Getting drunk from your pussy.ᐟ part 2
# August Stilza, Follo Tunito, Bro Santa, & Zodyl Typhon
Synopsis: Them getting addicted to your pussy.ᐟ part 1
Warnings: Smut, MDNI!
𝜗ৎ AUGUST STILZA
August was already intoxicated the first time he had tasted your pussy, and to him it would be the sweetest dessert he could ever wish for. August hungrily licks on your clit repeatedly and even sucking on it. He groans on your pussy and would even go as far to jack himself off whilst eating you out. It's almost like a routine to August, he wants you to sit on his studios table and he immediately starts delving deep into your pussy and he goes hours just from that,
𝜗ৎ FOLLO TUNITO
He never really put oral in his mind before you told him that he should give it a try, and when he did, he just couldn't stop. Follo would go for hours at a time if you don't pull on his hair in overstimulation. By the end of each session your clit is already swollen and puffy from the amount of time Follo had his tongue working on it, your pussy is practically dripping into the sheets of your bed and a sense of his touch would be enough to have you jolt and squirm at him. Follo loves the taste of your slick, even tongue fucking your hole to taste your sweet essence over and over again.
𝜗ৎ BRO SANTA
Every time you both fuck, there isn't a time where Bro doesn't have your legs spread open whilst his tongue works on your pussy. Bro is an absolute menace when it comes to oral, and he always makes sure that you get to cum as many times as you can before he gives your weeping hole attention. He would suck on your clit as if his life depended on it and loves watching it twitch whenever you reach your high, it's an addicting scene for Bro. He insists that you sit on his face and would tell you not to hover as he wants to feel your whole weight crush him down, he'll die a happy man at that.
𝜗ৎ ZODYL TYPHON
He's naturally born to lap his tongue on your pussy, there's no denying that even with this mans stoic personality there's always a part of him that's addicted to you, it just so happens that his favourite thing to give attention to is your pussy. His nose always nudges on your clit whilst his tongue rapidly licks down your slick. Zodyl would have you sensitive in a matter of minutes and would have you cumming on his tongue almost instantly, his mouth always suckles on your hole and you feel him practically slurping down on your juice. He gives you no room to squirm as he latches his mouth on your clit when you cum on his mouth to give you the feeling of overstimulation and it always ends up with you grabbing his hair in your hands to pull him away from the sensation.
Where they like to be kissed 🥰 (Gachiakuta Edition)
Rudo: Cheek, Forehead
Oh GOD does he remember the first time you kissed him. It must've been some stupid joke or comment that caused both of you to laugh so hard. Such a good distraction: getting high off the dopamine and serotonin, almost choking on your own spit, to steal a kiss right on the fat of his cheek. You little minx, you got him good. He stopped laughing, mouth agape and breath stolen. You thought you killed him; he wasn't breathing, but turned red soon enough. To be honest, he gave you a pretty disgusted look after you did that, but later apologized and said he was dumb. He didn't exactly know how to react. The real dilemma came when you kissed his forehead. During a mission, Rudo got caught in some collateral damage—a bit of shrapnel nicked his head. Sadly, a sudden trash storm kept you cooped up. Alone together, that's how you usually end up; you bandaged whatever you could of him, giving a soft peck to the ripped portion of cloth on his forehead. He, once again, didn't know how to react. It...It reminded him of Regto...bandaging that crude scab after he banged his head against the wall. A migraine—phantom pain—bloomed, but it softened because you were there. Could you...do that more often?
Enjin: Shoulder, Clavicle, Arms, Neck, Mouth
Geographically, his tattoos + lips. But besides that, it's kind of an ego booster having your lips trace over his "muscles." (Lmao what muscles enijn you prolly underweight 😭) Bite 'em. Lick 'em. Give a little scratch, why don't ya? Go on and claim him; it's all yours at the end of the day. He's got a whole back covered in bruises and bite marks, and of course, he'll (flaunt) show a bit of skin if it means the opps will back off. I don't think he's a believer in the whole "good luck kisses" thing, but he'll play along if it means he gets a taste of your lips before he's off on a mission. It's for the buzz, that drug, that weird thrill of it, that he's gotta work quickly and make it back alive. If he dies, you'll kill him. AGAIN!
Zanka: Cheek, Hand, Ears
Just like the previous headcanons, cheek kisses are the quickest but most domestic of the bunch. He's got some prominent baby fat, so you GOTTA kiss it. Please, you gotta, please! Do it for me! Pinch his cheeks too when you get the chance! He can huff and puff all he wants, but you know he loves it. But if you want maximum flustering, kiss his hands or ears whilst complimenting him. His hands are labored, but somehow soft and not covered in splinters; kisses on the hands express such a respect, such an honor, that Zanka, at least, desires to receive. Weave your fingers between his, play with them a little bit; his hands are so big they can swallow yours whole. And his ears, oh my gosh, his ears. Please kiss them, they're literally his Achilles' heel. Just feeling the rising heat of the shell on your lips is enough.
Riyo: Face
She doesn't have a particular preference; all's fair in love and war. She loves your smooches, so why does she gotta pick? Your love's the best love, so go on a kiss her. It turns into a game of who can steal the most kisses. Joke's on you, she's winning by a long shot. But she plays fair (in this game), so you can rack up some points. Lol, she carries a scoreboard filled with tally marks, mainly on her side, but adds a few on yours. But, besides the game, she just loves lazy cuddles and kisses, just splayed out on the bed, kissing whatever part of her face is closest.
Gris: Hands, Arms
You never realized how scarred his hands were. Then again, have you seen how much labor he puts in on a daily basis?! They're definitely very dry, coarse even, and there are so many scars you can't tell what's a scab or a palm crease. All this warmth, this affection, is received towards your hands so much that he neglects his own. It's about time you reciprocate. Kiss each of his fingers—yes, each of them—and definitely his palms—no matter how sweaty or how much you scrape your lips against the graininess—because he does so much. And while you're at it, kiss his arms—once the uniform is off—because he just does so much and it needs to be loved and appreciated.
Follo: Nose, Cheek, Mouth
He sure loves his Eskimo kisses and nose nuzzles. I bet Follo's nose is always cold; his excuse for kissing your nose is so silly when HE'S the one who lived in (Canada) the snowy side of the Ground. Whatever, just kiss that little ice block. Follo also likes it when you kiss his cheek before or after returning from a mission, for good luck, of course. But just like the previous, it's your lips that take first place. Making out in the dark of night, letting the moon grow green with envy as it lights both of you glorious blues. It's an addiction, like sugar on his tongue, constantly colliding his lips with yours and falling in love over and over again until he forgets everything else but you and your face and this love. Kissing you is a reminder that there's always someone, whether back at HQ or elsewhere, waiting for him, who won't live with themself if he's gone, because he sure won't live with himself if you're gone.
Tomme: Hand
Nothing like a classic "Prince kissing the hand of the princess." Call it dumb, but who wouldn't love a partner taking a knee just to kiss your hand, spreading devotion in such a quiet, simple way? Cliché? Okay, maybe a little, but Tomme falls for it every time. Even just lightly smushing your lips on her finger is enough; what else could you do when the day is over, head empty, cuddling in bed, hand in hand, hip to hip and way too tired to have sex? Just the silence and a simple peck on the hand.
Amo: Cheek, Hands
As I said, when Amo loves, Amo loves dearly. Amo cares, and Amo wants to show you that, but you have to show that to Amo as well. You're straying into deep, murky waters with Amo, so you're going to have to be wary of how you show affection. At the moment, the best bet is cheek kisses because they're simple and the quickest, but they're also the most tame. Amo loves them, and you like them, so it's a win-win. Be wary when Amo tries to kiss your lips. Yes, it's a side-effect from her...experiences...but please don't encourage this behavior. Trust me, for teens your age, (you better be her age because i swear to fucking god—) it's better this way. Instead, kiss her hand. Amo won't exactly understand it at first—she gives you a questionable/disgusted look—but if you leave her alone with it, she'll start to like it. She'll prod you to give her more hand kisses, mayhaps even cut herself in order to coax you. Trust me, it's better this.
Tamsy: Jaw, Neck, Mouth
Devotion. Your pure, unadulterated devotion. Come on, pull him close, put your hands around his waist, beg, plead, shed a tear if you must. He wants you on your knees, clammering upon his skin, desperate for a taste like a poor man dying for a drink of water. He wants to be your Xoanon, something that keeps you up at night, wailing, screaming, biting your fingers off. Kiss his jaw for honeyed truths, kiss his neck to swell his hubris, kiss his lips for a wild, erotic dream. A never-ending hallucination. He wants you unraveling at the seams with every kiss, exchanging these tithes for breathy giggles and low hums. Your lifeforce, your sanity, flaying at the edges whilst he grows vibrant with youth vigor; so this is what it feels like to be worshipped? He loves this little pedestal you crafted from your poor, labored hands; nothing more than a peasant with haggard rags, and yet you see something cosmic beneath it all. But he, much like Lovecraftian horror, doesn't care for your being and always plagues your thoughts.
