everything down here always tastes just a little off.

But the most absurd? The cherry blossoms.

You complain the most about not being able to frolic in your lush, petal-covered garden full of rows of cherry blossoms. Enjin’s never even seen a damn tree like that, let alone the acres of grass and flowers you describe like some bedtime fairytale. You haughtily anoint yourself as a floral herbalist, an expert when it comes to your pretty little flowers.

It’s shit like that on top of everything else that irks Enjin when it comes to you.

And yet?

Enjin thinks the most irritating thing about you is the fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

Sure, you’re annoying as fuck—but in spite of his own objections, Enjin keeps finding ways to keep your time occupied. He makes up excuses to train you longer and drags you along on missions that are solely meant for him. 

Moreover, since you can never keep that pretty little mouth shut, anyone you meet clocks you as a Spherite within seconds—which means you need Enjin’s constant protection, whether you like it or not.

Enjin ends up spending less time drinking or chasing women, finding a far more amusing pastime instead—the way your face twists in indignation every time the Ground doesn’t live up to your so-called “noble standards.” 

He gets a kick out of it, really. Agitating you on purpose, just to watch you squirm.

“Goddamnit, Enjin! Watch it!” 

You’d shriek every time your short skirt went flying from a sudden gust of wind he’d whip up with Umbreaker. Enjin saves that lil trick for No Man’s Land when the others’ backs are turned.

“That’s Enjin-sensei to you, Princess.” 

“Choke—slowly, Trashy Poppins.”

You’d lunge for his mask like you actually meant to rip it off, but at 6 '3, Enjin’s tall enough that you never have a chance at reaching it. It’s all worth it too—Enjin’s already got every pastel scrap of lace you own burned into memory, each one tucked away like a reward for getting under your skin.

It’s a little sadistic, sure—the way he taunts you nonstop, delighting in soiling that polished image of yours to grind you into the dirt of the ground right along with him. 

There’s a fire in your eyes every time Enjin dubs you as “Your Royal Trash Princess”—or just “TP” if he’s feeling lazy. You never fail to rise to his bait, eager to prove yourself—and prove him wrong.

Enjin feels he’s owed a bit of amusement for all his troubles.

Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet the more Enjin pushes, the harder it is to ignore that your bratty spark isn’t just an attitude problem. It’s energy. Real, raw passion. The kind that could actually cultivate anima. He sees it best when you’re snapping at him, flushed and defiant, too stubborn to back down.

It’s trouble to be sure, but fuck if Enjin doesn’t love coaxing it out of you.

All it took this time to get you going was him doubting your so-called knowledge of plants and remedies— “what kinda ‘floral herbalist’ hasn’t toked one?”  

So now here you are, in the HQ lounge, about to smoke your first joint as a ‘pre-game’ to the happy hour Corvus organized for all the Cleaners.

You and Enjin sit shoulder to shoulder on a worn, black quilted-leather sofa that’s seen better days. The cushions creak as you nervously smooth your skirt and settle in, unhooking your jinki—Bubu—from your belt to set her gently on the table.

Enjin rolls a few joints with unhurried precision—like he’s got all the time in the world, and watching you squirm is part of the ritual.

“Bet ya didn’t have anything like this in your lil’ garden, eh TP?” Enjin quips, breaking the silence.

Nose already upturned, your face scrunches as Enjin tosses an extra bud from his stash into your open palms. You hated the nickname ‘TP’ most of all, too easily mistaken for ‘toilet paper’ and Enjin knows that.

You shoot Enjin a dirty look before letting your focus drift back to the brittle sprig in your hands—the first real plant you’ve touched since becoming a Ground-dweller.

You think you actually recognize it. 

Back on the Sphere, your family was among the wealthiest, and your garden was massive. You took pride in your green thumb—like Delmon, whose garden you’ve been meaning to ask about. You want to help, if only to see what kind of plants can survive in conditions this toxic. But Enjin never gives you the space—always hovering, always cutting in before you can finish a full conversation.

You brush off those thoughts but your frown stays as your fingers trace the bud’s dry veins. Even for a dehydrated sample, it feels wrong—brittle in a way that hints of sickness. 

“Hmm. We had something like this—I think. But it’s just another weed.” You say shrugging.

“Heh,” Enjin smirks at your cluelessness, “Would you believe me if I told you ‘weed’ is exactly what we call it, Princess?”

You roll your eyes at the inordinately simple name. It probably has a proper scientific designation—but expecting Enjin to know it? Please.

“We always uprooted them—weeds are unsightly in gardens, you know. A weed, let alone one sick as this, would definitely be pruned right away so as to not syphon nutrients from the other plant life.”

“HAH?!”  

Mid-seal on his joint, Enjin stops cold, staring at you like you just dared to commit some sort of sacrilege before exhaling a theatrical sigh, shaking his head in pure betrayal.

He can’t believe Spherities are probably pissing away the dankest shit ever cultivated. The thought was maddening.

When Enjin’s eyes do meet yours again, there's no amusement as he takes a rather chastising tone with you.

“Princess, for your own good, never repeat that in front of anyone down here…I mean it.”

You huff, but Enjin doesn’t blink—just starts sealing the joint again, eyes never leaving you as his tongue drags slowly across the edge of the paper.

You squirm, and that’s all the reward he needs. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Enjin drawls, holding the finished joint out toward you like it’s a gift—and not a trap with your name written all over it.

Turning on teacher mode, Enjin decides to school you.

“I know we mostly have ‘reggie’ down here, but still, it’s worth its weight in gold for its purposes. Not just for fun ya know—chronic pain, nausea, anxiety—gives a bit of relief from the ailments of Abyss-living you Spherites have so graciously bestowed on us.”

From his pocket, Enjin produces a lighter, shoulders curling as he bows into the flame to set it alight.

Your eyes flick over the sinewy stretch of Enjin arms, the way his jacket strains across his shoulders—reminding you just how solid Enjin really is beneath all that shapeless fabric. Built like a weapon, hiding in plain sight.

You watch as his ringed fingers lift the joint to his lips. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Enjin sinks back into the sofa like gravity’s got a tighter hold on him than usual. Smoke pools in his chest before slipping out in a long, deliberate exhale.

His gaze follows it, distant—like he’s chewing on thoughts far heavier than anything you said… but somehow still set off by it.

“That’s the problem with you Spherites….you don’t see things the way they are—you see things the way you are.” 

Enjin chuffs at his own words, closing his eyes to let his high settle. Not even completely stoned yet and he’s already spouting off pseudo philosophical one-liners.

“Everything else is collateral, amirite?”

Ouch.

Toeing at the floor, you sulk in silence. Wounded from the verbal licks Enjin just dealt you. Mulling over his words in silence though, you know it isn’t that simple. Horticulture can be complicated even in the most ideal conditions. Just because a plant is viable doesn’t mean it belongs in every garden—some plants are just incompatible.

However…

You sit silently, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you study the brittle bud in your palm.

…that doesn’t make it worthless.

Instead of exploring any potential use, you tossed the so-called "weed" out—just like everything else the Sphere deemed useless. Not even considering how valuable it could be. You can see why Enjin wouldn't want you repeating that mistake. Enough people already looked at you with disdain as it is. 

Sure there’s a lot of things you miss about it, mostly superficial things that had to do with vanity, but overall life up there was super sterile and dull. You’d never say it out loud but you are glad you fell, it was hard on the ground but it was liberating.

Sighing, you quietly concede. You hate anytime Enjin actually has a point though. It’s the worst thing imaginable—for your pride and for his already unbearable ego.

Cracking an eye open, Enjin curses under his breath. Switching tactics, he decides to replace the long look on his Trash Princess’s face. Annoyance would do just fine. Besides, there was no need for you to pout over it, you actually had a shot at redemption here… heh, the kind that might just work out in his favor, too.

“Y’knowwwww, we’re always learnin’ better ways to grow things down here, faster too...”

Enjin moves so quietly, you don’t realize how close he is until you turn—and he’s right in your face, barely a breath away. Swiping his ringed thumb across your cheek, Enjin’s touch is surprisingly tender. However his expression is entirely obnoxious, full of amusement from how fast your pouty little face flusters.

“...could be a nice little hobby that would do alotta good…and if anyone could figure out how to grow this shit properly down here—”

Enjin plucks at the heat of your warm cheeks, pinching just enough to tease and drag the moment into something more lighthearted.

“—I do believe it could be you—Trash Princess.”

Your eyes catch something deeper than just teasing in his golden gaze—but before you can dwell on it, instinct kicks in. You jerk back, swatting his hand away, shoving whatever that was out of your mind.

Enjin just laughs, unbothered, as you glare at him.

“And why can’t you get Delmon to do it?” you counter, arms folding across your chest. By now, you’ve learned Enjin usually has an angle for everything.

Right on the mark, for a beat, Enjin actually pauses. He hadn’t expected you to bring up the obvious—Delmon, the gentle giant practically martyred to the idea of saving what’s left of the Abyss. But Enjin’s roguish grin slips back into place, spreading wider as he leans in, unapologetically invading your space.

“Why? Well...’cause I asked you, Princess. The ol’lug has enough on his plate as it is. You can handle it alone, can’t ya?”

Truthfully, even knowing your interest in Delmon never strays beyond roots and soil, it still irks every time Enjin catches sight of you with him. You look every bit the noble—graceful, composed, eyes soft and curious as you gaze up at Delmon, eager to learn. It grates on Enjin more than he’d admit, knowing he’s never once gotten that look, despite monopolizing most of your time.

“Ya know—unless, your skillset just ain’t up t’par?” Enjin finishes with a shrug.

Wholly unconvinced, you see this for the bait it is from a mile away. Nevertheless, you can’t deny that you are eager to get even the tiniest bit of normalcy back in your life from your old hobbies. Planting something, anything, would be nice—even if it ends up being contraband for Enjin. Although you still aren’t quite sure why you can’t consult Delmon. 

“Ugh! Fine!”

You fall back onto the sofa and Enjin follows, his arm settling behind you, practically draped around your shoulders. You don’t even flinch. He takes another slow hit, smoke curling toward the ceiling, but this time there’s a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you. Deciding he’s babysat the joint long enough, he leans in with a lazy smirk and holds it out to you.

“Enjin—your eyes!” You blurt out, disregarding his invitation. “Is that just from smoking!? I can’t go to happy hour looking like some kinda zombie!”

Enjin sputters mid-laugh, coughing as wisps of smoke leak from the corners of his smart ass grin.

“Eh, well duh. Why else would they get so red when I smoke?”

Enjin coughs out a few more chuckles. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Trashy Poppins…I didn't make the connection since the air quality down here is 80% pollution! You could have anything.”

While Enjin is amused by your sass, the joint continues to burn down. Each second unsmoked is wasting precious bud. Leaning in, his voice drops to a low purr—the kind that makes your stomach flip.

Heh, time to pull out the big guns.

“Aht-aht-aht, c’mon now, Princess, you know the golden rule…”

You sigh, thinking you need that happy hour drink more than ever right now.

“You’re not serious.”

But you know he is, and of course you remember the silly motto Enjin makes an unspoken rule for his team. Although he mostly just uses it to get you to do something you’ll usually regret later.  You sigh, knowing you’ll never make it to happy hour until you appease the big man-child in front of you.

Enjin’s golden eyes shine with even more mischief than before and together like some damn mantra, you both repeat:

“...it’s not peer pressure—it’s just your turn.”

Resigned, you click your tongue, swiping at the joint in his hands. But Enjin is much faster as he pulls back with infuriating speed. You glower at him, snark locked and loaded.

“Nah, actually I’ll help you out since it’s your first time, Princess.”

Innuendo coils around his words, heat radiating off him as you tense under his gaze. You don’t want to argue with him though, the sooner you smoked, the sooner you both could be at happy hour.

“Open.” 

Enjin’s fingers graze the corner of your mouth as he holds the joint to your peach-glossed lips, eyes darkening when you part them obediently for him.

“Now breathe it in, nice and slow…deeper. Yeah, that’s it—hold it. Don’t let go until I say—good girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but you can’t—not with tears stinging your eyes and smoke burning its way down your lungs. By the time Enjin gives you the nod to exhale, you’re already choking, coughing it all back up in ragged plumes.

Yeah, this was nowhere in hell as easy as Enjin made it look.

The buzz rises in your head almost instantly, an airy haze creeping into your consciousness.

“See? Not a terrible cherry pop, eh?”

The glare you throw at Enjin is more of a squint. Still recovering from the fire tearing down your throat, your coughs earn you a few heavy-handed smacks on the back from Enjin. If it’s out of comfort or mockery, you can't tell. 

Everything in the room is spinning and becoming more distant, like a daydream.

“Easy there, breathe—it’ll hit easier when ya figure out how to grow it right, Princess. The dank shit won’t burn this hard.”

You want to bite back that even if you do figure out how to grow the damn ‘weed’ plant, you’d never touch it again. But the sudden heaviness seeping into your limbs drags you down, tilting your head on the axis of equilibrium.

“I think, no—I know, I need to lay down.”

Not waiting for permission, you flop down onto the worn cushions beneath you, curling up awkwardly with your head leaning against the armrest and your legs dangling off the seat at an angle. 

Enjin doesn’t miss a beat though—he scoops your legs into his lap, tugging off your boots so you can be comfortable.

Leaning back, perfectly at ease, Enjin holds the joint in one hand while the other rests on your stocking-covered shin, giving it a casual, reassuring pat. The way your arm drapes over your face tells him everything—yeah, you’ve got the spins.

“Keh, you’ll make it, Princess. Just let it all ride out.”

You’d make it alright, but not to happy hour anytime soon. Enjin supposes he might’ve let you take a bigger hit than you were ready for. 

Whoops.

Silence stretches in the aftermath but it’s not uncomfortable. Enjin takes a few more lazy tokes, one golden eye cracked open just enough to watch you, taking stock of your state. 

It’s in moments like this—rare ones, when you’re quiet—that he remembers just how fucking smoking hot you are.

Especially in that Cleaner uniform. Man, God bless August.

The eccentric tailor took special care in designing it thanks to a sudden burst of inspiration—August even convinced Enjin to allow him to keep some of the trim from your Spherite clothes that he repurposes. The outcome of your uniform is shinier, more fitted and much sluttier than standard issue. 

You took to it immediately, without much fuss and actually complimenting August. That was August’s gift though—whipping up pieces to suit even the finickiest of tastes—and Enjin had to admit, the man did his big one. 

But the real surprise wasn’t the craftsmanship. It was you—his oh-so-prim little Trash Princess—strutting around in something so damn naughty. Dressed up like a treat that Enjin can’t help but eat up with his eyes.

And whaddya know? Enjin has the munchies bad right now.

Left to his own devices, Enjin takes his time devouring the sight in front of him. His gaze lingers down the length of your legs sprawled across his lap, to the soft, exposed flesh of your thighs—spilling over the edge of your stockings just enough to make his jaw clench.

Fuck, they look so soft. He can't help but wonder how they'd feel locked around his head as his eyes climb to the next indulgence—your crop top. Rucked up to your ribs, the thin white cotton hugs just beneath your tits. Shit, the way your cute little nips poke through the fabric makes his mouth twitch with the urge to say ‘hi’ right back—with his tongue.

Is it hotter in here, or—?

Leering at you for too long is a surefire way for Enjin to pop a boner. Enjin knows he’s not alone in that either. That uniform of yours turns heads in every city you pass through. Consequently, Enjin has split more skulls because of idiots trying to hit on you or cop a feel than he ever has for anyone trying to snatch a Spherite.

Not that he’s jealous or nothing.

Nah. Just doing his job. Watching out for you. Plenty of unscrupulous assholes out there willing to pounce on a clueless little thing like you.

However, right now, Enjin’s just as unscrupulous—‘watching out’ only for a flash of your panties as each restless wiggle sinks you deeper into the lumpy cushions, bunching your skirt higher and teasing him with a glimpse of skimpy lace.

Man, just a little more and he’d know exactly which pair you picked today.

Sobering up a bit more, you sigh at your inability to get comfortable when you could feel the very springs in the sofa. Stretching, you straighten your leg suddenly and—

“Yo! Watch the feets, girl!”  

Though there’s amusement in his voice as he jolts upright, tatted hands grabbing your ankle before you’re able to land another blow.

“Ah, sorry—” You mutter sheepishly, reeling back your foot. “I didn’t mean to kick Umbreaker.”

For what it’s worth, the apology comes quickly—you’ve learned better than to mess with a man’s jinki, especially Enjin’s. You've nearly tripped more times than you can count over that bulky extension of himself that he always keeps within reach.

You know it’s serious too when he doesn’t even bother with the stupid nicknames he usually calls you. Nevertheless, you’re left puzzled when Enjin’s laughter comes out loud and sharp. 

“...that wasn’t Umbreaker, Princess.”

Huh? What does he mean that isn’t— 

You freeze. 

Carefully peeking out from under your arm, your reddened eyes squint down the length of your body and onto his. When the realization does set in of what exactly you kicked, it smacks you harder than any hit of ganja ever could.

“O…oh…—OH MY GAWD!”

Immediately springing upright, your vertigo swirls with how fast you’re scrambling to your knees as you gawk.

Time passes for what seems like a solid minute or two and neither of you speak. 

You’re staring at the crotch of Enjin’s baggy pants and Enjin is staring at you.

“Heh.”

The devious look on Enjin’s face right now could shame the devil himself. Yet you’re still in utter disbelief.

There’s no way that’s his dick!

Still, your brain won’t stop running the numbers—high girl math with clumsy calculations drawn from the fleeting brush of your toes against the long, thick mass hidden beneath the fabric of his baggy pants. Enjin’s words ring in your mind like a gong—‘that wasn’t Umbreaker…’

“You’re burnin’ a hole through my dick, Princess—”

Enjin’s voice unfurls seductively, like the smoke curling from his lips.

“—keep starin’ like that and I’m gonna think you wanna see it.”

Your eyes meet his dead-on. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure yo—wait, come again?!”

Enjin’s grip goes slack, the joint slipping from his fingers. He was halfway to some sassy quip, ready to taunt your denial—but your delivery is so honest, with no teasing or angle to play off, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

The embers hiss against his thigh before he even registers he dropped it.

“Tch.” Cursing under his breath, he flicks it aside—it’s all roach anyway—and tries to pull himself back together.

You’re fucking with him. Yeah. That’s it. 

Smug again, Enjin leans into the bit you started.

“Ha ha…right. I know my stuck up lil’ Trash Princess isn’t asking to give me a dick inspection…”

Enjin adjusts his pants in a casual sweep that doesn’t fool either of you. He’s not brushing off the remaining flakes of ash—he’s palming his restless cock that jumped at the idea of you actually wanting to see it.

But both you and Enjin would quickly discover, despite your snobby Spherite upbringing, you lose any type of filter and sense of couth while high—blurting out your thoughts unabashedly. 

“I said I wanted to see it, Trashy Poppins. Or m’not gonna believe you’re actually that big.”

You fold your arms, huffing stubbornly.

There was no way an unbearably annoying man like Enjin was slanging actual horse cock! 

He had to be the one fucking with you here.

Well, wait, no—a cocky, stupidly sexy man having a big dick actually tracks, now that you think about it.

But still—you need to verify. For science, if nothing else. 

Yeah. Science.

Enjin blinks, taking stock of you—kneeling close, your tits straining like they’re about to burst free, and your skirt rides so high on your thighs this time, he swears one more millimeter and he’d see your panties for real. 

“C’mon now…”

Your sickly sweet coos needle at Enjin’s spine.

“...as if you aren’t always upskirting me just to see my panties.”

Shit. You knew it was intentional?

“At least you can show me your undies for a change. If you’re really that big, then I’ll be able to tell.”

The spark alight in your eyes is a challenge to Enjin, who loves pushing your limits. Now he needs to know how far you’ll go. Even if he’s completely unprepared for this turn of events, he’s sure as fuck not gonna be the one backing down first.

“S’that right, Princess? Well, I haven’t even seen yours today so—”

Enjin doesn’t even get the chance to finish before you’re lifting your skirt and spreading your knees wider. You stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn squares suddenly appearing super interesting to you. Enjin’s eyes however immediately zero-in on the pink lace stretched tight across your pussy.

Christ.

With a much closer view, Enjin picks up all the little details he usually misses—like how the hem digs into your soft curves or how the material is thin enough to see the split of your chubby lil pussy lips pressed underneath. 

Goddamn, are you intentionally buying them a size too small? 

Or is your pussy print just that fat?

Enjin gulps, mouth dry. 

His attention caught like a hook to your cunt, everything else is unimportant—including the irony of how he was just teasing you for the very same thing—it’s all utterly lost on him. His priorities shifting rapidly the longer he ogles you.

After a minute, giving him quite frankly more of his fill than he deserves, you let your skirt drop back into place. The alluring spell of your fatma breaks when your  knees snap shut and Enjin is yanked back to a world that doesn’t exist between the apex of your doughy thighs. 

All of his lecherous starring is worth it though—if only to be able to throw his own saying back at him for once.

“Now, how’s it go again? It’s not peer pressu—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I got it, Princess—My turn.” 

Enjin relents, cutting you off with a twisted grin as he shakes his head.

“Ya don’t gotta break my arm to see my dick, babe. Just makin’ sure you’re sure. Don’t need you runnin’ off telling Semiu I flashed ya.”

Semiu is already on Enjin’s ass for teasing you as much as he does. Something about him being ‘too grown’ not to ‘nut up’ and ‘come to terms with his reality’, but Enjin was never listening for long, zoning out as soon as a new lecture was underway. 

However, if your prissy ass really wants to see his dick that bad, of course he’d oblige. Hell, Enjin would get another kick outta watching your horror when you realize for real just how much he’s packing. It had been a minute since he'd seen that look on a woman.

For being as hot and charming as he is, Enjin didn’t get nearly as much play as he should’ve. He isn’t a virgin by any means, but too many women take one glance at his size and back off expeditiously.  

Life on the ground meant hustling to survive for most. Nobody could afford to be laid up for days just because Enjin’s wrecking ball of a cock tore through their walls, rendering them unable to walk—let alone go to work.

Yet with a clink, that all changes as the leather strap of his belt and gear slides free. Enjin lifts his hips enough to shove his pants down past his thighs and there it is—short red boxer briefs with a black waistband, the fabric stretched thin over the obscenely long, thick outline of his dick resting along his thigh.

Simply put, your jaw drops. There’s a static-like silence buzzing in your mind as you process the monstrous mass of phallic muscle before you.

You’ve never seen a dick that huge in your entire life. 

Clocking your shock, Enjin’s chest puffs like he’s just been crowned a king in the room.

“Relax, Princess…” he drawls, smugness saturating every word.

“I ain’t even all the way hard yet.”

Bullshit! 

Your eyes pingpong between his face and his cock before landing on the obvious conclusion—no overthinking this time.

“What are you waiting for then? Get hard.”

Enjin actually chokes for real this time, still not used to how blunt his demure lil’ Trash Princess gets when she’s high. He manages to laugh regardless once he finds his breath as he sure as hell doesn’t hate this new side of you.

“Hah?! It doesn’t work like that ya know…”

Enjin lies right through his fucking teeth. 

Just hearing that vulgar command from your prissy lil’ lips has his blood surging south, his cock swelling at rapid speed. Already on go, his dickprint thickens, straining against the fabric until threads stretch thin to form almost obscenely over him like second skin.

Yet unlike his past hookups you don’t flinch at the sight of him getting even bigger. 

There’s more than enough incredulousness on your face for sure, but Enjin half expected you to backpedal for the sake of your pussy’s self-preservation and book it out the door. Instead, the look you’re giving his dick is more akin to awe than fear.

Truly, though—you are in awe.

Men weren’t like this on the Sphere. Well, your husband certainly wasn’t.

Older than you by over a decade, your husband’s stamina was so poor he never lasted long. His size, his endurance, and his dismissive comments about your sexual appetite being perversely unbecoming for a lady of your station had you wondering if something was wrong with you this entire time—if you expected too much from sex.

But when your eyes drift back to Enjin—catching the thick vein running along his length, visible even through the fabric—you know better now. 

It was never you.

The realization brings a surge of boldness. Your gaze trails the pulse of his cock down to the wet patch blooming at the tip—so much pre spilling it seeps through the fabric. 

Enjin inhales sharply through his nose. He knows he’s proven his size, but your silence and the way you’re eyeing his cock like some kind of museum exhibit is starting to get to him. 

Enjin doesn’t want to back down as he impatiently waits for your final verdict of approval. But if you keep staring at him like that, with those big pretty eyes of yours, he’s going to come in his pants, untouched, like some fucking cuck.

“Well, Princess? Big enough for ya?”

You don’t even hear Enjin, too lost in your own thoughts. Your body, buzzed and reckless, has a mind of its own though. Reaching out, your hand leaves your lap to trace the thick ridges of his cock, mapping its shape through his briefs. 

“Oh, shiiii—” Enjin hisses. 

His lip catches between his teeth as all thoughts vanish the moment your delicate little fingers start stroking him.

“Argh—fuck. Can’t jus’ go grabbing a man’s dick like that ya know.”

Yet Enjin does nothing to stop you as your touch grows bolder. Your palm flattens around his girth—too thick for even your whole hand to wrap around, even through his boxers.

