Otakusmutreader

If you couldn't tell already I am a Nekoma girly. Kenma is my sweet boyfriend 💕. Anyways I don't post much, but when I do consider it to be smut or slice of life (maybe) Anyways Thx for liking my posts and I'll keep going if you guys really like them. This is Otaku signing put bye Neko's♥️🐾 my TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@2dismy3d?_r=1&_t=ZP-93W952IHRJ1 My TikTok name is the same on Tumblr (just without the smutreader part)

[otaku-over1ord]

✦ Unexpected Series ✦

This is a collection of unexpected pairings

from different universes, different dynamics, different kinds of quiet.

some were poll results.

some just wouldn’t leave my head.

these stories focus on:

comfort over conflict

quiet moments over big gestures

softness where canon didn’t give it

rainy days. shared silence. borrowed clothes.

characters finding safety in each other.

➤ [masterlist link here]

───────────────

🌧️ comfort / overstimulation

☕ soft domestic

📚 study / school

🐈 quiet affection

🖤 unexpected but it works

-------------------------------------------------

Written

Shoji × Akaashi

🌧️ comfort | 📚 studying | 🐈 cat included

bakugo × kenma

↳ gamer au | quiet tension | parallel silence

───────────────

⏳ coming soon / idea bank

sero × kuroo

↳ banter → softness | late nights | unexpected vulnerability

momo × kenma

↳ study sessions | shared quiet | mutual understanding

denki × yaku

↳ golden retriever × tired cat | domestic fluff

deku × hinata

↳ mutual encouragement | soft smiles | pure heart energy

───────────────

🌙 poll favorites / requested

bakugo × tendō

↳ chaotic honesty | emotional grounding

aizawa × iwaizumi

↳ exhaustion comfort | acts of service | slow trust

tamaki × aone × ushijima

↳ heavy fluff | reassurance | found safety

mirio × bokuto

↳ sunlight energy | loud love | constant reassurance

───────────────

🖤 notes

this series is a mix of poll results + whatever won’t leave my brain

all works are fluff / comfort / aged-up or au where needed

The masterlist will be updated as stories are posted

[otaku-over1ord]

The Whiny Wolf

The dim lights of the studio basement hummed low, the only sound besides the wet slap of skin and Bang Chan’s broken, desperate whimpers. The rest of the polycule was gone—practice run long, schedules cleared—and Haneul had locked the door the second she saw that look in his eyes. The one that said the wolf was off the leash tonight.

He was already on his knees in front of her, forehead pressed to her bare thigh, fingers digging bruises into her hips like she might disappear if he let go. Sweat slicked his dark hair, clinging to his forehead, and his voice cracked when he spoke.

“Baby—fuck—please,” he whined, the word dragged out long and needy, almost a sob. “I’ve been hard since soundcheck thinking about you. I can’t—can’t think straight. Just let me taste you, please, I’ll be good, I swear—”

Haneul threaded her fingers through his hair and yanked his head back so she could see his face. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and shiny from where he’d been biting them raw. A thin string of drool already clung to the corner of his mouth. Pathetic. Perfect.

“You’re such a needy little bitch tonight, Chris,” she murmured, voice low and sweet. “Look at you. Wolf’s all bark and no bite until I give him what he wants.”

He moaned at the words, hips jerking forward helplessly, cock straining heavy and leaking against his thigh. The head was flushed dark, glistening at the tip, and he hadn’t even touched himself yet. He wouldn’t. Not until she said.

“Please,” he begged again, voice cracking higher. “I’ll do anything. I’ll cry for it if you want. Just—fuck—let me put my mouth on you.”

She stepped one foot onto the low couch behind him, spreading herself open right in front of his face. The scent of her hit him like a drug. Chan’s breath stuttered, and he lunged forward with a broken sound that was half growl, half sob. His tongue dragged up her slit in one long, greedy stroke, then he buried his face between her thighs like a man starving.

“Fuuuuck—yes—thank you, thank you—” The words dissolved into wet, obscene noises as he licked and sucked like he was trying to crawl inside her. His nose rubbed against her clit while his tongue fucked into her, desperate and sloppy, spit running down his chin and dripping onto the floor.

Haneul’s fingers tightened in his hair, hips rolling against his mouth. “That’s it. Eat it like the desperate wolf you are. Make me come and maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”

He whimpered loudly at that, the vibration shooting straight through her. One of his hands left her hip to wrap around his own cock—he couldn’t help it anymore—stroking himself fast and rough while he devoured her. The wet sounds of his hand and his mouth filled the room, mixed with his constant, broken little whines.

“Gonna—gonna come just from this,” he gasped against her pussy, voice wrecked. “Please let me put it in—please, I need to be inside you, I’m losing my fucking mind—”

Haneul shoved him back onto the couch before he could finish the sentence. He landed on his back with a startled moan, legs splayed, cock slapping hard against his stomach. She climbed over him, straddling his hips, and sank down in one smooth, brutal motion.

Chan’s back arched clean off the cushions, a loud, broken cry ripping out of him. “Oh my god—fuck—tight—too tight—baby, slow down, I’ll—shit—”

She didn’t slow down. She rode him hard, hips snapping, nails digging into his chest. Every thrust punched the air out of him in high, whiny moans that echoed off the studio walls.

“Listen to you,” she taunted, leaning down to bite his bottom lip. “Big bad leader, crying on my cock like a needy little slut. You gonna come already, wolf? Gonna fill me up before I even get to use you properly?”

“Yes—yes—please—can’t hold it—” His hands flew to her waist, fingers bruising as he tried to slow her down, but she just fucked him harder. Tears were actually pricking at the corners of his eyes now, lashes wet, mouth open in a constant stream of desperate noises. “Haneul—Haneul—fuck, I love you, I love your pussy, I’m gonna—gonna—”

She slammed down one last time and ground her clit against him. Chan came with a shattered wail, hips jerking up so hard he almost bucked her off. Thick, hot pulses of cum flooded into her, so much it leaked out around his cock and smeared over his thighs. He kept thrusting through it, overstimulated and whimpering, eyes rolling back.

But Haneul wasn’t done.

She kept riding him through his orgasm, chasing her own, until his whines turned into full-on sobs and his cock twitched helplessly inside her again, still hard because the wolf never stayed down for long.

“Again,” she growled, nails raking down his chest. “You’re not stopping until I say so. Be a good boy and cry for me some more.”

Bang Chan’s head fell back against the cushions, tears slipping down his temples, a wrecked, blissful smile on his face as he nodded frantically.

“Yes—yes, please—use me—ruin me—fuck, I’m yours—”

And the wolf let her break him all over again.

[otaku-over1ord]

Bakugo x Kenma

↳ gamer au | quiet tension | parallel silence

☕ soft domestic|🐈 quiet affection|🖤 unexpected but it works

The apartment smelled like instant ramen and ozone from overheating electronics. A single floor lamp cast a warm cone of light over the low coffee table, leaving the rest of the living room in blue-tinted darkness. Two monitors glowed like twin portals—one showing a ranked lobby screen, the other a paused strategy game menu. Headphones dangled around necks, cords tangled like unspoken thoughts.

Katsuki Bakugo slumped on the couch, legs sprawled, one arm slung over the backrest. His blond hair was messy from running his fingers through it in frustration earlier. The faint scent of his nitroglycerin sweat still lingered, sharp and metallic, even though he’d showered after the last training session. He wasn’t streaming tonight. No mic. No chat. Just the game.

Across from him, on a beanbag that had seen better days, Kozume Kenma sat with his knees drawn up, cat-like eyes half-lidded as he tapped away at a handheld console. His black-and-blond hair fell into his face, and he made no effort to push it back. The only sounds were the soft click of buttons, the low hum of PC fans, and the occasional distant siren from the city outside.

They’d met through a mutual friend—some chaotic Discord server where pro-hero training schedules somehow overlapped with late-night esports scrims. Kenma had been the calm voice calling out rotations while Katsuki barked orders that somehow synced perfectly with the setter’s quiet precision. One voice chat led to another. Then private lobbies. Then this: showing up at each other’s places with takeout and zero plans beyond “play until we can’t.”

No one talked much. That was the point.

Katsuki glanced sideways. Kenma’s screen reflected in his golden eyes—calm, focused, the complete opposite of the explosive chaos that usually defined Katsuki’s world. The setter didn’t flinch at loud noises anymore. Not even when Katsuki had accidentally set off a small spark during a particularly bad loss streak last week. Kenma had just muted his own mic, waited for the smoke to clear, and said, “Respawn. We’re still up by two.”

Quiet tension hummed between them now, thicker than the humidity outside.

Katsuki shifted, the couch creaking. “You gonna pick a damn character or stare at the menu all night, pudding hair?”

Kenma didn’t look up. His thumb scrolled slowly. “You already complained about my last three choices. Make up your mind what you want to lose to.”

A low growl rumbled in Katsuki’s chest, but there was no real heat in it. He grabbed the second controller and dropped it onto Kenma’s lap without warning. The setter caught it one-handed, reflexes honed from years of dodging volleyballs and last-second clutches.

“Fine. Same team. No carrying your ass this time.”

Kenma’s lips twitched—the closest he ever got to a smirk. “You say that every time.”

They loaded in. The game world bloomed across both screens: neon cityscapes, pulsing objectives, distant explosions that felt too familiar to Katsuki. Parallel play. Side by side but in their own zones. Katsuki barked short calls—“Left flank, dumbass”—and Kenma answered in that soft, steady monotone that cut through noise like a scalpel: “Copy. I’ll set up the poke.”

No small talk about hero rankings. No questions about Kenma’s upcoming matches or streaming schedule. Just the rhythm they’d fallen into over weeks of these nights. Explosive aggression meeting calculated patience. Fireworks and chess moves in the same breath.

Minutes stretched. A team wipe on their side. Katsuki cursed loudly, slamming the controller against his thigh. Sparks danced harmlessly across his palms before he forced them down. Kenma simply restarted the queue, shoulders relaxed, breathing even.

The silence returned, but it wasn’t empty.

Kenma set his handheld aside for a moment, stretching his arms above his head. The oversized hoodie he wore slipped off one shoulder, revealing the pale line of his collarbone. Katsuki’s gaze lingered a second too long. Kenma noticed—those cat eyes flicked over—but he said nothing. Just let the moment sit, heavy and unspoken.

“You’re staring,” Kenma finally murmured, voice barely above the fan hum.

“Tch. Your posture’s shit. Gonna fuck up your wrists again.”

A soft huff that might’ve been a laugh. Kenma adjusted anyway, leaning back against the beanbag so their knees nearly brushed. The proximity sent a different kind of spark through the room—one that had nothing to do with quirks.

They queued again. This round flowed better. Kenma’s positioning was flawless, feeding Katsuki openings like perfect sets on the court. Katsuki dove in with reckless precision, explosions lighting up the screen in time with his pulse. When they clutched the objective, neither cheered. Just a shared exhale. A brief glance. The corner of Kenma’s mouth lifted, almost imperceptible.

The tension coiled tighter. Not anger. Not frustration. Something quieter. Heavier. Like two satellites orbiting the same quiet gravity, never quite colliding but always aware of the pull.

Katsuki muted the game audio for a second. The room filled with the real sounds: breathing, the faint creak of furniture, the city humming outside. He reached over without looking and nudged Kenma’s ankle with his foot. A silent check-in. Kenma nudged back, once.

Parallel silence.

Hours slipped by like that. Ramen containers emptied. Energy drinks were crushed and set aside. At some point Kenma migrated from the beanbag to the couch, close enough that their shoulders touched when one of them leaned forward. Neither pulled away.

During a loading screen, Katsuki’s voice dropped low, rough around the edges. “You don’t gotta keep coming over if you’ve got better shit to do, y’know.”

Kenma’s fingers paused on the controller. He tilted his head, hair brushing Katsuki’s arm. “I know.”

Pause.

“I like the quiet.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He didn’t do soft. He didn’t do whatever this was—whatever name fit the way Kenma’s calm soaked into his chaos like water on gunpowder, keeping it from going off prematurely. But he also didn’t lie.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Me too.”

Another round. Another win. The screens eventually dimmed as the sky outside lightened to a bruised purple. Neither moved to turn on more lights.

Kenma set his controller down first. He turned slightly, knees bumping Katsuki’s thigh. Their eyes met in the low glow—crimson meeting gold. No words. Just that same heavy, comfortable tension that had been building since the first shared lobby.

Katsuki’s hand moved on its own, rough fingers brushing a strand of hair from Kenma’s forehead. Kenma didn’t flinch. He leaned into the touch, minimal but deliberate.

The silence stretched, warm now. Full.

Outside, the city woke up. Inside, two gamers sat in parallel orbits that had finally drawn close enough to share the same small space of quiet.

No confessions. No dramatic declarations.

Just the click of a final menu button.

“Again tomorrow?” Kenma asked, voice soft as static.

Katsuki’s answer was a grunt, but his hand stayed where it was, thumb tracing a lazy circle against Kenma’s temple.

“Yeah. Don’t be late, setter.”

The tension eased into something steadier. Not broken. Just settled.

And in the parallel silence, that was enough.

[otaku-over1ord]

25 posts!

[otaku-over1ord]

Forbidden Romance

Chapter 1: Railways (Before the Crash)

The bass in the control room thrummed low and thick, sinking into bones like late-night secrets. Haneul—MOONNYX when the lights were on, but right now just Haneul with white-red ombre hair spilling over her shoulder like spilled paint—slouched in the swivel chair, one sneaker propped on the edge of the mixing desk. The “Strategy” remix session with TWICE had dragged gloriously past midnight, but the energy still crackled.

Her rap verse was locked in: sharp, multilingual bars that snapped between Korean, English, and Creole with that unapologetic Megan swagger. Now it was wind-down mode—snacks scattered, water bottles sweating, playlist on shuffle while the engineer fine-tuned levels.

Phones buzzed intermittently, but Haneul ignored hers. Too cozy.

She nudged the engineer. “Play something chill. My brain’s fried.”

He scrolled, hit play, no questions.

The opening was soft guitar, almost shy. Then Bang Chan’s voice slid in—low, wrecked, like he’d recorded it alone in the dark with shaking hands.

*“Tunnel vision got my eyes on you (on you) / Tracking every single line and every move (oh, yeah)…”*

Haneul’s eyes drifted shut. A small smile tugged at her lips. “This is nice,” she murmured. Chan’s production always had that intimate ache, the kind that felt personal even when it wasn’t supposed to. She swayed lightly, mouthing along.

*“Heart is racing day and night, for you (for you) / Don’t hold back, enjoy the ride, let it loose…”*

Sana leaned over from the couch. “Who’s this? Sounds… intense.”

“Chan’s new solo. ‘Railways,’ I think. He dropped it out of nowhere.” Haneul chuckled softly. “Sneaky leader.”

Nayeon perked up. “Ooh, play it louder. Chan-oppa’s voice is lethal when he goes soft like that.”

The pre-chorus hit, tension building.

*“The sirens keep on screaming, that’s a warning / We’re staring at the ticket that says, ‘One trip’ / No turning back, hold tight onto them railings / It’s only us, but something’s saying ‘more, please’ (ooh)…”*

Haneul’s smile lingered, but something in her chest tightened. The metaphors were landing heavier than usual—parallel lines that shouldn’t cross, warnings ignored. She thought of late nights in the studio, Chan’s eyes lingering a second too long during choreo tweaks, the way Felix and Hyunjin always found excuses to pull her into the middle of their chaos.

The chorus dropped like adrenaline.

*“Yeah, this train never sleeps / Brace yourself, take a seat / Don’t you care about the casualties, casualties / ‘Cause it’s safe when it’s just you and me, you and me…”*

Her fingers stilled on her phone. Casualties. The word echoed wrong in this context. Chan didn’t write throwaway lines. Every syllable was deliberate.

*“Baby, I feel our heartbeats / Shaking, trembling / Rough ride, hold on tight / Yeah, this train never sleeps…”*

The second verse pushed harder—engines insane, no brakes, fear dead on the route. Haneul sat up straighter. The room felt smaller, the bass syncing too perfectly with her pulse.

Jeongyeon cracked one eye open. “You good? You look like the choreo just got ten counts harder.”

Haneul didn’t reply. Her phone was vibrating nonstop now—relentless notifications piling up. She snatched it, screen lighting her face in cold blue.

#Railways trending worldwide.

#Haneul right behind it.

Threads dissecting lyrics. Old clips resurfaced: her laughing with Chan in the HYBE hallway, Felix burying his face in her shoulder after a show, Hyunjin’s fingers brushing hers mid-dance break. Antis swarming: too dark, too close, too much.

Chan’s pinned post: black square, SoundCloud link. No words.

The track kept playing, bridge cracking with raw delivery.

*“Yeah, this train never sleeps / Hmm, need no break, no brakes, this train / The engines go insane (insane), our lane (our lane), it rains…”*

Her grip whitened. The “you” wasn’t abstract anymore. It was her—platform waiting, mixed signals, mixed blood, heart racing in stolen moments when the cameras were off.

The final chorus faded out on trembling heartbeats and that defiant “hold on tight.”

[....]

Silence crashed in.

Sana touched her arm. “Haneul-ah?”

She stared at the screen. Texts flooded the group chat—Felix first, all caps panic: *“NOONA CHECK TWITTER WE’RE LOSING IT”*

Hyunjin: *“Hyung just dropped a whole confession. What the fuck.”*

Chan: three dots, then nothing.

Haneul exhaled, shaky but steadying. Her cosmic-glitter eyes caught the studio lights—shattered stars, not soft anymore.

*This train never sleeps.* The line looped in her head like a taunt. No brakes. No casualties mattered when it was just them. But casualties were already piling up in the replies: careers teetering, fans fracturing, her name dragged through the mud again. She’d survived worse—colorist comments, sleeping-her-way-up rumors, the constant “too much” energy—but this? This was Chan laying his heart on the tracks for the world to run over. And she was the reason.

Her chest ached. Part love, part terror. *He wrote that at 3AM thinking no one would hear. Now everyone has.*

She stood, hair falling like a veil.

“Okay,” she said, voice low but clear. “Who’s helping me figure out how to keep this train from derailing us all?”

No one spoke right away.

Because they knew:

The ride had already started.

And there were no brakes.

Haneul forced a small, crooked smile—the one she used when cameras were rolling and her heart was cracking. “Thanks for the session, girls. I’ll… I’ll fix the ad-libs tomorrow if needed. Just text me.”

Nayeon sat up fully now, concern etching her face. “You sure you’re okay to drive? You look like you just got hit by the actual train.”

“I’m fine.” Lie. But she had to move. Staying still would let the panic win. “Chan needs me. We all do.”

Jeongyeon pushed off the couch, hugging her quick and tight. “Go. Tell leader-nim we said he’s an idiot for not warning anyone.”

Momo added softly, “And that we love him anyway.”

Haneul nodded, throat tight. She grabbed her bag—hoodie (one of Felix’s, oversized and smelling like vanilla and late-night snacks), keys, phone still buzzing like it was possessed—and slipped out before the tears could fall in front of them.

The hallway lights were too bright. HYBE at night always felt like a ghost building—empty corridors, faint echo of practice rooms still thumping somewhere distant. She walked fast, heels clicking, mind racing faster.

*Tunnel vision got my eyes on you.* She remembered Chan saying something similar once, half-joking, during a late choreo tweak. His gaze had lingered on her lips while she demonstrated a move, then flicked away like he’d been caught. She’d teased him about it. Now it wasn’t funny.

*Heart is racing day and night, for you.* Her heart was doing that now—pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. Felix’s soft “noona” whispers in the dorm kitchen at 2AM, Hyunjin’s dramatic sketches of her eyes taped inside his sketchbook, Chan’s quiet “stay” when everyone else had crashed. They’d built something fragile and fierce in the shadows. Poly wasn’t planned; it just… happened. Stolen touches turning into nights tangled together, laughter turning into desperate kisses when the pressure got too heavy.

And now the world knew. Or suspected. Enough to tear it apart.

She pushed through the exit doors into the cool night air. Her car was parked in the staff lot—black SUV, tinted windows, the kind idols used to hide. She slid in, started the engine, and just sat there for a second, forehead on the wheel.

*Don’t you care about the casualties?*

She did. God, she did. Chan’s career. The group’s. Felix’s brightness dimming under hate comments. Hyunjin’s art getting twisted into scandal fodder. Her own—already a target, now the bullseye.

But turning back wasn’t an option. The ticket said one trip.

She drove.

The streets of Seoul blurred—neon signs, late-night delivery bikes, the Han River glinting under bridges. Her phone kept lighting up: more texts, missed calls from staff, a voice note from Felix she didn’t dare play yet. She focused on the road, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. The way Chan had taught her during his own panic spirals.

HYBE loomed ahead, lights still on in the upper floors. She parked in the underground garage—familiar spot near the service elevator—and took the stairs two at a time to the Stray Kids floor. Heart hammering louder than her footsteps.

The practice room door was cracked open. Low voices spilled out—tense, overlapping.

She pushed in.

They were all there.

Changbin and Han on the couch, phones in hands, scrolling furiously. Seungmin and I.N. leaning against the mirror, quiet. Lee Know pacing slowly like a caged cat.

And in the center: Bang Chan, crouched on the floor, knees drawn up, hands clamped together so tight his knuckles were white. Head bowed, breathing shallow and uneven. Spiral mode—full shutdown. She’d seen it before, after bad comebacks or endless schedules, but never like this. Never because of *her*.

Hyunjin saw her first.

His eyes flicked up—wide, relieved, desperate. He didn’t say anything, just jerked his head sharply: *come here, quick.*

Felix noticed next. His face crumpled for a split second—big eyes glassy—before he forced a small, trembling smile. “Noona…”

Haneul crossed the room in three strides, dropping her bag by the door. She knelt in front of Chan without hesitation, close enough that her knees brushed his.

“Chan-ah,” she said softly. No “leader,” no formality. Just them.

He didn’t look up at first. His shoulders were trembling. “I fucked up,” he whispered, voice raw. “I didn’t think… I just… the song was done and I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

Hyunjin crouched beside her, one hand hovering near Chan’s shoulder like he wasn’t sure touch would help or hurt. “Hyung, breathe. She’s here. We’re all here.”

Felix slid in on Chan’s other side, pressing close—his default comfort mode. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Like always.”

Haneul reached out slowly, cupping Chan’s clamped hands in hers. His fingers were cold. She pried them open gently, threading their fingers together.

“Look at me,” she murmured.

He did—slowly. Eyes red-rimmed, terrified. “Haneul… they’re going to—”

“Shh.” She squeezed. “We knew this day might come. The train’s moving. No brakes, remember?”

A broken laugh escaped him. “I wrote that. Stupid.”

“Not stupid.” She leaned in, forehead to his. “Reckless. But ours.”

Felix rested his head on Chan’s shoulder, voice small. “We’re not letting go.”

Hyunjin’s hand finally landed—firm on Chan’s back. “Yeah. Casualties or not… it’s you and me. Us.”

Chan exhaled, long and shuddering. The spiral didn’t vanish, but it slowed. The room felt a fraction less suffocating.

Haneul glanced around at the others—silent support, worried eyes, but no blame. Just family.

She pressed a soft kiss to Chan’s temple. “We talk. We plan. We fight. Together.”

He nodded, barely.

The sirens were still screaming outside—on the internet, in the headlines.

But in here?

In here, the train hadn’t derailed yet.

They just had to hold on tighter.

[otaku-over1ord]

Forbidden Romance

Chapter 1: Railways (Before the crash)

[otaku-over1ord]

Forbidden Romance

Style: goofy yet somehow hyper serious, dark romance, dark vibe, sweet, REALLY heavy smut, problems and complications.

Plot: Stray kids polycule with a separate polycule. With Felix, Bangchan,Hyunjin, and MC. They face a lot of ridicule for dating a black person though she's Korean. They try to work around the whole problem while still putting music music and doing concerts, greet and meets and collabs. Facing hot moments between them, tears and fights become constant as they don't know how to deal with all the pressure. Throughout this whole mess they figure out what to do.

“Forbidden Romance

In an industry built on fantasy, perfection, and carefully filtered love, no one expected the scandal to start with a song.

Not a dating rumor.

Not dispatch photos.

A song.

When Bang Chan uploaded “Railways” without warning, the lyrics weren’t subtle — they were raw, desperate, unguarded. Too intimate. Too real. The kind of confession that sounds like it was written at 3AM with shaking hands and no intention of ever being heard.

And the name hidden between metaphors wasn’t hard to trace.

Haneul.

Mixed. Black. Korean. Beautiful. Unapologetically visible.

Within twelve minutes of the release, the first wave hit. By sunrise, her name was trending higher than the track itself. Fandoms split like cracked glass — some defending her fiercely, others dissecting her skin tone like it was a flaw in production. Too dark. Too bold. Too close to idols who weren’t supposed to want publicly, let alone want her.

Cameras flashed outside buildings owned by HYBE. Headlines clawed at her name. Comment sections turned into battlegrounds. And inside practice rooms, music kept playing like nothing was wrong — because it couldn’t stop.

But backstage?

Backstage was where the real war lived.

Backstage was heated whispers behind locked dressing room doors. It was fingers gripping fabric a little too tight. It was stolen kisses that tasted like adrenaline and fear. It was arguments that turned into desperate apologies, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the dark. The kind of love that burned hot enough to leave marks — not just on skin, but on reputations.

They weren’t careful anymore.

They were reckless.

World tours continued. Sold-out arenas screamed their names. Meet-and-greets forced practiced smiles. Yet behind closed doors, tension snapped like guitar strings pulled too tight. Jealousy flared. Pressure mounted. Every touch carried risk. Every night together felt like defiance.

The country wanted a fantasy.

Instead, they got four people tangled in something messy, consuming, and impossible to hide.

And somewhere between flashing stage lights and shadows cast against dressing room walls, between love confessions and breaking points, they had to ask themselves a question far more dangerous than any headline:

Were they willing to lose everything — careers, reputations, entire futures — for a love the world insisted should never exist?

Because once you choose each other in an industry like this…

There’s no going back.”

[otaku-over1ord]

Forbidden Romance (info)

Stray kids (Hyunjin, Felix and Bangchan) X MC (insert)

*Idol Profile – MOONNYX (문닉스)

Stage Name: MOONNYX (문닉스)

Korean Name: Kang Haneul-Élise (강 하늘엘리즈)

Haitian Name: Haneul Close St. Fleur-Kang

Ethnicity: Korean–Haitian (Black, mixed)

Birthday: August 14

Zodiac: Leo

Company: HYBE (main label; you can decide sublabel later)

Position: Solo Rapper · Choreographer · Makeup Artist · Content Creator

👑 Fandom

She has age-based fandom nicknames, which is adorable and clever:

• MoonBeams – for kids (her “little lights”)

• Nyzies – for teens

• Nyz Moons – for adults / older fans

Collectively, fans are still part of her “sky/moon” universe, but she can address each age group in a cute, safe way:

“Good morning MoonBeams, Nyzies, and my Nyz Moons~”

🌌 Basic Info

• Height: 168 cm (5'6")

• MBTI: ENFP-T

• Languages: Korean, English, Haitian Creole

• Birthplace: Haitian diaspora (ex: Miami or NYC) → moved to Seoul as a teen

• Labelmates: Under HYBE, which explains her BTS choreo ties and overall global reach.

🎧 Career & Image (unchanged, just under MOONNYX)

• Solo rapper with Megan Thee Stallion-level confidence and performance energy.

• Famous for:

• Mixing Korean, English, and Haitian Creole in rap verses.

• Viral TikTok challenges, especially with Stray Kids/BTS choreos.

• Iconic cosmic eye + white-red ombre hair look.

• Choreographer for:

• BTS (special stages / challenges)

• Stray Kids (title/b-side/stage mixes)

• BLACKPINK (remix performances & tour segments)

• Makeup artist collabs:

• Glitter-heavy, opalescent eye looks that mirror her own supernatural-looking eyes.

• Does special makeup looks for Stray Kids & BLACKPINK members sometimes.

• Lives half at HYBE, half at SKZ’s dorm:

• Cooks, does makeup, fixes choreo, records content, repeat.

🐾 Pets & Fandom Brand (same, just branded under MOONNYX)

• Mochi – sweet chaos & comfort dog content

• Sasha – cheetah-style fashion icon with harness + cap, her “streetwear mascot”

• Nyx – her quiet black guardian dog; also the hidden inspiration for her stage name:

MOONNYX = moon (her ethereal, cosmic aesthetic) + Nyx (her protector pup / Greek night goddess vibe)

Fans connect the stage name to:

• Her glittering, moon-like eyes

• The darker, powerful presence she has on stage

• Nyx always by her side in serious or late-night moments

Backlash

Gets blacklash from some jealous girl fans because:

She’s Black and visibly close to tons of male idols.

She’s physically confident, talented, and not “apologizing” for it.

They spread:

Racist, colorist comments

Rumors about how she got her opportunities

She responds:

Through lyrics, performances, and lives, not petty posts.

Drops a verse calling out: “You love the sound but hate the skin it came in.”

Idols + her fandom:

Stray Kids, BTS, BLACKPINK, and HYBE staff visibly support her.

MoonBeams, Nyzies, and Nyz Moons go feral defending her online.

Backlash & Jealousy (Colorism / Racism Angle)

She’s seen hugging, joking, and being very comfortable with idols:

Stray Kids members treating her like a mix of best friend / comfortable noona / teammate.

BTS members goofing around with her in dance practice clips.

Male idols calling her “Noona,” “Sunbaenim,” or even using Haitian Creole nicknames on camera.

A portion of girl fans:

Make nasty comments about her skin color, body, and hair, using microaggressions and outright racist language.

Accuse her of “flirting” or “stealing oppas” just by existing close to them.

Spread rumors about her “sleeping her way into choreographer gigs,” especially because she’s foreign and Black.

How it affects her:

At first, it hits hard. She’s proud of being Korean-Haitian and Black, but suddenly she’s hyper-aware of colorism and anti-Blackness in the industry.

She writes a verse about it that goes viral, calling out:

Double standards for Black women

People loving Black culture (rap, hip-hop, curves, slang) but hating Black people

Stray Kids casually shutting down hate on live (“If you hate Haneul, you’re not our fan”)

BLACKPINK posting pictures with her, clearly standing by her side

She becomes a symbol of Black & mixed representation in K-pop, especially for international fans.

This gives her story a realistic, painful but powerful edge: she’s loved, but also targeted, and she uses her platform and pen to fight back.

🏠 Relationships & Personality

With Stray Kids

She often crashes at their dorm:

Cooks big pots of stew, rice, and Haitian dishes for them after practice.

Teases them on lives, steals their hoodies, and gets dragged into random TikToks.