Bro: Forehead, Hands, Arms
He's a lover, and a fighter, and that's why it sucks when he's so far from HQ, because that underlying worry that he may not return creeps up on you. Sure, since you're both on Team Child, you practically joined at the hip, but it hurts when you're so far apart. Luckily, there's nothing that a few kisses can't fix. Something tangible, something to hold; Bro really is your rock in this god-forsaken world. Kiss his forehead, particularly with his bandana (idk the jinki's name) on, before he leaves for a mission—says it helps. Kiss his hands because just like Gris, the amount of effort he puts into caring for Dear and Guita and you, whilst tackling the duties of a cleaner. And finally, kiss his arms if you truly want to express your gratitude.
Guita: Face, Stomach
Go for it, dude. Straight up pounce on her. She loves it when you pepper her face with kisses; she sucks at being sneaky, so you can steal a cheek kiss or two if you're greedy. I recommend distracting her with food before coming in for the attack. But it's not enough to distract her when you're play-fighting! If you truly want to overtake her, tickle her stomach. That's the mighty kaiju's weak point! She'll get the giggles once her stomach's exposed, but it'll be tough to open her onesie.
Corvus: Mouth
This world is ruthless. Unbecoming. Full of literal filth. There′s a lot of soul-searching when you′re searching for a soul. That lick of mystery 'neath this mess; it's horrifying how much you truly don't know and can never fathom of the Ground. So when this world overstimulates your senses, plaguing your mind with even the mundanity of routine, there's Corvus. Strangely, but not too strangely, he brings solace. Probably because you've been losing sleep over nightmares and dreams and toxins and hallucinations and everything in between, and you're a little burnt out of everything but also quite caffeinated by the unknown. Thank Corvus for that. Thank this man for offering his hand and asking for your love. In the most ungodly hours of the night, lying awake in bed, still giddy, still jittery; you almost died today. You could've died today, but you didn't, and that's great, but you did worry your man a little. So once you recovered enough, you hobble your way into his office, in the dead of night, all haggard and ghastly. And you kiss him. You kiss his lips in fervor; they're anchors for your sanity because you truly felt like you'll float away if you didn't hold onto him.
Semiu: Jaw, Neck, Waist, Hips
Forgive me, but I see her as a dom. Maybe a switch, but she's definitely a better top. She holds down the fort, so she can hold you down. You're under her, whether during sex or not; just hiding in her neck, suckling her jaw, and lining her jugular vein, all with such a resting bitch face. You'd better work for her love; she wasn't the easiest when it comes to opening up, but God was it worth it. Even if it's just crumbs of affection, it's better than nothing. You're always craving for her cookie, so if you're so desperate, you can hide underneath the desk and kiss her waist before she decides if you're worthy.
August: Anywhere
Literally everything's fair game. Why's he gotta pick a spot? Can't he love you regardless?! He loves feeling your soft lips all over his body. Just savoring each one like a blessing, buzzing with more energy. You're like, the only person he lets in his studio, and the ONLY person that is allowed to distract him. Sometimes. Respect his genius, alright? But once he's free, you can have whatever you like. Dogpile on him, cover him in kisses. Feeling frisky~? Ask, and you shall receive. Or dominate, who knows~?
Eishia: Face, Hands
Similar to her brother, she doesn't have a particular preference. Just anywhere. On her face. You...you want to kiss her cheek? O-Ok! You-you thought she's feeling a little frazzled? She was, but she feels better now that you kissed her forehead. Sometimes, you've got no reason, going up and kissing her out of pure sugary affection. You kiss her nose, and she turns a little pink. But what really gets her flustered is when you kiss her hands. Yes, you, once again, end up in the infirmary, slipping from consciousness, worrying Eishia in the process. But as per usual, she comes in clutch with Type: Heal. So out of gratitude, you grasp those hands of hers and kiss the warm fabric. God, you're gonna make her blow a fuse.
Zodyl: Mouth, Jaw
Once, in the privacy of a ramshackle home, he told you he doesn't feel human. Nebulous, animalistic, something not humanoid. You merely...hum; the Watchman series was supposed to fill a piece of what's once lost. Perhaps Mishra didn't fill his humanity. You thought he was human, that he still is, and if not, you'll remind him. He's always experimenting. Human saliva is such a simple fluid: 99.5% water, with the remaining 0.5% being electrolytes, mucus, proteins, enzymes, and antimicrobial agents. That must mean your fluids are nutrients, meaning he must keep consuming your saliva to contain the gradual amount of vitamins and minerals. However, it seems the jaw evokes...something within him. Arousal, so that's what keeps him from defenestrating you out of his lap. He wants you to stay, to keep him grounded, to remind him of humanity.
Jabber: Anywhere
Kiss him, lick him, bite him—oh god please bite him—chew him up and spit him out, DESTROY HIM. Anywhere, everywhere. Give him heaven and hell and purgatory. He doesn't get all giddy for no reason. K, maybe he does, but he really gets riled up when you're on top of him. Or when he's on top of you. Rolling around in the dirt, in the sheets, like two wild animals, biting, maiming, struggling for control, for dominance; sometimes you've gotten straight up roast Jabber because he gives up so easily. Swordplay foreplays one of his specialties; hands around his neck, like you're a killer. A little pain and pleasure make it all better. If neither of you is wrecked to the core, you're not done here, so get back to work.
Fu: Anywhere
As if he's got a preference. Just smooch him! He doesn't mind, so long as it makes you happy, because it sure does make him happy. Fu is all for receiving affection; your kisses are more than enough for him. They're more like rewards than anything. You think he's cute? Then he'll keep being cute if it means he'll keep making you happy.
Cthoni: Shoulder
She doesn't know why, but every other area of her body just triggers her. Whenever you get close to her, she wants to punch you. You can't sneak up on her, or else you will get a black eye. It's just her shoulders that don't spark her reflex. She just...doesn't feel it. You tell her it's her body not activating her fight-or-flight response. She just shrugs it off. If you kiss beyond that, you've crossed the line. Get ready to get clocked in the face. This is like the knee-jerk reflex test but ten times worse 😭.
Momoa: Forehead, Nose
It's truly these blanks where Momoa doesn't feel tangible, much less human, to be frank. Sometimes, she's in the void, floating along a wave that sways in the rhythm of her music. Maybe she's at the bottom of the ocean, away from the surface, listening to the whale songs echoing in the abyss. But there's nothing like a kiss on the nose that doesn't make you feel cute. She says it makes her feel...warm...a little, like those stray kittens she sees walking around. Does that mean you're comparing her to a kitten? No? Maybe? Momoa doesn't really do much with the info, merely humming, whether in song or acceptance, you're not sure. What she doesn't understand is when you kiss her forehead before she sleeps. Nothing but darkness—the void—except for the oblong silhouette of a person. She calls you a weirdo, but couldn't sleep afterwards. She...feels warm...and it doesn't stop. Maybe...maybe that's a good thing.
@spirit-tree-bois says: I was not prepared for this in the slightest... In the best way possible, absolute work of art! So, who wins the round of cards👀👀👀
☆ cw. . . fem!reader, perverted men, modern au, mean!enjin, fantasizing, jerking off using your panties, panty sniffing, exhibitionism, voyuerism, reader is dating enjin but enjin is a show off. ft. gris, bro, and corvus | part one here
"whoever beats me gets to take a pair of her panties home t'night...and i'll make sure to make her cum in them before i hand 'em over. who's in?"
oh, he wasn't lying. enjin would never, ever lie about something like this, not when he could easily see how the three men across from him were practically bursting at the seams of their jeans at the thought of having a piece of you all to themselves if they won this card game.
and low and behold, he did win, just like enjin expected.
"alright, buddy, let me go collect your prize," he hums with a chuckle, grinning like a maniac. he knew his friends were freaks, but to get that competitive over a pair of sticky panties? man, these guys were nasty. "give me 5 minutes with her, and they'll be nice and wet for ya. you other two? eh, maybe next time you'll get lucky, yeah?"
when gris made it back to his apartment, the first thing he did after slamming the door shut was huff the sticky fabric, smushing it against his face.
he didn't care if the slick rubbed off and got on his skin, fuck, if anything he wish it was real, wish it was him rubbing his face all over that pretty cunt.
he's so nasty and he knows it, he doesn't fucking care, as he somehow stumbles into his room, falling onto his knees right in front of the bed as he hungrily drags his tongue against the gusset of your panties, moaning like a slut at the tangy flavor of your cum on his tongue.
"fffuuuck, oh my god, you taste s'fucking good," he rasps, laughing deliriously as his hips start grinding into the side of the bed.
he wishes you could see him right now, see him so destroyed just by the taste of you from fabric. he wonders if you'd be mean like enjin, if you'd tease him for being so desperate he's humping his bed like a dog in heat.
or maybe you'd be the nicer of the two, maybe you'd coo at him, play with his hair, kiss his cheeks before pulling him between your legs like the little angel you are.
"it's okay, gris, don' listen to jin, he's mean," you'd say, all soft and sweet, pretty fingers parting yourself for him to see all of you. "c'mon, don't you wanna taste it from the source?"
it's embarrassing how fast he cums from the thought of you giving him permission to eat you out, permission to put his mouth on you, his nose buried in your panties as he groans your name, ruining his boxers as he twitches, hot cum pouring out of him.
he's so fucking ruined, he doesn't know if he can give these back to you in one piece. and he just knows he's even more fucked when he pulls out his phone after hearing the text notification, just to see enjin sent him a picture, a picture of you with enjin's hand around your neck, hands clawing at his arms as you pout, clearly trying to knock the phone out of his hand.
