ken!

“huh?”

“the profile picture.”

you frowned, glancing at the tiny icon on your screen. “uh... yeah?”

he didn't answer immediately. Instead, a low chuckle crackled through the speaker, the sound oddly amused.

“so...” he drawled. “you really want this place?”

“yes,” you said a little too quickly. “please. I don't really have any other choice.”

he went silent again. long enough to make you wonder if the call had dropped.

"then one more condition. non-negotiable."

you brace yourself, grip tightenening around the phone. "sure."

"free use. while you’re living here."

confusion knots your stomach. free use? like sharing stuff? wi-fi? sure, you barely own a coffee mug, anyways. In every angle, he's the one who getting the short end of the stick.

"deal," you agree quickly, without another thought, far too tired and far too desperate to question what he'd actually meant.

***

the moving truck pulls away as you lug your last box into the shared apartment's dim hallway.

sukuna leans against the doorframe of his room, arms crossed over a tight black t-shirt that strains against thick muscle. he doesn't offer help, just watches with hooded crimson eyes as you struggle past him.

"kitchen rules," he states flatly. "clean your shit when you're done. my space stays untouched."

you nod, throat tight. his presence feels like a physical weight. heavy and territorial.

for two days, you tiptoe around him, microwaving dinners silently while he ignores you completely, sprawled on the couch scrolling his phone. the silence is suffocating, but at least the rent's paid.

by the third morning, you're scrambling eggs in the kitchen while the coffee brewed beside you. It wasn't until you heard footsteps approaching that you realized you probably should've changed first.

you'd rolled straight out of bed and into the kitchen wearing the same tank top and tiny sleep shorts you'd fallen asleep in, never expecting sukuna to be awake this early.

the sound of footsteps stopped in the doorway. he looked like he'd only just gotten out of bed too, hair still messy from sleep, only a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

then you caught him looking at you. long enough to make you suddenly, painfully aware of what you were wearing. heat crept up your neck as you shifted your weight awkwardly, instinctively tugging at the hem of your tank top.

"...morning," you mumbled, clearing your throat as if that would somehow make the moment any less awkward.

he didn't say anything, just crowds you against the counter, his heat searing your back. one hand shoves aside your hair, his mouth lands on your neck. a wet, biting kiss that steals your breath.

"what—" you gasp, but his palm slides under your top, rough fingers pinching your nipple hard.

you blinked blank, very much confused. It took a second. then another. before your brain finally connected the dots.

uh-oh.

"still fine with it?" he growls against your ear.

the eggs were burning as his other hand slips between your thighs. you nod dumbly, the sizzle of the pan drowned by your pounding heart. but hey, even if it was a little misunderstanding, you weren't exactly complaining.

sukuna’s laugh rumbles against your spine, dark and satisfied. "good."

he doesn’t ask. just shoves your shorts down your hips, letting them pool at your ankles. the cold granite counter bites into your palms as he bends you over it, one hand fisting in your hair while the other spreads you open.

you gasp at the sudden intrusion, his thick fingers pushing inside without warning, rough and demanding. eggs char black in the pan beside you, smoke curling toward the ceiling as he pumps his fingers deep, scissoring them until you’re slick and trembling.

"quiet," he orders when you whimper, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a stinging print. "neighbours are nosy."

he flips you around like it’s nothing, hoisting your legs over his shoulders. your back arches hard off the counter as he yanks his pants down, and your eyes widen. fuck.

his cock was the biggest monster. thicker and heavier than the rest of him, dark red at the tip like it's angry at you. he’s really gonna put that in you?? lord have mercy...

he pumps it twice in his fist, before he starts poking and slapping the fat head against your pussy. the wet smacks makes you cry out. he shoots you a sharp look.

you slap your own hand over your mouth real quick, eyes rolling back as he massages your poor pussy with his mean cock. It feels more like he’s hitting and bullying your folds than actually rubbing. but those heavy slaps right on your swollen bud, make your thighs shake like crazy. you can’t think straight at all.

he gives your pussy a few more light, teasing taps, then finally lines it up on your hole and pushes in, inch by brutal inch, stretching you open wide as he buries himself deep inside you, bottoming out with a satisfied groan.

sukuna grins down at you, all sharp teeth and hunger. "knew you were tight," he rasps, hips pistoning.

every snap of his hips slams you against the counter’s edge, your jaw dropped open as he fucks you raw. you claw at his forearms, nails scraping ink-black tattoos as he uses you like a toy, relentless.

smoke thickens the air, the ruined eggs forgotten. your legs tremble around his neck, thighs slick with your own arousal and his sweat. he pins your wrists above your head, leaning close enough for you to taste his breath, hot and faintly metallic.

"look at you," he snarls, thrusts turning deeper. "best roomie ever."

you whimper, arching into each punishing stroke, the counter digging bruises into your spine. his pace stutters, a low groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, filling you with pulsing heat. he holds you there, until he empties the very last drop in you.

he pulls out slowly, leaving you leaking on the countertop. sukuna doesn’t glance back as he grabs a towel to wipe himself off, very casual, like he’d just taken out the trash.

"clean this up," he grunts, nodding at the sticky mess between your thighs and the charred pan still smoking on the stove.

you slide down, legs shaky as noodles, shorts still tangled around your ankles. the cold air hits your skin where his sweat had been, making you shiver. you fumble for a cloth, avoiding the smirk he throws over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

***

the next few days blur into a rhythm controlled by him. you’re bent over the couch armrest in the middle of his match, his huge hand clamped tight over your mouth to muffle your moans while he rails your cunt from behind. hard and fast, brutal strokes like he’s trying to break you before the game ends. later he drags you into the shower, water running over both of you as he pins you face-first against the cold tiles, fingers digging bruises into your hips, and fucks you raw again.

you learn real quick to keep lube stashed in every damn room. you don’t complain. not when he wakes you at 3 am by ripping your panties to the side, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, and shoving himself balls-deep inside you. not when he casually palms your cunt under the table, thick fingers teasing your clit while he scrolls on his phone, then just walks away and leaves you leaking and aching.

his rules are simple: stay available, spread your legs, keep your mouth shut, let him use that sloppy pussy whenever he wants, and take every load he pumps into you. and god, what he gives is good.

It’s clear now. his “condition” meant exactly what he said. and you… you’ve stopped questioning it. you just take it like a slut he’s turning you into.

From there your social quarantine only escalated—no playdates, no sleepovers, no extracurriculars—unless it was church related. 

Eventually, your childhood friends gave up even trying. You don’t even blame them. With your brick-like fossil Nokia phone you couldn’t even download any social media apps to keep up with them. 

Sure, you’ve technically been a legal adult for a while but for now you’re biding your time until graduation. You’ve already got a full ride to an out-of-state college lined up behind your parents’ backs. So missing out on being blackout drunk in a field somewhere wasn’t exactly tearing you up—there would be many more opportunities in college to drink that didn’t involve trying to dodge cow shit. 

But there IS one thing you definitely feel like you’re missing out on—

Dating.

Boys and dating are two things your parents, especially your mother, would absolutely not tolerate until marriage. 

No exceptions. 

Not even a chaste courtship with Ino—the good-natured, boy-next-door who played acoustic guitar for the church choir—was allowed.

You still cringe thinking about the first (and last) time he bought you a popsicle from the ice cream truck one summer. Of course, your mother snatched it right out of your hands then gave you both a scathing 10-minute lecture on how popsicles are a ‘slippery slope to orally sinning.’

You’d say she put the fear of God into Ino, but honestly?

Ino seemed way more afraid of your mother than of God—especially with the way he’s avoided you like some biblical plague ever since.

Not that you were too heartbroken.

Sure, Ino liked you. Like a lot. 

But you mostly just liked the idea of being liked. 

Still, the fact remains that beggars can’t be choosers and Ino is sweet enough that you would’ve let him be your first kiss. 

With a sigh, you shut your bedroom door—not that it mattered when it didn't even lock.

Your mother has a sixth sense for depravity and always knows the worst possible moment to barge in.

You can’t even goon in peace.

So something perfectly normal for a nineteen-year-old—like a vibrator? Yeah, no. 

You’d never risk bringing one into the house. Your mom wouldn’t just ground you—she’d send you straight back to the Lord himself.

Tossing your hoodie on your desk, you dig through your drawers for your favorite sleep shirt: the faded one that says Crystal Lake Camp.  The yellow, worn cotton is basically the closest thing you own to illicit contraband.

It used to belong to a hot camp counselor at the church-run summer camp your parents dumped you in last year, hoping it would “instill moral character.”

(Spoiler: it didn’t.)

Thankfully, every camper and counselor got the same oversized shirt, so it was easy to swipe Counselor Kashimo’s from the laundry pile without anyone noticing. 

And yeah... you shamelessly didn’t wash it for like a month. Not until the woodsy, storm-soaked scent of the punky, blue-haired hunk faded completely.

Nostalgia clings to it like old cologne as you change and enter your bathroom.

Sigh. Your nightly routine is as dull as ever. Brushing your teeth on autopilot, you rinse and glance up at the mirror. Gaze catching on your reflection, you just stare.

Same tired eyes. Same boring hair. Same pouty lips, still tasting faintly of berry chapstick—untouched by anyone else’s.

Well, anyone real. (Doesn’t hurt to stay ready, though.)

While staring in the mirror you often imagine Suguru Geto—your school’s unnervingly charming student council president—standing behind you, just out of frame. One hand ghosting over your neck, the other trailing down your spine as he leans in to whisper something unhinged in that smooth, reverent voice of his.

You don’t even need to close your eyes to picture it.

You’ve rehearsed this scene so many times before in your dreams you can practically see him in the mirror behind you.

A familiar heat pools low in your belly as you quickly flip off the light and exit the bathroom. 

Eee! You’re so horny—you need to get to bed like asap!

Your panties are already soaked, clinging to your heat as you kill the light and melt into the mattress—settling in like a seasoned whore slipping into her usual spot on the curb, ready for the night.

Daydreams are one thing—but lucid dreams? A whole different beast. 

Vividly visceral, they’re the only place you start living the way you were meant to. There you can flirt like a slut, wear skirts with nothing underneath and kiss boys your mother would definitely deem to be demons.

And in your dreams? They might as well be devils. 

Bending you over desks, pinning you to lockers, in their hedonistic hunger they are too down to stuff you full at the drop of a hat—usually more than one of them at the same time too.

You smile to yourself, already squirming just from thinking about your favorite senior boys who make up the main cast of your delusional dream harem.

First up—

Toji Fushiguro—quarterback of the football team, built like he does prison workouts for fun (which is convenient as prison is exactly where everyone thinks he’ll end up). 

He’s got a sexy scar on his lip, a black ‘67 Impala he calls “Baby” and allegedly a secret kid according to the rumors.

You’re pretty sure he’s repeated a year or two if not flunked out entirely—no one’s ever seen him in a class. Moonlighting as the school’s resident plug, Toji just shows up to deal, wreck the other team on game days and rail a cheerleader in the parking lot before dipping. As long as he keeps winning, no one seems to care.

The only place to reliably spot Toji is at his part-time gig at the local auto shop. You started tagging alone so much your dad thinks you’ve developed an interest in cars—but really, your interest lay in seeing Toji. You know without fail, the second your dad’s back is turned, Toji will tower over you wearing that deadly smirk and ask if you need anything “checked under the hood” while he licks his thumb like he’s prepping it just for you.

He’s grimy and disgusting. 

Far beneath any self-respecting standards of the modern woman.

And yet? 

You’d let him raw dog secret baby #2 into you—no questions asked.

Even so, you could only imagine the shotgun marriage your parents would force upon you so a much safer option would be…

Gojo Satoru—the basketball star that’s six feet of snowy-haired chaos with dazzling crystalline eyes and a mouth that never shuts up. 

He has no concept of the term “inside voices” and half of what he says is utter nonsense. Yet somehow the devastatingly attractive goofball still manages to be the school’s resident heartthrob.

Once you ran into him while he was skipping class on your way back from the bathroom. Thinking he’d ignore you, you were completely blindsided when he complimented your Digimon keychain like it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen—right before having the audacity to ask if he could borrow your hall pass.

And of course—like the absolute simp you are—you handed it over without a second thought before he could even finish the question.

Pleased, Gojo purred out a thanks with a wink, tongue peaking out between his lips

And then you blacked out. 

No, seriously—like full-on collapsed. 

You came to twenty minutes later in the nurse’s office with a goose egg on your forehead and Gojo looming over you amused as fuck at you giving him an actually legit reason to skip class.

Now he calls you ‘anemic girl’ in the halls and occasionally tosses you a hard candy like you’re some random stray he adopted. He’s given you 16 so far and you’ve kept every single one—carefully hoarded like relics—in a shoebox shrine under your bed. 

Obviously.

Although there is never a dull moment around Gojo’s chaotic energy, sometimes you crave a little order. Someone more on the straight and narrow to keep you on track. Someone like…

Nanami Kento—head of the disciplinary committee. 

Nanami is the only senior who people sometimes mistake for an actual teacher as he dresses like he already has 3 kids and holds down a grueling 9-to-5. One thing is for sure though, those khaki slacks that Nanami wears are most definitely working overtime as they have absolutely no business showing off just how double-cheeked up he is (and still being within the dress code). 

Nanami carries a clipboard stacked with half-pre-filled detention slips like he’s just waiting for someone to fuck up. His moral compass is so rigid it could be registered as a weapon. 

And if the outline in his pants is any indication—so could his dick.

One morning, you were sprinting through the halls, already late, when Nanami caught you. Flushed and fumbling, you spat out some half-baked excuse about helping a teacher.

Nanami didn’t blink. Just stared right through you like he’d already clocked your piss-poor lie and filed it and you under ‘pathetic’.

Yet in a rare show of mercy, noting your otherwise perfect attendance, he simply adjusted his glasses and let you off with a cool, “don’t let it happen again.” 

You could’ve cried in relief—which, in hindsight, would’ve been way less humiliating.

Instead, nerves had you whimpering out a needy, “Y-Yes, sir.”

It was the one time you ever saw him falter—just briefly—before he smoothed it over, raising a single brow. But the faint curl of his smirk and the darkening heat in his eyes as he turned away nearly brought you to your knees.

You would’ve gladly taken in-school detention and correction right then and there—which, unfortunately, left you fantasizing whether Nanami detentions come with safewords.

Still, there were times when the thought of answering to anyone in your already sheltered life felt suffocating—and that’s when you craved someone more free-spirited. Enter...

Choso Kamo—the art freak burnout with a facetat, who’s always “getting air” behind the gym with the other stoners, the smell of weed and acrylic paint always trailing behind him.

Notorious for that pale, sleepless Edward Cullen look, Choso’s eyebags all but screamed he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since leaving the womb. And if expecting him to sparkle didn’t keep you staring at him more than the whiteboard during class, the way he toys with his labret piercing using his tongue barbell definitely did the trick.

You’ve watched him do it enough during fifth period to know—deep in your depraved little soul—that he eats pussy like it’s his last fucking meal.

But the most disarming thing about him? 

That brooding emo-boy exterior melts into golden retriever sweetness any time he talks about his younger siblings.

Surprisingly sentimental, you once caught him tearing up at his locker over a crayon drawing his little brother Yuji hid in his lunch bag, along with the message to—“half a gud dae at skool :)” scrawled in glitter gel pen. When you handed him a tissue, he looked up at you with glassy puppy-dog eyes and whispered a broken, “Thanks,” like you’d just saved his life.

You can’t decide if you want to wreck him or swaddle him but either way?

Choso is your Roman Empire.

And finally…

Suguru Geto—class president. What healthy ovulating girl didn’t want Suguru?

Smart, commanding and terrifyingly magnetic—Suguru’s morning announcements feel more like political rallies. He’s got the presence of a world leader and the aptitude of someone who’d absolutely start a murderous apocalyptic sex cult. 

One that you’d be first in line to pledge yourself to, collar, chains and all.

Especially when he smiles that polite, unnervingly deliberate smile. 

Geto is always top of the class. Always ten steps ahead. 

Like he could correctly guess the color of your panties—and then know exactly how to talk you out of them for "the cause."

Your parents might’ve put you off religion, but you’d still worship at his altar any day of the week—even if he was Damien in the flesh, horns tucked beneath that gorgeous spill of raven hair. 

One time during an assembly, Suguru stated that, “devotion breeds obedience”—while staring dead at you.

Your panties haven’t been dry since.

All-in-all, with such a powerful teen dream starting lineup, of course it made the perfect sleepy-time goon fodder

Or at least—it used to.

Then the deaths started.

Peculiar ones. Grotesque in that slasher-movie kind of way that even left investigators rattled. 

Too violent to be self-inflicted, yet no signs of forced entry, no murder weapon, no DNA—no trace of anything, really.

Like their dreams themselves were killing them.

The few who survived long enough to wake up? None of them stayed sane. Every single one was institutionalized. And all of them raving about the same thing: A pink-haired monster who crawled into their heads and twisted their worst fears into blood-soaked nightmares.

The only thing anyone could confirm? It only happens while asleep. 

And it wasn’t just at night either.

A girl in your Biology lab—Riko—nearly jammed a scalpel into her own temple, convinced there was a giant bug burrowing into her brain.

She would’ve done it too, if class president Suguru hadn’t reacted fast enough—snatching her wrist and shaking her awake just in time.

Soon all over town, whispered rumors and wild theories began spreading like wildfire.

The cops blamed a new wave of hallucinogenic drugs. 

Churchgoers (your mother included) pointed fingers at violent video games and action movies.

But the older folks, the ones who’d lived here long enough to know where the skeletons of the town were buried, blamed something else entirely—a curse. 

An ancient and particularly malevolent one at that.

The local folklore of the town’s founding told of a vengeful spirit—one from an evil man from nearly a thousand years ago who could control the souls of others. 

One who was burned, quartered and his body sealed away for his blasphemous sorcery. 

Supposedly, he wasn’t even from the area and among the founding settlers of your town were the guardians of the sealed parts and they scattered his remains across it.

But these were just stories. Just silly hoodoo.

Or it was until Yu Haibara died. The pastor’s son. 

Bright, kind and beloved with no moral vices nor enemies to blame—that’s when the fearful frenzy truly hit. 

Yet somewhere in all the chaos, someone suggested a desperate, off-the-cuff fix—Dreamless sleep.

And shockingly? 

It worked.

The deaths stopped. Just like that.

Naturally, what followed was a strict curfew along with mandatory, state-distributed, sleeping pills were handed out to every teen in town. The heavy stuff—the kind that shoved you right past REM and into a dreamless, black void.

No dreams meant no monsters. 

No monsters? No mysterious murders.

Unfortunately for you, it also meant no wet dreams.

It’s been almost a week since your last one and you’re on the verge of crashing tf out. 

Forget killer nightmares—at this point, it’s the built‑up tension in your core that feels lethal.

Your one escape—poof, gone. Just like that.

God, you miss getting railed in every depraved way your real life refuses to allow.

Unlike the rest of the town—currently drowning in shared hysteria—you’re keeping your head. 

Thankfully, you literally just covered something like this in your psych textbook.

To you, the “dream murders” sound like a perfect storm of sleepwalking, mass panic and one very real killer no one’s caught yet. You’re not about to knock yourself unconscious any longer while everyone else plays catch‑up.

So tonight? You don’t take the pill.

The second your mother’s back is turned, you spit it into your mint tin for safekeeping.

You’d flush them, but hey—never know when they’ll come in handy. 