Likely closest to:

The main dancer / performance line (sharing choreo ideas)

The producers / rappers (sharing verse ideas and rhythms)

With BLACKPINK

Officially “best friends” in the fandom’s mind:

Lisa & Haneul do dance covers together

Jisoo & Haneul post cute selfies

Rosé & Haneul have soft acoustic collabs

Jennie & Haneul do fashion / makeup content

Her core personality

On stage: Fierce, confident, a little cocky, Megan Thee Stallion energy

Off stage: Goofy, warm, and loud, Loves feeding people, doing their makeup, and hyping them up, Can and will curse you out in three languages if you drag someone she loves*

[tonycries]

Animals - G.S.

Synopsis. Yes, your best friend is secretly an alpha. Yes, he acts like a fúcking anímal when he rúts. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alíve.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Gojo, rúts, best-friends-to-lóvers, creampíes, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, knots, MARATHON SÉX, overstím, knots, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pússy-spánking, héats tríggered, semi-public, matíng press, oraI (fem), slight bondagé, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 7.0k (uh-oh)

A/N. Nanami always gets the short end of the stick LMAO, anyway hope y’all have the loveliest week <3

“Satoru, you’re being strange.”

Granted, Gojo Satoru acting weird wasn’t anything new. 

Especially not when he’s two hours deep into the most droning meeting you’d bribed him into attending as of late - knee bouncing, fingers tapping, head turned towards that firmly shut door like he just wanted to escape. Needed to. 

Then again, even you found your attention waning. Finding whispering with your best friend much more interesting than whatever latest mission statistic Yaga had to present. 

“M’doing just peachy, sweetheart.” Gojo smiles - but it looks stilted, pained. And even through his blindfold, you already knew his snowy brows were furrowed. “Who’s the one not listening to ol’ man Yaga now?”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes down at his figure beside you - draped over the cool mahogany table as if he owned the place. “Well- you better not be faking sick to get out of this meeting. Again.”

He only hums, “Don’t worry your pretty lil’ h-head about it, m’kay?”

With a final, tired rub at your temples, you’re turning back to Nanami to ask for all the world where Yaga was on his fifty-page report now-

And then, it hits you.

Suddenly.

Something smells sweet.

Like candy - particularly that sugary, strawberry-flavored kind you’ve had to tell Gojo off on more than one occasion for eating too many of. Tilting your head just a bit, you think you could also catch hints of honey and pine, such a strange, hypnotic combination.

“S-Satoru…” your words come out in a syrupy gush, feeling your head whirl.

“Hm?”

And despite yourself, you’re taking in deep, heavy inhales of the air surrounding you. Hungry. Mouth salivating as that heady, perfumed whiff clouds up all your senses. “Do you- hah- what is- do you smell-”

“Ngh- no?” he’s cutting you off with a barely-audible groan, one you probably wouldn’t have even caught if your abilities weren’t so sharpened right now. Gojo’s movements seem sluggish, languid as if he was moving through molasses when he raises up one hand to massage the back of his neck.

You can only watch as his head droops down onto the long table with a wince. 

Strange. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have almost thought- 

No, there was no time to be entertaining wild conspiracies. Because at this very moment you’re too caught up flitting through the dates of all your previous heats in your mind. Urgently. 

Three weeks.

Your next heat wasn’t due for another three weeks. So, sure, you didn’t take your suppressants just yet but, that really didn’t matter, did it?

It wasn’t normal for jujutsu sorcerers to be anything other than a beta - and as an omega, you knew firsthand just how difficult it was to fight tooth and nail just to be able to sit at this table. 

Historically, any other faction of society would rather be caught dead than outed, and have their second gender be taken advantage of by the very curses you were supposed to exorcize. Forced to face the stigma of alphas and omegas being too “unstable” or “vulnerable” to be trusted with missions.

This was the very thing you’d been trying to avoid ever since you argued your way into studying at Jujutsu Tech - losing control. 

Especially now.

But god, you were burning up. It smelled so sexy.

And, taking a sweeping glance around the table of betas - at your fellow sorcerers, those grim elders, and your disheveled best friend - that left only you to explain the scent.

You were only thankful that their noses weren’t as powerful as yours. Clinging onto this as a saving grace, with a shaky gulp, you gently nudge Nanami on his side. “Hey- Ken?”

“Yes?” And maybe it was the heat - whatever this was - but Nanami’s deep baritone sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning in traitorously closer to his heated body. His jaw ticks, “Is something wrong? You look…”

“Satoru’s also-”

“So what?”

Without warning, one of his hands comes to splay out across your forehead. Just a mere touch has him sucking in a sharp gasp, “You feel warm, I think you have a fever. You can’t continue the meeting like this.” 

You shake your bleary head in protest. 

“I won’t let you.” Nanami’s voice hardens with a tone of finality, and yet, you still find yourself trying to whirl around to look at Gojo. Maybe for help, maybe for a distraction to escape when your colleague speaks again - this time directed at Yaga. “Principal Yaga, it seems my dear friend here is sick.” Circling an arm around your shoulders to pull you up from your seat and onto weak legs. “If you’ll please excuse us, I will escort-”

Nanami stills - everything stills. 

Everyone stills when his voice tapers off with a ragged grunt, and you feel his chest heave in unsteady breaths. So close now that you can mark the exact moment Nanami’s eyes widen, “Are you…”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit-

“Wait.” Yaga’s voice bellows reproachfully. “Is this- That smell-” But even he can’t find the words, slumping back down into his seat.

Truly, the scent was so saturated now, so primal that even the most stubborn of unmated betas were sneaking peeks at you. You bite your lips raw at another glossy gush from your already-heated cunt. It was so embarrassing - your heats have never acted like this before, let alone come three weeks early.

Sure, perhaps that one time on your very first day at Jujutsu Tech itself - which was embarrassing by itself. And, yet, your mind had never been clearer than it was right now. 

Eyes sliding over to a familiar, trembling mop of white hair - never been needier. 

Fuck, what was your delirious self thinking-

As if drawn by an invisible string, Nanami’s inching impossibly into your hot proximity, hazel eyes falling half-lidded when he takes in a deep whiff. Grumbling, “My love-” Another. And another. Nose almost grazing your pulse now, “-you’re in-”

Slam!

“Out.”

It’s a threat.

That was the first thought that slammed into you, and then the voice continues, slow, snarling like a predator on the edge of ripping something to shreds. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Before you finally understand, it’s a command.

There’s one strong hand around your front, pinning you against a sculpted chest. Something about it has your pulse booming in your ears, fingers clawing at that pale wrist at your shoulder. Yet, he doesn’t even flinch.

Nanami, however, reluctantly detaches his hands from your body, and you finally have enough strength to look towards the origin of the words. Only for your glassy gaze to meet with a towering Gojo Satoru standing at his full height - when did he even get up? 

Jaw clench, sharp canines bared, blindfold dangling haphazardly around his neck - ah, he looked like a man that crawled from hell and back simply to take you all along with him. 

With you at lucky number one. 

First in his line of sight. Close enough that you can finally smell him. 

Oh.

Oh. 

And you swear you saw his eyes tint with the faintest blue lightning when your own scent perks up. Boring into you for just a millisecond before narrowing his gaze down at a stupefied Nanami, cracking the kinks in his neck. “Unless ya wanna watch.” He bares the rest of the room with his flooring glare, “Unless all of you want to watch.”

It’s chaos. 

They understood - perhaps long before even you did. 

Chairs clatter, the desk trembles, and that safe haven of the door is swung open. That weezing council of elders are first to stumble over one another into the hallway, Yaga following shortly with a wordless sigh. 

Until the only ones left are you and him - and Nanami.

Blond brows raising, his eyes flit frantically between you and a possessive Gojo. Sputtering out, each word jagged, and dry as if they’re being wrenched from his chest. “What is the meaning of this- We- I thought you were a- a beta.” 

Everyone did, and Nanami was speaking what your mind couldn’t right now. 

Gojo Satoru always presented himself as a beta - never affected by your heats, never disappearing once every few months for his ruts as you remember Suguru did. He always seemed so normal - perhaps the one thing about him that was. Unaffected by the stupid little trials and tribulations of alphas and omegas in sorcery. 

But it was undeniable, he was an alpha. 

And taking a deep inhale of his saccharine sweet perfume - so overpowering - he might just be the strongest you’ve ever encountered. How fitting.

“You thought.” Gojo’s voice was clipped, rumbling with a low growl that sent electrifying shivers down to your very cunt. And his tone just makes Nanami jolt. “And I can’t right now so I- fuck-”

Gojo’s body wracks with a violent shudder, making him hunch over - with you in tow. His hot breath puffs out in feverish pants near your ear, abs clenching as another velvety wave of pheromones emit from him. 

You mewl when your body is jostled in his toned arms, nudging the very curve of your ass - tight uniform skirt hiking up just enough - so that you push in a slow drag against something rock-hard. Massive. Weeping out in a sticky damp spot that seeps into your skin. 

“Hah-” you’re gasping, face swirling to nose up the crook of his neck - where the candied scent was most prominent. “Toru–”

There’s a gasp - and it’s not from you this time. 

Both you and Gojo are snapping your dazed heads upwards at a frozen Nanami, his hand shooting to cover his nose. Eyes wild- “I-”

Before thinking better of it, it seems like Nanami opted to keep some part of his sanity as he abruptly turns on his heels without a second glance backwards. Marching robotically, the only moment he stops is once he’s at the doorway. One hand tugging on his suddenly too-tight pants, the other on the doorknob. Eyes still trained forwards when he calls out gruffly, “Don’t break the table, insurance doesn’t cover it.”

SLAM!

Finally alone.

Your vision swims - is the door even locked? Is this- God, you feel hot. So hot - too hot.

And Gojo’s burning up, arms wrapping around you so tight that you could feel the way his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. He breathes out into your ear, “My pretty girl…”

“Oh sh-shit–” you’re whimpering, big fat tears welling up behind your eyes. And without wasting a second, as soon as it splatters hotly on your best friend’s skin, he licks a long, lazy stripe to lap at the hazy saltiness. Babbling away, “Feel so dizzy hngh- and you- you’re an alpha?”

Honestly, part of you still didn’t want to believe it.

But as soon as he husks out a gravelly moan, as soon as his tongue dips down a wet pathway to the scent gland on your neck - you already know you won’t be making it out of this alive. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“Mhm- fuck! m’sorry.” he grunts into your skin, slightly muffled. Nipping ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry m’sorry- had to- my sudden rut made my- hah, made my pretty omega go into heat, didn’t it?”

His soft palms glide down your trembly body, greedily kneading every dip and curve that comes his way. He’s lost. So, so lost. 

Plastering his lips down every inch of skin he could reach, that sweet scent sticking to you like a sloppy second skin. And you can barely even think when you feel his swollen dick just twitch behind you, a fresh wave of swelteringly hot precum sloshing right through your silken skirt.

You whimper when you’re rutting messily back and forth, and he drags a thick thumb to pry your spit-glossed lips open. “Aww, poor baby. Tell me- fuck tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

And all you can really give him right now is a circular swivel of your hips, which evidently wasn’t enough. 

Because Gojo’s furious tip only hardens, and he hisses with a slight tug up your skirt. Cold fingers dancing ravenously up the edge of your drenched panties, gliding the very rounded tip of his index slowly across your sopping slit. 

“Tha’s not enough.” he snickers, and suddenly you’re hit with another wave of emanating pheromones. Enough to make you just slobber a glistening coating all down his long digits. “Use your ah- w-words like a big girl now. Because when I start…” His teeth find your earlobe, and his fingers find themselves planting a dripping wet slap! across your puffed-up clit. Unwavering. Unapologetic. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“Please, Toru.” That cute little nickname makes him jump, makes him throw his head back with a low moan. Brows scrunching together as if pained. “Don’t want you to stop-”

Maybe you were going to say more - maybe you would’ve called him that nickname and driven him even crazier. 

But Gojo doesn’t wait to find out. 

In one, fluid motion he’s picking up your body into the easiest princess carry you two would’ve laughed at if this was one of those romcoms you watched together. Just splaying you out on your back across the cool table, he situates himself in the perfect position between your legs. 

Oh, how he loved this view. How he’s spent so many ruts just like this imagining this view.

“F-fuck- You have no idea how- how crazy it drove me.” rasping groans drag out from his throat, strained with every slow drag of his cock down the front of your now-see-through panties. “How wild-” You’re nearly screaming when his canines dig in to that soft spot underneath your ear. “-to pretend I didn’t know you smelled so hah- so fucking delicious.”

And then you feel him still - alert, ready.

Chest heaving, an almost chilling tone dipping into his words when he spits, “Except when you smell like him.”

Your jaw falls slack when the temperature in the room heats up another few heady degrees, and the sheer power of your two scents mixing together is almost maddening. 

“He- he? Toru, what do you-” you’re gasping out in tiny huffs, while he busies himself with biting and licking down your exposed neck. Enough to leave you smeared all over with marks. “Who- Kento?”

“Oh, sayin’ another man’s name when you’re with- fuck- me?” Gojo’s bucking powerfully into you, his body was pinning you down. Scorching, now. “Such a naughty omega- I should kill him for how he touched you.”

Truly, his alpha was fucking clawing at him to trek out of this room right now and finish off the job - but, no, you were too hypnotic. And Gojo Satoru, the strongest, was no match for you.

The wet thwack of his fingers once more kisses in a rude smack against your clit, making you squeal. Ringing across your thundering ears, he swears at that broken, blissful noise from you. “Fuckin’ oh, would ya let him see you like this, too? Let him touch you like th-this?”

And Gojo looked so starved, velvety blindfold tickling your chin when he leans in close. Lips ghosting your own - but not quite. You’re suddenly brought back to the very first thought you had - that this is about to be a bloodbath. 

“I wouldn’t–” you bite back in your honeyed tone, and you can feel your omega just purr in satisfaction. “N’ it’s not my fault that someone-”

Smack! Harder, sprinkled with tiny bolts of electricity.

“Correct.” 

It’s breathed out into your mouth - a quick, hedonistic peck. Gojo just taunting your sanity before he’s pulling away with a gruff string of profanity, like it hurt him just as much as it did to you. 

You feel your slick dribble down into a saturated puddle below you. And the mere sight of it makes Gojo just reel his hips deliriously forwards, grinding his massive bulge across your dripping cunt until you could see it soil a fountainy dark patch on his pants. 

“F-fuckin’-” his eyes roll to the back of his head at how hot you were. How pouring wet. Wrangling your quivering legs painfully stretched open, “-woman of my dreams.”

With two, thick fingers hooked over the hem of your skirt, it’s being torn off in an easy pull. Falling somewhere in a pile of impractical tatters onto the meeting room floor, along with your shirt.

And as soon as it’s off, Gojo’s only growing more feral. More hungry. 

He’s drooling from one corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t even notice at this point. Honestly, barely even realizing the burning pain when he falls to the floor on his knees. Clattering haphazardly, insatiably nosing up your jittery inner thighs. 

“Oh sweetheart- oh my pretty girl. My pretty, pretty girl–” he’s breathing out, head lolling drunkenly against your legs. And Gojo gulps when he spreads your panties away with a wet glide of his thumb, just enough to see your messy hole winking up at him eagerly. All soaked and needy. “M’gonna have so much fun being yours.”

He kisses wetly through your panties - without warning, without even breathing. Just surging his pretty face into the heated crevice between your thighs, taste buds on his pinkish tongue grazing up the soaked fabric.

Like he was addicted.

“Oh- oh my god-” you’re mewling out, lower lip wobbly at every sultry swirl of Gojo’s tongue over your pussy lips, painting your messy hole in every mesh of slick and spit he could conjure up. “It feels too- hah–”

You were always so sensitive during your heats, every single one of your senses heightened to the max. So it made your mind all overwhelmingly melty inside to have his steaming hot mouth on your equally ravenous cunt. Hungry.

Yeah, he was addicted.

Dragging a few fingers in-between your glistening folds, scissoring them shamefully open to spit. Once. Twice. 

Some of it splatters strayly onto the start of your thighs, which Gojo glady licks up all over again to stream out a thick wad back onto your silt. Until your cunt was drooling translucent dredges of everything he has to give, he smears his messy thumb in easy rotations around your clit. Filthy. 

“So gorgeous- so good f’me.” Gojo titters, biting down teasingly on the very edge of your panties. And he can’t hide that fucked-out little groan when pulls it back, back, back to just snap! it meanly right on your cunt. “Fuck- you taste as s-sweet as you smell, mmm–”

You’re yelping when his long tongue draws a slow circle around the edge of that first ring of muscle, just barely pushing back against how your gummy walls are trying to hug him. To milk him for everything he has.

“S-such a tease-” you whine, fingers tangling into his cloudy white hair. Soft - the silken tresses smoothed over your palm, slotting between your digits when you pull his mouth roughly onto your pussy. “Jus’ want you on me- ngh!”

“Ohh ya can still t-talk easy, huh?” Gojo raises an amused brow from in-between your legs, that won’t be possible soon with how he’s going to have you. “Well then, don’t you dare beg me to go easy on you, girl.”

And he keeps the panties on - fuck, he keeps the panties on when mashing those ragged, rosy lips of his in a steamy make-out with your cunt. It’s as if he was breathing you in, so close that you could feel every clench of Gojo’s jaw, every grind of his chin into the very base of your pussy. 

“Sh-shitttt-” he spits, stray wisps of white covering his eyesight. Dragging you on his tongue through pure instinct. “Shit wait- ah you’re so fuckin’ so-”

Unable to even finish his sentences with that usually-sharp tongue of his. No, that tongue right now was too occupied with the steady, repetitive drag along your snug channel. Bullying into your sodden sensitive spots, thrusting back and forth back and forth back and-

And his fingers, oh those infamous fingers were straying back onto the sensitive nub of your clit. Drawing tight, tempestuous circles that have you keening at the dual stimulation, thighs stuttering to an embarrassed close. 

“Open.”

It’s just like before - and Gojo’s using that annoyingly baritone tone of his that hits you at your very core, that makes your omega snap open your legs for him.

Even you’re surprised at how pliant your body acts before your mind right now - and so is Gojo. though, his expression doesn’t show it, every bit of that feral animal that scared everyone out of this room not too long ago. 

“That’s it- that’s it–” he can’t hold back, hands glued to the globes of your ass to pin you still against his mouth. “Ha- so fuckin’ different when ya listen to me, so fucking sweet.” Breathing in deeply, “Were ya giving off this scent so Nanami could do this, too?” 

Thwack!

Another mocking slap against your clit - not enough to make you cry, but with just enough buzzing jujutsu to make your batting lashes teary - forces you to find your words. 

And fuck, Gojo swears there’s no sweeter music than the sound of your voice - especially when you’re moaning like that. 

Voice breaking into a whine, accompanied by a few raw clenches of your pussy around his furious tongue. “N-no fuck- don’t know-” your hips arch into the most perfect curve he’s ever seen. One that makes his mouth water, cock straining against his pants. “Toru- jus’ want you, wanna cum- wanna- want you so bad.”

Fuck - and who was he to not go along with each and every one of your pretty whims?

Pussydrunken already. He’d read about this - but he really had no clue how potent an omega in heat was, never having spent a rut with one. That little special occasion was always saved for you but, ah, that was a story for another time.

“M’gonna cum- hah- so- close-” 

Right now, he couldn’t think of anything other than how gorgeous you would look when you cum. How delicious - your sweetened scent raising up by a few notches, taking over his sentences. 

He feels his cock just throb at the mere thought.

Which is why Gojo’s pulling away with one final, sodden kiss on your pussy. You feel the curvaceous curl of his smirk against your cunt, and a deep, filthy inhale. 

“Nah.” he smiles a glistening smile up at you - grin glossed all over with a sheen of your sweet, sweet juices. And the rest of his face was almost-obscured with a curtain of his white bangs, but you still think you could peek the glow of his inhuman eyes through them. Powerful. “Don’ think you’re c-cumming anywhere other than on my knot first, pretty girl.”

And he’s so tall that Gojo’s blocking out the dim meeting room lights when he stands up - slow, smug, making you spend each passing second in such anticipation. 

Face expressionless - almost hypnotized - when he shrugs his shirt off. Lips parted into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded, heaving he slides his belt off almost lazily. 

It clatters! to the ground, and he’s sliding down his drenchingly wet boxers with it - leaving a gleaming trail of precum down the front of his toned pelvis. Letting his achy cock finally spring free, he hisses when it hits the too-cool air. 

And you do, too - though, for much different reasons. 

Because Gojo’s so unfairly big - fitting, for an alpha of his stature. Blushed the prettiest pink at his rotund head that matched his cheeks right now, gradiating down into creamy tufts of white at his thick base. Showing the starting of his knot swelling. It made you wonder whether he tasted as sweet as he smelled. So hard it looked painful, curving into a long, solid shaft that glides a wet smear across his washboard abs. It makes your omega just preen, rabid to have him inside you right now now now-

“Heh, impatient lil’ thing, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” Gojo huffs out in a heady bout of laughter. “Can practically feel yer omega ngh- calling out to me, is this what you want?”

You claw ferally at the milky display of his back, branding him in your own way. “Yes- please-” 

A sudden rip! makes you realize you still had your panties on - up until a few seconds ago, at least. Jostling him ever-so-slightly closer, you mewl when the rounded tip of his angry cock nudges against your pussy lips. Melding into a slight kiss that already makes him stream steaming hot ropes of precum.

And if you were in any better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed the way the light above flicker, fizzing with electricity just as much as you were right now. 

“Heheh- oh y-you made me like this, ya realize?” he chuckles out - but his voice didn’t show even a hint of humor. It’s like he was out of control, out of rationality with each languid drag in-between your folds. Babbling, “You threw me into- fuck fuck fuck this is all- your-”

Honestly, Gojo’s so utterly shocked he managed to grit even half that sentence out. 

Because every sloppy second has him grinding upwards in the tiniest of ruts into your sung cunt, tiny, mindless grinds that make a low ah! ah! ah! rip from his throat. 

“Open that mouth f’me, sweetness-”

As soon as you do, you’re feeling a thick, glossy stream of saliva slosh onto your lolling tongue. Mouth wrenched shut until you swallow - and you do. Happily. Filthily. 

That’s enough to make Gojo lose it. 

And he’s plunging headfirst into your toasty insides, shoving back that tiny bit of resistance before your elastic walls are milking him so well. Greedily swallowing up every one of his generous inches, and it only seemed like more was to come.

“Oh shit- ohhh sh-shit-” His eyes are rolling to the very back of his head, mouth hanging open, that tiny trickle of drool splatters onto your skin. 

“T-Toruu—” your cunt was addictive, and so were those moans of yours. Craning your neck upwards, “Kiss me, please.”

For a second, he’s leaning in - making it seem like he was about to smear that firmly placed gloss all over his lips onto yours. But Gojo only sneaks a peck at the corner of your mouth, then the other - and then one on the tip of your nose. 

“I will I will-” he’s musing, giggles bursting from his lips. “Once we’ve mated, can’t get too greedy at once now? Can I?”

But oh how his actions spoke otherwise, because Gojo’s powerful hips absolutely refused to stop until he was well and fully buried into the hot depths of your cunt. Sheathing himself in all your soppingly wet walls, the sheer tightness was enough for him to throw his head back, heavy balls squeezing. In and out in and out. 

“Ohhh fuck-” Two hands of his roughly attach themselves to your hips, pitching up your needy whines when he drools down your pussy even more thoroughly. “You sure do make it f-fuckin’ hard though-”

You whine when your ass hits against something bulging and hot, whirling those dazed eyes of yours down at the intrusion. 

“Shit-” you’re gasping, eyes widening. And the sheer awe in your eyes is enough to make him grow, blood pumping to every thick inch of his cock until he was expanding even girthier, molding your pliant walls to his size. “That’s your knot- I-I-”

“I-I-I-” Gojo mocks, in a voice octaves higher than usual. Fucking the rest of that sentence with a harsh roll of his hips, knocking bruisingly at your cervix. “C’mon now ah- tell me- you can t-tell me anything.” Kissing softly at your ear lobe, zaps of jujutsu making you jump. “M’your best friend, right?”

How ironic.

All you can gift him in response is a few soft whimpers that only make him wilder.

“Fuck!” you’re keening when another one of his slams leave you gasping for air, feeling like he was clashing into your very womb. Glissading a deep, wet glide of his fat, curved tip across your spongy cervix, his breath hitches at the slight recoil. “I want it-” 

Your words make him almost falter with his ruthless pace, and you take it upon yourself to just drag him down by his muscled shoulders. Until he was hunching over you, abs flexing against your front, “I want your hah- knot in m-”

And you can’t even finish the sentence - you don’t know if you want to.

Because just that syrupy jumble of words is enough to make Gojo Satoru snap. 

To cut you off with a rough growl, teeth bared at you, in a split-second he has you limp legs thrown over his shoulder. Biceps flexing in such a mouth-watering way when he makes them lock at the ankle, bending down, down, down into the meanest little mating press your joints would allow. 

The change in angle has you scrambling - has him scrambling to crash his leaky head into your swollen g-spot. Hitting that bulging bullseye with no regrets - over. And over. And over and over and-

“Oh, marry me sweetheart.” he’s panting into your mouth. His pulsing girth rummaging your insides so good, dragging every ridge and thumping vein on his shaft against your sweet spots. He was so big that you felt like your syrupy cunt had already forgotten what it felt like without him pounding into you. Suckling wetly at the corner of your lips, “Marry me marry me- oh, fuck- gonna give you m-my knot. Don’ think I could go on hah- l-living without ya, pretty.”

He was feral - eyes glowing a blazing blue, sparks of lightning bolting down his milky skin. And you swear with each speeding cadence of his, the lights flickered on and off. 

Every slippery smack of his tight, cum-filled balls has you seeing stars, yearning for the additional burning stretch of being plugged by his knot. 

You’re throwing your arms over his neck, reeling him in like he was your prey, though his hips were devouring you. “W-we’re not even dating and you want me t-to be your hngh-”

“-wife!” He kisses every inch of your face, down your neck, over that soft scent gland of yours - now so overstimulating his senses with your sweet scent that he’s almost forgotten what his own smelled like. Buzzes of electricity skimming down your skin with each touch. He’s groaning, “Be my wife- please- fuck, I need you to be my wife.” Planting an almost-french kiss on that one sweet spot. Once. twice. “M-my mate- sh-shit-”

And you already knew Gojo was close with the way his pretty eyes are almost fluttering shut, the way his hefty balls clamp. Twitching in desperation, his thickened base pumps in even deeper - harder. As if he was trying to rut every single inch into your clingy depths. 

Every single inch.

“Mhm–” you moan, feeling the staggering stretch of his even hotter cock shape your walls. “I wanna- wanna be your-”

You don’t even bother finishing your sentence - and neither does Gojo let you.

Because it only takes a few more sloppy jackhammers before he’s finally sinking his taut knot into you. The stretch is so insane you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, being plugged so suddenly full. 

And then you’re hurtling headfirst into your high - toes curling, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, your spine bowing so sluttily into his. And Gojo-

Oh, Gojo had his mouth sagging open the moment he felt his massive knot intrude against your silken sweet walls, stretching that snug channel around all of him. And he wishes he had the willpower to look down at the heavenly sight, he wishes he could do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your precious scent gland as he cums and cums and cums. 

The lights burst, shards deflecting off the limitless he’d coated over the both of you. 

Teeth breaking skin, metal tasting on his tongue, scents tangling together into one now.

You do your best to bite him back on his heady neck, breaking through Gojo’s milky skin to reveal a set of pretty pink indents.

Finally yours. Finally his. 

“O-oh, pretty girl–” he hiccups, voice cracking. Hips not moving even the tiniest second of momentum while he stuffs your tight pussy full of his potent seed. “My wife- my mate.”

And Gojo almost bawls when the tight lock of his knot prevents him from plunging into you as deeply and thoroughly as he wanted to right now. Sobbing down big fat tears that splatter! against your lips while he kisses your mind dizzy.

You could feel the syrupy slosh of his cum inside you with each one of his dragged-out grinds, milking your orgasm for as long as possible. Unmoving. Unapologetic in how he was spitting out such voluminous loads of milky white seed that overfilled you. 

“Shit- so much-” you’re whining, still clinging to him. And you don’t think he even hears you right now, mind blanking. “I feel so full, Toru-”

But you didn’t have to babble out those words for him to know, somehow, he just knew. Knew every single thing about you, but couldn’t dredge up the words to respond.

Too pussydrunken to do anything but bite you on your scent gland all over, he kisses a wet trail up to your lips, “Now you- really hafta m-marry me heh.”

Bang! 

Gojo’s fist comes crashing down on the rickety table - it’s too much for him.

Those ringing squelches and the way you were sucking out every single drop of his cum makes his sensitive shaft twitch. Tears blimping up into his eyes again, more and more velvety ribbons ooze out. “My wife- my wife my wife my wife- my mate-”

It’s just about all he can say - like a mantra. Over and over against your lips, until the peaks of your pleasure turn into mere tingles, until Gojo’s own knot is softening down. Slightly.

Just enough that he can pull out-

“Toru, what-”

“Shhh, pretty girl-” He’s kissing your puffed-up clit with another spank from his trembly fingers, and then an actual kiss. Mouth slotting over the mess he’s made below. Grazing all over like a creamy gloss. Filthy. “Rut’s just started.”

His ravenous tongue drags out your overstimulated high, and you’re clinging onto a lock of his snowy hair for dear life. 

“Please-” you beg, voice shot. You don’t even know what you were begging for, but god was Gojo Satoru happy to let himself be used. “Please please please, Toru-”

Oh, his fingers tighten on your thighs - imprinting neat patterns of crescents. Animalistic, in how Gojo just drags your twitchy body forwards.

His eyes were drooping shut, gaze crazed - frantic where he looked you right in the eyes from down below. Head craning to ram his stretchy tongue even deeper, quirking up deftly like he’s wanting to bruise his taste buds along your walls. 

Slurping at and collecting the creamy mess on his tongue - only to spit it back into your sloppy hole. Messy. 

Even with the dark, lightless room - with only those stray sparks of power to accompany you two - such loud squelches echo across his own ears. And just by the noise Gojo could tell how wet you were - as if you weren’t drooling over the lower half of his face, up to his cheekbones, already. 

Sticking to your inner thighs in an obscene drip! drip! drip!

It’s so shameful and you love it. 

And you love that you’re so cockdrunken that you aren’t even sure when you’re cumming - if you’re cumming. Whether those sudden crashes of pleasure were because of your nth orgasm tonight, or because of the way Gojo kisses you with another thwack!

Adrenaline and electricity coursing through your veins, ears thundering with your rapid pulse. Oh god, you never knew a heat could feel this good - this maddening. 

You moan, and he’s eagerly lapping up every sweet bead of slick you have to offer, like a man that hasn’t had an ounce of water in weeks. Brows furrowed, jaw sagging open-

“Shit shit shit-” he’s rasping out, and the very slide of his fingers across your skin sends waves of powerful jujutsu - somehow bunching at your clit just right. “M’cumming- m- m’still cumming fuck- won’t- stop-”

Just as soon as your orgasm is ending, Gojo’s is just starting. Like he’d been holding back on this from the moment he’d started eating out your overspilling pussy - happily. 