'poor thing is embarrassed cuz shes creamin on me knowin ur prolly huffin her panties'
and he's right, he's so fucking right, and gris swears he's gone to heaven when he sees it, that thick, frothy ring of white, sticky cream around the base of enjin's cock that's halfway inside of your perfect, absolutely perfect pussy.
'hrry up n come down from ur afterglow man n facetime me so u can see it live ,its so cute her pussy is so loud'
'gris? u there?'
enjin is gonna have to wait, because the mental image of you trying to huff and make noise so the sounds of your poor hole sucking your boyfriend's cock inside are drowned out sent him over the edge again.
poor, poor bro was trembling when enjin dropped the fabric in his hands, looking at it like it was a fragile treasure he had to be mindful not to break. but the worst part?
oh, fuck, the worst part was how enjin purposefully left the bedroom door open, giving bro a perfect view of you trying to catch your breath on the bed. hips up, face down as you trembled, thighs shiny from your slick, the same sticky wetness that soaked the fabric in his hands.
and the way you moaned, it was replaying in his head over, and over, and over again, pleading, begging for enjin to give you something more, that his fingers weren't enough, you needed something thicker in you, jesus—
"go home, man, before you bust in your damn jeans," enjin laughed, smacking him on the back as the poor man burned hot in the face. "don't waste your load, bro. she'll want a nice picture of her panties covered in it."
he's never driven home so fast in his life, couldn't even make it inside. no, the poor man parked in his garage, hurriedly turning off the car and undoing his belt with shaky hands.
"c'mon, c'mon, shit, c'mon..." finally, with a relieved groan, he got his cock out, thick and throbbing from need, a thick bead of precum bubbling out his tip before dripping down the underside...his boxers were absolutely ruined, long, thick strands of the precum he was leaking on the drive home connecting to his lap.
"i-i'm such a mess."
and he is, because he doesn't even hesitate, tucking his jeans and underwear under his balls so he could get a good grip around his dick, fisting himself with your panties in his hand with a wet moan of your name, hips bucking up.
"s-shit, mami, y'so fucking pretty, goddd, i'd...i-i'd fill you up so good, wish i could've helped," comes his pathetic whines, rubbing the crotch of your panties riiiiight on his tip, making sure to soak it with his precum. if only he could cum in them and watch you slide them back up your legs, hear the wet squish of his cum against your pussy...
fuck it, he thought, reaching for his phone, a picture isn't going to be enough, not for her, as he opens up his camera app and slides it to video mode.
now, corvus wanted to knock enjin out cold, he really did. after all, he was bigger than enjin, he could easily do it if he wanted to...because the way he was teasing him was not helping his at all.
"sorry, man, she got a lil' excited when she heard you were the winner, so i had to help calm her down a bit," the dumb, idiotic blonde grinned, not bothering to wipe the wetness that soaked his face off. he was absolutely dripping in you, his shirt soaked from you squirting on him not once, not twice, but three times.
and corvus just stood there, smiling like nothing was wrong.
like he didn't hear you crying out his name instead of enjin's.
like he didn't hear you begging, pleading, "p-please, arkhaaa, make jin stoppp, i-i can't cum anymore, pleeease" as your boyfriend ate you out over those pretty, yellow panties enjin was holding out for him to take...because now?
now he knows how you sound when you cum, screaming his name.
"you are a very, very cruel man, enjin, you should be nicer to her," is all he can manage, voice tight as he snatches the yellow fabric out of his tattooed hands and shoves it in his pocket. and of course, enjin doesn't miss the way his hand stays inside his pocket, knowing corvus' thumb is likely rubbing over the absolutely soaked fabric.
enjin just shrugs, looking him dead in the eye. "she likes it when 'm mean to her." he brings his hand up to his face, catching corvus' attention. his hand is still soaked. he can see you dripping off his fingers. "besides..." two of his fingers slide into his mouth, enjin's eyes fluttering with a moan as your taste coats his tongue. with a wet pop, he pulls them out, tongue swiping over his lips, a movement he watches corvus' eyes follow.
"she's just sad you didn't come in to save her. poor thing's all worried mr. corvus didn't think she sounded good enough for him to come in and see her pussy gettin' played with."
with a rough shove, he's outside of enjin's apartment, shock written all over his face, that put-together facade finally shattered. "better make it up to her, arkha. only a video of her panties wrapped around your dick 's gonna make the poor thing feel better."
After a night of heavy drinking you wake up to the worst headache known to mankind, a ball of nausea sitting in your belly, and a ring on your finger. You know clearly where the first two came from but the shiny band? Yeah, that one completely stumps you. Looking around your place you see that you're alone, except for a marriage certificate with unreadable signatures and a Polaroid of a group of Cleaners.
You're the only one showing of a ring so you have no idea who in the image is your spouse, how you got married or by whom but at least the photo is a lead. So getting and answer and annulment should be easy.....right?
warnings: pantyfucking, brat taming, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, semi-public sex, fingering, dry humping, sex against the wall, gris lifts you up…. lmk if i missed anything!
BRO SANTA!
i think bro is a brat tamer. he lets you believe that you get your way when you order him around and bat your eyelashes, but when you get home it’s a different story. sure he’ll comply, but he never forgets.
bro is always exhausted. having to deal with dear’s temper tantrums, and your attitude, he wants nothing more than to relax in his room. his peace doesn’t last long tho.
here you come, barging in showing him the new combat heels you wanted him to get for you, he’s had just about enough!
“you know, you’ve been a real pain all day” he whispers. his hands fidgeting with the waistband of your underwear. he’s got one of your legs on his shoulders, his bulge lightly brushing against your clit with each move.
you’re not looking at him. arms crossed over your chest, head turned to the side, biting on your lips to prevent any noises from slipping out.
albeit you’re a pain in his ass, bro loves it when you act like this. trying so hard to deny him and yourself, to hold on to your dignity. it makes it even more entertaining when he gets to fuck the act right out of you.
“you not talking to me?” he smirks, hands freeing himself from the confines of his briefs. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop down to his cock, as he gives it a few light strokes, tapping it against the thin lace of your panties.
he starts with slow, shallow thrusts. the motions creating unavoidable friction against your heat.
“mmh’ bro, take it off” you huff.
“no i don’t think i will” he states. thrusts getting more and more intense as he picks up speed. a visible wet patch now forming on the fabric that separates you two.
“please bro ‘m really sorry. just want to feel you”
“oh yeah? what happened to all that attitude?” he murmurs. “you get a little worn out and now you’re obedient?” a small smirk tugging at his lips. “don’t make me start scheduling your naps too”. you whine, eyes growing glossier by the second.
you’re getting close and he can only handle so much pleasure without skin to skin contact. sure this was meant to teach you a lesson, but he doesn’t want to punish himself either.
he hooks a finger in the lace, pulling them to the side, hips faltering from the newfound stimulation. it isn’t long before white spurts coat your abdomen, hips writhing against his cock with pure pleasure. you’re absolutely ruined.
“please- m’sorry. i’m really really sorry. just please- put it in?”
yeah, he fixed that attitude right up!
GRIS!
i think he might be relatively vanilla honestly. he’s such a sweetheart tho, especially when it comes to you and your pleasure. but it’s no secret, he’s so strong!
you’re sitting on his lap. one leg on either side of his thighs. what started out as a steamy makeout session has slowly shifted into the two of you grinding against each others body. his hands hold you close as you move your hips back and forth, head falling back in pure ecstasy.
“need more gris, i need more” you whine, hips increasing in speed.
“yeah? you want more, pretty? okay baby i got you”. before you know it, you’re being lifted up. arms instinctually holding his neck. he walks you over to a wall, peppering kisses down your neck.
“ah! gris careful” your thighs clench around his waist.
“don’t worry princess, ‘m not gonna drop you. just hold on tight, yeah?” he says, freeing himself from the confines of his boxers.
“mkay, but what about my under-” you’re cut off by the sound of a loud rriipp. the fabric gives under his grip before he can stop it. he freezes for a second, eyes flicking up to yours
“…shit. i didn’t mean to do that” he says, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.
“gris! this was my favourite pair” you huff.
“‘m so sorry baby, promise i’ll make it up to you later, k? promise” he mutters. lining up his cock with your entrance. slowly, he pushes himself in, hips stuttering when you hiss at the stretch.
“still good?” he asks, thumb brushing against your hip. he’s got his forehead pressed against yours, small kisses planted along your jawline. his hips still as you adjust to his size.
“mmh gris! fuck you’re so b-big”
he smirks. steadily finding his pace in his thrusts. his hands tighten around your thighs so you don’t slip.