How would someone even get something that monstrous inside them!?

Encircling his leaky cockhead, you giggle as your index finger slowly tap-tap-taps the mess he’s made there, amused at how many of the small, sticky suds you can gather on your finger through the material.

Enjin’s own laugh is strangled. This can’t be real.

“Heh… fuck… you really tryna kill me, huh, Princess? Fuckin’ tease…”

You’re unfazed by Enjin’s provocations – too mesmerized by the obscenely large cock in front of you that has you squirming uncomfortably as your own panties turn swampy with heat. 

“May I?”

Meeting Enjin’s gaze, your polite innocence is accented by a wide-eyed pout that’s far too sweet for the filthy implications of your request. Like you’re nicely asking permission to play with your favorite toy—except you don’t even wait for him to give it,fingers impatiently snapping the edges of his waistband like some cockhungry slut. 

“Uh…” Enjin blanks while his dick is practically screaming at him to respond—even a damned head nod would suffice. Yet his brain blue-screens as it registers that look—the normally innocent, curiosity filled look that he's been craving since he found you in No Man's Land—now twisted into something debased and filthy.  And best of all?

Meant just for him.

Enjin’s so fucking hard right now it’s painful—and hell, if you’re planning to do something about that, he’s not about to stop you.

“Keh. Do you, boo.”

Enjin manspreads, giving you full access. You eagerly pull down his shorts just enough to release his cock, and it springs free, thick and heavy. 

Good God, he’s a big boy! 

Although you knew that, seeing the monster in all of its unleashed glory was an entirely different experience. Enjin’s dick bobs back to curve towards his abs, a shiny pubic piercing shining at his base under its shadow.

Panting, your previously dormant inner size queen activates. You have to swallow down the bucket of saliva collecting on your tongue before you choke—you can’t help but salivate at the thought of what a huge cock like this tastes like… what it feels like. 

You’re pretty sure it could break you in two, and surprisingly, the thought excites you.

Lowering yourself on all fours, the first tentative lick you give Enjin’s length has his toes curling as he grips the sofa, ripping a chunk clean off the decaying material. 

You moan out a depraved 'ahhh' once you reach the top, a little smile playing on your lips as you tongue down the hole at his tip.  Greedily, you lap up all the little dribbles of pre beading at the tip and flowing out.

“W-Woaaah—ugh. FUCK!”

Enjin’s hand flies into your hair as he clears his throat. Sure, your mouthwatering stares made a blowie likely, but diving in this shamelessly? It’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his damn mind.

You grip his base—an insurance policy to keep him from cumming—while your other hand cups his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thigh jolts beneath you and you simper at how sensitive he is despite his massive size.

“T-There’s no way in hell they taught your prissy ass how to be this much of a slut up there.”

Pouting, you release his balls to cradle his cockhead against your puffed up cheek, uncaring of the amount of pre seeping across your jaw. 

“D-Do…do you hate it? My hus—um, ex said it was a turn off. H-he'd say I have 'the depravity of a slums streetwalker.”

Staring up at Enjin, your eyes are clouded with lust, yet edged with worry—like he’d threatened to rip something precious away.  But it’s only his cock you’re coddling tighter against your cheek, your lips parting just enough to chase the beads of pre that drip close to your mouth.

If you weren’t gripping Enjin’s base so hard he definitely would have blown a load all over your face. Fuck, if the thought isn’t tempting to him though – he doesn’t think you’d even mind in this state.  

Goddamn, you’re so much sluttier than Enjin could have ever imagined. 

And he’d imagined it plenty. 

Especially on nights Enjin stumbled back to HQ drunk and alone, having closed down the bar with Corvus and Gris. Left to sate his own booze-fueled boner, he’d shamelessly rut into his pillow. Yet, no matter where his perversions strayed, every faceless fantasy in the dark insisted on transmuting into you. 

You seriously think he couldn’t match your freak? 

Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.

“Hate it?” 

Enjin holds back the growl building at the back of his throat. There’s a torrent of thoughts swirling with his high all at once—all coming to settle right back into his dick. 

“Never. Show me who you really are, Princess—n’ I’ll give it right back to ya tenfold—that’s a promise.”

If you weren’t already trembling with arousal—finally free to let your freak flag fly—you might’ve shied away. Enjin’s easy acceptance of you stirs something deeper, something messy that you usually ignore before it can settle. Now, with his scent thick on your face and tongue, you’re not thinking at all—aching with the urge to all but inhale his cock.

You merely nod, flashing Enjin a coy smile before stretching your plush lips to wrap around him. Slowly, you swallow down his girth, mouth hot with suction so deliciously moist Enjin’s hips jerk up. You gag, but his firm grip on your roots keeps your head in place, forcing his length to breach your throat.

“That’s it, baby…open up f-f’er me—g-good fucking girl, Princess…”

Tears prick at your eyes as his cock pounds back of your throat. The stretch is brutal—but some desperate part of you craves more of his filthy praise. What you can’t take with your mouth, your hands make up for—stroking every thick inch your lips can’t swallow.

“Shiiiit, girl! You’re a pro at this.”

If you ask Enjin later, he’d probably call you a throat goat, however most of your “experience” came from the smutty paperbacks high-society wives hid in corsets and swapped under tea tables—not actual practice. You don’t really know what you are doing. You’re just following the book's explicit instructions. 

Still, Enjin doesn’t seem to mind being your test dummy. 

On the contrary, Enjin is more than happy to let you do your thing and he does just that. Although, the longer your head bobs along his cock, the more your skirt rides up—until it finally flips over your hips, giving him a perfect view of the cheeky lace framing your ass.

Enjin groans, gripping your ass with bruising force before sliding his fingers down to palm your pussy over your panties—fuck, you’re already dripping for him.

“Hah—uppity cunt gets this sloppy just from a lil’ dick sucking, eh?”

Enjin laughs, yet the gravel rattling in his voice betrays him. No one has ever fearlessly tried to deepthroat him and actually fucking enjoyed it. 

Unable to respond with your mouth, too busy still trying to do the impossible and fit more inside your throat, your hips respond instead—wiggling desperately against his fingers, begging for more of his touch. 

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. Slipping a tatted finger into your panties, he drags it through your folds, marveling at how wet and scorching you are. Pushing into your core, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his digit.

Oh fuck, even his fingers are big! 

A second ringed finger follows – the rough, callous fingers of a man who's seen too many fights scrape so good against all your gooey spots. Lewd squelches echo from your pussy as your throat tightens around him in tandem. The sounds, the squeeze, the heat—all of it is driving him crazy.

Shit he’s gonna cum for real this time. 

To his credit, Enjin tries to warn you—tries to pull you off before it’s too late. 

He doesn’t wanna risk pissing you off and having you refuse to ever do this again. Enjin still wants to fool around more;, he wants to fuck you. It’s that thought—your pretty pussy lips splitting open to swallow him instead—that has him busting his hot seed down your throat in thick, hot pulses.

“HAHH—FUHH!”

Releasing your hair, Enjin half expects you to pull away, furious he hadn’t warned you.  Instead, your nails dig into his thigh, steadying yourself. You moan around him, the vibrations rippling through his sensitive cock while you work him for every last drop, his hips jerking beneath you.

Only when you’re certain you’ve drained him do you pull back, swollen lips coming off his cock with a wet pop. 

“Allll go-neee S-Sheee? HAhhhhh~♡”

Tits jiggling as you heave for air, you present your tongue to Enjin as proof you’ve swallowed all of him. Every. Filthy. Drop.

“Oh fuck me… you’re a nasty lil’ Trash Princess, aren’t you?”

You can’t help but agree—your throat’s wrecked and your pussy’s aching to be used just as thoroughly. Enjin’s fingers aren’t inside you any more, although they are still on your pussy, running through your folds absentmindedly.  

“Ngh—n-eed m-more,” you slur.

All your decorum was lost to the wind the moment you asked to see his dick—you don’t even care that it’s Enjin of all people that you just gave head to. Suddenly, the obnoxious pain in your ass seems like your only deliverance. Right now, you're more frustrated that you've spent so much time bickering with him when you could have been fucking him.

You much prefer his moans to anything else coming out of his mouth.

You need him to get hard again—immediately!

Enjin, mind mushy with release, takes another joint out to light. As much as he wants to return the favor after that kind of sloppy top, the man needs a minute.  His high has his whole body tingling from the post release sensitivity.

But you can’t wait any longer. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve had a proper orgasm and those were only from your own small, fumbling fingers. Throat achy and raw, you quiver at the masochistic thought of how his cock is going to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

You slide your panties down before flinging off your jacket and top.  Taking a seat on Enjin's lap, you're now clad in just your bra, your skirt that's bunched up at your hips, and thigh highs. Grabbing his cock, you give his soggy, half-hard girth a few encouraging pumps.

Your pussy is already slobbering, a viscous string of syrupy slick drips down from your slit to land on his cockhead, connecting you to him as you line him up. 

Feeling your fingers around his length, Enjin's eyes fly open, balancing the joint between his lips as he quickly shrugs off his own jacket, checking the pockets.

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll there sweetheart—you’re skipping a few steps.”

You aren’t listening though, not giving a fuck what Enjin is talking about as you cry out, grinding your clit against his fat tip, before running it back through your folds.

Enjin grits his teeth, coughing out smoke as he holds the joint in one hand and your hips in the other. You’re being a brat again, not listening to a single word he’s saying. 

“Gotta find my rubbers…also gotta stretch you out better, Princess—you’re gonna split in two if I don’t.”

You whimper, petulant and needy. You press his cockhead against your entrance, swiveling your hips like you’re going to recklessly sink down on him at any second.

“Huh? Rubbers?” You shake your head in confusion, pouting. “m’Ennnnjiiiiin…I can’t wait that long—puh-leaseee don’t make me wait s’long, Enjiiiiin. I can take it, promiseee!”

The way you sweetly coo his name is shattering any sense of self-control Enjin has left. The urge to submit you to the ultimate corruption surges hot through his veins, but Enjin knows how big he is and while he did want to break you, he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. You are absolutely nuts to want to ride him with so little prep—now, on top of everything else, you apparently wanted him to fuck you raw.

Wait—did you just ask what rubbers were? Did you not have condoms on the Sphere?

But any lingering concerns dissipate the second you start fighting to get his tip inside you.

“Too s-slow!” You groan.

Fear is the last thing on your mind—evident in the way you impale yourself on him, defiant even against the impossible stretch. Your pussy is tight around the swollen head of his cock, strangling it as your nails dig into his shoulders. You grind in slow, desperate circles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you bite them to keep from crying out, your body fighting against every inch.

Enjin watches with a dark glint in his eyes – you trying so hard for him makes him want to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions. But he’d let you have it at your own pace…for now. 

Releasing your hip, Enjin spits into his palm, rubbing his slick fingers over your clit in slow steady circles. 

“Such a hard-headed girl—c’mere…”

Enjin takes a long drag from the joint, balancing it between his fingers as he grabs the back of your neck. His lips crash into yours before you can think.

You gasp and Enjin takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke deep into your lungs, taking the harshest of the hit himself. You're left with only the smooth, earthy flavor warming your chest before it melts through your limbs.

But it’s the way he kisses you after that really knocks the ground out from under you. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with yours—hungry, messy, like he wants to steal the little air you have left until you’re only breathing him in.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hands buried in his soft buzzed undercut, anchoring yourself. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, teeth nipping your lower lip before diving right back in. All the while, his thumb keeps grinding into your clit, faster now, like he’s keeping rhythm with the pulse that’s beating under your skin.

Why does it feel this good? How is he doing this to your body? S’not fair! 

Not realizing you could feel this good from a kiss, you're unraveling in real time. Your mind goes blank with every pulse, every word, every inch. You’re not even fully seated yet, but you can already feel the blunt head of his cock grinding against your cervix, the pressure building with each centimeter you drop. You never imagined you could feel this full—like he might actually breach your womb.

The thought alone has you trembling, unstable, your aching thighs giving out, causing you to slide down a bit too fast. The thick veins along his length rake across your g-spot and your body snaps. A sharp, helpless spasm rocks you as your breath catches and a small, unexpected orgasm rolls through you.

Enjin pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though your body doesn’t stop shivering, lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

“Eh... did you just cum, Princess?”

The question is rhetorical, full of smug amusement, as he can feel the increasing wetness leaking down his cock, making it all the easier for you to slide down.    

Teasing your earlobe, Enjin’s tongue dips in to flick at the shell of it, making you clench.

“HA! Good fucking girl! A lil’ more and I bet she’ll be a real squirter f’er me.”

Enjin beams, proud of his Trash Princess. No woman had ever taken him this deep—not even close. Enjin hadn’t expected you to be any different. And yet…when Enjin looks down, he releases a groan deep from his gut.

The sight alone almost has Enjin nutting in you -- your drooling cunt spread so wide around his girth, sitting almost at his base. A thought flashes briefly – it's kinda like he’s a virgin again. Parts of his dick had never experienced this kind of molten heat so maybe, in a sense, he is? Enjin didn’t fucking care if he was though, as he ain’t about to be with the way your pretty pussy is giving way like it’s made for him. 

“Run that back.”

Enjin takes the final drag, pinching the smoldering end of the joint between his fingers before flicking it aside. He leans in again, slower this time. There’s no rush in how his mouth seals over yours. The second shotgun is less about the smoke and more about the feel of you—your lips parting for him, your breath syncing to his, and the small whimper you make as he sucks slowly on your tongue.

The haze spreads between you both, thick and warm. Simultaneously, his knuckles tease your clit, a soft schlick sound filling the space between you from you getting wetter by the second. By the strength of some unknown force, you finally bottom out, immediately collapsing into his neck. 

You both moan. Enjin feels you quivering from the inside out and you feel him everywhere—shifting your guts into your ribs. 

“I…I did it.”

Your smile blooms soft against his inked skin, lips grazing the spot where you can feel his own pulse hammering wildly.

Enjin’s in no state to congratulate you on your impressive feat. Completely sheathed in you raw, coring out your gummy walls into the shape of his dick—something in his brain chemistry fizzles. Like a bit of pussy juice, acting as a catalyst, slipped into his dick and traveled straight to his prefrontal cortex to corrode all of his previous thoughts about you. The result is clear.

Enjin doesn’t give a fuck if you are a snobby, annoying, needy lil’ brat who never let him get away with shit and bitches at him constantly—the furtherest thing from his type.

Because honestly?

Motherfuck a bullshit-ass type. Your slutty ass pussy is fuckin’ perfect. 

For the first time, Enjin realizes he might be in love with you. 

How could he even look at another woman after this?

One thing if for certain—Enjin is going to make damn sure you never have the desire to even look at another man.

Both his hands trail up your hips, groping and squeezing the plump curves of your ass before settling at your waist. His blunt black nails dig into your skin to pull you back from his neck.

Enjin whistles, admiring the stagnant stream of spittle lingering on your chin. Look at you—cockdrunk just from sitting on him. 

Enjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.

“Enjiiiiiin,” you whimper, not being able to hold yourself up. 

But your cries for him only inflame the predatory smirk on his lips, your honeyed cunt hugging his cock so beautifully. 

“Makes sense you fell from heaven, huh Princess?” 

Whether you're ready or not, Enjin forcibly winds you on his cock in slow circles. Your clit brushes up against the well placed pubic ring like a reward for being the first to experience it.

“—cause this pussy’s a fuckin’ angel.”

Your eyes are already lodged in your skull so you can’t even roll them at his cheesy line. But if your pussy is an angel, then Enjin's dick is most definitely a demon—his sinful cock tearing through your insides and condemning you straight to hell.

Moaning loudly, your body moves on autopilot—chasing more friction from the rhythm Enjin set. Good thing everyone was at happy hour or you would for sure be attracting some major attention now.

Although, to be honest you probably wouldn’t notice anyway. You don’t even notice when your bra falls away, your tits spilling out just so Enjin could watch them jiggle in his face. You only register its disappearance once his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue finally saying it’s ‘hello’.

“Shiiiiit!”

Your hips stutter, then stall when Enjin tugs at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

“Hey…I know my Trash Princess ain’t tappin’ out just yet.” 

SMACK!

Enjin brings a heavy palm down on your ass and your pussy clenches tighter around him. Enjin relishes the way your plush curves mold to his hands, each smack adding to the wet, messy sounds between you. You’ve already leaked enough on his lap to stain the sofa beneath you.

“Nah, ya just got on the ride, baby. Giddy-up.”

SMACK!

“NNNGH!” You weakly glare daggers at him. 

Any softness on Enjin’s face has since been replaced by something far more mischievous. If you thought he was obnoxious before—you’re about to learn he’s a full-blown menace inside of pussy.

Wobbling, you gather together what little resolve you have left to roll your hips forward. 

“HAAH! S’too biiiiiig,” you whine but your body can’t stop.

The juices saturated between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth bounce going.

“Fuck—that’s it, ride it like it’s yours, baby.” Enjin encourages you.

The way you cream harder every time he calls you 'baby' doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? You like me talking sweet to the pussy, baby girl?—Or do you just like being my filthy lil’ trash slut, hm Princess?”

Gritting your teeth, you grab on to Enjin’s shirt like reins, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y-You’re…gonna—ahshiiiit—hafta f-fuck m’better than thisss…if you want m-me to be your ‘baby girl’—Trash Daddy.”

Unfortunately, your sass falls flat—you can barely keep your head from lulling to the side. But Enjin’s thoroughly entertained nonetheless—he’ll take ‘Trash Daddy’ over ‘Trashy Poppins’ any day.

“Bet.”

Electricity runs through Enjin. He’s all charged up—now it’s his turn to unleash.

Your brow furrows from the noise Enjin makes—you’re not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get. 

Sliding down the sofa a bit, adjusting himself for stability, Enjin spreads his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor as he bullies his cock up into you like he's breaking in his own personal fleshlight.

All you can do is go slack, falling forward on his chest. His grip bruising your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram. 

The couch beneath you groans, its frame creaking under the strain. The wood and leather protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.

“Enjinnnnn, m’slowwww dowwwnnn!” 

Your cries only fuel his frenzy and Enjin knows from the way you’re gushing on him you can take it.

Fuck—this sweet lil’ pussy is just so good for him. Imagine if he never met you. 

If you never—

Enjin cuts the thought off cold. 

Moving before you can blink—your world flips. One second he’s pummeling up into you, the next you’re on your back. 

Enjin peels away his shirt, muscles flexing as he looms over you. His hands curl around your ankles to keep them pinned overhead. A single bead of sweat catches your bleary eyes as it slides down his bare chest, gliding over firm muscle. The bold ink patterns seem to come alive on his skin. He looks so fucking sexy right now and you can’t help but to shamelessly ogle him.

Yet, there’s something much too serious and somber about Enjin’s current demeanor. You’ve been staring at him far too long to go unnoticed. The highly expressive, sassy powerhouse is rarely this silent. He should be teasing you right now, asking some smartass shit like if you’re ‘enjoying the view’. 

“Enjin?”

Your sweet voice hits his ears and instantly you have his attention again. Enjin flashes you a pearly white smile.

“Heh, enjoy the break, Princess? You wont get another.”

Ignoring the question in your eyes, Enjin folds you into a mating press, thrusting to the hilt all in one motion. The sound of flesh lewdly slapping against flesh fills the room, as do your cries.

But there’s still something else burning in his eyes. Enjin knows it’s unfair not to be honest with you, but taking out his unspoken feelings on your pretty pussy is the only way he can express himself at the moment. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud creak followed by a decisive snap and two of the sofa’s legs give out. If your sweat and cum weren't like glue on the old leather you’d surely slide off head first. You yell out in alarm, but Enjin doesn’t give a fuck about the damn sofa.

His mood is still soured by the thought that wouldn’t be shaken away until he confronted it—

If you never fell.

But you did. He found you—and now that Enjin has you under him like this, he needs to fuck the point he’s concluded into you:

If Rudo ever finds a way to the Sphere, Enjin will personally travel there and see to your ex-husband himself. 

Hell, he might even rail you in front of him a few times—show him what a real man could do. Maybe even a real…husband?

If the sounds of sloshing fluids and skin slapping skin weren't ringing so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else, you would have thought Enjin had lost his mind with the way he was cackling above you.  He sounds completely deranged, laughing at the idea of him finally wanting to settle down all while continuing to pound you deeper into the broken sofa.

But despite being high off weed and your pussy, Enjin’s mind has never been more clear—he wants to lock you down.

“Hah… P-Princess, can ya feel me in your tummy? Right…” Enjin’s golden eyes lock on the ever-so-slightly distended bulge from the monstrous intrusion in your guts.

“....right, here.” 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, his large hands splay across your sweat sheened belly. You’re squirming under the heat of Enjin sandwiching your guts between his palm and his cock. Its all far too much—you’re too full, unable to really focus on what Enjin’s saying.

“Ahh, E-Enj—m’ c-cum, g-gonna mmm…” you hiccup, swallowing your tears.

Your nails rake down his arm to ground yourself but your body is thrumming too hard, adrift in the rush rolling through every one of your wired nerves. Your tits bounce obscenely every time your velvety walls devour his cock back down to the base. Enjin’s pubic piercing bucking against your clit has you clutching onto his dick like you were about to break it off.

You feel so fucking good. Enjin desperately needs to feel you creaming on his cock, and you would be soon if your kitten nails raking down his arms– adding more red to his already inked skin– were any indication. 

“That’s it, Princess, hah—fuck, baby, I got you. Squirt for your Trash Daddy.”

As if on command, the knot inside you coils to its breaking point, prickling every nerve, releasing a warm rush of fluids. Your body tingling in ecstasy, you quickly tumble over your peak, eyes blinded by speckles of brightness as you cum.

Yet Enjin hasn't slowed, his continuous pounding forcing more of your cum and squirt to gush out of you—the melody of his now drenched balls colliding with your wet ass only growing loude

“Fuck, that’s it. Pussy cryin’ like she wants my cum, Princess…” 

You’re barely conscious from all the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“She’s jealous that slutty throat of yours got all my cum, now it’s her turn to swallow, isn’t that right?”

It’s a rather roundabout way for Enjin to ask if he can nut inside you, but then again, he wasn’t really asking. The thought of breeding you makes him feral. 

“Ahh—f’nnghhhh!”

Non-verbal and fucked dumb, you’d probably agree to anything right now. You’re an utter mess–pussy stretched beyond anything you thought possible, face sticky with slobber rolling down to pool in the folds of your neck. 

“O’course it is…gonna dump all these trash babies into my princess’ sweet lil’ cunt.”

Although you are super turned on by the thought of Enjin breeding you, there's no way you have any idea how serious Enjin is about putting a baby in you. How could you? You don’t even realize the love confession his cock is professing to you.

“FUHHHH—take it!”

Enjin pumps thick ropes of his cum into your tummy as his body thrashes on top of yours. The primal intensity has you vibrating as another orgasm rips through your overstimulated and overworked pussy. Filled the brim, his spunk overflows, sploshing out of your pussy as he rocks his hips, urging his seed deeper to plant right in your womb.

In the afterglow, the two of you lie off-kilter in a tangled heap on the broken sofa. There’s blood rushing to your head— not the worst place for it, you think, all things considered. Enjin’s weight is heavy, his chest heaving into yours, warm and sticky as he wraps you in his arms. 

Just as you feel you both might drift off like this, Enjin stirs. Flinching, you whimper as Enjin wills himself up, his cock sliding out of your pussy with a squelchy suctioning noise. Your knees part for him with zero resistance as he inspects his handiwork, peeling apart your battered pussy lips to reveal your dug out slit. 

“Whewww,” Enjin whistles at the sight of the thick creampie glistening in your core. “All this cum your cute pussy pulled outta me—you’d think she was my jinki.”

Sober, you likely would have slapped him for referring to your pussy as his vital instrument. But ecstasy clouds your logic, so high off endorphins and other substances, you only giggle. It is kinda funny you suppose.

“Yeah—squirtin’ on command like that. Definitely an attack type.”

Spread open, the thick plug of spunk froths out of you. But Enjin simply tuts, pushing it right back in, not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Yeah, how about that, ’mma duel wielder! Yup, definitely gotta name ‘er now—what you thinkin’ I should call her, princess?”

Enjin sees the way your pretty cunny is twitching, and in his pussy drunk mind, it's an approval. The spasms that still quake through you are like tremors of Morse Code—your slutty pussy agreeing with him, begging for more. Flipping you over on your belly, Enjin is more than happy to fulfill any request of his new vital instrument.

“Got it! Cumbringer! The Umbreaker and The Cumbringer. Nice ring to ‘em, dont’cha think?”

Cumbringer!?

Later, you would definitely regret being so thoroughly fucked out of your mind you didn’t put a stop to this. Enjin is most definitely going to be insufferably proud of himself for the next 3-6 business weeks. He’d lord this over you and tease you with not-so-subtle hints around the rest of the cleaners. 

Yet, as Enjin is swabbing his huge cock through your folds, you feel the ache of loss in your core, wanting to be filled again and you can’t seem to find the fucks to care—you just needed more of his dick, like…now.

Pleased with your compliance, Enjin thumbs the dips at the small of your back, perching your ass up so your back arches real nice.