And exactly on time, too, because you barely even have the time to catch your breath before Gojo’s standing on his two unsteady feet. Just splitting you open on all of his red, raw inches - uncaring for your little mewls and those tears. 

Because you were sucking him up madly. 

Spearheading his swollen cock into you like he was trying to fuck another orgasm out of you. His strokes are long, harsh, showing off all the years of strength he built up boasting the title of the strongest. 

And this hastily put-together mating press has his cum just overspilling out of you by now, dribbling down in wet globs that made you wonder how much more he could fill you up. It seeps in a white circle underneath your ass, slicking you back and forth along the wood at each harsh ram. 

Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Made me this- hngh- this way, y’know?” he spits into your mouth - followed by a slurred string of swears. Every time his heftily smacking balls clench, you could feel the table creak under pressure. “Sat next to me with that fucking skirt- smelling so fucking- ngh- good- do you even know how delicious ya are?”

You can’t answer - because he’s back to squeezing in his staggering knot into you. Sparks exploding out from the corner of his scrunched-up eyes, forehead knocking into yours.

Gojo kisses you like he couldn’t get enough, letting you taste all the sin from just before. 

“Three weeks away, huh?” That accusatory little inflection in his words isn’t lost on you, only growing stronger and stronger as his staccato grows sloppier. “Have your- hah- heat in three weeks and fuck- I could just- smell it on you-”

It’s incredible. Sliding your frenzied bodies across on another, stinging with skin-on-skin and how your gooey walls constricted around him.

“Showing off in that scent and that skirt-” His eyes are almost bulging out of his head now, hips stuttering like just the very thought of that pile of fabric at the corner of the room drove him mad. “-fuck that skirt- always fuckin’ hated it. Hated how Nanami loves hngh- it. Made me lose fucking control a-and you know what?”

One of his hands curls around your throat now, the other taking hold of your left - kissing your ring finger pointedly. “I’ll do it all over again if it means I’d get to have ya like this, my mate.”

And just then he’s coating your melty insides in a creamy sheen, that overworked divot right at the end of his dick was firmly pressed up against your g-spot. Plugging you with his knot, and you swear you could see a little inflation forming where he was filling you to your limits. 

Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop until his body practically forced him.

Gojo’s biting down hard exactly over those deep indents on your scent glands when his gushing spurts of seed turn into almost-painful blanks. 

Over and over, he’s cumming nothing. 

“L-love you, Toru-” you’re babbling out, reeling him in to peck the corners of his smirking mouth. 

Utterly fucked out of your mind enough that you don’t even register the loud boom! from somewhere in the distant grounds of Jujutsu Tech. Barely even care that the overpriced meeting table is now sagging on one side, just about in splinters. 

“Aww, m-my c-cockdrunk baby–” he titters shakily into your glossed-pout. “Love you, too, always have always- will-”  Patting the bulge on your stomach, before kissing you gently, “Ever since I th-threw ya into heat the ngh- first time ya met me.”

Oh. 

And later, you’ll learn that that almost-deafening boom was the generator for Jujutsu Tech, mysteriously bursting after a sudden spike in atomic pressure in the surrounding area. You’ll find out that every piece of furniture in the surrounding buildings had moved about six inches in your direction, and that the now-ruined table was an irreplaceable heirloom.

But for now, all you register is soft. 

Warm. 

With a gasp you realize you’re in a bedroom - Gojo’s bedroom.

“Did- did you teleport-”

“Mhm-” he pants, and in the dim lighting you could spot his leering grin. Satisfied. Pussydrunken. And you could feel his knot swell up hotly, halfway through to its previous size. 

You sputter, trying so desperately to find the words. Difficult, when Gojo still had you wrapped around his thick cock, all the way up to his fat, drenched base. Swiveling his cock in slow, sultry grinds for how much he couldn’t ram exactly how he wanted to right now. “Wh-why didn’t you do this before–?”

“Because-” he licks over his mating mark on you. “-wanted to show off what animals we were.” His grin grows wider, as does his tired cock. And that dangling blindfold around his neck ends up around your wrists, tying you up pliantly for him. “What animals we will be.”

---

Right now, all Nanami can think about is you you you- Yet,he doesn’t expect to see you for about the next week. Or, at least, that’s the hopeful side of him - knowing Gojo, and the state he’d left the meeting room in, he won’t see you again for a month. 

Possibly not walking.

Perhaps, that’s for the best. Looking down at his swollen, throbbing cock - one fist wrapped around its thick base, the other around his shaky phone, he clicks on that familiar app. 

Shit, his rut is near. Now, actually. 

Nanami sighs, it’s hard pretending not to be animals.

A/N. Was soooo giggling writing about how the table was some heirloom.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tonycries]

TOPIA TWINS - G.S.

Synopsis. When both Gojo twins want you for Valentine’s Day, do you: A. Choose the frat boy extraordinaire you’re in a messy situationship with. B. Choose the cute nerd that tutors you but is too afraid to confess. C. Choose both of the above.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader (x Gojo Satoya)

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, GOJO TWINS, nerd!Gojo, frat boy!Gojo, college AU, they both want you, Iove triangles, yearning Gojo(s), tutoring, FWB situations, parties, frat!Gojo is slightly toxic, named twin, fights (over you), Valentine’s Day, getting them BOTH, oraI (f + m), handj’s, fírst times (nerd!Gojo), they do you but NOT each other (pls), spítting, chokíng, manhandIing, breath pIay, p talking, p sIapping, frat!Gojo is MEAN, TONGUE PlERCINGS, possessive, cIit bíting, cervíx smoochin, vírginíty Ioss (nerd!Gojo), prem. ejac, SAME DAMN TIME, heavy overstím, fuIl neIsons, fighting over you during it, DP, anaI, SAAAAAME DAMN TIME, science Ianguage, nerd!Gojo’s SENSITIVE, big stretches, big finishes, creampíes, cùmpIay, surprise at the end, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 14.5k

A/N. Y’ALL HAVE BEEN BEGGING FOR THIIIIIIIS- inspired by this art by the absolutely amazingly talented @/toriiartz_ + all the Iovely comments (Tonycries is listening…)

Gojo Satoru and Gojo Satoya.

The Sun and the Moon. The storm and the morning dew. The sweetness of spring flowers and the burning hand of summer skies—many things could be said about the Gojo twins.

Perhaps not everything so poetic: to most, they were those infamously handsome set of twins that sauntered about campus as if paid to be there (and to your left—keep your eyes peeled and you might just catch a flash of white hair). Of course, that campus tour would have to oscillate between libraries and frat parties at a worrying rate…

To others, they were the valedictorian of the Physics Department and the President of Delta Jujutsu Pi. To others, the region’s best Digimon player and the region’s best ragers. 

Maybe someone could convince Gojo Satoru to do some research on how two men with the exact same face could be so different from one another?

But to you, they were your tutor and…the one you were currently in bed with-

“Oh…fuck, that was good.” Gojo Satoya hisses, pulling out of you with the loudest squelch. 

You could feel the slick driiiibblin’ down your inner thighs. And he’s gnawing down on his pinkish lower lip- wishing to hear the music as he surges upwards n’ swirls that even pinker tip around your entrance.

Around and around.

You’re shaking as he does so, and he’s only pulling your hips further down against his. 

“Just a little more f’me, baby.” Long fingers tightening at your waist, Satoya ruts his toned torso off of the bed. His pale lashes flutter at the sensation of you trying to clench, gracing you with such a smug smile that you’ve grown to both love and get irritated by.

You’re been riding him for what seemed like hours by now- and you’re that half his fraternity brothers were ready to break down the door with noise complaints.

Then again, they were likely used to this.

Because Gojo Satoya was always just so insatiable with you.

It’s been a few months since you’d been fucking Satoya - just an on and off little rendezvous that had started one night at one of his own parties. One of the many, many parties you’d dragged your roommates to. 

Delta Jujutsu Pi was known for them. And according to the (many—you’d long since learned not to underestimate his popularity) personal recounts and Instagram stories, one minute you’d been challenging the frat president to beer pong but with vodka- and the next you both had been pressed against the mansion’s wall. Lips on each other’s. 

When you’d woken up the next morning, it was to a pounding headache and Satoya’s steady heartbeat. Arm cushioned underneath your head. Leg thrown over his waist.

No clothes.

The two of you had gasped- straight into a kiss which tasted faintly like last night’s berry punch bowl.

And what was meant to be a one-night stand turned into exchanging numbers, turned into meeting up the next weekend, turned into hanging out several times a week and meeting each other’s friends, turned into a long and dragged out…something of which a ‘relationship’ was not something you’d use to describe it. It was many things but not that.

It was like the thick and cloying sweetness of the punch bowl that night, but also the bitter taste of vodka-jealousy that shot through whenever Satoya winked back at someone else.

You knew you had no right to be jealous- it’s not as if the two of you were anything committed. No expectations. No strings attached, right? 

But then again, that didn’t stop the lines from blurring. It didn’t stop you from going out on dates with other men in retaliation, and it didn’t stop him from blowing your phone up all night whenever you did. You always did unmute him by the end of those nights, however, if only to complain about your latest date. 

It didn’t stop him from throwing those parties he was notorious for and inviting everyone he knew and their sister- flirtations galore. But it also didn’t stop him from coming right back to you—time and time again, no matter how much you blocked and swore at him.

Didn’t stop a single thing.

Throughout it all, you’d say that the only silver lining was getting to know Gojo Satoru more in-depth. 

Of course, knowing that the two were related, you’d coaxed his number out of Satoya to convince Satoru to tutor you. Which, expectedly, had turned into more of a friendship—one that was only sweetened by how openly you gawked at the man during your tutoring sessions.

That was your introduction to both brothers- worlds apart from one another.

The magnetic and heart-racing Gojo Satoya, the shy and studious Gojo Satoru. The older one by two minutes and the younger one. 

The messy one and the one who’d been here to witness just how messy the latter was.

In more ways than one.

Eventually, Satoya was drawing the cutest lil’ hearts against your clit. That blushing tip of his cock moving ‘round and ‘round that sensitive spot, he hums at the smears of sheen he’s making—“Maybe we should go again…”

“Maybe you should let me go to class now.” You’re countering back.

His smile grows wider, “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Toya-” Your breath hitches, n’ you’re pushing back on his toned chest. It was just so defined from all those hours he spent at practice, and you’re taking more than a bit of pleasure feeling his pectorals. “-make me miss one of Professor Yaga’s lectures again and I’ll be referring him to you.”

Satoya shudders. “That man hates me.”

“Can’t imagine why…” You thought of all the classes he’d missed for matches- and perhaps being a loudmouth doesn’t help, either.

With the haunting thought of Yaga in his mind, Satoya lets you extract yourself from his arms and head to the bathroom to freshen up. By the time you’re heading back, he’d already tied-off the condom and chucked it in the bin, in the process of pulling on his fraternity-merchandise boxers (why did they even make those?)

He’s jumping in bed with you once you’re laying back down. Tugging his arms ‘round you—no one would ever believe it, but Gojo Satoya was a cuddler after sex.

The white-haired man whispers about everything and nothing as you two relax.

“Oh yeah- that reminds me.” He hums at some point, lifting his head up just a little from the crook of your neck. “I’m having a party this weekend, you should come.”

“This weekend?” It wasn’t a surprise that the frat was throwing yet another rager- and Satoya didn’t really have to ask you, either. He knew that you’d show up anyway. More of a formality than anything, as if he wouldn’t just sulk in a corner if you didn’t end up coming- before taking over the dance floor once Kendrick Lamar came on, of course.

Satoya nods sluggishly, the room still thick with sex.

But you’re turning to face him with a raised brow. “Like- this weekend?” He’s climbing up onto his elbows in confusion at your tone. “Toya, it’s Valentine’s weekend.”

“Oh.”

“You seriously didn’t know?”

“Oh.” 

He runs a hand through his rumpled white hair. “So that’s why chicks n’ bros have been giving me chocolate all week- and here I thought I just got extra handsome.”

He pauses.

“Have I gotten extra hands-”

“Satoya.”

“Alright alright.” Satoya raises his hands in surrender, letting his head fall back onto the pink-cased pillows. “So uh…”

It was obvious when he didn’t know what to do with what you were throwing - hints often didn’t work on Gojo Satoya. Which was interesting to find out, because you’d always assumed that Satoru would be the oblivious one (and to a large extent, he was). But a sheer lack of committed relationships and an overt surplus of flirtations meant Satoya wouldn’t understand a hint even if you banged him upside the head with one—he’d merely look up at the sky and wonder whether it was hailing. 

Though that’s not to say that he wasn’t intelligent - certainly not, you’ve witnessed his pre-tournament planning, the way he’d lead your university team, the NBA drafter that reportedly had an eye on him, how he managed good scores on most exams despite rarely attending class. 

No, Gojo Satoya was just…so good at giving hints that it seemed to have balanced out by not being to receive them—yours, at least. Strangely enough, he seemed to never get your subtlety. 

All but yours.

As if he couldn’t see, as if he saw but couldn’t believe.

And so you sigh. “No- no, that’s my mistake. I just assumed we’d be doing something for Valentine’s Day.” 

“…Girl, the party?”

“Nevermind.”

And as Satoya launches into yet another monologue - about his most recent training regiment and the upcoming frat rush - you’re reaching over to the bedside cabinet. Grabbing your phone, it takes a few taps for you to interrupt the white-haired man-

“Actually, Toya—” Catching his attention. “I might not be able to make it to the party. Or at least not all of it.”

He sits up urgently, “Huh? But why-”

“Plans.” 

“With what bastard-”

“That bastard is your brother.” And as his jaw drops, you’re turning your phone screen to flash the conversation at him. Satoya’s blue eyes narrow as he reads onwards-

You: psssssssst

Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): ?

You: do you have any plans for valentine’s day?

You: wanna hang out?

Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): ???!!!11??1!111!!??!?!

Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): My apologies.

Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): Typo.

Nerd-jo (Gojo brother #2): But yes, I would be delighted to spend time with you.

Just about the gist of it-

“—and I haven’t spent time with Satoru in a bit now so-” You were saying—and he knows, by the way. These days, Satoya had been intentionally meeting you during times he knew that his busybody brother was free from the clutches of his damn books. Just like he knew that Satoru had been meeting you during the times that Satoya had been out from practice.

‘Tutoring’ his ass- tutoring didn’t mean Satoru needed to have you over. To his apartment.

To the place mere feet away from where he knew his brother stuffed a hoodie you’d left behind underneath his pillow.

Fucking tutoring-

“Sure thing. Have fun.” Metal in his tone. Metal in his gaze locked in on you—he’s pushing your phone down to the mattress and leaning over to kiss you. Tongue piercing scraping the edge of your lips- “But just know that I’ll be a hell of a lot more fun than my brother.”

.

.

.

It’s Valentine’s Day when the sudden slam! thunders across the library.

Gojo Satoya with chest puffed out in his letterman jacket, with his forearm banged down on one of the tables. He leans over the polished mahogany and stares straight into the eyes of a man that looked like his mirror image.

White hair.

Blue eyes.

Those same unfairly pretty features- one of which was twisted into a scowl. And the other—nothing but cool indifference.

Gojo Satoru arches a stark white brow and meets his brother’s eyes. “Can I help you?”

“You can help me by fucking off-” Satoya spits. And had they been anyone else, then the gapes and gasps and stares - even the stray camera that was peeking out - would have unnerved them. But the Gojo twins were used to the attention by now.

The only difference was that where one basked in it, the other shunned away from it.

And though the tips of Satoru’s ears flush bright red—he never was the type to back down from his brother. Satoru’s jaw clenches, “Though you may be known for such philandering proclivities, I can assure you that I am not much the same.”

“And I can assure you that my fist will meet your ugly face-”

“We have the same face.”

“-if you don’t call off that date you have with my girl.” Satoya pants out. Breathless with fury. 

Though there was a smile on his face- and he has the audacity to turn and wave - to fucking wave - at some of the gawking on-lookers. Shooting that charming Gojo smile that was bound to make them think this was an act of brotherly jest.

It makes the other man perk up. 

“Whose girl?” Satoru asks. 

Satoya freezes. “Huh?”

But his younger brother cocks his head, almost as though he’d just found the answer to a particularly tricky question. “Whose girl?”

The frat president rears back. Without warning, he reaches out and grasps at the lapels of the other’s stupid Star Wars hoodies—“You heard what I said.” Glower permanent on his face, “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Satoru narrows his eyes, glaring at the man through his glasses. “Don’t have enough of a brain to figure it out yourself?”

“I’ll tell you what I do have…” Smile wicked. Leaning into whisper, “And it’s something that you won’t stick in her even in your wildest fuckin’ dreams-”

“You fucking-”

“Ahem.”

A cough.

Not the annoying, grating voice of his brother (thought both the brothers).

But rather…something sweeter. Softer. Stern in a way that made both their cocks prick up just a tad-

They’re snapping their heads over to stare at you—you with your eyes narrowed, and your foot tapping. They both feel a lurch in their stomach as they wonder just how long you’d been standing there - just how much you’d heard.

They both gulp.

Your gaze takes its time travelling up the vision before you: the older brother with his fingers dug into the other’s hoodie, the younger brother with his fists clenched as though he was about to punch the other. Both their forearms pop with veins that decorate their muscles- even Satoru with his bulky frame covered in his soft clothes. “Gojo Satoya…” 

The man in question plasters a smile across his face, “Yes, baby?”

“Let go of him-”

His fingers unclench.

Satoru is slumping onto his chair.

Satoya turns around and starts walking to you in an instant- “Baby, what are you doing here~?”

“Tutoring, because someone made me miss another one of Yaga’s classes.” Holding up your bag in emphasis, and at least Satoya has the decency to look sheepish. 

“Aw, you know m’sorry about that.” He answers, sounding utterly unapologetic.

“Right…” Not that you believed him a single bit. Your narrowed gaze drifts past him and ends up resting on the slightly-ruffled man sitting at the table. “What are you even doing here? I didn’t think you knew the way to the library.”

“Hey!”

In the slight distance, Satoru stifles a laugh.

Satoya whips behind to glare at him- before turning back to you. “Just ah- you know, extending the invite to my party tonight.” And before you could interrogate him on why exactly an invitation constituted of having one’s hand at one’s brother’s throat—he’s turning to the little audience you’d gathered and yelling out. “And you fuckers are invited as well.”

The cheers are drowning out your questions.

“Toya- what-”

“Mmmm—” Before you’re getting cut off by his mouth on yours. Tongue piercing cold. “That new lip gloss of yours tastes good, baby.”

But how strange it was that once he’s breaking away from the slightly-heated kiss, you find Satoya’s eyes on none other than his own brother. Staring at the expressionless man as he claims your lips as his own.

His own.

Satoya leaves the library with a smack on your ass. 

And you’re left off-kilter by the whole ordeal, wobbling on weakened legs to the chair opposite Gojo Satoru. Head down. Books open. Fingers twitching ever-so-slightly. There was a strange air about him, as unpiercing as concrete, that reminded you of however Satoru was when he was taking a particularly tough exam. He doesn’t meet your eyes as you take your seat before him, pulling out your books, your laptop, your excuses.

The chair screeches much too loud in the awed library. 

“Honestly, I don’t know what’s the matter with him.” You’re sighing, “He’s been strange all week.”

Satoru doesn’t answer, but you continue.

“And he knows that I have that thing with you tonight- he knows that but he still keeps insisting I go to that damn party.”

He still doesn’t say a word.

“I’m not going, of course.” You start to open one of your notebooks, “I promised I’d spend time with you, Satoru. It’s just so calming to be with you—”

In his peripheral vision, he can see you start to rub your temples. And he can’t help but jolt—he would never make you feel like that.

And maybe that’s what makes Gojo Satoru lurch up from his seat and kiss you.

Kiss you.

Soft.

Fleeting.

Barely even a graze- his face burns the prettiest sunset pink. Hot enough that he’s sure steam emerges from his parietal bone, that his eyes tear up, that he feels feverish. Something inexplicable bubbles up from all the way deeeep within his core, and it expels as a few wobbly apologies murmured against your lips.

Before you’re grabbing ahold of his chin n’ tugging him to you.

“Th-that was my first kiss…” He whispers.

You smile.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoya’s party would be in full swing by now.

You’ve found that they usually peaked after midnight, with most of the fraternities joining and the music concocting into one booming heartbeat. The pulse of youth. It shook the walls of the Delta Jujutsu Pi mansion, it seeped into your very circulatory system and left Satoya’s parties addictive—it would have you in his bed by the end of the night, without fail.

But time spent with Satoru was the exact opposite.

In the best way.

Even sitting next to Gojo Satoru had his warmth seeping into every particle of your being, and it left you buzzing with his soothing energy. Like dipping into a hot spring. Like taking a loooong nap during a scalding summer.

It was the same relaxing sort of feeling after a sip of wine. 

Like you could speak about anything and everything with him. Like you could make as many mistakes in his presence as you liked. And it wouldn’t matter—he would still wobble out that familiar, crooked smile. 

It seemed as though the more of those stern, sterile layers you cracked through- the more you wanted to surge through even more. With much more gusto than Satoru would argue that you put in during your tutoring sessions, you admit (but what he doesn’t know is that you might just…organize a few more than you actually needed). Just a few more.

Just to see him.

And Satoru was smart, you had a nagging feeling that he knew. But he let you stumble your way through your notes anyway.

He left you drunk on the proximity of him, while his brother left you exhilarated.

You suppose you had Satoya to thank for that.

Because he was the only reason you actually encountered Satoru. Just one encounter before you’d actually bothered him into giving his phone number, prompting your tutoring sessions.

Before, you’d only seen Satoru in a blur of white hair n’ Pokemon hoodies- racing about from class to class.

He was always the first - both to class, and to the top of the grades list.

The stark opposite of his brother, who’d gotten into Tokyo Jujutsu University on a basketball scholarship. Satoru had three papers published under Nature, several student lectures under his belt, and a dorm lined with more trophies than atomic specks of dust. It was also agreed-upon by most in the department that he’d been picked personally by JAXA to work there the second he graduated.

And you’d always assumed that the man would be the uptight type - most people with so many accomplishments would be so. Though his brother, Satoya, with his equally impressive athletic accolades—it’d still been a surprise to find that Gojo Satoru was rather…shy.

He’d blushed furiously the first time he’d met you - in the unfortunate circumstance of walking inside Satoya’s room without knocking. Right when his brother had his head between your legs.

Though Satoya had laughed himself hoarse, it’d taken you forty-five minutes to get the bespectacled man to stop apologizing to you. And then only five to convince him that no- you weren’t dating his brother.

You remember the glare that Satoru had leveled at him then, pushing up his bangs to help it. “Figures.” He’d scoffed, whilst Satoya had calmed down just enough to stop his snickers. “He wouldn’t have been able to woo you like that anyway-”

“Woo? Woo—telling me about wooing-” Satoya had dramatically flailed into Satoru’s arms then, hand at his chest. “Dost thou knoweth anything about bagging the baddie? And here I thoughteth thou wast a virgin-”

“Sh-shut up—!” He’d thrown Satoya off, eyes flickering urgently between you and his brother. And it wasn’t long before the last you’re seeing of the blushing, babbling mess of Satoru was a stomp towards the door.

The slam of it.

Before it’s opened again just a crack-

“And in Shakespearean terms, I would technically be a maiden!”

You giggle just thinking about it.

And it makes the man in question look over with a quirked brow, sweater matching the same shade of pastel pink that he blushes. “S-sorry, I’m probably boring you-”

“Not at all.” You’re cutting him off in an instant. Fervently shaking your head, you join Satoru down upon his bedroom floor—carefully avoiding the blocks and pinches of Lego that were scattered around him like a blood spatter. It had been a slow, almost strangely sensual night - he’d invited you to his apartment where he’d cooked dinner for you.

A traditional Japanese course of dishes that he’d learned from his mother, he told you. Topped off ice cream homemade through the principle of freezing point depression.

He’d planned to make a strawberry shortcake, he said. But it seems in his frenzy to make everything perfect, he’d lost track of time and ended up with sweet-smelling char—sure, you’d come over to hangout with Satoru before. But to hangout on Valentine’s Day…

This was territory uncharted for Gojo Satoru.

Hell, he’d had his first kiss just the other day.

And so you’d been led inside his apartment- now a wonderland of the sweetest fairy lights and crooning tunes playing from one corner of the space. There, Satoru was the perfect gentleman—giving his arm out to walk you the mere few meters to the decorated dining table, tucking in your chair, plating his creations for you. 

Made just how you liked them. How did he even remember?

It was a wonder to Satoru himself how he didn’t bumble or trip over his own two feet. And before long, the two of you had finished dinner and numerous conversations- carrying them over inside his bedroom.

Where he’d…pulled out a brand-new Lego set and gotten to work on it.

You’d found it more interesting to watch him - that focused furrow between his brows, the way his tongue stuck out ever-so-slightly - from the foot of his mattress. Unable to catch a glimpse of the box before Gojo stuffed it underneath his bed, you were only left to wonder just what it was he was building with so many reds and pinks.

He’s staring up at you unsurely now, and you insist. “I wanna see you build this, Satoru.”

“Are you sure?” He lets the long green spindle drop from his hands. Tugging down on the thick sleeves of his sweater, “I know that Toya has his party tonight and I p-promise I won’t be upset if you wanted to go there instead, y’know?”

“But I decided I’d spend Valentine’s Day with you.” You insist, “And spend Valentine’s Day with you—I will. I don’t need any party.”

“But-”

“Satoru.”

He’s giggling shyly to himself. 

He takes the half-built piece of Lego in his hand and gets back to work on it—and you find yourself inching even closer to him. Knees pressing against crossed knees. Shoulders against shoulders. 

“What are you building, by the way?” You ask. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lego pieces like that…”

Concentrating on the miniature pieces through his ivory bangs. “You’ll see, sweetheart.”

And you don’t know whether it’s the smile on his lips, the dimple at the end of his grin, or that little pet name he’d given you—sweetheart—that made your heart race. Feeling your heart flip in that small but noticeable way it did whenever Satoya was around. Both of them? Whatever will you do with yourself.

It isn’t long before Satoru’s Legos start to form a clearer picture, and he’s working nimbly with the pieces.

In just a few minutes he has his body hunched- partially obscuring your view from the final touches to his creation. And soon enough, he’s pushing his glasses up his nosebridge, leaning back and thrusting out a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers you’ve ever seen. Plumes of rose and red and creamy white.

Little ferns on the side. Little hearts in the centers of his daisies. 

He flushes fever-red as you take them from him. “F-for you.”

Satoru’s tone breaks at his confession.

“Satoru, they’re…” You’re breathless. The tip of your finger runs down the delicate petals that he’d spent time assembling, “I-I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s for you.” He repeats, slightly firmer this time. “It was always for you.”

You’re snapping your head up to meet his determined blue eyes. So intense that they almost sparkled- “What do you…”

“Everything I do is for you—and that’s hard when I’ve always…” Satoru cuts himself off short. Slightly shaking his head, “But you deserve better than him.”

“Satoya?”

“Yes—” Breathed out as if he’d been wanting to say this for forever. “It’s hard when you look at my brother like…that- and I know that this isn’t my place. I know that this isn’t right of me to say. I know that this is selfish of me to request, but if you could just see…”

“See?”

“See that you deserve better than him.” His hands clasp your own around the ever-lasting stems. “And that- this isn’t fair of me to tell you let alone ask…but if you could just see that I—”

“What- that yer fucking shit at confessions?”

But of course, who else would it be but Gojo Satoya?

Pushing Satoru’s bedroom door further open and waltzing into the space- his towering frame almost seemed too large for the small space, almost left you breathless. Even though you knew that there wasn’t much of a height difference between the two-

Satoya’s hand on your wrist is instant. He bends down to meet eye-level with his brother on the floor, “Honestly, little brother, I would’ve had more respect for you if I’d walked in here and you were fuckin’ my girl right now.” He tugs you to his chest. “But here you got to her before me.”

“Feels good to be first, older brother.”

Suddenly they’re both on their feet - and so are you. Pressed between them—attempting to push away the two brothers from each other. From Satoya spitting, “That was supposed to be me giving those flowers to her- you knew. You fucking knew-”

“You thought she’d wait around forever?” Satoru crosses his arms. “And what were you doing on Valentine’s Day, huh?”

“Oh, grow up-”

“You grow up. While you were throwing one of your damn parties I-”

“I cancelled that damn party.”

That makes everyone pause.

And Satoya continues. He was looking right at you now- “You think there’d be anything to celebrate if you aren’t there beside me?” 

And you can’t help but notice that there’s something slightly more…tender in Satoya’s tone. Something slightly more vulnerable- almost broken. There’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes him look younger, and it makes you squirm.

Something that Satoru’s sharp eyes pinpoint instantly- and he’s reaching out to tug you to him. This time being wrenched from his brother’s grasp and to you, “You can’t do that- you can’t just barge in here and try to disrupt what I’ve been wanting to do for so long—”

“And you think I haven’t?”

“What makes you think-”

“I knew her first-”

“I knew I loved her longer-”

“I know I loved her better-”

Satoru hisses. Pointing an accusing finger at the other man, “Says the man without the balls to even confess.” 

“Says the damn virgin who only wishes he could touch her.” Satoya’s voice grows louder. He takes a step closer, and Satoru doesn’t back down. “Don’t act so high and mighty when you and I both know about the hoodie underneath-”

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

“Can you both shut the fuck up?!”

Your exasperated tone breaks through the argument- leaving the room ringing with silence thereafter.

And so you finally say your piece—“You guys…” Massaging your throbbing temples, the Lego bouquet was still in your hands- and you’re just now realizing that the t-shirt you’d been wearing was Satoya’s. Both of them on you. Around you. “How about we solve this like the civilized adults that we are?”

Satoya scoffs, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “Tch- yeah, and how do you suppose that?”

“Though I’d be more than happy to hear you out, sweetheart, I can’t promise to conduct myself according to such methodology.”

And so you tell them.

And the silence after is deafening—

“You want us to what-”

“Anatomically, is that even-”

“No way.” Satoya stabs a finger at his brother. “I don’t wanna see this fucker’s two-inch-”

“Mine’s likely bigger than yours-”

“Fucking right-”

“Want to bet?”

It’s only a few minutes later before both brothers have their hands on you- have their mouths dragging down your neck. From the front, from behind. One of them kissing down your spine. One of them nibblin’ on your collarbone—and you can only flutter your eyes closed and fucking moan at the sensation.

Two hot, needy mouths on you.

All over you.

Someone - it must be Satoru - leans his head down and captures your mouth as his own. He lavishes the soft edge of his tongue between your wettened crevice, and gaaasps as you’re opening your mouth for him.