“i’ve got you. just relax for me”
ZODYL!
maybe an unpopular opinion but i almost see a switch vibe?? maybe.
i think he’s also very quiet and attentive. he lets his actions speak for himself. he knows every inch of your body like the back of his hand, analyzing what makes you twitch, what makes you moan, even what makes you cry.
but i think i speak for everyone when i say he’s a munchhhhh. considering he needs to eat to activate his vital instrument then it’s only right :}
he’s got his hands caressing your waist, his hands lifting up the bottom of your shirt with each circle. the only time zodyl would ever accept being on his knees for anyone was if it meant he’d get a taste of your sweet pussy. he’s got one of your knees on his shoulders, prioritizing maximum pleasure over comfortability.
“hold here. it’ll keep you steady” he grunts. his hands bringing yours to the top of head. your fingers are entangled in his indigo locks, as you watch his tongue find your heat once again. rough, languid licks are left from your clit to your hole, thick fingers prodding at your entrance.
“wait, zo- ‘m not sure if this is the right place to be-” you’re cut off when you feel two of his digits inside you. a consistent pummel that makes your upper body topple over and fold into him. as the speed of his fingers increase, so does his tongue. your hands now tugging his hair as you try to push him away, overwhelmed by the stimulation.
zodyl isn’t phased. despite a random alley not being his favourite place to appreciate you like this, he can only handle so much repulsive food before even he needs a good cleaning (for lack of a better word lol).
“no. can’t stop until you squirt for me. need something to wash out the taste”
cws // 18+. fem reader -> reader is a stripper. brief mention of past sex work (reader). threesome. crybaby reader. double penetration. breath play. oral. cream pie. overstimulation.
wc // 8.2k
Bro and Gris had been friends for years, and the two had frequently referred to each other as brothers to describe their bond.
People were always shocked to find that the two were close, Cleaners included, considering that these days it was more common to see Bro toting around a grumpy Dear, having a mutual yap session with Guita, or practically nipping at your heels like an overgrown puppy.
But there had been a time when you didn't see one man without the other. Before Dear had come into the picture and Team Child had been formed, Bro had been a member of Team Akuta. Him and Gris had clicked instantly, and it hadn't taken long for the two to become as thick as thieves. They laughed together, partied together, got pissy drunk together and became enlightened in their mutual love for fucking.
They were deviants separately in their own right, but together they became something worse, something debauched — something to whisper about when they walked into their venue of choice for the night, something to giggle and gasp about when the details of their exploits reached gossip-hungry ears, something to think about late at night when you had a hand stuffed down your underwear and wishing it had been you sandwiched between the two men.
They were notorious in the night scene of the East Ward, not to mention the West Ward, and the South Ward, and they would have been known in the North too if Bro hadn't whined about his balls freezing off from the cold.
They had shared partners more times than they could remember, and they had always left them in a state of disarray — lips swollen and slick with cum; hair matted and dripping with sweat; bodies littered with blooming bruises; nipples pinched and sucked tender; asses spanked raw; holes stretched out and leaking spit and cum.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute, let me get this straight." You speak from where you're curled up in Bro's lap, your feet balanced on his thigh and your head leaned against his shoulder. "You two, father of the year who still cries when Dear loses a tooth and mister can't drive faster than thirty miles per hour or he'll get motion sickness—"
It wasn't something they broadcasted to all of the Ground, but word got around regardless, and despite Bro trying his best to keep it away from your ears, it reached them anyways.
"--I don't cry, I just get a little misty-eyed."
"--I'm not gonna be embarrassed for having a sensitive stomach."
"—are the infamous duo I keep hearing about?" Your eyes flit between the two of them, disbelief clear on your face. You're trying to imagine them in the many, many scenarios your coworkers, friends, and anyone who frequented the night scene had gushed about, but you just can't. "You're bullshitting me."
"We are. So just drop it." Bro waves his hand as if trying to dispel the conversation, his arm draping over your shoulder and pulling you closer to his chest.
Gris is sitting on the couch across from the two of you, a flicker of amusement passing over his face, and you narrow your eyes on him. He meets your gaze, one eyebrow slightly raising, and you narrow your eyes even more.
"Do you have any birthmarks?"
"Left asscheek. Looks like a--"
"--monkey if you squint? Holy shit!" You squeal in a mix of shock and excitement and Bro groans as if you've just discovered the worst horror of the world. "You two are absolute whores! I mean, I knew about him," you poke at Bro's stomach, getting a faux offended 'hey' in return, "but you? That's honestly very hard to believe. You're like, the textbook definition of chivalrous and gentlemanly."
"You think I'm chivalrous?" He chuckles and you nod, your hand smacking at the one currently squishing at your cheeks.
"Absolutely. You're probably more of a feminist —quit it, babe— than me." Bro tugs on your ear next, ignoring your demand, and you huff out a breath and pull at the short hairs on his forearm, earning a smack against your hip that forces a laugh out of you.
"Just because I respect women doesn't mean I can't fuck them like I don't." You laugh again, more out of shock than anything, and you're starting to see it now. "It's called duality."
You tilt your head up to look at Bro, and he swipes his thumb over your lips. "So you guys did a bit, right? Like good cop, bad cop? Who was the bad cop?" You ask, but you already know the answer. It definitely wasn't the man you called your boyfriend for the past year — as free as Bro got in the bedroom, he never ventured close to anything you would call mean.
He was sickeningly sweet - honeyed words that had a tendency to carry a bit of spice, and a touch so sure and gentle (gentle when he wanted to be) that you could come from that alone, and often did. He was your sweet man -nasty, too- and he fit the bill of good cop perfectly.
So that means...
Your eyes slowly go back to Gris, and he winks at you, a dimple popping up in his cheek as he smiles. Your stomach flutters, a feeling that he has never elicited in you, and you blink once as you realize you maybe, possibly, definitely can understand why they have so many admirers.
"Why're you so curious?" Bro says it in your ear, one hand tugging at the end of your shirt before finally slipping underneath it. His fingers are warm against your skin, and you can't help the breathy giggle you let out when they skitter across your waist and stomach.
"I just am. The girls at work talk about you two all the time, you know, but I didn't know they were talking about y'all. They act like —Santa— you're gods or something." You give him a weak warning when his hand ventures further up, yet make no move to stop him. "I can't wanna know a bit about it? You guys practically fucked all my coworkers."
You and Gris are still locked in a staring contest, and your lips part when Bro takes your breast in his hand and squeezes, his breath hot on your neck as he kisses it.
"You sound jealous." Gris says, eyes still on yours, even as your shirt begins to rise from your perv of a boyfriend's behavior. He's always been touchy and affectionate in public, especially in front of the guys as if he was trying to show you off or stake some kind of claim over you, but this feels a bit.. different. Not that you mind.
"Who wouldn't be after finding out their boyfriend fucked his way through the entire population with his best friend." You suck in a sharp breath when your shirt raises fully, heaving breasts on display, and despite the many nights that you had spent dancing on a stage in a packed club wearing much less than this, a wave of bashfullness crashes over you.
You look away first, but not before catching Gris's smirk. "Stop exaggerating." Bro flicks your nipples, the buds hardening from his ministrations, and you gasp and maneuver so you're facing him while straddling his lap - your chest hidden from view. He chuckles and pulls you flush against him, his chin resting on your head as he tugs your shirt back down for you. "Why're you acting shy, baby?"
You grumble something under your breath, and he pats your ass, letting his hands rest there after and knead at you through the thin cotton of your pants. You can't decide if you like the fact that Gris is likely -hopefully- watching the intimate display. "Can't hear you, mami."
"Did you like any of them?"
"Of course not. I didn't even cum - honest." You pull back to give him an annoyed look, and he drops a kiss onto your nose. "Don't worry about that, it's in the past. That's over with." You feel a bit.. disappointed.
"So you'd never do it again?" His eyebrows furrow in a frown. "Never ever? Even if it was with someone you really, really liked?"
"Never. I don't like anyone but you. Why would I..." His voice trails off, something flickering in his eyes, and you tuck your head back under his chin. "You're not slick, girl." He pats your ass again, this time harder, and you jolt in his lap, teeth softly sinking into your bottom lip. "You want to fuck him."
"I-no! Well--not just him." You lean back a bit to look up at Bro through your lashes, a trick that hasn't failed you once. "Both of you. Like you guys used to do." It's your turn to rub at his chest, fingers splaying across the wide expanse of it, and you shift in his lap. His grip on your ass tightens and you put an arch in your back, your tongue slipping out to flick at his bottom lip. He feints as if he's going to bite it, and you pull it back with a smile.
"You're talking to the wrong one." He suddenly grips your chin and turns your head so you're once again looking at Gris, and you can't stop the pout from forming on your lips. "Go on - what do you say?"
"...fuck me." Bro snorts and buries his face into your hair.
Gris doesn't find it as funny.
"You ask, not demand. I'm not your easy ass boyfriend." You frown and go to open your mouth in a retort, but he cuts you off before you get the first syllable out. "If I don't like what you say next then the answer is no."
You snap your mouth shut and Bro's shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. You feel his lips at your ear after a moment. "If you be nice I'll eat your pussy tonight." You roll your eyes.
"Duh. You do that every night."
"Yeah, but I'll do that thing you like too."
"...the thing with your...?" He hums and you take in a deep breath before letting it out slow. You look at Gris similar to the way you look at Bro when you're gearing up to ask him to do a near-impossible task. "Gris... Will you please .. fuck me?"