Maybe once this all blows over, you’ll spike your parents’ nightly chamomile and finally sneak out. 

Toji did say to stop by if you were ever in need of a tune‑up… and you wouldn’t mind letting him pop your hood—among other things.

Settling deeper into your pillows, you release a few cleansing breaths. You’re too eager to see who your subconscious picks tonight—or maybe something more collaborative?

Yeah.

A gangbang sounds like the perfect ‘welcome back’. Every hole and limb filled, twisted into tools of pleasure, used exactly like the desperate little slut you are.

With a hum you close your eyes and allow your mind to drift into sleep. There’s no way you could’ve known that the thing haunting this town wasn’t just real—it had locked onto you the moment your brain dared to fall into REM.

Inside of your dream world, you awake in the boys' locker room.

Nice. 

Looks like you’re getting that gangbang after all.

Although you're no stranger to the boys’ locker room in your dreams, something about this time feels off.

The rows of lockers stretch farther than they should, looming taller, their metal faces dull and streaked with grime. Overhead, the lights flicker with a  jaundiced glow, casting jagged shadows across pale concrete walls. The air buzzes with the sputter of dying ventilation and reeks of damp metal, mold, and something almost bloody.

Technically, it’s the same room. But it feels... wrong.

Too quiet. Too empty. Like a space between spaces.

Then again, it is the boys’ locker room—nobody expects it to smell like a field of lilies.

Then you glance down at your outfit.

No cheer skirt. No pom-poms.

No thigh-highs, chokers, or themed S&M ensemble.

Just the ratty Camp Crystal Lake sleep shirt you passed out in.

Yeah… that’s definitely not normal.

“Hey, cutie…”

Oh! 

Eagerly, you shove the weird vibes to the back of your mind the second you hear a familiar voice echo behind you. The setting was never the main event in your dreams anyway—you’d fuck on a cardboard box in an alley if the dick was good.

“…ya know you’re not supposed to be in here.”

Fresh off the court and glistening, Gojo rakes a hand through the messy white strands clinging to his forehead. With the other, he lifts the hem of his jersey just enough to wipe the sweat from his face.

“…but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Your eyes trail down his exposed waist, savoring the definition of his glistening abs. You follow them as they dip into a deep V-line, the waistband of his shorts hanging dangerously low, teasing tufts of well-kept fuzz.

Gojo chuckles, clearly enjoying the way you’re eye-fucking him like he’s girl dinner.

“See something you like, doll?”

He winks.

Thank god you never pass out in dreamland, although you do erupt in shameless giggles out of glee of seeing Gojo.

Of all your guys lately, Gojo’s been showing up the most—your unofficial dream boyfriend. 

So you’ve gotten used to this version of him—Dreamjo, as you’ve dubbed him.

No doubt nerfed by your subconscious, your brain probably built this version of him off that one time he called your Digimon keychain “sick as hell”—which means the man has serious dork potential.

Real-life Gojo? A walking ego-trip in Airforces.

Dreamjo? Still cocky, but also nerdy and endlessly down bad.

And you do mean endlessly.

Whether he’s center stage or getting gleefully cucked by the rest of your lineup, he plays his part.

So no—you’re not even a little mad that he’s the first to greet you after your dream drought.

“You missed my game again.” Gojo pouts, swaggering toward you until your back hits the lockers with a hollow clang. “Hard to focus on the court without my lucky charm in the stands... dressed like my personal guardian angel in that slutty Angewomon cosplay.”

You roll your eyes.

You’ve never actually worn the cosplay—even in your dreams. It’s just one of those weird lore bits your subconscious cooked up for him and now Dreamjo won’t let it go. 

But that’s part of the fun—letting your mind run wild, turning fantasy into fact.

Whatever. This is your dream.

Your rules.

And Dreamjo? He always falls in line.

“Urgh, just shut up and fuck me, Toru!” 

You mean it to sound commanding—but it comes out breathy, desperate and you can’t keep up the femdom act for long.

“C’mon… let’s hit the showers. You’re already filthy.” You whine as your hands roam his sweat-slick abs, fingers slipping under his jersey to grope at his pecs.

Gojo groans, gripping your waist, before dipping lower to mold his hands into your fleshy bare bottom.

“Mmm, so you did miss me…” His voice is hot against your ear, lips brushing your lobe before he nips at it. “Y’know it’s been even longer for me... especially since you cucked me last time.”

If you weren’t already feral, that line might’ve given you pause—lore aside, your dreams always reset. 

But you’re so hard up your brain automatically switches off when his long fingers ghost over your already soaked folds.

Your mouth crashes on his, hungry and impatient, making Gojo groan into the kiss. Lifting you with ease, he carries you toward the showers.

Expecting to be pinned to a tile wall with steamy water pouring over you—you blink in confusion when Gojo sets you on a bench, a wild gleam in his eyes.

“Aht-aht… I’m the messy one, baby. But you’re not dirty enough for a shower. Not yet, at least.”

Great. Even your own mind is edging you.

Not that you don’t love Dreamjo’s games—his teasing is half the fun. But tonight? 

You’re wound far too tight to mess around.

“C’mon, princess. Get nasty for me, please? And I’ll fuck you just how you like it.”

You pout for show but of course, you already know what he wants. Dreamjo’s wired into the most crazed parts of your subconscious afterall.

Gojo peels off his jersey and tosses it at you.

Catching it on reflex, the jersey is damp with sweat and adrenaline. You don’t hesitate to pull your own top off and slide it on instead. 

Urgh, the oversized fabric soaked in jock pheromones feels clammy and damp against your skin. Sick. 

And yet somehow your pussy’s even wetter than before as you bury your nose in the material, inhaling like it’s life support.

“That’s it,” Gojo breathes, voice thick as he palms his cock through his shorts. “Take a nice, lonnnnng whiff, babydoll.”

Gojo’s musky amber scent hits like a slap: the tang of salt and heat with an undercurrent of something primal. You squirm on the bench, thighs rubbing together, belly molten with slow, coiling heat.

“Heh, now turn around and show me how messy my nasty girl’s pussy gets sniffing my musty jersey.” 

You think about mouthing off, maybe rolling your eyes—but the way his scent is sinking into your skin brain makes it impossible to deny him anything.

“Toruuuuu….” You whimper out complaints, but you obey—because the sheer depravity of it only makes you more desperate to be fucked.

Turning around, knees digging into the bench, you lift Gojo’s jersey around your hips.

The basketball hunk whimpers out a moan as you arch—back bowed, cunt spread—two fingers parting your folds. A thick string of slick drips from you, glossy and obscene, smearing on the bench beneath you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the sight of his shorts hitting the floor—his cock already leaking globs of pre as he strokes himself slowly, eyes glued to the gorgeous mess between your thighs.

“C’mon, my pretty goonette princess…” Gojo as groans his own need seeps through. “T-Touch yourself…”

Turning back around to face the lockers, your fingers circle your fluttering hole, gathering creamy juices to smear on your clit. 

“S’toruuu c’mon… am I not wet enough for you yet.” You slur out his name, trembling with raw need to feel his thick cock inside you.

Exposed to the air, you squirm, the cool draft making your muscles spasm as you fight to keep yourself spread.

“Jus’ a second, doll…,” Gojo pants out. He’s so close now you can feel his warm breath tickle your soppy folds, “...lemme get a better look.”

The sounds of a lewd schlick-schlick, fill the room as Gojo fists his cock. You’re tempted to groan remembering how stupid sensitive he is—almost as bad as Dreamcho (Choso)—who often busted from just one look at your sloppy pussy. 

Gojo better not fuck around and cum before actually stuck his dick in you.

“Hurry up, ’Toru n’ fuck me before you c—”

You freeze as warm liquid splashes your backside as wet gurgles bubble up behind you.

He came.

Urgh fuck—fine. 

You’re taking matters into your own hands now. You’ll just have to ride his twitchy, oversensitive cock until it’s hard again, no matter how much he cries or begs for mercy.

Wait. You’re cooking, not a bad plan, all things considered.

As much as you wanted to be manhandled, bent over and used like his personal onnahole—there’s something equally delicious about wrecking Satoru. Riding him half-hard while he sobs under you, limbs quivering from overstimulation, his cock slipping in and out of your creamy cunny before you grind your clit against the feathery soft hair on his pubic bone.

Yup, you’ll take it—you’re still gonna give him plenty shit about it though.

“Toruuuu! You dummy, I told you not to—” 

Whipping around, you stop when you don’t see him. 

He’s gone.

What?! He was just right behind you!

Wiping a hand over your backside, you roll your eyes when your fingers come back slicked in thick red liquid.

Blood.

Oh. My. God—did that dork seriously get a nosebleed before even putting it in again!?

Well… wouldn’t be the first time the little perv squirted blood mid-thrust trying not to cum too fast.

But where the hell did he go?

Not like you can see anything now with steam rolling in the area like a tsunami, swallowing everything until the whole room’s bathed in a sickly haze.

Looking around frantically you spot it: a single bloody footprint leading deeper into the locker room.

Okay. That’s way too much blood for a nosebleed.

Your stomach tightens.

“S’toru?” you call, voice pitching high. “It’s okay, I’m not mad! Wouldn’t be the first time you bled all over me…”

Shit. Maybe the sleeping pills are still in your system, messing with your ability to lucid dream. Or maybe your poor, dick-deprived subconscious has finally snapped.

Okay. This dream is officially a bust.

And with nothing to show for all that buildup with Gojo, there’s no way in hell you can stay still. Your hips rock against the bench, chasing friction like a dog in heat.

No, girl—focus!

You sit up, close your eyes, force a breath.

With a shaky sigh, your fingers snake back between your thighs—just a few light circles. Just enough to quiet the needy throb at your clit so you can concentrate.  

“Okay. Malaysia. Beach. Gangbang. Any guy—go!” You chant it under your breath like a spell.

Nevertheless when you open your eyes, you’re still in the same musty old locker room full of steam.

Fuck. Well at least the blood’s gone.

But Satoru is too, every single trace as realize you’re right back in your old sleep shirt.

What the actual fuck!?

BANG!

You jump as a loud crash echoes from the far entrance near the football field. 

Heavy footsteps drag as the sound of metal screeches like nails on a chalkboard.

“Toji?!” you call out. Though your gut’s already telling you that’s no football cleat.

The steps stop.

Silence.

The hiss of steam thickens it’s angrier and choking what little visibility you have left in front of you.

BAM!

A locker slams shut—closer this time.

You squeak, heart jackhammering... but your fingers don’t stop.

They move faster now, shaking with horny panic, the tension somehow is making you even hotter.

God, you just want some cock is that too much to ask!?

“T-Tojiiii…daddy? Is that you? I’m really pent up—come fuck n’ me already…”

Still no answer.

Fuck—maybe if you could just get off a lil, maybe you could reset this weird dream spiral?

“Toji, stop playing around! I’m serious—I’ll…urgh, I’ll even eat your ass this time…how does that sound?!” 

Yeah, you were getting pretty fucking desperate alright if eating that caveman’s ass was now on the table.

A low growl resounds through the locker room just as the lights above stutter—then flicker violently.

Then—

Blackout.

Every bulb dies at once… except one.

It buzzes overhead, flickering weakly, drowning you in static and shadows. A singular light casts you in rouge.

The rest of the room disappears into heavy black fog.

Unnerving? Sure.

BUT—the red haze reminds you of something. 

That sleazy adult video store you snuck into when your parents allowed you to visit your aunt’s place in the city for your bday—who, frankly, didn’t give a single rat’s ass what a nineteen-year-old got up to.

The place was sensory overload—neon buzzing like a live wire, shelves of sex toys and cursed DVDs. You remember the sticky faux‑leather peep booth seat, the moaning through the wall—and that flicker of real flesh on the other side of the viewfinder.

And now?

It’s like you’re the star. On display. Center stage. 

And the idea of one of your dream boys dragging you into a sleazy backroom for a “demo”… yeah, you’re already dripping for it.

Your fear slips the leash, devoured by the hunger igniting in your core.

Well you might as well put on a show then!

Your frame control is shaky, but you force it—closing your eyes and gritting your teeth until it appears in your hand: a long, fat, ridged pink dildo. It’s curved just right for maximum g-spot stimulation and features a giant knot sitting atop two heavy balls at the base.

Sigh. It’s a start.

“Looks like I’ll just have to fuck myself againnnn, if no one wants to put their big fat cock in my wet lil holeeee!” you shout into the haze, voice frustrated with need.

Equipped too with a suction at the bottom, you hurriedly slam it down onto the metal bench as you straddle it. Steeling yourself, thighs trembling, you sink down—inch by greedy inch—until a desperate moan tears from your gut. 

You’re being extra loud on purpose, hoping someone hears. Anyone.

Oh sweet relief! The ridges scrape perfectly along your walls. Building up more pleasure, you tweak your nipples, moaning again as they stiffen with every flick.

Not enough. 

Dropping your hips hard, the toy slides in deep with a wet, obscene squelch, knot popping past your entrance, stretching you wide.

“Mother-fuck!”

Spasming around it, you feel a wave of release rippling through you. 

But even gasping, hunched over on the bench, your thighs clenching—

You wouldn’t be satisfied with mere solo play.

“Slutty ass nerd, ya mean you couldn’t even wait f’er me, ma?”

Relief washes over you—Toji!

Oh thank fuck!

Finally, sweet salvation. 

Wet from the showers, water carving down golden skin and sculpted muscle to soak into the towel slung low on his hips, tented over his girth. 

He looks positively delectable coming out of the fog.

And unlike Dreamjo, Dreamji didn’t fuck around—he just fucked.

Except… something’s wrong again.

Argh! You try to shove the thought away—desperate to stay in the moment—but then you see it. 

The scar.

It’s on the left.  It’s supposed to be on the right.

You’re not Toji.

The second the thought crystallizes, the illusion ruptures.

To your horror, Toji's skin begins to bubble like wax in a furnace, melting off in thick, gleaming globs. His flesh is sloughing off from the bone, muscles bulging as his left side bursts open, a chuck missing from his torso. 

You scream, unable to move—still speared on the knotted toy, legs paralyzed. Your hands fly to your face, eyes clenched shut like a child praying the monster away.

The air fizzes with something sinister as you fight to reboot your dream once more.

Yet when you dare peek one eye open.

The locker room is normal again. 

Pristine and silent, no corpse, no red blood nor haze.

But your heart seizes as realization sinks that you are not alone.

A foreign presence consumes the room. It’s overwhelmingly oppressive. 

For a moment you struggle to even breathe under its weight. 

Then a voice cuts through the silence, soaked in venomous delight that grips you in feat.

“Figures the only other person in this pathetic town who knows how to control their dreams is a filthy little whore.”

A masculine figure steps into view. 

There’s a bleeding red aura clinging to him as he looms above the lockers—eight feet of muscle and malice—shoulders squared beneath a haori that drapes from him prominently like a war banner. His chest is bare, skin the color of desert stone, marred with old scars and writhing with black markings—symmetrical, like incantations meant to cage something.

There’s just too much of him. Too much presence. Too much mass. Too many arms. 

Wait—four? Four!?

You count again, just to be sure—fuck. 

Yep. Still four. Each one outfitted with razor sharp claws too.

Yet most striking of all is his face—almost beautiful in a twisted, uncanny way. Four fiery crimson eyes glower down at you. Two in the right place. Two more set in a mangled, flesh-twisted mask along his right cheekbone.

Buffer than Toji. 

Taller than Gojo. 

More tattoos than Choso.

And with a commanding presence that would put both Nanami and Geto to shame.

Oh, this creature is giving major demon daddy vibes …and is that?

Holy Shit.

Your eyes widen at the monstrous grin stretching across his stomach—teeth jagged like carved ivory, lips peeled back around an obscenely meaty, drooling tongue.

Okay….This is definitely not where you thought the dream was going.

Your imagination is good—but this? 

This had to be aftereffects from the pills. You haven’t even been allowed to watch enough sci‑fi or fantasy to dream of something this elaborate.  

But one thing’s for certain—you abso-fucking-lutely have a monster-fucking kink now.

Sukuna growls as he stalks forward toward you, moving in the space like gravity bends for him alone.

“One, two…Sukuna the Curse King’s coming for you.”

Releasing a shrill cry, your pussy pulses feverishly around the dildo inside of you—shit you almost came from just looking at him—omg, how humiliating! (although you now sympathize a bit more with Dreamjo and Dreamcho).

Watching you wiping spittle off of your chin, with damn-near hearts in your eyes, Sukuna’s upper lip curls as he feels your fear lessening the closer he gets.

“Couthless woman.” Sukuna sneers. “Did you hear what the fuck I said?”

You nod rapidly, biting your lip, every nerve in your body screaming for you to run is easily overpowered by your pussy practically sobbing for you to stay.

“Uh‑huh,” you breathe excitedly, eyes still focused on that vulgar looking tongue flicking out from his stomach, “I, uh—something about you… cumming in me?”

Sukuna stops dead in his tracks, blinking with all four eyes.

“…You—What? No, whore. I said I’m coming for you, brat—as in I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Lost in your arousal, your dream brain doesn’t register the actual threat—it just chalks it up to your slutty-ass subconscious cooking up its most diabolical scenario yet.

Guess you weren’t so immune to the hysteria after all, well might as well enjoy it.

“Yeah—demon daddy, mmm fuck—murder this pussy!” you moan, desperate to swap the  plastic for cock inside you for a real one.

If the rest of him was any indication, his dick would be like a goddamn tree trunk. 

Oh you’d break for sure. 

You can’t wait!

“Demon?” Sukuna snarls, eyes flashing. “I’m a curse, you insolent brat.”

With a lazy flick of his claw, a gash splits open across your thigh.

The pain hits instantly. You scream as blood gushes—hot, thick, and far too real.

“Keh. Figures,” Sukuna sneers. “Bet if I cracked open that slutty little skull, all that’d ooze out is cum.”

A white-hot bolt of agony surges through you leaving your nerves tangled in something raw and electric. Confusion coils tight in your gut as the pain on some level feels exhilarating. 

Shit. Knife play too? Really?

You’d laugh at your ever-expanding kink list if you weren’t seconds from blacking out.

The pain doesn’t fade, it gets worse.

No dream logic. No mercy failsafe. Nothing kicks in to soothe it.

Okay, this is getting a lil too real. 

Frantic, you clamp your eyes shut, trying to force him out. Force the pain away.

But it’s still there—throbbing louder, sharper, deeper.

There's a siren blaring through your soul. Telling you something’s pushing in, peeling apart your dream from the inside out, cracking open your subconscious like a ribcage.

And the more you resist, the more it hurts.

Your breath falters. Your chest tightens.

All that shit you brushed off—the whispers, the rumors, the monster hiding in the dreams?

It’s real.

“Bingo, you ditzy whore,” Sukuna purrs evilly. “Finally catching on? If I kill you here—in your dream—you die for real.”

Your eyes fly open, breath hitching. 

He’s inside your thoughts too?!

“Of course I am.” Sukuna’s grin widens.  

“If I can crawl into these vapid, dick-obsessed dreams of yours, I can root around wherever else I like as well. There’s nothing you can hide from me.” 

Those last words bypass your ears entirely—hot and sticky, slithering straight into the depths of your mind.

“I don’t just know your fears... I bathe in them.”

Well damn…

“Ahhh, so you get it now,” Sukuna drawls, laughter echoing off the lockers. 

“You’re fucked—and not the kind you’re so desperate for. But don’t fret. One of us’ll enjoy it, pet. I’ll take my time… peeling the ski—”

“Wait!” You throw your hands up—palms out, halting.

