satoru frowns against your neck, where he tries hopelessly to stifle his own moans. he’s spooning you in a tangled mess of limbs and bedsheets, almost pathetic in his attempt to restrain himself. he feels like a hormonal teenager all over again.

“you know,” he half-whispers, half-moans into your ear. “i don’t think he’d care all that much if he woke up. i think he’s in love with you actually, i’d probably get to watch nanami kento beg on his knees to join us. ohh i like that idea actually, we should wake him—ah!”

you don’t know how else to quieten him down, so you reach behind you to pinch his side. all it does, really, is make him yelp and drive his cock even deeper into you, which makes you moan in turn.

you and satoru hadn’t had sex in so long, what with missions taking up so much time and the threat of societal collapse being somewhat of a libido-inhibitor. so when your joint mission with nanami ran over, and the higher-ups put you in a shared hotel room, satoru took opportunity as it struck. and you didn’t stop him.

now he’s balls deep inside of you as you lay facing the sculpted back of kento nanami. he’s laying with his back to you, breathing evenly in his sleep—each breath he takes pronounces the muscles of his back beneath the thin grey sleeping shirt he’s wearing. it does more to you than it should.

“you’re so fucking wet,” satoru whispers in your ear as his pace quickens. “what—you like this or something? being fucked five feet from nanami like this? hell, i like it. like showing you off. i'm like... sticking it to the man right now, babe.”

“he’s not even awake,” your eyes roll back as his tip brushes mean against your g-spot. satoru teases you with an open mouthed kiss to your neck, and then nips at the same spot.

"you sure, pretty?" he practically coos. "i think he's fighting for his fucking life right now. he was breathing like a monk until i mentioned him joining us."

you narrow your eyes at the sleeping man on the other bed. he's stilled and silent and obnoxiously toned and you swear you're getting wetter by the second and you also swear gojo can feel it because he's grinning against your shoulder like a fucking lunatic. you're about to brush him off, defend your coworker and friend and tell satoru to hurry up and make you cum so you can sleep when you see it: nanami shifts his hips.

you wanted to spend your birthday in relative peace. sure, it's a day to celebrate, but the hassle of doing the celebrating felt more like a chore than anything rewarding.

so, sue you for being a touch annoyed upon waking up on your birthday to the sound of heavy knocking on your apartment door. you had at least wanted to sleep in.

you have half a mind to ignore it entirely, but the low sound of arguing outside piques your attention. two deep voices that you recognise immediately, bicker and bicker and bicker for the entirety of your trip from bed to front door.

when you swing it open, you're met with the sight of two built, scary-looking men. toji and sukuna stand side-by-side, with scowls painting their faces, but their eyes set on you.

and they're holding balloons. sukuna even has a blue party hat on, a beautiful contrast to the sharp look on his face. his lips pull downwards and, instead of a unified 'happy birthday', their bickering resumes.

'didn't know you were expecting company.'

'should've told this asshole you were expecting company.'

"well," you sigh, crossing your arms and stepping aside for both of the men to walk in. "i wasn't expecting company. and happy birthday to me."

part 2 to this drabble

vampire!reader showing up to gojo's sparring class. You knew it was a bad idea from the start, the huge possibility of blood was always present, but he asked if you could pick him up from the gym. Though you were very adamant on staying in the car, he practically begged you to come inside and watch him fight…show off.

As soon as you stepped in the gym, you could smell him. The scent hit you like a truck and ever since your last incident, it gets harder to ignore his scent, it’s like a reminder of all the bad things you want to do to him. You let out a shaky breath and put on a smile, following your nose to a room that was towards the back. You peered in through the windows, seeing your boyfriend in nothing but a pair of shorts, hands wrapped in boxing tape as he bounced around the mat, focused in on his friend, Suguru.

You walked in, some of the men who were onlooking quickly turned their heads towards you. “Hi.” You awkwardly smiled, finding a corner to sit and watch your boyfriend. You thickly swallowed, gripping onto your bag as he moved quick on his feet, throwing a punch towards Suguru, fist connecting to his mouth. Carefully, you gazed upon your boyfriend, sweat trickling down his body from head to toe. You could hear his blood rushing in your ears, the way his heart thumped faster made you squirm in your seat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not even when he took a punch to the nose.

He stumbled back a bit, and immediately you smelled it; strong like before. Your breathing quickened, eyes darting up to his face, watching as the crimson liquid trickled from his nose and onto his lips. You watched in awe, feeling your body began to heat up, your palms sweating.

“Break!” One of the men shouted, blowing a whistle.

Gojo stepped off of the mat, eyes scanning the room to see you sitting alone in the corner, tucked away like a lost puppy. “Does your boyfriend look handsome with blood dripping from his nose?” He smiled as he walked up to you.

Your eyes focused in on the blood. It was like you were stuck, glued to your seat. Your mouth was open but nothing was coming out. All you could think about was how he tasted that day. How intoxicating it was, how addicting it felt from that small drop. Now, he was here in front of you, nose dripping, blood rushing. You could hear and feel it all, overstimulating your senses to the point where you needed to sink your teeth into him. All you could picture was him below you, helpless, begging you to drink from him, to feed off of him until he could barely stand. To hear him cry out for the first time when he feels you fangs pierce his skin, to hear his heart beat in fear at the sight of seeing what you truly are.

With each step closer, his scent becomes stronger and the temptation becomes too much. You’re sat there staring up at him, a death grip on your bag, at a loss for words.

“Babyyy…hellooooo?” He waves a hand in front of your face, laughing.

“H-hi, yes! Hello.” You quickly stand to your feet, awkwardly laughing. “I’m sorry, I was in a daze.”

“You’re always in a daze.” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, blood seeping into the tape on his hands and you watch as it smears across his skin. “I’m sure it smells in here, huh? Bunch of gross men sweating.” He lifts his arm and takes a sniff. “I definitely need a shower after this.”

Little does he know.

“Um, how much longer? I wanted to get dinner prepped early for tonight so…” You blink at him, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I mean…we can leave now. I would like to get a shower first—”

“You can shower at my place,” you quickly chime in. “It’s fine. I’ll meet you in the car.” You turn to walk off but he grabs at your hand, pulling you back.

“Hey, hey, hey, why you in such a rush?” He questions. “You’ve been so on edge lately. What’s wrong?” His brows furrow.

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “Nothings wrong.”

“You sure?” He questions.

“Yeah. Promise.” You nod, giving a small smile.

“Alright. I’ll let the guys know I’m leaving. See you in a few.” He presses a kiss to your lips and a shiver sends down your spine. You pull away, licking your lips, tasting the remains of his blood and you know you have to leave quickly.

You rush back to the car, tossing your bag in the backseat as you try to control your lust, the metallic taste of his blood still lingers on your tongue. “Stop, stop, stop,” you mutter. His scent is still so strong? Why? And how? You’re farther away from him, it shouldn’t be—

You notice it. The blood on your finger tips. It must’ve been when he grabbed your hand, the blood he wiped from his nose. Your lips part, eyes wide as you stare at his blood melting into the cracks of your skin. Slowly, you bring your fingers up to your mouth, resting them on your tongue and the taste hits you stronger than before. Your lips wrap around your fingers, eyes fluttering shut as you drink your boyfriend off of your fingers.

You can feel your body transforming, your senses heightening, your fangs growing. “Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, amazed at the taste, craving more. You gulp down the small amount, and realize you have to get it under control before he comes out. In a panic, you reach in the backseat for your bag, rummaging through it for a small black bottle that had animal blood in it, something to help keep your lust under control.

You popped it open, gulping it down before he came out, blooding spilling at the corners of your mouth. You quickly wiped it, tossing the bottle back into your bag.

It’s getting worse each day. Your fantasies, your thoughts, whatever they are, you can’t stop them. Even when he’s not around you can’t stop thinking about him. One wrong move and you can hurt him, kill him even. You can’t, you won’t.

If you have to, you need to leave him, for his own safety. You need to break things off as soon as possible before it becomes too late, before you do something that you’ll regret.

You love him, but your love for blood is stronger.

read part 1 here

SYPNOSIS. in which you accidentally email your increasingly explicit nudes to your stern law professor higuruma hiromi instead of your assignments.

PAIRING. law prof! higuruma hiromi x law student! reader

CONTENT. MDNI. professor/student. age gap. oral sex (m/f receiving). light degradation.

A/N. art by ayushnz on ig

subject: urgent assignment submission

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

hey prof higuruma,

just attached the draft for the criminal procedure essay like you asked—reworked the section on miranda rights based on your feedback from last office hours. let me know if it still needs more case citations or if i’m overcomplicating the exclusionary rule again

thanks for staying late to look it over again, you’re saving my gpa here!

talk soon,

[your name]

(attachment: Criminal_Procedure_Essay_Draft_v3.docx)

tuesday lecture comes and you get there early this time. you sit in back row, legs crossed tight. he walks in five minutes before start wearing his usual black suit, sleeves already rolled. briefcase hits the podium hard. he doesn’t bother looking around before he starts.

“entrapment. page 231. we’re covering it today.”

he paces. voice low and tired like always. “entrapment defense requires government inducement that would cause a normally law-abiding person to commit the crime. it’s not just opportunity. it’s active persuasion, pressure, temptation that overrides free will.”

he stops, leaning on the podium. eyes scan the room slow looking at your section longer than others.

“consider seduction as a tactic. undercover officer poses as a romantic interest. they builds trust, uses flirtation, compliments, physical proximity, promises of intimacy. the target eventually agrees to sell drugs or whatever the crime is because the seduction makes refusal feel impossible. courts have ruled both ways. some say it’s legitimate police work. others say when it crosses into sexual manipulation it becomes entrapment per se.”

he keeps going, he describes cases. like how a female officer in a bar is wearing a low-cut dress touching the suspect’s arm. whispering how much she wants him. leading him to the deal. male officer doing the same to a female suspect. lingering looks, suggestive comments. “let me take care of you.” he lists factors courts weigh: intensity of the advances. repetition. whether the target initiated or resisted. how long the seduction lasted before the crime occurred.

the whole lecture his tone stays flat. no glances your way. he talks about “arousal as leverage” like it’s just another legal element. “when sexual desire is weaponized to lower inhibitions, the line between persuasion and coercion blurs. but the test remains objective: would the average person succumb?”

you feel his stare when he asks the question like he’s personally talking to you.

when class ends, he leaves fast.

wednesday night you send your second one.

subject: revised entrapment section – attached

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

prof,

added the entrapment cases you referenced in lecture. focused on the seduction hypotheticals and court splits. let me know if the analysis is on track.