“Trash Daddy’s gonna take real good care of Cumbringer from now on, too. Make ‘er live up to the name.”

When Enjin pushes into you again, the new angle has him bullying against your g-spot with even more intensity than before. Seeing the way you jolt, he holds back from going as deep this time to directly abuse the spot. Slick runs down your legs and despite how slippery the ruined leather cushions are beneath you, Enjin still holds you firm as his cock sloshes through your ruined pussy.

“Say, how much anima you think is in my nut, Princess?”

You don’t respond but Enjin, proving to have the stamina of a beast, feels like he should give you at least two more doses just to be sure.

⛓

Fading in and out of a euphoric stupor, you’re unsure how much time passes. Absolutely cockdrunk, at some point, you’d simply just surrendered. Your pussy clearly has zero complaints about being a jinki for Enjin’s cock and you are too dumb once you get a lil dick to stop him.

Somehow, you’ve ended up folded over the wide coffee table. It’s unstable beneath you, but Enjin doesn’t seem to care what he breaks when he’s fucking you. He only moved from the sofa when the back of it finally broke.

Straining, you think you hear voices but everything feels so far away and fuzzy. The room gets darker and you realize Enjin’s thrown his coat over you. Still sheathed deep inside you, Enjin’s cock plants lazy kisses to your womb as he speaks rather casually to someone.

Hmm, did he get a call? Is that Semiu?

Semiu is likely calling, wondering why you both haven’t shown up to happy hour yet—shit. There’s no way you’re making it in this condition; your limbs are toast. You can’t even move the weight of Enjin's bulky jacket off of you, the heavy material trapping you in the humidity of your own breath and sweat. But in a way, the warmth is comforting. Your cheek resting against the wood, you allow the tent of muggy heat and his cock moving languidly inside you to lull you into complacency— in your delirium, everything feels like a nice dream.

Yet Enjin is fully alert, a shit eating grin on his face as he stares down Semiu and Gris who had just walked in on Enjin shamelessly beating your doonies down. Enjin only spared your modesty by covering you up, but he has no qualms with either Gris or Semiu seeing him in all his glory and doesn’t even bother pulling out of you.

A fact that is painfully clear as he pats the pockets of his jacket draped over you for his cigs—he might as well smoke if he’s giving you a break.

“I win,” Semiu turns to Gris, hand out expectantly.

Semiu’s cool expression never changes but there is amusement in her eyes as Gris fishes into his pockets and places a stack of bills into her hand.

“Tsk, damn…” Gris shakes his head, although he’s not shocked. 

The two of you are down so horrendously bad for each other that this should have happened long ago as far as everyone else was concerned. The tension has been at an unbearable level for those around you, the way the two of you picked at each other non-stop like a kid’s first crush.

Alas, you’re an airhead and Enjin is so stubborn he’s delusional. So the older Cleaner members couldn’t help, but place bets on when and where you and Enjin would finally slip between the sheets. Its a shame that you weren't in one of your beds right now--in between actual sheets--instead of the lounge becoming collateral damage.

“You know, after all the game you talked about winning your money back at poker tonight, Bro said you were a no-show because you knew you were gonna lose…” Gris eyes the boneless, quivering lump that is you under Enjin’s jacket. 

Enjin really did a number on you. Your nonsensical babbles pouting for Enjin to ‘make sure to tell Semiu to bring you back some fries from the bar’ obviously means you have no idea that they are actually in the room.

“But it looks like you have your ‘ace in the hole' for an entirely different game.”

Enjin chortles. His hips stutter forward a bit too hard and you squeak in protest, he just hushes you.

“Awe, so you came back all this way to check-up on us? How sweet,” Enjin says sarcastically, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hardly. Rudo accidentally chugged an entire beer he thought was soda—then proceeded to throw it all up over Zanka,” Semiu says flatly. 

Enjin attempts to hold back his laughter as Semiu continues with a sigh. She explains thatGris helped carry Rudo back, promptly putting his little blacked out ass to bed. Zanka locked himself in the bathroom immediately upon returning.

“Although they're sure to be occupied for the rest of the night, since the kids are back in the building you need to wrap this shit up Enjin—she looks like she could use the break anyway.”

Semiu casts a sympathetic look your way. She did warn you about Enjin though, so he was your mess to deal with now. 

“Sure thing,” Enjin says, patting your form underneath his coat, “I’ve trained my new jinki well enough for tonight.” 

Semiu takes one look at the absolutely diabolical grin on Enjin’s face and decides she's already had enough of his shit for the night.

She sighs again. “Just hurry it up, alright?”

Enjin gives Semiu a cheeky salute. Yet the second her back is turned, Enjin mimes a dramatic chef’s kiss to the air for Gris. Enjin’s eyes roll back like he’s just had the best meal of his life. 

Gris snorts, shooting him a wink and a thumbs-up for a ‘job well done’ like a proud teammate before heading out of the room as well.

“One more thing.”

Semiu pauses in the doorway, hands resting on the double doors, surveying the crime scene-like state of the lounge. The sofa is toast, the coffee table’s on life support, and there's a growing puddle under you, spilling over to slowly drip off its edge onto the floor.

“If you’re just going to recklessly rawdog her, at least get her on the pill. Alice can sort that out tomorrow—right after you replace every piece of furniture you’ve both annihilated.”

Enjin simply shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I suppose…we can stop by Alice’s too.” 

Semiu just rolls her eyes, only to wrinkle her nose as a wave of stale air wafts by.

“And for the love of god—crack a window. Smells like fresh ass in here.”

Once the doors finally click shut, Enjin rips his jacket off of you and smiles. You’re still blissed out in lalaland while your pussy, Cumbringer, is clenching around him like she has one more go left in her.

Grabbing your arm, he pulls you up. Still sheathed inside you, he sits back on his knees, bringing you with him, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mmmm—*yawns* Was that Semiu on the call, Enj?”

Call? Oh, heh.

“Ha, yeah baby girl, just Semiu on the line,” Enjin lies too easily. 

It’s for your own benefit though–no need to ruin your bliss with anything silly like embarrassment or shame from being walked-in on. Hell, unless Semiu says something, Enjin might be able to get away with not ever telling you.

“She said they ran outta fries though. I’ll get ya some later, yeah? Jus’ need Cumbringer to clock in one more time, Princess...”

Enjin rocks his hips with yours in a slow wave and your pout melts, no longer caring about the fries. Your head tips back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Ah, mmmm, b-but—ngnh!  She mentioned something about hotdogs and getting pills tomorrow? Is that a mission?”

Enjin hums to keep from laughing as he turns your face towards him. He smirks devilishly against your lips.

Distracting you with sweet chaste kisses, Enjin rubs gentle circles over your womb. You’re gonna be so fucking hot waddling around HQ in your slutty ass uniform, tits leaking and belly full with his brats. 

The only pill he’d get from Alice would be a fertility pill.

“Nothing my slutty baby girl or my Cumbringer gotta worry about, Princess. Leave everything t’me.”

𝐚𝐧: ahh tysm for reading, especially if you are new to my writing. enjin brain rot is lethal. i needed to get this outta my system! jjk girlies forgive me for straying from my wip list and kinktober lol. definitely down to write more of him. i have a p2 and another enjin story (an AU) idea. but i have to focus on my jjk kinktober now! ♡

also, in case anyone is wondering—yes, reader's jinki is a labubu and yes, enjin just guilt tripped reader into growing him his own personal stash djhscjhdfj. banner: mash up of official manga + rororogi mogera 'last mall' doujin panels.

[hells-lady]

SatoSugu x tutor!reader

Telling Suguru and Saturo that if they both pass all their midterms that they can fuck your pussy together.

They are practically vibrating as they stand and listen intently. Suddenly, they’re more collaborative than they’ve ever been, and they’ve eaten you out together, shoulder to shoulder.

Because you’re a bit of a sadist, when finals come up, you’re in a cafe with your mocha and cake paid for by Daddy Warbucks(Gojo), observing them as they "study". They’re still working hard for it, of course. Or at least, they had been for a good stretch. They were like kids on Christmas when you gave them their promised reward a month back. And they pretended to keep up the good work afterwards with their classes, but they were all at once too busy palming any part of your body they could get their hands on to think of something as mundane as statistics.

Saturo was awful at keeping his hands to himself in public and had spent the past half hour trying to convince you that sitting in his lap would help you annotate your notes better. Suguru wasn’t much better with how he encouraged him, but at least he had the decency to keep his hands below your upper thigh in public.

After a particularly unstudious session, they each held one of your hands as they walked you home, damn near skipping. Naive fools thought they would get a reward just because they put their books on the table at the cafe. They hadn’t opened them once. Suguru didn't even notice that the book he brought was from a course last fall semester.

So you make a decision that will sting for a couple of weeks, but the delayed gratification will be worth it.

“Sex ban.”

Saturo stumbles. Suguru freezes.

“What-"

“Sex ban until both of you pass another final.”

“No, wait- is this because of the edging yesterday?” Satoru grabs your shoulders. “'Cause if we went too far, you gotta tell us-"

“Nope,” you shake your head, “This is because I’ve not seen you finish a single assignment in three weeks between the two of you.”

“Well the professor is lax baby.” Suguru embraces you from behind. “We were gonna get it done before finals week.”

You pull away from both of them and stand with your arms crossed. The November air is already colder without their smothering. “I’ve made up my mind. And if you two don’t keep your hands to yourselves during our next study session you’ll find yourselves tutorless for this semester.”

Saturo actually drops to his knees in the courtyard. Surely no man has known such devastation, such deprivation, destitution even.

Suguru still thinks he can salvage the situation and gives what is supposed to be a relaxed smile, but somehow becomes a constipated grimace. “Baby, please. We can’t focus with blue balls-"

“Then keep gagging on each other's dicks. But you get no pussy for now. Especially not if you fail a class this semester.”

“We can fix this…” Saturo is already into bargaining. “I’ll set up a meeting with Dr. what’s her face right now.” He’s already pulling out his phone.

“And no bribing or sweet talking no the professors. It doesn’t count if you don’t put the work in.”

“Light of my life,” Saturo is ashen at this point.

You give it a second of their desperate silence and shock. Then you smile. You’ve created the perfect teaching moment.

“If you were paying attention in class last week, you would know that the most effective classical conditioning is positive reinforcement, not negative punishment. So, the person who gets the highest average of grades on finals this semester gets to be the first one to fuck me in the ass. Ever.”

The silence stretches. Then it erupts in a frenzy of your boyfriends fighting over the books they forgot they were carrying. They didn’t even know which ones they needed, you were pretty sure they pulled out a playboy at one point.

A little friendly competition never hurt anyone. At least, not those two. Your ass, on the other hand, would definitely need the next two weeks just to prep.

[wild-jackalope-deactivated20260]

finding out all of your friends would be with you given the chance is a little hard to process.

pairing :: Nobara x reader, Yuji x reader, Megumi x reader, Maki x reader, Toge x reader

warning :: y/n is y/n-ing

note :: average sleepover with the incest friend group.

“I got your favourite snacks, too.” Yuji grinned, pulling out a certain flavour of chocolate you particularly enjoyed and taking a seat on the cushion beside you.

“You’re so sweet, Itadori. You should be my boyfriend.” You grinned.

“You know I’d love to.” He continued.

“Get in line.” Nobara cut harshly, before you could let out a laugh. Yuji just rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly.

You looked between them, feeling a genuine aura of annoyance.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You asked, breathily laughing, hoping to save everyone from the sudden tension.

Nobara grinned at Yuji, then to you. “I mean there’s a big line.”

“What? Who?”

Everyone but her seemed to avert their eyes. You gaped, jaw slacking.

“All of you?” You exclaimed loudly. “Itadori?” You pointed an accusatory finger his way. Were his jokes of wanting to be your boyfriend serious all along?

He shrugged, then nodded with a flickering but shy smile. “Of course.”

Your finger twitched to the black haired boy sitting beside him. “Megumi?”

He shrugged. “I would.”

“Would?” You flushed, utterly whiplashed.

“Salmon.” Toge nodded.

“You too??” Your chest caved.

“You’re all so vulgar.” Maki groaned, resting her chin on her palm. You sighed in relief. Maki didn’t like you, no, of course not. “None of you deserve her.” She added. You felt winded once again.

“A-Are you all serious? Are you pulling a prank on me?”

The silence felt like a smack to the face.

“So then, who do you like the most?” Yuji asked, elbowing your side.

“W-Well… I uhh…”

[lokissweater]

pretty flower

{frat boy!yuta okkotsu x nerdy f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu is the most popular guy to ever exist on your college campus— president of his frat, throws the biggest parties nearly every week, and is absolutely obsessed and in love with you, his nerdy cutie girlfriend who knows so much about everything and funnily smartens up his dumb frat boy brain, the two of you having been together for a year now and absolutely smitten every moment you spend together. and while the both of you are happy, the rest of your college campus isn't— specifically yuta's crowd, as they can't seem to accept he's no longer the man whore sleaze they once knew, opting to creating non-stop gossip about the two of you and yuta's supposed infidelity, absolutely scaring the shit out of him as he tries to get rid of the rumor before it reaches you.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, pet names, angst w/ comfort, FLUFFFF yuta LAUUVS YOUU, mentions of alcohol and drinking, lovesick yuta, sexual themes, SMUUUUTTT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y'all), yuta talks you through it MEOOOWWW, missionary, riding, mentions of cheating, dirty talk, inexperienced shy cutie reader, praising, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 23.3k (TEEHEEE—)

authors note: ALLL HAAAILLL FRAT BOY!YUTA I LOOVEEE HIMMMM i need him like i need water i am OBSESSEEEDDD!! i hope you guys love the ficcc ahhh !!! <3333 she was such a TREAT to write and i hope y'all are equally obsessed with sir yu like i am !!! I LOVE YOUUUU ALL SO SO MUCH MWAHHHH !!! <333

if you would like to know the origin story of this au, you can read it here! but it can also be read without it :)

yuta okkotsu was a changed man because of you, and his life was entirely different now than it was almost a year ago.

“oh yu! look at this one!”

yuta looked up from the other side of the jellyfish tank, lifting his submerged hand from the lukewarm water and walking over to you, careful not to trickle any residual droplets from his fingertips onto the floor below.

“what flower?” he smiled, bending over a bit to see what you were excitedly pointing at.

“it’s a baby...” you spoke softly, your hand slowly delving deeper into the tank and inching closer to the specimen, your index finger out.

“oh that’s right…” he murmured, his tone matching the quiet serenity of the exhibit as a whole, inching closer to you and gently bending down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“what kind of jellies are these again?”

“moon jellyfish!” you turned your head and smiled at him, pecking the side of his forehead. “their sting isn’t strong enough to penetrate the skin… that’s why it’s safe to pet them.”

he hummed, eyes watching you caress the little baby jellyfish softly with your finger, the rest of them fluttering and pumping about around your wrist as you giggled, the sensation of their soft tentacles tickling you.

“they’re cute!” he smiled contently, lifting his head from your shoulder to then dive his nose into your neck, you laughing and squirming at the feeling.

“do you know any other facts about them baby?” he muffled against your skin.

you simmered down and thought for a moment, your hand moving from the baby jelly over to a bigger one and running your fingers over the top of its head— the smooth slimy texture fascinating to you as yuta picked his head up to stand upright.

“whenever they’re short on food, they can shrink down in size and save their energy that way.” you lifted your arm, little droplets of water sliding down your skin and tattering down quietly to the surface below, your hand drawing back to grip the edge of the tank and looking sweetly at yuta. “so it’s less demand for food and things.”

he stared at you warmly, a literal lovesick stupid smile on his face as he listened to you continue on with your little list of facts about the moon jellies, his ears basically perked up and alert as they drank in everything that you had to tell him— it being that way ever since your pretty timid self came to one of his frat parties two years ago.

and yuta loved to hear you talk about your interests and the smarty things you knew, that still unchanging and him in absolute wonder every moment he spent with you at how much information your little mind held, and he felt like his idiot num nut brain was funnily smarter now solely due to you.

because yuta before you was an absolute dick, and every time he thought about his former lifestyle he cringed at the stark difference— throwing rowdy parties each night as the president of his frat, playing beer pong for the hell of it, and getting shit faced with not an ounce of regret in his system, him sleeping with anyone he wanted and desired, and never even having to lift a finger in efforts at it either until he met you.

but yuta was ashamed.

so incredibly ashamed of his awful habits, and thanking his rotten luck that you gave him another fucking chance after blowing his first meeting with you, him working hard for an entire year straight just to get you to look at him the same way you looked at your friends, and to get you to trust him and win you over despite his awful reputation.

you changed him… wholeheartedly and for the better, his reputation no longer of a sleazy good for nothing piece of shit who whored around, but of just yuta okkotsu— president of his frat, still the most popular guy to ever fucking exist and throwing massive parties every week… but of also a guy who loved his girlfriend, a girl that took him off the market with just her presence alone, and a girl he was lucky enough to have by his side despite everything.

but though yuta’s new reputation was flourishing and grand, it didn’t mean his old one just— eradicated and didn’t follow him everywhere he went.

everywhere you went.

because it did, and he knew of the whisperings of his past every time he walked you to your lectures in the halls… how he had slept with so and so that one time, or how he did this that other time, and he was utterly remorseful over the fact that you had to hear those things too, knowing he wouldn’t like it in the slightest if it was the other way around no matter how many times you reassured him that it didn’t bother you.

and it’s precisely because of his old reputation that he was terrified of you thinking he was using you in anyway shape or form... that you were just another body count to him and that the minute he got you in bed with him he was going to leave— that particular gossip following him everywhere relentlessly and him feeling fucking sick over the thought of you hearing and believing it.

“can all jellyfish do that?” he asked, lifting a hand and mindlessly playing with a strand of your hair. “shrink in size?”

you shook your head. “not all! but a few others can too… moon jellies are just the best at it.”

he nodded, a content smile still on his face as he hiked up the straps of your purse over his shoulders, holding it for you and gladly doing so while you enjoyed yourself looking through the different informational panels of the exhibit— the aquarium being one of yours and yuta’s favorite places to go whenever you went out together on dates, the number of times you’d both been there literally irrelevant as it was deemed your designated special spot for the two of you, yuta often taking you there after classes, or randomly throughout the day to spend time with you and love on you-- doing it all amongst the fishies, jellyfish and penguins that you both had come to recognize and name.

“you having fun flower?” he asked, swinging an arm around your shoulders as you began walking out of the jellyfish exhibit. “you hungry at all? we could eat really fast before seeing buddy if you want.”

you smiled.

buddy was the penguin you and yuta decided to take ‘ownership’ of and was the sole reason why the two of you visited the aquarium so much to begin with— to see the chubby and puffy little penguin that was noticeably friendlier and more interactive than the rest of the flock, and you liked to think that buddy recognized you too every time you guys peered at him through the glass walls— your boyfriend always saying that the little furry thing was a part of his frat and second in command.

“oh let’s see buddy now!” you quickly interlaced your fingers with his hand that was around your shoulders, slightly nudging yuta in the direction of the penguin exhibit. “i don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

“heh, okay!” yuta’s cheerful breathtaking smile made the heat quickly rise to your cheeks. “and that’s very true… he’ll get grumpy like last time.”

you laughed. “i’m pretty sure that was because the staff was a little late on giving him food…”

“mmm— don’t think so!” you passed through the entrance of the exhibit and turned left, other families and kids staring intently at the different penguin habitats and nurseries as you walked by, majority of the enclosures housing from baby penguins to those who were just learning to grow and take independence. “it’s because he missed us flower.”

you both reached the primary habitat that contained a handful of adult penguins waddling about and jumping from big rock boulders, an ample sized body of ocean water in front that allowed them to go for a swim or splash their little wings if they wished, you and yuta approaching the front and eyes immediately scanning for buddy.

“do you see him..?” yuta spoke softly, his eyelids squinting over the rocks.

“nuh uh…” you shook your head, peering around and eyeing every penguin in attempts at spotting buddy in particular.

“oh! there! over there!” you speedily pointed to the far left, buddy on his chubby tummy on top of one of the highest boulders in the sanctuary, soaking in the cold icy temperatures of the habitat while taking a nap like a respectable little king, his body softly moving up and down in even breaths.

“really?! where?” yuta stepped closer to the glass wall, his gaze desperately scanning for buddy and shoulders slumping when he still couldn’t spot him. “oh no baby i think i need fucking glasses—”

you giggled, tilting his chin more to the left and pointing to the sleeping bird. “there silly… he’s taking a nap on his belly.”

“oh i see him!” his charming face broke out into a smile. “aw man we came at a bad time then flower… he might think we ditched him for the day and be mad at us next time we come back.”

you faltered and visibly frowned at the thought, yuta picking up on it and quickly fixing his demeanor.

“oh— but it’s okay! it’s fine!” he delicately patted the top of your head. “i’m sure he’ll forgive us… and maybe he’ll wake up before we leave?”

“hopefully…” you sighed softly through your nose, a little grin growing on your lips. “what if i just— start tapping on the glass to wake him up?”

yuta laughed and shook his head. “baby that’s something i would do don’t do that.” 

he brought you in by the arm around your shoulders and squeezed you lovingly into his chest.

“you’re hanging out with me too much…”

“well duh.” you giggled. “is this your way of saying you wanna cut back?—”

“oh what the!?—” his eyes whipped in your direction, frantically shaking his head side to side. “i’d actually rather give up my dumb frat position than do that flower.”

you gasped then, jaw running slack.

“yu it’s not dumb, and don’t gamble with things like that for me either… you work really hard for the status you have and i would hate to be the reason it goes away.”

that was the main concern you had when you first started dating yuta, and shamefully still a concern now actually… because throughout the year yuta spent trying to win you over and prove to you that he wasn’t a player, hot headed and awful anymore, something that you were so incredibly touched over and impressed about and so fucking happy that he did without you even having to ask— the worry of you being the cause of his depleting reputation because of your status never went away regardless, and it quickly bubbled up in your mind as soon as you saw the disgruntled reactions of his crowd.

and you normally wouldn’t care about things like that, the rumors and gossip that took no time at all to surface easily thrown to the back of your head because of yuta… for he was everything you’d ever wanted and more as he continued to shower you in that same amount of love, affection, and attention that he gave you when you first had met.

yuta's kind reassurance of the rumors and for you to pay them no mind wasn’t entirely necessary to you either, due to the fact that you adored his silly jokes and flamboyant frat boy behavior so much and loved him so much that you simply just didn’t need it.

at first.

until you started noticing that yuta never… initiated things with you past kissing or making out throughout your first year together.

but it’s not like you ever did either— your frustratingly timid and shy personality never allowed you to even utter a peep of suggestion about it no matter how much you wanted to take things further, though intimate things like that weren’t a deal breaker nor was it of great importance to you anyways, as just spending time with him was more than enough and all you wanted and needed… except—

you’d seen the way yuta was with girls before you.

so why was it so easy for him to be intimate with them and not with— you? 

and they never needed to ask either…

“flower?”

“huh?” you jumped slightly, your eyes shooting up and meeting a concerned faced yuta. 

“you okay?” he blinked. “did you… hear what i said?”

“oh! i’m sorry yu i didn’t…” you peered up at him shyly with pinky cheeks, your bashful look spurring his little heart on as he gave you a smile and quickly pecked your forehead.

“that’s okay! i just said you’d never be the reason for something like that baby…” he smoothed a hand down the back of your hair, mind a little preoccupied by how silky it felt. “and i don’t care if it goes away either. also buddy’s awake.”

you perked up, eyes immediately darting to his former sleeping place and seeing him now fluttering his furry wings, gradually stretching and moving his little limbs before hopping down from his rock and waddling, both you and yuta funnily gushing and waving your arms around to try and catch the birds attention, yet undoubtedly looking absolutely insane to the rest of the guests around you as you both hopped and flailed around.

“buddy!” yuta whisper-yelled. “hey! look look!”

you giggled as he jumped up and down then with floundering arms, his car keys that were hooked through his belt loop jingling with every hop along with the charms on your purse, your hand flying to your mouth then to stifle your laughter once you noticed the odd stares parents were shooting at him as they passed by, their gawking children clinging to their coats and sleeves.

“yu!” you spoke in between hiccups of laughter. “i think— you’re scaring the kids—”

“oh!—” he froze, hands still up in the air as he looked side to side over his shoulders, a sheepish smile creeping on his face once he realized that he was in fact eliciting bewildered glances and judgmental stares, his arms coming down immediately after as he peeked over at you with blushing cheeks.

“oh man...” he laughed, completely fucking embarrassed and scratching the back of his neck. “how much of a stupid idiot did i just look right now…”

you quickly shook your head and giggled some more, standing up on your tippy toes to plant a sweet kiss to his rosy cheek.

“i was doing the same thing yu it’s okay!” you cutely smiled, your eyes switching back to the habitat in front of you, pointing. “it got buddy’s attention though!”

the chubby bird excitedly flapped its wings before trodding over to where the both of you stood, you gushing and cooing as he hopped over pebbles and moved through other stubby penguins just to get where the two of you stood behind the barrier, the penguin tilting its little head to and fro in curiosity as he peered at you both.

