even with all the light and love you harbored for your boyfriend of three months, you were seriously starting to get real fuckinâ sick of gojoâs constant mood swings.
one minute heâs curled up on top of you, outdated argyle sweater and beige slacks tossed somewhere on the floor. clunky glasses slip crooked against your boobs as he grinds into your plush thighs, half-whining, half-bargaining, half-beggingâasking you to quote, âspit in his mouthâ and âride him so hard he cries post-postcoital syncopeâ (passing out), as a reward for completing your biochemistry homework.
âwanna explore your insides like apollo thirteen, princess. . .â he breathes, voice breaking into a soft whimper as his hips stutters, fingers pushing deeper into your tight opening, like heâs trying to map and probe every inch of you. âdonât need a cosmology textbook to know this cute cuntâs out of this world.â
âcan you be normal? for once?â
âwith you splayed open like this for a dork like me? how can i be?â with his free hand, he manhandles you into an almost sitting position, fingers still pistoning into you. he slides allll the way down until heâs faced with your fluttering entrance. âthis pussyâ and my poncho-wearing pikachu: xy promo cardâ are the two things i love most in the world.â
âshut up, pleaââ you gasp, cut off as his tongue drags a slow stripe up your slit. his mouth seals around your clit, sucking with infuriating precision, relentless in a way that makes your thighs tremble, like he has all the time in the world and every intention of undoing you completely.
âm-might squirt, g-get off.â you attempt to pry him off, and like a puppy who wants itâs mommyâs milk, he shakes his head vigorously.
âin my mouth. now.â
the next moment, heâs got a stupid snapback and wife beater on, folding you into a meeeeean arch as he drags his fat tip slow across your ass, smearing his nut all over your reddened cheeksâcourtesy of his miniature greek paddleâ with a wicked smirk. somewhere behind you, thereâs a faint click, followed by the soft whir of a polaroid developing.
âhold that pose, petal. yes, like thatâ fuuuuck. love the way my load just leaks out of that slutty little hole. i bet your classmates canât even imagine how much of a whore their teacherâs pet is for some good fuckinâ dick. shit, i need a picture for my snapâs âmy eyes onlyâ too.â
(and to send it to two very specific individuals.)
a lightbulb goes off in his empty head.
he reaches over to his bedside table, grabbing a black marker and gnawing the cap off. the sound alone makes your stomach flip.
you shift, glancing back at him. âw-whatâre you doing?â
ânothing, gorgeous,â he bites his lip, one hand steadying your hip, thumb brushing slow, absent circles into your skin. thereâs a grin in his voice, easy and teasing. âjust sit still fâme, yeah? let daddy do his thing.â
he chuckles deviously as he admires his work. gojo propertyâ right on your left ass cheek.
and even worse, he has days where heâs almost too normal; casually taking you out to fancy dinners in the classiest of button-ups and watches, playing your favorite songs on the piano like heâs done it a hundred times before, replacing your laptop without a second thought when yours broke, making love to you in missionary with your face cradled in his hands, coaxing you to cum together. . .
âfuckinâ beautiful. i love you so much. canât wait âtil youâre my wife. gonna spoil you lots. . . yeah? want me to take care of this pretty pussy forever?â he clicks his tongue when you try to hide behind your hands, voice softening just a touch. âhey. . . donât do that, sweetheart. donât hide from me. wanna see youâ wanna watch your face when we fall apart together.â
you nod vigorously as he thrusts harder. âsuch a needy, clammy thing. . . cum, baby. good girl.â he purrs. âneed to feel you tighten up on me.â
it was almost like you were dating two, no, three different men.
âyou had her last fucking sunday, shithead,â sutarĹ spits, crushing another beer down in a few gulps before swearing at the empty can. âweâre already halfway through that stupid mormon show she likes. says she canât watch it without me. then weâve got a pilates class after my chapter meetâ and i know you canât handle that shit. i barely can.â
âshe can finish the show with me,â sotari shoots back, pushing his glasses up his nose. âbesides, she has an exam coming up and i promised iâd help her. i told her sunday was going to be our study date.â
satoru could only shake his head at his other, visually identical, pathetic thirds. heâs already given up his sunday with you twice. it was his turn to see you for an extra day of the week.
âlook,â he starts, âi havenât had a sunday with her in two weeks. sheâs probably stressed out of her mind over that exam and could use an actual rest day. and sutarĹâ you seriously traumatized her at that âspring break spree with kaisen phiâ darty you dragged her to today. imagine how she felt when her supposedly very nerdy, piano-playing boyfriend with an. . . occasional sadistic streak suddenly did a handstand keg stand while a crowd of frat bros started chanting, âthatâs our sexy, perverted pledge masterâ around him.â
âsotariâstheactualpervert.â sutarĹ grumbles under his breath.
âi heard that, asshole.â
satoru exhales, running a hand through his hair.
âjust let me take her out on a normal dinner date. sheâs been craving sushi, and i just bought her a new bath bomb that sheâs been wanting us to try. i even put my card in her phone wallet and told her to go get her nails done.â
âfrench tip?â they ask simultaneously, looking almost starry-eyed.
he sighs. âof course.â
âher birthday is coming up,â sutarĹ says, leaning back in his chair. âisnât it about time we tell her the truth? she might even enjoy having all three of us.â he licks his lips. âat once.â
âor sheâd have a cerebrovascular accident.â sotari quips.
âbitch, just say stroke. sheâd have a stroke.â
âokay, know-it-all,â look in the mirror, sotari, âhow about you tell me what the symptoms of a stroke are?â
âspazzing out, going brazy. . . man, youâre just mad your bread ainât up.â
âactually, weâre both unemployed. at least i have my research labââ
âit might be wise,â satoru cuts in, firmer now. âto tell her. weâd still have to take turns, but at least we could all spend time with her without lying.â
for once, sutarĹ doesnât immediately argue. he just tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling, jaw working like heâs chewing on something he canât quite spit out.
âor,â he mutters after a beat, âshe laughs. calls us insane. slams the door in our faces. never talks to any of us again.â
âor,â satoru counters, âshe doesnât.â
the room falls quiet, thick with the weight of it. possibility, risk, all of it balanced on something as fragile as your reaction.
âshe can barely handle one.â
âimagine two.â sotari shakes his head.
âno, imagineââ
click.
the triplets freeze.
a soft mechanical whir follows, unmistakable.
slowly, their heads turn.
and there you were, standing in the doorway, a freshly printed polaroid sliding out into your hand as your eyes flicker between them with an expression so unreadable.