[your name]

(attachment: Entrapment_Analysis_Revised.pdf)

again, no reply.

thursday you spot him at the faculty coffee stand outside the law building. the line’s short and he’s in front. pays with exact change as he takes his black coffee. when he turns, your eyes meet. you’re three feet away. he pauses and looks straight through you. he doesn't bother acknowledging you, then he steps around you, walking away.

your hands shake holding your own cup.

friday night comes and you promise yourself that this will be your last attempt.

subject: entrapment follow-up questions – example attached

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

hi prof,

had a couple questions on the objective test for seduction-based entrapment. attached a quick example i wrote up to clarify my thinking. appreciate any notes.

thanks,

[your name]

(attachment: Seduction_Entrapment_Example.docx.)

saturday morning your inbox lights up.

subject: re: entrapment follow-up questions – example attached

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

that’s the third nude you sent this week.

monday 5:30 pm. my office.

h. higuruma

you arrive at his office door at exactly 5:30 pm on monday, heart pounding like it's about to burst out of your chest. the law building is mostly empty this late–classes wrapped up hours ago, and the few lingering students are buried in the library or grabbing takeout from the food trucks outside. his door is cracked open, a sliver of warm lamplight spilling into the dim hallway. you knock lightly, his voice cuts through immediately.

"come in."

you push the door open, stepping inside. the office is what you'd expect from your professor.

stacks of case files on the desk, bookshelves crammed with legal tomes, a single window overlooking the campus quad. he's seated behind his desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like always, exposing those forearms you've caught yourself staring at during lectures more times than you'd admit. his eyes flick up from a pile of papers, dark and unreadable, pinning you in place.

"close the door," he says, it’s not a request too. when you do, the click of the latch echoing too loudly in the quiet room. "lock it."

your fingers fumble on the knob, but you manage. when you turn back, he's already standing, rounding the desk with slow steps. he doesn't say anything at first, just leans against the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you. the silence stretches, it was awkward until you can't take it anymore.

"professor, i—about the attachments, they were accidents. i swear, i meant to send the essays, but my files got mixed up, and—"

"accidents," he repeats, he uncrosses his arms, picking up a folder from his desk—your emails printed out, you realize with a flush of heat to your face. he flips through them casually, as if reviewing a student's brief. "three times in one week. each one more... explicit than the last."

your cheeks burn. the first had been a simple nude, you in front of your mirror, lace panties and nothing else, snapped for your own confidence boost after a rough day. the second? you'd been bolder, sprawled on your bed, hand between your thighs, capturing the arch of your back. and the third... god, the third had been you on all fours, ass up, looking over your shoulder with a smirk that screamed invitation. you'd meant them for a situationship that fizzled out, but in your late-night haze of studying and scrolling, you'd attached the wrong files. or had you? the thought nags at you now, but you push it down.

"i didn't mean for you to see them," you whisper. his gaze drops to your lips, then lower, tracing the way your blouse clings to your curves under your cardigan, the skirt that's maybe an inch too short for a professional setting like this.

he sets the folder down, stepping closer. close enough that you can smell his cologne–too strong for your liking. "and yet, here we are." his hand lifts, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your chin up so you're forced to meet his eyes. they're darker now, pupils blown wide. "you didn't delete them. didn't send a frantic follow-up apologizing. just kept sending more."

before you can stammer another excuse, his thumb presses against your lower lip, parting it slightly. "on your knees."

you drop without thinking, carpet rough against your bare knees. he doesn't rush when unbuckles his belt, zipper dragged down loud in the quiet office. when he frees himself he's already hard, thick in his hand as he jerks himself watching your face the whole time.

"open."

he guides the head past your lips, you taste him as he slides deeper, filling your mouth inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. your eyes water instantly. he groans low, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other braced on the desk behind him.

"that's it," he mutters. "take it."

he starts to move slowly letting you adjust, then faster. shallow thrusts turn deeper, until he's fucking your throat in earnest. you gag around him, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin, but he doesn't stop. his grip tightens in your hair, holding you steady as he uses your mouth like it's his to take. every time you choke he pauses just long enough for you to breathe through your nose, then pushes back in, deeper, until your nose brushes his pelvis.

"look at me," he orders when your eyes flutter shut.

you force them open. his expression is almost detached but the way his hips continuously move faster betrays him. he's close. you can feel it in the way he twitches against your tongue, the way his breathing turns ragged. one more deep thrust and he holds himself there, releasing down your throat without a warning. you swallow reflexively, choking a little, but he doesn't pull out until he's finished, until you've taken every drop.

when he finally pulls out, a string of spit connects your swollen lips to the tip. he tucks himself away, zips up then he scoops you up by the waist like you weigh nothing. your legs dangle for a second before he sets you on the edge of his desk, papers crinkling under you. he pushes your thighs apart with his knee, settling between them, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place.

"touch yourself," he says quietly.

he wants you to what…?

heat floods your face anew. "w-what? here? that's... embarrassing."

his lips twitch into something almost like a smirk, he leans in closer, breath hot against your ear. "you weren't embarrassed when you sent those nudes. all sprawled out, hand between your legs, begging for attention." his fingers trail up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher, but stopping just short. "show me now or was that all an act?"

shame and desire twist in your gut, but your hand moves anyway, slipping under the lace of your panties. you're soaked already—from the way he used your mouth.. fingers glide over your clit, circling slow at first, and a soft whimper escapes you. he watches, unblinking, one hand still on your thigh.

you pick up speed, hips rocking into your touch, breaths coming faster. but it's not enough—his stare is too intense like he's analyzing you. "please," you whisper, free hand reaching for him, but he catches your wrist, pinning it to the desk.

"no. keep going." his voice is low, commanding. "let me see you fall apart like in that second photo, that was my favorite one you know.”

your fingers start dipping lower, thrusting shallowly. the edge in you builds but just as you're teetering, he pulls your hand away. you whine in protest, but he silences you with a look.

"not yet." he drops to his knees then, surprising you, hands shoving your thighs wider. he drags your panties aside, not bothering to remove them, and leans in. his breath ghosts over you first, making you clench around nothing. then his mouth is on you—tongue warm and broad, licking a slow stripe from entrance to clit.

you gasp, hands flying to his hair, gripping tight. he groans against you, he eats you out like he's starving. his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as you squirm, the desk creaking under your shifting weight.

"hiromi—fuck," you moan, head falling back. he sucks your clit between his lips. one hand leaves your thigh, two fingers sliding inside you easily, curling to hit that spot that makes your vision blur. he pumps them in time with his tongue, building you back to the edge faster than before.

it crashes over you without warning, thighs clamping around his head as you come undone, crying out his name. he doesn't stop, lapping through it until you're oversensitive and shaking, pushing weakly at his shoulders.

only then does he pull back, lips shiny, eyes filled with satisfaction. he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then reaches between your legs again. he tugs your panties down your thighs, you lift your hips to help. he balls them in his fist, slips them into his pocket like a trophy.

"that's enough," he says stepping back.

you blink, still dazed, legs dangling off the desk. "what?"

"go home."

"but—" you start, voice small and wrecked, glancing down at the obvious bulge in his slacks. "you didn't—i want to—"

"i will." he steps closer one last time, brushes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. "when i decide. you'll get an email when i want you back here.”

he leans in, lips brushing your ear. "and next time, wear something easier to take off."

he steps back, opens a drawer, pulls out a tissue packet and sets it on the desk beside you. then he sits again, picks up a pen, and starts marking papers like you aren't still perched there, dripping because of him.

you slide off the desk on unsteady legs, fix your skirt, wipe your face. he doesn't look up as you unlock the door and slip out into the hallway.

you still haven't processed what happened but you know you’re going to check your inbox obsessively from now on.

SYPNOSIS. you three were thick as thieves in college, always ending up tangled in the same bed after parties. graduation hit and the hookups stopped, everyone drifted into real life. three years later you run into them again and apparently, they’re in a relationship now?! it stings, feeling like the odd one out even though you’re happy for them. but when they show up at your door, it’s clear—they want the three of you back in bed together.

PAIRING. gojo satoru x geto suguru x f! reader

WC. 9.7k

CONTENT. MDNI. threesome. porn with plot. established couple (satoru + suguru). vaginal + anal penetration. double penetration. oral sex (f receiving + m receiving). face-fucking/gagging. excessive creampies + cum overflow. massive cum loads everywhere. squirting. overstimulation. praise kink. dirty talk. spit play. cum play. hair-pulling. light choking (throat bulge mentions). clit stimulation. visible tears from overstimulation & throat use. emotionally raw nostalgia-fueled neediness. filthy reunion sex yeyeye. reader kinda a yearner tbh

A/N. RAHHH okay first dp i didnt do that well. art by thatsallitchief

your life now is just... steady. kinda boring if you're honest.

same wake-up time, same coffee that's gone cold by the time you finish scrolling emails, same desk in your apartment staring out at the same slice of city skyline, same grind until you shut the laptop.

weeks bleed together—happy hours where everyone gripes about the same shit. whether it's rent, dating apps, or bosses. brunches that start fun and end with phones out, opening hinge at 2 a.m. then closing it because nobody's just right.

you're fine.

rent's paid, you have friends, that raise last year actually helped. but some nights the quiet hits different and your brain starts replaying college like it's the only highlight reel that still works—crashing on someone's couch laughing till it hurt, waking up sticky and warm between two bodies.

no plan, no pressure, no clock ticking down on anything you do.

if life doesn’t kill you, you’re sure nostalgia will.

tonight you’re out with your usual group at this bar downtown, the one with exposed brick and cocktails priced like they’re doing you a favor. your friends are already a few drinks in, debating whether the dj is phoning it in or if you’re all just getting old. you’re working on a gin and tonic, half in the conversation, half letting your eyes wander the room.

you watch couples leaning close on awkward first dates, groups of guys cheering at the screens, girls snapping bathroom selfies under the neon signs.

you slip away to grab the next round, threading through the crowd to the bar. it’s crowded, shoulders brushing everywhere, so you ease in beside a tall figure ordering something neat. you don’t look up right away, just raise your voice over the music to give the bartender your order.

then you feel it. that weird pull.

you glance left.

recognition really hits like a slow wave.

life gotta be playing with you.

suguru.

hair longer than you remember, still tied back loose, dark shirt sleeves rolled, looking like he walked out of every late-night memory you tried to bury. he's grabbing his glass when his eyes hit yours and freeze.

back in college he was always the one people noticed first. he’s not loud like satoru, not flashy too but girls used to linger near him the most, in the library stacks, at parties, pretending they were looking for someone else while stealing glances. they’d ask you questions about him, casual but obvious like “does suguru have a girlfriend?” or “is he seeing anyone?”

he never seemed to notice, or if he did he acted like it didn’t matter. he’d just smile that slow, half-lidded smile and keep talking to you and satoru like the rest of the room didn’t exist.

it used to drive you a little crazy, how easy it was for him to pull attention without trying. you hated how much you liked being the one he actually looked at.