“Sorry—, not to interrupt but... speaking of fucked...,” you cut in, words tumbling as your brain trips over the spiral it's in. “Just walk with me here—let’s say you did actually fuck me—would I lose my v-card in real life too?”

Sukuna stops. Not dramatically. Not ominously. Just... stops. 

His whole face slackens in unfiltered disgust that anyone could have terminal brainrot to this degree without quite literally being braindead. 

To add insult to injury, you simply blink up at him in earnest, like you actually expected him to take that obscene drivel seriously. 

You had to be categorically insane.

Sukuna grits his teeth. “Exactly what in the fuck is wrong with you, woman?”

You have to fight to suppress a giggle at that—beacause honestly?

A lot.

But you do not have the time—nor emotional bandwidth—to unpack all of that right now. Not when the only problem you care about is still leaking so audaciously around the knotted dildo still lodged inside of you.

“Look, uh, Sukuna, right? This cut sucks,” you wince poking at it, “but I’m still not totally sure you’re real. I’m like, 85–90% there.”

You cross your arms, unconvinced. “There’s just this stubborn little 10% whispering that I made you up to rail me. I mean… there’s a mouth on your tummy for crying out loud! Why else would you have a tongue that big if I’m not supposed to ride it!?”

Sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, resisting the urge to slam his head into the nearest locker.

You have no idea how powerful your dreams are. Consuming your soul would amount to dozens of others. Your subconsciousness is a loaded weapon—and you’ve turned it into a hedonistic fuck circus, it’s pitfull. 

“It’s to tear the flesh off the bones of women and children before I devour them.”

Sukuna roars, the sound shaking the lockers with unseen force. The mouth on his stomach splits wider—dagger-like teeth bared, tongue thrashing like a whip—clearly meant to terrify you.

Unfortunately for him, all it does is make you cream harder around the dildo as you tilt your head, genuinely considering it.

“Mmm. Yeah, okay I can see that too—but it honestly looks wayyyyy better suited to devouring pussy and breeding children, Curse Daddy.”

Curse Daddy!?

Sukuna lets out a guttural snarl as his aura lashes out in fury—but it’s no use.

If he had the power to kill your infuriating ass, he would’ve done it ten minutes ago. 

But it’s been a week since he last fed.

The whole town’s gone dark—one big dreamless dead-zone.

And you?

Even with fear buzzing under your skin, your brain short-circuits the second you look at him. There’s no room for survival instincts in that slutty little head of yours. 

Just one thought on loop:

What his monstrous tongue, thick n’ velvety, would feel like thrashing inside of your pussy, flicking at your cervix.

For once, the Curse King is at a loss.

He’s fed on nightmares for centuries. 

Roamed the minds of tyrants, zealots, serial killers—hell, even a few professional whores.

But never—not once—has he met a creature so catastrophically, proudly down bad.

Did you never leave your house?!

“With my mom? Tuh. I’m lucky she lets me go to school,” you snort, catching his thoughts.

You grin as his face falters.

“Figured if you’re poking around in my brain, I could poke around in yours. It’s called home field advantage, Curse Daddy. You’re in my dream, remember?”

Malice hums in the air and the tile beneath Sukuna’s feet cracks.

But you don’t flinch.

Because Sukuna has already said too much and upon that confirmation the power dynamics decidingly shift. 

“Anyway, judging by how much this fucking leg hurts, I’m bumping you up to a solid 99.9% real. And since you’ve already murdered your way through half this shithole town, you already know how ass-backwards it is.”

You press on. 

“Hate to break it to you, Curse King—but your reign of terror? Yeah, that’s over. Everyone’s doped up on prescription elephant tranquilizers. Nobody’s dreaming about anything anymore.”

Sukuna growls something under his breath about modern bullshit—how no tincture or herb in his time ever blocked dreams, only enhanced them.

“I’m SAYIN’!” You throw your hands up, equally annoyed. “We need our dreams!  I haven’t been properly fucked in a week and it’s starting to show!”

Your leg throbs, pulsing hard enough to break your focus. 

Wincing, you groan and slowly lean forward, using the leverage of your body weight to slide off the dildo. There’s a salacious pop that echoes once you are free of it, catching Sukuna’s attention as his eyes track the tantalizing trail of slick shimmering as it drip-drops down your plush thighs.

Indecorous slut.

Yet staring a moment too long, Sukuna’s eyes immediately flick to your face. 

Oop, busted! You smirk. “Anyway, if you’re really just a dream demo—”

“Dream curse,” Sukuna sneers. “I’m The Curse King, you crude little cumdump.”

“Right,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. 

Big difference. 

“So, as I was saying—If you kill me, you lose your only power source. You feed off nightmares—but you’re still standing here, aren’t you? That means you can survive in normal dreams too. So if I’m gone then you’ll fade away, huh?”

You cross your legs and fold your hands in your lap, playing fake diplomat which leaves Sukuna scowling at you harder.

“Let’s cut a deal, then!”

Sukuna narrows his gaze but allows you to continue, he had little choice otherwise.

“I let you squat in my dreams—for now. But no nightmares. No trying to murder me nor anyone else, seems fair, right?” 

Sukuna scoffs at you, all four of his arms crossing. “Tell me why the fuck would I want to squat in some horny brat’s cock-crazed delusions?”

“Because you’d be alive, jackass! Uh.. and maybe…” You clear your throat. “...maybe I could make it worth your while?”

Sukuna glares at you menacingly, seeing your pathetic attempts at tempting him.

“If I have to suffer, so do you,” he snarls. “And you think, someone as powerful as I would stoop to fucking some sad twitchy virgin who’s desperate for male validation?”

Biting your inner cheek, you bristle, your hands clenching into fists as you stand to face him, bare and bloodied.

“I never said I wanted your approval, you dream creeper!”

Sukuna laughter is full of dark amusement. 

“No, you didn’t—and yet that vulgar ass cunt of yours is practically penning me a puddle of love poems every time you glance at my stomach.”

You don’t need to look down to know he’s right. 

Yet the vibes are still undoubtedly set to ‘fuck this guy’ as your indignation builds.

“You’re nothing but a fraud, you know that!?” 

Rage, arousal, and defiance crackle through you like live wires.

“You couldn’t kill me even if you tried. You’re too weak. You’re nothing but a big sad bully,” you snap. 

“And now that I have an idea of how this whole dream shit works—you don’t even scare me anymore!”

In a flash Sukuna is in front of you. The size-difference apparent as his body dwarfs yours and all light cast upon you. 

“So do what you want. Cry. Brood. Fap in the corner for all I care!”

Your determination only grows stronger as you stand your ground, finally assuming your the title of deity of your own subconscious domain.

“Fuck you, because after I fix this leg and I’m going and getting my shit wrecked like I should have been doing all along!”

Because god knows how much time has actually passed—you might have to wake up soon!

You challenge Sukuna, eying him up and down. “And that's worse right? Sentenced to rot slowly, not quite dead but wholly dismissed in the mind of a ‘silly little slut’ who you couldn’t even scare enough to kill.” 

For a moment it’s quiet, only your huffs of exertion filling the space.

Then, just as suddenly, the room shakes more violently than before as rows of lockers begin to explode in shockwaves, the ceiling cracking like it might collapse entirely.

Through the chaos and rubble, Sukuna’s eyes glow sharply, locked on your form. 

“I’ll kill you yet,” he hisses, “That’s a promise.”

Ignoring him, you fling open the door of a mangled locker that has fallen on its side. 

What pours out is an otherworldly light, bright and swirling, reshaping into a portal to the deeper parts of your mind where your real sex-crazed dreams await you.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you blow him a kiss.

“Try it then, Curse King. Let’s see whose kingdom this really is.”

And with that, you step through—the portal vanishing along with you.

The realm rapidly dissolving, Sukuna seethes in the crumbling dark.

“Fucking brat.”

               all rights reserved. blkkizzat©2023-2026

𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼? then please 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 or 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠! you can also join my gen. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 or contribute to the 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨$𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝.

ꉂ a/n: i will release p2 of plug!reader (final edits), incel!naoya, elevator p2 and then come back to this before working on invisible man!gojo. [if i didnt mention it no im not working on it right at this second, yes i do plan to finish it, please don't bug me about it :) ]

bf!nanami who is a little bit mean about it, but in the most intoxicating way possible. he deliberately applies just a fraction more pressure, kneading the sensitive muscle with his broad palm and watching you squirm helplessly against him. "i didn't realize a simple touch could reduce you to this," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a gravelly warmth that tells you he finds this incredibly hot.

he teases you relentlessly, leaning down so his lips brush your burning ear. "look at me. tell me why you're trembling so much just from my hand. if you don't answer, i'll just have to keep squeezing until you do." he refuses to let you look away until you confess just how sensitive your thighs actually are.

bf!nanami who likes to abuse this newfound knowledge at every single opportunity, especially when he wants to fluster you in public. if you're out at a quiet restaurant, his hand will slide under the tablecloth, his fingers mapping out the soft skin of your thighs.

he loves watching you try to maintain a straight face while ordering food, your fingers white-knuckling the menu because he's lightly scratching the apex of your thigh. when you catch his eye, pleading with him silently, he just takes a calm sip of his wine and whispers, "focus on the waiter, sweetheart. tell him what you want to eat."

bf!nanami turns into an absolute menace behind closed doors. during sex, your thighs become his absolute favorite target. he likes to pin your legs wide apart, his heavy palms bruising your hips before sliding down to grip your thighs with enough force to leave faint, temporary marks.

he loves to deeply knead the ultra-sensitive skin right where your leg meets your hip, watching your back arch off the bed as you let out a ragged sob. "look at how flushed you get here," he grunts, his thumb pressing firmly into the sweet spot, relishing the way your thighs clamp around his waist in a desperate bid for relief.

bf!nanami who pairs his heavy-handed groping with sensory overload. while he’s driving himself into you, he’ll lean down to bite and press open-mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, deliberately targeting the spots that make your hips stutter-step and bring a sob to your throat.

he loves the contrast of his rough, calloused hands soothing over the ultra-sensitive skin, murmuring praises against your neck while ensuring you can't think about anything else but his touch.

The peek into your door sent a shiver down his spine, allll the way to his cock. The image in front of him way better that his imagination. Your room was dark except for the moonlight that shined through your blinds right onto your face. Your flushed face littered with tear stains. Your lips swollen, brows furrowed while your legs were held up to your chest- your nipples pierced (which shocked Choso so much he had to cover his mouth to avoid getting caught). And lower…

Lower he saw just how wet your pussy was, stretched while it swallowed every inch of your boyfriend’s cock. Choso watched the man pull out, your slick dripping from his cock- slapping his pierced tip (Another shocked gasp from Choso) on your swollen clit before pushing the thick cock right back in. You let out another (rather loud) moan, your boyfriend whispering sweet, sweet dirty words to you.

“I’m close- harder please Sugu!”

“Close my sweet girl? Rub that pretty clit for me.”

Choso’s glasses fogged up from his hard he was breathing. His trembling hand massaging his hard cock through his Naruto pajama pants. You were so pretty, and your boyfriend was too. Choso’s heart thumped in his chest, watching your fingers messily rub your clit in circles, your eyes staring right up into your boyfriend’s. “You’re so— ahh — beautiful my Angel…. fuck, I love you.”

That seemed to push you right over the edge. Your mouth falls open, Suguru giving you one last pump before a (pretty) broken moan falls from his quivering lips. Choso wish he could see how much he buried himself into you. What he did see…was the splash from your pussy getting onto your stomach. And Choso…poor Choso quivered, biting down on his lip as he rubbed and rubbed until he felt the wet warmth through his pants. “…Fuck.”

Slowly he stepped away from your door, shaking legs going back to his own. He made sure he closed the door quietly, leaning up against it while he panted. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he pulls down his pajamas, thick cock springing free and leaking from the tip. This time he’d properly jerk off, the thought of you and your boyfriend flooding his mind. The way you sucked him right in…the way he pumped you full- all of it. Choso’s head thumps against the door, hips stuttering into his hands.

He had just met the man today !

Now, Choso enjoyed having you as a roommate. You were really sweet and a smart girl….and he may have a little crush on you. Maybe you were a bit too sweet, not that he was complaining. Choso was grateful everytime you baked cookies or brownies for the both of you. He started putting your clothes into the dryer after they were done washing just because you started doing it. You called him cute all the time, flustering the man who’d stumble over his words.

…It was nice to have you around- something other than his studies to focus on. Someone to sit and watch tv with- and you liked anime! Though, Choso would sometimes be focused on how short your shorts would be, the print of your pussy outlined. Or the time you dropped a pair of pink panties on the floor in front of the dryer and forgot…And Choso definitely didn’t pick them up, no, he wasn’t like that.

But he did jerk off to the idea of you wearing them, despite the fact that you had a boyfriend. It wasn’t a shock to Choso when you mentioned him, he saw the way your eyes lit up and knew it was set. Choso had many doubts about himself anyways…was he even your type? Did you want a nerdy guy with glasses like him?

He held doubt until the moment your boyfriend stood on the other side of the door of your shared apartment. He stood only a bit taller than Choso. His hair dark and long, with a piercing through his brow, the side of his lip— and his tongue.

“He-Hello.” Choso stared at him in confusion, pushing his glasses up on his face, “May I help you?”

“Hey there, I’m Suguru. You’re my Angel’s roommate right?? Uhhh- fuck what was it? Choso?” Choso gawked at the man- Suguru, realizing he was your boyfriend. The boyfriend that was in a band, boyfriend? The man who stood so sweetly holding a plastic bag full of snacks in one hand, flowers in the other, and a duffle bag on his shoulder, boyfriend. And he’s hot!

“Oh…Oh! Yeah, yes that’s me. You’re Y/N’s boyfriend?” Suguru only smirked, raising a brow at the small blush that tinted Choso’s cheeks.

Choso was…shocked. You were total opposites! He was so alternative and you were so….coquette, in a way. Suguru nods as Choso lets him in the cozy looking apartment- curtesy of you who refused to have a boring apartment, “Going on two years now.”

“SUGU!” Choso watched as you ran into the man’s arms, watching as he dropped everything to pick you up. “There’s my girl.” Suguru kissed all over your face before planting a needy kiss on your lips. Choso watched the man tuck his face into your neck and inhale. “Fresh out the shower Angel?”

“Mhm!”

He closes the door quietly, nervously shuffling into the open kitchen when you notice him. “Oh- Cho! You met Suguru.”

He nods. Suguru hums, watching Choso’s face turn even redder. “Y-Yes I did! Um.. don’t let me d-disturb you guys-“

“Aw Cho you’re not disturbing us! Awwww my favorite guys together in one room, it’s so cute.” Suguru- still holding you- gives your ass a squeeze while Choso processes what you just said. “F-Favorite-“

“Choso, are you sure it’s alright for me to stay the entire spring break here?” Suguru gives him a soft smile. Oh yeah…Spring break.

“Y-Yes! I don’t mind really…make yourself at home Suguru.“

Choso had forgotten just that quickly, but Suguru made himself at home just as quick.

𐙚 — Second day of Spring Break.

The next day Choso was so flustered- so guilty about what he’d done that he tried to hide out in his room to come up with a plan to forget it ever happened. He’d asked one of his professors if there were any work he could potentially start on early, so Choso spent the entire morning working on a project due at the end of the semester.

This was good..this was really good. Choso felt confident enough to go outside of his room! His clothes hamper barely full, but he decided he’d do laundry to wipe away the evidence of his no good deeds in his Naruto pajama pants…which left him walking to the laundry room in a pair of his other Naruto themed boxer trunks.

The apartment was surprisingly quiet. Usually you’d be on the couch watching a cartoon on low volume until Choso woke up, but the couch was empty as he passed it. He opens the laundry room door and nearly screams for his dear life. Jumping back (and unfortunately dropping his clothes), Choso stares right at the tattooed chest of Suguru- your boyfriend. Standing in your shared laundry room, in his underwear and…cowboy hat socks ?

“I’m sorry-!” He rushes to pick the clothes up as Suguru chuckles.

“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to spook you Choso. I guess you’re washing too?” His hair was loose, falling down his shoulders, a soft smile on his face while he held your laundry basket. “I just finished washing Angel’s stuff. She’s sleep right now, so I’ve been finding stuff to do.”

Choso nods, opening the washer to find your comforter set.. The one from last night. Heat rose to his cheeks as he adjusted his glasses. “One sec.” Suguru opens the dryer to put your dried clothes in your basket while Choso stood by the washer holding his clothes.

Once Suguru was done he smiles at Choso before grabbing your large cover from the washer to put in the dryer. Choso also watched as a pink pair of panties fell from his hands. Were you wearing those yesterday? Did Suguru take those off of you? Choso swallows, the scene playing back into his mind. You and your boyfriend…and it was sweet, the words uttered to you- encouraging words as if Suguru wasn’t taking your breath away.

“Forgot I washed these together..” He hears Suguru mumble before picking them up from the floor and tossing them in the dryer. Choso tried not to stare..the empty washer slowly being filled with his clothes, but Suguru made it impossible sporting such a monster of a cock around out in the open (in his underwear, Choso). He gulps, “E-Excuse me..” He whispers, attempting to move past Suguru to grab his washing detergent, but Suguru hardly moved an inch. Instead the man leans down just a little to stare at Choso as if he were being studied.

He grabs the detergent, trying his best to ignore the heat of Suguru’s body.

“She was right, you do smell nice Choso.”

𐙚 — Third day of Spring Break.

Was it intentional?

Choso shudders, the thought of you that morning replaying in his mind as he fisted his cock. His eyes squeezed shut, hips fucking into his slick coated hands. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to feel what Suguru felt that night- the privilege to touch you the way Suguru touched you so freely because he could, because he was your boyfriend.

He’s walked in on you in the kitchen, hips in the air while you reached for something on the bottom shelf of the fridge. Just panties and a tank top and your slippers.

This wasn’t new to Choso, he’d seen you in your underwear plenty of times. What was new was the breathe that fanned over his ear, “Pretty view isn’t it?” Suguru hums, his hand lightly grazing Choso’s shoulder, making him jump and bump into the counter.

“I-I- I wasn’t-“ Choso was dead meat. He had plans to graduate and make enough money to start Yuji’s college fund, and your boyfriend was about to kill him.

“Hm? Oh, goodmorning guys!” You look over your shoulder at the flustered Choso who stared at your boyfriend. “Mmm I know the grapes are in here somewhere..” Your brows furrow as you search the packed fridge.

Suguru only smiles at Choso before he walks up behind you, hand on the round of your ass. Choso stares with his mouth open as Suguru’s hand fiddles with the little bows on your panties. “Need some help, Angel?”

“No no- I got it Sugu!”

“You sure baby?” His tone low and sweet, almost comforting if not for the fact that Choso could see everything- from the way Suguru fiddled with the bows, to the way his hand slides down lower to graze your clothed cunt.

His cock twitched. It was subtle, but Suguru seemed to not care that another man was watching his girlfriend nearly be fingered. Suguru glances over at him before looking down. Choso’s boner was enough to have the blushing man cover it with his hands and quietly shuffling out of the kitchen.

“Mhm…oh- there they are- Sugu move.” You huff, pulling the bag of grapes from the fridge. “Oh- Where’d Cho go?”

“To his room I think. Bend back over for me.”

Choso panted, cum painting his hand. It wasn’t enough, because while he thought of you, he thought of the way Suguru looked at him. Letting out a small groan the man takes off his glasses, tossing them on his bed while his cock sprang to life again.