He watches you for a moment in silence, and you don't know why your heart begins to race in your chest but it does. It's Gris. The tales of the two of them are probably just that - tales. Tall ones at that. Bro could fuck the best under the table, but Gris? You're not even sure why you're so interested. You always recognized that he was attractive, but your thoughts never really ventured further, and not due to your relationship.
You and Bro didn't get worked up about stuff like that, hence why you hadn't flown off the handle at the reveal of his past sexual exploits. You were just a dancer now, but you had been known to get intimate in the VIP room of the club with your more tolerated clients, which had led to you ending up with Bro. You had shut down that operation when you two made things official by no request of his. He had met you at work and didn't expect you to give up any money just because he had latched onto you like a stubborn tick, and you him, but you had anyways. Partly due to a sense of respect and partly due to the fact you couldn't get wet for anyone but him after he had fucked you for the first time.
Well, it's not just him anymore, is it..
Suddenly, Gris grins, the sight sending a jolt of excitement, apprehension and fear all wrapped up together straight down to the junction between your thighs.
You twist and turn in the mirror, adjusting the strings of your outfit as you do, if you could even call it an outfit. It's truthfully just a few scraps of fabric tied together with thin strings, a few pieces big enough to cover your areolas and the place between your thighs.
You think you may regret this.
It's a white set that you had found stashed away in the bottom of your locker - the set that you had originally worn when you first met Bro. You've gained a few pounds since then, the strings sinking into the meat of your hips, ass and waist. Your breasts threaten to burst free at any second, a plus considering this is a strip club, and you smile at your reflection as you apply a bit of lip gloss.
You think you look perfect for tonight, even if you can still see the dark hickies Bro had left on your inner thighs last night. Besides, you'll have a lot more to join them once he and Gris finally show up.
Gris had agreed to your original request, and had even agreed to the following ones you had made. You wanted them how everyone else had them — you didn't want the Bro that you were used to, as much as you absolutely loved him. You wanted the version of him that you had been forced to hear about for months on end, the one that seemed so different from what you experienced every night.
So you had told them to make a trip to your job, a lively little strip club in the heart of the East Ward that you had been working at for the past few years. The building saw its fair share of Cleaners, Bro and Gris excluded due to their apparent retirement from the night scene, and the red carpet was always rolled out when any of them stepped foot in the place.
They'd get a bit of the treatment they used to receive back in the day from the staff - a bit of fawning, a bit of ogling, and a whole lot of attempts to drag them into private dances, and in return you'd get tag teamed by a duo you hadn't been able to get out of your head since you knew of their existence.
You had been nothing short of a bitch in heat these past few weeks. You had practically jumped Bro whenever you got him alone, and you were nearly destitute due to all the bribing you had done to get Enjin to play babysitter for Dear. That's part of the reason why it had taken so long to finally put the plan into action - you had to work to recoup your losses, as well as the fact that Bro and Gris didn't exactly operate on a 9-5 schedule.
They had been busy these past few weeks too, traveling from ward to ward to save this place and that place. They had only just gotten back a couple days ago, and rather than letting them rest and regain their strength and lick at their bruises, you told them it was happening tonight.
You didn't think you could wait any longer—you refused to wait any longer.
A torrent of squeals and excited screams suddenly drown out the music, and you take that as your cue to leave the dressing room.
Your heels click against the floor as you walk, and you step out into the club. The lights are dark, a neon glow emanating from the various signs scattered on the walls, and an upbeat song plays throughout the speakers, the bass felt underneath your feet. There's a small crowd near the bar, and your stomach flutters when two familiar heads stand above the rest.
"Griiiis, baby!" An older dancer named April, who you don't particularly care for, sings as she throws herself into his chest. He smiles and wraps an arm around her waist, head dipping as he places a kiss on the crown on her head, and you swallow down the feeling that scratches its way up your throat as you make your way your way over.
A manicured hand reaches out for Bro's hand, a hand not belonging to you, and he smooths at the front of his button-down in a nice attempt to dodge it. His eyes find yours, teeth flashing in a show of a smile, and then they drop down to what you're wearing. When they flick back up his lids are lower, smile less joyful and more.. hungry. You match it.
Your hips sway as you approach him, his eyes following like a pendulum, but then a body is sidling up to him, having taken advantage of the moment of distraction. Before you can do anything about that your view is being blocked, the face of one of your regulars appearing.
"I didn't know you were workin' tonight, gorgeous." The urge to skirt around him is strong, but he's your biggest tipper, and you are working tonight, technically. You suppress a heavy sigh and flash him a sultry smile instead.
"Of course. I heard my favorite guy was coming and I just had to pop in to see him." Red floods his cheeks as he rubs his hand over the stubble on his jaw. "Grab a seat at the bar and I'll come take care of you later, mkay?" You trail your hand down his arm and to his own hand to give it a gentle squeeze. It's clammy, his nerves showing, but you're used to it. He gives a jerky nod and walks off to the sit down, and you turn back to find Bro, only to see him engrossed in a conversation with one of the girls.
It seems like they know each other, with the way they laugh and talk, and you suppose she does know him, probably intimately well. God, why had you suggested this place again? You had thought it was a good idea, the perfect place to set the mood for the filth you had hoped would be unwinding right about now, but they were too busy talking with your fucking coworkers. They hadn't even said a single word to you!
A sudden thought comes to mind, and it morphs into an idea with worrying speed. You pivot on your heel and head back to Damon, your regular, and drape yourself across his back. He jumps as your breasts press into him, and you prop your chin on his shoulder so you can talk directly into his ear.
"On second thought, I think I'd rather play with you now. Let's dance." You tug on his shirt, and he nearly stumbles with how quickly he shoots up from his stool. The commotion brings a horde of eyes, two pairs that you're acutely aware of, and a smug little grin plays at your lips as you grab Damon's hand and lead him to an empty booth, a dramatic sway in your hips as you go.
You push him down onto the seat and straddle him a second later, hands pawing at his chest as you smile down at him. "I missed you. Did you miss me, too?"
He gives a jerky nod and you roll your hips against him. "Y-yeah. I didn't see you last —fuck— week so I've been going through a bit of a withdrawal." He jokes and you let out an exaggerated giggle.
"Then I guess I've got a bit of making up to do then, huh?" You spin around so your back is to him, and your eyes fall onto an annoyed Bro and an amused Gris who sips at a beer as he stands beside his friend. He leans over and says something to him, his gaze not straying from you, and you grab Damon's hands and drag them up your body. They glide up your hips then around to your stomach, and then finally up to your breasts that he grips a bit too hard in his eagerness. You rock down onto him, and Bro's look of annoyance quickly morphs into a rare display of anger.
Your lips part at the sight.
You can't properly admire just how sexy he looks when he's pissed off before he's crossing the room, wrapping his hand around your wrist, and yanking you up to your feet and into his chest. You stumble into him, a gasp of his name on your tongue.
"What the fuck, man?" Damon snaps.
He tears his eyes away from you to glare at a disgruntled Damon, and you watch as the man goes white in the face and promptly shuts the hell up - smart. You bite your lip at the display, not putting up a fuss when he pulls you to the back of the club. Security makes a move to intervene but you wave them off and give a thumbs up, then point behind you to Gris who follows. They make an 'okay' sign with their fingers, already having heard your debrief about the two men that you had been expecting tonight.
Bro drags you into the private room, causing your feet to trip over each other in the heels you're wearing, and he's considerate enough to right you before you go tumbling down.
You pull out of his hold and turn to face him, sculpted brows pinched together and hands positioned on your hips. He crowds you further into the room, Gris entering a moment later and closing the door behind him, and you take a step back just for Bro to take two forward.
"I don't see what the problem is."
"You don't see the problem with fucking some random dude in front of me?" He glares down at you, the sight making you pause for a second, but you quickly find your footing in the conversation.
"It was a lap dance." You roll your eyes. "A lap dance that either of you could have had if you bothered to pull your noses out of my coworkers assholes." Gris snorts before walking over to the stocked minibar in the room and pouring himself a drink - whiskey on the rocks.
"She was talking to me. Don't throw me in with that pendejo." He jerks his head in the direction of Gris, the man now on his second glass. "I was at the fucking bar while you were dragging your pussy across that walking fucking shit stain."
"His name is Damon and he's my regular."
Bro spits something out in his native tongue, upper lip curled in distaste, and it's utterly embarrassing how quickly your mood shifts at the way the words fly off his tongue, his accent growing thicker the more he speaks.
While you're busy deciding on whether to suck him or fuck him first, Gris has already decided on the sequence of events that are about to play out. His shirt is off and unceremoniously tossed onto the bar, revealing muscles that tense and flex with every movement. A blonde trail of hair starts at his navel and disappears underneath the waistband of his pants, pants that tent forward as his cock swells in his bottoms.
Bro is arguing with himself when Gris steps up behind him, rant not faltering when the younger man undoes his belt with practiced movements and pops the button on his jeans. With a shove they fall down and pool around his ankles, leaving him in a pair of checkered boxers, and then Gris steps around to you.
You look up at him, and before you can think a single thought, a strong hand is gripping the back of your neck and tugging you closer. His mouth crashes down against yours, tongue forcing its way past your lips, and your hands fly to his shoulders in shock.