“holy shit.” you hear him say.

you blink hard. “it's really you."

he sets the drink down with a clatter, that slow smile creeping up like it never left. “you've gotta be kidding me.”

a nervous laugh slips out. “yeah hi.”

he steps in closer right away, shoulder brushing yours in the crush, blocking out half the noise. “you look... fuck. good. too good.”

“says you. what the hell are you doing here?”

“felt like i needed a drink.” he leans an elbow on the bar, eyes locked on you like the rest of the room vanished. “how long's it been?”

“three years. maybe three and a half.” the number feels heavy coming out. “you still around?”

“yeah, still around,” suguru says, scratching the back of his neck. “moved back last year. freelance graphic design crap now. pays okay, keeps me out of a cubicle. you?”

“same old office grind, it’s close here actually.” you shrug, “it's... whatever. stable.”

he snorts. “you always hated that word.”

“still do.” you take a sip, “feels like a polite way of saying stuck.”

“you don't look stuck. you look like you're doing the thing. the grown-up version.”

you stare at him for a second, the words sitting funny in your chest. part of you wants to laugh it off, part of you wants to snap that he has no idea what the grown-up version of you actually feels like. mostly you just feel exposed, like he can still see right through the routine you built to keep everything at arm's length.

“this feels weird.” you mutter.

the bar noise crashes back in. someone yelling about a missed shot on the tv, glasses clinking, you hear your friends' laughter drifting over from the table. suguru stays right where he is. you don't step away either.

“so,” he says eventually, voice quieter. “satoru and i... we're together now. have been for a while.”

your stomach drops. “oh.”

something in you stops.

is it jealousy? maybe.

it feels ugly. the ugly kind that sneaks up and sits heavy in your chest without asking permission. the kind that makes you feel small and petty even though you know you have no right to feel it.

you’re happy for them. you are. but happy doesn’t cancel out the rest.

it’s just the sudden reminder that the three of you used to be a unit, and now you’re looking at the space where you used to fit, wondering why it doesn’t hurt more and why it hurts at all. you thought you’d moved past this. boxed it up with the dorm posters and the cheap beer koozies and the late-night texts that eventually stopped coming.

apparently not. apparently three years isn’t long enough to erase the way his name next to satoru’s still makes your ribs feel tight, like someone’s pressing on the exact spot where the old ache lives.

you wonder if they ever felt the gap the way you did. if they ever looked at each other and thought, this is perfect but something’s missing. or if you were the only one who kept waiting for the third piece to click back in.

you hate that it stings. you hate that part of you still wants to be the missing piece instead of being fine on your own.

you force your eyes up to meet his. “that’s good. i’m glad.”

he watches you carefully. “yeah?”

“yeah.” you nod, even though it feels mechanical. “seriously. happy for you guys.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t call you on it. instead his fingers brush your arm again. “we still talk about the old days and you come up a lot. satoru still bitches that nobody else can keep up with him the way you did.”

you manage a small huff. “he would.”

“he misses you.” suguru’s voice drops lower. “i miss you.”

you open your mouth to say something but before the sound can come out someone shoves past hard from behind, cutting you off mid-breath. you stumble forward, right into suguru.

your chest presses to his for a split second, close enough that you feel the steady rise and fall under his shirt. his hand comes up automatically to your waist to steady you, fingers firm but careful, and for that half-second everything narrows to the heat of his palm through your top, the way his breath catches just a little.

shit, you think. this is bad. this is really bad. because your body remembers before your brain can stop it. remembers how his grip used to tighten when he pulled you closer, how his mouth used to find your neck right after. you should pull away. you should step back. but your feet don’t move.

his hand drops fast, like he just realized what he was doing. “sorry,” he mutters but it sounds more like a question than an apology.

“it’s fine,” you say. your skin still feels his touch like an afterimage. you take a sip of your drink to do something with your hands. you swear the gin taste more bitter. “still vanilla,” he says like he’s testing the words. “still fucks with me.”

your stomach flips looking up at him through your lashes. “you’re not supposed to say shit like that anymore.”

“probably not.” he shrugs one shoulder, but there’s no real apology in it. “doesn’t make it less true.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

you swallow. “suguru.”

“come over sometime,” he proposes before you can finish the thought. “both of us, no pressure. just… talk. or don’t talk. whatever feels right.”

no.

that’s not a good idea at all.

you swallow. “maybe.”

his mouth curves to a small smile, just enough to show he heard you. “maybe’s good.”

you glance over your shoulder. your friends are still at the table, one of them waving you over now, holding up an empty glass like a signal flare.

“i should–” you start, gesturing vaguely toward them.

he nods understanding, “yeah. don’t let me keep you.”

“send my regards to gojo.”

suguru’s smile shifts—he’s amuse now. “satoru,” he corrects gently, like it’s important. “he’d love to hear from you. directly. not through me.”

you feel your face heat again. “right. satoru.”

he holds your gaze for another second. “text him. or me. or both. we’re not hard to find.”

you nod, not trusting your voice. then you force yourself to turn, weave back through the crowd. you slide into your seat at the table, someone shoves a fresh drink your way without asking, already mid-story, laughing too loud. you take it, fingers wrapping around the cold glass, but your eyes flick back toward the bar almost on instinct.

he’s gone.

just empty space where he was standing a minute ago, like the crowd closed over him the second you looked away. your chest does this stupid little squeeze. 

one of your friends nudges you. “you good? you look spaced.”

you force a quick laugh, shake your head. “yeah, just… ran into someone from college. weird.”

that same night you cried yourself to sleep.

you got home around two, kicked off your shoes at the door, didn’t bother turning on the big light–just the lamp by the couch. your friends had kept the shots coming after you sat back down, and you drank enough to blur the edges without actually forgetting anything.

you showered quick, then went to bed quick.

you crawled in wearing an old t-shirt then pulled the blanket up to your chin and stared at the ceiling. the city lights leaked through the blinds in thin stripes, moving slow across the wall like they were trying to leave too.

at first it was just quiet tears. slipping out without sound. then your chest started hitching and you turned your face into the pillow. you cried for the girl who used to fit perfectly between them. cried for the way suguru’s hand felt on your waist tonight–like muscle memory he hadn’t lost. cried because you now felt like a loser more than ever. it's probably just your stupid FOMO, but can it be help when you can't really do anything about it?

so you cried realizing how much you missed out on.

you thought about texting. opened the chat with suguru–empty since graduation. thumbs hovered. deleted the half-typed “hey”. closed it. opened satoru’s instead. same thing. empty. you pictured him seeing your name pop up and grinning that stupid wide grin, or maybe frowning, or maybe just staring at the screen like he didn’t know what to say either. you pictured suguru telling him about tonight, the two of them on their couch, legs tangled, talking about you like you’re still part of the conversation.

the thought made the crying worse.

how can you be so lonely?

eventually the tears slowed to sniffles. your eyes felt swollen, throat raw. you rolled onto your back, stared at the dark ceiling again. just you and the hum of the fridge and the distant siren somewhere down the street.

-

two weeks pass like they always do. you tell yourself the bar night was just a blip—a weird, nostalgic collision that doesn’t have to mean anything. you don’t text. neither do they. 

it’s friday night now. finally.

it's one of those that feels earned after a week of meetings that could’ve been emails and emails that could’ve been nothing. you’re home early for once, takeout bag already on the counter–pad thai and spring rolls. you light the candle you bought last month, the one that smells like clean linen and something faintly sweet, the flame flickering soft against the living room wall. you queue up a movie, you’ve always loved roncoms. you change into soft shorts and an oversized hoodie, sink into the couch with the blanket pulled over your legs, phone on silent, lights dimmed just right.

you hit play. the opening credits roll while you crack open the takeout container, steam rising, fork halfway to your mouth.

tonight is going to be good. 

jinx.

knock-knock.

three quick raps on the door.

you freeze. the movie keeps going, voices muffled under the sudden quiet in your head.

another knock. softer this time, but insistent.

you set the container down, wipe your hands on your shorts, you pad over to the door in bare feet, peek through the peephole.

satoru and suguru.

satoru’s leaning against the frame, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up into his white hair even though it’s dark outside. suguru’s standing a step behind, hands in his pockets, hair loose tonight, they both look so good.

you hear them before you open the door.

satoru’s voice first, “you knock. you’re the one who saw her.”

suguru exhales through his nose. “you’re the loud one. she’ll think it’s a delivery guy if it’s you.”

“nah, she’ll know it’s me. i’ve got presence.”

“you’ve got volume. just knock satoru."

“fine, but if she slams it in our faces, it’s your fault for making me go first.”

“she won’t slam it. she said maybe.”

“maybe’s not yes, suguru.”

“it’s not no either.”

a pause. you can almost picture satoru rolling his eyes.

“okay, but what do we even say? ‘hey, remember us? we brought booze and unresolved tension’?”

suguru snorts quietly. “we say hi. we ask how she’s been, tell her she looks good whatever.”

“boring. i say we lead with the booze. she always liked my taste in whiskey.”

“she liked when you shut up sometimes too.”

“rude. untrue. mostly untrue.”

you hear satoru shift his weight.

“seriously though,” his voice drops, softer now. “what if she doesn’t want to see us? what if that maybe was just polite?”

suguru’s quiet for a second. “then we leave. but i don’t think it was polite. she looked at me like she was trying not to look at me. that’s not polite. that’s something else.”

satoru lets out a breath. “so she was seducing you with her eyes.”

“stop stalling seriously.”

“i’m building dramatic tension.”