Clearly never having kissed anyone so deeply- anyone like this at all—he whimpers as he’s shyly meeting your tastebuds with his. “S-sweetheart-”

“Oh, lemme show ya how it’s done.” Physically pushing his brother away with a hand on his face- Satoya cranes his neck from behind you. A hand clasping your throat and tuggin’ you to meet his ravenous lips—“This is how you kiss a girl.”

And before he’s smoochin’ you, he purses his lips and spits a great dollop of saliva that falls gently into your maw. 

Sloppy.

Satoya barely spends the time wipin’ the excess splatter away before he’s roughly shoving his tongue inside. Swirling his textured tastebuds across every single inch of you—letting his curvaceous tip tickle the back of your throat. 

Whenever Satoya kissed you, it almost felt as if he was fucking you with his tongue.

Again and again. And his wet muscle scrapes the sides of your mouth as he’s jostling it back and forth- leaving you weak in the knees.

“See?” He scoffs at his younger brother. “Gotta kiss her till she’s stupid.”

“How uncouth.” Satoru pushes his glasses up. “Let me try.”

And then the other twin takes over- how dizzying it was to have a man with the same features, but with such different mannerisms. Satoya relentlessly leaves half-moon nail marks on your skin when he sets you free, but Satoru leans in and cups your face like a delicacy—even as his brother scoffs at the act.

“She likes being fucked dirty, lemme tell you.”

Satoya’s lewd remark is lost to the way that Satoru purses his pretty plump lips and spits—

More like drools.

A lecherous stream of spittle that ends up fallin’ onto your tastebuds- and he watches with widened eyes as you take it all in. All of it. Throat bobbing as it hits every orifice, Satoru feels it deep down in his cock once you tilt your head back and swallow-

Looking straight into both their eyes as you do.

“O-oh my-”

“Fuck.”

“I think m’gonna cum just from that.”

Satoya looks at Satoru, and they exchange a silent conversation with their gaze. Both murky blue-eyed and narrowed down at you- you’re given absolutely no warning before you’re being scooped up in a tangle of their strong arms. Satoya on your waist. Satoru cushioning your head.

They’re sprawling you out on Satoru’s bed and barely letting you hit the second bounce before they’re on you-

“Let me.”

“I hardly think that’s-”

“And which one of us does this pretty pussy like better?” Satoya pretends to cup his ear and listen - not to you, not to his brother. He’s listening to the drenched in-betweens of your legs, where if you press your thighs together then it lets out a faint squelch! “Exactly.”

Grumbling, Satoru decides to let Satoya have the bed space between your thighs.

The mattress dips where you needed them the most, and you’re feeling hot breath against your cunt. Scorching. Simmering. Taking your attention for the slightest second before you peer up at Satoru- smiling at the pouty man.

Wordlessly, you’re beckoning him with your hand.

And he seems to startle- before following your every word. Your every action. Your every syllable.

Gojo Satoru thinks he would kill a man just to have you look at him like this—always. 

With your lashes fluttering up at him as he nears, with your fingertips eager to touch him- it feels like torture as soon as he’s near enough for you to play with his drawstrings. Your fingers curving into the soft cotton of his sweatpants, your palm skidding down the looooong cylindrical print of his dick. It was just so long and thick that it made you gape.

That it made your mouth water.

That it made your digits dip just below the hemline of Satoru’s grey sweatpants-

And Satoya - gruff at the attention you were drowning his brother in - decides to then drown himself in your wet pussy—he’s like a man starved. Barely leaving enough time to shove apart your legs, barely leaving enough time to push your panties to the side-

In fact, he doesn’t push your panties to the side before licking up your entrance.

Feeling for that cute vertical line of your slit through the drenched fabric. Satoya was lapping and tuggin’ apart both the underwear and your pussylips.

Lavishing just a flick of attention down your clit before he dives into your role.

Rough. Ruthless.

Rarely wasting a single second- rarely even waiting for you to accommodate his size. He just flops his lengthy muscle between your thickened folds, licking up the first few inches of your channel, before reaching back n’ fucking you in hard, rapid thrusts.

Again and again.

He’s pressing the silver orb of his piercing into every tender lil’ spot inside you.

And though Gojo Satoya was the mean type in bed, never have you known him to be this…greedy.

“S-sweetheart—” You didn’t even realize that you’d been momentarily rendered stunned by the sheer primal streeeeetch between your legs. Not until Satoru’s gasping tone permeates the air, and he’s jerking his hips up cutely. “Sweetheart, please-”

“Heh.” Satoya snickers into your cunt. The vibrations are zapping forces of electricity right up your spine-

Satoru ignores him. “I need you.” He confesses—and the sheer desperation in his voice is enough to make you buck, and to make Satoya grumble in annoyance. The older brother uses one hand to latch onto your pretty hips, roughly draggin’ you right back down onto the creaky bedsprings. That ancient furniture protests as you’re being pinned down.

And so does Satoru-

But Satoya’s cutting him off, “I don’t care what you do- but do not fuckin’ move her from my mouth.” His frigid tongue piercing sticking against the top of your clit and making you squuuuuirm. “I haven’t eaten all night.”

And your clouded mind is almost about to ask what he means-

Before he’s slitherin’ his tongue back down and flickering in and out of your hole- sliding across every hidden inch of you. Letting his prominent nose crush up against your nub.

“And this pussy’s always so tasty—”

“Fuh-fuck—!” It’s Satoru that breaks the lecherous slurps n’ squelches this time- through the cacophony, his voice rings out so prettily. Because just then you’d properly pulled down his sweatpants and taken the nerdy man’s thiiiiick, throbbing cock in your hands.

Your lips part.

Long. Rock-hard.

So hard, in fact, that this might as well have been the first time in his life that Gojo Satoru has ever been hard. It feels as though he was buuuuuurning up all the way from his globular red tip, splurgin’ out wads of precum that coat a sheen down your wrist. Gliding down to your elbow.

Actually- it wasn’t just sappy precum. It was globular beads of gleaming white that are escaping n’ escaping out of him the second you’re touching him.

Pretty round balls flinching. Every part of him was just the most innocent pink.

He throws his head back as he empties out volume after volume of his seed- so much in just a few seconds. Though not as much as he would like to, because in a split-second, Satoru reaches his hand down and plugs his leaking hole up with a thumb. 

“Awww…” You’re pouting in disappointment. The excess of his cum drivels down your arm, creating patterns between your fingers.

He looks down at the sight of your voice and- fuck, he can’t handle it. He’s looking away. 

Satoru can’t help but whimper. “Fuck, don’t say that. I th-think m’gonna cum again—”

“Already?” Satoya scoffs.

“Shut up.” Satoru bites back. And he might have all the endurance he needs to last all night with a textbook and his notes in front of him, but the studious man was now fighting for his life—whispering formulas underneath his breath just to bate his impending high again. So close. “Euler’s method of sequence consists of…”

But the more you’re feeling him, the harder Satoru grows.

He lays out heavily across your palm, the girth of his erection making you falter. A heft to him that makes you clench ‘round Satoya’s mouth—and the other man can’t help but grunt. He leaves a man spank! on top of your clit that leaves you squealing. “Are you focusing on me or my brother, baby?”

Barely managing to gurgle out, “B-both?”

By now you’d wrapped your fingers around Satoru’s swollen cock- giving his bulging tip slow n’ steady pumps. He chases your hand with rhythmic bucks.

But Satoya wasn’t done just yet-

After a single slide of his piercing, you’re feeling yet another slap. Rudely smearing his fingertips ‘round your clit- “Hmmm, I don’t think that’s good enough. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”

“Sh-shit—” Satoru shivers at the feeling of eyes on him. “I believe that’s right-”

“Mhmm—”

“W-what do you…” And it leaves your head dizzy to register just how fast the two brothers had gone from fighting to friends—to toying with your body together. They were meeting eyes and briefly nodding.

And it’s the last thing you’re seeing before Satoru tucks a hand underneath your chin and tilts your gaze up to his. “Forgive my disrespect, sweetheart.”

He wraps his larger fingers ‘round your own dominant hand- the one that’d been jerking off his cock. And with it all nice n’ tight, Satoru squeezes your hand at his base and starts thrusting—rutting. Like an animal in heat, he’s fucking the circular space your hand made as if he wishes it was your cunt.

“But the one you should be focusing on is me.”

Throwing a jealous look down at his grinning brother- mouth all glowing with slick. The bespectacled man tuts and reaches down to sneak his free hand underneath your t-shirt.

Dipping underneath your bra and directly groping your tits-

“Heh, look at you.” Satoya rolls his half-lidded eyes—already looking so murky with the juices of your pussy. More n’ more of it dripping down his chin as he’s thrashing his pierced tongue between your pussylips- faster n’ faster.

And the thing about Satoya was that he didn’t care if it made you squirm.

He didn’t care if it left your body restless.

He didn’t care- in fact, it was all the better if he could overstimulate you with only a few sloppy strokes. And with both Gojo twins - one babble away 

Suddenly, you’re swearing that the circular metal of his piercing was hittin’ straight into one of your best spots. G-spot throbbing with pressure- and it’s making you plant your feet onto the edge of the mattress and buck-

And get draaaagged back down by Satoya’s ruthless hands. Stuck to you like adhesive. 

“You seriously think I’d let my dinner escape so easily?” He asks, more to himself. His rasping tone makes a primal part of you open up, and the frat president giggles at just how much wetter you’re getting. “Awwww, look how much wetter she’s getting f’me.”

Peeking up at his brother and watching him flinch. Possessive, possessive.

Satoru pinches your right nipple. Capturing where you were softest between two fingers, he teases that peak. “There is not enough evidence for that conclusion.” 

And Satoya has to admit that he feels your cunt glistenin’ even more at Satoru’s ministrations. “I don’t do any of that science shit-”

“You don’t do anything-”

“Except eat my girl out goooooood.” Dipping his tongue in and out—this time, Satoya was expanding his tastebuds and showin’ off the sheer layers of your juices that stuck to him. He always did have an incredible length to him, shovelling properly in, in, in. “Jealous?”

Satoru shivers as the crown tip of your thumb rubs down his cockhead’s slit. “N-no, because her mind’s on me anyways-”

“You fuckin’ wish.”

You almost forgot just how competitive the two could be - united in ruining you, but breaking apart at the very seams. It both bothered and turned them on to think about havin’ to drag your attention away from the other man, to think about accelerating their pace until it was nothing but a blur—Satoru’s cock clasped between your fingertips, Satoya’s tongue dipping in and out of your hole.

Fishing out so many ribbony wires of slick that it’s formulating a puddle down below. He just knew your pussy so well, and Satoru just had this utter need to him that was-

“It’s me that you want, right?” Satoru leans down to hush against the shell of your ear- his scorching hot breath setting your entire body alight. “It’s-”

“Now that’s just playing dirty.” In retaliation, Satoya slaps your clit one more—and it makes you see stars. Just because that makes your fist tighten around his brother’s cock, he lands at least three more sharp spanks before lashin’ his tongue piercing against your clit once more. A few more times as if to soothe the sting, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Satoru.”

“Oh, please…” Satoru looks away. “That’s why she should’ve been with me from the start-”

“Now that’s pushing it.”

Two more direct slams of his fingertips against your cunt- that part of you felt just as raw as your walls by this point. 

You’re bucking up against the dampened sheets- “Please- oh…”

“What’s that?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I th-think I’m gonna-”

“Shush, baby.” To your shock, Satoya shushes you both. Right before you could finish your sentence- he merely lugs his gaze back down to admire your pretty pussy

And you were almost sure you were hallucinating, because there was no way, there could be absolutely no way…but Gojo Satoya was fucking your cunt with his mouth and nodding along to every noise he produces.

Humming at the slurps, affirming at the squelches.

Almost as though he was in deep conversation with your soppin’ wet core, Satoya licks a few more times up your crevice. Before he’s finally looking up with a faux-apologetic grin, “Sorry- she’s chatty today. My pussy says she’s about to cum.”

Your jaw drops-

“Toya, you’re fucking filthy.”

He slips his metallic piercing against the roof of your cunt, thud-thud-thud—! Probing in so deep as if to say that he knows he is- and his brother bucks up even harder into your soft palm. So needy. “Th-that’s not possible.” Satoru gasps out, pushing his condensation-filled glasses further up his nose. “According to my research, there is no linguistic nature of the genitalia-”

“This is why yer a fuckin’ virgin.” Satoya rolls his hazy eyes. 

Before you know it, the older of the two brothers leans upwards and bites his canines around your clit. That throbbing nub was stuck between his perfect lips- he counts a few heartbeats from your cunt, before wrenching his mouth back. Murmuring deep into your pussy—“Watch and learn as I make her cum, little brother. She’ll be thinking of me as I make her cum.”

“Sh-shit, Toya…” 

Blue eyes meet bespectacled blue eyes- and Satoru’s gaze narrows. “She’ll cum because of me.” His fingers - so honed from all his sharp note-taking - finds it easy to twist n’ turn your nipples in all the ways you liked.

He was alternating between both, flickering his thumb around your soft areolas.

“That’s the spirit.” Satoya says, almost talking down. “But m’doing it first-”

“I disagree-”

“At least use her mouth.” Muffling against your pussylips, Satoya’s mouth opens up so wiiiiiide to engulf every part of your dripping wet cunt. Like Satoru, he was following an alternating method that has his textured tastebuds hittin’ the inside of your channel one second, and counting the throbs of your clit the next. 

Satoya raises an unimpressed brow, “Well? What’re you waiting for? I told you she’s a dirty girl-”

“Shut up, m’not delaying…” Though he was. He really, really was. Satoru hesitates - not because he didn’t want to—fuck, how he wanted to.

How he really, really wanted to.

But he’s on his sixtieth formula by now and already about to explode- already dribblin’ out milky wads of precum. It was growing thicker and more incessant by the second, and Satoru could feel himself trembling, he could feel his heavy balls start to clench—

And yet that smug look on his brother’s face is enough to spur him into action.

Satoru jerks his hips just a little too hard on purpose- and all it takes is the tiniest glide between your puckered lips for him to shatter.

Into all sorts of zillions of pieces. Into looooong ribbony wires of cum that dribble down like a waterfall from the agitated red divot at his tip.

It’s letting out all sorts of lecherous noises as he cums—and soon enough your vision’s flooded with white. Just the most gleaming layers of his ivory sap that drench you, and at this point you can’t quite worry about it getting everywhere n’ all into your hair- because Satoya’s quirking his tongue just right to make you cum.

To tip you over the edge.

Those waves of pleasure break across every inch of your being- leaving your limbs trembling. Toes curling. Spine arching - making it all the more easy for Satoya to grab your hips in one hand and make you rut against him. He’s lashin’ out thorough strokes against every inch of your clit, the tip of his tastebuds resting teasingly on your clit.

Feeling for just how much your hole quivers for him- and you’re quiverin’ away just enough, Satoya fucks you through the peaks of your high. Peak after peak.

His younger brother elongates those white-hot whizzes of pleasure by twisting your nipples. Toying. They were just so sensitive after so much contact, making you shake into him.

Your tongue sticks out to taste more of his salted caramel seed.

And your head clouds with raw carnal pleasure, “P-please, it feels so good—” Lips wobbling, both brothers lean in to see which name you’re ending your sentence off with. “-Gojo.”

They’re sharing looks with each other.

And then they’re looking at you.

“Now now, we can’t have that.” Satoya croons.

“If that was a question during our practice tests, sweetheart, you’d get zero marks.” Satoru breathes out, finally having caught his breath. Though he still slightly trembled with the aftershocks of his orgasm, swirlin’ the roundness of his cockhead down your mouth—“Shit.”

He pulls away before he cums yet again.

“Newton’s first law of gravity…”

“Fuckin’ virgin.” Satoya repeats. “Pussydrunk from just- hah, that-”

“I beg your pardon-”

“Pussydrunk from just that-” He’s spankin’ down on your clit with his tongue- “Isn’t that right, baby? He should be more like- mmpf, me—” Struggling to get through the constant thrashes of his tongue, the way his jaw unhinges further. “Should be more in control-”

“Fuck-” Fucking his pierced tongue back into your struggling channel - it makes you gasp.

“Should be more—fuck, nonchalant. Heh.”

“Toya, again-”

“Should be more…mmmm.”

And it’s then that you’re realizing that Gojo Satoya wasn’t planning to finish his sentence - he wasn’t planning to even pull away. He was further reaching between your legs and gasping as he fucked your cunt with his mouth again and again and again-

“Move.”

When pushing doesn’t work, Satoru grabs ahold of Satoya’s hair and wrenches the man away from your pussy—fuck. You could feel yourself growing unfairly wetter at the surprising forcefulness to the nerdy man.

Before long, Satoya’s been pushed aside whilst the bespectacled twin fits himself between your legs. 

Satoya raises a brow as if waiting-

One impatient tick that turns into something of impressive nature—because without warning, Satoru spits. Messy, just like his twin had. 

“I have to wash him off.” He murmurs, watching the line of spit fall vertically down your slit. Before he lurches his face into your cunt soooo far deep that you’re sure he wouldn’t be able to breathe. And he’s eating you out like he doesn’t need to.

Doesn’t care to.

White brows furrowing, a moan cracks at the back of his throat. Fingers tightening. Blue eyes going wide. There’s an electric current that runs through Satoru’s body- like the first taste of your treacly pussy had him seeing heaven itself.

Those pearly gates were openin’ up wide for him—and so were your legs.

And it’s on pure animal instinct that he jerks himself even closer. Unfastening his maw, he’s sloshin’ his wet muscle inside again and again.

And again and again.

His first time tasting pussy, and he was gone already.

The length of Satoru’s tongue was about as incredible as Satoya’s, though slightly less flexible. But it was that lumbering inexperience of his that made his entrances feel so good - constant, with no rhyme or reason other than sticking inside so sloppily that it made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“I need to…oh.” Satoru gasps out into your pussy. Grabbing your quivering flesh even tighter- “I need to—ngh, fuck.”

“Need to what, Toru?” You’re asking in that pretty voice of yours.

And it’s damn near enough to make him cum again- urging his body to rut against yours. “I need- fuck. I need to r-remember my studies…”

“Your studies?”

“Hah- you studied?” Satoya snickers out from somewhere above you. “Nerd.”

It gives you a good jolt to realize that he’d somehow walked right up to where your body was laid, making the bed creak once he rests his thick kneecaps against the mattress. The area beside your head dips as the older brother inches closer—

Satoru nods belatedly at your question. “I r-read about this during one of my…long and lonely nights.” Peering up at you through his long lashes, something unreadable in his eyes. “Fucked my cock raw learning about how I’d make you feel good.”

Rutting. Humping the mattress.

“I read about it in medical journals- I even read about it on sex forums.” He pants out, “And I—I fucking took notes…” Looking around his room as though to grab them right now. “But now, I just can’t remember…”

Plastering those slick lips of his against your entrance—and then whimpering as he pulls away- for but a mere second before he lands back down. A few more open-mouthed kisses prior to the entire sequence repeating. 

Like he was struggling not to lose himself to your cunt.

Like he was struggling not to kiss n’ kiss his swollen mouth against your pussy - you were just too addictive. He was fighting with himself to actually wrench away from your sloppy hole n’ clear his head. The valedictorian was stumped.

He stares down intensely at your drivelling pussy, his glasses frames crushing against your folds.

Pouting against your clit at this little dilemma- meanwhile Satoya comments something about how it was a miracle that Satoru found the clit in the first place.

“Pussy so good ya can’t even think.” The older twin is tittering down at you.

And it’s the last thing you’re hearing—before suddenly whatever noises erupted in your throat are being fuuuucked back down.

With a singular stripe of his rotund cockhead. Thick and aching.

Pounding away at the back of your neck. In those brief moments that you’d been distracted, the other brother had tugged down his ripped jeans and boxers. Bearing your lips with his thickening tip - from up-close, it seemed as though Satoru might actually have been longer.

But Satoya was heeeefty and fat enough that he always left your thighs pressing together.

That flared tip of his glistens in the dim light, it perfectly illuminated the patterns of his veins. So many of them coverin’ the circumference and length of him, whirling their way ‘round and ‘round and—and now you were feeling those very same patterns indent in the back of your throat.

The nerd was longer while the frat boy was thicker.

Satoya pulls his hips back and leaves you gasping- “Heh…”

Just to watch how you’re ruined on his fat fuckin’ cock.

You’re barely blinking before suddenly Satoya’s hounding figure finds itself climbing properly onto the bed- with each of his incredibly thick legs straddling your face. Muscles flexing whilst Satoya crushes you between his thighs and fucks that pretty mouth of yours.

With harsh, humpin’ thwacks! of his tannish cockhead. He tastes like a slightly sweeter version of his brother, you feel sinful admitting - and that wonderous part of your brain thinks that it might be because of Satoya’s better diet as an athlete-

Thwack! Thwack!

“Oi—” He’s slammin’ the rounded edge of his tip down on your tongue. One hand on your chin to gape your jaw wide enough for him, “Don’t zone out w’me, baby.”

“I wasn’t…” You mumble stubbornly.

“Yeah, right.” Satoya snickers. He’s then back to bumpin’ away his swollen cockhead at your throat- reaching for that lil’ dangly thing that he always loved to play with. 

It was just obscene how much your lips were stretching and gaping around his thick size.

Smearing your pretty lipstick down his shaft—shit, he might just get that shit tattooed on his cock. Decorating every solid inch of him with the looooong sensual fucks he was planting into your dewy wet mouth. “See that?” Satoya calls over his shoulder, “My girl was fuckin’ bored with you eating her out.”

“Erm- actually—”

“Shut up and do yer job.”

Satoru pushes his thick glasses up his nose- “Fuck off.” Pretending he doesn’t hear his brother’s chuckles. And you have to realize that Gojo Satoru wasn’t the valedictorian for no reason - he was nothing if not determined. And if he was an academic weapon, then surely he could be a weapon between your legs, too?

Somehow, he’s so pussydrunk that he whispers this between your legs. Almost as if a promise to your pussy.

And right—there was another reason he was valedictorian.

He had a damn good memory.

“Th-the Gräfenberg spot is typically located on the anterior vaginal walls.” He’s rattling off- now removing his greedy mouth (but only with a few extra kisses) to reach up with shivering fingers. Satoru’s slender fingertips pry apart your swollen folds, pressin’ inwards sensually. 

“Oh—” You’re gasping as much as you could - though it was so difficult with Satoya’s cock stuffing your orifice.

And Satoru gapes at the quivers of your pussy- “About two to three inches up the mucosa, it’s part of the prostate system that—” The rest of his sentence gets swallowed up by Satoya grabbing either side of your sweaty head and using it as leverage. Digging his neat nails into your skin, he ruts down into you like he’s furious-

“And has a theorized structure of vascular networks causing sexual stimulation.” He rasps out, mouth now moved to gulp at your pretty clit. Satoru watches his brother fuck your poor maw- and his two fingers start matching his pace. Meeting it.

Hard and frenzied.

You’re feeling one prod at the back of your throat, and then another into the deepest depths of your cunt.

Velvety walls clamping down on Satoru’s digits as though trying to memorize him in there—his pretty fingertips. Souring every inch of you. Faster and faster, he gets more ravenous to find that gooey spot inside that he knows would make you feel good-

“Need any help, little brother?”

Satoru scowls, “Never.”

“Heh, alright.” Satoya responds, “But just know that m’not going easy on my girl.”

“I’m not going easy on my girl, either.”

And then it happens- all in one go.

Satoya bottoms out until your nose presses against the curls of white at his base.

Satoru pumps his fingers into your throbbing g-spot.

And he realizes by the way you’re clenching.

Immediately. He jerks his nimble fingers back and thrashes in just a few more times- targeting that one bundle of nerves. And perhaps it’s in their genetics, because both Satoru and Satoya are able to aim every movement to perfectly strike that spot.

That round, throbbing spot.

He’s scrapin’ his fingertips on the wettened area of it—“I found it…” Breathless, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I really found it- it’s right here—” Demonstrating by making a long slide down that sweet spot, “Right on this part of the adventitia that has this little- fuck.”

“Ngh—fuck, that feels good.” You’re muffling out between gasps. Satoya’s furiously hard cockhead hittin’ your throat once more. He fills you up with both his dollops of pre and his inches-

“Tch, beginner’s luck.” Satoya scoffs. “Now, the real challenge is getting that pretty pussy to cum- you see, I’m her favorite so-”

“Uh-huh.” Satoru nods - not at his brother. But down at your pussy—“Really? Because she says I’m her favorite now.”

“D’you copy during your exams, too?”

“Are you a sore loser during your games, too?”

With barbed words exchanged from both sides, they’re both toying with your pretty body. So cute and overstimulated like this- so it’s no surprise that with only a few more strokes of Satoru’s fingers, and with a few more thrusts of Satoya’s cock, you’re falling apart all over again.

All because of them.

Push after push.

Rub after rub.

Fucking you through the riotous peaks of your orgasm.

Since this was your second in a short amount of time, they were sharper n’ more unpredictable than before. 

The only thing you can do is lean back into the rickety mattress and take everything you’re given, those bursts of pleasure turning nearly unbearable every time Satoru bruises your pretty g-spot. Memorized its place. Studied it.

Digging past your elastic walls like he’d go even deeper if he could. He wonders how much further till your womb…

Meanwhile Satoya reaches behind him to slap your poor, puckered nipples. 

They were ripe after his brother’s groping earlier, and all the other man has to do is spank you around a little to make your body writhe. “P-please-”

“Awww, don’t cry, my poor baby.” Satoya’s roughened fingertips then move to wipe your tears. Gently dragging his knobbled tips down the side of your wet face- “How’re you gonna suck my cock if you’re crying?”

At this, your jaw drops. And Satoru can’t help but startle out a laugh—“You’re a fucking animal, you know that?”

“I know.”

“Be nice.”

“Nah.”

And to your surprise, Satoru isn’t reprimanding him anymore - he’s simply peeking up and taking pleasure in the sight of you havin’ every inch of your mouth ruined. Until your lips were swollen. Until your nose tingled at the scratch of his unruly white happy trail—and Satoya himself can’t help but trek his left hand down and piiiiiinch your nostrils closed. Still shoveling his cck at a frenzied pace. 

Just to watch you squirm.

Satoru hums something interested.

And pinches your clit—

You think you might be shattering into your third high of the night, your fourth.

Either way, all you know is that a few seconds have passed by the time you’re blinking your hazy eyes open again - cunt sensitive, throat shot - and staring down at the vision of Satoru and Satoya who’ve regrouped themselves to the foot of the bed now.

They’d both climbed aboard now, and it dipped with pressure. 

It’s as if you were seeing double. 

You stare wide-eyed at the men who looked so-very alike: their mouths swollen n’ dripping with your slick, their cocks dripping with their own.

Messy white hair.

Glazed blue eyes.

It was impossible to pick which one was more handsome- both so attractive in two completely different ways. Both so attractive even when they were…playing rock-paper-scissors?

“Rock-”

“Paper-”

“Scissors-”

“Shoot-”

“I win.” 

Satoru holds up the paper in retaliation to Satoya’s rock—and the other man looked as though he could so-very-conveniently punch the other man with it. Satoya’s brows furrow, eyes flickering over from his brother to you. “I’m sorry, baby. Your Toya tried-”

“Hey-”

But the other man is merely sighing as he finds himself thrown next to you, taking off his jacket and coaxing you into his big arms. And how could you deny?

Satoya was chiselled until it was almost unfair- how could a man in real life possibly look this good? It was almost Herculean in nature, with the most luscious pecs and abs that could go on for daaaaays—there was a natural attractiveness to them that drew your eyes. And you could already feel your mouth watering at the thought of being wrapped up in him- which, of course, makes the older twin flex up at Satoru. 

Despite cumming in your mouth moments prior, Satoya was rock-hard. Just the slightest cap of creamy white covering his mushroomy tip.

One that he’s swiping on his thumb and reaching up to press between your lips. “Drink up, now.” He’s cooing down at you, pushing in the rest of the remnant sap across your face. Gojo Satoya had left a mess. “Yer gonna need it with this fucker-”

“Oh.” At Satoru’s protests, you turn to him. “But I think he’ll do great- won’t you, Toru?”

Satoya looks at you incredulously, “Baby, he’s a virgin—you think he’ll be able to fuck you like he deserves-”

“I fear it has slipped your mind that I’m right here-”

“And he talks like that.”

Satoru pushes those glasses of his - now lacquered in a layer of your sweet, sweet sap - up his nose. For perhaps the first time tonight, he’s speaking out in an even tone. “Spread her legs f’me, big brother.”

“Eugh, get away from me.”

“I’m going to punch you.”

“Tch—” Satoya scoffs- but makes to rest his hands on your legs. He’s easily maneuvering you to sit against that toned chest you loved so much - your back against his front, your head falling back against his collarbone.

Practically a full nelson.

Both sets of his fingers dig against the flesh of your inner thighs- wrenching those trembly limbs open. And you’re helping him do so with a whimper- “Not too eager now, baby.” Satoya hums against your ear, “Satoru here’s gonna fuck you. And after that…this pretty pussy’s gonna be happy to feel me.”

As Satoru settles himself between your legs, Satoya’s hands dip higher and higher. The curvature of his fingertips tracing patterns across your sizzlin’ skin, he’s just about to reach between your pussylips and press on your clit when-

“Satoya.” Satoru’s voice sounds huskier than ever. 

The sudden change in tone is what makes you turn your head- but it’s the sight of him that makes you keep your head tilted. 

Satoru had tugged off his soft sweater by now—and what was underneath that soft sweater was anything but…Nearly as chiselled as his older brother, Satoru cocks his head to the side and watches your reaction.

Watches you gawk at the fine lines of his defined muscles, the way his biceps flexed as he throws his sweater off to the side. Toned pecs. A firm v-line.

Now, you’d always assumed that Gojo Satoru was the somewhat lanky type- perhaps somewhere in the middle? He was tall and broad, but those loose clothes of his made it hard to determine anything other than the fact that he had really good shoulders. What an utter shock to realize that he had more than just good shoulders-

“It’s my N-New Year’s Resolution.” Satoru’s voice pipes up, this time in the softer, more familiar tone that you knew was his. You’re ripping your eyes away from his body (quite the difficult task) to meet his shy gaze. “I’ve been working out.”

Your jaw drops, “But it’s still February?”

“Genetics.” Satoya pipes up from behind you. Looking at Satoru- “And unfortunately we are related.”

“Shut it.” It seems that Satoru’s brash side only ever came out when he was with his brother - and he’s narrowing his blue peripherals at your core. “And spread my girl’s legs wider. I won’t fit between them otherwise.”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

It’s not long before your hamstrings are being stretched as far apart as they’d go—and the burning pleasure in your limbs are almost as satisfying as the one between your legs. The one at your very dewy pussy that squelches as Satoru perks his hips closer.

One hand guiding his thick tip, the other pressing down on your right thigh.

“Fuck.” He gasps once his furious, red cockhead slides between your pussylips- just a few liiingering slides uuuuuup and down.

Satoru’s head falls forward. His body arches into yours.