The kiss is all-consuming. He doesn't wait for you to catch up and reciprocate, fully content in taking control. The liquor on his tongue is strong and bitter, and he forces you to taste it, swallow it. Just as your chest burns with the need to breathe he pulls back, but just like before, he doesn't allow you to do much of anything before he's pushing you down to your knees and using the grip on your neck to push your face into Bro's crotch.
"I didn't come here to listen to you two go back and forth all night." Bro's cock stirs to life underneath his boxers, and your hands brace against his thighs as you try to push yourself back, but Gris's grip on the back of your neck is unrelenting.
"Oh, really? Could have fooled me, because you surely didn't come here for me, you as—" Your words stop short when his face appears beside your own, eyes hot as they lock onto yours.
"You're still talking?" His other hand comes up to grip your cheeks, his fingers digging into the fat of them until you're forced to open your mouth. "You let her get away with too much, Bro. She's got no manners." He pushes a finger inside and presses down on your tongue, and your thighs squeeze together as you try to speak. "Shut up." He adds another finger and pushes it in deeper, the long digits seeming to stretch on forever. He hits your gag reflex, and tears pool in your eyes as you choke around his fingers. "That's the only sound I wanna hear right now - so open that pretty mouth nice and wide and show me you know how to listen."
He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, your spit shiny on them, and you take in a ragged breath. You go to say something, anything, because it's in your nature — you've never been talked down to, never been reprimanded, and it makes you want to rise up and rebel, but it also makes your thighs sticky and your clit throb, so you tug down the waistband of your boyfriend's boxers and lick a long stripe up the side of his cock.
It's hot and heavy and musky, and you breathe his scent in as your tongue flattens over his tip, lashes fluttering when he groans your name. His pre floods your tastebuds, drowning out the taste of bourbon and Gris, and the muscles in his thighs tense when you suck on his tip before quickly taking as much of him as you can to the back of your throat.
You gag, vision blurring, and a hand pulls at the strings of your outfit until it lays in a pile on the floor. You're completely bare before them and your nerves buzz at the feeling, goosebumps rising up on your skin.
"Look at how she's dripping just from having a cock in her throat." Gris' fingers reach underneath you to swipe at your folds, and you moan around Bro. "I see why you're always letting her run that mouth; you always were weak for some wet pussy."
"And she's got the wettest - jurar. Damn near drown every time I eat her out." They talk about you as if you're not there, as if Bro isn't forcing himself further down your throat and Gris isn't tapping his finger against the hood of your clit.
"Yeah?" Gris hums, his hand suddenly shoving you forward, and you choke and gag as Bro bottoms out in your throat, his cock twitching and throbbing. Spit soaked balls are pressed to your chin, and your nails bite into his skin as your airway is cut off. "You haven't trained her throat yet?"
"Fuuuck. She always taps out before I can get a chance." His voice is strained, and you push at his thighs, chest beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen. "See?"
"Breathe through your nose." Gris pinches your nostrils together before releasing them. "That thing right there -- breathe." You try to shake your head but can't. Your nose feels clogged, your senses muddled and in overdrive all at once. Before black can start creeping into the edges of your vision Bro pulls back, heavy cock slipping out of your mouth and pushing up to rest on your face.
You cough and gasp for air, tears spilling from your eyes, and Bro wipes them away with his thumb. "Cielo, don't cry." He coos, and Gris's hand leaves your neck as Bro squats down. He gives you a soft kiss, the temper from earlier nowhere to be seen, and wipes the spit off your cheek.
"Fucking enabler."
"You'd enable her too if you had a taste of her pussy. Speaking of.." Bro guides you up to your feet, and your skin warms when his lips press a kiss to the front of your thigh. "Spread your legs for me, baby. Let me see you." You don't fight him, your feet shuffling apart, and your hands brace on his shoulders as he leans forward, nose pressing against your mound and inhaling deep.
"You're such a creep." You shiver when his nose nudges against your clit, and his hand comes around to grip your ass and squeeze.
"That's why you love me."
He flicks his tongue out, tracing a path from clit to hole, and you let out a shaky moan, hands moving to grab onto his hair instead. His tongue sinks inside and curls before dragging out, and your ears burn at the sound of him greedily drinking your slick down. He's disgusting, revolting even, and you grind against his face, raising up on your tippy toes so he can do it again and again.
His other hand grips your other asscheek and spreads you apart, and you squeal at the feel of an additional tongue against your puckered hole. "G-Gris!" You go to move but Bro holds fast, his fingers sinking into the fat of your ass as he closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard. "O-oh, fuck."
Gris tongues at your ass, laving over it with his tongue, and an embarrassing squeak leaves your mouth when he kisses it. You feel him smile against you and he does it again, and that paired with Bro's fervent sucking and licking has you wobbling on your feet.
"Careful, baby." He mutters into your cunt, and then he's hooking your leg over his shoulder to give you more support. Your hands tighten in his hair, mouth parting on a drawn out. He eases his tongue into your hole once again, and you feel Gris do the same, struggling a bit to get past the tight ring of muscle. He retreats, and you think he's done before you hear him spit and a glob of saliva is running down your crack. He massages it in with his thumb, and then his tongue is on you again and forcing its way inside.
Bro spreads you wider, Gris' face pushing in deeper, and you hump against his face as you alternate between chants of their names, your eyes unfocused as you feel a big drop brewing in the pit of your stomach.
They fuck you with their tongues as if it's an extension of their cocks, quickly bringing you to the precipice, and just as you feel yourself teetering over the edge, you're abruptly snatched back and ripped away from that floaty feeling. You balk, eyes focusing to see Bro licking at his glistening lips, and Gris drags his tongue up the base of your spine, hands gripping at your hips as he raises up to his feet, body towering over yours, and dips down to place his mouth beside your ear.
"If you think I'm letting you cum that easy you're out of your fucking mind."
Before you can ask him if he's lost his mind Bro is tugging you into his chest and kissing at the frown between your brows. "Stop bullying my baby. She's not used to being told no." You swat at him and he laughs, arms flexing as he scoops you up and carries you over to the couch. He drops you down onto it, and you land with an 'oomph', your eyes meeting his through your lashes as he strokes the length of his cock with one hand, the side of his mouth pulling up into a grin.
You suck in a shuddering breath and he winks.
"Don't worry, mami. Papi'll give you what you need."
XXX
"Yesyesyessss," you sigh as Bro begins the slow press into you, fat tip spearing you open, and your hands palm at your breasts as he holds onto your waist. He goes slow, inch by inch, and each little thrust has you on the verge of losing it. You want him to cut the shit and just fuck you—haven't you suffered enough?
Gris doesn't think so.
Before Bro can sink in any further, Gris is reaching down and wrapping his fist around his cock, preventing him from sinking in any deeper. You shout, eyes snapping to him in betrayal, and your lips wobble before you can help yourself. "I don't think she deserves all of it right now. Fuck her with just the tip."
"But... but I was good." Your voice cracks. "I-I was. Baby, tell him." You look to Bro for support, for his usual inability to tell you no, but he's watching the wobble on your lip and you feel him twitch and throb inside of you. "I hate you. I hate you, I hate you!" You direct it at both of them, and Gris takes his hand off of Bro to instead pull you up by your arm. He maneuvers you so you're laid back between his legs, Bro in between yours, and he locks your arms down by your sides as Bro pushes the tip back in.
The insult that had been on your tongue fades away, your mouth falling open as your stomach quivers. You want him inside you — completely. You want to feel the drag of him along your silken walls. You want to feel the near-unbearable stretch when you get to the thickest part of him. You want to feel that blunt head pressing against the special spot deep inside of you. You want to feel the curve of him, the veins that lurk beneath his skin and thrum with his desire—you want it all and you can't have it and that makes your throat close around a cry.
A tear trails down your cheek, and you feel something stir underneath your head. Gris taps his fingers underneath your chin, signaling you to look up, and you do so, face stitched together in a mix of sadness and anger. He licks at his lips, eyes tracking all over your face. "Fuck, I love crybabies." He swoops down and smacks his lips against yours, and unlike before, this one is more.. sweet.
His lips move with yours, tongue sliding inside just as Bro slips out, and you moan into the kiss when Bro swipes his thumb over your clit. Gris swallows it down before pulling back, sucking at your bottom lip as he does, and you look at him with dazed eyes, face contorting in pleasure when Bro slips a bit deeper inside, just a bit. And your heart warms and swells because he loves you, doesn't he? He loves you so much and you love him and the fact makes you swoon and soar, eyes glassy as he keeps drawing those figure eights into your slippery, twitching bud.
He won't listen to Gris, not fully, he'll still take care of you, he always does. He can't resist and it makes you love him even more. Your thighs spread wider, invitingly, and Gris smirks and you don't care why because Bro listens to you — he listens to the signals of your body and acts accordingly. He knows you better than you know yourself, he knows what makes you tick, twitch, sigh, moan, gasp, cry, he knows it all. And he knows you're about to cum, he knows and he'll give it to you, he'll—
Bro laughs, the sound fast and sharp, and then his fingers are off your clit and his length isn't inside of you anymore and Gris' smirk widens.
You sniff and now he's grinning down at you and it looks so mean.