“just knock toru.”

satoru knocks again, sharper this time, like he’s committing to whatever this is.

you stand there a second longer, hand on the knob, stomach doing lazy somersaults.

you open the door.

they both straighten at the same time, like they’ve been caught mid-argument.

satoru’s grin breaks first—wide, bright, exactly the way you remember, sunglasses shoved up into his hair even though it’s night. “hey, stranger.”

he’s still got that cocky tilt, the one that says he knows exactly how pretty he is and doesn’t mind if you know it too. 

suguru’s smile is smaller, warmer, eyes steady on yours like he’s been waiting for this exact second. “told you we’re not hard to find.”

you blink at them, “no shit. you came to me.”

satoru’s grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling at the corners. “couldn’t wait for the maybe to turn into a text. figured we’d speedrun it.”

suguru rolls his eyes but the corner of his mouth twitches. “we’re not staying if you want us gone. promise.”

“hey don’t give her ideas.”

you stare at them both framed in your doorway like some kind of fever dream you didn’t ask for but aren’t quite ready to wake up from. satoru’s still grinning like a cat that got the cream and then some, one hand already lifting the paper bag he’s holding so you can see the neck of a bottle inside. suguru’s quieter, but his eyes haven’t left your face once.

“you gonna let us in or are we doing the whole hallway reunion thing?” satoru asks.

you swallow. your mouth feels dry even though you were just eating noodles five minutes ago.

“come in,” you say. it comes out softer than you mean it to.

they step inside together, satoru kicks his shoes off without asking, suguru follows more carefully. you close the door behind them. looking at them, you can’t help but think how much they make sense together.

honestly. who wouldn’t want them together?

the apartment smells like pad thai and that clean-linen candle. the tv is still paused on the opening scene, some cheesy line frozen mid-delivery. you grab the remote and mute it completely.

satoru sets the bag on your kitchen counter. he pulls out the whiskey—muttering how it’s good stuff, and how he used to steal from his dad’s liquor cabinet back in the day and three lowball glasses he must’ve spotted in the open cabinet.

“you still keep ice?” he asks, already opening your freezer like muscle memory.

“yeah. drawer on the left.”

he nods, pleased enough.

suguru stays closer to you. he glances around your place—the books stacked unevenly on the coffee table, the throw blanket half-falling off the couch, the single plate and fork you were using. his gaze lingers on the takeout container like he’s cataloging how alone the night looked before they showed up.

“you were having a quiet one,” he says, “or were you expecting anybody?”

“was trying to,” you admit. “and no, i wasn’t expecting anybody.”

satoru snorts from the kitchen. “rom-com?”

“…yes? problem with that?”

“knew it.” he drops ice into the glasses with that satisfying clink. “you always cried at the part where they almost miss each other at the airport.”

“i did not always cry and not every rom-com involves an airport.”

“you sobbed into my hoodie once. you ruined the collar.”

you feel your face heat. “that was one time and you lent it to me.”

“because you were crying,” he sing-songs, pouring amber liquid over the ice.

you guys end up on the couch somehow, like it's the most natural thing. satoru hands out the glasses first—yours with a wink, suguru's with a nudge, his own last like he forgot he needed one too. the whiskey's smooth, burns just right going down, and you take a sip while they settle in.

satoru flops down on one end, legs sprawled out, arm already slinging over the back of the couch like he owns the place. suguru slides off the arm to the middle cushion, close enough that his knee bumps yours when you sit. you tuck your legs under you, trying to act casual when there’s nothing casual about this.

satoru reaches over suguru and hooks his fingers around your wrist, tugging you closer until you're half-leaning against suguru's side.

"what? c'mere," satoru says, sounding offended. "we're not strangers. scoot."

you roll your eyes but let him pull you in, ending up sandwiched a little, your shoulder against suguru's chest, satoru's hand lingering on your arm for a second before he lets go. the couch dips under all three of you.

"so," you say, swirling the ice in your glass. "how did this start? fill me in." you gesture vaguely between them.

satoru takes a sip of his whiskey, ice clinking against the glass as he leans back further into the couch, his free arm still draped behind suguru. "how did what happen? us?" he points between himself and suguru with his pinky. "or us showing up here like a couple of creeps?"

"both, i guess," 

"it wasn't some big thing. after graduation, we kinda... stuck around each other. satoru crashed at my place for a month, said his apartment hunt was going bad. turned into two months. then we were just... together. no labels at first, but eventually yeah."

satoru snorts. "you make it sound boring. i was basically squatting, eating all your ramen, and one night we were watching some shitty film and i just kissed him. like, mid-explosion scene. romantic as hell."

you can't help the small laugh that bubbles up. "mid-explosion? that's your move?"

"hey, it worked." satoru grins, tilting his glass toward suguru. "he kissed back.”

suguru rolls his eyes, but there's a fond curve to his mouth. "you tasted like instant noodles. not exactly fireworks."

"bullshit, you loved it." satoru nudges him with his elbow, then turns his eyes on you, that bright blue stare pinning you in place. "but yeah, that's the gist. we figured it out. works good. great, even."

you nod. "makes sense. you two always clicked like that."

it’s uncomfortable quiet now. suguru's hand moves from his knee to rest lightly on your thigh, just above the hem of your shorts. it's casual, like he's not even thinking about it, but your skin prickles under his fingers. "we talked about you a lot," he says softly. "wondered what you were up to. if you were seeing anyone."

satoru leans forward, setting his glass on the coffee table with a soft thunk. "yeah, and i gotta say, i'm kinda pissed suguru found you first at that bar. like, what the fuck?"

you raise an eyebrow. "jealous?"

was he jealous of you because he’s with suguru? or was he jealous of suguru for finding you first?

"hell yeah." satoru doesn't even hesitate, his voice dropping to that playful whine he always had when he wanted something. "he texts me right after, all 'guess who i ran into?' and i'm stuck at work doing paperworks like a loser. should've been me. i found you first back in college, remember? that party where you were trying to shotgun a beer and spilled it all over yourself?"

you groan, covering your face with one hand. "oh god, don't remind me. that was embarrassing."

suguru chuckles, his thumb brushing a small circle on your thighs now. "you were cute. satoru dragged you over like he'd won the lottery."

you huff a laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "yeah, and then i spent the rest of the night smelling like cheap beer. thanks for that."

satoru leans in closer, his arm brushing suguru's shoulder as he does. "worth it. look where it got us."

you glance down at his hand, anything to not look both of them in the eyes.

"we missed that," suguru says, voice low but casual, like he's commenting on the weather. "the three of us. not just the hanging out part, but... you know."

you swallow, the whiskey warming your chest. "the hooking up?"

"yeah," satoru answered this time. "don't act like you forgot. those nights were the best.”

you kept quiet, overthinking it now. do they want you to go in between them? you can’t fathom to think about doing that. 

suguru shifts, his body angling toward you more like he’s reading that you’re overthinking it. "we talked about it though. after we got together. like, a lot. satoru would bring it up every time we got a little drunk, saying shit like 'remember when she did that thing with her mouth?' and i'd just nod because yeah, i remembered."

satoru smirks, not even denying it. "guilty. you were always the wildcard. kept things interesting. with just me and him, it's good–not saying it’s lackluster baby but sometimes we look at each other and it's like, 'something's missing.'"

your pulse picks up. "and that something's me?"

"duh," satoru says, like it's the most obvious thing. "not in a creepy way. we don't want to drag you into our shit if you're not into it. but seeing you at the bar... suguru came home and couldn't shut up about how you looked. i got jealous as hell."

suguru elbows him lightly. "you were pouting the whole next day."

"was not."

"were too."

you can't help the small smile. but still, this feels wrong.

not in the way that you feel used. more like... this is too easy. like someone's handing you the exact thing you cried over two weeks ago on a silver platter, and your brain's screaming "there's gotta be a catch"

you set your glass down on the coffee table, "guys."

"this isn't... i mean, i'm not saying no," you start, words tripping over themselves. "but it feels like i'm the third wheel who just got invited back for a nostalgia fuck. like you two are solid now, and i'm the extra piece because you suddenly decided that you miss how it felt before.”

satoru exhales through his nose. "that's not–"

"let her finish," suguru cuts in quietly, hand squeezing your thigh once before sliding off. giving you space. "she's right to ask."

you pull your knees up a little, hugging them loosely. "you show up here looking like you stepped out of my wet dreams, whiskey in hand, talking about how you miss the old days. and yeah, i miss them too. a lot. but you have each other. you built something without me. what happens after tonight? we fuck, it's amazing, then i go back to my rom-coms and pad thai alone while you two go home together? i don't want to be the side quest."

satoru rubs the back of his neck, looking younger suddenly. "shit. when you say it like that it sounds awful."

"it kinda is awful if that's what it is."

suguru leans forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like he's choosing his words one at a time. "we didn't come here planning to fuck and bounce. we came because... the last three years have been good. really good. but there's always been this quiet thing between us where we'd look at each other and one of us would say your name. i’m not saying we need you to make it better, it’s just that you were part of what made us work in the first place. we didn't replace you. we just... learned how to be two without the third. but we never stopped wanting the third back."

satoru nods. "and not as some accessory. like, equal. all three. if that's something you even want to try. again, we talked about this. a lot. we want you in the picture, not for old times' sake. for right now. and tomorrow. and whatever comes after."

you look between them. both of their eyes on you.

"and if i say i need time to think about it?”

“you have all the time baby.”

“exactly. we’re not here to corner you. we just wanted you to know where we’re at.”

you uncurl your legs a little. “okay. i hear you. i just—i need a second to sit with it. my brain’s doing cartwheels.”

satoru’s mouth quirks. “fair. cartwheels are valid.”

an hour pass and at some point suguru stands up, stretches, mutters something about needing the bathroom. he disappears down the hall, door clicking shut behind him.

satoru doesn’t miss a beat.

he scoots closer the second the door closes, arm slung over the back of the couch again, fingers brushing your shoulder.

“so,” he says, voice dropping into that conspiratorial tone he used to use when he was about to ask something filthy. “when’s the last time you got laid?”

you choke on your sip, whiskey burning your nose. “jesus toru.”

“what? we’re catching up.” he’s grinning, all teeth and mischief. “come on. i’m dying here. give me something.”

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “none of your business.”

“uh ohhh ~ it’s been awhile.”

you shoot him a look. “it’s been… fine. occasional i do have sex.”

he tilts his head. “define occasional.”

“like… once every four months if i’m lucky.”

satoru winces dramatically. “ouch. that’s criminal. you’re telling me nobody’s been taking care of you properly?”

“they tried. mostly bad at it.” you shrug, “or maybe i’m just picky now.”