He’s letting out a slew of curses every time he’s ruttin’ his hips against yours- not even properly fucking you, just sandwiching his thickened shaft between your pussylips. Feeling the way your sodden lips were swallowing him up—clenching. 

Your hole wanted him so badly.

“Fuck fuck fuck-” the feeling of your inner mucosa. Satoru stumbles across his movements, properly positioning his tip now to actually push inside your entrance. There’s a line of drool gliding down the corner of his mouth. “Fuck.”

Over a million words in the English language, over 500,000 words in Japanese. Over 370,000 words in Modern Chinese, over 40,000 words in Classical Latin, and over 10,000 words in Swahili - and that’s not counting the languages that he wasn’t fluent in.

An abundance of words, and yet he can’t truly describe what he’s feeling when he first enters your pussy. 

A sudden shiver scatters goosebumps across his body, and he’s straining his arm against your legs—you swear you could almost hear the slurp! of his precum emptying straight onto your pussylips. Inside. The sensation of feeling a pussy - your pussy - for the first time was almost too much for the inexperienced man, and he’s bucking.

He’s humping.

Probin’ aside your pussylips and stretching out your entrance into a wiiiiide ‘oh’. Though his brother might have been thicker than him, Satoru himself wasn’t exactly slender.

Though smooth n’ curved in just the way that let him slip inside—

“Fuck- you’ve taken my virginity.” He’s acting like an animal. “Quantum Field Theory—” A slurring sentence leaving him with every single thrust, it almost sounded as though he was drunk. “Electromagnetism-” He’s reaching so deeply inside of you with his curvaceous pink tip, just the crowned edge of his cock that was aiming to claim every spot inside you. Every hidden spot. “Fluid dynamics- Navier–Stokes equation is the application of F = ma to fluids-”

“I have another fluid dynamic for ya…heh.” Satoya grubs against the side of your temple. With a burst of scorched laughter, he’s leaning himself back against the mattress - and taking you right along with him.

And Satoru can’t help but chase your cunt with feral need.

Barely letting Satoya rest before he’s takin’ over your slick entrance to swirl n’ swirl his tip inside. Mazing inside. Mouth watering as his older twin rests his hands underneath your thighs and peeeels your legs even further to their sides.

It makes you squeal as you feel a sudden splosh! escape from your quivering cunt. “O-oh—now that’s just unfair.”

“Unfair?” Satoya scoffs. “What’s unfair is this fucker cumming early.”

“Huh?” Satoru cranes his head to look down at wherever nonsense- oh.

Oh…he really had cum early.

Creamy white sap froths your entrance like icing. Gluing against either side of your thighs, dribbling down the line of your slit. Every time that he’s lurching his cock in just an inch, a splurge of it glazes his rude cockhead and trickles down his shaft. From there, it looked as though your cunt was wearing the prettiest gloss upon your folds- and Gojo Satoru would definitely agree. 

And it’s only then that the realization hits - to both you and the utterly pussydrunk Gojo Satoru - that he’d cum just from feeling your pussy.

Sometime during the first touch up your slit, n’ the first time he had thrusted—and of course, what else is one to do but admire their handiwork? What else is one to do but reel their hips back just a little and thrust and thrust—

Making Satoya giggle at the sheer force. He’s being pushed back against the damn headboard with every single sodden thrust into you- “Easy there, little brother.”

“Fuck off. Ejaculation is simply a natural process of the urethral meatus in response to stimulation- so what?”

“I’m just saying…” And with a single flick of his thumb, Satoya has your clit pulsing between his fingertips. “Keep going like that and yer gonna wear yourself out before you can ruin her—”

“Wh-what do you mean?” At this, Satoru looks up through his thick bangs.

“Cheh, didn’t yer damn research tell you this?”

And you’re watching the exchange like a tennis match - except you might just be the ball.

“S’not just fucking her like a madman.” Satoya lectures. As if to prove his point, he’s drawin’ a cute heart on top of your sensitive nub and making you shrill—then looking up at Satoru as if to say ‘see? “You’ve gotta know when to- fuck, toy with her pussy. You’ve gotta know when to drive her so wild with pleasure that she can take your cock properly- bottomed-out yet?”

Satoru looks down. “Not yet.”

Satoya nods, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him—except maybe when he was in the middle of some basketball tournament. The finals. Rubbin’ on your clit loooooong and slow- “Mmm, now try fucking this pretty pussy fast.”

“Mhm.”

And he does—fuck, he does.

The contrast between the frat president’s fingers on your clit - and the nerd’s cock between your trembling legs - was almost too much to handle. Your poor brain muddles up, and you’re bucking up into him—“Toru—Toya. Fuck.”

“See?” Satoya grins.

Satoru nods with an even wider grin.

“Now try going slow.”

This time, Satoya goes frenzied on top of your clit whilst Satoru’s fucking you in hard, thorough thrusts. Solid. Sudden. They were ones designed to reach the very back of your cunt, and you’re feeling the slamming pressure of each one in your throat- 

Just trying to fit himself inside—

“Her- her epithelium, I can feel her stretching so much-”

After a few more minutes of this, Satoru’s hearing your cunt stutter out the loudest, most lecherous slurp! yet…

And he’s staring down with his half-lidded blue eyes to realize that he’d just bottomed-out. For the very first time in his life.

For the very first time, point-blank.

Bulging peripherals rolling to the back of his head, he swears he feels heaven in the way your sopping wet walls squeezed all of him. Every ridge and curve and even the rare vein—just a single clench more n’ he’s gonna start cumming deep into your womb.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, “Fuh-fuck.”

“I know, right?” Satoya muses from behind you. You’re whimpering as he lets go of your clit to reach a palm up- and Satoru meets the high-five with only slight wariness. 

“Right on.”

And then it’s both of their urges to pleasure you.

Both working together. Both trying to one-up each other—before Satoya plants a loud smack! on top of your swollen folds.

And that will usually have Satoru startling at the sheer noise- gaping at how that only made you feel wetter ‘round his cock. “She really is a dirty fuckin’ girl…”

“Told you.”

Satoya’s thick fingertips travel from circling your clit to juuuuust a little further down, down, down. There, he teases your pussylips a little - rubbed raw from all the contact you’ve had tonight - down to your asscheeks.

Perfect and pretty.

Satoya gives them a little smack! before proceeding to spread them apart.

“Don’t tell me you’re…” Satoru sounds reproachful, but you could see the slight twitch of his lips.

“And so what?” The other twin plasters his lips to your temple, “If my pussy’s been taken over by my brother—then at least gimme that other cute hole, baby.”

Satoru shrugs, “As long as that thing isn’t touching me- eugh.”

You’re nodding, “Please-” Staring up into their two beautiful faces - one in front, one behind. “I want you both.”

“Dirty girl.” Satoya hums.

“Dirty girl.” Satoru agrees. “Can’t get enough of the Gojo twins, can you?”

You’re shaking your head.

Satoru smushes your cheeks together with one of his hands, tilting your face up to his. “Say it f’me, sweetheart?”

“I c-can’t…get enough—” And if you were in any other state right now, then you might just’ve been embarrassed at how whiny you sounded. “-of the Gojo…oh.”

And at that very moment, you feel Satoya’s thick, rounded cockhead pierce through your other hole.

It starts off slow—almost soothing. Just the silken globe of his erection, that mushroomy tip that passes through with little to no resistance - your body was always so pliant with Gojo Satoya. He takes pride in that fact.

But then comes…the rest of him.

How sinful that the more thicker of the twins was going into through your asshole- you could feel the tightness of your rim struggling to accommodate him. Feeling his prominent veins rub up against tender spots inside that you had no idea even existed, feeling his raw thickness inch inside and leave you sobbing.

“Oh my god—” You’re keening out at the feeling of Satoya easing inside. “T-Toya—”

And hearing you scream out his brother’s name- well, Satoru couldn’t fall too far behind, right? He was always the first in class, the first in the Physics Department, the first of the twins to pound your pretty pussy tonight - and he’s taking advantage of the fact. 

He’s planting his heels down on the rickety mattress and shovelling.

Letting the reddened, swollen tip of his cock maze inside as if a searchlight aiming to find your most tender spots.

And perhaps it was muscle memory from earlier, perhaps it was sheer carnal nature—but it takes only one or two strokes for Satoru to probe deep inside and locate your g-spot. To ready his gluttonous tip and press a passionate welcome smooch against it.

You’re jolting as though struck by a million volts of electricity. “Toru—” 

Like music to his ears, Satoru looks smugly down at his brothers. To which Satoya merely rolls his eyes and spreads his capped knees- in a single second, he’s arching his hips off the dampened mattress and puuuuushing that throbbing cock of his between your ass cheeks. 

Bottoming out.

With both twins fully stuffed inside you - and with both twins reachin’ for the sweetest nerves inside - it’s no surprise that you find yourself sobbing out of pleasure.

Overstimulated on their lengths already.

You’re throwing your head back and babbling- “Toru—Toya.” Repeating their first names as though you were a broken record player, that in itself being one with one very favorite syllable: To. “To- fuck…To—” 

Two simultaneous whacks! into your deepest depths leave you scrambling to pick up your thoughts. And your ability to speak.

“To—”

You’re arching against Satoya’s ripped front, and you press right into Satoru’s toned chest. Stuck in-between two brothers who just couldn’t seem to get enough of you—and they’re sharing a wide-eyed look with one another that doesn’t go unnoticed.

You flit your own teary gaze between the two, attempting to figure out what it meant.

And they always do say that some twins have telepathic abilities, don’t they?

Perhaps that’s what’s happening right now- because both unspoken and at the exact same time, Satoru and Satoya are recoiling their hips backwards.

Then returning with the hardest, most honed ruts.

Barely even hammering inside- just pure, carnal half-thrusts given just to drive you wild.

Thrust after thrust.

Probe after probe.

They don’t wait for one another, merely trusting that the other will catch up. And they don’t back down, either—every rugged hit pushed into your depths only seems to spur the other brother into reciprocating that strike twofold.

They’re learning the power of teamwork through your pussy?!

Satoru snags his flared tip on the crevice of your g-spot, whilst Satoya spends his time pummeling your ass. He was stretching you out in ways you don’t think you’ve ever been stretched out before - anal wasn’t something you did with him. And now…now he’s groaning at those cute clenches of your walls as though he was slowly falling in love with them.

The rugged texture of his thumb matching n’ contrasting with whatever calculated pace that Satoru was drilling into you. The bespectacled man has no shame reachin’ one of his thumbs down and swirling it in the excess leaks of his cum, collecting it all onto his fingerpad, he forces it between your pussylips and back into your hole.

Not a single drop wasted.

Satoru raises his cum-glazed fingertips up to his own mouth- and sucks.

“And ya call me the filthy one?” Satoya snickers.

“Aren’t you?”

“You’re a secret freak, weirdo-”

“Says the public freak.” Satoru flickers his eyes down to admire your cunt- he couldn’t believe that it’d taken this long since he managed to have you. To taste you. To feel you. 

But now that he had you clenchin’ around his swollen shaft like this, and now that he had your pussylips coated in all his cum, Satoru knows he needs to have you again. He needs to love on you with his cock like this again—he’s sure he’d die if he didn’t. He’s sure of it. 

And that damn brother of his-

“I know yer cursing me out mentally.” Satoya’s voice echoes through the heady bedroom. His grip grows more possessive underneath your thighs, and that blushin’ red tip of his even more ravenous to activate your nerves. There was a reason that the two of you had continued a…somethingship for so long. 

And one of the main reasons being that he just had so much chemistry with your body. That he’s leaving you breathless, like you left Satoya every single fucking moment he was with you. “Ya get this look on your face- jealous I could have her first, huh?”

“Doesn’t matter what’s first—” Satoru grunts. Pampering your gooey depths with a dollop of precum, “It matters who’s last.”

“Yeah, and that’s gonna be me-”

“That’ll be me-”

“Yeah, right.” Satoya starts—and in your hazy mind, you’re registering that they were about to start fighting again. But how could you bring yourself to stop them- when they’re shattering every coherent thought in your brain with their bludgeoning cocks. Faster and faster. How long can a truce really last? “A virgin that doesn’t know her pussy as well as I do-”

“And which one of us is- ngh, making her feel good with her pussy now?”

“You think you’re even half as good as me?” Satoya sounds condescending. “Man, I hate to break it to ya- but you’re just for tonight. I’m gonna be there for her every night—”

“Every night until she gets a boyfriend, that is.” Satoru cocks his head with a dimpled smile. “Me.”

“She’s out of your league, nerd.”

“She’s out of yours, too-”

“Boys.” It’s with the most significant effort - every single ounce of will in your body, actually - that you’re managing to keep your voice steady. And both men turn their matching blue eyes to meet your half-lidded gaze. 

Just so botched from all the times you’d been crying out in bliss tonight. It sounds scratchy once you say- “Just sh-shut up and make me—”

“Fuckin’ cum.”

“Reach your orgasm.”

They already know the answer before you utter it.

And it doesn’t take much for them to work in a frenzied rhythm on your cunt n’ your ass - staking their claim before the other. It was dizzying to be sandwiched between them. Because they’re probing into your every sweet spot, they’re dragging across your slick channels, they’re furrowing their brows to concentrate before they themselves cum—and before long, they’re pushing you straight into your nth high of the night.

Cumming.

It takes over you swift and flashing - you think you see stars dance before your very vision. Toes curling. Body arching into them.

There weren’t as many peaks during this orgasm as you had during your last few. And it isn’t long before feeling those zaps of electricity taper off- leaving your mouth babbling, and your throat hatching in sobs.

Again and again.

Satoru and Satoya fuck you through the brief tremors of your high—their dual tips entering both your channels. No doubt that your poor g-spot n’ clit were bruised by their touching by now. Stirrin’ about your insides, pumping out heeeeeaving hot messes of cum straight into your womb and deepest insides - it sloshes about as you’re bucking.

Fucking back into both of them.

The wads of their ropey seed stick to your every nook and cranny, creating a sheen between your legs that splatters all over. So much more than you ever thought possible for you to fit - because both of them had so much stored up.

Both of them had so many pangs of pleasure that could only be achieved by ruttin’ into your glossy wet pussy. Long and hard. Hot and cloying to your insides. They were the best orgasms of their entire life.

All because of you.

Filled to the brims until those brims couldn’t handle it anymore. Globular tips only fucking those leaking wads even deeper. Creamy with sap n’ droooooling out all those glazing wads into your deepest innards- even the slightest movements make you feel the splashes inside of you.

The most lecherous sounds escape you as they finally finish off their incredible waves of bliss. Balls finished clenching and sucked all dry—

Satoya’s peering down at the mess they’ve made of you, “Next round, I want her pretty pussy- but you’ve gotta wash that nasty stuff out.”

“Oh, fuck off-”

“And we’re taking turns.”

“Taking turns on what—?”

It’s a voice you’ve never heard before, then again, it’s not a voice you register as completely unfamiliar—there was something about it. Something about the pitch of it. Something about the lilting words. Something about that sort of rich voice that both the Gojo twins shared

And so some part of you hears the connection before you see it.

Before an exact clone of the twins above n’ below you on the bed walks through those bedroom doors. 

White hair.

Blue eyes.

Those exact pretty features that made people stop on the roads, hoping for a second glance.

Except…this Gojo donned a sort of cowboy hat on his head - his button-up snug and revealing a sturdy build. His boots polished till they gleamed, and his arms all tanned—sun-kissed. It really did suit the two bouquets of flowers in his hands. If Satoru was spring, Satoya was summer, then he would be autumn - how he reminded you of the sturdiness of fall trees and the warmth of seasonal pumpkin beverages. The scent. The sight. 

His jaw drops.

And so does yours- “Th-there’s another one of you—?” You’re shrilling between the two twins- no, you suppose they’d be triplets now?! 

Satoya shrugs, “Multiple too many.”

“Multiple- so how many are there really…” And then you shake your head, almost fearful to hear the answer. “Why didn’t you tell anyone-”

“To be quite frank, it’s simply that no one asked.” Satoru answers this time.

Meanwhile, their brother lingers awkwardly at the door—he’d turned away respectfully as soon as he realized what he was seeing. Though he doesn’t make a move to re-enter the living room, torn between actually making that escape and wondering whether he was actually hallucinating or not—

That is, until you’re beckoning him over.

Within the next few minutes, Gojo Satohiro has his back leaned against the wooden headboard n’ you between his legs. Your back turned to him, your cunt swallowed up his eeeeven thicker red cock in the most lecherous swerves, bumps, and grinds.

Reverse cowgirl.

“Giddy uuuuup, girlie.” Satohiro coos as he juuuust perks his hips and ends up stroking your g-spot - the fastest one to find it. His bulbous mushroom tip finds permanent residence smoochin’ away at that tight spot. “C’mon- just a little harder now. You got this.”

“I’m- I’m trying—” Thighs aching. Moaning. 

And he’s punishing you with a sudden spank of calloused fingertips- right where your right ass cheek was still sore from all the contact with Satoya. “Not trying hard ‘nough for me, sugar.”

His slight country accent (was that Kansai?) made your cunt grow even wetter- and the oldest of the Gojo brothers could feel it—

“Let me treat the lady.”

Maybe that’s why, before long, he’s pushing you down head-first into the pillows. Fingers planting yet another slap to your ass cheeks, cock bludgeoning away- in control now, Satohiro had the penchant to alternate between torturous slow paces n’ fast speeds that left you moooooaning—

Grabbing at Satoru’s pillows for dear life-

You’re ending up slipping your hand underneath. Pulling out something soft and…warm and…familar.

“What the hell is my h-hoodie doing here?”

The two other men seated - boxers-on and five feet apart from one another - in one corner of the room jolt—and all eyes fall upon Satoru.

At least, all eyes except Satohiro’s.

He tugs the fabric out of your hand and loops it around your eyes like a blindfold.

“Hey girlie, how ‘bout we take turns fucking you n’ you try to guess which one’s which?”

Whose team are you on, babygirls?

TEAM SATORU

TEAM SATOYA

TEAM SATOHIRO

Voting ended onFeb 17

A/N. JSDJHSDDJH I just had to-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[otaku-over1ord]

Read for later ✌🏽

[otaku-over1ord]

Part of my Unexpected crossover series

Suggested song: “My Love Mine All Mine” – Mitski

Shoji × Akaashi — Fluff / Overstimulation & Depression Comfort

(slow, grounding, rain-heavy)

By the time Akaashi leaves school, he already feels hollowed out.

Not tired—not exactly. Just… thin. Like everything inside him has been worn down to something fragile. Bokuto had been everywhere today. Loud questions, sudden laughter, hands on his shoulders without warning. Akaashi had smiled, responded, redirected. He always does. It’s easier than asking for quiet.

But now his head won’t stop buzzing.

Then he remembers the test.

Math.

Tomorrow.

The thought lands heavy in his chest, pressing the air out of his lungs. He stands at the edge of the steps for a moment too long, staring at nothing, before the sky breaks open.

Rain comes down hard, unforgiving. Within seconds his uniform clings to him, cold seeping into his skin. Akaashi flinches at the sound — too loud, too close — and forces himself forward even as his shoes soak through.

You forgot again.

You’re unprepared.

You’re always behind.

His thoughts start stacking, one on top of another, faster than he can untangle them. He keeps walking, head down, shoulders tense, until the world feels like it’s closing in from every side.

“Akaashi.”

The voice doesn’t startle him.

It cuts through.

Low. Calm. Certain.

Akaashi stops without realizing it. When he looks up, rain stinging his eyes, Shoji is standing in front of him. Close enough to block the wind. An umbrella held just right so the rain doesn’t touch Akaashi anymore.

They don’t speak.

Akaashi just stares, caught somewhere between disbelief and relief. He hadn’t known how badly he needed the rain to stop until it did.

Shoji adjusts his grip slightly, angling the umbrella more securely. His posture is relaxed, but attentive — like he’s bracing against something Akaashi can’t see.

Then Shoji takes a slow step forward.

Akaashi hesitates.

Then follows.

They walk in silence. Rain pounds the ground around them, loud and relentless, but Akaashi’s world has narrowed to the steady sound of footsteps beside him. Shoji doesn’t rush him. Doesn’t glance back to check if he’s keeping up. He just matches Akaashi’s pace exactly, like it’s instinct.

By the time they reach Shoji’s place, Akaashi’s hands aren’t shaking anymore.

Inside, warmth wraps around him immediately — too sudden, almost overwhelming — and Akaashi freezes for a moment just inside the door.

Shoji notices.

He doesn’t comment. Just steps closer and presses a towel into Akaashi’s hands. Then another, softer one over his shoulders.

“You can change,” Shoji says quietly. “My clothes are clean.”

Akaashi nods, movements slow, like he’s underwater. When he comes back, he’s wearing one of Shoji’s shirts — too big, sleeves swallowing his hands — with Shoji’s jacket layered over it. The fabric is warm and smells faintly like soap and something grounding he can’t name.

He sits at the table and opens his notebook.

The numbers blur almost immediately.

Shoji moves around the kitchen, the gentle sounds of cooking filling the space. Akaashi tries to focus. He really does. But his eyes keep drifting — to the clock ticking too loudly, the muted TV flickering in the corner, the rain streaking endlessly down the window.

Dolli jumps onto the chair beside him, tail flicking lazily.

Akaashi exhales, slow and heavy.

Shoji appears behind him again, careful not to crowd. A mug is placed beside his notebook.

“Tea,” Shoji murmurs. “You don’t have to finish everything tonight.”

Akaashi wraps his hands around the mug. The warmth sinks into his palms, steady and real. His breathing evens out, just a little.

They work through the math together — slowly. Shoji breaks things down into smaller pieces, pausing when Akaashi’s eyes glaze over, waiting without pressure. When Akaashi gets stuck, Shoji doesn’t correct him right away. He lets him think. Lets him try.

“I don’t like this subject,” Shoji admits softly at one point. “But I learned how to sit with it.”

Akaashi hums in response. It helps more than he expects.

When they finish, Akaashi leans back before he can stop himself.

Dolli climbs fully into his lap, warm and heavy, purring like she’s anchoring him in place.

Shoji stands, then returns with a blanket. One of his extra arms drapes it around them both, careful, slow. Akaashi doesn’t move away. He shifts closer instead, the steady presence beside him quieting the last of the noise in his head.

Outside, rain pours under a pale moon.

Inside, light spills from the living room window — soft, golden — two figures curled together on the couch, a cat asleep between them. Not loud. Not rushed. Just safe.

Akaashi closes his eyes.

For now, that’s enough.

---------------------------------‐----------------------

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

🎀YOUR VERY BIG PRESENTS!🎀

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Pairing: BFs!SatoSugu x GF!Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriends have noticed that you've been a bit down in the dumps lately due to the holiday blues catching up to you. So they decide to give you two of your VERY BIG Christmas presents early just to see you smile...and to see you cum your pretty brains out like you deserve under the mistletoe.

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Dick Sucking; VERY Sloppy Toppy; Spit Play; Spanking; Daddy Kink; Slutty!Reader; Switch!SatoSugu; Oral Sex in Front of Fireplace; Slutification; Free Use!Reader; Pussy Rubbing; Fingering; Mutual Masturbation; Titty Fuck; Outercourse; Cum on Tits; Facial; Cum Play; No Intercourse/PIV Sex….till the end lol

Word Count: 10k

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Literally based on the Christmas classic "Dick In A Box" featuring Justin Timberlake. If y'all don't know that song, PLEASE LISTEN TO IT LMAOOO YOU WON'T REGRET IT. You know damn well Gojo & Geto would absolutely do this. Enjoy my loves!! -Jazz

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You stare at your two boyfriends in utter disbelief, trying in vain to bite back a giggle. "You guys are fucking idiots," you mutter, trying to seem disappointed but you're really just in awe.

Mostly at how well they were able to conceal their cocks in the twin-sized, eight-to-ten inch boxes.

Not a single vein on their thick, throbbing dicks are showing, their heavy balls being the only things they couldn't get inside the gift boxes, so they hang below like the prettiest ornaments you've ever seen.

Or perhaps you're just horny. Staring at your two big, beefy romantic partners has seemed to jumpstart the arousal you've been feeling for the past several days but never had the time or energy to act on. Winter can be a bitch, especially since the looming arrival of Christmas has been a big part of your stress lately.

Your boyfriends knew that, hence why they told you they had a "surprise" for you later tonight. When you got home, you were instructed to take a relaxing shower with your favorite vanilla body wash, eat the steak dinner that Geto prepared for you, and then change into the sexy red lingerie set that they adore on you.

When you finished and met them downstairs, you found them both sitting by the fireplace, the lights from the Christmas tree twinkling against their handsome faces that each held mischievous expressions. They each wore robes tied at the waist and, once you got in front of them, tore open the robes to reveal their "gifts" to you.

"What?" Gojo asks, the hint of a smirk playing on his supple, pink lips. "We said we wanted to give you your gifts, didn't we?" He sits on his knees by the blazing fireplace, the orangey flames illuminating your pretty boyfriend's white hair, muscles, and blue eyes the color of the Bahamian seas. He wears a red box where his dick should be, a bow secured on top.

Geto, your other gorgeous boyfriend, sits in the same position, proudly presenting the golden box on his hard cock and his impressively muscular body inked in tattoos. He wears his long black hair in a ponytail and you yearn to free the locks from their trap. "We've got other gifts for you, don't worry," he chuckles. "These are just two we knew you needed."

He pauses, gently pressing his big hand to your cheek. You shiver at his touch, not realizing how much you've been yearning for it until now. "You've been workin' so hard lately, baby. We know that you're exhausted and yet you've still been pushin' just to give everybody a great Christmas."

"Uh-huh," Gojo agrees, dragging one of his big hands up your thigh, making you shiver. "This is just somethin' to relax you and make you happy. We would've gotten you the moon, but we think our dicks will do the job for ya."

"Boys," you coo, touched by their sweet and silly gifts to you. You feel warm and fuzzy with gratitude and adoration for your boyfriends. If anyone knows how hard you've been going this holiday, it's the two of them.

You've been busting ass lately at work, clocking in big hours for more money so you can buy gifts. You've been going out every weekend to shop for presents, fighting through long lines and stressing over delayed deliveries. You haven't been sleeping very well, chugging down coffee in the mornings to stay awake.

To say that you're close to crashing out is an understatement. But luckily, your boyfriends are here to ensure that this doesn't happen, always catching you when you're about to fall into the abyss.

"How'd you two even do this?" you laugh, your eyes falling back down to the boxes attached to their dicks. "Did you cut holes in the bottom? How are they even staying up like that?"

"How do you think?" Gojo asks, his tone sultry and low. "We definitely helped each other out earlier, but seein' you in that set is doin' it for me." His blue eyes graze over your shapely legs in the red nylon stockings, the garter belt attached to your thong panties, and your tits adorned in the red lace cups, pushed up generously for his consumption.

"Me too," Geto agrees, those violet eyes that could make any girl's panties drop grazing over your body. "So far, I'm likin' this Christmas gift you've got for us, sugar." He trails a hand over your arm, unable to resist touching your soft, supple skin.

You slathered yourself in gingerbread-scented lotion and body spray as soon as you stepped out of the shower, wanting to be extra irresistible for your men tonight. You've been needing time with them too, craving it like a fresh pot of coffee each morning. They are your favorite pick-me-ups.

"I'm likin' mine too," you purr, your eyes trailing back down to their packages. You giggle cutely, making them smile at the sound of your laughter. "I can't believe you two did this!" you exclaim. "You know that Christmas is literally hours away, right?"

"We couldn't fuckin' wait," Gojo groans, the firelight illuminating the lust in his eyes. "Plus, can you really sit here and tell us you wouldn't want your men to dick you down on Christmas Eve?" He knowingly raises his pierced brow at you.

You tap a finger against your chin, your nails painted a candy apple red that your men desperately want to see wrapped around their thick cocks as you stroke them. "Hmmm," you thoughtfully hum. "I dunno. There are rules to the holidays, y'know."

But as your eyes indulge in the gorgeously toned, beefy bodies of your men, who are taller than you even while kneeling, you're starting to rethink that. You can already feel those aroused tingles taking over your body, inviting whatever they have in store for you.

"Oh, are they?" Geto asks, scooting to sit behind you, pressing his big chest up against your backside. "Well, maybe you can break those rules just for tonight." He presses a kiss to your cheek and then your jaw, making you bite your lip. "We just had to give you your presents," he whispers, the cool metal of his lip ring teasing your ear. "You deserve 'em."

"I do?" you breathlessly ask, instinctively tilting your chin up so he can kiss more of your throat. His kisses are so addictive, pulling you in like a drug. "Of course you do, baby," Gojo murmurs, inching closer so he can trap you between himself and Geto. "You deserve this and more."

He places those big palms on your waist, his warm touch making you shudder in delight. He smiles at you, so adoring and loving, making you melt like a snowman trapped in the hot rays of the sun. "And we're not breakin' any holiday rules," he says with a pout. "Look up."

You do and giggle when you see the mistletoe dangling above you and your boyfriends. "We should put that to good use," your white-haired stud purrs.

Geto gives you a nice squeeze from the back, his big, tatted hands running up and down your sides to indulge in your hips and thighs. "C'mere," he whispers in your ear before he turns your face to the side where his lips are waiting for you. He presses them against yours, the combination of hot from his mouth and cold from his lip piercing making you melt.

You desperately moan into the kiss, twining your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He moans right back, just as needy for you, and squeezes you tight against him like he's afraid you'll disappear. His hands cup each of your titties, massaging them through the cups of your bra, making your desperation reach intense heights.

"Hey, no fair!" Gojo pouts like a kid who didn't get what he wanted for Christmas. "I wanna kiss her too! Don't be fuckin' selfish, Sugu."

Geto, still kissing you down, side-eyes his boyfriend and rolls his eyes as he pulls away from you with a satisfyingly wet smooching sound. "So childish," he grumbles, but you feel his cock twitch despite the box when Gojo presses his supple lips against yours, giving you a hot, brain-melting kiss under the hanging mistletoe.

'Yes,' you deliriously think as your men peppering you in kisses and squeeze you in the best possible way between their hard pecs. 'I deserve this. This is what I need.'

"Soooo," Gojo drawls, finally pulling away from you after a stretch of time of kissing you silly (just to get under Geto's skin). "You wanna open your presents now, baby?" He has a playful twinkle in his eyes, irresistible, sexy, and so Gojo.

You nod, giggling as your boyfriends assume position in front of you, on full display for you in front of the fireplace. You take off the tops of the boxes with both hands, revealing the two hard, throbbing cocks protruding from the holes cut at the bottom of the boxes. You press a hand to your bosom, giving a playfully shocked gasp. "For me?" you purr, staring up at your studs through your thick lashes.

"All for you, baby," Gojo purrs. "Always for you. So you gonna do somethin' with 'em?"