Bro coos down at you and apologizes, tells you how terrible he is and that he didn't mean it, that he'll make it right just like he always does, that you don't have to cry because he'll make you feel so good - he promises.
He breaks it not a minute later.
He lets out another raspy chuckle, this one more strained than the last, and a sob tears through your throat as you frantically shake your head back and forth. Your thighs move to lock around his hips but Gris is quicker than you. He hooks his arms underneath your knees and hikes them up, rendering you completely immobile and at their mercy and—oh god, why me?
You cry when Bro pulls out just when you felt yourself ready to tip over, and he coos down at you, hand gripping your cheeks and forcing your lips to pucker. He kisses them, an infuriating smile on his face that makes your tears fall faster, and you feel so stupid for ever thinking he'd be the "good cop".
"'M sorry, mi angelita." He kisses you again.
"Don't apologize." Gris chimes in. "This pussy belongs to you - you fuck it how you want." He lets go of one of your legs to plunge three fingers into your heat, and you sink your nails into the palms of your hands. "You've got her too spoiled, Bro."
"I know. Can't help it. That's my baby." His nose rubs against yours, and you reach for him, wanting, needing him to do something about the ache inside you. Gris' fingers idly sit in you, doing absolutely nothing but working you up even more because he's a bastard, but Bro will help you. He won't but you delude yourself into thinking otherwise. He always tells you yes, he always gives you what you want, he always fucks you nice and good until you're creaming all over him. That before was just a fluke - it was!
"Please." You hiccup, hands pressing against his cheeks, and he turns his head to kiss at your wrist. "P-please. Pleasepleaseplease, it hurts, Santa."
"You beg real pretty, sweetheart." Gris pushes his fingers in deeper and you twitch. "But we don't know what you're begging for. Use your words like the big girl you claim to be." He lets go of your other leg, and it falls down against the couch as if made of lead and you whimper when he pulls his fingers out of you.
Before you can do what he says, because doing anything else hasn't worked out for you at all, the space behind you is suddenly empty and you're falling back against the couch and then your vision is filled with Gris.
He stands over your head that dangles over the edge of the seat cushion, heavy cock angled down at you, and when you gasp at the drop of thick, clear pre-cum that drips from his uncut tip it takes advantage of the opportunity and hits your tongue. Before you can savor it, swallow it and moan because fuck why is it so good, Gris is grabbing fistfuls of your hair and bringing your head up, his cock slipping into your mouth.
"Don't stick your dick in her until she asks proper." Gris grits out between clenched teeth, and Bro pushes your thighs together and slings them over a broad shoulder, his cock nestled between the puffy folds of your pussy. Your hole clenches around nothing, slick dripping out of you as if you're crying down there too, and you shift your hips, desperate to get any kind of friction.
Bro pulls back, length sliding through your folds painfully slow, and your heart skitters in your chest.
"If you want this dick you've gotta beg, putita. C'mon, let me hear you - tell me how much you want me to fuck this sloppy cunt."
You choke around the fat cock stuffed down your throat, fatter tears leaking from your eyes, and you gag when Bro pushes his hips forward again, blunt tip catching on your painfully empty hole before sliding past and up, up, up until it's hitting against your oh so sensitive clit.
You hate Gris. You hate his guts —you really, really do— and you hate his stupidly thick, veiny, heavy cock that feels like a forbidden sort of heaven on your tongue even more.
Gris grins down at you, fist tightening in your hair, and slides in even deeper, head of his cock slipping down into your throat. "Hah? What was that? You say something?" He abruptly pulls out and you take in a whimpering breath, lips barely forming a syllable before he's sheathing himself back inside. "Guess not."
Bro fucks your thighs, heavy balls slapping against your cunt on every stroke, and Gris picks up his pace, the two of them somehow matching tempos. You relax your jaw and let him fuck your mouth, Bro's ministrations rendering you unable to do anything but take and feel.
Feel the way he glides over your tongue, smooth and warm, the way his pre slides down your tongue and eventually down the slope of your throat. Feel the way Bro teases at your entrance, circles around the puffy rim and slaps his tip against it before sliding it up through your folds to bump against your clit.
They're evil, the both of them, and you've already made up your mind to go straight to the Hell Guard with a full report of your grievances against them when Gris is opening his mouth back up.
"Boyfriend's not gonna save you this time, sweetheart." Gris grunts, hands on either side of your head as he thrusts in deeper, deeper until every time you swallow you're swallowing around him. He's in your throat, nestled as if he belongs, and it feels like he does. It feels good, it feels great, you feel full, but you can't breathe. Your eyes meet his in silent panic, and he offers you no comfort. "Either control your breathing or make me cum because I'm not pulling out."
You whine around him, eyes rolling when Bro thrusts against you harder, and try to breathe out through your nose. All the crying you've done tonight has rendered it a gross, snotty mess, and more tears leak out as you move your tongue on the underside of him. Your chest burns the same as before, and the image of him above you blurs as you swallow, spit bubbling up from the corners of your mouth and sliding down to pool at the bittom of your chin. Your hands, which had been pushing at his stomach, grow weaker, and just as they flop back against the cushions Gris is letting out a guttural moan, thick spurts of cum shooting down your throat and filling your belly as you instinctively swallow.
He pulls out, the last few dribbles of cum landing on your lips, and your chest rises and falls with your quick breaths. Before you're fully recovered you're letting out a scratchy 'f-fuck me, please'. Bro is sliding in immediately, moaning as your pussy welcomes him home. He pushes in to the hilt in a single thrust and you come immediately, walls spasming around his length. He sets a quick, brutal pace, mercilessly fucking you through your high, and he spreads your legs open so he can watch his actions.
Inoutinoutinoutinout. A wet, lewd sound punctuates each thrust, and you can't do anything but take it, your body practically melting into the cushions as he ruts into you.
A hand brushes your hair back from your face, and you turn your head to see Gris kneeled down by your head, his eyes focused on the drag and push of Bro's cock, the way your cum has created a frothy coating on his base, the way your hole grips onto him each time he pulls out, and squelches each time he pushes back in as if thanking him.
Gris has the same thought. "Your pussy has more manners than you — you should take note." He splays his hand across your lower stomach and presses down. You whine. "Think you can make room?"
You croak out an answer that he ignores, and all of a sudden find yourself seated in Bro's lap, his lips kissing away the tears on your face as they both work to push inside of you. They're big, too big, and you tell them as much but they keep pushing. Bro rubs quick circles into your clit and kisses all over your face, strings of praises said in between each one.
"Doing so good, mami."
"You're fuckin' perfect."
"Love you so much, you know that, don't you? I'd do anything for my baby - so do the same for me, mm? Let us in — just like that. There you go, baby."
They're in —oh god they're in— and you choke on their fullness, your head dropping forward only for Bro to lift it up, his lips smacking against yours in a sloppy kiss. You don't reciprocate, your mind mush as they figure out the logistics—determine who will push in while the other pulls out, and they get it in record speed, ensuring that you cunt is stuffed by someone at all times.
When they think you can handle it, when they've showered enough praise and loosened you up with their hands, they fill you up at once, stretching you to your brim and taking your breath as they do.
It's wonderful and horrible at the same time and you want it to stop immediately while simultaneously never wanting the moment to end. You can't think straight, can't think at all, but they're content with doing the thinking for you. They tell you when to open your mouth and stick out your tongue, tell you when to tell them how good it feels, tell you when to clench down and make them feel oh so good, tell you when to take in a breath because your eyes look a little spacey.
You wake to a twinge of pain and sensitivity, unsure of how long you were out, and your eyes blink open as your legs shift in an attempt to get away from the feeling. A set of hands push them back to their original position, and before panic fully washes over you, you remember where you are and who you're with.
"San--" Your voice is hoarse and your throat sore, and you huff out a breath when a tongue laps at your messy slit. Your toes curl and your calves flex, your entire body aching and sore, and your brows furrow as sweat beads at your forehead.
They do all the thinking, all the guiding, all the fucking and you like it—you love it. You zone out, only coming back on a slow grind, a sharp thrust, a deep plunge, a slap to your skin followed by a familiar soothing rub. Something crashes through you without warning, something you've only experienced a few times, and you go limp in their hold as you make a mess all over them, eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion.
"T-too much! It's too—!" You cut off with a cry when Bro swipes his tongue over your swollen clit. His hair has long since come undone from the neat braid, and the strands plaster themselves to your sticky, sweaty thighs. He swipes the flat of his tongue back and forth, hands keeping your thighs pinned down, and you reach your own down to weakly pull at his hair.
He pulls away long enough to mutter out a 'gotta clean you up' before his mouth is back on you.
Your hips buck and twist, toes curling and stomach caving in, head thrashing side to side, but he doesn't stop, just licks faster, sucks harder, slurps louder.
"Sensitive, huh?" Gris speaks, and you turn to him, barely able to make out his face through the tears clouding your vision. "Poor girl." His sympathy is fake but you can't tell the difference, you see him as a potential savior (silly thinking on your part, im hindsight) all the way up until he's slotting his body beside Bro's and pushing his face next to his, his tongue joining the fray.
You transcend.