“nah. you’re not picky. you just know what good feels like.” he leans in a lil closer, voice quieter. “we ruined you for everyone else, didn’t we?”

you roll your eyes but the heat creeps up your neck anyway. “cocky much?”

“seriously though. was the last one at least decent? or are we talking two-pump chump territory?”

you laugh, “somewhere in between. he was enthusiastic though.”

“enthusiastic is code for jackhammer.”

“pretty much.”

he hums, studying your face. his eyes flick down to your mouth for half a second, then back up. “you still taste the same when you’re nervous?”

your stomach does a lazy flip. “you’re ridiculous.”

“maybe…wanna kiss me? just to see if it still feels like old times?”

you glance toward the hallway. bathroom door’s still closed. “suguru’s literally right there.”

satoru shrugs one shoulder, casual as hell. “he won’t mind. promise. we’ve talked about this too. he’d probably be pissed if i didn’t at least try.”

you search his face, looking for the catch. there isn’t one–just that bright, expectant look he’s always had when he knows he’s about to get what he wants.

“you guys sure talked a lot about me.” you mutter, but you’re already shifting closer.

"oh you have no clue babe."

he meets you halfway. the kiss starts slow, his lips are warm, still carry a faint burn of whiskey. then you open for him and you feel his tongue sliding against yours, hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your jaw. it’s familiar and new at the same time. hungrier than you remember.

you make a small sound into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to murmur, “still good?”

“shut up,” you breathe, tugging him back in.

this time he kisses you deeper, teeth grazing your bottom lip, free hand sliding to your waist under the hoodie. his fingers splay across bare skin, you arch toward him without thinking, one hand fisting his shirt.

the toilet flushes down the hall. then after a minute you hear him.

“starting without me?”

satoru doesn’t pull away right away. he gives one more slow lick against your tongue, then breaks it with a soft smack, grinning against your mouth. “told you he wouldn’t mind.”

suguru comes back from the hallway wiping his hands on his jeans like he’s not even in a hurry. he stops a couple feet away, arms crossed, staring down at you and satoru tangled on the couch. your hoodie’s already shoved up, satoru’s mouth on your neck, one hand squeezing your tit through the fabric, the other rubbing slow circles over your shorts right where you’re throbbing.

suguru doesn’t say anything at first. just watches. then he steps closer, reaches down, grabs a fistful of satoru’s white hair and yanks his head back hard.

“move,” suguru says. he was calm but the grip says otherwise.

satoru lets out this half-laugh. “jealous already?”

“shut up.” suguru pulls him up by the hair until their faces are inches apart. satoru’s grinning like an idiot, suguru doesn’t smile back. he just crashes their mouths together.

it’s not cute. it’s teeth and tongue right away. suguru licks deep into satoru’s mouth, sucks on his tongue like he’s trying to taste whatever satoru just had on his lips. satoru moans loud into it, hands coming up to grab suguru’s face, thumbs digging into his jaw. they kiss sloppy–wet smacks, satoru’s tongue chasing suguru’s when he tries to pull back. suguru bites satoru’s bottom lip hard enough that satoru hisses, then licks over the sting like an apology he doesn’t mean.

you’re just lying there, legs still spread, shorts damp, watching them make out. your clit pulses every time one of them groans.

suguru finally breaks the kiss with a slow drag of his tongue across satoru’s lips. satoru’s panting, cheeks flushed, looking wrecked already.

“my turn,” suguru says, voice rougher now. he drops to his knees between your legs, shoves your thighs wider with both hands. he then hooks two fingers in your panties, yanks them to the side so rough the fabric digs into your skin for a second. your pussy’s right there, clit peeking out.

“fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. “look at her.”

satoru leans over your shoulder to see better, chin on your collarbone. “told you she’d be soaked.”

suguru doesn’t answer. he just leans in and licks one long stripe from your hole to your clit, tongue flat. you gasp, hips jerking up. he groans against you, the sound vibrating straight through your clit. then he does it again, slower, letting the tip of his tongue dip inside you before dragging back up.

“s-shit ha-ahh sugu.”

satoru’s hand slides under your hoodie again, finds your nipple, pinches it sharp. “she likes that,” he says. “do it harder.”

suguru hums, sucks your clit between his lips, gentle at first, then harder, tongue flicking fast over the tip. you whine, fingers twisting in his hair. he pushes two fingers inside you–no warning, just slides them in deep, curls them up rough against that spot. your back arches, thighs shaking around his head.

“sugu—” your voice cracks.

he pulls his fingers out slow, replaces them with his tongue, fucking into you with it while his nose grinds your clit. wet, filthy sounds fill the room—slurping, your slick coating his chin, dripping down his neck. satoru’s watching, breathing hard against your ear.

“he’s eating you like he’s starving,” satoru mutters. “isn’t that cute, baby?”

“t-toru kiss me.. again please?”

suguru growls low, the vibration making you clench. he adds a third finger, stretches you open, pumps them fast while his mouth stays locked on your clit, sucking hard. your legs start trembling bad. you’re close—too close.

satoru grabs your chin, turns your face, kisses you messy. he swallows your moans while suguru keeps going below.

you come hard. thighs clamp around suguru’s head, whole body shaking, a choked sob ripping out of you. he doesn’t stop, instead he keeps licking slow through it, lapping up everything, fingers still buried deep until you’re twitching and oversensitive.

when he finally pulls back his face is a mess.

his lips swollen, chin dripping, hair wrecked. he looks up at satoru, eyes dark.

“taste her,” he says.

satoru doesn’t hesitate. he leans down, grabs suguru by the back of the neck, pulls him up into another kiss. this one’s slower but dirtier—satoru licking into suguru’s mouth, chasing every bit of you on his tongue. they moan into each other, hands everywhere, satoru’s fingers digging into suguru’s shoulders.

you’re still catching your breath, pussy throbbing, when they break apart. both of them look at you—suguru’s mouth wet, satoru’s pupils huge.

satoru grins, voice wrecked. “c’mon let’s see if we can do it at the same time.”

“s-same time?”

suguru nods once, already reaching to tug your shorts the rest of the way off.

“spread,” he says.

you do.

they both drop lower. satoru takes the left side, suguru the right. they meet in the middle, two tongues on your clit at the same time. satoru’s faster, flicking sharp little licks, suguru’s slower, broader, sucking you between their mouths. sometimes their tongues slide against each other over you, wet and hot, tasting you together.

you grab both their heads, fingers tangled in white and black hair, hips grinding up into their faces. they don’t mind. satoru’s tongue dipping inside you while suguru sucks your clit, then switching, then both flattening their tongues and licking up and down your slit like they’re sharing an ice cream cone.

it’s too much. you’re whimpering nonstop, thighs shaking again.

“gonna come–fuck!”

you shatter. louder this time. back bowing off the couch, crying out their names mixed together. they continue to lick you through it until you’re a trembling mess, pushing weakly at their heads because it’s too sensitive.

they finally pull back. faces shiny, lips red, breathing hard. they look at each other, then at you.

satoru licks his lips slow, tasting what's left of you. "fuck, you came so hard that time. squirted a little on my tongue."

suguru wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirks. "she did. tasted sweeter the second time."

they pull back slow, both of them breathing heavy. you feel empty and oversensitive at the same time, your own juices dripping down your ass onto the couch cushion. satoru sits back on his heels first, wiping his chin with his thumb, then sucking it clean like it's nothing. 

"fuck," he says, voice hoarse. "you always tasted this good or did we just forget how sweet you are?"

suguru stays kneeling a second longer, eyes locked between your legs like he's memorizing the way you're still twitching. then he leans in one last time, presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over your clit. he pulls away with a quiet smack of lips.

"how are you shaking," suguru mutters like he has no clue what he and his boyfriend just did. "you okay?"

you nod, but your voice comes out small. "yeah. just... a lot."

satoru laughs low. "ahh give her a break sugu." he shifts up onto the couch beside you again, pulls you half into his lap so your back's against his chest. his arms wrap loose around your waist, chin hooked over your shoulder. you can feel how hard he is through his jeans, pressing against your lower back.

suguru stays on the floor between your knees, hands resting on your thighs. he's hard too, his bulge obvious, straining the front of his jeans.

satoru nuzzles your neck, lips brushing your ear. "remember what you told me earlier? when suguru was in the bathroom?"

you tense a little. "toru–"

"nah, he should know." he looks at suguru over your shoulder. "she said it's been... what, four months? said the guys she's been with were mostly shit at it. nobody taking care of her right."

suguru's eyes flick up to yours. "that true?"

you bite your lip, nod once. "yes...pretty much."

suguru exhales slow through his nose. "fuck. that's criminal." his hands tighten on your thighs for a second, for some reason that just made him harder. 

“c’mere,” he says, voice low. not a question.

he stands up slow, jeans still open from earlier, cock heavy and flushed between his legs. he doesn’t bother tucking himself away. just steps closer until his knees bump the couch.

satoru tightens his arms around your waist from behind, chin still on your shoulder. “you heard him,” he murmurs against your ear. “go on. let him feel that mouth again.”

you’re still in satoru’s lap, back pressed to his chest, legs spread wide over his thighs. his cock is hard against your ass through his jeans, throbbing every time you shift even a little. he doesn’t let you move off him, keeping you right where you are.

suguru doesn’t say anything else. just reaches down, wraps one hand around the base of his cock, gives it one slow stroke while he looks at your mouth. then he steps in closer, the head brushing your bottom lip.

“c’mere,” he repeats.

you open for him without thinking. tongue out first, just enough to taste the leak at the slit. suguru hisses, hips twitching forward. you take the head past your lips, suck soft, letting your tongue swirl around the ridge. he’s thick…really thick that he stretches your mouth right away, salty and hot on your tongue.

satoru groans behind you, he keeps himself busy as he cups your tit, thumb rolling slow over your nipple. the other hand comes up to your jaw, fingers gentle but guiding.

“easy,” he whispers in your ear. “take him slow at first. let him feel every inch of that pretty throat.”

you hum around suguru’s cock and start sliding down further. satoru’s hand helps, tilting your head just the right angle so you can take more without gagging right away. suguru’s hand threads into your hair, his thumb stroking the shell of your ear.

“fuck yeah, like that,” suguru breathes. his hips rock forward, feeding you another inch. spit starts to drip down your chin already.