𐙚 — Fourth day of Spring Break.

“He talks about him as if they’re in love or something.” Suguru huffs at the tv, “Even though Sasuke just beat his ass.”

“Toxic yaoi.” You shrug.

“They have kissed three times.” Choso looks over at the two of you. All three of you sat on the couch, with you in the middle while your head lay in Suguru’s lap and your legs on Choso’s. It was late at night when you asked if you could all watch anime together. Of course Choso said yes- picking up where you both left off of Naruto while Suguru (who’s never seen it) offered commentary.

“Be still wiggle worm.” Suguru huffs. Choso looked down at your body covered in the blanket big enough for just you. The comment making you giggle, your body shuffling again. “I’m sorry guys. I’m trying to find a comfortable position.”

It was fine. It was fine and Choso wasn’t panicking on the inside when your foot brushed up against his cock. You also had a bad habit of moving around regardless, not being able to be still for a second. Suguru’s hand rested on the base of your neck, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his pajama pants while your foot brushed up against Choso’s cock. Does she think it’s my leg?

His arms folded over his chest, breath hitching as he felt his cock twitch. For a second your foot stopped moving. It’s the end times, I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead.

But you only moved your body again, your foot resuming. Choso shudders, the anime long forgotten as he felt the precum leaking from his tip. He swallows a breath, looking at to Suguru who was already staring back.

Suguru’s hand moves from your neck to stretch his arms on the back of the couch. Choso watches as the man scoots just a bit, his legs widening, bulge standing proud as your hand palmed him. Panic flooded his mind. Choso wanted to run, the cold thought ringing in his mind-

Does Suguru know?

Suguru’s hand reaches over to tuck a stray hair behind Choso’s ear.

𐙚 — Fifth day of Spring Break.

“I’ve never done this before…” Choso’s body trembled beneath you. Sweat beaded across his forehead, his hair sprawled out on your sheets. He glanced up at you, your thighs on either side of his head while your pretty bare pussy hovered over his mouth.

“Do you want to stop Cho?” You ask for the third time that night- but Choso wanted it, all of it. “We could stop—“

“No-! Please I… K-Keep going.”

“You sure?” He couldn’t see Suguru, but he could hear Suguru. “Y-Yes.” He lets out a small whimper. You grab his nervous hands and bring them to your hips. You were so wet, and you smelled so good.

“You’re so pretty Cho.” You coo, “Wanna eat me out now pretty boy?” His cock twitches at your words, thick and agonizingly hard while he dripped upon his stomach. “Just like I showed you remember?” Suguru chimes in as he rips open the condom pack, sighing softly as he slides it onto his twitching cock.

“Yes please..”

His legs tighten around Suguru’s waist, pulling the man in closer. “Easy now..” Suguru hums, gentle hands grazing over Choso’s thighs, bite marks littering his skin. “Take a deeep breath for me Sweet Boy...”

“O-Oh my-“ His mouth falls open, eyes shutting while Suguru’s pierced tip teased his hole before slowly pushing in. And you…you tasted like heaven.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” You moan, your hips rutting against Choso’s mouth. His nails dug into the softness of your hips, his inexperienced tongue flicking against your clit as he attempted Suguru’s technique that he showed him earlier, but it was hard to concentrate with Suguru’s cock slipping deeper into his hole- slowly.

“Such a good boy, Choso.” The long haired man lets out a shaking breath. “Taking it so well for me…doing such a good job.” Suguru’s words flooded Choso’s head as you whimper. Your slick coating his chin.

Choso’s tongue drew circles around your clit, taking your pretty pearl into his mouth to suck on, “Just like that-“ His whines sent vibration through your body, Suguru letting out a smell breath once his thick cock head is finally eloped inside of Choso’s warmth.

“C-Cho-“ You gasp and he lets out a broken moan, legs tightening around Suguru as he pushed the rest of his cock in. Choso’s tongue licks at your sap, sloppily slurping your juices until you feel his tongue enter your pussy. Just like Suguru showed him….

A steady rhythm was found. Choso’s loud moans were swallowed up by your pussy while Suguru fucked him at a steady pace. The bed creaked lowly as your body leaned over to touched the headboard. “Don’t run from it Angel.” Suguru grunts, watching your legs quiver while Choso tongue fucked you.

Your slick pooling down his chin, a low whine of desperation from the man as your hips lifted just a bit. “Please don’t— f-fuck— run..”

“M’close Cho—“ You moan, gripping the headboard. This feeling better than his hand, better than his imagination of you. Tasting you felt like heaven. Choso wanted to fuck you.

Choso felt Suguru reach heights he’d never even considered touching. Kissing that pretty spot inside of him, his gummy walls welcoming to the large cock that twitched inside of him. He whines, hips desperately bucking for the man who only smirked and grabbed his cock that leaked all over his stomach.

“Feels good Sweet boy?” Suguru hums, biting down on his lip while he watches the tongue messily flick against your bud. He stroked the sensitive Kamo until he whimpered, cock hitting his walls so deep that Choso saw stars.

“Yes! Y-Yes…I-I’m close!” Suguru seemed to speed up at that, a choked whine escaping from Choso as he felt you twitch above him, his fingers digging into your hips for stability. “Yeah?” Suguru hums, the hand around Choso’s cock stroking faster.

You let out a warning whimper, Choso’s greedy moans sending sparks through you. “Sugu-“ You gasp, “He feels so good..” Your twitching thighs clench, your orgasm crashing down onto you, so hard that you trembled and trembled, yet Choso kept licking- kept sucking at your sensitive pearl. Suguru felt proud of his teaching skills.

“Gotta make sure you’re good enough for my Angel while I’m gone.” His thrusts slow down, brows furrowed as he groans, “I trust you Choso.” Suguru’s head tilts back for just a bit before landing that final thrust. Choso’s cock leaked all over the man’s hand, shuddering as he felt the warmth of Suguru’s seed through the condom.

𐙚 — Final day of Spring Break.

Choso had never slept so good a day in his life. It was noon when his eyes cracked open, staring around his room for the sight of you and Suguru.

His body ached slightly, but he felt…wonderful, cracking a soft smile as he got out of the bed. He’d been cleaned and clothed, his sheets clean and changed, his hair a mess as it fell down his shoulders. He grabs his glasses from the side table and slipped on his slippers before leaving his room.

The apartment was quiet, sun peeking through the blinds in the windows. He yawns, walking past your room which surprisingly had the door wide open. “Y/N?” Choso takes a quick peek inside. No answer. Is this what a one night stand feels like?

Not that Choso was complaining. He walks into the living room, no sign of you or Suguru. “Hm.” He goes into the open kitchen to grab a cold water bottle, cracking it open. His face warmed at the reminiscence of last night. How he made you cum, and how Suguru made him cum.

He flopped down on the couch (almost regrettably so), the ache in his thighs making his groan. Choso laid there on his stomach for a bit, the sleep wanting to consume him again before —

click.

The sound of the door unlocking made his heart race.

“Cho~” Your voice calls out for him.

“He might still be sleep baby.” Suguru’s voice alongside yours, hearing the sound of bags ruffling.

“I’m on the couch…” Choso lifts his head at the smell of food before sitting up on the couch. You perk up, holding one of the bags, “We got you something to eat, and some medicine just in case.” You walk over, kissing the top of his forehead as you hand him the hot bag.

“Th-Thank you.” He blushes, smiling softly at you. This was better than nothing. There was a small shift in the air also. He watches as Suguru wraps his arms around your body, his lips brushing up against yours as you both carried similar bags, and….flowers, like the ones Suguru brought you earlier that week. “Where else did you guys go?”

“Well, you were out cold,” Suguru yawns, sitting down next to Choso on the couch. “so we went to the mall to get a few gifts for each other.”

“Gifts?”

You sit on the other side of Choso, your food sitting in your lap as you yawn. “Mmhm, it’s our anniversary week.” Choso pauses, looking over at you before glancing at Suguru.

“Anniversary…?”

“Two years.” Suguru nods.

“W-Was I an anniversary gift?” Choso looks at you. You stare back for a bit, silent, before bursting into giggles. “No, of course not….Truth be told, I knew you liked me, but I don’t fuck other people unless Sugu’s involved.”

“So…you guys do this often?”

“Only if it’s a mutual thing.” Suguru chuckles, arm reaching around you and Choso. “Round 2?”

You look over at Choso’s flushed face, smiling softly as he looked down at his lap. “Yes please..”

Groaning, your bleary eyes open. Your head is swimming. The pain is dull but powerful, as though hidden behind a layer, angry and wanting to be let out. Bright light through a window almost blinds you. You groan again, burying your head in a hard wall. 

Huh?

Your eyes shoot open. You’re laying on someone’s chest. You look up. Dazzling blue eyes stare down at you through a pair of glasses, a brow cocked up. Then you feel it — something hot and heavy slotted between your asscheeks, and a hand gripping your hip. 

With a scream, you jolt up, scrambling to get off the bed, only to fall right back onto the mattress when resistance meets your arms. 

Two faces fill your vision from above. 

Same dazzling blue eyes. 

One smirking.

One not. 

Both near-mirror copies of the other. 

You scream again.

They wince. 

“C-clones! You’re clones! Oh my god, please don’t probe me.”

The one on your left laughs so loudly it becomes your turn to wince. “Dude! She thinks we’re aliens!”

The other sighs and adjusts his glasses. “We’re not aliens. We’re twins. Monozygotic. Monoamniotic-Monoamniotic, to be exact.”

Lightly shoving the other by the shoulder, one of them says, “Jeez, don’t get all sciency around a chick. Just say ‘MoMo’, like I’ve been saying.” He turns to you, smiling. “We’re identical twins — I’m Toru, a Marketing student, and this ugly freak is Sato. Engineering. We’re both third years. And you are?”

Why are they acting so casual?

They’re in bed with a complete stranger, who could be a serial killer, and yet they’re introducing themselves to you like nothing’s remotely odd about the situation. Or maybe you’re in bed with serial killers. Hot serial killers, but that’s how they get you.

Unnerved by their matching stares, you stammer out your name, followed by a, “I’m an Anthropology student. Second year. It’s a pleasure to meet you?”

The sentence comes out less a statement and more a question, and you grimace at your unsocial self.

Toru leans forward, grinning. “You’re so polite. How adorable. Makes me wanna just gobble you up.” He mimics the actions of munching on your face, nom noming. 

His twin sighs again and lifts his hand up. Yours is brought up with it. All of you eye the thing that clanks and jingles with the movement. Sato drawls, “Instead of flirting with her, why don’t we address the elephant in the room — why the hell are we cuffed together and in his bed?”

That’s when you finally realise you’re not in your own dorm. The room’s much bigger, much more lived in and homely. Heck, the bed itself is bigger than the stiff single that the school provides everyone. Comfier, too. And with someone’s abs plastered all over the covers.

Posters of sporting legends litter the walls, as do posters of rock bands and carelessly stuck on polaroids of one of the twins, or both of them, or people you can only assume to be their friends. 

It even smells differently here than in your room; whilst yours smells of academic pressures and manically drunk coffee, this one smells of leftover thrill and aftershave. Clothes litter the floor, bordered by empty beer cans, and a pair of red lacey panties in the corner. 

Toru follows your eyes to it, and then hastily clarifies, “It’s not mine — I don’t crossdress or anything.”

Sato rolls his eyes, and snarks, “She knows that, idiot. She’s thinking what a pigsty your room is.” Glancing at you, he adds, “My dumbass brother’s incapable of cleaning up after himself. Judge him freely, he deserves it.”

Ignoring both of them, you lift your arms up, struggling with the new weight and gawk at the pink fuzzy cuffs adorning your wrists. Slowly, you say, “What…the…actual…fuck?”

You’re handcuffed to two strangers. 

Two hot strangers who keep women’s underwear in their rooms.

Frantically, you glance down at yourself and release a relieved breath when you confirm that you’re fully dressed in what you remember coming to the party in the first place: a short skirt you borrowed from a friend, a nice top, and beat up Converse that you wouldn’t mind getting beer spilled on. Your phone’s in your skirt pocket, along with your keycard. So all the valuables you brought to your friend’s apartment are still with you. Nothing feels out of place, which you thank god profusely for. 

But what happened after the round of pres at your friend? 

“I don’t remember a single thing that happened last night,” you voice aloud, frowning. “I don’t remember why we’re cuffed together, or who you two are to me.”

Not a single thing comes to mind — what you drank, who you spoke to, how much you drank, if you did anything crazy, if you lost some kind of dare and had to face punishment by being bound to two guys, and where your friends are.

Sato knits his brows together. “Neither. I only remember helping set up.”

“I don’t remember anything either,” his brother says, attempting to scratch the back of his head with the hand that’s connected to yours, laughing at himself, then finally using his free hand. He shrugs. “But then again, that’s not unusual for me. The best parties are the ones you don’t remember.”

You want to question how that could be possible, but you keep your mouth shut. 

“Anyone feel a key on them?” one of the twins asks, inspecting the holes of the cuffs that bind you to him. He looks displeased at the fuzziness of the thing. Your hand hangs limply in the air.

All three of you look, lifting covers, checking inside your clothes, on the desk, under pillows, and nothing. 

“Nope!”

“No.”

“I don’t see anything.”

Your heart begins to race, reality sinking in hard and fast and intensifying your headache. “We’re done for. We’re stuck like this forever. We’re going to die like this!”

“Calm down,” Sato deadpans, totally judging you based on how he fights the urge to look you over the rim of his glasses. “We’re not going to die. We just need to figure out who did it to us, where they are, and if they have the key — worse comes to worse, we don’t find them or they don’t have the key, we can just go to the fire station and ask them to cut us out.”

Toru whoops in the hair and ruffles his brother’s hair. The brother in question scowls and shoves the hand away. “Nice one, big bro. Didn’t even think of that; I was on the ‘we’re doomed’ boat.”

That makes sense. 

Yeah, there’s no need to panic. 

Except, there’s a major issue.

“Guys,” you start, lip trembling, “...I really need to pee.”

The two of them look at each other, then at you, then at the door, then back at each other. 

“C-can you hold it?” Toru asks, sounding more frightened about the idea than you.

You shake your head, legs crossed.

And that’s how you find yourself sitting on the toilet in his en-suite bathroom, flanked by two guys, who at least have the decency to look away. One of them whistles awkwardly, and the other taps on his phone. 

This is a nightmare. You don’t want to be pissing with an audience, especially not this close. It’s way too embarrassing. 

Sato clicks his tongue, pink tinting the tips of his ears. “Why aren’t you going?”

“‘cause it’s weird,” you mutter, shuffling on the seat. The toilet’s kept pretty clean. It looks practically unused, which just makes you feel worse about defiling it.

“You having performance anxiety, Second year?” Toru teases, rocking on the balls of his feet.

He doesn’t need to sound so amused by the idea, you dryly think. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you grumble, “Anyone would if they were in my position.”

“I wouldn’t,” Toru chirps, swinging the hands you two are joint at back and forth absentmindedly. “Hell, I’ll pee between your legs right now to prove it. I’ve got pretty good aim.”

“Please don’t.”

God, this is the most shameful thing that’s ever happened to you. What did you do to deserve this?

Left with no choice, you let the stream go and grit your teeth. 

One of them hums approvingly. “Solid stream — bitches with good pussy piss loud as fuck, and it do be sounding like you’re frying chicken.”

Your jaw drops. Aghast, you shake your wrist and smack his own hand against his leg. “Can you not comment on my pee, Toru?”

His twin smacks him upside the head. “Don’t call women bitches.”

He groans. “Does no one get the reference? Ugh, whatever. Just hurry up and wipe. I need to pee too.”

“Oh no.”

Both of your hands are connected to theirs… One of them’s going to have to get between your legs. When you look up at their suddenly stiff backs, you know they realised it too. 

Toru whistles low. “Who’s it gonna be, Second Year?”

“Why do I have to choose?” you ask, though you already know the answer. They’re basically asking you who you’re more comfortable with, and oddly, you don’t want to offend either of them. Is this your Sophie’s Choice?

Sato continues tapping away on his phone one-handedly. “Either one of us is fine to do it. It all depends on who you’d prefer — it’s not like we’re actually wiping for you.”

If you really had to choose, then…

Wriggling a specific hand, you shamefully mutter, “Can you do it with me?”

He sighs, and slacks his arm so you can pull your hand towards yourself. The twin has to bend down at the knee slightly, still looking away. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. 

Through the whole thing, you’re cringing, cheeks flushed, and wanting the world to open up and consume you whole. Can this morning get worse? 

“Done,” you mumble, making sure no one’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sato mutters. 

On the other side, Toru grumbles so depressedly you can practically see a raincloud storming over his head, “Why didn’t you choose me? I’d be a good pussy wiper.”

More rises to your cheeks. You hurriedly pull your pants back up and flush. “No one was asking to wipe anyone’s…ahem. And the fact that you’re so eager is kinda the reason why I didn’t choose you.”

Toru raises his hands, and one of yours, in surrender. 

After you, they both take turns peeing. You look away, shutting your eyes tight for good measure. You even hum under your breath to distract from the sounds. Sato, you notice, clears his throat before he goes, whereas Toru mumbles some song lyrics. It sounds like Up by Cardi B. 

You hate that you’re hyper aware of every shuffle, every brush against you, every time their knuckles graze yours, and each breath they take.

The twins are hot.

Have you said that already?

Because they are. 

Maybe if they were uglier, more normal looking, you wouldn’t be so on edge.

And you know it’s wrong to think like that about strangers, but they are hot. Stupidly so. 

They’re the same height, with sharp jawlines and identical signet rings glinting on their pinkies. They’re definitely identical twins, but they look so different from each other, that with or without the glasses, you’d know who was who. Anyone would. 

Toru wears a white T-shirt with an arrow pointing upward and downwards ,and the words “Best Seats in the House” printed beneath it, whilst Sato has on glasses and a blue T-shirt layered over a grey long-sleeve, the front patterned with chemical symbols spelling out MoAN.

Toru is broader, his biceps visibly defined beneath the cotton, muscle pressing against the sleeves. The underside of his hair at the back is buzzed. He has a brow piercing. Sato, by contrast, is leaner, his frame slimmer and his hair longer and more shaggy. He’s still quite muscular in comparison to the Engineering students you’ve seen, which isn’t a fair comparison because most of the STEM guys you’ve met look like the stereotype. No offence to them.

Toru wears ripped light wash jeans that hang low on his hips, revealing a Calvin Klein band, and Sato’s the same except his are darker blue. Both jeans hug their asses perf—

No, bad.

Stop noticing things about them. 

After you get out of the cuffs, you’re never going to see them again, and it’ll be like this never happened. Don’t get attached. Don’t get too involved. Find the keys and skedaddle! 

The three of you wash your hands, taking turns to brush your teeth and wash your face, all awkwardly trying to shuffle with each other. It’s clumsy at first but you do eventually get a rhythm going. 

Eventually, you walk back out into the messy room, fresher and cleaner.

“We need to figure out what happened,” Sato states, brows furrowed. “If we got cuffed together during last night’s party, there’s a chance the key’s hanging around the frat house. We should look for it, jog our memories and retrace our steps.”

Toru scratches his stomach, revealing a flash of a white happy trail. His brother catches you looking. He cocks a brow. You snatch your gaze away. Toru says, “We won’t need to do all that — I think I know who did this to us.”

“Who?” you ask, louder than you intended.