Gris licks while Bro sucks. Bro slurps while Gris spits. Then they're both pushing wet tongues into a wetter hole and—oh, you're coming again. You scream from the force of it, your back arching so high that your stiff muscles crack, and a hand, you don't know whose, smacks down onto your tummy and forces you back down against the couch and they keep going.
Until you're a sobbing, satisfied mess that they scoop up and wash with gentle words and gentler touches. It's a stark contrast to how they were majority of the night, and you latch onto them, crying and snotting into their shoulders and choking out 'thank you's' and 'sorry's' in between each hiccup.
Gris massages at your sore muscles while Bro thumbs at your cheeks, and they don't let up even after your tears have dried up and your breathing has returned to normal. You sniff and finally speak after a few moments of silence.
"You two owe a lot of people a very heartfelt apology."
Summary: The harsh reason why you broke up with them
Warning: They might sound bad only because I’m only highlighting their flaws because it’s relevant to the writing prompt!!
Enjin- Enjin liked the benefits of being in a relationship just not the “confinement.” Constantly flirted or on some occasions slept with other women and you forgave him each time. When you talked about how you wanted consistency, communication, reassurance he calls you needy and it turned into an argument. The more you forgave him the more he kept making “mistakes.” He expected full loyalty and commitment when he himself could not give those things. Whenever he’d get drunk he’ll cry and tell you how he’ll change and get better and go on about how he was an awful lover. Embarrassingly, that alone made you give him the benefit of the doubt. You weren’t stupid but you were just stupid enough to take him back after every mistake. Enjin simply made one too many mistakes and it had you questioning your intelligence before letting him go.
Jabber- Jabber loved pain more than he love you. He was crazy in a good way but it eventually became too overwhelming. You always had to entertained him and god forbid if you didn’t want to choke him nearly to death. You never really showed any vulnerability around him because you were scared he’d see you as weak. Being in the relationship became so exhausting and you constantly feared not being enough entertainment for him. He dismissed your fears and hesitation and dismissed you completely if you showed them. You loved him so much you couldn’t put your foot down. Keeping up with what was going to keep Jabber grounded was hard because sometimes it wasn’t enough. Eventually you had to leave when it was clear he found another person who would entertain him.
Zanka- Zanka was always trying to one up you in your own relationship. He can never really admit he’s wrong and when he does it’s always with a half ass apology. You felt closer to him when you weren’t dating. Zanka was even more closed off and hardly let you in on what he was really feeling. Complementing him always turned into him trying to outdo himself the next time. He always discredited himself too easily and relied too heavily on your reassurance. In your relationship you constantly tried not to outshine him because it would turn into him trying to be better than you and being unnecessarily rude to you in the process. His attitude would change too. It just turned into an exhausting situation and you constantly had to dull yourself to exist in the relationship.
Gris- Too stable. Gris was too stable!! When you told your friends why you were broke up they laughed at you. Literally broke up with the guy and his reply was the most mature accommodating thing ever. He’s just didn’t challenge you. He was always quick to settle arguments by fixing the problem physically and you never had time to express or explain yourself without feeling like the problem. Gris is a good person and a better lover and supports you in everything but sometime you need someone who will make it feel like there’s a spark in the relationship. Whether that spark is you both arguing over something stupid or ignoring each other for weeks, just anything.
Follo- Follo was so….questionable in your relationship. He took small digs at you for absolutely nothing. They weren’t really harsh but the fact that he said them at all was honestly uncomfortable. Similar to zanka you had to cater to him and his inferiority complex. You try not to be too confident or too independent with him because he needed you to constantly rely on him. Though he looked happy when your missions go successful you could see the small attitude changes and straight up bitterness in him when you bring it up too much. Follo would exhausted himself trying to do random things before you need them at all. In arguments he’d throw them all in your face and expect you to be grateful.
Tamsy- The guys a fucking weirdo that’s why you broke up. You couldn’t even count how many times this dude straight up played in your face. He humiliated you in-front of people and not in a “haha” in a “I’m so embarrassed, I want to die” way. When you lost your temper at him you just looked crazy since everyone doesn’t see the sadistic freak he is. He instigates arguments between you two and would hide his smile and say how immature you’re being when you cried. You simply could not ignore him because it would just end in something worse. You gaslighted yourself in thinking you were just making things up in your mind but they were too real to make believe.
Bro- Bro was too focused on his kids and more less the relationship. The way he treated kids made your heart swoon. Obviously the reason you broke up isn’t simply explainable but it was because you felt like you were both on different sides of your relationship. It felt stalled. No hate to Dia or Guita. You loved kids but being in a relationship with a man who centered himself around them is tiresome. All his attention went to them even when they were around. You hardly had any time with him and when you did he always brought them up. You loved hearing about them but it was all the guy could talk about. He would constantly cancel plans and dates and make zero time for you. He plan dates and it’s basically playdates and tagging along with whatever activities the kids were doing. You felt like a mom and you just weren’t ready for that life.
(I apologize for any grammar mistakes I’m really tired)
꒰✦ Where they take you out on a date✦꒱
꒰ㅤ✦ Adult cleaners ; pt 1 ✦ㅤ꒱
Enjin -
Enjin isnt really classy when it comes to dates. he likes simplicity and something thats more meaningful to the two of you rather than something expensive and showy. Hed probably take you out with him for some thing fun, like bowling or game night. sometimes you two dont even have to leave the house.
He also like sto buy a sweet treat afterwords, a little reward for the long fun dya the two of you had.
Gris -
Now Gris is a little more formal during dates or even planning them. Unlike Enjin he likes them to feel very specail, taking you out ti your favoirte resturant or maybe shopping, something you both can enjoy while he can still admire your smile.
He also likes to make sure that he take syou on the best days, times when there are less people and you can both have a little more freedom when ording and talking.
Tamsy -
Tamsy is a little tricky. He plans dates, yes. but he doesnt make them something big. He takes you out mostly after mission- espacilly longer ones- and takes you to your favorite spots. Picnics, libraries, small areas with the least amount of eyes on you both are his favorite.
If yuo two couldnt go out he resorts to staying in his room, maybe doing each others hair and maybe maybe if you ask nice enough he would let you put try your make up on him.
Bro Santa -
Bro rarely has time to himself especailly since he takes care of team child- with your help ofcourse. so whenever Semiu or gris agree to hold them off for the day he always leaves HQ. Dates are usually more refined. You would both buy some food, maybe form the same restuarunt you ate from at your first anniversary. and then youd walk around the town just talking about your day.
The two of you take the freetime as a means to finally enjoy each others company without the kids- not that you dont love them but sometimes you prefer your own private time. You dont even have to go to a particular place just being together was enough.
Follo -
Follo is very nervous when he plans any date becaus he overthinks everything. he wants dates to be perfect, not too formal or too relaxed soemthing where you can ahve fun and look nice. I think he would definetly have the date planned weeks before just to make sure evrything was perfect-even though youve told him a million times you didnt mind just staying in his room together.
The move theater was the first date place youve had- which ended in a disater he neve wants to ever remeber- so he prefers areas that are less prone to trouble.
Gob -
The art man and his muse. Yeah he would definetly have you go to the rabdomest places. Under the bride where his lates mural was with some pizza and fizzy drinks was his idea of a date. he also loved draiwng you on his dates and giving you the small pritraits once you both reached home.
his best date pan yet was the wall he deticated just for you, painted iwth your face in the middle and everything you loved surounding you and dancong across the concrete wall.
August -
Augusts dates always involved you dressing up no matter what. hed take a day or two and dedcate it to maing you a new outfit whether a skirt, dress, suit shirt, anyything he though would like nice on you and dress you up on the date day.
Sometimes the two of you dont even end up going out with the amount of outfits hes crafted for you and how long it takes for him to decide which trinkets and jewelry looked best on you.
Delmon -
Now Delmon really didn't care about exactly where you guys went but what he brought. Obviuosly he did like to plan dates to be as satisfying to you as possible but he always always made sure to bring you flowers.
He grew them in the same greenhouse Semiu let him keep in the back of HQ and picked them off for you whenever they finally grew, handing them first before the date began.
Semiu -
Semiu was a classy lady so dates are always over the top but most importantly she always chose your outfits. Wether it was a dress, suit, or anything that made you look even more perfect t she always had you wear it. Sometimes she would take so long getting you dressed you'd be late to your reservation.
She also made sure to look good herself but you were her top priority. For a women who loved forty mags she knew how to be smooth and knew axactly what made you look good.
Corvus -
Now Corvus rarely leaves his room let alone HQ considering how busy he was all the time but dates were a must. Every few weeks or once a month he tried to squeeze in some time for you both to go out anyways, preferably a nice restaurant or sometimes just walking.
He wasn't someone who liked to go over the top with dates as long he was with you they were all enjoyable but he always made an effort to find out the places you liked most.
Tomme -
Tomme was very intricate in date nights or dates in general. Everything was always planned, from the spots you'd go and the food you would grab afterwards. Everything. She prefers casual dates, something like the aquarium or a new library she found.
Fancy restaurants weren't her thing and so weren't bowling alleys but she always managed to find something fun for both of you while also having an excuse to rant about the things you both saw.
I think ill do more of these instead of the short stories depending on the views they get.