“look at you,” he mutters. “sucking him off while you’re sitting pretty in my lap. such a good girl.” his fingers pinch your nipple harder, making you moan around suguru’s length. the sound pulls a rough grunt from suguru.

you bob slow, cheeks hollowed. satoru’s hand on your jaw keeps you steady, helps you take a little more. “deeper,” satoru says quietly. “relax your throat for him, baby. let him in.”

your eyes water, throat fluttering. suguru moans loud, hips jerking once before he catches himself.

“shit—toru, she’s–fuck!” his voice cracks.

“i know. feels good, doesn’t it?” his free hand slips down between your legs, fingers finding your clit again. he circles slow, barely any pressure. you whimper around suguru’s cock, satoru uses the movement to rock you forward a little, helping you take suguru even deeper.

suguru’s breathing turns ragged. “gonna come if you keep that up.”

“not yet,” satoru says, almost lazy. “let her have some fun first.”

you pull off gasping. strings of spit connecting your lips to suguru’s tip.

you lick your lips. “want more.”

suguru exhales sharp through his nose. “fuck.”

satoru laughs softly against your ear. “greedy tonight, huh?” his hand leaves your clit, slides up to your hip instead. he lifts you just enough so your ass isn’t fully seated on his lap anymore.

then you feel it—satoru’s cock. his jeans shoved down just enough, tip nudging against you.

“wha–”

“shhh,” he murmurs when you tense. “just the tip, kay??"

you whimper, but you don’t pull away. he presses forward, he’s barely inside, just the head stretching you open.

“there you go,” satoru breathes. “good girl. stay right there.”

he keeps his tip inside your entrance. the stretch is maddening, not enough but too much at the same time. he likes to tease, he gets off on this.

suguru watches, hand stroking himself slow while he waits. “you’re gonna fuck her?”

“she’s ready,” satoru says, “you are ready, right baby?”

satoru doesn’t wait for words. he just rocks his hips once pushing another inch inside you. then another. until half his cock is buried, the curve of him pressing right against that spot that makes your toes curl.

you gasp loud, head falling back against his shoulder.

“nghhh...o-oh my–”

“shhh, i got you,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. one arm bands tighter around your waist to keep you steady while the other hand slides back between your legs, fingers spreading your folds so he can rub messy circles over your clit. “tonight is all about you. let me fill you up nice and slow.”

by the time he’s buried deep inside, you’re shaking, walls fluttering around him like they’re trying to pull him even further in. he groans low in his throat, “fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes. “been too long since this pussy had me.”

suguru’s eyes are locked on where you’re stretched around satoru’s cock. he’s jerking himself again, like he’s casually watching porn. he steps closer, knees bracketing your spread thighs on the couch.

he leans down, one hand cupping your jaw, thumb dragging across your swollen bottom lip.

“open,” he says.

your mouth falls open automatically. suguru gathers spit on his tongue, lets it drip slow and thick right onto yours. you feel it hit–then he pushes two fingers in after it, pressing down on your tongue so you taste him.

“swallow it,” he mutters.

you do. throat working around his fingers. he pulls them replacing them with the head of his cock.

“suck,” he says.

you take him in again, greedy this time. satoru’s still seated deep inside you, not moving at all but you can feel him just throbbing, letting you feel him while suguru starts to fuck your mouth.

satoru pulls back slow making you think he was pulling out, only for him to snap his hips forward, burying himself again. you moan loud around suguru’s cock.

“there she is,” satoru pants against your neck. “taking us both like she never left.”

suguru’s hand tightens in your hair, guiding you deeper. “look at her throat, shit it’s bulging for me.”

satoru laughs breathy, sounding wrecked. he starts fucking you properly now.

It’s real ugly, your whole chest caves for a second and all you can do is choke on a moan around suguru’s cock. your fingers dig into satoru’s thighs behind you, nails leaving little half-moons because you need something to hold onto or you’re gonna fly apart.

it’s too much but you don’t wanna stop. why would you? this is literally the most you felt alive.

satoru’s mouth is pressed to the side of your neck, breathing hard against your skin like he’s trying to inhale you. “fuck… you feel that?” he whispers. “feel how deep i am?”

suguru’s hand in your hair isn’t gentle anymore. he doesn’t care to act civil anymore—he continues guiding your head down until your nose brushes his pelvis and your throat burns. tears spill immediately, sliding down your cheeks and mixing with the spit dripping off your chin.

you gag once, twice, but you don’t pull off. you can’t. not when suguru lets out that low, broken sound, the one he only makes when he’s right on the edge of losing it.

oh how you love that sound.

“goddamn,” he breathes. “look at you crying on dick. still so fucking perfect.”

“she’s clenching so hard i can barely move.” 

you’re making noises you don’t recognize. desperate muffles around suguru. every thrust from satoru shoves you forward onto suguru and every pull-back drags you back down onto satoru. it’s like they’re fucking you into each other and you’re just… caught in the middle, drowning in it.

you missed this.

not just the sex.

them.

the way satoru’s voice cracks when he says your name like a prayer between curses. the way suguru’s thumb keeps brushing the tears off your cheek even while he’s fucking your throat raw. the way they look at each other over your shoulde.

“baby–shit, i’m close. you gonna come with me? gonna soak my cock while sugu fills your mouth again?”

you can’t answer, just whimper and suguru feels it. he pulls out just enough so you can drag in a ragged breath, then slides back in slow.

“come on,” suguru murmurs, “let go for us. we’ve got you.”

that does it.

something inside you snaps. your whole body bows, a cry ripping out around suguru’s cock as you come so hard your vision whites out for a second. walls clamping down on satoru like a vice, milking him.

satoru swears loud, hips slamming forward one last time. you feel him swell, then you him release deep inside, filling you up. “fuck—fuck, take it, baby, all of it—”

suguru doesn’t last either. he pulls out at the last second, hand flying over his cock, and comes hard across your tongue, your lips, your chin resulting to messy ropes that drip down your neck while he groans your name like it hurts.

for a second the room is just breathing like three sets of lungs trying to remember how air works.

satoru’s the first to break it. he presses a lazy kiss to the side of your throat, “not gonna lie” he starts, “i could stay buried in you forever.”

suguru chuckles, “he’s disgusting, isn’t he pretty girl?” his thumb swiping a thick stripe of his own come off your bottom lip before pushing it back into your mouth. you suck it clean without thinking. “and you’re just as dirty, aren’t you?”

“she’s still so fucking wet too. dripping down my balls.”

“you’re talking about me like i’m not here.”

suguru’s gaze drops to where you’re joined, then flicks back up to your face. “you want more?”

you know what he’s asking, they both do.

satoru’s hand slides up your stomach, cups one tit gently, thumb brushing the nipple. “both of us,” he says quietly. “at the same time. just like before, you want that, baby?”

you nod…small at first, then harder. “yeah,” you whisper. “i want it.”

suguru’s mouth curves, a lil too dangerous. “fuck yeah?”

“fuck yeah,” you breathe.

satoru laughs, obviously delighted. “that’s our girl.”

he carefully pulls out until he slips free with a wet sound. cum immediately gushes out, thick and pearly, running down your ass and pooling on the couch. satoru swears under his breath at the sight.

“goddamn. look at that mess.”

suguru’s already moving. he stands, cock still hard and reaches for the paper bag satoru brought earlier–the one with the whiskey. he digs inside for a second, pulls out a small black bottle of lube, and tosses it to satoru.

you blink at them. “you brought that?”

satoru catches it one-handed, grins wide and shameless. “just in case.”

“just in case,” you echo laughing, “yeah right.”

suguru is already shedding the rest of his clothes until he’s naked, all lean muscle and that thick cock bobbing between his legs. satoru follows, shoving his jeans and shirt off in record time. then he’s naked too, cock flushed and still all slippery from being inside you.

they don’t rush.

suguru kneels again, spreads your thighs wider with both hands. “gonna open you up first,” he mutters. he pops the lube cap with his teeth, squirts a generous amount onto his fingers. it was cold at first, then warming fast as he rubs it between them.

satoru shifts behind you, helps you lean forward a little so your ass is more accessible. he kisses the back of your neck, your shoulder, murmuring soft nonsense the whole time. “relax for him, baby. he’s gonna take real good care of you.”

suguru presses one finger against your ass—just teasing the rim until you’re pushing back without meaning to. then he slides in … easy, past the first knuckle, then deeper. you gasp, fingers digging into satoru’s arms.

“good girl,” suguru breathes. “so fucking tight.”

he works you open patiently.

watching suguru finger your ass open is making satoru’s cock hard again. so he doesn’t even ask this time. just positioned himself to go in you again.

he rocks forward. your pussy flutters hard around him, greedy after the brief emptiness, and he groans low against your ear.

“fuck there we go,” he mutters, hips flush against yours. “couldn’t stay out. felt too empty without me.”

you gasp, nails biting into his forearms. you could feel suguru’s fingers still working your ass open. every tiny shift makes them press against each other through that thin wall inside you.

“toru—” your voice cracks.

“no no stay still,” he soothes, “let him feel how full you already are. how wet you got just from his fingers.”

suguru’s eyes flick up from where he’s watching his three fingers disappear into your ass. he sees satoru buried deep again, sees the way your pussy lips are stretched tight around the base, sees the creamy ring of cum clinging to satoru’s shaft every time he rocks.

his jaw flexes. “you couldn’t wait two minutes?”

satoru grins against your neck acting innocent. “she clenched. what was i supposed to do, ignore it?”

suguru huffs a laugh. you feel one finger, then two, scissoring slow. every time he pushes in deeper you clench around satoru’s softening cock still leaking inside your pussy, and satoru groans like he’s dying.

“she’s gripping me again,” he pants. “fuck, sugu, hurry up or i’m gonna get hard inside her before you even get in.”

suguru smirks. “patience.”

you’re moaning nonstop now feeling suguru’s free hand stroke your clit in time with his fingers.

when he finally pulls his fingers out you whine at the loss.

“shhh,” satoru soothes. “he’s got you.”

suguru coats his cock, lube dripping down the shaft, shiny and crude. he lines up, head nudging your ass.

“breathe,” he says. “push back when i push in.”

you do.

the stretch is intense—almost like it’s burning, almost too much. suguru goes slow, inch by inch, pausing every time you tense. 