“hey little man!” yuta grinned, bending down a bit and placing his palm flat on the glass, you doing the same as you leaned closer to get a better look at the bird. “you okay?”

you sent a tiny wave to the penguin, him flapping out his wings again in return and waddling even closer to the glass, you softly gasping and head snapping up to your boyfriend.

“i think—” your wide eyes shifted back to buddy. “i think he does recognize us…”

“that’s what i’ve been saying flower!” yuta laughed boyishly, swinging an arm over to place a hand on your waist, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “i know i’m a dummy dumb but never about buddy.”

you snorted and gently nudged his side with your shoulder. “you’re not a dummy dumb baby don’t be silly.”

“kay!” yuta funnily cheesed, leaning down to press a quick peck to your cheek before turning his attention back to buddy, the penguin oddly now excessively fluttering its wings and puffing up its chest over your interaction, honking and squawking more than usual as it waddled over to your side now instead of yuta’s.

“wha—” your boyfriend gawked, eyes narrowing at buddy. “what i can’t kiss my girlfriend? why not?”

buddy honked again and hopped in place on its little feet, yuta’s eyes only growing further into slits.

“what?” you giggled. “what’s wro— mpf!”

he cupped your cheeks and mushed your lips with his, buddy letting out a loud string of honks and squawking through the other side of the glass as yuta basically tongued you down, your cheeks instantly heating up at the random raunchy display of public affection.

he came off your lips with a smack and looked to the penguin again, his eyes then widening at the distressed state buddy was presumably in, jaw hanging open and frantic gaze switching to yours.

“buddy wants my girlfriend…” 

“huh?!” you laughed. “yu he’s—”

“you think i’m gonna let you in my frat now little man?” yuta let your face go and threw his hands up. “you were my second in command!”

“baby he’s a penguin what are you on about—”

“yeah a penguin that wants my girlfriend.” he mumbled, crossing his arms and bitterly looking off to the side. “i feel betrayed.”

you giggled, cheeks buzzing and pink as you reached up and patted the top of his head.

“c’mon yu let’s go it’s okay.” you interlaced your fingers with his and gently tugged him with you. “let’s go get something to eat—”

yuta pointed to buddy as you pulled him away.

“you’re out of the frat.”

“yuta!”

“what?!”

a total of ten more minutes was spent of you trying to drag him out of the exhibit and him still picking a fight— yuta in utter disbelief that buddy backstabbed him and wanted the same woman he did, him sulking and muttering the entire way to the sandwich shop to pick up lunch, you laughing at his silly behavior as you led him through the aquarium corridors and pathways to go to the flower exhibit, that being yours and yuta’s usual munching spot ever since you first came to the aquarium at the start of your relationship.

and although visiting the aquarium was something you both always did— specifically on a weekly basis and multiple times throughout it… the two of you loved it, especially yuta, for he was content in doing absolutely anything with you just so long as you were having fun and happy and with him, your regular endeavors of touching jellyfish, seeing buddy (even though he was currently on probation), and buying lunch at the usual deli spot next to the aquarium was something he loved and floored over just like you did, a thing he looked forward to everyday and unabashedly texted you constantly to see if you were up for another trip to your little usual spot.

but that’s precisely how yuta neglected to see how he was unawarely making you second guess yourself— your needs, because due to the fact that he was the happiest man alive by just your presence alone and didn’t need anything else, he failed to catch your disappointed frowns or taken aback blinking eyes when he rejected your shy little advances at a little something more than just a smoochie smooch, advances that were so humiliatingly tiny and fleeting that you never blamed him for missing them in the first place, and only blamed yourself for not being more obvious, frustrated for being upset over something like intimacy when it shouldn’t be on your mind as much as it was.

“did you want the same thing baby?” yuta asked, speaking over his shoulder with a little smile as you stood behind him. “or something different?”

“the same thing is fine!” you sweetly replied. “oh! but can i do curly fries with it instead of chips? if that’s okay?”

yuta laughed at your apprehensiveness, placing a hand on the back of your head and bringing you in to press a kiss to your forehead, fingers carding gently through your hair after.

“you don’t have to ask like that flower you know that.” he grinned, his hand moving from your hair to the side of your face, thumb softly caressing your pretty cheek. “whatever you need is always okay.”

you blushed, lips pursing shyly to the side as you nodded and thanked him gratefully, yuta shining another kind smile your way before dropping his hand and stepping forward to the cash register to order and pay— two delicious and stuffed deli sandwiches with chosen sides ready at the pick up counter within minutes.

the bag of food crinkled underneath yuta’s arm as he held it up against his chest, the other extending an offering hand out for you that you quickly took in response, the both of you leaving the deli shop and blissfully walking the familiar path towards the flower exhibit like muscle memory.

“let me have my bag yu, i feel bad that you’re carrying all of that yourself…” you spoke worriedly, arm already lifting for the strap on his shoulder.

“i’m alright!” he chirped, shoulder purposely moving away from your trying grasp as you passed through the entrance of the greenhouse— the complex fumigated with lovely mixtures of different floral scents that filled your nostrils as you walked through. “don’t worry flower it’s fine.”

you quirked a brow, a defiant hand reaching out for your bag anyways but it only met with yuta jerking his shoulder away from you again.

“yu!” you laughed, both hands now reaching out repeatedly and him playfully dodging every attempt you made, cute boyish snickers slipping past his lips as he moved quickly to avoid your grabbing fingers. “please you’ve been carrying it all day let me help you—”

yuta swiveled away from you and turned, him walking backwards as your purse jingled on the other side of him and unreachable from where you stood.

“nope!” he shook his head side to side. “but thank you baby! you’re sweet.”

you shot him a lighthearted glare.

“i’ll leave you for buddy if you don’t give me my purse—”

his jaw dramatically dropped and you giggled, a scoff leaving his open mouth as his eyes narrowed.

“now he’s done it.” you both stopped at your usual spot— a pretty little emerald green bench that sat underneath various potted voluminous flowers, hanging from the ceiling from chains and providing cooling shade from the slight sunny warmth of the greenhouse. “he’s gone behind my back and wooed you.”

you laughed, taking a seat with him as he set the bag of food in between the two of you.

“he ‘wooed’ me ever since we first met him silly.” you teased, reaching inside the bag and pulling out yuta’s sandwich, unraveling it from it’s wrapping for him before carefully passing it over. “he’s a cutie.”

he pouted, taking his food and setting it down on his lap. “and you don’t think i am?”

your cheeks heated at the cute face he was making, grabbing your own sandwich and unfolding the wrapping.

“buddy’s not president of a frat.” yuta spoke through a mouthful of his deli. “buddy didn’t try to win you over for a year straight. i did.”

you giggled, resting your head on his shoulder as you plopped a curly fry in your mouth.

“that’s very true.” you hummed. “but buddy did try to share his lunch with me that one time, remember? his fishy?”

yuta swallowed, looking down at you then and smiling fondly.

“you’re right he did.” he craned his neck and took the curly fry you were offering for him in between his teeth, chewing after. “i can’t compete with that can i?”

“nuh uh.” you grinned. “sorry yu! maybe if you give me a fish of your own i’ll reconsider hehe.”

he laughed loudly and kissed the top of your head.

“i can do that!” he spoke smugly. “shit i’ll give you five fish instead of just one. i bet buddy can’t do that.”

you giggled again and lifted your head up from his shoulder, carefully grabbing your deli and taking a bite out of it, plopping another curly fry into your mouth after to chew simultaneously.

“deal!” you chirped. “i’ll be waiting for my five fishies then.”

“but do i get something in return?” he smiled brightly, the suggestive tone in his voice making your face heat up and your heart simmer up with hope, you gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you tried to fucking calm yourself and not jump to conclusions.

“like what?” you asked, ever so cutely tilting your head to the side that it made yuta’s cheeks heat up.

“likeeee…” he looked up in giddy thought. “like you—”

a blaring ring cut through the tranquil atmosphere of the greenhouse, yuta dropping his sandwich on his lap and huffing as he dug through his pockets for his phone, him pulling it out and checking the caller i.d. before rolling his eyes and setting his sandwich down on the open bench space next to him, standing.

“i’m sorry baby it’s one of the guys…” he sighed, slight agitation in his chest as he diverted his attention to your pretty face. “i’m just gonna check what he wants really quick… is that okay?”

you frantically nodded and waved him off. “yes! yes yu that’s totally okay don’t worry! take your time.”

he gave you a soft smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek, stepping away.

“i’ll be back!” he called over his shoulder as he walked, quickly answering the call after and pressing the phone to his ear, striding a short distance away from you.

“what man?” 

you laughed at his grumbling as you heard it from afar, you already used to him frequently taking calls from the boys in his frat about upcoming events, expenses and member behaviors— not minding one single bit every time he had to step away for a moment to take care of issues, because you knew and wholeheartedly understood that his role was the most prestigious and demanding responsibility in his life at the moment, your heart warming at how apologetic he was each time he was forced to take a call… and you more worried about him and how stressed out he must be about having to basically babysit and watch over 35 different men and take care of their fuck ups.

“oh my god…” you heard him mumble, taking a bite out of your sandwich as you curiously listened in on the call. “why would he do that?”

your brows slightly furrowed in concern, a little anxious as you watched the way he rubbed a hand over his forehead exhaustedly.

“this is the second time he’s done this and i’m gonna get marked for his stupid shit again.”

marked?

you’d heard yuta use that phrase before… but the logistics of it you still didn’t really get nor remember clearly from what he had told you previously, the only thing you could really recall was that he’d already been marked once in the past.

he heavily sighed.

“no… no— tell him he’s banned from leaving the frat until i get there later tonight i’m serious. he can’t leave.”

yuta slowly started making his way back over to you, his eyes to the ground as he held the phone up against his ear.

“alright… thanks for calling. make an announcement to the rest of the boys that i’m holding a meeting when i get there please.”

you heard him bid his final goodbye’s before hanging up the phone, him stuffing it back in his pocket and lifting his other hand, scratching the back of his neck in irritating thought as you watched him come over, wide eyed.

“what happened?” you asked softly, gaze following him closely as he slumped down next to you on the bench with crossed arms, his brows pinched together.

“hm?” his eyes flickered to yours. “oh nothing flower… the VP just called me about some frat stuff.”

he made it seem like it was nothing, but the bouncing of his knee and the way he used his index finger to pick at the skin around the nail of his thumb… told you otherwise.

“yu…”

“yeah?”

you reached over and untangled his crossed arms, gently taking the hand he was picking at in yours to stop him from doing it, an anxious expression on your face.

“what does marked mean? and who’s banned from leaving the frat?”

an amused smile slowly spread across his lips, his grip on your hand tightening earnestly.

“you being nosy baby?” 

you blushed.

“sorry!” you blurted. “i didn’t mean to… you just looked really upset so i got worried.”

he shook his head, bringing your interlocked hands up to kiss the back of yours.

“i’m just teasing flower it’s okay.” he spoke quietly, a weird far-off look to his eyes as he stared down at your hands, the gnawing feeling in your chest only growing the longer he sat there without saying anything to you— a pinch between his brows.

“what’s wrong?” you tenderly squeezed his hand. “are the guys okay?”

“they’re being baboons.” he heavily exhaled, annoyed. “do you remember toma?”

“toma?” you tilted your head. “the one who started a fight with that other frat?”

“yeah, him.” he picked a curly fry from the food on your lap and took a bite. “he went back to their house with a few other guys and threw bricks at their windows.”

you gasped.

“and they lit off a firework inside.”

a hand flew over your mouth, your eyes blown fucking wide as yuta continued to irritably shove curly fries in his mouth.

“and the fucked up part is, is that i’m gonna be the one that eats shit from it by administration.” he continued, swallowing and bitterly shaking his head. “i really shouldn’t have let toma off easy from last time…”

“but why would you get in trouble yu?” you asked. “you didn’t do anything it was toma.”

he looked at you a little sadly, but more stressed out than anything.

“because i’m president baby…” he let go of your hand and picked up his sandwich. “i’m responsible for whatever they do and go down with them if they mess up. that’s what being marked means.”

you frowned, feeling totally annoyed at toma for being such a selfish stupid idiot for what he did, but feeling more agitated over the fact that yuta always seemed to get the short end of the stick when it came to their mishaps just because he was president, when all he’s ever actually done for the frat is keep them out of trouble and amicably successful, it’s level of popularity and recognition one the previous president failed at as yuta had thousands of applications each year with new brothers trying to enroll.

“toma’s a freshman so… i get it, but—” he took a small bite of his sandwich and spoke through a mouthful. “he’s fucking stupid.”

you giggled softly, leaning back on the bench and crossing your arms before speaking.

“what’s gonna happen with you and administration?” 

“depends on how much that other frat complains.” he swallowed. “it’s destruction of property and basically almost killing someone with that firework… so i could be expelled. and toma.”

you froze, your head whipping in his direction and you baffled at the way yuta continued to chow down on his sandwich like he didn’t just say something like that.

“are you kidding me?” you breathed out. “expulsion?”

“that or i lose my position.” 

and yuta still didn’t show any signs of fear or anger as he stole more curly fries from your lap… but you on the other hand… were freaking the fuck out.

“yu oh my god—” you placed an exasperated hand over your forehead, chest ragged as you thought of all of the things yuta could lose when he worked so fucking hard to get them throughout his entire college career. 

“there— there has to be some kind of appeal we can do maybe— maybe if we get the rest of your guys to back you up it could be just toma getting expelled or—”

yuta slowed his chewing and looked your way, an expression of endearment crossing his face over how much you cared about him and his life, a little laugh escaping past his lips.

“it’s okay flower… don’t worry.” he reached up and placed a flat hand on top of your head. “i’m on good terms with administration so they won’t do anything like that.”

“how do you know though?” you murmured, eyes falling to your lap. “toma committed a crime yuta. i don’t think they’ll let you guys off that easy.”

his hand slid from your head down to cup under your jaw, gently lifting your face to look at him.

“i’ll handle it… okay?” he pushed softly. “don’t stress yourself over my frat stuff baby it’s not good for you.”

he leaned and placed a cute peck to your lips, letting your jaw go after and smiling at the blush on your cheeks.

“the most they’ll do is put us both on social probation or give us a warning… but either way i’m personally putting toma on social probation for being a fucking airhead.”

“social probation?” you softly spoke. “what’s that?”

yuta felt a sense of pride for himself every time you asked him about specifics on frat boy terms or rules, it being the only thing that he could really teach you and help you learn as he was a dummy dumb and didn’t know much about anything else, a complete contrast from your smarts and knowledge that he loved to drink up any time you told him special facts, or explained to him things he didn’t get (and would sometimes pretend he did when he actually didn’t to save himself the embarrassment…).

so whenever the opportunity came up of your sweet shy voice asking him about his fraternity? he was absolutely floored.

“we basically can’t host parties or events for some time.” he explained. “i try my best to never land our frat in social probation because it fucks up our relevancy… we basically go dead for a bit and other frats or sororities forget about us until we host the next event.”

“what?!— that’s bad tooo!” you whined, a hand flying over your forehead again as your brain tried to come up with ways to avoid this in addition to the potential expulsion, yuta only laughing and wrapping a hand around your lifted wrist.

“baby no— it’s okay!” he spoke between giggles, lowering your arm. “its really not that bad… i want social probation.”

“why the hell would you want that?” you pouted.

“because i get to spend more time with you.” he grinned, a big and shiny one too as he quickly smooched your cute cheek and leaned back on the bench, shoving the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. “i won’t have to spend time organizing parties or events and instead hang out with you flower.”

your heart fluttered on fucking overdrive in your chest, you shyly looking away then and mirroring him by leaning back on the bench, a silly smile on your face.

“more time to visit buddy too?”

“no.” he spoke firmly, and you giggled. “i put buddy on social probation we can’t go see him.”

you giggled some more with a hand over your mouth, yuta looking at you with hearts in his eyes as his ears greedily swallowed down your precious laughter to commit to memory, him reminded once again of how much of a sweetheart you were— but also of how easy it was for a man like him to lose you entirely because of his social stance and the people that he was surrounded with.

and at the thought of that, yuta subconsciously reached over and wrapped his arms around your waist, slowly pulling you snug and flush against his body as his insecurities overtook his thoughts for a moment.

“yu?” you snaked your arms around his neck and embraced him back, your brows furrowing. “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

“i’m fine.” he replied simply, but his hold on you only tightened.

you frowned. 

“are you finally worried about what administration’s gonna do?”

he snorted and shook his head against your shoulder. 

“fuck no.” he pulled back just enough to plant a kiss on your forehead. “i don’t care what they do flower… and you shouldn’t either okay?”

he was worried about driving you away.

and it wasn’t too often when his mind drifted to the thought, but it happened often enough that it sometimes kept him up at night on particularly bad days, and especially when he happened to catch another rumor about either of you that made him hope with everything he had that you didn’t end up catching it too.

but you always did. and you kept it to yourself that you did.

but funnily enough, it was like you and yuta were sitting pretty on a see saw and the stupid metal thing switched positions to you being the one at the top instead of him— you now lost in your thoughts as he remained grounded and okay, driving you home at the end of the day after your aquarium date with your hands folded tightly over your lap, silent as the quiet murmur of his car radio filled the air.

maybe if you just— sort of made a move now… yuta would get the hint? and maybe something intimate would finally happen? … maybe?

you anxiously gnawed at your bottom lip and stared out the window, swallowing down your nerves as you tried to come up with a way to instill something steamier between the two of you for the time being, and a way that wasn’t out of your comfort zone either as you were too pathetically shy to try something obvious.

but you knew that either way… you had to just— attempt it.

“oh! your parents aren’t home baby.”

you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up, your parents car sure enough not in the driveway as yuta pulled in, your heart hammering in your rib cage as you took that as a definitive sign to initiate something with him in the best way you knew how.

“do you wanna…” you pursed your lips. “do you wanna come in? for a little bit?”

he unknowingly beamed and nodded. “yeah! i do flower.”

you let out a nervous breath and nodded, hands shakily opening the passenger side door and you both stepping out of the car, shutting them behind you before beginning to walk up the path to your front door, you getting your keys out to unlock it and pushing it open once you did.

yuta had been to your house plenty of times before already, but your parents were always home.

this is the first time he was over where they weren’t.

“do you want something to drink?” you asked sweetly, him walking over and plopping down on your living room couch. “like… like soda? or beer? i think my dad just bought a pack—”

“oh no it’s okay!” he patted the spot next to him. “just sit with me baby.”

butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you nodded, nervously walking to the couch then and sitting down next to him.

“do you have a lot of homework for tonight?” yuta gently placed an arm around your shoulders. “i won’t stay too long if you do so you can do it.”

you quickly shook your head.

“no! no i don’t have any. you can stay as long as you want.”

he grinned.

“sweet!”

his handsome face sent another wave of nerves and need through your body as you breathed in deeply through your nose, your hands going cold over how anxious you were.

“tomorrow we should—”

you grabbed his face and brought him down, shoving your lips to his and cutting him off as his eyes blew wide, his cheeks immediately growing a bright shade of red while you kissed him in such a way that you’ve never ever done before, yuta’s palms quickly clamming up as he tried to simmer down the nasty thoughts that flew through his mind then.

why did he always have to be such a whore?

your hands slid down and around his neck before he even had time to think, his flying to your waist as smooching wet noises from your moving lips only fueled the fire and had him breathing erratically, knowing he was so fucking fucked if he didn’t put an end to this now.

“flower—”

you muffled his attempt with your god sent kisses, the way you were so aggressive with it shooting blood straight to his cock and causing him to completely miss the way you pulled him on top of you down on the couch, your pretty plush thighs around his waist making him choke against your mouth and force himself off of you without another second.

“w—what?” you drew your hands back against your chest, fearing that you did something wrong as he stared down at you with swollen lips and a heaving chest, his back upright.

“i—” he wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head and trying to look at anything but the sight of you under him and the way your legs were spread around him.

“nothing! heh!” he laughed nervously, bashfully scratching the back of his neck as he moved away and created distance between you both, failing at catching the hurt flashing through your eyes.

you felt like you did something wrong.

“s—sorry if i squished you or—”

“no!” he blurted. “no you didn’t. it’s okay.”

then what?

you shyly tried to lean in again to continue, when yuta suddenly sprang up from the couch and stepped back, the abruptness of it making you flinch and stare at him wide eyed.

yuta needed to take a breather now before he ended up stripping you naked and— and hurting you…

but unaware of the fact that he already did.

“i’m gonna—” he struggled. “i’m gonna call one of the guys.”

what?

“i’ll be outside.”

“yu—”

he hastily walked to the front door and opened it before he stepped out, quickly closing it behind him and cutting you off, leaving you dumbfounded as you slowly sat up in silence and thinking you had done something wrong… you were sure of it.

horrifying embarrassment flooded your entire being then as you tried to blink back tears, feeling like a total loser and awful that you didn’t know how to properly initiate anything with him, you growing a little sick over the fleeting reminder of his past rendezvous and other girls doing it so successfully… that you were ashamed of yourself for being unable to do something as simple as fucking make out with him.

you quickly wiped the little tears that managed to slip from your eyes and stood, unsure if you even wanted to see him now because of your pathetic mess up, your desperate gaze searching around the kitchen for something to do to take your mind off of it as you walked over, your line of sight landing on the small pile of dishes left by your parents and you immediately going towards the sink— turning the faucet on.

a couple of more minutes passed before you eventually heard the front door open and click shut, your heart rate fucking escalating and feeling mortified again as footsteps came up from behind you, your eyes literally gorilla glued down to the dishes you were washing.

“the boys are killing each other right now.” yuta sighed, leaning against the counter next to you with his arms crossed. “the VP told me they’re divided in half trying to see if they should kill toma or not.”

you laughed softly, rinsing off a small glass cup under the running warm water and thankful that your hair was blocking your view of him.

“i thought they would all want to kill him for what he did.” you spoke.

“most of them do!” he slid closer. “but some of them think it’s funny… and the others are losing it over landing in social probation.”

you hummed, setting each rinsed off dish carefully on the rack next to you as you went.

“what about toma? do you know if he regrets—”

you stiffened at the feeling of yuta taking your hair in between his fingers and gently pulling back, brushing it behind your ear as you finally made eye contact with him, yuta shooting you a breathtaking smile— one that was so fucking contagious that you couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“sorry baby… i didn’t mean to cut you off.” he leaned back and crossed his arms again. “i couldn’t see you.”

you shook your head, standing on your tippy toes and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“no it’s okay!”

yuta had the power of having anyone and anything on their knees and at his feet with simply just a look of his godly face, and whether he knew it or not you weren’t sure of— only that the population of anyone and anything included you as well, for the minute he smiled at you in the way that he always did, you forgot entirely the shame and embarrassment you were shitting yourself over from the events prior.

though yuta did know…. he’d always known. but he stopped giving a fuck about it from the moment he met you— the only person he wanted by his side and the only opinion he cared about and strove to please, completely disregarding anyone else and putting you first above anything in his life, including his fraternity, him never listening when you fought him about it and told him he shouldn’t do that, because he felt as if he definitely should.

always and without fail.

“i feel bad keeping you here though if they’re having a full blown melt down over there...” you smiled sheepishly. “you should be there with them yu.”

he pouted.

“but what if i said i didn’t want to?” he quipped, tilting his head. “hm?”

you shot him a look, and he sighed, shoulders dropping.

“i know…” he took a step towards you and swung his arms around your shoulders from behind, mushing his cheek against the side of your head as you continued to wash dishes. “the VP was literally crying on the fucking phone and i couldn’t hear him well over the yelling in the back.”

you laughed, picturing the silly vision of a bunch of frat boys arguing and fighting over not being able to throw parties or go to events for a while, it probably seeming like the end of the world for them if they’re not able to interact with other sorority girls, and living instead on what felt like a dead deserted island devoid of alcohol and beer pong until yuta came to be the saving grace and lift their violations.

drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel, you turned around in yuta’s hold and gave him a cute smile.

“go baby.” you pushed softly. “they need their papa.”

he playfully rolled his eyes.

“they’re full grown men and yet i still have to teach some of them how to do their laundry.”

you quirked a brow.

“didn’t i show you how to do that?”

“…no.”

you burst out laughing again at the embarrassed and flushed look on his face, his eyes darting away from yours and looking off to the side.

you craned your neck to kiss the tip of his pink nose and grinned, his gaze shifting back to you with a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“i’ll see you tomorrow.” you spoke gently. “and keep me updated on what happens when you get there okay?”

“mkay.” he loosened his hold on you and stepped a bit back, you affectionately squeezing his side as he did. “i’ll call you tonight if i make it out alive.”

you giggled, nodding as he released you entirely and began walking over to your front door, you following closely behind and opening it for him once you both got there.

“bye flower!” he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “i love you.”

you shyly smiled and leaned against the side of the door as he stepped out. 

“i love you too yuuuu.”

he stopped and turned his head to look at you from over his shoulder, sheepishly pursing his lips.