He answers, grimacing, “A friend of ours. Sukuna. Well, friend’s a loose term. We’re frenemies, I guess. He’s funny, but he’s not the nicest guy around.” 

It’s a vaguely familiar name, but you know you’ve never met a Sukuna before. By the sound of Sato cursing, you get the impression that it’s not the name of a man who you’d be happy to find out has cuffed you to a stranger. And that makes you all the more desperate to get out of the way of whatever rivalry they have going on. 

“It’s a prank he likes to pull. He did it to Choso and a lamppost because the guy was giving family weed away for free to some girl, and that’s his literal cousin,” Toru explains. “If we gotta look anywhere, I think we should look at him.”

Smiling, you say, “That’s great! We have a solid plan.”

Sato glances down at you, not looking anywhere near as happy. Adjusting his glasses, he warns, “Sukuna’s an asshole. He’s not gonna be easy to get a hold of. Not to mention, if he did this to us, he must think we’ve done something wrong in his eyes, so he’ll be extra annoying.”

Much more cheerful in comparison, Toru throws an arm around his twin. “Now now, big bro. That’s not the spirit.”

They both look at you; one with a wide grin and the other with a deadpan expression. 

“We’ve got an adventure to go on — let’s have some fun.”

.

.

.

“Wait, you’re members of a frat?” you ask, marvelling at the two of them. 

What they’d said earlier only registered now, as you’re walking through campus, and now that you think about it, it explains why Toru has a room in the frat house in the first place.

Campus isn’t as busy as it usually is on the weekdays, which is good because it minimises the number of gawking you’re getting. Guess seeing three people cuffed together isn’t a very common occurrence, even in university. 

The three of you had decided to track down this Sukuna. Sato looked up something online and informed you that the wanted man’s a hockey player, and the team has practice right now, in preparation for tonight’s game. So you raced out of the thoroughly trashed frat house as soon as you could, wanting to make sure you could catch him, corner him, shake the key out of him all before noon. And before his whereabouts become unknown.

Toru shakes his head, and ruffles your hair. He’s quickly gotten quite familiar with you, not that you mind. “Nah, little lady. Only I am. Frat prez, actually,” he says, nodding proudly. “My brother here just comes along ‘cause he’s a party animal.”

Sato fixes him with a blank look. “I’m not a party animal. I attend these things because someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

Mischievously, Toru leans down to whisper in your ear, “He’s lying; he’s worse than me.” Then, he thinks for a second. “You’re not a frequent party goer, are you? I would have definitely seen you around before if you were.”

“No,” you admit. “I’m not a party person. I just went last night because my friends insisted I go to at least one party this year, and after this, I don’t think I’ll be going to another one any time soon.”

Cuffs aside, the hangover you have is no joke and it’s enough to put you off partying forever. 

Toru petulantly whines. “No way! Don’t let this one weird experience give you a bad impression — my parties are legendary. You have to come again. I insist; I want to see you all drunk and stupid, and remember it.”

“Don’t peer pressure her,” Sato scolds before addressing you. “You should come over though. Party or no party. We’d definitely like to see you more. We can show you a good time.”

Their joint invite has your cheeks heating up. They just met you and they’ve already decided you were someone they’d want to hang out with again, and yeah, maybe they were just being nice, but it still had you all flustered. Especially because there seemed to be some hidden layer to the words ‘good time’; both of their eyes twinkled. 

Or maybe you imagined it.

On the way, about a thousand people stop to say hi to both Toru and Sato. The twins are clearly popular. 

It isn’t subtle, either. It’s not the polite nod-in-passing kind of recognition. People actually light up when they see them. Hands clap shoulders. Someone daps Toru up mid-stride. A girl across the quad calls Sato’s name flirtatiously. One even flashes both twins. Toru laughs. Even professors in suits, holding briefcases pause to exchange some words and inside jokes.

Toru grins wide and effortless, tossing out nicknames, bumping fists, slinging an arm around whoever gets close enough. Sato is smoother about it — a smaller smile, a tilt of his head, a few clever words that make people laugh just a second longer than necessary. 

No one even does more than glance at you. To their friends, you’re just another girl they’re in some dramatic predicament with. 

Between them, overshadowed by their popularity and fame, you feel out of your element. They’re definitely not the kind of people you could just casually befriend, not the kind of guys you would have ever spoken to, could have joined them casually for lunch, or schedule hang outs and know they’ll be there.

They’re just being polite to you, wanting to ease the discomfort of being cuffed to a complete stranger. 

Eventually, you reach the rink. You follow them inside, down hallways, past the people working there. You peek through the double doors and see a bunch of guys skating in full gear. It’s loud in the rink, the shape and emptiness of the stands reverberating the shouts and scrapes of skates on ice.

“Let’s go to the locker room whilst they’re there; we can go through his locker and his bag,” Sato suggests. 

The locker room?

Where men get changed and swing their dicks around?

Oh hell no.

“Wait— hold on.” You stop short so abruptly they nearly walk into you. Both of them turn, brows lifting in sync. You scramble for composure, heat creeping up your neck. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Toru squints. “Why not?”

Because I value my eyesight. Because I don’t need trauma today. Because I enjoy not being arrested.

You cross your arms, attempting dignity. “I can’t just walk into the men’s locker room.” They stare. You gesture vaguely, mortified. “I’m a girl?”

It comes out half question, half plea, like perhaps they’ve temporarily forgotten this extremely relevant detail.

Sato blinks. Toru looks down at you, then back at Sato.

“Oh,” Toru says slowly.

“Yes, oh,” you mutter.

The twins share a look.

Hands grip your wrists, dragging you inside despite your protests. They snicker together. You’re powerless against their strength, and you can’t even grip the doorway to pull yourself away because they’ve got control of your hands. Eyes shut tightly, you fumble in the dark, unable to resist their heavy, six foot tall bodies. 

Mustiness hits you as soon as the doors open, and you find your nose scrunching in disgust.  

One of them laughs. “No one’s here, Second Year. You’re good to open those pretty eyes.”

You swallow the nervous giggle down. Focus!

Eyes hesitantly open. 

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh and unforgiving, illuminating long wooden benches scarred with skate marks and initials carved onto the surface. Open cubbies gape, stuffed to the brim with shoulder pads the size of riot shields, sweat-darkened jerseys, laces tangled in knots, and rolls of white athletic tape unraveling on the floor.

The place’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

The air is thick — damp cotton, metal, cheap body spray failing miserably to mask the sour, unmistakable musk of hours spent skating in full gear. You’re careful not to touch anything unnecessary, lest you catch something.

“I’ll call his phone,” one of the twins says.

Ringing echoes through the empty locker room, bouncing against the metal benches and cubbies, and dirty towels and clothes haphazardly strewn around. God, men are disgusting. 

“Third row down,” the other twin mutters, following the sound.

Your Converse nearly land on a discarded compression shirt, and you jerk back like it might bite. You pass a rack of hockey sticks propped in the corner, tape chewed to shreds at the blades. A laundry bin overflows with damp towels. Someone’s half-empty protein shaker sits uncapped, abandoned, something beige and unidentifiable clinging to the sides.

“Found it,” the other twin says.

The phone vibrates inside an open locker wedged between a pair of shin guards and a crumpled practice jersey. His name is stitched above the number hanging on the hook — red fabric, white lettering, unmistakable.

You hover stiffly behind them, crossing your arms as though that will somehow shield you from the environment.

“See? No naked men swinging anything around,” Toru teases, swaying his hips at you.

“Shut up,” you groan, cheeks hot despite yourself. “This still feels wrong.”

Sato says, “You overthink too much.”

It’s not overthinking, you want to tell him. It’s the plain truth. The girls’ lockers are clean, tidy, and smell much nicer. Here, it feels humid, like you’ve strolled into Satan’s asshole. It’s fine for twins because they probably don’t know how good they could have it on the other side of things, and it’s not like anyone would bat an eye if the hockey team came back and they found them here.

Toru picks up a pair of boxers, making his brows dance at you, then throws it at his brother’s face.

He releases a disgusted sound, swiping it away. “Hilarious.”

They’re both looking. One in the locker, and the other in the bag he pulled out. As they do that, you ask Sato, “So you’re older?”

The twin with glasses nods. “By two minutes — best two minutes of my life.”

Toru says, “Ha. Ha. We both know the best two minutes of your life are when some poor girl lets you hit.”

“Better than your thirty second record.”

You laugh at their petty sibling rivalry. You admire how easily they could talk to each other, and to you, in spite of your situation, of how absurd this all is. It’s a thing to envy, you think. 

Pulling his head out of the musty locker, Toru looks down at you with a challenging smile. “You laughing at me, gorgeous? You think I can’t last longer than thirty seconds?”

Emboldened by the friendly atmosphere, you reply, “Proof’s in the pudding, isn’t it? If that’s your reputation, I’m sure there’s some truth to it.”

“Oh yeah?” He tugs, yanking you to his chest suddenly with the arm connected to yours. Hands steady your hips. Forcing your head to crane back to peer up at him, Toru grins down at you wolfishly, using his height advantage to intimidate you. “Care to let me prove you wrong?”

“I-I was just kidding,” you stammer out. “We need to focus and find the key.”

“I looked; couldn’t find it. Knowing how dedicated Sukuna is, he’s probably got it on him,” he responds, much more interested in something else now.

You gulp.

Heat covers your back. When fingers pinch your chin, keeping you from looking back, you realise the hands on your hips aren’t Toru’s. They’re Sato’s. 

They’ve got you sandwiched between them, leaving you with no place to go. Out of nowhere, the air has turned even more heated, almost suffocating. It renders you dizzy.

Sato whispers in your ear, lips grazing your ear, “Don’t be rude, Anthro. You told him ‘proof’s in the pudding,’ no? You gonna upset my baby brother by turning back on your words?”

The brother in question’s bending down slowly, teasing you by not quite touching your lips. Meanwhile, someone’s nose is running down the length of your neck, sending your hairs standing on edge. 

What the hell is happening?

Why are firm hands gripping you, lips brushing your skin, eyes watching your every move, hard bodies squeezing you till you’re panting? And why are you not stopping them? Why are you tingling between your legs?

Noises come from outside.

You all still.

They curse under their breath, scrambling off into the showers. 

At the furthest stall, you hide, eyes wide and a hand pressing down on your own over your mouth. Thunderous feet march in. A ruckus enters. The hockey team’s finished with their practice, and you could be caught at any second. Imagine the scandal if they found you between two guys.

Voices bounce off tile and metal lockers, loud and unfiltered.

“Bro, you call that a shot? My grandma could block that.”

“Shut up, you whiffed the puck twice.”

“Suck my balls, Rogers.”

“Gladly, Barnes.”

A bag hits the floor with a heavy thud. Lockers clang open in sharp succession. The sharp scent of sweat and ice drifts through the humid air.

“Who forgot to wash their jersey? It smells like death in here.”

“Pretty sure that’s just you.”

Laughter erupts — loud, careless, echoing. Someone yelps when a towel snaps against skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut as sneakers squeak across tile, as jerseys are peeled off and tossed aside, as the easy, post-practice chaos unfolds only a few feet away. They’re too close. Way too close.

Oh god, they’re all probably butt naked just metres away from you. 

How did things manage to go from bad to worse?

“Don’t make a sound,” Toru whispers, panicked. “The hockey guys cannot catch us here; they’re still mad from the time when we filled up their lockers with shaving cream and glitter, which they need to get over. It’s been days.”

“Pretty sure it’s because we’ve taken quite a few of their girlfriends,” Sato says under his breath. 

“It’s not even ‘taking’ when they seek us out. Like anyone would say no to puck bunny pussy.”

“You’re both fucking disgusting,” you hiss. They’re just as sleazy as any guy on campus, it’d seem. The only difference is that they hide behind their handsome faces. 

You’re leaning on Toru  as he presses himself tightly against the tiles, ducking down so they won’t spot his white hair from above the stall, all while Sato’s leaning on you, pushing in so his back won’t protrude. 

Packed like sardines, you’re aware of their hard muscles, of their much bigger sizes, and the ridges of their abs. The frat president can probably feel your tits on him, whilst the Engineering student can feel your ass on his crotch. Something hard pokes your stomach at the same time as something equally hard and hot slot right in between your ass cheeks again.

Lord, take me now, you pray, desperate for relief from the humiliation.

A leg slots between yours. You gasp. It’s Toru’s, but one look at his face and anyone would think you’re just imagining it. Don’t move, you tell yourself. Do not start riding his thigh even if you want to.

Sato pushes his hips forward, and consequently yours. You gasp. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice husky in your ear. “Got an itch you wanna scratch?”

Toru flexes his thigh, bumping hard against your clothed slit. You bite back your moan, wholly aware of the boyish laughter and shouting on the other side. He says, “If you gotta scratch, you gotta scratch, right?” 

They definitely know what they’re doing. Manwhores like them always know.

Laying it on thicker, the frat president whispers, “Don’t hesitate; use me. Go on, Second year. Make my day.”

The twins are urging you to ride his thigh, pushing and pulling. Neither of them care about getting caught, not really. You had initially thought Toru would be the biggest danger, what with his outgoing and flirtatious personality, but Sato’s just as bad as him; he’s guiding your hips with his own, hand sliding up your leg to creep under your skirt.

They’re twins from hell. 

Someone flicks your nipples through your shirt. You slump back onto Sato’s chest, breathing heavily as your hips grind on a muscular thigh. 

How did things come to this?

And why are you getting swept up in all of it?

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she, Sato?” 

“Stunning,” he replies. His hand tugs you down, making sure you’re grinding real good on his brother’s thigh. “How does her pussy feel?”

“Warm, and getting wetter. Fuck, it’d be so much better if she wasn’t wearing panties.” He directs his words to you, muttering, “How about it, angel? Gonna let me feel your pussy?”

“There’s people,” you gasp out, growing closer and closer to your end. This is so degrading — they’re watching you ride his thigh all on your own, watching you thrust your chest out, and squirm between them like some whore.

One of them smirks. “So if there weren’t people, you’d readily give me access? Dirty girl. Isn’t she dirty, Sato?”

“Downright filthy.”

When you shudder, someone slaps a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your moan. Oh fuck you’re cumming on Toru’s thigh, a man you only met this morning, riding the muscle like it’s your pillow. Tomorrow, when you’re hopefully free and no longer attached to them, you’re totally going to want to never see them again.

Finally, you flop, twitching with the final waves of your orgasm. 

Your head’s patted. “Well done. You were very brave.”

You smack it away, and grouch, “That was underhanded, you guys.”

“You enjoyed it, Anthro,” Sato points out, and steps back, steadying you. He peers over, and nods. “Coast’s clear. But that means Sukuna’s gone.”

Simultaneously, your eyes land on the wet spot you left behind on Toru’s jeans. He presses down on it, then sucks the pads of his fingers, winking at you. You look away immediately, wanting to cringe at yourself. Voice shaky, whether from stress or from your orgasm, you wonder, “So what are we gonna do now?”

“We’ll have to ask around for where he’ll be,” Sato replies. “Lay it on him good and intimidate him into giving up this stupid prank of his.”

Frowning, you follow them out of the locker room, adjusting your skirt. “Can’t we just go straight to the fire station? Do we have to go on this wild goose chase?”

Toru fake pouts, and puts a hand over his heart. “You tired of us, little lady? Hate us already? Oh, we’re just terrible, aren’t we, Sato?”

“The worst.”

“No, no,” you hurriedly deny. “It’s not that. You guys are great.”

He beams, stringing his arm over yours and forcing yours to hang loosely from your shoulder.

“Then it’s decided — we’re chasing after our Sukuna goose!”

And once again, you’re left with no choice but to do as they say.

.

.

.

After texting some mutual friends for where Sukuna might be, the three of you wind up at his apartment building. The twins have been trying to get ahold of the man, to no avail. It seems he’s intent on forcing all of you to ride out his cruel prank. 

You texted your friends, trying to find out what exactly happened last night that might make this Sukuna person hate you enough to do this. You’re just some random girl, why would you be involved in the beef of some pretty well known guys?

They told you that they didn’t see you much at all during the party, that some time after arriving together, you disappeared and was only seen here and there, dancing and having a pretty good time with — and this is the really surprising part — both the twins, at different times. 

Videos and pictures were shared to you: you’d be in the background, always with a drink in your hand, smiling like you’ve never smiled before, and flanked by one of the twins almost all the time. The videos seem to be earlier in the night. No cuffs in sight. There’s definitely videos from later in the night, but the people who took them haven’t woken up yet.

“So we were hanging out a lot last night, huh?”

Sato makes a face that says, guess so, whilst Toru whistles an impressed tune. The latter jokingly says, “We’re meant to be, Second year.”

“Seven of the eleven pictures were of me and her,” his twin points out. 

“So? That’s just a one picture difference!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Her ass on my dick helped me sleep last night,” Toru fires back, clutching your hand and bringing it up to his face so he can lay a kiss on your knuckles with a wink. 

Sato yanks you towards him, and you stumble his way in the narrow hallway. He licks the palm of your hand, one upping his brother. 

Face burning, you shove both of them back. “Can you guys stop? We need to work out what happened last night — how did we all get so drunk that we don’t remember how we ended up cuffed and in bed together?” Then, you frown. “We…we didn’t sleep together, did we?”

That was actually a question you’ve had since this morning, but you’d shrugged it off as being an impossibility. There’s no way two hot twins would want you, nevermind share a woman. However, after that little stunt in the locker room, you’re starting to wonder.

The frat twin laughs. “That’s cute. Isn’t she cute, Sato?”

“Adorable.”

They’re both laughing at you, and it’s irritating. Aggrieved, you ask, “What’s so funny? I don’t think it’s a ridiculous question to ask considering we woke up in the same bed with no memory of last night.”

Toru lifts his arm, and yours, rustling your hair with your own hand. “Babe, if you slept with me, you’d never forget. Trust.”

“Your mind could forget, sure, but your pussy wouldn’t; she’d still be feeling with me,” Sato says, matter-of-factly. His bright, all-seeing eyes flit down to the apex of your thighs as you walk, and you have to resist the urge to squeeze them together. 

Damn.

“Hey, we’re here — 666.” He snickers to himself, thoroughly amused. Toru nudges you. “Fitting, amirite?”

Before he could knock on, you stop him. “What are we gonna do if he’s in? Are you guys going to fight him?”

Sato drawls, “You watch too many movies, Anthro; we’re just going to ask him to give us the key. Sukuna’s an asshole but he’s not the kind to drag a joke on.”

“Yeah, he probably just forgot in the first place,” his twin added. 

“Oh.”

That makes sense. There’s no need to get violent. The prank’s not that harmful, you suppose.

They knock. You wait. No one answers.

“Is he not in?”

Toru tries the doorknob. The door opens. You all share a look. That feels pretty fucking ominous, like a trap laid out for you. “We’re not going in, are we?” you ask, looking up and down the hallway in case someone catches you three trespassing, or is it breaking and entering?

Whatever it is, it’s going to end you up in prison.

Lips graze the shell of your ear as someone whispers, “Scared of entering the devil’s domain with us? Think we’re going to eat you up? Hmm?”

“If you behave, we will,” someone else rasps at the back of your neck. 

“Stop fucking around,” you reply, flustered by the tingles erupting where they touched you. 

A hand presses in at the small of your back, and as the door’s opened, one of them chirps, “In you go, angel!”

You stumble inside, held up from falling only by the dense weight of two men chuckling at the little yelp you release. 