“almost there,” suguru grits out. “you’re taking it so good."

when he bottoms out you feel impossibly full. two thick cocks stretching you to the limit, pressing against each other through that thin wall. you can feel them throb, feel the way they twitch when you clench.

satoru’s voice is wrecked. “holy shit. i can feel him inside you.”

suguru groans. “yeah. me too.”

it’s now both of them sliding against each other inside you, separated by nothing but that thin, sensitive wall that makes every movement feel like they’re rubbing raw nerves.

you choke out a sob, “too—ughh too much! i can't-"

“you're doing so good,” suguru reassures as he presses forward again until his hips are flush against your ass once more. “just look—stretched wide open for both of us.”

“you’re leaking all down my balls. making a fucking mess.”

he’s right. you can hear it, the wet, sticky sounds every time either of them moves even an inch. it’s lube and cum mixing together, running down your thighs in warm rivulets, the smell of sex is thick in the air.

suguru starts moving first…each time he bottoms out his pelvis smacks wet against your ass, then of course, satoru matches him instinctively. he’s pulling back when suguru pushes in, slamming forward when suguru retreats. they’re not even trying to coordinate anymore.

it just happens, like their bodies remember exactly how to fuck you together.

satoru’s thick curve dragging along suguru’s shaft through that wall, suguru’s ridges catching on satoru’s length in return. it’s like they’re fucking each other through you, using your body as the middle ground, and the thought alone makes your head spin.

“fuck—fuck,” satoru pants, voice cracking. “i can feel every vein on his dick rubbing mine. she’s so tight it’s like she’s trying to trap us both.”

“she likes that,” suguru mutters, almost to himself. “clenching so hard when i go deep. you feel it too?”

“yeah,” satoru groans. “milking me like she wants another load already.”

satoru’s hand slips down between your legs again, fingers finding your clit. suddenly he rubs fast, messy, the pad of his middle finger pressing down hard while his palm grinds against your mound.

the added stimulation snaps something inside you.

“s–stop…o–oh i feel weird!”

you come hard. whole body seizing like you’ve been electrocuted. your walls clamp down on both cocks at once, trembling wildly, trying to pull them deeper even as they’re already buried deep. you squirt again–hot gushes soaking satoru’s hand, dripping down suguru’s thighs, puddling on the couch.

“shit—there she goes,” satoru hisses. “squeezing so fucking tight…gonna make me..”

he doesn’t finish the sentence. he just slams forward one last time, burying himself as deep as he can and comes with a broken moan. suguru lasts maybe four more rough thrusts—hips snapping erratically. he strokes himself fast then comes hard across your ass, painting your lower back, dripping down the curve of your cheeks and mixing with the mess already there.

“you okay?” suguru asks quietly, thumb brushing a tear track off your cheek.

you nod, your voice is gone, throat raw from moaning and crying and taking them both.

satoru kisses the side of your neck, soft this time. “you took us so fucking good, baby.”

a few minutes passed and the room’s thick, you notice that your couch is wrecked—dark sticky spots, one of them is for sure going to replace this.

satoru’s flat on his back, forearm slung over his eyes blocking the lamp. suguru’s on the edge, elbows on knees, staring down at the mess between your thighs with this blank, almost detached focus. you’re dead center, legs dead weight, skin prickling cold where the sweat’s drying.

comfortable silence drags.

then satoru’s voice rasps out. “we’re crashing here.”

“good. ‘cause i’m not fucking moving.”

satoru lowers his arm. cracks one eye. mouth quirks lazy. “you look fucked.” he sing-songs.

“no shit, your fault.”

“ours,” suguru says, already dragging the throw blanket up over your hips. satoru rolls onto his side, props on an elbow. watches suguru use the corner of his own shirt to wipe the tackiest streaks off your stomach. he doesn’t comment, just continues watching.

suguru clocks the stare glancing over. “what.”

satoru shrugs. thumb drags along the inside of suguru’s wrist when he takes the shirt back. satoru leans. presses his mouth to suguru’s shoulder, his warm lips resting. suguru tips his head till their temples touch.

“you stink,” suguru mutters.

“you like it.”

“shut up.”

you watch through heavy lids, too fucked-out to do anything but feel it. the way suguru’s fingers feel against your thigh like he’s reminding himself you’re still here and the way satoru’s thumb keeps up that slow, absent stroke over your knuckle. 

maybe this is what you really need.

suguru finally breaks it. standing, “you too, you stink. off to the shower you go.”

he's strict about the shoots he accepts, usually only taking the ones that cater to his more intense nature... ropes and chains and gags and rigs beyond the typical BDSM fanatic's wildest dreams.

he's worked with countless other actors and actresses—he's demeaned and degraded and stolen people's dignities for a paycheck hundreds of times over. but his favourite is you.

you're not so easy to break, and he likes the challenge. plus, all the videos you've made with him tend to make double his usual profit. the people like watching him bend you out of shape.

pornstar!sukuna is quick to agree when you call him late one night asking for a favour. you were meant to do a camshow with another pornstar when he cancelled last minute. and you know people are excited for this one—so you promise him half your earnings for an hour or two of his time.

he expects a homemade rig to greet him when he's walking into your home within the hour. maybe something a little more vanilla than he's used to, but it doesn't take fancy equipment to spank your ass raw.

so it's a slight shock to his system when he walks into your room to find a bunch of... pink. a camera and laptop feed stand pointed at your bed, which is covered in pink linen, and hanging from your headboard is a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

he sees the vision. you, laid out and fucked like a whore in pink. he could make you cry, stain your pretty pink sheets with your tears, his cum... he's eager.

until you tell him the handcuffs aren't for you, but for him.

in which semiu takes enjin to the strip club to let off steam and you become his favorite dancer.

cw: afab reader, reader is a stripper, reader has a christina piercing, enjin cums in his pants, anime spoilers(?), kinda ooc but whatever, squirting, fingering, dry humping, it is implied that enjin has a big dick, enjin is being annoying

wc: 1.9k

enjin’s had a hell of a week.

a call about a disturbance in no man’s land turns into being responsible for a bratty spherite kid who has managed to get kidnapped too many fucking times for his liking. not to mention a child turned his crew against each other with mind control before almost getting sent to glory in a trash beast. yeah, he’s about had enough.

which is why when the invitation from semiu came to have a night out in the city, he couldn’t have said yes fast enough.

the city was particularly quiet during the week, but the moment the weekend came downtown was flooded with people. restaurants and bars were packed to the brim with patrons, but semiu had a different idea on how to let off steam: the strip club.

enjin hasn’t ever been, claiming to be more of a dive bar enthusiast than a patron at a club. semiu was confident he’d enjoy himself though, especially since there was a particular dancer she knew would grab his attention.

originally from canvas town, you came to the city seeking a different form of artistic expression. you loved dancing, and with no other means to support yourself you auditioned for ballerinas, the only strip club in the ground. you quickly became a favorite of the patrons, to no surprise of the owner. you were beautiful, your bikini top reflected perfectly against your skin, the cups fitting just a size too small.

and unlike the majority of the dancers in the club, you opted to perform without panties.

semiu noticed you before enjin, the sound of your pleasers echoing in a dull thud each time you took a step. each time your hips swung your ass called attention to it, hypnotizing anyone that went to look. once enjin looked up at you on the stage, he nearly lost the freshly lit cigarette from his lips.

you were already staring at him, proudly showing off your christina. you had opted to swap the jewelry for a belly ring, wanting to bring more attention (and more tips, of course). the silver ring reflected against the light and revealed three butterflies that dangled over your lips. he was ruined.

the music started and you finally tore your gaze from the golden eyed man, sauntering around the pole as the 80’s instrumental blasted through the speakers. in no time you were in the air, your arms holding you up as you floated above the ground. the light reflected against your shoes as you mimed walking, and enjin swore he stopped breathing.

“if i had known the thing that would keep you quiet would be the strip club, i would’ve taken you here ages ago.” semiu teases, relaxing against the pleather couch as she watched you spin, your body molding with the pole. enjin rolled his eyes, ready to retort with some sort of rebuttal, anything, until he caught your stare again.

you were now horizontal, holding onto your feet as you spun around. your piercing caught the light and could’ve blinded him with how intensely he was staring. “damn..” his voice came out strained as he watched you, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. he felt almost guilty for staring at your piercing, but when you smiled once he looked at you he realized you wanted him to look. your legs wrapped around the pole, practically spreading yourself open for the entire club to see. semiu wished she could take a photo of enjin’s face right now.

bills rained on you and covered the stage as you hung upside down, shaking your legs before bringing your shoes to clack together. you were absolutely mesmerizing, enjin thought to himself. the staff helped sweep up the bills in order for the next dancer to come on stage, you blowing a kiss to the stunned customer as you walked backstage. you could feel him staring at you for the entire routine, and it sent a shock down your spine. you secretly hoped you weren’t wet up there, one of the few downsides of performing bottomless.

enjin followed you all the way until you were out of sight, making semiu laugh so hard her stomach hurt. “you keep watching her so hard you’re gonna break your neck,” enjin nearly choked once he got caught, grimacing as he went to chug down his glass of beer. “easy for you to say. she was eye fucking me from the stage. god…” he paused to palm his dick through his pants. at that, semiu lost it.

“i mean if you’re still pent up, you can always ask for a private dance. maybe she’ll get you close enough where you can fuck your fist in the bathroom.” she mutters while stealing one of enjin’s cigarettes, lighting it herself with a sigh. “go on. before you cum in your pants just sitting there.”

he says it's because nothing is as good as real sex, but you think it's just because he's bad at it.

hardly the dirty talker, toji gets you off with actions more than words. he's mean with sharp thrusts rather than degradation, and sweet with the odd kiss instead of praise.

on the phone, he's got nothing but words. which he sucks at.

"toji, your thumb is on the camera, i can't even see you," you exhale, one hand between your thighs, stimulating yourself in slow, small circles as you stare at a black screen.

apparently, facetime sex is even worse than regular phone sex.

"fuck's sakes," he grumbles, shifting around. it takes a moment, but eventually your screen lights up again, and you blink past the sudden brightness to meet the most unflattering angle of toji you've ever seen. "i can see you."

"me too," you try to stifle a laugh. he's got his phone right down so that both him and his hard cock are in frame. he's stroking it slow with the hand that isn't holding the phone, staring down at the digital version of your face.

"you can see me?" he asks regardless, a frown on his face.

"yes, you and your three chins."

"what the fuck?" you watch as your tech-illiterate lover squints down at his phone screen, obviously finding the little box in the corner with his own reflection staring back at him. "what the fuck? this is what you see when you're suckin' me off?"

you pull a face. "you're the one always wanting me to make eye contact."