“can i just stay—”

“no!” you laughed, extending an arm and gently nudging him away by the shoulder. “go silly…. your frat’s gonna end up in flames if you don’t.”

yuta chuckled, knowing you were funnily actually correct and not over exaggerating in the slightest, the two of you well aware that his fraternity brothers had the tendency to be a bunch of reckless morons if he wasn’t there to guide them or make sure they weren’t stepping over the line.

and sometimes… (almost always though), he wished he could stop everyone in his damn college campus from stepping over the line like he could with his frat guys, their ridiculous and ludicrous rumors about his relationship with you never failing to set him off and make him anxious that you’ll worry your precious mind over it and believe them.

yuta tried to keep you away from that as much as he possibly could.

anytime you both took strolls throughout campus, or decided to visit that nice little student run bakery that you loved so much every morning, if he ever saw someone— anyone that was in his circle, that he knew for a fact had insinuated those rumors, or if they simply just had a nasty fucking attitude and he didn’t want you to get caught in the middle of it, he would gently steer you the other way with a hand around your shoulders and a loving little smile on his face, shielding you from a world of undeserving popularity, dishonesty, and calculated disingenuous foolery that only served to benefit the wrong people.

and yet still… all of that was his world after all.

and yuta couldn’t shield you from everything.

“who? yuta okkotsu?”

your ears perked up, gaze flickering from your notebook up to the two girls that sat in front of you during your afternoon lecture, pencil stilling in your hand.

“yeah him! the one that got with layla a while back.”

layla?

you pursed your lips in distaste, sighing a little through your nose and shifting your attention back to your notes, feeling a little silly for being bitter over a girl yuta got with before you.

but he got with her nonetheless… something he still hadn’t done with you.

“oh to be her…” one of them sadly sighed. “i would give anything to get dicked down by him.”

your jaw silently dropped, not knowing whether you should be bothered by that statement or laugh.

“i heard he has a girlfriend now though.” the other spoke.

“hah?! who?”

“dunno.” she shrugged. “someone told me it’s some nerdy girl that’s in the same year as him. she’s really easy to miss.”

you internally rolled your eyes and lightly pushed your notebook to the side, deciding to divert your attention towards your laptop screen instead.

“you’re fucking joking right?”

“nope!”

“that’s such a waste.” she expressed. “why would he be with that when he could be with layla? everybody wants layla shit— even i want layla sometimes.”

“you’re such a bitch!” her other friend cackled and smacked her arm. “but no yeah… i give it a year max. i heard he doesn’t whore around anymore, but considering how long he chased after me for a quick fuck? there’s no way he’s suddenly just— a saint.”

“do you regret rejecting him?” 

“yes oh my god— i was trying to be mysterious and different but he ended up just fucking someone else that same night—”

you hadn’t noticed how hard you were gripping your pencil until a cramping pain shot through your knuckles, you instantly relaxing and setting it softly off to the side.

“fuck! you know what?” one of them jumped up excitedly. “i actually heard he’s still seeing layla!”

the other gasped. “you’re lying!”

“no i’m not i swear!” she snatched her phone from the desk and frantically typed away. “ricky— you know ricky? he said one of layla’s close friends spilled that they talk so much and meet up sometimes to fuck—”

“stooop his poor girlfriend! oh my god someone needs to tell her—”

you slammed your laptop shut and stood, you never one to skip out on lectures or leave early but not giving a single fuck at the moment as you packed up, physically unable to hear anything else and feeling straight up nauseous at everything they were saying, drowning out the rest of their rambling as you swung your bag over your shoulder and pushed your chair in, walking out of class and leaving your lecture hall as a whole.

they’re just rumors.

they’re just two bitches with nothing better to do and were weirdly obsessed with your boyfriend's personal business.

yuta would never do that to you…

but was he— was he that obsessed with layla before you? and did he seriously fuck around with every girl he could possibly get his hands on?

so what was so different about you? his actual girlfriend?

“flower?”

you stiffened, eyes snapping up from the floor and landing on a surprised looking yuta, waiting for you by your class like he always did.

“you’re out of class already?” he tapped on his phone to wake it up. “it doesn’t end for another thirty minutes i was gonna go get my car from the parking lot to get you—”

you hated yourself for feeling like he was the last person you wanted to see… but you just couldn’t help it.

“i left.”

your simple quiet reply took him a bit off guard.

“you left?” he tilted his head. “but you never leave class early… are you feeling a little rebellious today baby?”

he smiled big and expected a pretty giggle from you at his teasing then— but he got nothing.

your face was still stoic, and with a small pinch in between your brows.

“mhm.”

his smile wavered.

“o—okay…” he put his phone back in his pocket. “well— the boys are organizing for our fundraising event… and i— i was gonna ask if you could help me with our booth banner and decorations baby? everything we made looks like chicken scratch and you have pretty handwriting…”

your heart clenched so fucking hard in your chest, wanting to say yes with everything in you, but the annoying stupid gossip from earlier soliciting bitter jealousy in your mind that unfortunately overpowered everything else.

“i’m sorry yu…” you mumbled, eyes looking away. “i don’t feel that great today so i’m just gonna go home. i’ll help tomorrow though if that’s alright.”

“oh— you don’t feel good?” yuta frowned, stepping closer. “what’s wrong?”

yuta caught the way you took a step back, and he blinked.

“i just feel nauseous is all.” you weakly smiled. “i’m gonna go home for the day and hopefully feel better in the morning.”

you felt nauseous?

“what did you eat today? let me take you to get some meds—” 

he tried to place a soothing hand on your back, but the way you moved away from him again set off a thousand blaring alarms in his head.

“i—it’s okay!” you stammered, hugging yourself and starting to walk in the opposite direction towards the parking lot. “i’m just gonna head home yu i’ll text you—”

“flower wait—”

yuta quickly caught your hand, his eyes flooded in absolute worry and confusion as he looked at you.

you were never like this with him.

and— and any time you were sick you always wanted to be with him to let him take care of you.

“what yu?” you mumbled, your sad gaze finally dragging up to look at him in the eyes.

“baby what’s wrong?” he asked softly. “i feel like it’s something else.”

you bit down on the inside of your cheek.

“i just feel nauseous.”

“well then come to my frat okay? you can— you can take a nap in my room and i think i have some nausea meds somewhere—”

his grip on your hand tightened a little.

“or maybe we can take a walk somewhere and that’ll help? like at the aquarium? we can visit buddy—”

yuta’s frantic blubbering to try to get you to stay with him sent a shooting pang of guilt through your chest, it breaking you from that weird and awful headspace you were in as your eyes softened.

you shamefully realized then that it really wasn’t fair you were treating him like this… especially because he quite literally didn’t do anything at all— you feeling silly and awful that you rejected his advances and were off with him when all he was trying to do was help you feel better.

the rumors and gossip was something that was completely out of his control… and you shouldn’t punish him for that.

you took a small step forward then, giving him a tiny hesitant smile.

“we can… go to your frat yu.”

he perked up.

“yeah?” 

“yeah.”

you timidly reached up and softly slid your arms around his neck, yuta immediately responding by pulling your body snug against his with a squeeze, relieved that you agreed to come home with him and that you were letting him touch you again— pecking the side of your head before letting go and gently leading you to his car.

but the tight feeling in his chest didn’t go away.

it was nagging at him, and annoyingly so as he tried to dumb down his stupid insecurities and not overthink on the drive to his frat house, trying to settle himself with the reasoning you had told him and trying not to think about the way you kept dodging his hands, that you were just a little sick is all…

so then— why had you looked so upset?

and yuta’s turmoil only grew once he started to juggle the possibility of it being not something you felt, but something you heard.

a rumor.

“a woman! yuta brought a woman!”

“it’s y/n idiot.” yuta shot back to one of his frat brothers, sending you a playful eye roll as he closed the door behind you upon arrival.

“oh it is! hiii yyy/nnnn!” a different one spoke up, a handful of them huddled over a large table in the dining room with a sheet of white poster paper laying in the middle.

“hiii.” you shyly spoke, a sweet polite smile on your face that yuta swooned over as he placed an arm around your shoulders, leading you to the table.

“what the—” yuta’s eyes squinted over the poster paper as you slapped a hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh and your eyes darting over how horrid the layout design of the banner was for their fundraising event, your boyfriend not exaggerating in the slightest when he said it looked like chicken scratch.

men.

“how did you guys manage to make it worse?!” yuta exclaimed, loudly laughing as he leaned over the table and pointed at specific weird smudges and drawings. “i was only gone for an hour!”

you giggled and leaned over with him, some of the boys making room for you so you could properly take a peek at their so-called vigorous work, your amused eyes gazing over the messily painted bold black lettering and the odd random drawings of smiley faces and money.

yuta burst out laughing again.

“who the fuck drew this?!” he pointed to a specific drawing of a weirdly shaped stick man holding a tray of cookies, the smile on its face so cartoonishly huge and toothy that you had to bite down hard on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from laughing, not wanting to offend whoever it was that drew it.

“it was toma!” someone from the crowd spoke up.

“toma?!” yuta shook his head incredulously, scanning the faces of his brothers until they landed on an annoyingly familiar pair of eyes— the culprit hiding behind a few other guys and snickering.

“what?!” toma whined, stepping through the boys and crossing his arms. “i was trying to help out.”

this was the first time you’d properly seen toma up close (and meeting him altogether actually), you not particularly accustomed to him yet like the other guys since he was a freshman, him having just come in for the year and you not really knowing much about him besides from the stories yuta’s told you, your recollections of the shit he’s done and said making it obvious that toma was rowdy and reckless in nature.

“with that?” yuta laughed again. “why’s the mouth bigger than its own head?”

“because he’s happy.” toma shrugged, a playful little curl to his lips. “he’s just so jolly to be selling cookies at a fundraiser, and i wanted to show off my rare artistic talent for the frat!”

“oh yeah? that’s what you wanted?” yuta leaned his weight on the side of his hip. “draw me some cute pictures on a piece of paper then, i’ll put them on the fridge for you and your probation buttheads to see.”

several brothers snickered while toma slumped, a distressed look on his face.

“yuta please i helped out so you’d lift my probation!” he exclaimed, freezing and cowering under your boyfriends sudden glare. “…maybe?”

in regards to toma’s outbreak, administration ended up just giving yuta and his entire frat a warning upon him meeting with them last week, leaving it ultimately up to him to decide what he wanted to do with toma and the pack he led to the other frat house, and yuta keeping true to his word to you, put them all on a three month social probation with no fucks given.

“are you nuts?” yuta chuckled. “you’re looking for parole with a drawing like that?”

“your girlfriend likes it! look she’s laughing!” all eyes shot to you and you froze, your giggles instantly halting and a hand flying over your mouth.

“sorry! i don’t—”

yuta shot him another menacing glare, deadlier than the last one as he picked up a marker from the table and chucked it at toma, it landing right smack on his forehead and clattering to the ground, the rest of the boys boastfully laughing.

“i’ll tell yuta to make your probation four months if you don’t get out of my face right now.” the vice president spoke up, moving through the crowd until he reached the front. 

yuta shrugged. “oh i was already gonna do that.”

“no! why?!” toma threw his hands up in desperation. “for what reason?! because of a drawing?!”

“it’s the only poster paper we have toma.” your boyfriend grumbled. 

“and you’re not even supposed to be down here around the fundraising shit.” the vice president spat. “you’re supposed to be upstairs with the rest of your—”

“i came down ‘cause i was thirsty!—”

“you drew on the poster paper!—”

“yu.” you murmured through their continuous bickering and yelling— tugging on his shirt to try and get his attention, his eyes flickering to yours and head quickly coming down to listen.

“what happened baby?” his grip on your shoulder tightened a little. “is it your nausea?”

“oh! no i’m okay now!” you smiled. “i can do your guys’ fundraiser poster still, i’ll just flip it over to the blank side and work there.”

“aw flower that’s okay! not when you’re feeling a little sick...” he looked at you fondly, a kind half grin on his lips as he placed a flat palm on top of your head.

“no honestly i’m alright!” you quickly shook your head and looked towards the poster and the rest of the boys, them still fighting and blaming each other over nonsense that had to do with social probations, the ruined poster, and sorority girls— wanting to ease them a little in anyway you possibly could, as well as mentally make up for the stupid white lie you had told him earlier.

yuta’s hand slid from your head back down to your shoulder, apprehensive.

“are you— are you sure?” his eyes shifted to the poster. “i feel bad making you do the work i’m supposed to be doing…”

“you’re not making me do anything silly.” you reassured with a small laugh. “i wanna help yu… its really okay. honestly.”

a gradual beaming smile spread across his face then, the hand on your shoulder pulling you in and yuta pressing a big fat kiss to the side of your head, enamored by everything that you were as he leaned back and nodded gratefully, letting you go.

“thank you flower—”

“okkotsu these beasts are out of control.”

the vice president struggled through the moving pushy crowd to reach the both of you, looking so utterly pissed off and overwhelmed as he elbowed and shoved to get face to face with yuta, a tad bit out of breath.

“they’re freaking out over toma’s fuck up and now they somehow think the fundraiser’s fucked up and i actually do think we fucked up—”

“hey— it’s okay! relax.” yuta placed a hand on his shoulder. “why do you think that? we’re not—”

“because the posters fucked.” he huffed out, trying to even his breathing. “so then we look like the biggest shitheads at the fundraiser by default and everyone’s gonna buy the sorority girls cookies instead of ours so then we’re gonna be broke and we can’t throw parties without money— why are you laughing.”

yuta covered his mouth and shook his head.

“i’m not— sorry—”

“this is serious man my god!” he slapped yuta’s hand off his shoulder and glared. “they’re about to brawl over toma’s stupid drawing i can’t control them and you’re laughing?!”

his gaze quickly shifted to you.

“y/n he’s awful dear god help me—”

“alright okay— i’ll deal with them don’t worry.” your boyfriend looked at him pointedly. “you do that too much.”

“what, give a shit? my bad sir honestly my effing mistake—”

you giggled and yuta laughed at his sarcasm, lightheartedly shoving his shoulder.

“go to bed man you’ve been dealing with this all day.” he sent him a sympathetic smile. “y/n offered to do our poster and i’m gonna help so we’ll be done by morning—”

surprise crossed the vice president’s face, his eyes flickering to yours once more.

“actually?” 

you nodded with a smile.

“oh thank god—” the color seemed to return to his face, him placing a hand on his chest and feeling relief wash over him as he looked at you, reciprocating your smile. “thank you y/n. seriously.”

“mhm! no problemmm.” you responded kindly. “but rest please. you’ll make yourself sick if you keep stressing like this…”

you’d lost count how many times you’d seen the vice president lose his shit over anything that had to do with the frat, it evidently obvious how much he cared for the boys and the fraternity despite his humorous verbal abuse— him being possibly the only brother in yuta’s frat that you respected and trusted out of anyone else in there, and often went to him whenever you had questions about their upcoming events or things in relation if yuta wasn’t available.

“alright.” the vice president sent you both a small smile before turning around to face the rowdy men-filled crowd, raising his hands up.

“okay away from the table! everybody leave and go to bed we have a fundraiser tomorrow! cabinet will deal with it just away— toma what the fuck are you still doing down here?!”

“i have to talk to yuta!” he whined. “you were hogging him the entire time.”

the crowd began to disperse as toma made his way forward.

“he’s not gonna lift your probation stupid.”

“i know!” he spat. “it’s about something else.”

yuta quirked a brow.

“something else?” 

there was a devilish glint to his eyes, and yuta internally rolled his, turning to the vice president.

“it’s okay.” he placed a gentle palm on your lower back and softly ushered you forward. “can you show y/n where the materials are for the poster please? i’ll be there in a minute.”

the vice president nodded and smiled politely at you, beckoning you over to the table where the ruined poster lay, markers and paint brushes and little cups of paint scattered about in disarray as you approached.

yuta’s attention shifted to toma, crossing his arms.

“what is it? you alright?”

“are you cheating on your girlfriend?”

yuta froze, brows immediately pinching together.

“what?”

toma shrugged. “are you? it’s what i’ve been hearing.”

“hearing?” he stepped closer. “from who?”

“dunno. like— almost everyone. too much to say.”

yuta’s heart dropped.

who the fuck was saying that?

“no you moron i’m not.” he snapped. “but… if you can figure out who’s spreading it… i’ll— consider lifting your probation.”

toma lit up.

“will you?!”

“i said consider.”

yuta’s face was blank and cold, wanting to quickly put an end to the conversation as it was making him fucking queasy, nodding his head up towards the stairs.

had you heard this rumor?

“go up before the VP chews you out.”

“good idea!” toma flashed him a goofy thumbs up and scrambled away to his designated room, yuta shaking his head as he walked over to you and the vice president, his eyes cast down to the ground in pensive thought.

why couldn’t people just leave you and him alone?

“—and we literally only have blue, yellow, red, and green like the most rancid colors—”

“oh that’s okay!” you laughed. “they’re primary colors i can mix to make new ones if i need to.”

“great!” the VP smiled. “i’m going to bed.”

“go man.” yuta chuckled, patting a friendly hand to his back. “thank you again.”

he nodded and began making his way to the staircase, hopping up the steps. 

“i’ll set up in the morning for the fundraiser and handle the guys!” yuta loudly mentioned. “will you just check attendance for me please?”

“yeah!” the vice president called out from down the hall, his voice gradually fading with each step until he was out of earshot, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the huge dim living room.

you looked to the poster and grabbed the ends then, flipping it over to the clean blank side and picking up a nearby spare pencil to begin sketching.

“i was thinking of writing your fraternity's name in calligraphy up here—” you pointed to a spot a little above center. “and then ‘cookie sale’ down here? do you like that?”

“sounds great flower!” yuta smiled big. “what’s calligraphy?”

you giggled, picking up a ruler and drawing a faint straight line across to make sure you weren’t going crooked as you went. 

“it’s kind of like cursive but just a bit chunkier.” you explained softly, starting to sketch out the loopy lettering. “it looks really pretty on projects and advertisements.”

yuta hummed, peering over your shoulder from behind you as you worked.

“and then i was thinking of drawing little cookies floating around? and stars? or maybe—”

“you know i love you right?”

you stopped, shifting your body slightly in his direction to reveal an anxious looking yuta, worry splattered all over his face as he waited for your response.

was… he okay?—

“of course i d—”

“and you know i’d never do anything to hurt you right?”

you fully turned your body around now to properly face him, your eyes filled with concern as you put your pencil down.

“i do baby…” you softly replied. “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta sighed through his nose and shook his head, placing his hands at the edge of the table on either sides of you, his head slumping down to gently rest against your forehead.

“nothing.” he muttered. “i just— think.”

“you just think?” you lifted your arms and slid them around his shoulders, giving him a little comforting squeeze. “about what… hm?”

“you.”

he was always thinking of you.

every morning, every evening, every night.

there wasn’t ever a time that yuta wasn’t thinking of you— of how you were, if you were feeling okay and if you’d gotten enough to eat in the morning… if you still loved him.

because unfortunately, there also wasn’t ever a time that yuta wasn’t thinking about the different ways he could lose you, since his past always seemed to come back to haunt him and damage the only good fucking thing remaining in his life, fearfully living on the edge and awfully insecure despite his reputation, one that was programmed for him to be thoughtless and careless and something he actually was once before.

but yuta wasn’t that person anymore.

except it still wasn’t enough.

“really?” a blush rose to your cheeks with a cheeky smile, you leaning back the tiniest bit. “and what about me yu?”

the corner of his lip quirked up— his face a little tired, but soft.

“how smart you are.” he spoke quietly. “and pretty. with pretty handwriting.”

you giggled, the sound filling yuta’s chest with warmth and the crinkles by your eyes making him stupidly swoon, bringing you in closer by the waist and pressing a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose.

“please tell me you know that.”

your brows furrowed a bit.

he’d never been this— serious with you before and stating things that were already the obvious, the way he clutched tighter at your waist and the sunken defeated expression he wore, was something that indefinitely alarmed you as your eyes quickly scoured over his features. 

“yuta.”

his eyes flickered up to yours.

“yeah flower?”

“what’s wrong.” you pushed gently, your hands slipping down from his shoulders to cup his cheeks. “why are you telling me this?”

“because i need to.” his head slowly tilted, cheek leaning into your touch. “i need you to know.”

“but i do know.” you shook your head. “you’re telling me things i’ve known since we became friends yuta…”

he still didn’t look alleviated in the slightest by your words, and you frowned.

“remember earlier when you asked me what was wrong? after i’d left class early?”

he silently nodded against your hands.

“the way you felt then about wanting to know is how i feel now.” you explained. “i can tell when you’re thinking too much about something baby…”

he sighed deeply through his nose and his eyes fluttered shut.

he didn’t want to bombard you with his insecurities or make you feel like it was your job to pull him from those agitating depth full thoughts… and he didn’t want to make you feel responsible for any of it either.

it was all just— him.

and everybody on campus who didn’t know how to shut the fuck up too, for it made his overthinking worse.

“i’m scared i’m gonna mess up.” he admitted, laughing humorlessly. “and ruin what we’ve built.”

“huh?” your eyes slightly narrowed. “why do you say that?… you won’t—”

“the rumors flower…” he mumbled, head lifting from your hands. “everyone’s apparently waiting for me to fuck up just because they like who i used to be better.”

your eyes softened, palms coming down to rest flat against his chest as you listened.

“i hate that they can’t accept i’m with you… and i hate that i let them bother me so much.” 

his hands and arms lifted from your waist to wrap around your head instead, caging you into his embrace. 

“i hate that they talk about you.” he whispered in your hair. “i hate that i can’t do anything about it.”

everyone on this stupid freaking campus could drag yuta through the dirt and say he was a loser and a sleaze, that he was an awful human being and deserved to rot in the deepest pits of hell— as he wouldn’t mind any of it in the slightest if it meant sparring you completely.

if he could, if you’d let him… he would drop it all for you.

“you’re not gonna mess up anything...” you breathed out a soft laugh as you pulled back, your fingers coming up to card and caress through his soft raven strands. “and if you do, that’s okay! we’ll just fix it baby.”

the scent of his citrusy cologne wafted through your nostrils, the smell one of the most comforting things in your fucking life as you sunk your nose further into the fabric of his clothing then.

“i’m sure there’ll be moments when i mess up too.” you murmured against him, gently. “but we’ll deal with it together… so you shouldn’t let what anyone says about anything affect you so much okay?”

you leaned back again and gave his head a little pat.

“you look so stressed and i don’t like it.”

he chuckled softly and picked his head up, eyes peering down at you for a moment and staring before he lifted his head completely, his posture a little straighter as he nodded.

“i’m sorry.” he sheepishly smiled. “i just get in my head sometimes.”

you smiled back warmly, shaking your head and understanding to the fucking max where he’s coming from, for you were silently in the same exact position right at this moment and yet too cowardly to seek reassurance like he was rightfully doing.

“s’okay!” your hands slid from his hair down to his chest, standing on your tippy toes to give him a tiny peck on the lips. “don’t be sorry.”

yuta couldn’t control the rumors or what people had to say about the both of you.

but what he could control, were his actions and his words to you… and it was almost like he wanted to prove a point to every single dickhead on campus and make them see, believe and comprehend that you weren’t just a toy for him to disgustingly use and have a simple fling with, deciding in that moment to prioritize your happiness and satisfaction above all else.

he needed you to know that he wasn’t using you.

so he created distance.

and although it wasn’t distance that was detrimental or cruel to you or your relationship, it was enough of a distance that you noticed right away while helping out at his fraternity’s fundraiser the next day— you offering to assist the vice president in keeping track of the total number of cookie sales and stock, refilling the stands and glass casings whenever it was needed while yuta dealt with the boys, him networking with other frat guys from several different universities as well and charming them with his usual second nature charisma, anyone who spoke to him succumbing up to it so much that they’d be swayed enough to buy packs and packs of cookies.

you’d even witnessed stampeding crowds of sorority girls and staff buy dozens of batches simply because yuta kindly flashed them a handsome smile and an enthusiastic hello, you sat at the booth blinking in dumbfounded amazement as the vice president worked the register and cashed in wads of dollar bills, the shelves cleaning themselves out quicker than you thought.

but every time you tried to talk to yuta or give him a kiss… it was almost hurried from him— interlocked fingers that were fleeting and only lasted a couple seconds, yuta squeezing your hand with a grin before letting go and walking a different direction without even letting you get a word in, or embraces that were too short and fucking weird, him sort of treating you like a best friend instead of his girlfriend as he barely pecked your forehead or cheeks or literally anywhere that wasn’t your lips.

you tried to tell yourself that he was just busy and probably had a lot on his mind, understanding completely that he had responsibilities to attend to for the day and feeling irritated at yourself for being a bit upset.

though you couldn’t help but wonder why this time it felt so… different.

because usually, even when yuta had things to do for the frat or events to cater to, he never once let you off on your own for too long, and he always showered you with affection and kisses that made your cheeks heat up and heart palpate into literal oblivion that you’d have to cup a hand over his mouth to get him to simmer down, a bashful silly sorry from him muffling against your palm in return.

and you realized then just how attached to your boyfriend you actually were… and way more than you initially thought.

you missed him.

the vice president glanced at you from over his shoulder and smiled, chuckling a bit as he finished up tending to the latest customer and closing the register.

“you okay?” he waved to someone in the crowd on the other side of the booth before turning back to you. “you look bothered. is it too hot?”

“oh! no i’m okay! thank you.” you shook your head, smiling politely.

he smirked.

“you miss yuta?”

your cheeks went pink and he burst out laughing, reaching to type a few things on the register’s touch screen.