The door clicks shut behind you.

For a second, you all just stand there.

Sukuna’s apartment is…exactly what you’d expect, and simultaneously worse — just aggressively, unapologetically male.

A pair of hockey skates sits abandoned by the entrance, laces trailing like shed snakeskin. A duffel bag, half unzipped, spills tape rolls, spare socks, and a mouthguard case onto the hardwood floor. The faint smell of detergent battles unsuccessfully with sweat and something woodsy, his cologne, probably, clinging to the air.

The living room is small but decent — a worn leather couch with a throw blanket tossed carelessly over one arm, a low coffee table cluttered with protein bars, a TV remote, a half-empty Gatorade bottle, and a stack of lecture notes weighed down by a puck. His backpack is slumped against the couch, as though it gave up halfway through being put away.

On one wall: framed team photos. A hockey stick mounted horizontally. A couple of medals draped over the corner of the frame, like it hardly matters to him.

The kitchen is visible from where you stand. Open plan. Dishes in the sink. Not stacked to the ceiling, but definitely past ‘I’ll wash them later’ territory. A frying pan left out on the stove. A carton of eggs on the counter. A magnetic whiteboard on the fridge with scribbled practice times and what looks like a grocery list that just says: milk, rice, jerk off 3:37pm.

Weirdly specific, but okay.

You all step further in, handcuffs clinking obnoxiously between you. The fuzz tinkles your wrist every time one of them moves too abruptly, and it’s soothed by the brushing of knuckles and the rubbing of shapes by thumbs.

“Maybe he left the key here,” one twin says, scanning. “Let’s have a look around.”

As a unit, the three of you shuffle around. Drawers are opened. Closed. A quick glance under couch cushions. You check the kitchen counter with your free hand, careful not to knock over the precarious tower of mail.

The apartment is messy but lived-in. No mysterious stains. No broken furniture. Just a college athlete who does not evidently prioritise tidiness. 

Then—

Voices. From the hallway. Muffled at first: “…you said you were done with her—”

The three of you freeze.

“And I am,” comes the unmistakable low, irritated drawl.

“Oh really? Explain to me why I found her panties in your car!”

“They’re yours.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t wear blue thongs. I only wear white.”

“Ain’t nothing white and pure about you.”

“Fuck you!”

Your stomach drops.

It sounds like a lovers’ quarrel. You don’t know this Sukuna very well, or at all, but you’re one hundred percent sure he would not be fine seeing you guys in his place when he’s fighting with his girlfriend. 

Keys jangle outside.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

“Closet,” Sato hisses.

You don’t argue.

They yank you down the short hallway toward what you assume is the bedroom. The space is larger than you expect — unmade bed, sheets twisted, a jersey tossed over the desk chair. His cologne bottle sits uncapped near the nightstand. A lamp. A stack of textbooks. A charging cable trailing off the mattress like something that gave up halfway. But there’s no time to be psychoanalysing this man’s bedroom.

The front door opens.

“You said that last time!” the woman snaps, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

You’re shoved toward the sliding closet door. It opens with a soft scrape. Inside: hanging shirts, mostly dark. Hoodies. A winter coat. Shoe boxes stacked on one side. A laundry basket half-full.

“All of us?” you hiss.

“Got a better idea?”

The door slides shut just as footsteps enter the bedroom.

You’re crushed instantly. Back against the wall. Toru in front of you. Sato practically plastered behind. The handcuffs force you closer than is remotely comfortable. Someone’s arm is wedged between your ribs and a stack of shoeboxes. A coat hanger digs into your shoulder. How are you back in this position again? 

Outside, the argument spills into the room.

“I’m not doing this,” Sukuna says flatly.

“You never do anything! You just— god, you’re impossible!”

A thud. Maybe something dropped on the bed. You hold your breath. Another thud. The mattress creaks. No, please don’t, you beg. 

“You knew what this was,” he says, voice colder now.

“And what is it?” she demands.

Silence stretches. You can feel Toru’s heartbeat through his chest where you’re practically pressed against him. Or maybe it’s yours. The handcuffs shift as someone adjusts their balance. The metal clinks. Loud.

All four of you freeze again.

“…what was that?” the woman asks.

You don’t breathe. Not a single one of you moves.

Sukuna’s footsteps approach. The closet door handle rattles lightly as if tested. Your heart actually stops. Like medically dead stops. Then—

A scoff.

“Probably the pipes,” he mutters dismissively. Footsteps retreat. The argument resumes, lower now. Tense. 

Inside the closet, you’re still crammed together like contraband. One twin’s breath ghosts across your temple. “If you make another sound,” he whispers so quietly it barely exists, “I’m framing you as the girl with the blue thong.”

You would elbow him if you had the space. It wasn’t even you!

Instead, you stay very, very still.

Their masculine scents engulf you. One of them smells like tacky aftershave done right, somehow, and the other is clean laundry. Both are intoxicating, as is the heat they exude which has you flushing in the cramped space. 

It’s tight and cramped here. You barely have room to breathe, barely have room for your lungs to expand. And you’re pretty sure you’re standing on someone’s foot, though no one complains. As slowly and carefully as you can, you adjust yourself, grimacing at the tightness and darkness in the closet.

“Stop squirming,” Toru pleads. When you glance at him, he’s staring up, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“What?” 

Sato whispers in your ear, “You’re making him pop a boner. Me too. Nobody tell you it’s rude to get a guy hard and not do something about it?”

“They’re right outside,” you whisper back. “Even if I wanted to, we couldn’t do anything.”

A thumb flicks your nipple. Your moan is stifled by a hand to your mouth. Toru says, and in the darkness of the closet you can hear his grin, “Oh, but you want to, don’t you. You want to so bad. I bet feeling us up like this, knowing you can get caught, is making your little kitty purr.”

“Little kitty? Seriously?”

“Shut up, Sato. Maybe if you said it more, you’d get laid as often as I do.”

“I get laid plenty, asshole.”

“Shut up both of you,” you fire back at the two of them, ear craning to hear what’s happening outside.  There’s no more arguing, which is a good sign, but there’s definitely signs of life, which isn’t a good sign; they’re still here. You can hear talking, hushed and intimate, as well as rhythmic creaking. 

Oh no. 

“Damn,” Toru says under his breath. “Ryomen’s fucking his girl. Guess I’ll finally be able to settle my bed with Fushiguro — does the psycho last longer than thirty seconds? Any takers?”

No one replies to him.

Through your breathing, you can’t help but listen to the sounds of moaning and groaning. There’s even some slapping involved, and a couple, ‘you like that?’, ‘you’re making a mess all over my cock, you little slut,’ and ‘picking a fight just to cum, you ain’t slick.’

That Sukuna guy is an aggressive one. 

“Is it weird to say, given our situation, that I think it’s nice that they’re so in love and can easily resolve their problems?” you say, as quietly as you can.

Both twins snort.

“They ain’t in love, Second year. They’re just horny and toxic, which makes for a great combo. And if I recognise the voice right, then that’s Cassie. She’s a mess, no offence to her. She likes stealing her friend’s man. Great tits though.”

“She’s just another girl in his roster; Sukuna doesn’t date. Not unless pigs are airborn.”

“Oh.”

The three of you are breathing heavily, constantly brushing up against each other. Toru’s shirt is scraping your hardened nipples through your shirt. Your ass is grinding behind you. Hands are gripping your hips under your skirt as another set sneaks under your top, clutching your waist and climbing higher and higher till it’s just about grazing the underside of your tits.

Is it the uninhibited moaning outside?

Or the masculine scent you’re enveloped in?

What’s got you so hot and bothered, squirming between them, whining to be touched?

A hand grips your hip, pulling you back. A hot thing hangs heavy behind you. Your breath hitches. Meanwhile, lips press to your temple, then to your cheek, and finally your lips. 

Toru doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He first whispers, “Been wanting to do this since this morning.” Then he kisses you. It’s sweet, soft, and gentle. It gives you butterflies. A metallic thing scrapes your bottom lip, and when you gasp, he’s quick to explain, “Just my tongue piercing, babe. You’ll get used to it. Soon’ll be getting to feel it against your clit, trust.”

Something long and hard slides itself between your thighs. You stiffen. 

“What? Did you think I was gonna let my brother have all the fun?” Sato’s hands are gripping your bare hips, pulling you back and forth on his cock, which he ruts right up against your panties, cockhead prodding your clothed clit.

Panicking a little, you voice out, “What if they hear us?”

“You don’t want to be caught, Anthro? You better keep quiet then.”

One of them grope your tits, tweaking the hardened buds through your shirt, carrying your hand with his. You twitch with every flick, every scratch of a nail, and every pinch. Toru swallows your moans, greedily gulping them down. You really are getting used to the tongue piercing; it’s an addictive sensation against your own tongue. 

The heat between your legs is almost scalding, and the way it separates your pussy lips, greeting your throbbing clit on its way forward, has your hips working back in tandem. 

“Good girl,” one of them mutters.

The veins on the cock are felt by your sensitive skin. God, he’s big. Like really big. Would Toru be big too? Could you take any of their cocks? Both of them? Is that too filthy to think about?

Outside, a feminine voice calls out, “Ngh! Sukuna, right there! Harder, baby, please!”

“Don’t call me baby, you whore. Just take my cock and be quiet.”

You won’t admit it to anyone, but the sounds of skin slapping, headboard banging, and wanton screaming are getting to you. They’re setting the mood, and you’re growing less and less ashamed of the fact that you’re being thighfucked by one of the Gojo twins as the other shoves his tongue down your throat and squeezes your tits. 

This is even filthier than in the locker room. More lewd. Obscene. 

You’re rubbing yourself all over twins in a closet, hiding, and trespassing whilst the owner of the place is fucking his girl, and they don’t have a clue. If this is how parties end, then you might be inclined to attend another one of theirs.

“S-sato,” you whimper to his brother’s lips, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck, me too.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Full body shudders wrack you. You clutch Toru’s stupid t-shirt, hips stuttering, and juices soaking your panties. Thighs tightening in pulses with the strain of your muscles, you wring groans from Sato right into your ear. 

“Shit, don’t cum all over me,” Toru hastily says, before picking up a random shirt off the hanger and shoving it between your legs just in time as Sato’s cock pulses in waves. “Ugh, that’s disgusting.”

“Thanks,” his twin mumbles, lifting your hand to his face. You fix his glasses for him, pushing it back up his nose bridge. 

“Where are you going now?” the girl asks, voice slightly muted by the barriers between you and her.

Bed creaking before feet pad on the floor, Sukuna answers, “Gotta stop by the ADP.” Silence. “Alpha Delta Phi? Gojo’s frat? Jesus, do you know anything other than how to bounce on cock? Forget it. I just need to go pick something up. Let yourself out whenever, but don’t be back here tonight. I’m having the boys over.”

“Oh, please, we both know that’s just code for having your other girl over.”

“Well if you know, then why bother playing coy about it. Yeah, I’m fucking other women, just like you’re fucking other guys. I don’t care and neither should you. Take a shower, nap, or whatever the fuck you want. Just don’t be here when I get back.”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did, sweetheart.”

Feet pad away and full silence returns to the room. In the distance, a door shuts. You all breathe out a sigh of relief, shoulders dropping. 

“What an asshole,” you say, pushing the closet door open for fresh air. 

“Told you,” the twins say in unison. 

The bed’s been left a mess, with a huge wet patch at the centre that you don’t want to focus too much on. Sato’s tucked himself back in his jeans expertly, and you’d think he’d never taken anything out in the first place. 

“Oi, Sato, lift her up for me.”

Sighing, the guy grumbles before lifting you by the back of your thighs. You fall back on his chest, head resting on his shoulder. Legs wide open, Toru kneels between them, grinning up at you. He winks, poking the wet spot you’ve made in your panties. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask, startled.

Toru shrugs, pulling your panties aside. He takes a deep inhale, nose skimming and coming back all glossy. “Just wondering what you taste like that. You both got to cum, so it’s only fair I get a little something too, no?”

“It’s logical. Practically a faultless argument,” Sato concurs, leaving a kiss on your heated cheeks to reassure you. “Don’t worry; he won’t bite.” A little hushed and more mischievous, he adds, “Not like me.”

Naturally, that does nothing to wash away the embarrassment of his twin being face to face with your puffy pussy. 

His smooth hands soothe the tremor in your thighs. “Just a taste, gorgeous. To tide me over till we make it back to the frat house to catch Sukuna. Besides, I want you to get comfortable with my tongue piercing.” 

He pecks your clit, then takes a longer lick of your pussy. You gasp, hands kept down by your sides by their own and unable to push him away. Toru is as unashamed as ever, shoving his whole face in your cunt and forcing squelches out when he tongues your entrance. 

“W-we’re going back to the -ngh!- frat house?”

Sato hums, seemingly unbothered by any of what’s going on. It might as well be any other Saturday. “We have to catch him there; I don’t want to spend the rest of my day chasing after him, when I could be buried inside your pussy.”

SLURRRRRP!

You cry out, toes curling. 

“So sweet,” the twin down there moans. “You gotta taste her, Sato.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot,” he scolds. “And hurry up.”

“Quit telling me what to do — I like taking my time with good pussy, sorry.”

“Toru!”

Cooing, he mutters an apology to your cunt. “Aw, sorry, babe. Don’t mean to neglect you. Don’t worry, Toru’s here. Toru’s gonna make you feel so good, better than my brother’s tiny ass dick, I promise.”

Said brother scoffs. 

But you don’t care about their unnecessary competition. You can only focus on the jolts of electricity zooming from your pussy and exploding in your belly. You’ve never been eaten out so good, and not with a piercing you’re painfully aware rubbing just right through your puffy folds. It rolls against your clit. You moan.

“Feel good?” Toru asks, all smug. “Got the idea from our piercer friend. It’s a real hit with the ladies.”

You frown. “It’s impolite to talk about -hah fuck that’s good- o-other women when you’re between someone’s legs.”

Sato kisses your cheek again, and approvingly inserts, “Put him in his place, baby. Been trying to teach him manners since we were born and he never listens to me. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Quit talking about me like I’m some kind of dog,” Toru grumbles.

“Then quit acting like it,” you bravely snap, possessed by the desperate need to chase another high. “Make me cum already, before I ask your brother to do it instead.”

Another kiss, this time punctuated by a chuckle. “

“Kitty’s got claws. That’s fucking hot.”

Lips wrap around your clit, which is still sensitive from the incessant rubbing of Sato’s cock. That’s why when he finally sucks hard on the little thing, you cum again way too quickly. “Fuck, Toru!”

“Mm, that’s right, baby, ride my face and my tongue.”

Through your writhing and squirming, Sato holds you up, bearing your weight with ease, all while Toru laps up the juices oozing out of your pussy, like a puppy, like a man in a dessert. 

That’s three orgasms all in less than an hour. It’s a new record for you, which means your body isn’t used to it. On shaky legs, you’re set down. They hold you up, preventing you from collapsing on the floor. 

One of them ruffles your hair. “You did such a great job, Second year. We’re almost at the finish line, think you can manage a slight jog back to the frat house?”

How are they so chill? How can they act like nothing happened? There’s not even a single wrinkle on their shirts, whereas you look and feel like a mess. 

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, dazed and still experiencing waves of an orgasm that wasn’t supposed to happen so suddenly. 

Sato nods, pulling your panties back into place and patting your pussy. “We know a shortcut — it’ll give us at least fifteen minutes ahead of Sukuna. More if he gets distracted and walks slowly.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

.

.

.

“Oh my god…” you breathe out, staring at your phone. “I was dancing on a table?”

More videos and pictures are surfacing online now that the partygoers are waking up and getting over their splitting headache. And damn it, you wish they hadn’t.

Leaning over, Toru whistles. “That’s fucking hot. It reminds me of when my frat brothers hired strippers for my birthday, except your dancing is so much better.”

You elbow the little kiss up. “We both know that’s a lie. I’m dancing like a drugged up chimpanzee.”

“Like an unstable gas, just shaking about the place,” Sato adds. When Toru and you give him a look, a blush graces his cheeks. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. “So he can talk about strippers but I can’t mention anything related to the periodic table?”

That was a slip of his cocky façade, and it brings a smile to your lips.

He rolls his eyes at your look of adoration. Glancing at the screen, he says, “We didn’t have the cuffs then, and that was probably about midnight. Our parties typically end at 3 am, with some people lingering even later. So between then and 3am, Sukuna had slipped cuffs on us.”

“Do you think he drugged us too?” you wonder, speedwalking along the back of a building you’ve never visited on campus. “I mean, I’m just not the type to get black out drunk.”

It’s awful to suggest Sukuna, a man you’ve never met before, would be the type to spike peoples’ drinks, but it would certainly explain things. 

Toru shakes his head, running a hand through his messy hair. “I wouldn’t put it past him to slip us something that makes us more susceptible to doing stupid shit. Though, honestly, looking at how I’m twerking on my pledge, Itadori, I don’t think I needed anything more to get black out.”

“That’s just how you are naturally,” his twin snarks. 

To that, the frat guy laughs in disbelief. “You’re one to talk considering we have five videos of you writing equations on the entirety of the basketball team’s backs and yapping their ears off about Digimon, which you only do after the eleventh shot. Shots, mind you, you hate but never pass down.”

“Only ‘cause I need alcohol to survive your stupid parties,” Sato fires back. 

“Parties you enjoy!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, boys. Let’s just agree we all got messy on our own,” you establish, feeling like the two are way too close to tearing each other apart.

When you reach the frat house, Sato opens the door for you. Does no one lock their doors on campus?

You didn’t notice it in your rush to get out of the house earlier, how big and beautiful the house is. It’s old, ornately decorated with impeccable wooden floors and portraits hanging on walls. Of course, there are thongs, bras, streamers, limp balloons, used condoms strung all over the place, and there’s empty cans of beer and bottles of alcohol just lying about. But beneath all of the grime of a party done well lies a gorgeous home. 

Cleaners flit about the place, collecting trash and mopping floors. 

“Perk of living in a frat,” Toru proudly declares, “we never have to clean up after ourselves.”

“That is pretty cool,” you agree. 

Sato huffs. “It’s insanely privileged. And intrusive. I much prefer not having strangers constantly leaving their traces in my home.”

The three of you gracefully ascend the stairs, avoiding mysterious wet puddles and stains you didn’t want to think too much about. Sukuna doesn’t seem to be here, so they were right about the shortcut.

“So you live on your own?” you ask him, nodding a thank you to Toru who carries you over a stack of bottles. 

“Yeah, but we’re over at each other’s places so often we might as well not be.”

You giggle. “That’s so cute. You two just need to be together all the time, huh?”

Toru punches his brother’s arm over your head. “She’s laughing at us, Sato. She thinks we’re pathetic and psychotically close.”

“I promise, it’s only circumstance that keeps bringing us together,” Sato dryly says. “If I had it my way, I’d have said good riddance to him a long time ago.”

“My sentiment exactly — pretty sure I tried to eat you in the womb and that’s why you’re so ugly.”

A laugh escapes you.

Eventually, you reach their bedroom. 

Right back where you started.

Smiling, you say, “It’s funny that we did all that work just to end up back here because Sukuna was always coming by, isn’t it? Quite ironic actually.”

The door shuts behind you. 

“Look, Toru,” a dark voice coos, “she doesn’t know she’s about to be fucked an inch of her life.”

“I know,” an equally dark voice agrees. “I can’t get over how stinkin’ cute she is. Makes me wanna just eat her out till she faints. Think she’ll let me?”