He and Geto stare at you with lustful gazes as you slowly slide your hands into the boxes and take hold of each of their cocks. Geto is a lot thicker with a pierced tip and kept the sexy patch of black curls to his happy trail while Gojo is longer, uncut, and generously shaved. You love both of them equally, your holes aching to take them both.

"Mmm, shit," Gojo sighs while Geto audibly moans, tilting his head back when he feels your soft hand stroking him up and down. You feel them both twitch and pulse in your palms, the skin of their shafts like velvet against your fingertips. You feel your pussy begin to push into your thong, soaking the thin line of fabric wedged between your asscheeks.

"You're so good at that, babe," Gojo groans, widening his thick, muscular thighs to allow you easier access. His cheeks have grown pink with arousal, his teeth toying with his bottom lip. "C-Can you take me out the box now?"

You giggle, loving how desperate your men become when it comes to your body. "For you? Anything, Daddy." His cock twitches at the name saved specifically for himself and Geto, his blush growing once the box is taken off of his pretty cock.

Geto helps you slide the other box off of him, leaving you two beautiful, stiff, throbbing dicks all for you to suck, fuck, and play with to your heart's content. "I'm so lucky," you dreamily sigh, already moving back to stroking the two cocks up and down, up and down, transfixed by how your fingers can barely fit around them.

"Uh-uh, baby," Geto disagrees, his hips rolling to fuck your soft hand as you stroke him. "We're so lucky. Any man would be tearin' down the walls to be in our position right now." He bites his lip as you take a lick of his shaft, your wet tongue sliding along the throbbing vein trailing from his head to his balls.

"But not just any man can give you what you need," Gojo exhales, watching through blue slits of his eyes as you switch from Geto's cock to his, swirling your tongue around the head in time with your stroking. "Not just any man has dicks like ours, do they, baby girl?"

Not at all. No other dick could make you feel as desperate and wanton as your boyfriends' dicks do. Their luscious moans and sighs of pleasure egg you on as you continue to jerk them off with your hands. You then pucker your lips up and spit on them, covering them in copious amounts of your spit.

"Fuck," Geto groans, watching you through the flickering firelight. "Think you can take me in your mouth now, babydoll?" He places a gentle hand on the back of your head, moving your face towards his cock.

"Take mine too, baby," Gojo groans, pressing his cock up against your soft cheek. "I don't think I can handle your hand anymore. I need that throat now."

"Now, now, boys," you purr, batting your lashes at them as you nuzzle your cheeks into both of their cocks, shivering at the sound of their wanton groans. "I've only got one mouth to go around...but don't worry. I can take you both~"

"Oh, we know you can," Gojo murmurs as he watches you latch your soft lips around Geto's cock, making the long-haired stud groan in relief. "Our baby can take everything we give her, can't she, Suguru? She's so strong."

SMACK!

"Ah!" you gasp around Geto's thick cock in your mouth, hard and throbbing while encased between the soft, wet walls of your mouth. You have assumed your usual position when sucking dick—all fours with your back arched and your ass hiked up, fully showing your succulent ass in your red thong to your boyfriends.

It is the perfect position for Gojo to give your ass a nice smack. The sound of his hand colliding with your ass echos throughout the living room, making your pussy throb insistently in your thong, needing something to fill it and make it feel aaaaall better.

"God, yes!" Geto grunts, strands of his black hair falling out of his ponytail and into his handsome face. "You feel so fuckin' good, sugar. You make me wanna fuckin' cum right now."

You hum around his cock, your confidence boosted and libido charged to about a thousand. His dirty compliment makes you suck him with more vigor, taking him deeper down your throat. Saliva gathers in your mouth and slides down your chin to your tits, causing Gojo to unhook your bra and expose the pretty things.

"Don't want your pretty set to get ruined," he slyly chuckles, tweaking your nipples the same way you'd like to do to his hard, pink nipples pinched between two studded earrings. But you can only focus on two things right now: sucking Geto's big dick and stroking Gojo's long cock. Pleasing them because it pleases you.

You fall deeper in love the more Geto moans for you, slowly losing control. "Fuck, baby, yes," he hisses, winding his fist around your hair. "M'gonna fuck your face now, okay? Tap me if you need to breathe at all."

You know the drill. Your men always ensure that you are feeling safe and secure more absolutely wrecking your shit. You nod, ready to have your throat filled and fucked with that perfect cock.

And finally, you get what you want: Geto thrusts his hips to fuck your tight, wet, slutty throat, groaning as he does, your eyes locked with his. "That's it, mama," he groans. "That's my good girl."

Gojo is in awe at the sight, his cock pulsing in your hand as your lips stretch in time with Geto's pushing and pulling. "Goddamn," he hisses, watching as Geto begins to fuck your throat. "I just looove seein' you be a little cockslut, baby...even if it ain't for me."

But he's wrong. You're a cockslut for both of them, needing their cocks in the morning and in the night. Feening for them when you aren't by their side, an ever-present need throbbing inside of you. That need is finally free now, letting you suck on your men as much as you want to satiate yourself.

You show Gojo that your sluttiness is without bounds when you finally get him in your mouth, playfully licking up and down his shaft like he's a lollipop. "C'mon, babe, don't tease your man," he groans, harshly biting his lip at the feeling of your wet tongue sliding along his dick. "Just please take me."

Gojo has no problem with begging and you love that about him. Geto begs you too as you begin swallowing Gojo's cock, taking every long inch of him into your mouth. "Yes, baby, like that!" he groans, his blue eyes rolling to the back of his head, showing off the whites of his eyeballs. "Just like that!"

SMACK!

You jump in delight as Geto gives you a surprise smack on your ass, taking a handful and jiggling it in his hand. His palm is soooo goddamn big that it covers nearly all of your right cheek. "Little fuckin' tease," he huffs. "You and this ass."

He spanks you again, both of your boyfriends groaning in arousal when you moan around Gojo's cock. "Look at how wet she is," Gojo sighs, transfixed by the way your puffy pussy lips, unable to be contained by the thong anymore, glisten in the Christmas lights. "You need some attention too, don't you, pretty girl?"

He sucks on both of his fingers and trails them behind you to rub your pussy through your thong, teasing you as he fucks your throat. You whimper around his shaft, feeling your muscles grow wobbly and weak from the stimulation. Your pussy quivers and tingles against Gojo's fingers, having needed to be touched for so long.

"Don't get too distracted, love," Geto chuckles, massaging your ass as he slowly pumps himself with your hand, using you to jerk himself off. "You still need to enjoy your presents."

And you do, totally and completely. Your men let you take turns switching between them, jerking off one with your hand while you fuck the other using your throat, spit slipping and sliding down your chin to your throat, soaking your juicy tits and hard nipples. Your boyfriends pull and tweak the hardened peaks while they take turns rubbing your pussy, finally pulling your wet thong aside to finger you.

You moan and whimper around their dicks, drooling all over whose ever is in your throat. Their fingers feel so good rubbing your clit, spreading sparks of electric pleasure crackling throughout your veins. "Does it feel good, baby?" Gojo teases, smacking his cock against your wet tongue. "You like your presents so far?"

"Mmm-hmm!"you whimper, only to be subjected to nothing but slurpy, wet sounds and gagging as Geto fucks your throat again. "Yeah, she fuckin' does," he grunts as Gojo slides his cock between your tits, fucking himself with them. "Look at those eyes. She's fuckin' gone."

The two laugh as your eyes, dazed and glazed over, roll back the more they fuck your throat with their cocks. You can feel your eyes burning with tears and your jaw aching, but you don't care. You love this. You love being used by your boyfriends.

"Aww, look at that pretty wittle face!" Gojo teases, his words sweetened with condescension. He takes one hand and gently smacks your cheek while he uses the other to tease your clit in time with Geto's fingers stroking the inside of your gushing hole. "Our baby looks so fucked out and we ain't even fucked her yet!"

Geto watches you drool all over his cock as he fucks your mouth off the hinges, his muscles tensing and flexing in preparation for a big nut he will soon spill down your throat. "That look is gonna make me cum, babydoll," he says, his words no more than a hiss. "That mouth is too good."

Gojo moans in response to his boyfriend's words, letting you gobble up his dick when you switch between the two again. "M-Me too," he stammers, rubbing your clit a little faster. "We want you to cum too, babe. Want you to cum when we cum."

Geto begins to fuck your pussy faster, curling his fingers up to reach that spot that makes you see stars. "Cum for us and we'll give you all the dick you can handle," Gojo coaxes you. "We'll give you these presents all fuckin' night, baby, just cum for us!"

You let out the sluttiest moans you've ever heard yourself make as you feel yourself getting closer, still drooling, gasping, and gagging between your boyfriends' cocks until finally, your orgasm peaks. You feel it ripple through your body, intense and wonderful, making your eyes roll back and the sexiest sounds leave your body as your pussy clenches around Geto's fingers.

"That's it, mama," he groans, watching in awe alongside Gojo as your hips gyrate in time with their rubbing and stroking, riding the waves of your orgasm. "Just let it come. We're right there too...'bout to give you all the cum you want."

After your orgasm passes, Geto slowly pulls his fingers out of you and lets Gojo suck on them before they focus on giving you your gift: their cum. You eagerly sit up on your knees, staring up at them and dragging your nails over their abs as they jerk their cocks in your face, their fists becoming blurs with how fast they're going.

"You ready, baby?" Gojo asks, his voice on the hint of a whine. "You wanna tell us where you want these loads? Or do you want us to choose for you?"

You know both he and Geto will choose your pussy, but you don't want that just yet. There will be plenty time to take their creamy, fat loads in your pussy, but right now, you want their cum on you. You want to be coated in it, smelling like them. "Just do it on me," you whisper. "You choose where. I'm yours, Daddies."

That is all your men need to hear. Groans and gasps fill the air, mingling with the wet sounds of their stroking, until finally, they come apart right in front of you. Geto shoots a creamy load of cum all over your tits, making them drip in his nut, while Gojo tosses his head back and releases right on your face, spraying it in his spunk, a loud groan escaping his pink lips.

You smile as you feel the warm droplets of their cum spray your soft skin, coating you in their scent, marking you as theirs. Talk about a white Christmas!

Finally spent, Gojo and Geto lay you down in front of the fire and lick their cum off of your tits before using some tissues to get Gojo’s spunk off of your face. You snuggle into Geto’s broad, tatted chest, hearing his heart pound against your ear.

"So you like your gifts, baby?" he coos, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod, smiling when he wraps his arms tight around you.

Gojo kisses your back from behind, his big hand snaking down your thigh. "Don't fall asleep on us yet. You haven't even broken your gifts in yet." His voice is teasing and sultry, making your soaked pussy throb in anticipation for what comes next.

When you feel Gojo’s cock twitch against your ass, you can’t help but grind your ass back into him, causing him to grip it and slip his cock between your thighs, rubbing it against your sticky pussy lips.

You gasp at the contact, even as Geto grabs your face and deeply kisses your lips just as the thick, long cock rubbing against your hole slips inside.

"Come here, pretty girl,” Gojo grunts. “Your men aren't finished with you yet."

THE END.

[otaku-over1ord]

Repost to read later

[tonycries]

Folded - T.F.

Synopsis. Toji Zenin. Nephew of Naobito Zenin. Leader of the powerful Zenin clan. Also…your newly-wed husband with a taste to give the family an heir. Now.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, clan leader!Toji, arranged marriage, chiIdhood best friends, being apart, friend-to-married, married-to-Iovers, the elders, the cIan is awful, rumors, tradition, cónsummation, wedding nights, exhíbitíonism, he’s PÚSSYDRÚNK, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, chokíng, manhandIing, dirty taIk, fíngering, wedding rings, matíng presses, he’s BIG, tummy buIges, cervíx smooching, rough s, letting them hear, talking you through it, pushing down, p taIking, dúmbifícation, BRÉEDlNG, creampíes, cúmpIay, cúmfIation, implied marathon, overstím,  breaking cIan systems, slight hurt, COMFORT, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.6k

A/N. Saw that one frame of his foot and knew I had to-

“And if both families find themselves in favor of this proposition-” Naobito Zenin claps his hands with a greedy smile, quivering the ceramic cups of tea before him. “-then I take that we shall commence the appropriate measures?”

“Quite quite.” The elderly representative of your own family strokes his long beard. He reaches across the sleek table of Japanese cedar—it had the sigils of Zenin warriors carved into it, each glowering up at the outsiders upon their ancient estate. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Zenin-sama.”

The former clan leader takes his handshake heartily, “The pleasure is all mine.” Before his scrutinizing eyes slip over to you. “And about the preparations for the after-ceremony—”

But you don’t listen.

Instead, you’re lifting your gaze up eeeever-so-slightly.

Just the slightest nudge that wouldn’t be enough to draw suspicion from the older men around you, yet still manage to give you a peek at the hounding figure beside Naobito. Fists clenched. Jaw sharp. Gaze lowered.

Toji Zenin.

Your future husband.

The first time you’d met the leader of the Zenin clan had been far before he ever had to bear such a title- in fact, he hadn’t even been considered an adequate heir. 

Back then you’d never in a million years have thought that Toji Zenin would be your future husband. 

It was a humid summer at the Zenin Estate.

Almost two decades ago to the day; on a day when even the cicadas seemed to sweat off the trees, echoing their sun-baffled frustrations out into the open air. And the clouds slugged across a blue sky that battered down mercilessly its balmy glare upon the heat-drunken Earth. Upon the type of people that padded their perspired foreheads with embroidered handkerchiefs, tailored hand-made for but one clan.

Just five years old, you’d been running through the Zenin Estate’s hallways in an effort to get away from the heat and your family. Your tiny feet thundering down the polished floors. Your best kimono flapping behind you.

Your clan was always rather close with the Zenin’s - on a business level, if nothing else.

So it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them to visit Naobito and his council to go over numbers you didn’t understand, and contracts you couldn’t read yet, and shake hands with men that made your stomach lurch in nervousness. But what was out of the ordinary was the fact that you had joined them this time—your private tutoring had been paused for the summer, as most conventional schools would have. And so your father had thought that perhaps bringing you along to one of their meetings would be more fruitful than leaving you alone with the garden and the house staff. 

But the corridors were hot, and even hotter were the meeting halls your father made you bow to elders in: thick and saturated with the sweetness of expensive perfumes and clan deals done well. 

So well, in fact, that no one had noticed when you’d slipped out the mahogany double doors.

You knew you’d get in trouble sooner or later- so you might as well do as much exploring as you could!

You weaved through the expansive compound.

Skipping rocks from atop their garden bridge, feeding the koi with shreds of bread one of the house attendants had handed you, swinging from the conservative branches of gingko trees. There weren’t many flowering trees or bushes, you’d noticed. The garden was green and sterile of any other color. 

Then you’d taken to being fed little morsels of delicacies by the ladies in the kitchens- at least, until one of the Zenin elders had barged in and started barking out orders. You’d escaped immediately - not wanting to get caught just yet - and run out into the sun-scorched corridor outside.

It was there that you’d flung yourself into the nearest open room you’d found.

Its grand sliding doors shuddering shut behind you, you’d cowered into the shadows as the elder’s grumbles walked by outside.

You’d only breathed out a sigh of relief when you were sure that his feet had trundled towards the end of the hallway, making a swift turn on the pathway to the meeting hall. Sitting down on the cool wooden floor, you clutched your knees to your chest. “Thank heav-”

“If you’re gonna make this much noise then at least do it where it’ll disturb those old toads.”

You’d nearly jumped out of your own skin- in fact, you think you just might have.

If the shadows could speak then you’d have said that they sounded oddly young, though the growl in his voice made you think of those types of boys that would graze their knees and then pretend it didn’t hurt. There weren’t many children in your estate outside of you, but sometimes you’d watch over the walls at the neighborhood children from afar—and you found there seemed to be at least one or two of those always. 

He sounded like the rowdiest of the bunch.

And who you’d first thought to be a ghost - perhaps in hindsight you weren’t too far off - turns out actually to be a lone figure in the middle of the dark room. A little boy. 

He was sitting before nothing, he was sitting against nothing. 

He had long shaggy hair that covered his eyes, and a mouth permanently downturned. An irritated red scar shone from one side of it.

A drop of red blood trickled down it and made you wince.

You attempted to take a step closer-

“Didn’t ya hear what I said?” That hoarse voice - much too grown-up for but a mere child your age, perhaps a year or two older - rang out before you’d even let the soles of your feet rest. Echoing. Foreboding. “Get. Out.”

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” And you always did have a habit of questioning elders that you should perhaps not question - at least not according to your etiquette classes. So who was a little child?

He scowled and looked away.

Through the shreds of his death-black bangs, you thought you saw a glimpse of green eyes, so much like the gardens of the Zenin Estate. And you can’t help but step closer—“Who are you, anyway? What’s your name?”

“Zenin.” He spat out as if it was venom. 

“I could’ve guessed that.” You sighed, with all the wisdom of a five-year-old. Most Zenins had those sharply handsome features, the dark hair, and green eyes that glimmered like crystals. You could already see the burgeoning Zenin in the boy your age, the weight of it. “What’s your first name?”

He didn’t answer.

With a huff, you’d stepped closer.

“What’s your first name?”

He still didn’t answer.

And closer.

“What’s your first name?” 

He didn’t answer still. Not even when you were standing right beside him, he remained turned away as if you didn’t exist. 

You leaned down to try and glance at his face- but the boy snarled and whipped away. His lips stretched almost garishly underneath that fresh scar—even in the darkness it was obvious: a ruby-red slit, a slice of torture.

It looked like it hurt.

“Fine then.” You said, and he almost flinched at the exhausted tone of your voice. There was a slight collapse of his raised shoulders, as if he expected you to leave him to his shadows-

But the only thing you’re doing is grabbing onto his face and bringing it up to yours.

With the silken fabric of your very best kimono, you’d dabbed away gently at the cut on his lip. “But if you’re not going to treat this thing any time soon- then at least wipe away the blood.” Though you knew that this wasn’t the lady-like thing to do, nor even polite in any sense of the word, you couldn’t feel even a twinge of regret. “It looks pretty deep. Don’t you think you should tell your momma and papa?”

You tilted his head to the side, and he glared at you through long black lashes. “Tch…”

“Hmpf-” Puffing up your cheeks in annoyance, perhaps you’d used slightly more force than necessary when touching away the rest of the blood on his lip.

He grimaced but he didn’t move. And just when you think he might not say anything at all—“My…attendants.” 

You almost thought you’d imagined it. Eyes wide, your hands stopped. “P-pardon?”

“My attendants.” He repeated, more sure than before. “My attendants will take care of it…later.”

“I see.” It almost looked as if he was searching for your reaction, and you don’t satisfy him by showing anything. You merely tilted his head from side-to-side and checked for bruises, the way your mother would whenever you fell outside while playing by yourself. He had a few more scratches here and there - though none too deep like the scar, they stood out starkly against this pale skin. He looked like a sickly boy. “And why are you here all alone?”

“Punishment.” This answer comes out easier than the last, as though it should have been obvious.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. “Oh…I’m sorry about that.” You knew what it felt like to be punished by the council for doing things that went against what a ‘respectable daughter’ would do. Though your punishments were more writing lines and standing outside. “But I don’t think you deserved it.”

He scoffed, “You don’t even know what I did.”

“I don’t.” You shook your head, “But I still know.”

And that had been that. You finally let go of the boy’s face - there had been no more bleeding for some time now, and you almost felt embarrassed to have been holding onto him for so long. 

In the obscurity between you two, you stood in silence for what felt like a few minutes- but might as well have been eternity. You’d stared at him - the strong jaw, the hunched shoulders draped in a kimono with the Zenin emblem on the back, the scar that made him look older than he was - and he’d stared right back.

Brows furrowed, yet still looking. 

Eventually, you heard the harried calls of your mother outside - she was searching for you.

With a final look at the boy - he’d turned his face away now - you started to take a step towards the door—

Only for a small hand to clutch onto your wrist.

Stopping you in your tracks, you’d snapped your head to him immediately- but the boy still wasn’t looking at you. He had his gaze fixed on the floor, and the air about him was as if you didn’t even exist.

Though the tightness of his grip was undeniable-

“Toji.” Out had come a tiny voice. Steely. Slightly trembling. 

And for a second you were more confused than anything, before the realization had dawned upon you like the beaming of the summer Sun’s rays. 

He had repeated, “Toji Zenin.”

You repeat, “Toji Zenin.”

And then Toji had let go of you.

You nodded.

You told him your own name.

And for the first time since you’d barged into his life, Toji Zenin had looked at you with his green, green eyes. Sparkling.

It was only later - years later - in one of his letters that you’d learned of just how he’d gotten his scar. And the weight of knowledge was much heavier than the abyss of not knowing; your tears had blemished the starchy paper upon which he’d written to you about being thrown into a pit of cursed spirits by none other than his own family. That day.

All because he had no cursed energy.

And that was another thing - when you first found out about it, it hadn’t been from Toji himself. Grown-ups talk. And you’d come to realize far before he’d confessed to you that this was that infamous oldest son of the Zenin clan, one year older than you, with not a single speck of cursed energy to show for it.

Jujutsu society hated him for it.

How odd it was that they couldn’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths, then.

Though you didn’t quite care—you yourself didn’t put much weight onto the strength of one’s cursed energy. It just seemed too confusing to you as a child, and more confusing still once you grew up.

You visited the Zenin Estate as often as you could after that, often tagging along with your parents for their business meetings, or sometimes even begging some of your attendants to take you if they weren’t home. All for one person.

Him.

And though he never showed it, you knew he was happy to see you.

Happy to roll his eyes and drag you all through the hallways and secret doors and gardens- it was at your insistence that Toji had gotten the gardening staff to plant a few rose bushes there. A dash of pink in the landscape of Zenin green. You’d even managed a few times to sneak away and play together with his new cousin, only just crawling.

And just as life heartens a child, Toji also grew strong.

You saw it in him each time you visited - the way his grip on your hand would grow stronger, the way he’d tell you about another cool trick he learned in training. By himself.

And you were proud of him, you really were—“Don’t get too strong though- because what if you get all big and scary like Vegeta?”

“Vegeta’s cool.”

“Toji Zenin.”

You just didn’t expect it all to come to head like this.

The letter had arrived when you were seventeen - Toji was eighteen then, and had just gone through his coming-of-age ceremony. It was a private affair attended only by the Zenin clan members, and you understood that customs dictated their rituals remain hidden- besides, you and Toji had promised each other to celebrate in your own way with some takoyaki later on.

But the letter…

“To whom it may concern,

By decree of the Elders and in accordance with the ancient traditions of the Zenin clan, you are hereby notified of termination of regular visits to the head of the Zenin clan.

This decision is irrevocable, and any further personal association with the master, outside of compulsory business and contractual visits, is prohibited. Henceforth, you are instructed to discontinue contact with Master Toji Zenin without delay. Failure to comply with these prompt directives will result in the appropriate consequences.

Our new clan head must now focus on what is truly important.

With respect.

The elders of the Zenin clan.”

That was the first you’d ever heard about him being clan leader- or even the fact that he’d had a chance.

You had visited the Zenin Estate immediately afterwards, of course.

And it was only because of the rather close relationships that you’d grown with the house staff and guards over the years that you weren’t thrown out immediately. Though, you definitely weren’t allowed inside, either. They’d told you with grave faces that you were no longer welcome in the Zenin Estate without a guardian with you at all times - and even then you couldn’t meet with the clan leader. 

You’d been forced to trudge all the way back home, letter in hand. Toji in your heart.

You’d visited a few more times afterwards, of course. 

Perhaps for a peek of Toji if anything. But the only thing that greeted you were those looming iron gates and the same answer.

You were not welcome. No matter how much you pleaded or cried or begged for answers. 

You didn’t see Toji Zenin, newly-dubbed leader of the Zenin clan, until ten years later - and by then you’d missed him as long as you’d known him. In the meantime you’d heard whispers of him in every corner and corridor of those stuffy clan functions you were forced to attend—oh, have you heard of that Toji boy? Have you heard he’s the new Zenin clan leader now?

Have you heard they overlooked his little…lack of cursed energy if he proved himself?

Have you heard he has a gift of power said to be from the heavens?

Have you heard he’s the cruelest clan leader they’ve ever seen?

Have you heard he’s grown up to be so tall?

Have you heard he’s looking for a wife?

It was that last one that got your ears perking - no matter how much that rational part of you knew that eavesdropping wasn’t a polite habit. No matter how much you knew that you and Toji Zenin were people that didn’t know each other. And hadn’t for a long time…and perhaps might never. 

You shuddered to imagine - according to the rumors - what blood-thirsty clan leader he might have grown to become like all the Zenin clan leaders before him. But a part of you just kept circling back to the little boy in the dark room, with a scar that wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

Sure enough, by the time you’d stepped foot inside your own estate after the function- your attendants had informed you that a letter was awaiting.

A letter of proposal.

Of marriage.

.

.

.

The ceremony was a message.

Every clan leader and madam and mistress, every sorcerer and higher-up, everyone that was someone was invited to your wedding to Toji Zenin. It was a lavish affair, overripe with the most succulent foods and drinks. 

Though the week leading up to it…not quite as much.

You hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Toji during the marriage meeting- rather ironic considering, well, the two of you would be the ones getting married. But where you might have answered the few stray questions posed by Naobito and his council, Toji had merely sat silently opposite you. 

He didn’t speak to you, he didn’t gesture at you, he didn’t even raise his green eyes and look at you.

Not during the marriage meeting. Not after.

Perhaps some stupidly hopeful part of you still thought that it was the meeting hall’s oppressive air that kept him from speaking- but Toji hadn’t spoken to you even when most of his advisory council had filtered out towards the end. When they’d left the ‘young couple’ alone to get to know each other better, but Toji had stayed silent.

“Toji?” You’d tried - and he hadn’t responded. “I suppose it’s clan leader Zenin now…”

To that, he’d flinched.

There were no more words exchanged between the two of you, and you’d travelled back to your estate to cry yourself to sleep.

The wedding vows had been written to you by your family elders. And in the days that followed - not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of the wedding guests nor your family nor your in-laws - you’d recited and re-recited your vows until your tongue got sick of the words. Until your tongue could feel them tingling at the tip of your tastebuds every passing moment.

Like a nagging, ever-present dread.

So it was rather anticlimactic when that portion of the wedding ceremony went by without a hitch—you were awoken with the blinking sun, and dressed in a wedding kimono of snow-white. Escorted to the Zenin Estate in one of their glossy black Mercedes, you were ducked from view and taken to the family shrine there like a secret.

You shuddered as you stepped inside this land for the first time in ten years.

Deep in the gardens. A froth of wedding guests already lined the lantern-lit pathway from the gates to the shrine, they turned their heads and attempted to peek underneath your white headpiece. You were grateful for the lady attendants who would smack them away no matter which higher-up they happened to be.

You found that you had been strangely calm up until this point - strangely feeling as though it were a dream.

But you’d raised your head just as you’d come to the steps of the shrine -and the first thing you’d seen were pink roses. Upon either side of the steps.

And the next thing you’d seen was Toji’s calloused hand - you’d recognize it anywhere - outstretched to help you up them.

That was when it had become real.

The binding rituals and sharing of sake passed by in a blur. Your voice shook as you stumbled through your vows, and Toji had steadily echoed his out—it seems they were written to match. Something about upholding the values of the household and furthering the Zenin name, words that were wiped from your mind as soon as they escaped your mouth. Then, after barely stealing a glance at those green, green eyes trained on you- you were dashed to the wedding reception.

Both you and Toji sat at the head of a U-shaped dinner table.

Winding around the massive dining hall like a serpent with a feast laid upon its silken white belly: sashimi platters, rolls and fragrant white rice, broths and pasta, cakes of all different kinds. The wedding reception was so big that professional chefs (some from the Zenin Estate, others hired from the best Michelin Star restaurants around the world) lined their workshops in the middle of the U and cooked for the guests live. 

The scrape of flat-top grills.

The clinking of sake cups.

The laughter of drunkards.

And the longer the night went on, the more rambunctious they seemed to become.

They toasted, they guffawed, they pretended not to brag, they asked for more.

You’re watching the scene unfold before you like a Renaissance painting—The Throes of Gluttony—and rub your weary eyes. Strained. The thing that no one seemed to mention about keeping a smile on your face for hours on end was just how deeply it caused a headache - all the way from the back of your eye sockets.

“Would you like to leave?”

It’s a gruff voice- deep. One that you haven’t heard in so long that it might have been someone unrecognizable completely.

But you knew who it was.

Even if the husky baritone didn’t come from right beside you - sending goosebumps skittering down your spine - you would have known that slightly teasing tone anywhere. You could have picked it out in a crowd of about a thousand voices- and Toji didn’t even seem to know that that familiar tease was slipping into his voice.

He looks dead serious when you turn to him, for perhaps the first time since the shrine. And oh—you’re hit with something indescribable.

Because what the rumors hadn’t seemed to mention about him was that he was so devilishly handsome.

He’d grown into those Zenin features he seemed to hate so much—now with a sharp jaw, a smoldering gaze, hair that seemed to fall effortlessly over his forehead. His tannish skin looked almost golden in the yolky yellow of the wedding lights. Puckered, pretty lips. Even the scar on there only served to make him look even more attractive. 

There was an intensity about him that only seemed to have grown tenfold in the years that you didn’t see him. There was sadness.

Despite knowing very well of his numerous fighting accolades as of late, you were taken aback by just how large he’d grown to be. The first time you’d seen him, he’d been a scrawny six-year-old that wasn’t even as tall as you. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been a gangly seventeen-year-old suffering from a sudden burst of height, and threatening to show signs of growing even taller.

And he had grown taller.

Broader.

Beefier.

Toji shifts in his seat to face you more clearly, and you watch as his dark hakama stretches over his wide shoulders. Puffed-out chest. Slender waist. Large arms. Barely doing anything to conceal his muscular frame-

He raises one jet-black brow at you and you jolt.

“Pardon?” Breathless.

Toji shoots you a slightly knowing smile, “Would you like to leave, my wife?”

My wife.

It’s more of a factual statement, than anything - a confirmation of what you already know. But you can’t control the sudden lurch in your stomach as he says it—

“Yes.” You’re blurting out the answer faster than your mind can compute it. And you reach your hand out to him. “Yes, I would like to leave.”

Toji clasps your hand with a slight chuckle, “As you wish, Madam Zenin.” Both your golden wedding bands twinkle in the dim lighting.

“Look! Look! The newly-weds are leaving their own reception-”

“Am I drunk or are they being audacious enough to hold hands-”

“Do you think we may see an heir soon?”

“All rise for the esteemed clan leader of the Zenin family, and his madam.” The last one is a booming announcement by one of the Zenin council members.

In unison, the wedding party rises to their feet.

Cluttering and slightly clumsy with liquor.

“All bow for the esteemed clan leader of the Zenin family.”

In unison, they bow.