“us selling cookies is one of our biggest fundraisers, and its where we make most of our money for the year so— yuta’s usually all over the place during it.”

you listened intently, nodding along as he breathed out tiredly through his nose and walked a bit away from the booth, sitting down on the chair next to yours.

“i don’t know how i’m gonna do this by myself next year man…” he mumbled with closed eyelids, tiredly crossing his arms. “yuta’s like a machine. i don’t know how he handles the guys and the frat and whatever else in between without crashing out like me.”

a sense of pride for your man bubbled up in your chest then, it always nice to hear the vice president or anyone for that matter speak highly of yuta and his abilities, the work he’d put into the fraternity for the majority of his college life so insane and admirable, that there was no doubt in your mind he’d leave behind a blueprint and had set the standards fucking high for the next presidents to come.

“are you applying to be president for next year?” you asked.

he snorted.

“fuck no. i could never fill yuta’s shoes.”

he peeked an eye open and you gave him a look, him laughing in response.

“what?”

“i’ve seen you handle the frat so well all of the time what are you on?”

“four cans of energy drinks.” he muttered. “and cookies from the batch of burnt scraps.”

you giggled, leaning back against the chair and looking on ahead— yuta in the middle of the grassy field surrounded by girls, members from other fraternities, and anything alike as you watched him converse and be silly with them all, a sweet smile on his face that you wished you could see up close for a bit, since he hadn’t stopped by the booth at all for the majority of the day and was instead working the field to bring in customers.

“i think you’re the most qualified out of anyone to take over yuta’s position next year.” you spoke gently. “so i hope you do apply.”

“i yell at the boys too much… yuta knows a good in between when needed.” his head lulled tiredly to the side. “and i don’t know if i’m gonna be able to handle the rejection if he says no.”

your jaw hung open, a bewildered look on your face.

“why would he say no? if anything it’s already yours—”

his head snapped in your direction.

“is it? how do you know? did he tell you? i feel like you’d know tell me right now—”

“tell you what?”

you straightened up upon hearing the familiar voice of your man and looked, a big smile stretching across your face once you saw yuta standing there on the other side of the booth, a cute half grin on his lips as he leaned against the table with palms on the surface.

“yu!”

“hi flower!” he beamed. “you okay?”

“uh huh!” you stood up, stepping closer to the table and leaning against it, mirroring him. “are you…?”

“i am!” he nodded, walking around the table and swinging an arm around your shoulders. “i’m exhausted though i don’t wanna talk to any more people i can’t do it.”

you giggled, little butterflies fluttering in your tummy at finally having him next to you and his attention for the time being.

“i feel like a walking corpse.” the vice president huffed out. “we can pack up early? we hit our goal in the afternoon i think we should send the boys back to the frat to set up for the after party.”

“sounds good!” yuta smiled, turning his head down to you. “you’re still going right? to the party?”

“mhm!” you nodded. “i just need to go home and get ready… do you need help setting up for it?”

“oh no flower that’s alright!” he squeezed your shoulder lovingly. “you’ve already done so much for me… just go get ready baby and call me so i can pick you up okay?”

“kay!” you cheesed, leaning up to give him a kiss when yuta suddenly turned his head to the side, your lips landing on his cheek instead.

what—

you pulled back, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face as you took a step forward and out of his arm around your shoulders, a growing ache in your chest over the fact that he’d been doing this all day.

did it look like you were going in for cheek kisses? or kisses that were anywhere but his mouth? it wasn’t— obvious?

maybe… maybe it was just you. 

maybe you were messing up again.

“thanks for making the poster by the way and helping out y/n.” the vice president mentioned, snapping you from your thoughts. “it looks so freaking good i don’t think we’ve ever had a banner look that great.”

you smiled brightly and nodded. “it’s okayyy! i hope i helped you guys out a little bit.”

“flower you did more than a little bit.” yuta laughed. “we sold so many cookies because i heard there was a pretty girl by the register… heh.”

a wave of heat rose to your cheeks and you playfully rolled your eyes, waving him off as you stepped away from the canopy tent.

“call me please when you’re ready!” yuta called out to you, you turning your body a bit and showing him a cute thumbs up before facing forward again, him and the vice president watching you walk across the busy field and towards the campus parking lot.

the vice president spoke up after a few seconds of silence.

“is it true?”

yuta’s gaze switched to his.

“what is?”

“that you’re cheating on y/n with layla.”

his face dropped, brows furrowing as yuta moved his body to look at him properly.

“you’ve heard the rumors too?”

he nodded.

“where?”

“everywhere.” the vice president responded plainly. “i hear them in class, out of class, in the student lounge, when i go take a piss—”

“from— from who?”

the borderline frantic desperation in yuta’s tone made the vice presidents gaze flicker to his, eyeing his solemn eagerness to know information that he regrettably couldn’t give concretely, but also eyeing his body language and expression to see if yuta was indeed guilty, or just a victim to annoying gossip once more.

except this time around… it was cruel. 

“it’s from multiple people that i don’t really know.” he sighed. “i just hear it floating around.”

yuta groaned and ran both hands down his face in exasperation, bitterly shaking his head while his mind ran rampant for the thousandth fucking time over the rumor of his supposed infidelity.

“so is it true?” the vice president repeated.

“no.” yuta spoke firmly, harshly. “no i would never do something like that to her. ever.”

there was another moment of silence.

“alright.” the vice president leaned back in his chair, his eyes tiredly closing again. “because it’d be a shame if you were… she’s a nice girl.”

“i know she is…” yuta mumbled, sluggishly walking over to the seat next to him and plopping down on it. “i’ve been trying to figure out who’s spreading that rumor but it’s fucking everywhere that i can’t figure it out. even toma asked me about it.”

the vice president snorted. “toma?”

“yeah.” yuta put his elbows down on his knees and leaned forward, an arm coming up to rest his cheek against the heel of his palm. “i told him if he could figure out who was doing it i’d consider lifting his probation.”

“huh?!”

yuta looked at him apologetically.

“i know… i hope it’s okay with you.” he dropped his arm and gazed on ahead. “i was only gonna lift a month off, and that’s even if he can find out who.”

“toma’s gonna stop at nothing to figure out who just because of that.” the vice president laughed. “it’s alright man... i’d do the same if i were you.”

yuta solemnly nodded.

“i’m scared of what she’s heard. i don’t want her to get hurt by any of it.”

“have you talked to her about it?”

he shook his head. “kind of… only generally but not specifically about the cheating rumor—”

“wha—” the vice president gawked. “that’s the one thing you should be talking to her about yuta she’s gonna hear it eventually—”

“but that’s the thing if— if she hasn’t yet i want it to stay that way…” he mumbled, head hanging low. “so i can try and get rid of it before it upsets her.”

“i don’t know if that thought process is a good idea or not.” the vice president spoke warily. “it kind of looks like you’re trying to cover up the fact that you are cheating—”

“i’m not—”

“then do something about it.”

the vice president stood up, arms raising up over his head to stretch and loosen up his tired limbs, them falling limp at his sides after. “talk to layla directly at the party tonight and find out if it’s her or not, then go from there.”

yuta’s brows pinched.

why the fuck didn’t he think of that sooner?

“i’ll ask around for you too.” the vice president swiped his backpack from the grass and shrugged it on, taking his jacket then from the back of the chair and tossing it lazily over his shoulder.

“but your best bet is toma.”

and the vice president was right.

because the minute yuta picked your stunning self up for the party later that day, utterly obsessed with the way you dolled up and him trying to take it all in for himself, his phone wouldn’t stop fucking buzzing inside the pocket of his pants and breaking his looney trance— him having to literally rip his eyes away from you and begrudgingly shove his hand around for his phone until he found it.

“who is it?” you laughed softly, buckling your seatbelt once you got in the car and reaching up to pull down his sun visor, sliding open the small vanity mirror and readjusting your hair a little.

yuta nearly drooled.

“oh! uh—”

he snapped his head down to see message after message pile in from toma, all of which were back to back and without a freaking break as they nearly blew up his phone, the nonstop vibration against his palm irritating him as he unlocked his device and went to toma’s contact.

toma: yo

toma: prez

toma: hello

toma: answer me right now

“it’s just toma.” he shook his head, thumbs prepping to type a response.

toma: HELLO

toma: YUTA

toma: ARE YOU IGNORING ME

toma: I BRING NEWS ABOUT YOUR CHEATING SCANDAL!

his eyes widened.

toma: LIFT MY PROBATION

yuta: say that again and i’m extending it

yuta: what did you find?

toma: wouldn’t you like to know ;)

toma: bet your girlfriend sure would!

toma: let me stay at the frat for the party and i’ll tell you

yuta: five months

toma: NO OKAY FUCK IM SORRY

toma: seriously though come to the house before i leave and i’ll tell you

toma: it’s too much to type and i’m lazy

“is he okay?” you asked kindly, sliding the mirror shut and closing the sun visor, turning your head to look at him.

“yeah he’s fine baby.” he looked up and smiled, leaning across the console to press a sweet kiss on your cheek, settling back in his seat and shifting the gear into reverse to pull out of your driveway. “you have everything?”

why wasn’t he kissing your mouth?

“mhm!” you nodded. “how many people did you guys invite?”

“it was an open invite.” he pushed the gear to drive and accelerated down your street back to his fraternity.

you scoffed in amazement.

“open invite?”

usually the parties yuta threw with his frat brothers were of select invite only, ones that consisted of anyone with any type of popularity alongside whoever they decided to bring also of status, you realizing that you were probably the only one there who didn’t have anything to their name in comparison to the others.

but with the invite now extending to absolutely anyone? and his parties already to begin with rowdy and insane?

you expected yuta’s frat house to turn into a shit show.

“what?” he laughed, turning his steering wheel to the left. “it’s a lot of people isn’t it?”

“you’re gonna have half of the student body in your house.”

he laughed again and shot you an apologetic look, him continuing to drive through the familiar avenues and paths that led up to his fraternity, when you quickly noticed the streets looked a bit more packed than usual— almost every single curb lined up with mass amounts of vehicles that were parked damn near back to back with no room left to even get out, you spotting small portions of dressed up crowds walking down the sidewalk the closer you got to his frat, already being peppy and noisy as they cackled and carried down packs of alcohol in their arms.

yuta had invited nearly the entire student body on purpose.

to find out who it was that was spreading that piece of shit rumor about his infidelity.

your boyfriend pulled into the driveway, your ears already picking up on the booming bass of the music inside as yuta flashed his lights at people who were in the way, him slowly inching through to get in the open garage as your eyes wildly scoured over the amount of students crossing the lawn or surrounding his car, empty red solo cups and trash littering the grass out front when the party had literally just started an hour ago.

there were so many people, more than you had ever seen at his previous parties.

yuta lifted an arm and pressed the small garage remote that was hooked above on his sun visor, the wide door loudly sliding shut in response as he drove in a little further before cutting off the ignition, him pulling his keys out and hooking the carabiner through one of his belt loops.

“you okay baby?” he smiled kindly, lifting his head to look at you and setting a hand down on his steering wheel. “i’m sorry about all the people… i know its a lot.”

you shook your head and gave him a cute grin, actively pushing down the fuzzy nerves that started to push up your throat for the sake of not being a burden, you not wanting to be annoying in the slightest about the crowds and just let yuta have fun, with this being his last fundraising after party and all.

“don’t be sorry yu its okay.” you reached across the console and took his hand, interlacing your fingers together. “you guys deserve to unwind like this after today right?”

he beamed and nodded, his grip tightening and eyes flickering down to your pretty little dress that made him swallow and quickly divert his gaze away, lips pursing to the side with pinky cheeks as he tried to get his head straight and remind himself over and over of the distance, of not playing into everybody’s stupid beliefs and hurting you.

but it was so fucking hard to when you were just so gorgeous to him, fondness creeping up in his chest then as he randomly thought of the night he first saw you at that one party he hosted a year ago— just as pretty if not more.

yuta was so unbelievably glad that you had rejected him then, for it woke his entire self up to the possibilities and beauty of actual genuine love rather than just quick fucks, the normalcy of meaningless hook ups something he had shamefully grown accustomed and desensitized to since high school.

your rejection had woken him up to you.

“yuta..?”

he blinked, eyes snapping back to you.

“yeah! yes flower?”

you giggled softly. “i asked if you wanted to go inside? i’m sure everyone’s been wanting to see you…”

he simply shrugged and brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it.

“but i wanna see you.”

you snorted. “you are seeing me silly… you see me everyday! hehe.”

and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. it was never enough.

yuta reached across the console with his unoccupied hand and ran his thumb over your precious cheek, his touch delicate as he silently looked at you with a little glimmer in his eye, taking in the sight of you before retracting his arm and smiling.

“stick to me the entire night please.” he squeezed your hand. “if at any point you get tired or a little nervous baby just let me know. we’ll go up to my room and call it, okay?”

your heart fluttered at how considerate and sweet he was, you nodding in response.

“mkay!”

you had never seen the frat look so full and feel so humid in your fucking life, you gripping tightly onto yuta’s hand as he led you through sweaty drunk bodies and narrow hallways, keeping close to him and trying to ignore the curious confused stares you got that eyed you both as you passed, shyly switching your gaze or turning your head altogether to evade it.

the stares weren’t anything new to you, as practically with every event or party yuta threw you received them without fail, the act a given at this point as no one seemed to ever remember your face or what you looked like no matter how long you had been around yuta already, you actually preferring it that way as it allowed you to be on campus without any weird instances from random individuals asking about your relationship with him.

yuta periodically looked over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still there and okay, his head turning back ahead and scanning every single fucking face he saw in the hopes of recognizing the vice president, or better yet— toma, him desperate to find him and get as much information as he possibly could to put an end to that horrific rumor before it got to you.

“okkotsu! heeey man! how’s it going?—”

you’d lost count of how many people had come up to your boyfriend to greet him or pat him on the shoulders, you next to him through it all and not minding one bit as you kept your fingers interlocked with his— your other hand clutching at his bicep while he mingled and charmingly laughed with his crowd, some even greeting you as you surprisedly reciprocated and shyly replied back, each time yuta caressing your knuckles reassuringly with his thumb— encouraging you, a kind look to his face that eased your nerves like nothing else ever did.

“you still doing okay flower?!” he yelled over the thumping music, pulling you to a little corner by the kitchen and leading you to stand against the wall, him shielding you from the crowd as he turned his back and faced you. “you feeling tired?!”

you shook your head no and sweetly grinned at him. “i’m good yu!”

he smiled and nodded, setting a hand on top of your head and giving it a gentle rub, careful of not messing with your prettily styled hair too much.

“you want anything to drink?!” he looked up and craned his neck around the wall to scope out the kitchen. “i bought a pack of sunny d and had one of the boys put it in the fridge for you!—”

“yo! okkotsu!”

yuta snapped his head over his shoulder, your own eyes peering around your man’s frame to see one of his frat brothers standing just a few feet away, pointing out into the crowd behind him with his thumb.

“toma’s still here! he’s looking for you!”

your brow quirked a little at the way yuta instantaneously straightened up and turned out a little more, wondering why toma’s presence elicited that reaction from him as his hand went from your head down along your arm, his thumb reaching your fingertips and lightly grazing over them.

“where is he?!” he asked over the music.

“out front on the porch! he’s getting ready to leave!”

yuta raised his other palm and thanked him before quickly turning back to you.

“i’m gonna go see what he wants okay flower?” he hurriedly kissed your forehead, you a bit perplexed at his urgency as you hesitantly nodded along.

“let me look for the VP really quick so you won’t be alone—”

“no yu its okay!” you let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “go baby ill just wait here until you get back.”

he held your gaze for a moment, apprehensive.

“i— i don’t know flower!” he looked over his shoulder again, angling his body around and sweeping the crowd with anxious little eyes, turning back around to you. “i don’t wanna leave you by yourself i’d rather have someone with you—”

“yu.” you pushed gently. “it’s fine. i won’t move from here ill be in the kitchen waiting for you… okay? go baby go see what toma wants.”

yuta’s pupils were swimming in worry as he stared, feet planted on the floor and hesitant to move as he thought about the millions of things people could say or do to you while he was gone, him gnawing at the bottom of his lip as he continued to anxiously caress over your fingertips.

“o—okay—”

“okkotsu here!—”

both of your heads snapped to the right and saw the vice president, his face flushed red and goofy like as he extended a beer bottle out to yuta.

“why are you empty handed—”

“oh thank god!” yuta breathed out, taking the bottle from his awaiting hand and pulling him in with an arm for a heavy pat on the back, the VP drunkenly quirking a brow and blinking.

“what i do—”

“can you stay with y/n for like— ten minutes?” he quickly ushered. “i just gotta talk to toma really quick!”

“toma?!” the vice president spat. “the fucks he still doing here he’s supposed to be out of the house—”

“he will be once i talk to him!” your boyfriend replied by his ear. “but can you please just be with y/n for a few? I don’t wanna leave her by herself!”

the vice presidents gaze switched to where you were standing then, seemingly just noticing that you were there as his eyes lit up and he nodded, a friendly big smile growing on his face that you responded with a bashful timid one of your own.

“okay great! thanks man!—”

yuta took a few steps towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in snug and craning down a bit to rest the side of his head against yours.

“i’ll be back okay?” he spoke in your ear.

“o—okay but— you really didn’t have to get the VP to babysit me—”

“no i know baby i’m sorry.” he ran a soothing palm down your back. “but i worry...”

he peeled away from you and pouted. “but just hang tight alright? stick to him.”

you sighed a little through your nose and nodded, you going on your tippy toes then with puckering lips to give him an obvious goodbye smooch, when yuta turned his head again and made your kiss land on his cheek instead.

it looked like he had rejected you.

and yuta failed to see the hurt flash across your face once more as he stepped off to the side and turned, slipping his way through the crowd and basically get swallowed whole by the mass of it, you quickly losing sight of him as your shoulders drooped a little in disappointment.

what were you doing that was so wrong? usually yuta never went more than literally thirty minutes without a kiss from you… but so far he had broken his own record and went the entire day.

what was so wrong with you?

“y/n! do you want a sunny d?”

you jumped a little and turned, seeing the vice president in the kitchen now rummaging through the fridge, a small singular giggle slipping past your lips as you watched him struggle to even get his arms through, him shoving hoards of beer cans and alcohol packs off to the sides just to get his hands in the back.

“i’m pretty sure— fuck— one of the guys put a pack in for you—”

you walked over and carefully crouched down next to him by the fridge, peeking your head in and trying to spot the familiar orange liquidy bottles, more giggles tumbling out as you realized that the sunny d pack was quite literally right in front of the vice presidents face— front and center amongst the mountains of alcohol and trash.

“wait— hehe— i think—” you pointed through your little snickers. “i think it’s right there— oh!”

your arms shot out and you quickly grabbed onto his shoulders just as he was swaying off a little too much to the side, stabilizing him as he cackled and shook his head, his own hands fumbling for the edges of the fridge and gripping them.

“sorry! sorry i’m drinking my sorrows away so i’m drunk also here—”

he loopily pushed a bottle of sunny d in your arms, you scrambling slightly to retrieve it before it dropped to the ground from your hands, the both of you standing from your crouched position.

“thank you.” you smiled sweetly, your brows furrowing a little then. “why are you drinking your sorrows away?”

“because yuta’s graduating and i’m gonna have to deal with this shit on my own.” he swiped an open beer bottle from a nearby counter and took a swig. “he told me just before the party that i’m— hic!— president for next year—”

you gasped, eyes blowing fucking wide as you slapped a hand over your mouth in shock.

“oh my god!” you grinned. “congratulations! you should be so proud!—”

“i should be dead.” he muttered, dramatically drooping his upper body over the kitchen island and sulking. “i’m a dead man. after the fundraiser toma ran around the house naked which then turned into everyone running around the house naked and i couldn’t get anybody to put their fucking clothes on—”

“you—”

“i’ve never seen so many dicks in my life i didn’t even want to see any of their dicks—”

“hold on—”

“whatever happened to asking first? to consent?— OH GOD!—”

the VP sprang off the counter, spun in your direction and grabbed at your shoulders, you stiffening with big eyes as he shook you.

“you’re graduating too! what am i gonna do without you and your calligraphy?! the— the banners?!” his gaze darted over your face as he looked at you crazed and in a state of utter psychosis. “i don’t know any girls! just you by default! i’m gonna have to do bake sales with toma’s stupid fucking stick figures—”

you’d given up in trying to bring the vice president down from his erratic panicked high, deciding the best thing to do then was to just keep your mouth shut and let him ramble on his drunken worries and fears as he shook you, you laughing through it and lightly patting him on the back in comfort, knowing that deep down the VP was elated to have been granted a position so prestigious and accomplishing as you’d heard him wish on it ever since you’d met him, his emotional meltdown just a given and something that came with accepting a position as demanding as yuta’s.

he would be filling shoes that were seemingly impossible to do so in the first place… but you were more than sure that he was the one man that was actually more than qualified for it out of the flock.

and you’d wondered then as the vice president continued to shake you, if yuta had successfully sought out what toma wanted and if he was making his way back over to you sometime soon…

he wished.

“i need names toma names!”

“i tried!” toma flailed his arms out. “i swear to god i tried! but how do you think it looks when i try to come up to layla’s posse and chat them up?! they chewed me out every time i tried!”

he had a point…

“the only info i could get was that it’s her minions who are spreading the rumor.”

yuta’s gaze moved to his, arms crossed as the two of them stood in the middle of the front porch, the area thankfully deserted as the majority of students were inside.

he suspiciously eyed him. “how do you know that?”

“i stood outside the girl’s restroom by the east wing for an hour.” toma replied plainly. “god knows what the hell they were doing in there but— some of her friends were talking nonstop about it.”

yuta snorted, a palm cupping over his mouth as he thought about how much of an idiot creep toma must’ve looked standing outside of the girl's restroom like that.

he had initially planned to confront layla directly, but learning now that it may have not even been her that was at fault, made him feel a little bad and apprehensive about accusing her out of nowhere inside…

he dropped his hand and nodded. “and— and what about layla? is she spreading anything?”

toma shrugged. “dunno. didn’t get that far because i got yelled at.”

yuta laughed and shook his head, raising an arm to pat a heavy hand on toma’s shoulder in gratitude.

“alright, thanks man.” he smiled. “i’ll lift a month off your probation.”

“a month?!” toma gawked. “i thought you said the whole thing!”

“you barely gave me anything idiot.” yuta bent down and picked up his beer bottle from the ground. “you’re lucky i’m even lifting time off otherwise i would’ve added—”

“NO!” toma screamed in absolute terror, hands latching out to desperately clutch at his shirt. “i’m sorry thank you mister president...”

“okay.” he chuckled boyishly. “now go before the VP sees you—”

“i love you mister president—”

“go.”

“say hi to your pretty girl for me—”

“five months probation—”

“NO!”

you’d lost track of how long it had been since yuta left, as you were too preoccupied babysitting the VP— trying to keep him from blacking out and stay on his two feet as he swayed about the kitchen, blubbering about his position next year and then randomly switching from time to time to some girly he had a crush on in his economics class, your heart warming every time he spoke about her cutesy smile, but most of all genuinely worried about him as he almost nearly tipped over one of the keg stands in trying to perform a cartwheel in the middle of the kitchen.

if yuta saw the way that he was when he was supposed to be looking out for you… you figured your boyfriend wouldn’t be to happy with it— the biggest fear you’ve had yet quickly brewing in your chest over the vice president getting his up-and-coming position revoked.

“hey! let’s drink some water yeah?”

the VP whipped his head up, him funnily crouched in a corner and hugging his knees to his chest.

“is this what its like?”

you tilted your head as you opened the fridge, your eyes frantically scouring for a bottle of water and grabbing it once you spotted one, closing it back up and walking over to his sniffling self.

“what is?” you softly asked as you crouched to his level, uncapping the water bottle and offering it out to him.

“to have a girl give a shit about you?”

you giggled, shaking your head side to side as you watched him gratefully take the drink from your hands, chugging it down.

“just talk to her… i’m sure she’d love to go out with you!” you tried to reason. “you never know unless you just— try.”

his puffed out cheeks made you laugh again as he swallowed. “y/n you don’t get it i’m a loser she could never look my way—”

you playfully rolled your eyes. “you’re vice president of a frat. next year president. if that doesn’t get her i don’t know what will.”

he miserably shook his head and hung it.

“the difference is i’m ugly. yuta’s handsome. my boy has no trouble at all—”

“you’re not ugly—”

“layla! have you spoken to yuta tonight at all?”

you stilled, your face falling a bit as you kept your eyes on the VP, him still too drunk and teary to realize there were people in the kitchen now, you grateful that the both of you were out of sight in a tiny little corner so you could take a listen without them noticing.

“no.” she heavily sighed. “i haven’t seen him much at all actually… shame.”

you heard shuffling and the clinking of glass as you eavesdropped, praying that the vice president didn’t blabber out anything else and spoil your cover.

“i did.” a different voice spoke. “he’s with his girlfriend that’s why.”

you heard an exaggerated gasp from somewhere else.

“you saw her? what’d she look like?!”

“i couldn’t really see she was a bit far… but she is here with him.”