“I think she’s been soaked the whole day and at this point she’ll let us do anything we want…isn’t that right, Anthro?”

The hairs on your arms stand on edge. Two foreboding presences flank you, reminding you that there’s no where you can go that they won’t follow, that you’re stuck with them for good, and that you couldn’t hope to fight them off even if you wanted to. Your panties might as well not be there by how your wetness is trickling down your thighs.

They drag you down onto the bed with them. 

Hands make quick work of your clothes: they pull down your skirt, taking your panties with them, they yank your shoes and socks off, and one of them even grabs scissors to cut right through the shirt before you can say anything. The metal grazes your skin, slicing right between your tits. 

“Wait, wait,” you yell, overwhelmed by the suddenness of their actions. “Sukuna! Sukuna’s coming.”

Sato says, “Not for twenty minutes — one of my friends said they saw him stop by the Student Council office.”

“Probably going to bother the Prez,” Toru snickers, pressing your panties to his nose and moaning. “Fuck, I love the way your pussy smells. The dirtier the better.”

Heat rises to your cheeks immediately, and you fall back onto Sato’s lap. He licks a stripe up your neck. “My brother’s got weird tastes. Forgive him, angel. He’s just born weird. I like to say I took all the brains in the womb.”

Toru snorts, throwing aside all your shredded clothes. “Sure, let’s pretend I haven’t had chicks crying to me about how you’re so mean to them, asking for me to be the nice twin.” 

The three of you kneel on the bed together, cuffs clinking when they clash, the pink fluff tickling skin. They’re both still dressed. You feel Sato’s jeans scratching your skin, the metal zip rubbing right up against your pussy, and Toru’s silly ‘Best Seats’ shirt grazing your nose as he towers over you. 

He brings up the hem, biting it, revealing washboard abs. You blink at it.

He says, “Lick it, Second year. Go on.” Hesitating, you run your tongue over his torso, starting from the white treasure trail, over his outie belly button, then his abs, and his chest. Of course he knows he has an impressive body. It’s important he knows you know that too; it’s an ego boost for him. “Such a good girl,” he coos. “I’ll be sure to fuck you real good as a reward.”

“Not until I’m done,” Sato argues. “I’m older so I get first dibs.”

His long fingers are parting your pussy lips, grinding his zipper up and bumping it against your clit. The texture’s weird, and wild, and it has you heaving, no doubt leaving behind your slick all over the metal teeth. 

Gripping your face with his free hand, Sato kisses you for the first time. He’s got your neck twisted back, the wetness of your pussy smearing on your skin. There’s no piercing, only a minty taste that you’re obsessed with. It’s messier, filthier, all tongue and spit, so different from how his brother kisses. 

You’re dragged back, and lips quickly replace Sato’s. That familiar piercing returns. You’re stolen back again. Then again. And again. They’re fighting over who gets to kiss you. You’re dizzy, breathless, creaming for more.

“Quit taking her,” Toru growls. 

“Fuck off,” Sato snarls. “Just sit there and look away. Three’s a crowd.”

“It’s not fair. You’re already getting to fuck her pussy first.”

“Oh? You’re so easy to give up?” He whispers in your ear, all smug, “My brother’s a pushover. Bet it turns you way off, doesn’t it? It’s alright, angel, you can tell him to back off. It’ll just be you and me, won’t that be nice?”

Fingers coat themselves in your pussy juice, rubbing your clit nice and good before pushing inside your pulsing hole. “No, babe, tell the nerd he can fuck off and go research where the clit even is. I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk away from my bed even when the cuffs are off.”

Neither of them will actually give up, no matter what you say, you know that. So you say, “Both of you. I want to be fucked by both of you. Please!”

“She’s so polite. Isn’t she polite, Sato?”

“Perfectly so.”

If someone had told you you’d be shared by twins in a frat house, you’d have called the police for harassment. Now, as you’ve said those words and they sigh and begrudgingly agree to allow the other to be here, you think this was inevitable.

Toru creeps back, working on his zip and freeing his hard cock. A hand shoves your face forward. If it isn’t for Sato holding you up, you’d be face planting into the sheets. 

“A-are you sure Sukuna won’t catch us?”

Fingers push in, scissoring your cunt and prepping your walls. They cruelly curl up against your g-spot. “You think she’s trying to piss us off by mentioning another man’s name, Toru?”

“I think it doesn’t matter — she’s gonna forget there’s anyone else outside these walls when I’m through with her.”

Right in front of you, Toru strokes his dick. It’s pale, flushed red at the tip and already leaking. He’s trimmed neatly. There’s even a tattoo on his hip that says ‘Lucky You ;)’

Your mouth waters. 

The salty pre is smeared on your lips. He taps it, once, then twice. “Say ahh, babe.”

Behind you, something pokes your pussy. It slides between your thighs again, spreading your juices on your skin. It enters you, inch by inch, slowly, making you feel every bit of him.

At the same time, Toru’s cock pushes through, filling your mouth. Both ends have to stretch wide to accommodate them. Already, you’re overwhelmed, overstimulated, over the fucking moon at being used so lewdly. Your friends are never going to believe how you spent your Saturday, and your future kids will never know just how wild their mother got back in college.

Soon, they bottom out, and it’s a miracle you’ve been able to take both of them at the same time. 

“Damn, what a talented fucking mouth,” Toru breathes out, head thrown back. “A star for you, Second year.”

“You should feel her pussy,” Sato grits out, fingers digging into the plush of your ass with the strain of resisting the urge to thrust over and over again in your cunt. “It’s the tightest thing ever.”

His brother groans. “Shut the fuck up, dude. I can’t stand hearing your voice. Respectfully. You’re ruining this for me.”

“Grow up.”

In tandem, they rut back and forth, starting off in small bursts first to let you get used to it, then steadily growing faster and faster. You’re basically being used as as fleshlight, fucked in the way they want, with little regard for how uncomfortably stretched out and twisted you are. And it feels amazing.

But…

Why does Sato’s cock feel so different?

Your cunt clenches down on it. He grunts, then chuckles. “You’re wondering what’s on my dick, aren’t you? It’s a piercing baby. Thought only Toru has one? Didn’t expect it from me, did you? You feel it scraping your walls? Feel me deep inside your perfect pussy?” 

And you can. You can feel exactly where he is, how deep he’s in, how satisfied your gummy walls are to feel something so big stretching you out, like a feeding a sacrifice to a hungry god.

You moan around Toru’s dick. He grunts. “Fuck, babe! You’re gonna make me cum early.”

“Pathetic,” Sato mutters.  A cold wetness lands with a thwack right on your puckering hole. You jerk. “Relax. Just trust me.” A thumb circles the hole, pushing in only knuckle deep yet it’s more than enough to have you feeling insanely full. “If we had more time, then I’d prep this tight hole to take me. This’ll have to do.”

Sato’s an ass guy?

Are you?

It’s never occurred to you to play in that other hole, though as he hooks his thumb in, you start to think you’ve been missing out this entire time. Toru, on the other hand, is obsessed with your tits. He keeps groping them, flicking the buds so you’ll moan even more around his cock.

Balls are swinging, bumping against your chin and on your clit. The bed squeaks and creaks with the force of their ploughing, headboard slamming against the wall. You wonder if the other frat guys can hear, if they know you’re a slut squirting around a cock as you get rammed by their frat president and his twin brother. It must be a normal occurrence with how whorish they both are.

Your tongue swirls around the unpierced cockhead in your mouth, licking the salty slit. The guy in front of you curses, still biting the hem of his shirt. You can see his abs constricting, the muscles under his tattoo twitching. . 

Sato breathily chuckles. “My little brother’s gonna tap out soon, and I’ll have you all to myself.”

Toru pushes back in immediately, not wasting even a single second. You have to breathe through your nose, the walls of your throat squeezing around the hefty intrusion. Whereas Sato’s long, Toru’s thicker — the difference is minute, yet you can tell. 

Feeling challenged, Toru scoffs. He taps your cheek. “Tell him he can spank you. Go on.” He pulls out.

You cough, throat hoarse already. “Spank me, Sato. It’s okay, I can take it.”

SMACK!

You scream around Toru’s dick. His hips jerk forward with a groan. The fucker didn’t waste a single second!

“So fucking tight!” He slaps your cheek again, hitting exactly where he had the first time. You moan, pussy pulsing. “You like that? Well, aren’t you a dirty thing.”

It’s a turn-on for Sato, you understand now. It flipped a switch in him, seeing the mark of his hand blooming on your ass; his hips are thrusting harder, hitting that gummy spot inside you that has you seeing stars and flooding down his cock, which practically rams you mercilessly.

The strength of his thrusting forces your throat to take Toru even deeper, a fact that the frat guy rejoices in as he holds you up by a hand on your tit, groping like he had before. The cockhead’s bumping the back of your throat, no doubt bruising you.

You cum, shuddering, but neither of them seem to care. They only notice the throbbing and rhythmic squeezing of your cunt and throat, groaning and grunting above you. 

“Poor nerd,” Toru snickers. “He’s gonna cum so quickly. It’s sad, isn’t it? It’s nice that you’re so charitable, babe.”

“Big talk for a masochist.” The older twin rubs your clit, occasionally pinching the thing just to feel you tighten around him. Darkly, he orders, “Dig your nails into his thigh. All the girls know he’s weak for pain. He even calls the older ones mommy. Sad, isn’t it? Disturbed, even.”

Panicked, he tries to grab your hand before it can grip his thigh through his jeans. But it’s too late. You’re faster. You dig your nails in as hard as you can so he’ll feel it through the material. He whimpers, hips stuttering. “Jesus FUCK!”

Hot cum spurts in your throat. You gag on the salty taste. Tears spring to your eyes.

Sato laughs, yanking you up by the air. Toru’s cock slides out with a pop!

Back flat on his chest, he holds you up with a hand around your throat. It presses in slightly, slowly stopping airflow to your head in intervals, holding enough to make you delirious. 

Aggrieved and peeved off for being forced to cum early by a cheap trick, Toru poutily kisses your lips, running that tongue piercing over the seam. He pushes a hand against your belly. You whine, feeling even more of Sato this way. “Let’s see how long either of you lasts like this, cheaters.”

“Fuck off—Christ! Shit!”

It only takes a mere second. It’s more embarrassing than Toru’s premature ejaculation.

At the sudden and impossible tightness, the older twin curses under his breath. White paints your walls. The heat is searing and it pushes you over the edge too. 

Quickly, you’re pulled off his dick, which is still spurting. Some cum gets on your face when you’re brought to your back on the bed. They’re manhanding you, positioning you like you’re a ragdoll, like you’re a mere toy for their pleasure. It’s hard to tell where up and down are, left and right, if it’s even the same day.

A cock pushes in, bullying its fat length with no hesitation. The aftershocks wrings out a deeply satisfied moan from Toru, who sinks in balls deep easily. He mutters petulantly, “If her pussy didn’t feel so good, I’d be too disgusted by your spunk all over her to get hard again.”

“Be grateful I’m letting you fuck her at all,” Sato retorts. He removes his glasses, squinting and finding the fogging of the lenses a pain in the ass. As he clears it out with the bottom of his shirt, he adjusts himself over you, obscuring your view of Toru. His heavy cock hasn’t lessened in density. It rests between your tits, soaked and sticky. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do. He makes a noise of approval. 

His hands push your tits together, sandwiching his dick. Sato’s shaven. He likes things nice and clean, it’d seem. The metal bars under his cockhead are hot against your skin. You can see them. They look painful. 

In between moans, you ask him, “Did the -hngh- piercings hurt?”

He shakes his head, lazily thrusting on your skin. His cock bumps onto your tongue, leaving drops of salty cum. You can taste yourself and him, and it oddly doesn’t disgust you.

Behind his brother, Toru pushes your thighs up, hooking them over his arms. Amused, he says, “He’s lying. He cried after, telling me he regrets it and he wants the piercings taken off. What a little bitch boy.”

“He exaggerates.” But the pink tinting Sato’s cheeks tells a different story. 

“Whatever you say, big bro,” Toru muses.

He yanks you back and forth on his cock, not exactly thrusting anymore. You’re back to being used a fleshlight, as a pocket pussy, dragged up and down the veiny length of him. He’s reaching deep, stretching you out even more than his brother did, though he doesn’t reach your cervix as nicely as Sato had. It hardly matters to you. The pleasure’s all the same. 

Thumbs brush over your nipples, flicking and rubbing, all while Sato squeezes your breasts tightly around his cock. His veins are prominent too, and they tickle your skin with every thrust. You swirl your tongue around his cockhead, teasing the underside where his piercings are every time he reaches your mouth. He throws his hair back, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Fuck, that mouth. Real fucking sinful,” he mutters. 

Rocked back and forth, bruised and bullied from top to bottom, fingers digging into sensitive flesh, marking and claiming, with sticky juices drying on your skin and tears dripping down your cheeks from the overstimulation — it’s one orgasm after the other.

“Aw, are you crying?” Sato asks, smirking and not looking the least bit apologetic.

Toru chuckles. “For something so tight and greedy, her pussy’s real weak, don’t you think?”

“The weakest.”

Skin smacks against skin. Juices splash. Puddles grow beneath you. You can taste their cum, feel them and hear and see them everywhere. Even when you close your eyes, the shapes of their cocks are imprinted, practically burnt on your retina. They won’t stop talking, won’t stop commenting on how you tremble and tense around them. 

One of them moans pornographically. They both laugh.

“Hear how she moans? You’d think she’s on OnlyFans and she’s trying to rack in the subs. Dirty, dirty girl.”

“She does moan pretty loudly. Squeals like a pig too.”

Toru adds, “Oh and her pussy won’t stop talking back to me. Maybe she wants to debate the collegiate system with me, or give me a glowing review on my dick game.”

“Only you’d lose to a debate with a literal cunt,” Sato says, snorting.

“Oh because you’d win one? That’s what you wanna brag about?”

“I won one when I made her cum like three times on my dick today.”

“Pssh, you’re deluded.”

None of what they say gets to you. You’re too deep in the pleasure, in the euphoric bliss, to properly register what they’re saying. You just want them to keep fucking you, to keep stimulating your entire body. You want this to never stop.

Ankles locked around Toru’s hips, you yank him back, wanting more and more of him. It’s never enough. The hairs at his base tickle your clit before he grinds his pelvis against it. Your eyes roll back. 

Sato spits a fat dollop on your tit, barely assisting the glide of his cock, which easily slides between your tits — he just wanted to do that. The sight of you all messy, lips glossy, eyes dazed, causes the corners of his mouth to twitch. 

Spitting’s his thing. Panty sniffing is Toru’s.

The more you learn about them, the more your invite to Hell solidifies. They really are twins from the Underworld, just so filthy, so lewd, so damned.

“Fucking tight, squeezing me so good,” one of them groans, barely understandable.

“Pretty fucking tits, prettier fucking mouth,” the other says, eyes flitting between your face and your breasts, undecided where it wants to stay.

All three of you moan at the same time, bodies spasming, and clit and cocks throbbing. Everyone gasps for breath, the air humid and tangy. 

Finally…

“Ngh! Sato! Toru!”

Cum spurts on your face, and you have to shut your eyes to avoid getting some in there. They land on your cheeks and nose and tongue. More cum fills up your cunt. All of your juices mix together in a warm concoction. 

You’ve never been more full and deeply satisfied. You feel it in your bones, in your souls. 

The fluff of the cuffs are soaked with your sweat and cum, the metal clammy. There are marks on your wrists from where they’ve pulled too much or too harshly, and the sting only adds to the pleasure. 

Best.

Sex.

Of.

Your.

Life.

Probably best threesome too. Not that you’re planning on having any more.

“Fuck that was good,” Toru says, hands rubbing your thigh and your stomach. He pulls out, and you wince. The emptiness is upsetting, although it doesn’t last very long; his long, slender fingers push the cum leaking out back in, keeping you plugged for a little longer. 

“Mm,” Sato agrees, wiping cum from your face only to shove it in your mouth for you to suck off. 

“What kind of freaky circus act am I looking at right now?”

Heads flip to the door. You almost get whiplash from how fast you turned. 

In the doorway, a pink-haired, heavily tattooed man stands. He doesn’t look disturbed, just amused. His eyes drink in your form, from your face to your tits to your pussy, or as much of your body he can see from where he’s standing anyway.

“Oh hey, Ryomen,” Toru says, not making a move to cover himself or you up. He just stands there between your legs, absentmindedly rubbing your clit. “How you doing?”

“Toru!” you scold, still dazed but thinking more clearly than the other two, that’s for sure. “Ask him about the cuffs.”

Does no one care about your dignity?

Nudity between men might be normal, but it’s certainly not between men and women. Despite that, they’re acting like he just caught you hanging out. No one covers you up. The newcomer doesn't look away. They’re all acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Who you presume is Sukuna finally spots the pink cuffs. He groans. “You got it all dirty. God, I fucking hate you dumbass twins. Came back to pick it up, and this is how you repay the favour? You better get me new ones, Gojos.”

You blink.

Static rings in your ears.

“They…borrowed it from you?”

Sukuna quirks a brow, like he’s surprised you’re daring to speak to him. “Yeah, twin fucker. In exchange for the keys to their garage and whatever car I wanted to drive around for the weekend.” Then he seems to piece something together and laughs mockingly. “Jesus, did they sell you some story about how I cuffed you three together in punishment or something? How dumb can you be?”

Sato huffs. “Watch it, Ryomen.”

“Yeah, another insult from your lips and I’m decking you right across the cheek.”

“Whatever you freaks.” A ping goes off on his phone. Sukuna reads the notification. “Alright, I gotta get going. Get me new cuffs and keep me out of your shit. Don’t even know why you didn’t just get your own.”

Toru chuckles, tension disappearing as though it was never there to begin with, and his fingers still fucking inside you. “Lies sell better when mixed with a little truth.”

Disgusted, Sukuna scowls. “You sound like your nerdy brother. Don’t try to sound smart, Idiot Gojo. It don’t fucking suit you.” His eyes fall back to you. He smirks. “If you get tired of their pasty asses, I’m more than happy to fuck you right. You know where I live.”

He knew you were there?

Seeing the bewildered look on your face, he scoffs. “You all breathe so fucking heavily. You think I wouldn’t sense your stupidity radiating from my closet? I mean, I always knew the two of you were in the closet, but I never knew you’d be in there with a girl. Guess sexuality really is a spectrum.”

“Fuck off, Sukuna,” Sato growls, cock soft now and being tucked right back into his pants.

He waves a hand lazily. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Unlike her, I’m not interested in doing it with twins. I’ll see you weirdos around.”

“Wait!” you call out before he can leave. “The key! We need the key!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at you. 

“You’re slower than you look,” he mutters, exasperated beyond measure. Louder, he says, enunciating hard so you’ll get it, “I. Don’t. Have. It. The twins. Are. Sexual deviants. Who lie. To get pussy. They have the key. They always had it. You think only with your clit or something?”

A pillow gets thrown at him, followed by, “Fuck off, Ryomen.”

With a middle finger aimed at all three of you, he goes back the way he came, leaving you with guilty looking twins who each fish out a small key from their pockets. 

“Oh look,” Toru weakly cheers, “we found it. Yay!”

One winces. “Guess we won’t need to go to the fire station.”

“What the actual fuck.”

The head of the Law Department. Also PhD with Distinction. The man with dark circles and even darker suits, all prim and poised as he waded through the hallways with his stacks of documents—of course, Nanami was one for suits, as well. 