And you’ve just about had enough of being ogled as if you were a party trick- smiling politely and tugging on Toji’s hand to leave. And perhaps the thought that you wanted to be alone with him - with your husband - was hastening your movements-

“All bow—” But Toji stands firm. Raising his stern voice above the chaos, so that every corner of the dining hall shall be able to hear his crystal-clear words. You look up at him in slight shock at this sudden speech—did he want them to bow to him again? Before he’s saying your name- “—my wife, the esteemed madam of the Zenin family.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

Your gaze snaps to the audience- you could see the confusion simmer across their faces, the realization, the shock, the slight apprehension. It was a chamber filled to the brim with men who’ve never had to look up at a woman a day in their lives.

And here they were, bowing to you.

It doesn’t happen instantly - not at all.

They first look at each other, they first bend at their knees as if in the motion of dry heaving (and some of them look as though they just might at this very notion), then—to your surprise, Naobito Zenin is the first to bow.

Then more of your family.

Then some of the Kamo clan.

One by one, they were bowing before you. 

“Lower.” Toji barks, and they each flinch- before doing as he said. Until their heads touched the floor, the higher-ups of that room bent before you.

As if worshipping.

All but one, of course - the blond-haired man stood out amongst the crowd. In more than one way. He was well-dressed in a way that denoted him as one amongst the clans, the Zenin emblem peeking out in silver, barely twenty with black dye fringing his pale hair. There was a coarse smirk twisting his lips, and he stood with his arms crossed in the front row.

You have to squint your eyes to realize that this was none other than Toji’s cousin—Naoya Zenin. The very same little boy the two of you had played with years before.

And he was refusing to bow before a woman.

Toji, of course, would not stand for this.

One split-second, he’s beside you, the other split-second, he’s in front of the young man and grabbing Naoya’s head with one hand. So fast that you didn’t even see him move. Slamming him down until his forehead hits the floor- “I said—” As Naoya scrambles to get up, Toji raises one foot and stomps it down on the other man’s head. “-bow.”

Naoya sputters, “T-Toji-sama-”

“Lower.” He’s pressing down even harder with the heel of his golden-clad sandal. Naoya flails like a turtle overturned- “Lower.”

“Toji-sama, I didn’t mean to-”

“Lower—”

Naoya’s cheek was pressed to the floor, tears running down his cheeks and darkening the color of the ground. He was no match to your husband. “I-I apologize for-”

“Do not apologize to me.” Toji gruffs out from above, lips slightly twitching at the ends. He was enjoying this. “Apologize—to her.”

Hearing this almost seemed to hurt Naoya more than being stomped on.

He gasps.

He chokes.

He attempts uselessly to stand.

But who was he to reject a command from the clan leader?

“I…” A rush of near-satisfaction goes through your body as Naoya raises his teary eyes to look up at you- and that was only because Toji had allowed him barely even leeway. His bruised lips babble, “-apologize-”

“Madam.” Toji finishes.

“Madam.” Naoya repents, “I-I apologize, madam.”

Toji looks at you with peripherals darkened with anger, and you can only nod at him to spare the other man. You wouldn’t want a bloodbath on your wedding.

He spits down at Naoya before taking his foot off- and where his cousin darts behind the legs of Naobito Zenin, Toji calmly walks over to you and holds out his hand. For you to take.

For him to take you away from all this.

.

.

.

The elders were outside.

The elders were outside your martial bedroom and listening to every slight noise you were hatching-

“Zenin-”

“Toji.”

“Toji—” You’re gasping out wetly into the crook of his neck, your hands fisting in the expensive silks of his hakama. Heated proximity. His panting breath. Toji was pushing you flatly against the king-sized mattress, one hand on the back of your neck, the other pressing down your front.

He reaches the edge of your abdomen, almost near where your cunt was throb-throb-throbbing wildly between your legs. And you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep the most lecherous sounds from escaping- “T-Toji, so they’re going to be listening all night-”

“All night.” Toji affirms. Pearly white canines glinting between his scarred lips, “So we might as well give them a show, hm, my wife?”

And then he’s gliding the tip of his nose down your neck, down your collarbones, right between the valley of your breasts. Breathing in. “O-oh—”

Your head tilts away to give him more access- and it’s then that you’re seeing yet another glimpse of the sliding doors to this grand chamber. Paper-thin screens. Shadows of council members here to affirm that the marriage was actually being consummated - you knew it was a tradition in the Zenin clan. For the council to stand guard behind the bedroom and make sure that another heir would be born. You just didn’t think that it would be taken so seriously with rows upon rows of-

“Focus on me, darlin’.” Toji’s rasping tone warns, something primal curdling at the very back. You’re snapping your gaze over to him and zapped with electricity a darkened look in his eyes- “Or should I say…”

“Sh-shit.” You whisper as he starts shifting down your body. Lips kissed numb.

The clan leader reaches between your trembling legs. “I beg for your attention, madam.”

“Yes.”

Your whisper billows out and makes some of the elders behind the screen flinch- their shadows stretch and grow on the pale sheet almost as if they were listening even closer.

Listening in for the whoosh of Toji pushing up your decadent silks and stuffin’ his head straight into your pretty cunt. His nose dives between your pussylips. His chin hits the base of your folds. He sticks out his lengthy tongue and manages to sluuuurp! up the wads of slick stuck to your pussy.

He manages to sniff.

“Oh.”

Something cracks at the back of his throat, and you’re looking over at him curiously.

Only to find that Toji wasn’t looking at you- not even close.

He had his murky green peripherals permanently fixated on your drippin’ wet pussy, a line of slick sliding between your folds. He was almost entranced. He was almost speechless.

“Oh.”

He had his gaze locked with your throbbing cunt until it’s only a slight creak from outside that makes him break his stare to look at the elders. And then over at you and oh—you notice that his pupils were blown so wide that you nearly couldn’t see a speck of green.

You almost feel…strangely cautious at the animalistic way he was acting. Blinking down at him, “T-Toji, are you-”

But it’s almost as if hearing his name wrapped around your pretty lips is enough to send Toji Zenin into overdrive.

And he’s startling- almost fight or flight, before slapping a hand down on the side of your hips and draaagging you halfway down the damn mattress. Letting the expensive bedsheets bunch up where your hips were pulled.

Because Toji doesn’t seem to care for your trembling questions- he doesn’t seem to care that you were bucking your hips up n’ down his handsome face for more.

No.

He was gaping his maw over your wet cunt and slippin’ his tongue inside in a mere split-second- not even waiting for your elastic hole to stretch properly before starting to fuck you like a madman. Like a madman.

He was holding onto either side of your thighs n’ pressing his nose up reeeeal close to your clit- breathing in gutturally as he swabs his tongue inside. Spit dribbling. Scar grazing your folds. “Sh-shiiiiit—”

And, usually, he’d tease your whiny voice—wouldn’t he?

But right now Toji Zenin can’t even fucking breathe as he’s pistoning his fat tongue in. And out. Repeatedly, he’s swervin’ the curled tip of his tongue against the roof of your cunt and feeling as you clench all ‘round him. 

As you buck your hips off of the rickety mattress - it must’ve been decades old by the way it was protesting your every movement.

But Toji doesn’t even register just how close his bed was to shattering into a zillion pieces right now.

The only thing on his mind was…

“You.”

You’re snapping your head down in shock and confusion at the abrupt groan of a word barked between your pussylips - no warning. It hums vibrations of pleasure up your spine and makes you arch into Toji’s slidin’ lips. All dazed, as if he doesn’t even know he’d blurted it out loud.

The only thing - one - he can think of is you.

You, you, you, you.

You with your soppy wet walls wrapped around his pokin’ tongue, you with your cunt throbbing away every time his nose dug between your pussylips. You who was sucking him back in every time he pulled out, you who was- fuck. Enough to drive a man wild.

And you could feel the change in the way that Toji was makin’ out with your pussy, too.

He had gone from the slow and sensual kissing when you first entered the room- into the rapid gestures of his tongue now. Manhandling you. Not letting you escape.

Your voice cracks once he’s pinning down your flailing limbs, feeling the bulge of his big beefy biceps against your skin. “Shit, and you just really did no- ngh- preparation or anything? Just fucking me—mm, like that?” He was stretchin’ you out so hard with his mere tongue that it was making you see white.

“All the better to feel you, my dear…” The way he says it itches something carnal at the back of your mind. And you shiver as he purses his lips and gives your clit a harsh suck. 

“A-and you’re just being so- ngh, rough.” You mumble out between wet lips.

“All the better to eat you, my dear.” Toji flicks a careless look at the grey shadows beyond the screen, the way they stirred as they surely knew what was happening in here. Almost to taunt them - Toji’s taking a few more hefty thrusts inside your hole and moaning. Loud and proud. 

“And, Toji…” Breaths hitching a mile a minute - right on time with the sloppy cadence of his tongue. You gasp, “-you’re just so damn…” Rough? Needy? Gluttonous? “-loud.”

“All the better to make them know you’re mine, my dear.”

And it’s as if your mind is suddenly made of nothing but fuzz and the most lecherous swipes of Toji’s tongue- he was holding you so tight to him that you can feel the half-moons of his fingernails embed onto your skin. Pointed chin smacking against the base of your pussy in a constant drumming that leaves you maddened. Tongue viciously pummeling in and out—

So damn noisy with the most primal slurps that you almost can’t hear yourself over it. Whining maddeningly.

“And by the sounds of it-” Toji’s continuing into your cunt, as if he was still in the middle of a conversation. Just casual. Not even with you - he was chattin’ away lovingly to your pussy. “-m’eating you pretty well, huh?”

“Fuck, when did you get so cocky—mmpf.” You’re raising a hand up to muffle the noises leaking from your throat.

But Toji catches the slight movement- and in the blink of an eye, his trained reflexes have both of your hands pinned to the front of your stomach. Wrists restrained. Your tits pressed together in a way that presents a feast for his eyes.

The way he looks at you…oh.

You’re just so wet that you could already see the gleaming layer forming on Toji’s face like a medal of honor. And you’re sure the squelches were loud enough that they could be heard even outside- “Shit.” Struggling against his lewd restraints, “Toji, but they’re gonna hear us-”

And when he still doesn’t stop his motioning face, you find yourself breaking away a hand and running it through his sweaty black locks.

Having to lightly tug to get his attention on you instead of your sopping pussy- “Toji, they’re gonna hear-”

Your husband whispers something breathless against your cunt that you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” You’re leaning up on your elbows to hear. And you can only stare into the murky depths of his gaze, pupils blown and dazed. 

He smacks his scarred lips- slightly parted as he tries desperately to crane himself closer to your quivering hole. “Cheh.” Toji rolls his eyes and lurches back a mere centimeter or two - the expression on his face was something agonized as if it hurt him to pull away - only to spit a dripping wad of saliva down onto your cunt. 

“Please…” You’re shivering, “What was that?”

Breath choppy. Tone absolutely shattered. He repeats- “Who did ya marry?”

His voice muffles into your folds. You’re looking away from the traditional sliding doors and finding that he has his eyes dead-set on you—intense.

For a few seconds you’re so enraptured by the look in his verdant eyes that you’re speechless- and only then do you register what exactly he asked. “Wait…what?” He looked dead fucking serious.

Splat! Another wad of spittle. “Answer the question, will you, madam?”

His voice was full of authority. The beastly man from earlier. “Y-you…? Toji Zenin.” You’re just managing to gasp out, shivering at the feeling of his tastebuds then rovering uuuup and down your slit. Teasing. Then pushing inside. He’d stretched his muscle out so that very honed tip would graze your most sensitive insides, “Toji, why are you asking me-”

“Then why dont’cha fucking scream your husband’s name for them to hear, hm?”

And you swear you can feel his smile against your very pussylips for a mere sultry moment.

Before he’s back to swipin’ into you like a machine. 

Except this time…he’s using both his mouth and the two globular ends of his fingertips.

The fingertips on his left hand.

They were thick and rough after years of training- perfect to swab against your most tender spots and leave your walls raw with pleasure. And just when you thought his size and shape would be enough to drive you frenzied, Toji was curvin’ up his fingers in a way that let the frigid metal of his wedding ring press against your walls.

All cold and making it easy to follow his movements. He was forcing in his solid inches with quick, methodical strokes down your velvety channel.

Probin’ into the sweetest spots - you’re sure that Toji was just so generous with his size that he doesn’t even have to try to fill up your every orifice. He spreads his fingers apart and scissors into your insides, pumping them roughly.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

“Oh my god—” Let them hear? Let the elders hear? “Toji, what has gotten into-”

Thwack!

“I said…let them hear.”

Just then he’s puckerin’ his two fingerpads against your poor g-spot- already having mapped your cunt out with his tongue. It was almost as if his digits were on a treasure hunt to find where you liked him thumpin’ away into the most.

So hard that you think the elders outside can hear it. So hard that you swear they’re flinching-

Thump-thump-thump!

And whatever question you had on the tip of your tongue before is immediately evaporating at the sheer frenzy Toji shows when he’s drilling into you. The realization hits you like a truck. “Toji, are you…pussydrunk?”

He merely flicked his half-lidded eyes up at you- “Mmmm—” Groaning his deep baritone against your raw n’ rubbed lips - it makes you leak out in your syrupy sap even more. He has the audacity to look at your ruined expression and giggle. “I dunno, council, am I pussydrunk?”

Though it wasn’t as if they could hear that slight whisper- or even if they could, it was impossible that they’d answer.

But Toji seems to be utterly unaffected by that little tidbit, and instead looks even more gleeful at the silence from the audience just behind a thin screen on the door. “Heh- when they hear they’ll know I fuck my wife goooooood.”

You supposed that answered your question already. And you’re holding onto Toji’s crown and rutting up against his ajar mouth. “Shit- shit, I never thought you’d be so—”

“Look- I think they’re squirming.” Toji glances over at the shadows that still loomed, as present as ever. “I think they’re already startin’ to find out.”

“Fuck.” He’s thrashing his wedding ring against your g-spot once more. 

And from then on you were merely at your husband’s mercy - at the mercy of the clan leader of the Zenin’s. He was acting just as ruthlessly. 

Almost as if he wanted them to hear everything he was doing.

“Bet they can hear just how wet ya are f’me- just how much you’re leaking over this damn fucking Zenin bed they love so much.” On cue, he’s rutting against the bedframe to leave its springs creaking. “Bet they can hear the way you suck me up like thaaaaaat- atta girl. My wife.” Toji hooked his fingertips at the ends and made them splosh out even more slick- dragging them out of your puckered hole and fucking them right back in. “Wonder if they know how sweet ya are though, huh?”

Like your body was ready to prove his point, your hole gapes with a gush of glittery slick. One that Toji’s gulping up with as much noise as he could possibly make.

Purposefully bucking his hips against the mattress even more - it was almost as if eating you out like this was too much to bear. He bites down on the insides of his cheek as his rock-hard erection crushed against the soft comfort. He just needed to fuck you—

Toji has his teeth nibblin’ over your pretty clit and sucking until his chiselled cheeks hollowed and it made the most lecherous squelching sounds. Each of them a cacophony that echoed outside. He moans, “Bet they can hear how ready you are-” And you’re noticing that at this particular sentence, your husband raises his volume just a tad. He raises it. “-how fucking neeeeedy ya are to get fucked stupid by me.”

A rattle outside.

Both of you turn your head in unison to look at the commotion, but whatever the incident may have been, no one seems to move from their seats at your audience. Almost glued there - and not by duty any longer.

You look back at Toji who was grinning.

He puffs out a snicker above your swollen folds—“Pwah! If anything, at least the Zenin clan leader knows how to eat pussy.”

Toji’s shaggy bangs graze across your clit and make you twitch, “T-Tooooji—I don’t think m’gonna last…”

“What was that?”

“I think m’gonna cum.”

A smile he can’t control breaks out across his face, “Louder, madam.” Toji alternates his greedy gaze between your enraptured audience, your lewdly twisting expressions, and your pussy. All gulping him down greedily.

What a sight it was to behold - and that noise? Who’s going to stop him from reaching over to grab at one of your sandals and fling it against the sliding door- where it knocks against the cedar screen and clatters to the floor. “Ya hear that?” He calls to those uptight elders, surely horrified by now… “Louder for the ones in the back~”

Turning your head, you see that your clans are more restless than ever. “M’gonna cum-”

“Louder.”

“Gonna cum—”

“Louder.”

It seems that no matter how loud you were, it just wouldn’t be enough for him.

So the only thing you could do at this point is to throw your head back and get lost in your sudden wave of bliss - throw your head back and cum.

You’re grabbing handfuls of Toji’s shaggy black hair and yowling out his name as loud as your voicebox could handle it- “T-Toji.” Bubbling out past the sizzlin’ mouthfuls of saliva welling up at your throat. “Toji—shit, shit, shit, Toji m’cumming.”

“Mmm—” He barely had the time to respond, fucking his fingers into you furiously. His mouth latched on permanently to your clit as he dragged on your high, digits hittin’ your g-spot at every startling peak of euphoria. Again. And again. And again and again and again.

Somehow he managed to pinpoint each highest point of pleasure, and you have to bite back tears at the sheer intensity. Heartbeat thundering in your eardrums. Toes curling until it almost hurts. 

And through it all the handsome clan leader below you was readily taking on each of your cunt’s drags. Each of the gyrations you were pumping down on his swollen lips and his nose. Each of the little jerks as you had to be pulled back onto his swollen lips and his nose- he wasn’t letting you escape until you were well and thoroughly fucked through your orgasm.

You blink down dazedly at him once you’re clear-headed enough to formulate proper sentences. “Toji, m’cumming and it’s all because of you—”

“Fuck.” And with that said, he’s ruuuutting harshly against the mattress. It groans even louder in response and makes the chamber vibrate with noise.

You swear at the shaking of the bed, “Y-you’re gonna break this bed tonight, I swear-”

“Good.”

And it’s with a few more vulgar strokes that your high’s dissipating into a mere few tingles at your core - which, even that Toji’s threatening to swerve his fingers into you through. And you’re completely sure that he would’ve elongated you through your first high and straight into a second one had it not been for you pulling him off by the strands of his hair.

Begging through choked-up sobs, “Toji-” You were straining to get him to move- not that you didn’t want it, but you were just so sensitive that you wanted something…else more right now. “Toji, I’m begging you to—hah.”

“To what, my wife?” He’s running his calloused hands up and down the sides of your body. “I’ll give you anything, madam.”

Your lips quivered, “I want your cock, Toji…”

And, well, how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

In no time, Toji’s lifting himself off of your lower half and climbing further up the bed. Something about the way he looks right now - half-lidded gaze, primal smirk, panting chest, throbbing erection through his wedding hakama - made you shift yourself up to the headboard.

And once you’re hitting the cool plane of mahogany, Toji grins.

“Nowhere to run, darlin’.”

The Zenin clan leader considers tearing off your kimono with his bare hands - before that admiring look you’d directed towards the garment makes him reconsider. It makes him sigh and gently start to part through the layers. They were much too much work, in his opinion.

And he’s practically jittery with need by the time the last of your obis are thrown over his shoulder.

And as for his clothes…

Toji takes his sensual time slipping off his robes - so many layers that it makes you so thoroughly impatient. And so you can’t help but reach out and threaten to rip his decadent clothes off-

“Tearing your husband’s clothes off already?” Toji says to you, though you do notice that he’s lilting his pitch up just a bit to let the elders outside hear. “S’that pussy that needy f’me already, my wife? Can’t wait until I take it off, huh?” You smack his chiselled pec and he grins even wider, “Oh, madam, we’re gonna have a looooong and happy marriage—”

Toji doesn’t even properly expose himself.

He’s merely lazily pushing aside his robes until you could practically see all of him: the naturally ripped lines of his muscles, his toned abs, his cushy pecs. All outlined with the scruff of his happy trail that wedged between his prominent v-line.

Toji’s meaty thighs peeked out from where his robes flapped open, and he was pushing them aside to bear you his aching hot erection—

You count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven

Eight.

Nine entire inches that glistened in dripping hot precum, glazed the shiniest ruby-red on the top of his shaft. Flared tip. Heavy balls. Not only was Toji so long - but he was juuuuust as thick, with enough veins that you can already feel the phantom graze of them inside you.

Toji’s balls tightened as he took in the way you were looking at him-

“Like what you see, huh?” He’s smirking down sleazily at you, giving a playful smack on the sheeny inner part of your thigh. “Don’t you worry, darlin’, you’re gonna be feeling me very soon.”

“Shit, I can’t wait.” Your legs drop open around him - and end up wrapped around Toji’s slim waist to get him to buck his cock against your cunt. “I need to feel you now, Toji.”

“Now? No preparation or nothing?” He’s cocking his head down at you—cute. Just too cute how you were shaking your head like so. Not that Toji Zenin really had any idea of stretching you out even more and teasing you endlessly, but it was nice to see you deny it all the same.

His dark fabric was still semi-draped over his shoulders (though they were falling off uselessly by now and you could spot his tanned deltoids peaking out…hoenstly, how had they trained him in the years you hadn’t seen him? Because Toji was just…incredible). And it falls over you almost like a curtain as the man pushes you back against the sweat-dampened mattress.

One hand of his presses down on your stomach, the other snakes downwards to cup his thick hilt. “But I’ve gotta warn ya…s’gonna be a biiiig stretch- alright, my girl?”

You’re nodding, “Yes—”

“And when I say big stretch, I mean a biiiiiiig one- alright?” His black brows furrow at the sensation of his tip kissin’ your pussylips - you were just so hot and soft. So ready that he almost couldn’t bear it, “Enough to make that pretty mouth of yours scream, alright?”

You huff, “A-alri—fuck.”

And those elders stationed outside your martial bedroom could probably pinpoint the exact moment that Toji’s slipping his cock inside. Red-hot. Furiously hard.

Your mouth drops into a soundless scream, and the bed dips as he rests his weight on top of your lower half. The bulbous end of his cock swabbin’ between your pussylips and finding its way inside your tight hole, he’s fitting in just the crown of his shaft and making you squeal. “Sh-shit, you’re just so big-”

“What was that?” Toji’s rutting his hips against you, his cock giving you a probing thrust. “Didn’t hear you darlin’...”

“You’re just so-” Yet another thrust. And this time you swear you can feel Toji’s salty-sweet precum trickle out at the very back of your throat—”-big, Toji—”

And this time, it’s loud enough for him.

He’s tilting his head over to the silent sliding doors with an utterly arrogant look on his face, lips turned upwards priggishly. “Ya hear that?” He’s calling out to those dusty ol’ elders - most certainly, not the least bit that softly teasing tone he’d use with you. “You small-dicked motherfuckers wish you could be me.”

“Toji—” Uselessly smacking at this bicep to no avail.

But he merely keeps going- “The only thing you can do is watch- only watch everything I do. Everything I will become.” It was like this. It was always like this - Toji had fought tooth and nail to come to where he was right now. And he’d be damned if he let some old fossils ruin his wedding night with you—they were going to have a show. He’s snarling down - and just as soon as you’re registering the expression, Toji’s crashing his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. “And right now…”

You’re whimpering as the hand on top of your stomach comes pressing dooooooooown.

“-I think m’gonna become a dadda, hm?”

“Fuck-” And it’s with a single hammering thrust that Toji’s forcing his swollen cock past all that slight resistance. His head falls forwards, bangs obscuring part of his face- and he can’t stop from heaving out a shuddering groan. 

You swear you can see the exact moment that Toji Zenin breaks.

Because you’re clenching your syrupy wet walls ‘round his tip, and it’s enough to make the hulking man above you shudder. Shake. Stop your moving hips with the hand on top of your stomach.

Toji presses down—“E-easy there, darlin’.” He’s rasping between clenched teeth, sounding for all the world as if it was taking every ounce of will in his body not to let his voice tremble. “Let your—haaaah, husband fuck you like you deserve, alright?”

Just as shaky as his words were aching to be, he’s compelling his hips forwards and swabbing the back of your pussy with a plap! “Fuck.”

“Fuh-fuck.” He echoes after you. Yet another hammering movement. “Fuck, I can’t stop myself.”

“Sh-shiiit, how is it even possible to feel like this-” You’re babbling out. And it seems that that’s what Toji wanted to find out, as well.

He’s thrusting his hips forwards again.

Shaking.

And again.

And again.

And again and again-

Soon enough, Toji was fucking you. In long, deeeeeep thrusts that bruise his split-ended tip all the way against the back of your cervix—before then dragging riiiiight back out till your hold was just stretched around his mushroomy cockhead. Then all the way inside again.

“T-Tooooooji—” You’re bawling out at this point, the sheer stretch of him inside you making your cheeks drench with tears. It really just felt as if he was openin’ up every hidden spot and crevice inside you, and Toji had his pointed tip acting as the spotlight.

Pinpointing each sweet spot-

And again…

Your legs start to thrash at the constant rhythmic feeling- “Ah ah- no running away, madam.” He’s scooping you up even further into his arms, “What’d I say? Let your husband- fuh-fuck you like you deserve, hm?”

“But- but you already are—” You cry out.

“Oh?” He’s darting his eyes down to the thick little bulge that had started forming at your stomach - just the slightest movement of his globular tip swabbin’ inside. And out. Inside. And out. No matter how much you bent and curved, Toji was just so big that you could see him from the outside. He’s grinning all of a sudden. “Oh…you’re right.”

Your eyes widen, “Toji, did you just realize-”

“But that doesn’t mean m’fucking you pregnant just yet—let me breed you, darlin’.”

Your head’s falling into the pillows, your back’s arching, your throat’s crying out - your cunt just wasn’t used to him. Which is why he was fucking you harder with no hesitation like he was trying to mold himself to your pussy.

To meld himself.

To which Toji doesn’t let you last even two seconds before he’s grabbing both your limbs and wrapping them around his neck. He lets your ankles intertwine securely before bending you neatly in half until your kneecaps spank your tits. 

You were being folded.

Straight into a-

“Mating press.” Toji rasps out, his scorching hot breath tickling your face. “This is called a mating press, darlin’.” Almost as an example, he’s pumping his solid inches all the way inside your channel - Toji stirs your insides just a little bit in swervin’ motions so his veins slip and graaaaze down your sides. “But you probably already knew that—now do you know what we use it for?”

“Well, it’s to—mmpf.” But how could he expect you to answer when he was smacking the curve of his tip against your sweetest spots. Every time you were opening your mouth to try n’ form a coherent sentence, your husband was fucking that sentence right out of your throat.

And the answer was simple: he didn’t want you to answer. He looks over at the shuffling shadows through the door screen—apologies, he should’ve emphasized. He didn’t want you to answer. “Oi.”

Toji barks out, and you could see the elders physically flinch at being addressed.

He smirks, “How about ya answer it f’me?” It almost makes you shy to hear your husband speaking to them while he was absolutely ruining your insides with his cock- tone breathy, hips smacking yours in an obvious background music to what you two were doing. “What exactly is a mating press used for?”

There’s a silence- and then a noise.

A slight whisper of an answer that only Toji’s extra-honed ears, trained through years of his Heavenly Restriction, manage to pick up. He’s nodding his head down at you, “That’s right?”

“What’d they say, Toji?”

“Oh—you wanna know what they said?” He’s cooing down at you—cute, cute, cute. Your lips were wobbling adorably whenever he grazes the rounded flare of his tip near your g-spot.

“Yes-” You’re nodding, “Yes, please-”

“Louder?”

“Yes, please—”

Loud enough that it rings across all four corners of the heady chamber, saturated with sex. “Good girl.” And Toji snickers as he pulls your restless body once more down to his- and as if that wasn’t enough, he’s craning his head down and blowing against your left ear. “A good girl that’s gonna get fucked full of my heir soon.”

An heir.

An heir.

So that was what it was used for - not that you didn’t know, or couldn’t have guessed. But just hearing your husband himself utter the very words made your pupils shape into heart eyes.

Staring up at him lovingly.

Toji was pounding your cunt against the mattress as though he was furious at you- and the constant creaking noise almost made you embarrassed. It was proof that he was fucking you had and rough. That he was pinning you down with one ruthless hand and shovelling you with every inch of his thickened length, swervin’ the nerves of your g-spot. “Even they approve.”

You’re snapped out of your dreamy little reverie, “Wh-what?”

“Even they approve.” Toji cocks his head down at you with a smile, “And I don’t give a fuck what they have to say about me- but if there’s anything I—ngh, am, it’s that I’m a man of my word.”

“And so…?”

But he merely glides his hand down your belly, feeling for that cute sensitive spot where Toji was rubbin’ your cervix raw. There was such an openly loving look on his face as he stared down at your body. “And so welcome baby Zenin—” Hyphenated with your family’s last name.

Toji shudders as he fucks you.

To be quite honest, he didn’t think that the thought of having an heir would affect him so much - he never has been one to be so hellbent on carrying the family name. Hell, he’d have been happy to take your last name.

But it was the vision of you all pregnant and plump and glowing—

Now that could do something to a man.

And it’s sending a thrill across Toji’s veins to see the tummy bulge he hammered into you, almost as if a little teaser for what was to come. He presses down on your stomach once more as he eases in and out, in and out. “Gonna be the prettiest momma f’me, right?” He’s grumbling out through his large canines, snarled as though he wanted to bite into that pretty lil’ throat of yours. “Gonna suck Toji Zenin dry and keep all my cum inside that- ngh, pretty pussy? S’that what yer gonna do? Suck me dry—?”

“Y-yes-”

“Louder, darlin.” He interrupts you, “I need them to hear their madam.”

“Yes—”

As a little reward, you’re getting Toji’s fat thumb spankin’ down on your clit. He rolls the pad of it over and over that spot- “And the madam is gonna be the one overspilling niiiiight after night while I fuck you pregnant, right? Gonna be the one that won’t even be able to move once I’m done with ya because you’re gonna be, mmm, too fucking full?”

“Yes, please-” Your voice was barely a whisper. And Toji pinches your clit until you manage to raise your warbling tone.

“Gonna be my poor baby with all that sickness, aw?” He’s fauxing out a pout- one that makes you bite on his scarred lips. How rude. “Don’t worry- I’ll massage those pretty feet of yours when the time comes, I’ll paint yer pretty nails, I’ll toy with that pussy- heh.”

“Is that even…”

“Gonna be my bossy lady, aren’t ya? Gonna order me around and make me get every pregnancy cravin’ ya want- as you should.” He’s chuckling at the mere notion of it, so sweet on his brain. “Gonna be asking me to fuck you all over again when those pregnancy hormones hit, huh? And then…”

“And then?” You eagerly ask.

He leans down to whisper - just for you, this time. Not any audience. “Then - if you want - I’ve gotta fuck you with our second kid all over again, huh?”

Your jaw drops.

But Toji continues - his hips and his fingers and his words. “And then a third.” He plummets his thoroughly swollen tip once more against your g-spot - so hard that it sets the crowns of your teeth on edge. “A fourth.” Another.

“Shit-”

“A…” Toji trails off, his dazed head raising blearily towards the sliding doors. “How are we feelin’ about five kids, eh?”

Whatever they answer makes him smile.