“geez, i’m surprised he’d even bring her around after just being with you layla. that’s embarrassing.”

your heart dropped.

“that’s their business not mine.” another spoke, you recognizing it to be layla’s voice again. “if he wants to humiliate her like that, that’s on him.”

… what?

the vice president stirred, about to open his big fat mouth when you sprung out and muffled him, his dazed little eyes confusedly looking at you.

“you’re so lucky though layla!” one gushed. “no one has been able to sleep with him lately except you.”

maybe… maybe the reason why yuta never initiated anything with you, the reason why he evaded your kisses and flat out treated you sometimes like you weren’t his literal girlfriend—

was because he was getting his fill somewhere else.

and somehow through your mental storm, the vice president realized that there were people in the kitchen now, but not just any people… but exactly who and what they were talking about, his own eyes blowing wide in panic.

the girls continued to chat as your hand slid away from the VP’s mouth, your gaze casted downward as you made an attempt to stand, when his hand suddenly shot out and grabbed yours.

“y/n—” he fought with everything in him to push down the alcohol for two fucking seconds and get his head straight. “where are you going—”

“i’m just gonna go find yuta… okay?”

your voice sounded it’s usual sweet and collected, but it was your body language that completely gave it away to him that you were not okay in the slightest.

“wait— just stay for a bit don’t— don’t listen—”

“stay here i’ll be back.” you mumbled, shaking his hand off and standing upright. “don’t try to stand please you’ll fall.”

“sweetheart whatever you heard it’s not true alright? you know that yuta would never—”

your mind wasn’t even registering what the vice president was saying at this point, you feeling your heart actively shattering in your chest as you made your way through the kitchen, passing by the group of girls and guessing that the one in the middle was layla— stunning and breathtaking and everything you’d expect yuta to hook up with and choose over you.

they didn’t even spare you a glance as you walked past them and out of the kitchen, weaving your way through the waves of sweaty people as you tried to spot yuta— you having no idea where he was and just going by the piece of information you had learned earlier of toma being out on the front porch, hoping that he somehow was still there as you squeezed through bodies, the air still humid and suffocating and it for some reason making your chest ache even more.

you wrongfully felt like you had to prove a point… like you were just as capable of being the embodiment of someone like layla that earned a rightful spot at being yuta’s girlfriend, something he not once ever made you question and yet— you shamefully succumbing up to the beliefs of his crowd no matter how many times you told yourself it wouldn’t happen.

you could only take so much… and the thought of losing yuta shook you like nothing else.

it made you desperate.

just as you practically shoved your way out of the main area to get to the front door, you spotted yuta— sitting on a short random stool by the entrance with a half drunken beer bottle in hand, cheerfully conversing with a few of his brothers with that same charismatic smile and attitude that swooned millions, you swallowing the lump in your throat as you hugged yourself and slowly walked over.

“yu..?”

your familiar quiet voice made him stop talking and snap his head in your direction, him straightening up as he sent you a kind smile.

as soon as he went back inside after speaking to toma, yuta got caught up with a few of his frat members in regards to details about upcoming events, kicking himself over the fact that he didn’t realize how long he was actually gone for as he noticed how upset you looked right now, wondering where the hell the VP was.

“hi pretty flower!” he grinned, faltering when you didn’t smile back at all.

“can we—” you stammered. “um—”

yuta extended an offering hand out, you hesitating for a moment before you decided to just take it, him gently pulling you in to stand in between his legs and moving that same hand to cup over the back of your thigh.

you hated that his touch sort of… stung.

“sorry baby i couldn’t hear you.” he gently spoke, looking up at you with such sweet eyes that it nearly made you want to forget what you’d heard in the kitchen. “what’s wrong? i’m sorry i was gone for so long i got caught up with some of the guys.”

“n—no its okay.” you weakly smiled, and his brows furrowed at that, his hand beginning to caress over the back of your thigh.

had something happened while he was away?

“i need to um… talk to you in your room upstairs.” you shyly pursed your lips to the side. “if that’s okay…”

oh!

he reached up and took your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger, bringing your face down to plant a little kiss to your cheek.

“it’s always okay flower.” he beamed, standing and taking your hand in his as he took a swig of his beer. “you wanna retire for the night?”

not exactly.

but you nodded, him then immediately bidding some of his brothers goodbye while he tugged on your hand and led you upstairs, your head facing the ground and anxious as you both walked through the hallways of the frat house and away from the noise, eventually arriving at yuta’s door as you chewed the shit out of your bottom lip, him pushing down his lever door handle and opening it.

“you feeling a little tired?” he asked gently, closing the door behind him as you both stepped inside, facing you after. “we can call it a nigh—”

you fisted yuta’s shirt and yanked him down, cutting him off with your mouth on his as his eyes flew open, your raunchy little kisses feeling awfully familiar to that one night he was over and almost stripped you naked over them, already catching himself getting dangerously close to that again as he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped at your delicious waist.

stop stop stop—

but he couldn’t bring himself to put an end to it as he deepened the kiss, your heart fluttering at that as you led him to his bed through your sloppy make out, moving about until the back of his legs hit the edge of his mattress and he plopped down, you instantly climbing onto his lap and straddling him.

yuta felt like he was about to die over the overwhelming feeling of you perched pretty on his lap, or the way the straps of your tiny dress loosened and fell erotically over your bare shoulders— revealing a little more cleavage to him that took everything he had not to flip you on the bed and stuff his face in there.

he had to stop this… he needed to stop this to avoid losing you like everybody wanted him to, like everybody expected him to.

at the feeling of you taking his hand from your waist and sliding it down your godly body to cup your ass, yuta’s eyes snapped open and he forced his lips off yours, the both of you staring at each other in alarm with heaving breaths.

“wh— what yu?” you spoke breathlessly, you dazedly leaning in again to continue smooching when he literally dodged your lips and moved his head back, like— like you were just some random that tried to kiss him.

that was your final straw.

you sat there frozen and heartbroken as he shakily grabbed your hips and carefully sat you down on the bed next to him, him standing and wincing at the feeling of his hard dick being choked out by his jeans as he tried to block out the sight of you on his lap like that.

“man i’m so tired heh!” he began. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower—”

the sound of you suddenly sobbing made him whip his head down to you, his face utterly falling once he saw your trembling shoulders-- crying into your hands as broken hiccups and whimpers filled the air.

holy shit.

“baby? baby what’s wrong—” he quickly bent down and cupped your cheeks, his heart dropping to his ass when you practically ripped his hands off you through your tears, sniffling as you scooched back on his bed to get away from him.

oh god.

had you— had you heard the rumor?

“oh my god.” he breathed out. “you heard didn’t you? the— the rumor about layla—”

you sobbed harder at the mention of her name, and yuta’s fingers flew to dig inside the strands of his hair.

“flower i swear to god—” his chest grew erratic as he was one hundred percent convinced you were about to end things with him. “with everything i have that it’s not true—”

he dropped his arms and desperately dug around the pockets of his jeans, pulling out his phone once he found it.

“here!” he shakily unlocked it and tossed it on the bed in front of you. “here baby here please take it there’s nothing in there that—”

but you only slowly shook your head and continued to cry in your little hands, yuta feeling like he was about to lose it.

“no?” he breathed out. “why not? why—”

he frantically shoved his hands in his jeans again and pulled out his car keys, tossing it out in front of you as well as his wallet and anything else he could find in there that he thought would somehow help you believe him.

“here my— my keys are there and— and my wallet please look at them and please don’t cry—”

yuta reached out again for you, his trembling hands just barely cupping over your upper arms when you tore yourself away from him again, each time you did that making it feel like his skin was on fucking fire, burning and blistering and stinging with every hiccup that slipped past your lips.

he’d done what he was terrified of doing all this time.

he’d fucked things up with you.

“baby please don’t break up with me—” his voice cracked as he spoke, him sinking down on his knees with arms over the bed. “please i don’t know— i don’t know if i can take that i—”

“why don’t you want me?”

he froze, the little quiver in your voice absolutely shattering his heart.

“what?—”

“you never— you never touch me you never initiate anything with me—”

“flower—”

“you don’t even fucking kiss me anymore yuta…” you sobbed, wiping at your flooding tears as you sniffled. “and then— i’m in the kitchen with the VP and layla is in there talking about how you sleep with her and—”

he stood, grabbed your upper arms and held you still over your squirming and nudging to push him away, keeping you in place with wild eyes as he forced you to look at him.

“i would never in a million fucking years cheat on you y/n.” he seriously pushed. “never. everything that her and her friends are saying is fake i even— i even got toma to spy on them so i could figure it out—”

“you still don’t get it!” you sobbed. “the issue is you’ve never wanted me like you’ve wanted layla—”

“what the fuck?” he spoke incredulously. “baby i’ve never wanted that girl—”

“then why don’t you ever do anything with me?! or— or want me—”

you realized then how silly you sounded, embarrassment quickly washing over your system as you looked down and diverted your gaze with pinky cheeks, quieting down with your sniffles.

yuta’s eyes softened then, the dots clicking in his stupid pea sized brain over what you meant, the ache in his chest only growing in mass at the realization that whatever idiotic fucking plan he had about not hurting you, about enlisting distance and avoiding being affectionate with you to prove a point to everybody else, was utterly and entirely wrong.

of course it was wrong… how could he ever think that it wasn’t? how could he ever think that you’d respond positively to it or— or be okay with it?

if you ever did what he had done, he would absolutely die inside— hating himself for letting the speculations of others get in the way of his relationship with you.

his hands slowly slid up from your arms to your cheeks— gently cupping them and wiping your tears with his thumbs as you trembled.

“you have no idea how badly i’ve wanted to do things with you—”

“you’re lying!—”

“no!” he lowered his hands and wrapped you up tight in his arms, stuffing his nose into your neck. “i want you baby i want you so bad i go fucking nuts—”

how could he have neglected his girl and her precious little needs for this long..?

you continued to sniffle and shake in his arms, trying to steady your breathing as he then leisurely let you go, you too preoccupied in your thoughts of regret and ashamed at yourself for being a brat, that you failed to notice the way yuta was unbuckling his belt until you heard the tiny metal clasp clang, his face still in your neck.

“m’sorry pretty flower…” he murmured, your teary eyes widening at him slowly tugging and sliding his belt through the loops of his jeans. “i haven’t been taking care of you have i..?”

“yu—yuta—”

he planted a knee on the bed and crawled on, his upper body coming onto you and giving you no choice but to go down with him— you softly landing on your back and frozen in place with a palpating heart, him in between your thighs.

“i’ve never wanted to fuck a girl so bad in my life.” he hotly breathed out in your neck. “since we met baby…”

he picked his head up and casted his gaze down, placing his palms on either sides of your plushy thighs and sliding up your dress, further and further until it pooled around your waist and revealed your god forsaken pinky panties— see through and showing him your pretty glistening lips that made him suck in a breath and groan.

“i don’t give a shit about layla.” yuta hooked an index finger in the underside of your panties and pulled it to the side, taking a pervy peek at your pussy in the flesh. “i don’t give a shit about this stupid frat or anyone but you.”

butterflies swarmed wildly in your tummy as you watched him pop open the button of his jeans with his other hand, tugging it a little down along with his boxers until his cock literally jumped out, your words caught in your throat as you drank in the sight of him giving it a slow yummy pump, his tip already leaky and red.

“i’ve been ignoring my pretty girl and not fucking her like she deserves…” he murmured, the sudden feeling of his tip running up and down your gaping cunt making you squeak, you quickly gnawing on your bottom lip after and trying so hard to bite back your moans out of embarrassment, but it nearly impossible with the way he kept teasingly rubbing his dick over your swollen clit over and over.

“i’m sorry flower—” he positioned himself. “but i’m too impatient to take off anything else okay?”

you blinked up at him, yuta looking directly at you and fucking possessed by your gorgeous face and your gorgeous body and your gorgeous pussy, his chest heaving as he tried his best not to just throw you around and shove his cock inside.

“o—okay—”

he lined his dick up with your hole. “and m’not using a condom.”

your walls clenched at him saying that, him hovering over you as he took your wrists and set both of your hands on his shoulders before moving an arm down, pulling your panties out to the side even more.

“mkay?”

he absolutely refused to use a condom— another obvious factor that set you apart from his previous hookups, something your silly little mind shouldn’t have even compared yourself to in the first place.

why fucking would he if he’d decided the moment he saw you he would never let you go? never let you out of his sight?

you frantically nodded, your hands clutching at his shoulders then as you eagerly opened your legs a little wider for him, yuta losing it at that and shooting you a wild horny grin.

“good job baby…”

he placed both hands on your soft hips and slowly eased himself in your slippery little cunt, you immediately gasping at the sudden yummy unfamiliar stretch and tightening your grip on his shirt, a whimper escaping your throat as you attempted to loosen your hole and let him in.

“i know flower i know—”

yuta was aware that he had to go easy and gentle with you, that you (thankfully) weren’t used to cock in general… but he nonetheless found that he had to physically restrain his hips from pistoning inside you and making you cry on his dick, something he’d thought about for what felt like ages now.

your little moans and mewls spurred him on as he carefully pumped inside you, his head thrown back with a wide-open mouth and closed eyelids, practically drooling as he got off to the sound of your squelching pussy sucking him in, the mattress rocking underneath you both.

“you— you okay baby?” he lulled his head down to look at you, struggling to even keep his eyes open as he kneaded at your hips and fucked you.

“mhm!” you nodded, your sultry sparkling eyes peering up at him so sweetly that he nearly busted inside of you. “but— mm!— yu—”

“what happened baby..?”

“wanna— wanna go on top—”

yuta swore he saw the heavens then, the grip he had on your hips tightening as he held your gaze with desperate eyes, unbelieving of the privilege he was about to experience as he without another word pulled out and flipped you both over, you letting out a tiny squeal mixed giggle as he excitedly settled beneath you.

“tell me how okay?” you softly spoke, and he quickly nodded, placing a sweaty palm on your torso and carefully guiding your hole to his tip again, you holding the base of his cock as you tried to contribute and line it up, yuta assisting you by stretching your panties to the side out of the way with his free hand.

“just— sink down on it pretty flower—” he panted, you listening and slowly letting your pussy engulf his puffy tip again.

“like— like this?—”

yuta licked his lips and nodded, him unable to fucking speak as his hands found yours and interlaced them, his heart pounding and head reeling in euphoria as you started gradually lifting your hips and submerging him inside of you— your cute little self whining and bouncing so cute on it.

“gooood baby good.” he heaved. “just— god just like that please—”

your pace quickened and his jaw dropped, you absolutely lost in the feeling of him stuffing you so full as you felt his warm cum already leaking outside of your hole— sticky skin slapping together and yuta’s moaning and groaning only growing louder by the second.

“am i— hic!— am i doing okay?”

“jesus more than okay—” he took you by surprise and snapped his hips up, your tits nearly spilling over your dress at the force as he started thrusting into you at a rapid pace, you crying out as you tightened your interlocked hands and squeezed your eyes shut over the pleasure, already feeling your orgasm itching itself into your system and tickling at your swollen clit.

"f— fuuuck yu—" you gasped, your pretty moans going directly in his ears making him fucking shudder and mess up the rhythm he had going for a split second, never in his life hearing something so sugary and sacred.

"m'so fuuuull—"

"yeah?" yuta wildly smiled as he pounded, loving that he was the one that got to stuff you full of his cock and snatch you up before any other stupid man got to, your red plump lips and pinky cheeks that read nothing but an expression of being fucked out spurring him on so much that he nearly choked, wanting to be the absolute only one that ever got to see you this way.

"you're being so fuckin good for me baby—"

never in yuta okkotsu’s career of being a former man whore did he ever cum this quickly into sex.

but the sight of you pretty and angelic on his cock, bouncing through his pounding and whimpering your little heart out while he watched you literally squirt over his dick as you finished, his head struggling to register that he was finally fucking you full on his bed after all this time—

was the perfect explanation as to why he broke his own record.

yuta let go of your hands and lunged himself at you, wrapping his arms around your torso and yanking you down to lay on top of him, the cage he had around you locked tight as he shoved his nose into your hair and drilled his hips up to fuck you faster, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at his ruthless speed.

“m’gonna cum.” he choked out. “o—okay?”

“fuck! yes yes yes—”

“inside.”

“yes yu please please!—”

at the sound of you begging for him he released, shooting his heavy stringy load through your gummy hot walls as he loudly groaned into your neck, both of you gasping and heaving for air as he stilled his hips and let his balls completely drain inside, him holding you like his life utterly depended on it.

eventually yuta slightly loosened his hold and moved you up a little to slide his dick out, the air steamy and humid as you both panted and swallowed— trying to catch your breaths and come down from the blissful horny mess the two of you just participated in.

yuta slid a hand up to hold the back of your head, him turning his to press tiny little kisses to the side of your forehead, waiting and basking in the tender moment you just shared before speaking.

“i’m sorry i haven’t been paying attention to you flower…” he spoke gently. “i let what the rumors were saying get into my head and i—”

he struggled for a bit, you carefully pulling back to look at him properly and pouting over the guilty expression on his face.

“i wanted everybody to stop saying and thinking that i was just using you for a fuck.” he mumbled. “and i was trying to prove it to you too so… i thought it was best if i stayed away like a fucking idiot.”

you giggled softly and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, him blushing at that.

“you’re so silly yu...” you kindly smiled. “you’ve never needed to prove anything to me. ever… you know that.”

“i know but— everyone was saying so much shit and i got scared that it’d make you upset and it did—”

“yuta i’m dating you not them.” you gently emphasized, your hand coming up to card through his raven locks. “i couldn’t care less about what they have to say… but if you start letting it get into your head like that yu, its gonna bleed onto us and affect us. okay?”

he solemnly nodded, eyes looking up at you in shame.

“so don’t let it.” a gorgeous smile grew on your lips then. “i’ve always believed in you yuta… i don’t need anybody else’s two cents to know that, much less if they’re saying the awful things they’re saying now. they’re stinky for that.”

yuta laughed and gave you a kiss, wholeheartedly agreeing.

"i love you pretty girl."

and he believed in you.

from the moment he met you in his kitchen, from the moment your shy pretty voice rejected him in the sweetest way possible, from the moment he started working his ass off to win you over for a solid year straight— yuta believed in you.

in the both of you— in what you could purely grow and create despite the two of you being born and raised on complete opposites of the social wheel, defying the idiotic supposed laws of society and finding love in the most unlikely circumstances.

the chances of life bringing you together was one in a million, and yuta was grateful to have landed in it despite everything, for he couldn’t imagine a life where he wasn’t your man and took you on frequent trips to the aquarium, visiting a silly little penguin who wanted his girl just as much as he did, and eating lunch with you in the loveliest of flower gardens that withheld the nickname he had for you so fittingly.

his reputation upon graduating was no longer of a sleazy good for nothing piece of shit who whored around, but of yuta okkotsu— president of his frat who reigned for three years straight, the most popular guy to ever fucking exist, the only one who ever managed to throw massive parties every week…

but of also a guy who simply loved his girlfriend.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@softbun0 @the-lazyyy-artist @cheeyah @ag-zio @luvvmae @blue-musingss @as1yasss @oporotheca @aqkermxan @cookey-lock @startwithrecords @mayacheiko @ackermanrage @pocoom @nervousshinnie @beekaboi @vickylovesochako @iloveoldermenn @uhnosav @jvpit3rr @monchxriella @slr3v @kissesazula @hqnge @featheryvee @allurearia @haokanie @wwwbriworld @aksqui @dee-writes-anime @floruilaa @skittleluverr @qwicksilver @getosangels @childesblanket @almostdelightfuldragon @spidergirlnr1 @naammiii @evelynxxo @hiithess @sophiejiro @l1v1ngzomb1e @aronkiepronkie @tori8760 @bbatzvil @jameinfrau @eva-616 @kokoiinuts @when-worlds-end @typicalkhani

[mrsblaileen]

Naoya Zenin gets a taste of his own medicine.

fem!reader, dubcon, femdom, tentacles, revenge/hate fucking, misogyny, facial and cock slapping, sub!naoya, pussydrunk!naoya, forced orgasm, anal, riding, handjobs, face riding, restraints, misogyny, verbal degradation, non-consensual bondage, forced creampie (baby trapping?), degradation kink, breeding kink. nsfw 18+ mdni.

✎ Words: 3.6k | Ao3 | Masterlist

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“You pathetic bitc-”

The slap rang out into the room like the crash of a gong, and the silence that followed was broken only by your own scoffed chuckle and the mildly shocked sound that slipped from Naoya Zenin’s parted lips.

“That’s exactly the kind of language that got you here in the first place, Zenin.”

Below you, the titular man was splayed on a bare tatami - half collapsed on the floor, half pressed up against the wall, and seething like a caged animal. His perfectly folded robes askew, arms tugged behind him in a wild flay of fabric, twitching muscles held in place by your technique - a binding curse even the prince of the Zenin clan couldn’t seem to break.

“I’ll cut your hands off for that.” He snarled, and you took a selfish moment to appreciate the way his angled cheekbone was turning red in the wake of your palm, chestnut eye beginning to water.

“Hmm.” You scoffed and leaned forward to snatch his chin between your fingers, gripping tight enough that his nose twitched, and your lips tugged into a smile at the sight of his raw discomfort. “Big talk for someone trapped like a pitiful little bug in a web.”

Naoya tugged his chin furiously from your grasp, head snapped to the side as he fixed you with a gaze so cutting it’s a wonder you didn’t feel it slice your skin.

“If you think your pathetic little technique will hold me for much longer, you really are as dumb as you look.” He spat, rioting against the thick tendrils looped tight as iron around his biceps.

“I think it’s you who’s truly pathetic, Naoya.” You replied smoothly. “One little promise of some pussy from a sweet little maid and you end up like this? Sad.”

You couldn’t help but rub it in just a little. The cat was finally out of the bag, the secret you’d been keeping under wraps for the last six months revealed. Gone were your days slaving away as one of the Zenin clan servants.

You weren’t stupid, from the very first day you had arrived at the Zenin temple you had seen the way he’d looked at you. Hazel eyes roaming over your clothed body greedily, unashamedly so - like he could peel your maids uniform off with his eyes and take you right there on the entryway floor without consequence. You were only thankful that his piggish mindset shielded your true intent. He saw only the sweet curve of your waist and the way the folds of your kimono wrapped tight over your plump chest, not the burning hatred simmering behind each tight lipped smile.

Even so, it turned your stomach. Each sleazy look you met with cool temperance, each respectful bow of your head, each pinch from his wayward fingers as you bent over scrubbing laundry made your insides boil hot with rage and repulsion alike. But for all your disgust, still, you could have cried for your sheer luck. Such an opportunity wouldn’t present itself again - a rare chance to get close to the Zenin heir.

And so you’d laid patiently in waiting, making sure to keep your cursed energy simmering and dormant. Camouflaged amongst the plethora of stronger sorcerers, you waited for the fateful time to strike.

It was that very afternoon that Naoya had returned from a mission, chest puffed proudly and still riding the high of a win, he had called you to his private chambers. And when you’d heard the hushed whispers from the other maids, and the tinkle of the little servants bell you’d known - it was finally time.

A teasing hand slipped beneath his collar, nails tracing his skin. The brush of your lips over his ear. A simple sultry whisper and the curl of your beckoning finger and here he was, ensnared beneath you - tied up like a long awaited gift.

“You know, you never asked about my technique.” You mused, tilting your head as you watched him squirm beneath you, anger rolling from him in heated palpable waves.

Your technique was not notably powerful by any means - an all around defensive technique designed to get you out of a desperate situation by immobilising an enemy. But in certain situations it had its more refined applications, and close combat was where it truly shined.

“Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be in this situation, hm?”

“I don’t really give a shit about the fine points of your weak ass technique.” He rolled his eyes in a pointed scowl. “Just release it already sweets, promise I’ll make your punishment quick if you do it now.”

“You know it’s not just a binding technique.” You continued smoothly, ignoring his honeyed demands. “It has other applications too.”

As you spoke, a multitude of tendrils poked out from the others still bound tight around his arms. They coiled and slid along either side of his neck like crowding tree roots. Tendrils pressed against his skin and trailed down, parting the fabric of his silky robes until you could see his broad chest laid bare and heaving with barely concealed fury.

Naoya fixed you with that same fiery glare, but you didn’t miss the way his brow twitched, betraying a tiny flicker of nerves in his otherwise steeled disposition.

You eyed the newly exposed skin leisurely as the tendrils continued their lazy roam, slipping knots of fabric open like they were dissolving the silk. You watched his abs clench in the cool air, and the slow reveal of his cock, sitting half hard between trimmed swirls of dark blonde. His thighs tensed as they too were forced apart by the roaming tendrils.

“You slut.” He accused, though his face was flushed almost imperceptibly. “If you wanted me to fuck you this bad, coulda just asked y’know.”

“i don’t want to fuck you, Zenin.” You sighed. “Just want to watch you break.”

His mouth opened, prepared to no doubt spit another scathing insult, before his face twisted in mild confusion. His head dropped to watch as another tendril - thick and bulbous - slipped along his parted thighs and rubbed teasingly between his bare cheeks.