"fuck this," you can vaguely see him roll his eyes, tugging at his cock a few frustrated times before nodding down at you—or, his phone. "let's do this then. show me your pussy. i miss her."

you roll the thought around in your head a few times, pretending to chew on your lip as you rub a few circles around your clit. on one hand, you'd like to see the look on his face when he sees you're touching yourself beneath the waistband of his boxers—the pair with 'it ain't gonna ride itself!' plastered across the front that you got him for his last birthday.

but after dragging out the moment, you shake your head. "nah."

"huh?" toji's feed glitches as he jolts his phone up to his face to get a better look at the smile on your face. "why the fuck not?"

"because?" you shrug. "i don't want to know what i look like when you're eating me out."

toji rolls his eyes again, this time in clearer view, and his camera shakes. a little—the bastard is still jerking off. "wait 'til you find out what i see when i eat it from the back."

"i will hang up."

"don't. you touching yourself at least?"

you give him a flat look, but nod.

"yeah you are, i can fucking hear it. you're soaked for me, aren't you?" he tries his hand at dirty talk. "you know i hate this shit, not being able to touch you. bet you'd cum easy with how worked up you are."

you keep your face neutral, but your stomach tightens a little. sure, he's 70 years old when it comes to tech, but toji's voice alone is enough to bring you right to the sweet sweet edge. the simultaneous blessing and curse of being an audiophile, you suppose.

he has a tendency to bark out orders, and you have a tendency to roll over and obey. he tells you to lift your top and play with your tits, you oblige. he has you stick two fingers in that pretty mouth of yours and 'shut up for a sec' while you get them nice and wet to fuck yourself silly on, who are you to deny him?

you can see the glistening precome smeared all over toji's length as the two of you fuck yourself slightly out of sync with the other. you try your best to curl your fingers up inside of you in time with the firm strokes toji gives his cock, but he's fast and mean with his pace and you're so close to the edge that anything new would—

"jesus fuck," is all you can make out of the strangled noise toji makes, and you watch as his contorted face suddenly leaves your screen, covered instead with a layer of... white.

oh, gross.

"did you just cum on your phone?" you gawk, your pending orgasm forgotten almost entirely. "on me?"

"shut the fuck up," toji grumbles. "you looked hot."

"you are fucked up," you press the pretty red 'END CALL' button at the bottom of your screen and push yourself up in bed with a sigh. your legs are a little shaky despite your lack of orgasm, and your head spins a little as you stand and walk from bedroom to living room.

there, toji sits on the couch. his sweats are pulled down beneath his balls, and he's holding his phone screen out in disgust as he wipes at it with a tissue. all he does is grimace when you walk in.

strong build, straight-set face, hands made to grip and choke and spank... most of the people he films with expect to get thrown around a bit. not doted on.

people joke that he falls a little bit in love with every costar he fucks or gets fucked by. it's because of that fucked-dumb look he gets at the end of every scene he does. glossy eyes and trembling lips and the incessant need to kiss after he's filled someone up. he says it's just the bliss of his orgasm—that he gets emotional in the moment, sure, but it doesn't mean anything.

or until you, at least.

pornstar!choso looks you up before his shoot because your name sounded vaguely familiar when it left his agent's lips. he could have sworn you'd fucked before, because when he rolls your name on his tongue it feels nostalgic, and tastes like the sweat and tears if a long night between the sheets.

he's so sure that he knows you just from name alone. it's fuzzy in his head, but he's definitely fucked you before. had you shot a scene together? or was it a one-night stand?

it's only when your name loads up on his screen, accompanied by more than a few videos of yourself in different positions, that he realises that no, he hasn't slept with you before. he's only fucked his fist to your videos more times than he could ever count.

he's a fan, even. your name has been typed one-handed into his search many many times. it's almost scary how well he knows you—what sounds you make when you get close to orgasm, how often you arch your back and try to run from pleasure instead of embrace it, how your eyebrows knit together when you're feeling so good that it hurts.

pornstar!choso realises with a now-red face that you probably don't have a clue who he is, and yet he's cum in time with you for months now. he's pretty sure he's drained his wallet a good few times on your cam shows... what if you recognise his name and piece it together with the username he donates under?

he debates cancelling the shoot, faking covid to get some time at home to hate himself in peace. but this would be his chance to learn what you really feel like.

he's imagined it so many times before. with his eyes squeezed shut, pumping into a fleshlight or his own closed fist as he thinks about how you'd feel instead. you'd be warmer, undoubtedly tighter... so much prettier. he wouldn't have to use so much lube—he'd get you nice and wet to start. taste you. god, he wants to know how you taste.

among other things. would you prefer to take control and turn him into the toys he so often pretends are you? use him as a dildo, some breathless moaning alternative to silicone that exists solely to make you feel good. or would you lay back all pretty and let him ruin you on his cock? how deep could you take him? he knows he's big but you just seem so eager in your videos—would you take him to the base with ease or would he have to bully it in?

pornstar!satoru who has seen his view counts—the whole world has seen him fuck. and he's cocky about it, too, loves knowing just how many people have gotten off to the sight of him.

who, despite his infamous confidence, gets nervous when you walk onto the set of a shoot and offer him your camera-ready smile. you're such a pretty thing—the merriam-webster definition of perfect.

so what if he can't help but excuse himself before the cameras start rolling? he needs to wash his face and sate his nerves. he locks himself away in a bathroom just to pull out his phone and google your stage name.

and god, does he like what he sees.

pornstar!satoru who is minutes away from having to be balls-deep inside of you, and is jerking off in the bathroom. scrolling endlessly on his phone, fisting his cock to pictures of you in a myriad of different positions, different little outfits, different looks of lust on your face.

he cums harder than he has in months, in a porn set bathroom, just to the fantasy of his hand being yours instead. he feels like a sex-driven teen all over again, hands clammy as he stares at the spilt cum all over them. if he were with you now, which he will be in just a moment, he'd make you lick them clean.

and as he washes his hands and tries to rid his face of the blush he's worn in the last few minutes to orgasm, he thinks he might be fucked.

pornstar!satoru who is hard again the second he steps out to find you already naked on the scene bed. your skin looks satin soft against those sheets, eyes soft and lips even softer as you watch him stalk over. consent checks and camera placement talk goes through one ear and out the other—he can't get his eyes off you.

he forgets he's a pornstar the moment his hands touch that sweet body of yours. he's completely fumbling the scene that was laid out. the second his lips part, all of the scripted dirty talk he'd had to learn is lost on him. the only reasons the cameras aren't cut is because the filth that leaves his mouth instead is even more pornographic than the scene at hand.

he's losing all aspects of direction. has you pressed into a filthy mating press when he's supposed to have you face-down-ass-up. who would he be to deny himself a long look into those pretty eyes of yours? no way is he losing that opportunity for paycheck he doesn't even need.

he's pretty sure he sees a director adjust himself through his peripheral vision. he'd feel stupid to admit how much he wishes no one but him could ever see you like this again—hell, he doesn't even know your real name.

pornstar!satoru loses all semblance of his curated persona when he grows close to his orgasm. his usual moans and groans are replaced with desperate whines of real pleasure. this is sex. he's a mess of need and want and sweat and god do you look good stuffed full of his cock.

he can tell you're feeling it too, that something else, that electric pulse between partners that gets lost when you fuck for a living.

he can't stop wondering what you'd look like pinned down in his own bed, away from harsh ring lights and the prying eyes of production crew members.

satoru has such a visceral feeling of dread knowing how many people are going to see you like this, fucked out and cockdrunk at his ministrations. it's possession, a need to keep you to himself, sequester you away for his eyes only.

so he cums too quick. he's made an art of holding his orgasm at bay for long enough to make a porno, but your pussy clenched around his cock was too much. your nails in the corded muscles of his arms, your lips against his, your body in his vicinity? he can't help it.

and you cum just as hard. milking every last drop of his second orgasm into you, you spasm and writhe beneath him in a way you just can't fake.

pornstar!satoru who, after wrapping up and getting berated by the director for disobeying every last scene direction, invites you back to his place for a drink or three.

and then gets swiftly rejected when you bat your pretty lashes at him and mention your boyfriend waiting for you at home.

Toji eats your pussy while he’s on the phone

cw: explicit smut, toji eats you out on the phone w/ shiu.

Toji’s got you spread out on the living room couch, one leg hooked over the backrest, the other pushed up and out by the iron grip of his forearm. Your shorts and panties are long gone—crumpled somewhere on the floor—and his broad shoulders keep you pinned open.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table. He didn’t even pause—just reached over with one lazy hand, thumbed it to speaker, and answered without lifting his head. “Yeah?” Voice rough, muffled against your pussy.

Shiu’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Yo, you busy? Got a job lead, need to talk details. You free to call?”

Toji dragged his tongue up slow circling your clit with the tip before sucking it into his mouth hard enough to make your back arch off the couch. You slapped a hand over your own mouth to muffle the whimper.

He pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny with you, breath hot against your throbbing cunt. “Yeah,” he drawled casually, “I’m free. Just eatin’. What’s up?”

Shiu snorted on the other end. “Eatin’? This late? You order takeout or somethin’?” Toji’s tongue flicked out again lapping at your entrance before plunging inside, fucking you with slow, deep strokes. Your thighs trembled around his head, pussy soaking his face. “Somethin’ like that,” Toji muttered, voice thick, lips brushing your clit with every word. “Tastes perfect. Real fuckin’ good.”

You whined and despite your best efforts the sound carried. Shiu paused. “…You good, man? Sounds like you’re multitasking.”

Toji laughed as he sucked your clit again, hard, popping off with a wet sound that was obscene even over the phone. “Yeah,” he rasped, dragging his tongue flat up your slit one more time, slow enough to make your eyes roll back. “Just… enjoying my meal. Keep talkin’.”

“satoru,” you say about a million times to no avail—he’s only walking on the treadmill, nothing strenuous that would need all of his attention.

so you walk over and take his headphones from his head, and for the first time ever you see satoru look genuinely startled. he had been completely in his own world, but the muffled audio coming from his headphones steal your attention.

“is that—” you hold the set up to your ear as gojo tries to grab them away. moans pour from the headphones, moans that you recognise immediately. “is that me? satoru, are you listening to the video i sent you three weeks ago?”

he had been off on a mission, and you had been beyond needy and sent him a short video of yourself as you came on a toy that most closely resembled his cock.

gojo grins. “it’s sexy.”

“it’s fifteen seconds long.”