“You heard it, momma.” He gutturally moans, “M’gonna cum inside this cute cunt- fuck, m’gonna cum inside and pump you all fuuuuuull.”

Your heels attempt to find purchase on his sculptured back, and you’re kicking madly because of the sheer force of pleasure coursing through you - though, of course, to a man with Heavenly Restriction it feels like nothing but kitten punches. “T-Toji…”

He smiles like he already knew what you were about to say, “Yes?”

“Toji, m’gonna…”

“Cum, huh?” He’s narrowing his sultry eyes down at you, “And do you think she deserves to cum?”

For a second there, you think he’s almost talking to you - and you’re wondering just what he was talking about…before the shuffling and murmurs from beyond the sliding doors catch your attention. “You’re seriously asking them—”

“Ah ah-” Toji hums, “The council is in session.”

You couldn’t believe your damn ears- and you’re getting lost in Toji’s aggressive strokes for some time. Looooong and hard and driving your pupils into the back of your skull. Before Toji’s hand suddenly comes slamming down atop your pussylips-

“And can ya guess what the council has decided for you, madam?” Toji grins from ear-to-ear, “Hm?”

“I-I don’t—oh.” He’s pinching your clit hard enough to make you see stars.

“They’ve decided that you can cum.”

Hard enough to make you reach your high all at once. 

It’s shuddering through your body in waves, and you find your hips arching damn-near completely off of the bed. Toji has his cock stuffed in you deep and his fingers squeezing your clit through each throb of your high. 

It was harder than the last one.

Mind-baffling. 

Earth-shattering.

It was as if a warmth had flooded through your entire being, and Toji was only heating up the temperature a few notches with each probe of his cock. His flared tip swabs down the sides of your g-spot every single time - and Toji was more than happy to send your body twitching each time he did so. 

More than happy to watch the waves of your high turn out to be splashes—

You were squirting.

“Hear that—?” He calls out breathlessly, above the liquidy noises emanating from between your legs. The volume of your sap clearly drenched your legs and left his cock soaked. Thoroughly soaked. “She’s fucking—oh, she’s…” He fucks you through your high with roughened grunts, “Fuck- fuck.”

It left you salivating and unable to string together a full sentence- your arms wrapping tight around Toji’s neck to kiss him. “Want it-”

“Hmmmm?”

“Want you to cum inside me now, Toji.” You’re begging up at him, batting your tear-stained lashes. Pulling him in even closer, “Please?”

“Cheh-” He snickers- though even through that smug demeanour, you could feel the animalistic flinch of his cockhead deep at your innards. He was unravelling as well. “I’m gonna cum in-haaah, inside you- of course m’gonna cum inside you, my wife.”

Toji funnels into you so hard that the crowned top of your head hits the headboard.

“Gonna cum inside you and feel it in your womb-” Toji snarls out, his blushin’ tip starting to trickle out in something hot and gooey. “Gonna give these needy walls of yours something ta really hold onto- gonna have her sucking me dry.” And you swear you could see tears glittering in his dark eyes. “Gonna pump you so full that you have no option other than to- hah, overspill. But oh, don’t worry, my madam, when you overspill your husband will be riiiiight here-”

You hiccup, “Please-”

“-to fuck it right back in again.”

It’s then that you’re really feeling the full force of Toji’s high - because he empties out thiiiiick and miry ribbons of cum that puddle at the back of your pussy. So much of it. So much being poured out. They were just so sticky, with a salted caramel taste that you swear sizzles at the back of your throat.

Muscular back arching.

Eyes shuttering.

His heavy balls hitting your cunt with a thwack-thwack-thwack!

He digs his feet into the springy mattress and arches into you through each peak of his high, dragging his veiny cock right through it. Your velvety walls were just perfect to elongate the feeling of his airy sensation, and Toji can’t help but let out husky groans as he gets lost in the feeling—fuck, he didn’t even know that he could cum this much.

Trickling into you like honey.

Toji glides a hand down your front and feels for that little tummy bulge that was once there- now all bloated with his sheer white sap.

But it’s almost as if it was refusing to stop by this point, and Toji can only swat his ruby-red tip against the deepest depth of your cervix and thank her for taking it all. His eyes fluttering open and shut as he attempts to clear his damn mind.

You’re biting down on your tongue, tears exploding behind your eyes. “Sh-shit, it feels so good.” Pressing your lips to his scarred ones, so familiar now. “Toji, you feel so good.”

He shivers.

“Fuck, we’re gonna make a cute baby.”

Before…Toji Zenin doesn’t stop.

In fact, you learn that he doesn’t stop - and you don’t want him to - even past your second round. Your third round. Your fourth round. Your fifth round.

Toji might have had all those delicacies before him during your wedding reception, but it was here between your legs that he couldn’t stop going back for seconds. Filling you again and again and again- it was by the sixth round that the bed frame had completely broken. And by the eight that he’d stopped taking you on the shattered mattress and fucked you on the polished wood of the floor.

Just two feet away from the sliding doors, your head was being pushed up and up and uuuuuup towards it. As he just kept on thumpin’ his rotund red tip into the base of your pussy until the sun started to rise.

Taking you on all fours this time—doggy style, with a mean headlock gripping your throat.

And the elders outside were slouched and fatigued, if their shadows were anything to go by.

And you yourself was just so sensitive-

“Where’d you think you’re going, madam—?” You’re feeling Toji dragging you down into his beefy arms before you even understand his question - before you even realize that your feet had already planted on the wooden panels and had started to push off. It was as if your body couldn’t decide whether you wanted to bounce up more into his ruinous length, or to bounce away for your own sanity-

He helps you make a choice - and that was by grabbing onto the column of your throat with his biceps and raising your muddled head up to his. Kissing you, “Are we sure it’s even taken, yet?”

“Yes—” You’re babbling out over…the murmurs of a council that agreed immensely. They themselves were sure that their clan leader would continue until the end of time if possible. “Yes, it’s taken- it’s-”

“But are we- sure-” Each word punctuated by a thorough slash of his puckered pink tip.

He was so sensitive by this point that Toji himself was leaking his ivory sap out like no other- not enough space inside you for all of it. It froths down the middle of your cunt and creates such a gooey mess—“Yes.”

“Mmmm, well anything you say, madam.” He’s humming out. Pussydrunk. “But are we really-”

“Toji Zenin.”

The clan leader shudders, “I love it when you do that.” He kisses you with a rather loud smack, “I love you—”

And he doesn’t feel a shred of regret in the world for what he’s just confessed. Always wanted to confess.

“Always have.” Toji swallows, looking deep into your dazed eyes. “Always will- and I tried—oh, how I tried to get to you. But it was never enough. How I imagined holding you and loving you all these years but…but I understand if you don’t feel remotely the same, and if the council’s distance b-between us has already changed your mind on-”

“Toji Zenin.” He shuts up and looks down at you- only to be greeted by your smile. Head turned over your shoulder to keep staring at him. His own scarred lips turn up into a grin, green eyes twinkling. “Come here and kiss me, my husband.”

And so he wastes no time.

Murmuring into your mouth.

Pulling away for a split-second.

Raising his meaty thigh up and pressing the heel of his foot straight on top of your head- “Should we ask those damn old toads for baby names now?”

.

.

.

“Toji Zenin.”

You’d repeated, all those twenty years ago when you met him for the first time.

And for the first time, said Toji Zenin could feel his heart give a little…lurch.

How strange—he clasps at his small chest through his yukata as he watches you leave for your mother with a final wave. How strange, indeed.

The door closes and a little boy with green eyes and a scar is left sitting in the darkness, hoping you’ll visit him again.

.

.

.

The door opens.

What could buy a small apartment in Tokyo, barely the size of your closet, could buy an entire home in Hokkaido. Modest yet spacious. 

With an arched doorway and the curious guest of vines growing down the side of the house,peeking its leafy little head inside in the presence of dim yellow light. A stone pathway zig-zagging through the foliage to lead one right inside. A roof the color of a pastel green that marked it out from the others around it. A plumage of flowers - roses and tulips and lavender - each lifted their head up at the rays of early morning sunlight—this was why Toji had picked this place out.

It was somewhere no one would find you.

With enough space for three people.

You keep a hand on top of your growing belly and take in the scenery around you,as if a moving post card. After your wedding night, Toji had forgone what all the elders said and given you the choice on what you wanted to do in case of a real pregnancy. Taking you to the doctor to know every option in-depth. And, at the end of the day, well…

It hadn’t been easy to run away from the Zenin clan - let alone burn their whole estate down. Carrying only with you your most essential belongings, your wedding dress, and enough money to last the two of you four lifetimes - but Toji still would insist on working. 

It hadn’t been easy.

But you had done it.

The both of you- you had done it.

And through your fingertips were still slightly charred from the remnants of ash and memories, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more free in your life-

A jingle of keys.

While you had been basking in the natural world outside, Toji had gone ahead and opened the door to your new home. He’s staring softly at you from inside, smile crooked, large frame leaned against the door frame.

“What?” You ask him in slight amusement.

He shakes his head and quietly passes you the keys.

They were like any other - a set of glinting keys that had a little tag on them. It was one of those tags people attached to the schoolbags of their children (speaking of, was it too early to start looking into those now?) and at the top of its white face was written—your name. First and maiden last.

And then Toji—not Zenin.

Rather…

You look up at him with glistening eyes, “You took my last name?”

He nods, eyes slightly downturned. “I did- just before we left I handed in the paperwork.” Taking a long pause, “I apologize that I’m no longer your Toji Zenin-”

You’re cutting him off by throwing your arms ‘round his neck and pulling him in for an embrace. Toji steadies you easily, hands automatically then gliding down to your swollen stomach. “You never need to apologize to me for not being Toji Zenin, my love.”

“I see…” He’s clutching you even tighter, while the garden chirps around you two. Slightly choked up, “That reminds me- we need to pick out a name for our son, too, huh?”

Ah yes- a day before you left, the doctor had confirmed that you two would be having a son. A little boy. An heir to the Zenin clan. 

Those days, you just couldn’t help but think of another little boy with the weight of being an heir on his shoulders, sitting alone in a dark room with a bleeding scar.

But now you smile, “All in good time. Though I do have some ideas in mind.” Toji did, too, and you giggle as you think of the little notebook he’d been secretly writing down names in - one at the very top circled ‘Megumi’. 

“Mhmmm.” He’s looking at you with those eyes, green like the gardens of the Zenin Estate - but now green like the gardens of your home here. Toji looks so serene—you should’ve known that your boisterous husband wouldn’t let that tranquil air last too long.

His scarred lips lift up in a smirk, hand gliding across your pregnant belly. And you already know-

“Toji…”

“How about we start practicing for the second, huh?”

A/N. AWWWW I LOB HIM- feel like making a whole series for him now lowk.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[otaku-over1ord]

For future reading can't do this while learning Spanish 😞

[ivysorrele]

JJK P☆RN LINKS 3

CONTAINS: piv, squirting, public sex, f receiving, breeding kink, cockwarming, & creampie. p1 p2

RYOMEN SUKUNA

۶ৎ overstimulating kink

۶ৎ pumping you full with his cum

۶ৎ drilling into your pussy

۶ৎ he's obsessed

۶ৎ dessert :p

TOJI FUSHIGURO

۶ৎ breeding kink

۶ৎ backshots

۶ৎ camping

۶ৎ fucking your brains out

۶ৎ fingering

GOJO SATORU

۶ৎ dripping with his cum

۶ৎ car sex

۶ৎ can barely take him

۶ৎ he's such a tease :(

۶ৎ squirting like a good girl

NANAMI KENTO

۶ৎ taking his time

۶ৎ morning sex

۶ৎ cockwarming

۶ৎ stretched you so good

۶ৎ his fav reason to go home

CHOSO KAMO

۶ৎ getting on his knees for you

۶ৎ obsessed with your tits

۶ৎ creampie

۶ৎ can't get enough

۶ৎ pussydrunk

[otaku-over1ord]

Save cause I'm in school ✌🏽😞

[otaku-over1ord]

Static Under the Skin

⚠️ Content Warning: gender dysphoria, misgendering, disordered eating (non-graphic), emotional distress. Isolation, Internalized Transphobia (Societal)

Other: Relapse Themes, Mental Health Struggles

Please take care while reading 🤍

-------------------------------------------------

Summary

Kenma doesn’t know what their gender is — only that being seen as male hurts.

When fear makes them pull away, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo choose to stay.

A story about misgendering, relapse, and being loved without deadlines.

Kenma realized something was wrong the first time he flinched at his own reflection.

Not dramatically. Not with tears. Just a quiet, instinctive recoil—like touching something hot and pulling back before the pain fully registered.

He stopped turning the lights on in the bathroom after that.

He stopped showering unless he absolutely had to, because seeing his body felt like being confronted by a lie he’d agreed to live inside. Broad shoulders. Flat chest. A shape the world insisted meant something he didn’t feel.

This is what you are, the mirror said.

Kenma looked away.

At night, when the apartment was quiet and the others were asleep, he lay awake scrolling through forums, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

People like him existed.

People like him suffered.

And so many of them lost everything anyway.

My partner said they felt betrayed.

They said I changed too much.

They loved the old me.

Kenma pressed his phone to his chest and fought the urge to scream.

So he started disappearing in small, deniable ways.

Skipping meals because food made him feel too present in his body. Wearing oversized hoodies even indoors because fabric was a barrier. Sitting curled into himself so no one could really see him.

When Akaashi asked if he was okay, something inside Kenma snapped—not because Akaashi was wrong, but because he was right.

“You don’t get to worry about me like that,” Kenma said harshly.

Akaashi went still.

“I’m not attacking you,” Akaashi said quietly. “I just—”

“You keep looking at me like I’m broken,” Kenma hissed. “Stop.”

The words landed harder than Kenma expected.

Akaashi’s face shuttered. “If that’s how you feel,” he said, voice tight, “I’ll give you space.”

As soon as he left, Kenma folded in on himself, nausea rolling through his gut.

Why did I say that?

Because if Akaashi pulled away now, it would hurt less than when he eventually left for real.

Kuroo noticed the weight loss next.

“You’re not eating,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Kenma shrugged. “I forget.”

“That’s bullshit,” Kuroo replied gently. “You never forget food.”

Kenma stared at his hands. “I forget myself.”

That was when Kuroo reached for him—and Kenma panicked.

“Don’t,” Kenma said sharply. “Please.”

Kuroo froze, hurt flashing across his face before he masked it. “Okay.”

Kenma locked himself in the studio that night.

Days passed. Hunger became something distant and abstract. His body felt unreal, like it belonged to someone else. When he stood too fast and the room spun, he welcomed it. Dizziness meant he didn’t have to think.

When the door finally came down, the noise felt like an accusation.

Kenma barely recognized himself in their eyes.

Too thin. Collarbones sharp. Wrists fragile.

Kuroo looked like he’d been punched in the chest.

“What did you do to yourself?” he whispered.

Kenma wrapped his arms around his torso reflexively, shame flooding him. “I didn’t mean to. I just—every time I ate, I felt trapped. Like I was feeding the wrong version of myself.”

They sat him down. Ordered food. Watched him like he might vanish if they blinked.

Kenma tried to eat.

Halfway through, his throat closed.

“I can’t,” he said, tears spilling over. “I’m sorry.”

Bokuto immediately slid the plate away. “Hey. Hey. That’s okay.”

Kenma shook, breath uneven. “I hate my body. I hate being called ‘he’. I hate that everyone looks at me and thinks they know who I am. I don’t feel like a man, but I don’t feel like a woman either, and I’m terrified that means there’s something wrong with me.”

His voice cracked completely.

“I tried to find answers, and all I found were warnings. That people like me ruin relationships. That we’re selfish. Confusing. Too much.”

Akaashi’s eyes shone. “Kenma—”

“I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realize you didn’t sign up for this,” Kenma sobbed. “That I’m not what you wanted.”

Bokuto leaned forward, fists clenched. “You are what we want.”

“But what if I change?” Kenma whispered. “What if I never figure it out? What if this feeling never goes away?”

Kuroo swallowed hard. “Then we deal with it one day at a time.”

Bokuto tilted his head. “What if you don’t have a gender right now?”

Kenma blinked, breath hitching. “You can… do that?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said firmly. “You don’t owe anyone clarity.”

The relief hurt almost as much as the fear.

“What pronouns feel okay?” Kuroo asked softly.

Kenma wiped his face with trembling hands. “They. Or she.”

“Done,” Kuroo said instantly.

That night, Kenma slept.

Not well—but some.

Two weeks later, he relapsed.

The first time it happened in public, Kenma froze.

It was a convenience store—bright lights, narrow aisles, too many people too close together. Kuroo was comparing snacks. Bokuto was loudly arguing with himself. Akaashi stood beside Kenma, quiet and steady.

“Sir,” the cashier said, smiling politely. “Your total is—”

The word hit like a physical blow.

Kenma’s vision tunneled. The buzzing returned, loud and violent in their skull. Sir.

There it was again. The assumption. The certainty.

They felt their body snap back into sharp focus—every angle wrong, every inch too visible.

Kuroo opened his mouth immediately. “Actually—”

“It’s fine,” Kenma said too quickly.

Too loud.

Akaashi looked at them, alarm flickering across his face.

The rest of the transaction passed in a blur. Kenma didn’t speak again until they were outside, cold air biting at their skin.

Their hands were shaking.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Kenma muttered. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Akaashi stopped walking. “Kenma.”

Kenma laughed weakly. “I thought I was getting better.”

Kuroo stepped closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I felt it,” Kenma whispered. “All of it. Like I got shoved back into a shape I don’t fit.”

That night, Kenma didn’t eat.

They told themselves it was just one meal. That it didn’t mean anything.

Akaashi noticed anyway.

He noticed everything now.

The way Kenma flinched when strangers spoke. The way they folded inward when mirrors were unavoidable. The way food became negotiable again—half portions, excuses, untouched plates.

And worse: Akaashi noticed his own hesitation.

The memory of that fight—the sharpness of Kenma’s words, the way Akaashi had walked away instead of staying—sat heavy in his chest.

What if I made it worse?

What if they stopped trusting me because I couldn’t handle it then?

One night, Akaashi sat awake alone, replaying every moment.

You keep looking at me like I’m broken.

The words hurt more now than when they were spoken.

When Kenma finally relapsed hard, it wasn’t dramatic.

It was quiet.

They stopped eating entirely for three days.

Not out of punishment—out of numbness. Hunger felt deserved. Familiar. Control felt safer than uncertainty.

Kuroo noticed the dizziness first.

Kenma nearly collapsed standing up.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, voice tight with fear he didn’t bother hiding. “That’s it.”

Kenma shook their head weakly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Kuroo said. “And you don’t have to be.”

Kenma tried to argue.

They didn’t have the strength.

Akaashi sat beside them on the floor later that night, close but not touching.

“I need to say something,” Akaashi said quietly.

Kenma braced.

“I’m sorry I left that day,” Akaashi continued. “When you lashed out. I told myself I was respecting your space, but the truth is—I was hurt. And scared. And I didn’t know how to stay without making it about me.”

Kenma’s throat tightened.

“I should have stayed,” Akaashi said. “Even if you pushed me away.”

Kenma’s voice came out small. “I didn’t want you to see how bad it was.”

Akaashi nodded. “I know. But I want to see it anyway.”

Silence stretched.

Then Kenma broke.

“I don’t feel real in this body,” they sobbed. “Every time someone genders me, it’s like I’m being reminded that no matter what I do, the world already decided who I am. And I’m so tired of fighting that.”

Akaashi gently leaned in, resting his forehead against Kenma’s—not forcing, just offering.

“You don’t have to fight it alone,” he whispered.

Recovery didn’t fix everything.

Kenma still flinched at mirrors. Still had days where clothes felt wrong. Still froze when strangers spoke.

But the difference was this:

When it happened again—and it did—Kenma didn’t lock the door.

They said, “I’m slipping,” instead of disappearing.

Kuroo responded with food and presence.

Bokuto responded with stubborn optimism and grounding warmth.

Akaashi responded by staying—every time.

Some days, that was enough.

Some days, it wasn’t.

But Kenma was still here.

And this time, so were they.

1) Public Misgendering — Worse, Repetitive, Lingering

It doesn’t stop after the convenience store.

That’s the part Kenma isn’t prepared for.

It happens at a café when the barista calls out, “Order for Kenma—he’s over here!”

At the train station when a stranger says, “Excuse me, sir,” without even looking twice.

At a restaurant when the waiter smiles warmly and adds, “Gentlemen,” like it’s a kindness.

Each time, it chips away at something fragile.

Kenma starts bracing before leaving the apartment—shoulders tight, jaw clenched, hoodie pulled up even when it’s too warm. They rehearse responses in their head and never use them.

Correcting people feels like asking for permission to exist.

Sometimes Kuroo corrects them. Sometimes Akaashi does. Sometimes Bokuto blurts it out too loud and too earnest.

And sometimes—too often—Kenma shakes their head and says, “It’s fine.”

It never is.

One afternoon, a woman in line behind them laughs lightly.

“Oh, boys always look so uncomfortable shopping,” she says.

Kenma goes cold.

The world tilts. The sound drains out. Their body feels suddenly too solid, too obvious, like it’s betraying them in public.

They don’t remember getting home.

They do remember locking the bathroom door and sitting on the floor, knees to chest, nails digging into their sleeves to ground themselves.

This is what they see.

This is all they see.

That night, Kenma skips dinner without telling anyone.

The next day, they skip breakfast too.

2) Akaashi’s Guilt — Quiet, Persistent, Self-Blaming

Akaashi notices before anyone else does.

Not just the skipped meals—but the pattern.

Kenma goes quiet after every outing. Withdrawn. Hollow. Like they’re bracing for something even when they’re safe.

And every time, Akaashi thinks about that first fight.

About how he left.

He tells himself he was respecting boundaries. That he did the mature thing. That staying might have made it worse.

But at night, alone, that justification doesn’t hold.

He remembers Kenma’s face—defensive, panicked, cornered.

Remembers how easy it was to walk away when things got hard.

I left when they needed someone to stay.

The guilt doesn’t announce itself. It settles in his chest like pressure.

He starts watching Kenma more carefully—maybe too carefully. Counting meals. Tracking moods. Second-guessing every word before he speaks.

One evening, Akaashi corrects a stranger who misgenders Kenma.

The stranger shrugs it off, barely apologizes.

Kenma doesn’t look at Akaashi afterward.

Later that night, Akaashi finds Kenma sitting on the bed, staring at nothing.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Kenma murmurs.

Akaashi’s heart sinks. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Kenma interrupts softly. “I just… felt exposed.”

Akaashi nods, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry.”

Kenma frowns faintly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Akaashi doesn’t believe that.

Because he knows what it’s like to be the one who almost says the right thing and still misses the mark.

The guilt finally spills over days later.

Kenma is pale. Quiet. Barely touching their food.

Akaashi sits beside them, hands folded tightly in his lap.

“I need to tell you something,” he says.

Kenma tenses, just a little.

“I think part of the reason I’m so afraid of messing up now,” Akaashi continues, voice low, “is because I already did. When you first pushed me away… I left. And I’ve been afraid that if I make another mistake, you’ll disappear again.”

Kenma blinks.

“I didn’t leave because I didn’t care,” Akaashi says, eyes shining. “I left because I didn’t know how to stay without hurting you. And I hate that I learned that lesson too late.”

Kenma’s voice trembles. “I didn’t want you to see how bad it got.”

Akaashi exhales shakily. “I want to see it anyway.”

A long silence stretches between them.

Then Kenma leans—just slightly—into Akaashi’s shoulder.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” they whisper. “I just need you to not leave.”

Akaashi closes his eyes.

“I won’t,” he says. And this time, he means even when it’s ugly.

The first fluff moment happens by accident.

Kenma is curled on the couch, hoodie pulled up, controller loose in their hands. They aren’t really playing—just letting the game’s background music loop because silence feels too loud lately.

Bokuto plops down beside them with zero warning.

“I declare this a Kenma Rest Day,” Bokuto announces.

Kenma blinks. “You don’t get to declare—”

“Too late,” Bokuto says cheerfully, already draping a blanket over them both. “Also, I brought snacks.”

Kenma eyes the bag warily.

Bokuto catches the look immediately. “No pressure. They’re just… here.”

Something in Kenma’s chest loosens.

A few minutes later, without comment, Bokuto peels an orange and sets the slices neatly on a plate between them. He doesn’t watch to see if Kenma eats. He just keeps talking about a match he watched, voice animated, safe.

Kenma eats two slices.

No one celebrates.

No one comments.

That makes it easier.

Later, it’s Kuroo.

Kenma wakes up from a nap to find Kuroo sitting on the floor beside the couch, back against it, laptop open. He’s working—but close.

“You don’t have to stay,” Kenma murmurs.

Kuroo doesn’t look up. “Didn’t plan on leaving.”

Kenma shifts, letting their foot rest against Kuroo’s shoulder.

Kuroo grins. “Oh? Am I furniture now?”

“Comfort furniture,” Kenma says quietly.

Kuroo’s grin softens. He reaches back and squeezes Kenma’s ankle once—gentle, grounding.

They stay like that for a long time.

The softest moment comes from Akaashi.

Kenma is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a hoodie folded in front of them like it’s a difficult puzzle.

“I don’t know what to wear outside anymore,” they admit quietly.

Akaashi doesn’t rush to answer.

He sits beside them and gently pulls his own jacket off, draping it over Kenma’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to decide today,” Akaashi says. “Or tomorrow. Or this week.”

Kenma swallows. “What if I never know?”

Akaashi meets their eyes. “Then we’ll still know you.”

Kenma exhales, shoulders relaxing under the familiar weight and scent of Akaashi’s jacket.

Later, when they leave the apartment, Akaashi casually corrects a stranger’s pronouns—calm, steady, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Kenma squeezes his hand afterward.

“Thank you,” they whisper.

Akaashi squeezes back. “Always.”

That night, they all end up piled together on the floor—controllers, snacks, low-volume game music humming in the background.

Kenma leans into the warmth, Bokuto’s laughter, Kuroo’s steady presence, Akaashi’s quiet closeness.

The world outside still misgenders them.

Their body still feels wrong some days.

The fear hasn’t vanished.

But right now—right here—

Kenma feels real.

And loved.

Soft Pronoun Practice (Without Making It Weird)

It starts unintentionally.

Bokuto is pacing the living room, rambling about practice, when he suddenly stops mid-sentence.

“Kenma said they’d help me pick a new game later, right?”

There’s no pause. No hesitation. No awkward emphasis.

Kenma looks up slowly.

“…Yeah,” they say.

Bokuto grins. “Cool. Oh—also, she kicked my ass last time we played.”

Kenma snorts before they can stop themselves.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “Wow. Both in one sentence. Multitasking.”

Bokuto beams. “I’m talented.”

Kenma doesn’t correct anything. Doesn’t freeze. The words land gently instead of sharp, like they were always meant to be there.

Later that night, Akaashi quietly asks, “Did that feel okay?”

Kenma nods. “It did.”

Akaashi smiles. Just a little. Like he’s relieved but not surprised.

Silly Nickname Scene

Kuroo starts it.

“Well,” he says thoughtfully, watching Kenma demolish a boss fight, “you’re officially a menace. We need a nickname.”

Kenma squints. “No.”

“Too late,” Bokuto says immediately. “Chaos Gremlin.”

“Absolutely not,” Kenma replies flatly.

“Gremlinma?” Bokuto offers.

Akaashi hums. “That’s worse.”

Kuroo laughs. “What about Pixel?”

Kenma pauses the game.

“…I like that one.”

Bokuto gasps dramatically. “PIXEL. That’s cute.”

Kenma feels warmth creep up their neck. “Don’t make it weird.”

Kuroo smirks. “Too late, Pixel.”

The nickname sticks—not as a replacement for their name, just something warm and optional. Something that belongs to them.

The First Time It’s Effortless

They’re at a small café. Quiet. Calm.

The barista looks at Kenma and asks, “What can I get for you?”

No gendered language. Just neutral.

Akaashi answers casually, “They’ll have a latte.”

Kenma freezes for half a second.

Then—nothing bad happens.

No stare. No correction. No explanation.

Just… normal.

When they sit down, Kenma stares at their cup.

“That one didn’t hurt,” they say softly.

Akaashi watches them carefully. “Good.”

Kenma exhales. “I didn’t even brace.”

Akaashi reaches across the table and taps their fingers together once. Gentle. Grounding.

Comfort After a Bad Dysphoria Day

Not every day is good.

One evening, Kenma comes home quiet and folded inward, hoodie sleeves pulled over their hands.

Bokuto notices instantly. “Bad brain day?”

Kenma nods.

No questions. No pressure.

Kuroo turns off the overhead lights, switching to lamps instead. Akaashi queues up Kenma’s favorite game soundtrack. Bokuto grabs the weighted blanket and drapes it over them like it’s a sacred ritual.

Kenma curls up between them on the couch.

“I don’t feel right,” they murmur. “Everything feels… off.”

Kuroo presses a kiss to the top of their head. “Then we’ll make everything else right.”

Akaashi sits close enough that their shoulders touch. “You don’t have to explain.”

Bokuto holds out a controller. “Want to beat me up digitally?”

Kenma huffs a quiet laugh. “Yes.”

They play. They lose track of time. Kenma eats a little without thinking about it.

Later, half-asleep, they whisper, “Thank you for not trying to fix me.”

Akaashi answers just as quietly, “You’re not broken.”

Ending Soft

That night, Kenma lies between them, listening to steady breathing, warmth pressed on all sides.

Their gender still isn’t clear.

Their body still feels wrong sometimes.

The world is still careless.

But here—

They are Pixel.

They are they/she.

They are loved without conditions or deadlines.

And for now—

That’s enough.

[otaku-over1ord]

Unexpected 2 cause I'm impatient ✌🏽same options just shorter time frame with new options will make another post again

2x

Momo x Kenma smut

Sero x Kuroo smut

Bakugo x Kenma smut

Shoji x Akaashi smut

Denki x Yaku smut

Deku x Hinata smut

humanoid Tokoyami x Sakusa smut(?)

Uraraka x Yamaguchi smut

Todoroki x Kageyama smut

Momo x Nishinoya smut

Oikawa x Iida smut

Bakugo x Bokuto

Voting ended onDec 31, 2025

If you're wondering why there are so many smut options is because I ran out of answers 😭 so just say the ship in the comments, whether it's smut its fluff

[otaku-over1ord]

Part three of Unexpected crossover

part 3

Denki x Yamaguchi

Mina x Hinata

Jiro x Yaku def fluff

Aizawa x Iwaizumi

Mirio x Bokuto

Tamaki x Aone x Ushijima heavy fluff

Shoji x Tendo

Momo x Aone

Shoji x Ushijima

Bakugo x Tendo

Mirio x Tendo

Todoroki x Aone

Voting ended onDec 31, 2025

If I'm repeating some of the ships, it's because I don't really look at the other posts ✌🏽 like the last one just comment fluff or smut