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, widened with shock. He writhed pitifully against the restraints as cold realisation dawned. You felt your tongue dart out from between your lips. The expression was utterly delicious - all that boyish arrogance dissolved into pure unfiltered unease as the tip of the teasing tendril traced his rim.

“Don’t you dar-ah-!” His frenzied growl was cutoff as you watched the slithering tendril slip inside, and his face contorted into something soft and dumb.

You took a moment just to watch the obscene sight before you. For all of the vitriol that spilled from his lips, the corrupt core you knew was hidden at the centre beneath those silken robes - Naoya Zenin was undeniably attractive.

Not that you’d have ever admit it aloud, but with his mouth closed it was easy to admire his regal features. That sharp and striking grin, and those chestnut eyes always watching lazily, filled with an unquestioned entitlement.

The very same eyes that were now burning a hole into you between flutters of his lashes as he fought to keep a tether on his waning control, made more difficult by the desperate little sounds that were slipping from his mouth.

You could see the tendril curling inside - pumping slow and deep. Searching until it hit something soft and silky and Naoya jerked forward against the tight bindings, his cock twitching pitifully where it was smearing a slick line across his lower belly.

“Aw, does that feel good?” You cooed, leaned forward to trail a hand up his chest, and you felt his skin prickle in a flurry of goosebumps beneath your touch.

“F-uh-fuck you…” He managed between pants, squirming fruitlessly as the tendril worked him open, jostling him a little with each steady thrust.

You chuckled, grasped a pebbled nipple between your fingers and pinched hard. When you heard him whine in discomfort you released it, leaned back and slapped him across the face again, just for the satisfaction.

“No, fuck you Naoya.” You replied sweetly, watched loose strands of his dirty blonde hair slide forward with him as he crumpled, shoulders trembling.

You left him like that for a few moments - slumped forward against the restraints with his head hung low, eyes drooped to watch himself stretch obscenely around the thick bulging tendril, letting pathetic little sounds slip out into the empty air.

With Naoya sufficiently distracted by the sight of himself being fucked open, you busied yourself slipping your own wrap from your shoulders. You stripped every folded layer until the remains were left crumpled on the floor beneath your bare feet, and you were stood before him entirely nude.

On what must have been a particularly deep thrust Naoya choked a strangled sound and his head arced back far enough for him to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times as if dazed, eyes soon sharpening enough to slide down your bare form with that familiar predatory hunger.

“Are you really this desperate for some action?” He croaked, clearly trying to keep his voice even despite the way he was trembling atop the tatami.

You gave only a chuckle in response, and took a few purposeful strides forward until you stood above him, one leg planted either side of his abdomen.

You gazed down at him from between your parted legs, and when he blinked up at you he looked more wrecked than you would have thought possible for such a cocky bastard. His hazel eyes were blown wide, expression still contorted into a bitter scowl, but undeniably softened with the pleasure clearly pulsing through him.

“You look good like this Naoya.” You praised, though your tone was thick with mocking. “Tied up with something shoved up your ass.”

His sharp brows knitted together tight as he threw his head to the side to spit viciously, and you felt a stray droplet hit your bare toe.

“Just wait… hah-…. stupid bitch… gonna kill you for this…” He grunted. His jaw clenched tight, and you watched his toned throat bob as he swallowed, adams apple bobbing.

“Should be thanking me.” You mused. “When’s the last time you even saw a pussy you didn’t have to pay for or coerce, Naoya?”

As if to highlight your point, your fingers trailed down over the soft curve of your own belly to rub slow, teasing circles over yourself. You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s eyes dropped between your thighs, locked onto where your fingers were tracing your clit.

With a satisfied hum, you slid to your knees and Naoya made a sharp sound, jolted backward in a vein attempt to avoid being caught between your thighs. But you kneeled above him regardless, body laid bare just out of reach, and tilted your head in a speechless mock.

“Go on, stick your tongue out.” You cooed, fingers slipping either side to tug yourself apart, glistening pussy hovering inches from his face.

“I’d rather die.” He grunted, bristling below you. But you caught the sight of his tongue darting out to wet his lips, eyes still locked on your dripping cunt. A freudian slip if you’d ever see one.

As if expecting his rebuttal, another slick tendril slid out from behind his nape to coil around his blushed throat in a pulsing squeeze, just tight enough to make your threat clear.

“I can arrange that.” You replied smoothly.

His brows furrowed, and he snarled out a frustrated grunt, nudging his head back against the sudden pressure wrapped heavy around his throat. Deciding that defying you was not worth his life, wormlike as he was - he acquiesced. In the next flutter of your lashes you found his jaw slack, tongue slipped out, laid flat and waiting as he glared up at you.

You purred above him, a low satisfied noise and settled onto his face, pressed down hard until his nose tickled the trim spatter of hair at your base.

“Eat it like you mean it, Zenin.” You cooed. “And no fucking teeth.”

Despite his earlier refusal, he made a betrayingly weak sound when his tongue finally met your cunt. The muscle swiping immediately up through your slick folds to taste where you were already dripping wet from the sheer adrenaline.

You moaned softly at the sudden burst of sensation, sucked your lower lip between your teeth as his hot mouth pressed to your most sensitive area.

Where you thought he might tug his head back and revolt after the first taste - he instead lifted his jaw and swirled his tongue greedily over your clit, and your hips jerked in surprise.

“That’s it.” You breathed, thighs twitching in approval. “This is a much better use for that filthy mouth of yours, don’t you think?”

You felt his jaw tighten as he began to snark a muffled reply, but the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair stripped the words from his tongue.

You scratched your nails against his scalp a little just to enjoy the way he shivered beneath you before you gripped the blonde strands tight and yanked hard, earning a wild groan from deep in his throat.

“That’s what I thought, Zenin.” You breathed. “Just shut up and eat, yeah?”

With your fingers still laced tightly through his hair, you rocked your hips roughly into him, holding his head in place as you grinded down hard against his waiting tongue.

When you peered down you were a little surprised to see that his eyes were closed. His expression was unexpectedly soft as he met the harsh roll of your hips with what you could only read as enthusiasm - sucking you further into his mouth each time your mound bumped against his nose.

The sight sent a jolt of unexpected desire and mild annoyance through you, and you pooled your focus on riding his face harder. He grunted out small sounds as you shoved him down to meet your hips, hand still locked in his hair.

You threw your head back, mouth slack as you groaned - unashamedly enjoying the feeling of him beneath you, devouring your cunt like a starved dog. He responded to your pleased noises in kind - tongue swirling wide sloppy circles over your clit before it dipped down to press inside your entrance, thick and wet.

What could you say, the asshole was good with his mouth.

Spit and slick dribbled down the sharp curve of his jaw as he bobbed his head, slurping in a frankly obscene display. As you bucked your hips and moaned unashamedly, you found that your head had tilted back. And when you blinked your eyes open you couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at the sight.

“Pathetic.” You panted. “You talk so big, but here you are - hard after getting slapped around a little by a lowly servant.”

True to your mocking - his cock was rock hard and untouched behind you. Flushed an angry red and weeping onto his bare stomach, twitching with each steady thrust of the tendril still massaging his insides.

You leaned back as you continued the roll of your hips over his tongue, fingers creeping down his blushed chest to wrap around his length.

“Lucky you’ve got this big cock, Naoya.” You purred, giving him a few lazy pumps and feeling the way he jolted beneath you. “Useless otherwise.”

Naoya groaned weakly against your cunt, from the harshness of your words or your tight grip on his cock, you couldn’t tell. His jaw went slack as your wrist curled, fisting him in an iron grip. Your thumb teased over that tight bundle at the tip, making him jerk against the restraints still biting into his biceps.

“Swearmmgonna kill you for this-ahnnnhnn-not gonna last another ffkingweek-…” He slurred a flurry of unintelligible threats between the sounds of his own choked moans and his frantic slurping.

His eyes were still squeezed closed, blindly lapping at you as he bucked his hips up into your waiting palm and then back against the thick tendril, fucking himself on it, chasing the sizzling friction of your slick fist.

“Go on, Zenin.” You breathed, rolling your hips and forcing his head to arc back with the motion until his glossy eyes met yours. “Tell me how much you love it - getting your face by ridden by some low life sorcerer nobody.”

You lifted your hips up just enough to let him suck in a gasped breath and hiss out an answer. His voice came out in a crackled rumble as he peered up at you, black dwarfing brown beneath his lowered lashes.

“ ‘s disgusting…-“ He slurred, tongue swiping over his lips like a drooling mutt licking it’s chops after a meal.

“It’s disgusting?” You echoed. “But you’re close, aren’t you?”

He didn’t need to answer. You could tell by the way he was trembling that he was toeing the edge. His body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap, rocking down desperately onto the thick tendril between his thighs. The way he was drooling pre over your knuckles, cock weeping beneath the unending pump of your fist.

“Oh Naoya, gonna cum so soon?” You teased.

When he didn’t answer, you released him just long enough to tug your hand back and bring it down quick as a whip - slapping his throbbing cock and earning a sharp whine from him.

“Asked you a question.” You bit, voice firmer now. “Are you really gonna cum so quickly?”

Naoya sucked in a shaky breath, head pressed against the dewy skin of your inner thigh, long turned sticky with your arousal and his own spit. He nodded his head wildly, reddened cheek pressed against you, and you hummed in approval.

“Go on then, beg me for it.” You soothed, capturing him once again and resuming the tight, steady pump of your wrist.

Naoya was panting now, breaths coming hot against the layer of spit and slick coating you as he rutted frantically into your closed fist, and pressed sloppy desperate kisses into your cunt.

“Pleasemmmmso fucking close pleaselemme cum,please keepfucking me pleasepleaseplease…” He slurred, face nuzzled against your drooling pussy.

“What a good boy.” You purred, and you swore you felt his cock twitch against your palm.

He gave no reply, simply a long spineless whine as his eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips flat over your clit - attaching himself to your messy cunt like it was his lifeline.

Without a word, you suddenly tugged away - releasing him from your grasp and straightening up on trembling thighs. Naoya made a genuinely annoyed sound in response, lips splitting from your pussy with an obscene pop as you slid away.

“Huh?…” He questioned dumbly, syrupy eyes blinking slowly up at you as if you’d snatched him from a dream.

His expression was entirely softened, face soaked in your slick and his own spit. His skin glistened with it, all the way up to his cheekbones. Even his forehead was slick with sweat where strands of dirty blonde turned dark, plastered to his skin. His lips were swollen pink and plump where they had been pressed against you.

You slipped back down to your knees again then, this time lower, legs tossed over either of his parted thighs. You pressed your palms flat over his clenched abs, and a loose tendril slid down between your forearms to curl around his cock, tilting his twitching length up until you could run your bare cunt over his tip.

His eyes flew to yours, and you met his gaze just as they sharpened in sudden realisation.

“No, don’t-hnnghah!-…”

You took a moment to relish in it - the way his voice choked out and died in his throat, his expression of raw shock as you sunk down onto his cock before his eyes rolled back in his skull, and his head arced until it hit the floor.

That was all it took. The warmth of your spit soaked pussy enveloping him down to the hilt. A few slow rocks of your hips, a few tight clenches from your sloppy cunt and he was coming undone beneath you in a pitiful heap.

You rode him through it, hips grinding in tight shallow thrusts, keeping him nice and deep as he throbbed, filling you with a seemingly endless spurt of cum - pulsing thick and sticky inside until you felt it begin to pool at the base of him.

“The only redeeming thing about you is your fucking family name, Zenin.” You panted a little as you spat, words turned to venom, eyes burning a hole into the man squirming beneath you.

“So I’m taking it.”

He was all but convulsing beneath you, that thick tendril still pumping steadily inside him, petting incessantly against that silky spot that had him jerking in place, filling you with more and more thick milky ribbons until you could feel yourself stuffed utterly full.

As you humped him, you pressed a hand flat atop your lower belly, sliding over the little pouch of fat concealing your womb.

Naoya watched you dimly through a lone eye winked open. He was panting, body still twitching with residual thrums of pleasure as your hips stilled, finished milking him. When the thick tendril finally slipped from him he let out a sound so feeble you almost laughed, and you felt him throb weakly inside you - cumming utterly dry.

Your lips stretched into a lazy grin, and you leaned close to whisper as you slipped his cock from you, let your mess drip down and coat him.

“Don’t worry.” You purred into his ear. “Might even let you see the kid, if you’re good.”

He shivered beneath you, droopy eyes still locked on the sight of his own cum dribbling from you.

You smiled, leaned back until your palms hit the tatami, letting your thighs part lazily as the tendrils binding his arms slipped free.

“Now come and clean up this mess, hm?”

[i-like-to-read-13]

Hooooollllyyyyyyy shiiiiiittt!!! I'm quite literally in love with this???? I'll never not be satisfied by a fic putting Naoya in his place lmaooooo. I'll never get enough of fics like this, it scratches Such A Specific Itch, to consume media about pathetic men 😤 Definitely coming back to read this again!!

[hells-lady]

Someone please write a fic where the clan is taken over by Fushiguro and Naoya Zenin is given to a friend for “training” aka learn to respect women.

I need this man being an absolute brat and getting his ass handed to him by a soft femme woman who doesn’t tolerate his behavior. She lets him act out with a smile on her face and then as punishment takes him to the supermarket on a leash and collar.

He has to pick out the ingredients for the food he’s going to make himself tonight. If he’s good, she may let him slide with a frozen pizza. If he’s bad, he may have to learn how to make sourdough from scratch and is only allowed dog kibble to eat until he makes a loaf good enough for his mistress.❤️

If someone has already written this or something similar PLEASE share in the comments!

[sytorusdoll-deactivated20260122]

MDNI 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ⋆˚࿔ sandwiched between fratboys suguru geto and satoru gojo ⋆˚࿔ m.list

you're not sure how you got here— sandwiched between two frat boys who you didn't even think knew you existed. 

“hey, you're smart, right? i mean, you know about numbers and shit?” 

the moment satoru's deep voice hits your ears, you freeze— holding your books tightly against your chest, your glasses falling down the bridge of your nose, and the white bow tied around your ponytail hanging loose.

“what tweedle-dick here is trying to say, is that we could use some help studying for exams.”

now you think your heart’s stopped— hearing suguru's deep, velvety voice immediately sends shivers down your spine.

satoru gojo and suguru geto— the most popular frat boys on your campus, or hell, even in your city for that matter, are asking you to help them study?

you didn't even think they knew you existed, always sitting quietly in the back of the class and taking notes like the perfect little student you were, all while they would have the other girls in class fawning over them. 

satoru’s voice snaps you out of your trance,  “so, what'dya say, huh? wanna tutor us, teach?”

….oh right. that's how you got here.

you're sandwiched between satoru and suguru right in their dorm room, the three of you completely naked on satoru’s bed.

suguru’s got a tight grip on your thighs, calloused fingers digging into the pillowy flesh as he places soft, wet kisses just below where you need him the most— all while satoru’s sitting behind you, your back pressed against his hard chest, droplets of sweat mingling between your heated skin. 

“always lookin’ so pretty, wearin’ your little skirts and these cute hair bows.” satoru’s breath is hot against your ear, one of his hands kneading the heavy swell of your breast, the other tugging at the satin lace that's gotten lost in your damp hair. 

suguru continues his relentless torture of slow, sloppy kisses against the softness of your thighs— biting and sucking, running his tongue along the marks to soothe the blossming bruises. 

“dressing up for us, weren't you?” suguru murmurs against your thigh, long dark tendrils hanging loosely from his bun and tickling your sensitive skin. 

“i-i don’ know what you mean.” you innocently whimper as you try to buck your hips against his tongue. 

“ah-ah,” suguru slaps your thigh lightly, but still enough to sting, “be a good girl and be patient. you'll take whatever i give you, won't you?” 

“mmph— y-yes suguru, please.” you whimper, pouting your lip out. 

“aw, cmon sugu, she's begging so nicely.” satoru smirks against your neck, one hand still caressing the swell of your breast while the other snakes down to your throbbing cunt. 

satoru hooks two long fingers between your folds, gathering your syrupy slick and sticking them in front of suguru’s face. 

“look at how wet we’re makin’ her, always acting so innocent, but now she’s dripping down my hand like a slut.” 

your face heats up at satoru’s crude words, but for some reason your pussy starts to leak more. 

suguru leans up, sticking his tongue out and lapping along satoru’s fingers, licking every single drop of your essence clean from his long digits. 

“guys, c’mon, please.” you squirm beneath them.

“mmm-” suguru releases satoru's fingers with a lewd pop before slapping your thigh again— harder this time, “please what, pretty girl? use that sweet mouth of yours and tell us exactly what it is that you want.” 

“i-i want… i want you— both of you, please suguru and satoru, i need you both!” you me voice comes out shaky, tears of desperation welling in your eyes. 

satoru nips at your neck, his hand that's kneading your breast moves to pinch your nipple between his fingers, making you squeal.

“there she is.” 

in one swift motion, suguru takes satoru's free hand and places it right at your pulsing hole, and he settles his face right at your clit. 

“you can be good for us, can't you sweets?” satoru murmurs, voice rough as he slowly starts pumping those long digits inside your sopping hole. 

“a-hah- i’ll be s’good, promise!” you gasp out, back arching against satoru’s sweat slicked chest, soft breasts heaving and nipples perking as his fingers pump in and out. 

you can feel how hard satoru is behind you, his bare, hard cock throbbing and leaking pre against your back as he subtly ruts against it. 

“such a good girl for us, aren't you?” suguru’s voice laced in silk and sin hits you straight in your core, more of your arousal coating satoru’s fingers and creating a messy web of sticky slick. 

suguru leans down, hot breath ghosting your puffy clit before finally latching onto it and sucking hard. 

he doesn't give you a chance to react— a chance to even breathe through the burning pleasure, his lips suctioned around the swollen bud and his tongue lapping around in quick circles as spit bubbles around his mouth. 

his hooded eyes stay locked onto you, the way your full lips part and your nose flares slightly when you whimper, the way your tears glisten against your cheeks, and how your eyes are locked directly onto him as he makes out sloppily with that sensitive little bundle of nerves. 

satoru bites and kisses along your neck, his fingers scissoring in and out before curling right at that soft spot— the one that makes your dripping cunt and gummy walls squeeze around his fingers. 

“tch, think she's ready to cum for us already suguru. hm, does our sweet girl wanna cum for us?” 

“hnngh- i-i- mmph!” you can't even form words, not when your getting finger fucked and sucked by the two hottest guys you've ever seen. 

“aw, thought you were such a smart girl? you can't even speak properly.” satoru’s sweat slicked hair brushes your cheek as he kisses along your jaw, all while suguru’s completey fucking lost himself in pleasing you. 

something he's never done before, not with any of the bimbos he's hooked up with.

his hooded eyes stay locked into your face, his hips slightly rutting against the mattress as he sucks and sucks and sucks on your swollen clit. 

“p-please, s’too— nngh- much!” you hiccup. 

“s’not enough.” suguru mumbles against your clit, the vibrations only sending another wave of pleasure straight through you. 

satoru bites down on your neck, marking you with another dark bruise as the pads of his fingers curl up again and again and again— putting so much pressure on your g spot you feel like you just might explode.

“milkin’ my fucking fingers, fuck you're so tight— can't wait to bury my cock in this sweet little pussy.” satoru muses between harsh bites and soft licks on your neck, his aching cock leaking an obscene amount of pre against your quivering back. 

with a strained cry, some noise you've never even produced before, you squirt all over satoru’s fingers and down his wrist, all while he presses up against that fleshy spot to prolong your orgasm. 

“mmm- f-fuck-” suguru’s eyes roll back as he feels some of your warm juices splash against his chin, and he groans as he finishes right there against satoru’s mattress. 

but satoru's not far behind him— he continues pumping his lengthy digits in and out of your soaked cunt, and he grabs your face with his free hand— swallowing your moans and whimpers with a sloppy, spit-filled kiss. 

all of your moans intertwine like a beautiful symphony— heavy groans, pants, and whimpers filling the room along with the sounds of your squelching pussy. 

with a few more ruts against your sweat-beaded back, satoru’s orgasm hits him hard as he tongue fucks your mouth— rivulets of thick, hot cum painting your back white— all while suguru watches, his tongue still swirling around your throbbing clit and his hips lazily rutting against the bed. 

“sh-iiit— looks like we both made a mess.” satoru pants against your lips, his long veiny cock and your back dripping with his cum. 

you finally come down from your mind shattering orgasm, panting and sweating, your eyes widening as you feel the wetness on your thighs and the damp spot underneath you.

“oh god- m’sorry- i've never, i don't know-”

“sorry? that was the hottest fucking thing i've ever seen. and i think i can say the same for suguru.” satoru raises an eyebrow and smirks down at his flushed face friend who’s just came all over his sheets from sucking your clit. 

suguru clears his throat, grabbing a t-shirt off the ground and covering his half hard cock that’s still leaking small spurts of cum. 

“y-yeah… hottest thing i've ever seen…” his voice comes out a low, rough mumble as he avoids eye contact, almost like he's… embarrassed? nervous? something suguru geto has never been.

“tch, you owe me some new sheets, asshole.” satoru huffs with a sly smirk.

you lay there panting, breast slicked with sweat, bruises littering your thigh and neck, satoru’s pre cum dripping down your back. 

satoru bites your neck again— all while keeping direct eye contact with suguru— almost like he's… staking his claim over you? 

and you swear you see it, for just half a second, a twinge of jealousy or maybe even anger flash over suguru’s face. 

but surely these two inseparable bestfriends, the hottest frat boys on campus, aren't going to argue over you— the nerdy girl who’s never even had a boyfriend.

…right? 

a/n: hi i hope u guys liked this!!! PLEASE let me know in the comments if this is good enough to continue a part 2, ive already got another stsg x reader cooking and it's gonna be GAY ♡ ( divider by pepsipoet )

special thanks to my princess @uhnosav for reading this ;) ♡

taglist: @killakuna @sukunathispussy @motel6killer @ryomensrealestrider @stberrypuss @tragicluvr @muliwamm @corrynthia @murasakiyams @chewiebee @carienations @booboobear-12 @sluttforsmuttt @nishinoya-senpaai @sweethearticism @bellesiy @joojoobugs @satorus-princess

if you'd like to be added to the perm taglist let me know in the comments or send an ask, must have an age on your profile somewhere, 18+

[hells-lady]

Telling Suguru and Saturo that if they both pass all their midterms that they can fuck your pussy together.

They are practically vibrating as they stand and listen intently. Suddenly they’re more collaborative than they’ve ever been and they’ve eaten you out together.

Because you’re a bit of a sadist, when finals come up, you’re in a cafe with your mocha and cake paid for by daddy warbucks(Gojo) observing them as they study. They’re still working hard for it of course. They were like kids on Christmas when you gave them their promised reward a month back. And they pretended to keep up the good work afterwards with their classes, but they were all at once to busy palming any part of your body they could get their hands on to think of something as mundane as statistics.

Saturo was awful at keeping his hands to himself in public, and had spent the past half hour trying to convince you that sitting in his lap would help you study better. Suguru wasn’t much better with how he encouraged him, but at least he had the decency to keep his hands bellow your upper thigh in public.

After a particularly unfruitful session, they each held one of your hands as the walked you home, damn near skipping. Naive fools thought they would get a reward just because they put their books on the table at the cafe. They hadn’t opened them once.

So you make a decision that will sting for a couple of weeks, but the delayed gratification will be worth it.

“Sex ban.”

Saturo stumbles. Suguru freezes.

“What-“

“Sex ban until both of you pass another final.”

“No, wait- is this because of the edging yesterday?” Satoru grabs your shoulders. “Cause if we went too far you gotta tell us-“

“Nope,” you shake your head, “This is because I’ve not seen you finish a single assignment in three weeks between the two of you.”

“Well the professor is lax baby.” Suguru embraces you from behind. “We were gonna get it done before finals week.”

You pull away from both of them and stand with your arms crossed. The November air is already colder without their smothering. “I’ve made up my mind. And if you two don’t keep your hands to yourselves during our next study session you’ll find yourselves tutorless for this semester.”

Saturo actually drops to his knees in the quad. Surely no man has known such devastation, such retribution.

Suguru still thinks he can salvage the situation and gives what is supposed to be a relaxed smile but somehow becomes a constipated grimace. “Baby, please. We can’t focus with blue balls-“

“Then keep gagging on each others’ dicks. But you get no pussy for now. Especially not it you fail a class this semester.”

“We can fix this…” Saturo is already into bargaining. “I’ll set up a meeting with Dr. what’s her face right now.” He’s already pulling out his phone.

“And no bribing or sweet talking no the professors. It doesn’t count if you don’t put the work in.”

“Light of my life,” Saturo is ashen at this point.

You give it a second of their desperate silence and shock. Then you smile. You’ve created the perfect teaching moment.

“If you were paying attention in class last week, you would know that the most effective classical conditioning is positive reinforcement, not negative punishment. So, the person who gets the highest grade on a final this semester gets to be the first one to fuck me in the ass. Ever.”

The silence stretches. Then it erupts in a frenzy of your boyfriends fighting over the books they forgot they were carrying. They didn’t even know which ones they needed, you were pretty sure they pulled out a playboy at one point.

A little friendly competition never hurt anyone. At least, not those two. Your ass on the other hand would definitely need the next two weeks just to prep.