They really brought out his broad shoulders- at least, that’s what you told him.

Another reason why he needs the coffee.

Fuck. 

Nanami attempts to even out his breathing as he looks up. “Hiromi.”

If Higuruma thought anything of Nanami’s startled reaction, he makes no indication. Instead he holds up a slim file in his hand, “Are you free? Could you help me with looking over this essay?”

“Of course.” 

They were the only two in the staff room right now, besides- anything to take his mind off of you.

Nanami adjusts the gold-rimmed glasses on his face before he takes the file from him. Flipping it open to find a jumble of justice and law jargon that his history-inclined brain balks at—“I never thought you’d want a history professor’s opinion on an essay about…” He squints at the title, “-the scope of judicial power and judicial review. Does this have any names of 14th century shoguns that you need me to check?”

“No- no.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face, though Nanami gets the impression that it wasn’t for him. Rather it was for whatever ravaged at the man inside- making him look up at the ceiling with a hollow sigh—“Man, I need some coffee today.”

“Understandable.” Nanami pushes his glasses up.

“The machine’s broken, right?”

“Right.”

Higuruma only lets out another sigh that Nanami relates to well.

“If it helps, Dean Yaga said it’d be fixed by tomorrow.” Nanami attempts- he never was the type of sociable guy some of the other professors were. But he gets the feeling that Higuruma was the same.

He runs a hand down his face one last time- “That’s too late, I have tutoring this evening with…” And how Nanami Kento related to that, as well. Before he seems to shake himself out of it- somewhat. “It’s alright, could you just check the grammatical and citation stuff for me?”

“Of course.” As Higuruma leans against the partition and waits, the other professor skims through the writing. It wasn’t half bad, to be quite honest, and had it been for his own class then he would’ve given it an A—none too many mistakes except for the odd careless error. At least it was human-made. 

After a while of silence, Nanami’s partway through the conclusion when he asks. “Did you happen to get tired of looking through so many essays?”

“No, it’s just…” The dark-haired man sighs once more- for about the twelfth time since he came in. “-this student, you know?”

Nanami nods—he did know. “Trouble student?”

“Not quite.” He almost gulps.

Nanami narrows his eyes. “Doesn’t attend?”

“No, she attends every class.”

“Then what?” He leans back in his chair, essay forgotten now. “The legacy kid? The credit-chaser? The class clown that isn’t actually funny?”

Higuruma cuts through them all with a fierce shake of his head. “No, no, and no—” Almost gulping. “It’s just that this student is a little…distracting.”

The tips of his ears were red.

Instantly, Higuruma looks like he regrets it.

“F-forget I said anything-”

He does.

But Nanami looks squarely at the other man.

“I have a student like that, too.”

The law professor looks at him in wary interest. “Oh?”

“My star student, actually.” Pushing his glasses up, he opens up one of his cabinets and pulls out a thick, paper-stuffed file. And though Nanami Kento does collect his students’ work for the semester to review, he never does keep them quite so close - none other than yours.

Higuruma looks through them with slightly widened eyes. “All hers?”

Nanami nods, “So diligent that it’s almost distracting.”

Higuruma pulls out an empty chair beside Nanami and sits. Legs spread. Dark eyes thoughtful. “Mine, too.” He starts—“Never have I had a student ask for so many hours of extra tutoring.”

“Mine’s basically set up a tent in my office.” Nanami chuckles- though he can’t deny the slight pang it sends down to his cock. “Always taking on more assignments for extra credit, always answering questions first-”

“Always first in class and last to leave?”

“Exactly.” Nanami agrees. And he leans a hand on his desk as he watches the other man go through those papers - they were some of his most prized possessions, he feared to admit. Words from your heart. Swooping slashes of ink from your hands.

It was a part of you in those papers that Nanami Kento held dear to him- fuck, it was a part of you that sometimes he’d bring up to his greedy nose and sniff. Almost as if he could feel your skin through these very parchments.

It made him so fuckin’ hard.

But Higuruma didn’t need to know that.

Though the careful manner in which he handled those papers - how he leaned in just a little to drown in the ink - made him wonder…

“Always wearing the skimpiest skirt to class?”

And the other man looks up in shock- as though conveying something in his silence. Oh.

He flips the file over to look at the name typed-out on the cover, and it reads—yours. Ultimately, he continues—“A-always sittin’ in the front row with her legs spread just a bit?”

Nanami nods. “Always leaning over the desk when she has to speak in private.”

There’s a slight hardening within Higuruma’s eyes - though not of any unpleasant kind - it’s almost as if something deep and carnal was stirring awake right now. “Always wearing the prettiest black lace underneath?”

“She wears baby pink for me.” Nanami can’t help but smile.

“Fuck.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face again- and if Nanami didn’t know any better then he would’ve sworn that the other professor looked even more weary than when he first came in here. “And her panties-”

“Matching set.” Nanami responds without missing a beat - and he knows he’s some ol’ pervert for this. 

He knows he is. 

But he also knows about the smile that’d spread across your face the moment you’d realized he’d seen. “Bent over too low when picking her pen up one class.”

“Fucking—fuck.” Higuruma sounds agonized.

Nanami leans back in his chair, making it bounce a little bit. With a slightly breathless sigh leaving him, and his cock hardening even more in his pants–he’s forced to manspread under the table a little more. “She’s a needy lil’ thing, isn’t she?”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Higuruma’s lips quirk up into a sensual smile - as if he was reminiscing on the memories. “Wanting to fuck her professors? Seriously?”

“Believe she’s thought of both of us at the same time?”

“Don’t even say that-” The law professor looks around, even though there was no one else here. Looking back at the man with somewhat pleading eyes, “I have tutoring with her this evening. If I can’t even fucking grade her essay without getting a hard-on then what d’you think will happen if I’m thinking of that—?”

“Oh…” Nanami hums to himself, hands lacing in front of him. The coffee-machine really was broken. “-maybe that won’t be an issue.”

Higuruma glances at him with furrowed brows, “How so?”

“What time is your tutoring with her?”

“You mean…”

The blond man shrugs coyly- “I’m not implying anything…but which one of us two do you think is her favorite?”

“And people think you’re the gentleman of us two.” Higuruma grumbles but ultimately spits out the time. It seems you’d opted for tuition classes with your law professor in the after-hours—when the offices were snug, and the department was empty. And he feels his cock perk up at the fact- how many times has he raced back home to plunge into a cold bath after your tuition classes? How many times has his shower heard your name whispered? “I’m most definitely the favorite, by the way-”

So lost in his thought, Nanami nearly doesn’t catch the sentence. He looks over at Higuruma. “Does she call you ‘sir’, too?”

“She does.”

“Well, then we’ll find out, won’t we?”

.

.

.

The two hottest professors on campus.

Higuruma Hiromi (38) with his sleek-cut suits, his polished shoes, and those sleepy eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of your soul. The depths of your body - exposed underneath him. He was a stern teacher, not afraid to make you do an assignment over and over and over again…(and you gladly would). Higuruma’s justice classes made you…wet you had to admit, hearing him bark out simulations of court cases. Orders. Commands. 

You could practically hear a sigh echo out across the room every time he acted out his attorney days. 

Every time he banged his gavel down made your knees weak.

It was no wonder that students in the law department tittered n’ scattered any time the ruggedly handsome professor walked past. 

On the other hand was your history professor. 

Nanami Kento (31) with his beefier build, his strong arms, his gentle eyes—twinkling down kindly upon you every time he corrected a mistake. Which - you have to confess - you’ve made a few more times than you really had to, just to feel his molten gaze upon you again and again. He often caused your heart (and something else entirely) to flutter at the deep musicality of his voice, managing to make even the most boring of history passages something interesting. Something that swept the class up easily.

Nanami was reputed around campus for being a complete gentleman - never looking down upon someone, never letting them walk in after him, never letting them pay him a compliment without receiving a sweet one back. 

The dream husband.

The stern and the nice.

Both of them- frat guys hated them.

It hadn’t been intentional to join both their classes- honest! 

But after seeing them on your first day, how could you not commit to maintaining a spotless attendance? You had a sneaking suspicion that the rest of the class behaved in the same manner for much the same reason - though none took it quite as far as you.

The skirts. The extra credit. The bending.

Speaking honestly, you were a teacher’s pet. Through and through.

And the tightness in their pants whenever you left a class told you- they were the best professors. To you, that is.

Which is why you’d been a little less than happy when Professor Higuruma had told you that someone might be joining your weekly tutoring. 

Invigilated tutoring? 

What the hell was invigilated tutoring?!

You admit that you’d been forced to hold back a groan of disappointment. Picking such late hours had been a conscious decision—right up there with those tight pencil skirts that you knew your law professor loved but would never admit to.

Professor Nanami was more the type to like free, flirty pleats that barely reached your thigh - and you loved the way his eyes would follow them behind those glasses of his. Even though he pretended they didn’t.

And right now you were wearing a mix of both.

Tight on top, flared at the bottom

Seated opposite his desk - thighs shut, skirt pulled down as low as it would go - more concentrated than you’d ever been during one of these tutoring sessions. It’s been about half an hour since the start of today’s tuition. Higuruma’s office was a cosy space, decked out in the most expensive-looking mahogany banisters, and shelves, and a witness box in the far corner.

It gleamed at the light—down knowingly at you, almost as if waiting for you to make a move.

But how could you? If there was a potential visitor, then you didn’t want to risk Higuruma’s job- as much as you loved teasing your two hot professors, it wouldn’t do to get them fired!

So you kept your hands and your skirts to yourself.

And even Higuruma himself had his eyes raised, possibly wondering why you hadn’t leaned over his desk or lingered a touch at his shoulder for help.

But oh, how you wanted to…

The professor looks down at his watch, “He’s late.”

You’re glancing at the closed door, “Maybe the invigilator isn’t coming?”

“Oh, he will.” Higuruma crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Trust me, he won’t miss this.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

You wondered what made him so sure.

And yet, you edge closer over the desk to him anyways.

It’s about forty-five minutes into your tutoring session when the door you’ve been sneaking glimpses of this entire time- clicks! And a looming figure walks into the room, his figure nearly taking up the whole frame.

Your jaw drops as you realize—

It’s Professor Nanami.

“Ah- Kento.” Higuruma beckons him over warmly- and you’re nearly suffering from whiplash from watching the two interact. These two are close?! Professor Nanami had been completely normal during your last class, if just a little more distracted than usual - and what was this? “We’ve been waiting.”

He looks at you as he says this.

“I had to penalize a student for missing a few assignments.” Nanami says smoothly, before bringing up a chair beside you and taking his seat. His movements were fluid and precise - as if he wasn’t questioning for a single moment why you were here so late, why you were dressed like that for him, and why you were so damn close.

You’d been staring into his handsome face for so long that he clears his throat. “Continue.”

“S-sir?” You’re chirping- and in your peripheral vision, Higuruma shuffles in his chair.

“Continue.” Nanami repeats in a stern tone. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like that—“Just as you are. I would like to take notes for teaching my own classes.”

“You heard what he said.” Higuruma nods- and now you’re looking his way to see the most knowing smile on his face. “Continue, angel.”

Your thighs squeeze at the pet name.

Nanami quirks a blond brow and notes something down.

And so you’re ducking back into your work—

“Your blouse button is undone.” 

Slightly gasping, you’re reaching down to fix it-

“No, don’t button it.” He interrupts you with his low tone, gravelly with something you can’t pinpoint. You’re looking up at Nanami to find his gaze unwavering from you already- “I was merely noting it. Nothing to fix.”

“But-”

“You unbutton it for my class, too, don’t you?” He asks, and you’re unsure what to say-

“Answer when your teacher speaks to you.” Higuruma’s humming tone echoes—and from the sound of it, he was thoroughly enjoying this. He cocks his head down at you, “Or haven’t they taught you that yet?”

“Th-they have.” You’re squirming in your seat, a slight heat simmering in your stomach. You turn to Nanami, “And I do.”

“Hm.” With nothing more said- he writes something else down in his notes.

And you think you’re in the clear.

For now.

It’s barely a few sentences later on your work that Nanami speaks up again-

“Your feet are touching his.”

You pull away-

“You’ve been writing the same sentence over and over.”

Your hand pauses-

“Your thighs are parted more so than before.”

Immediately, you’re smacking them back shut again- you hadn’t even realized. And how the hell had Nanami even seen?

And you could practically hear the smug smile in his voice - so unlike everything you know of him - as he continues. “And your bra is peeking out.”

“Never seen one before?” You mutter underneath your breath, just about to fix your collar (that you’d very purposefully left open)—

Before Nanami’s voice cuts through again. “Never seen one of yours in black before, is what.” Even as you’re looking at him in slight sensual shock- he doesn’t look up from his papers. “What happened to the baby pink you show-off in my class?”

And Higuruma merely leans back and smiles. “Black is my favorite color, remember?”

“How could I forget?” The history professor answers.

“Though I myself am curious about this baby pink of yours…”

And you have nothing else to do but gape- they knew. 

Oh, how they both knew by now.

And by the looks in their eyes, they’d been dying for this very moment.

To confront how you’d been toying n’ teasing them all semester through now- enough so that they’ve apparently begun trading secrets about their unruly star student. You knew that Higuruma tended to have his ears grow hot and red any time he bumped into you in the hallway, and that Nanami would loosen his tie as if undressing whenever you wore a particularly scandalous thing to class - but you hadn’t known they’d been pushed…to this extent.

And you were glad for it.

So you sigh—slouching back in your chair. “So you both know. What now then? Do I get written up or something?”

But Nanami only looks at you through his glasses. “Sit up straight.”

He’s never uttered a command like that in his entire life during your usual lectures. And when you don’t move - merely looking at the blond man with raised brows - Higuruma pipes up. “You best listen to him now, angel.”

“Oh please.” Fluttering your lashes at them both. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Higuruma looks at Nanami.

Nanami calmly puts his notes down on the other’s table, and looks at you.

“Why-” He pushes his glasses up his handsome nosebridge. “-teach you a lesson, of course.”

“Both of you?” You could feel the elated giggles bubbling up in your throat- and you could feel the space between your legs start to grow wetter already. Looking between both of them—“Do it then.”

And then it’s a blur - you don’t know where Higuruma’s lips end and yours begin. He’s reached over the surface of his desk to kiss you like a starved man- and he groooans into that very kiss like you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hand on your cheek. 

The tips of his canines start nibblin’ on your lower lip- and you’re kissing him back even deeper. “Shit-” Higuruma’s husky tone scorches across your face, “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do this for so fucking long.”

“Mmm, you kiss like husband material.” You’re giggling into the kiss. Both of your hands end up on his shoulders, and you could feel the shifting of his muscles through his slim suit. 

“Shit- and you talk like trouble.” He echoes out in an almost pained tone- like every second that his lips were away from yours ached. 

And those plump, pursed lips press against yours once more—so much sweeter than you would have expected this booming lawyer to kiss. He’s using the hand on your cheek to tilt down your chin- “May I?” Before the short nod you give lets him slither his tongue in wetly, lappin’ at your sweetest taste. “Shit, you’re really like sugar on my tongue.”

And you’re whining into the fervent kiss, letting it go on for a few more minutes before you’re breaking away with the most lecherous plop! And a thoroughly flushed professor chasing after your lips drunkenly-

“And what about you…” You’re kissing down Higuruma’s sharp jawline, looking at the other man who’d been sitting quietly this entire time. “-sir? Haven’t you wanted to kiss me even once this semester?”

Nanami shivers but he hides it well. Uncrossing his legs and revealing the most rock-hard, aching bulge between his legs—“Kiss? Perhaps.”

And you’re gulping at the sight.

Higuruma scoffs out a slight burst of laughter. “Perhaps.”

“But I’m a gentleman, my love.” Nanami continues, leaning back in that luxurious armchair. He takes off his coat to reveal a pale blue button-up, and beneath that was revealed the most chiselled body you’ve ever seen. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and beckons towards you. Manspread. Lap so welcoming. “Which means I’ve thought of far, far worse.”

Higuruma - with a final sloppy kiss plastered across your mouth - lets you walk over to Nanami.

Which you do on wobbly legs- plopping down unceremoniously on his lap. More than enough space there for you. He wastes no time bending you into shape in his strong arms, flipping you around to face the other man, and spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open-

Riiiiiip—!

“Whoops.” Nanami’s thoroughly unapologetic tone gruffs against the shell of your ear. Two of his vein-covered forearms were hooked underneath your elbows, and Nanami looks on boredly at the clean split down your skirt—“I always thought you’d look better without these anyway.”

Before he’s spreading your legs even further across his lap. Tearing it even more.

Exposing you for nothing but your tremblin’ legs and those drenched panties. Pretty black in color. 

So lacy that it was practically nothing.

Higuruma’s eyes widen, “Dirty girl.”

Nanami breathes, “No, that’s called being a slut.” And shock runs through your body at his words- at Nanami ‘Gentleman’ Kento’s words. Before it’s suddenly overtaken by the sudden feeling of him smearin’ aside your panties and stuffin’ his fingers inside.

Those thick crowns dooooown to the golden ring on his middle finger.

They were long and thick. Swirling and swirling the tip of his digit right ‘round your clit- and when you’re shuddering and unable to take it any longer—he pulls away and licks off that excess slick with a slurp!

Humming to himself as though it was the greatest delicacy in the world. “One thing you should know about me, darling, is that just because I’m gentleman-” And you’d been so caught up in his ragged tone, you didn’t even realize that he’d snaked his hand back down between your legs. “-doesn’t mean that I’m not depraved.”

And he’s ending off the sentence not with a full stop- no, but with a sudden shove of his fingertips between your folds. So swollen n’ sweet with slick.

You buck and he lurches his hand out to slap you on top of your pussylips.

“Down, darling.”

“Please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for.

But Nanami’s mouth waters already at the sound of it, and he’s keeping it at bay by pushing n’ pulling on the first ring of muscle at your cunt. “I said down.”

Head throwing back against his collarbone. “Oh.”

Fucking you with just the first inches of his fingers- “It doesn’t mean that m’not desperate.” Continuing as though your eyes weren’t bulging, as though your legs weren’t shaking, as though you weren’t arching off of his muscular chest. “It doesn’t mean that m’not ready to debase this pussy like she deserves.”

“Y-you mean—” You’re hiccuping, eyes starting to water at the sheer raw stretch. It was the type that left your pussy burning in the most delicious way - the feeling of having Nanami Kento’s scourin’ fingertips eager to enter your cunt. “-that whole gentleman thing was just a lie?”

“It’s not.” He responds. Final. His blond strands fall over his forehead as he keeps his eyes locked on your glistening hole, scissoring his fingers at that entrance n’ spreading you even wider. “I’m nice…”

Adding in a third finger before you’re even registering his second.

“-to everyone but this slutty pussy, that is.”

“Sh-shit—” Mewling at the top of your lungs, you’re clawing down Nanami’s strong forearms. They were the perfect thing to hold onto- just about the only thing you could hold onto as he utterly ruined your pussy with short, jerking thrusts.

Bulging the sides of your velvety walls open with his globular tips.

Cold metal ring shocking you.

So thick that he manages to probe into a few of your sensitive spots without even trying. Dragging his flexible fingers across every inch of you.

Scissoring and opening up and scissoring—deep.

Tears track down your cheeks at the sheer stimulation.

“Go easy on her, Kento.” Higuruma can’t help but groan at the sight of your pretty crying face. And soon enough, you’re hearing the metallic clinking of a belt buckle- “Don’t want to break our star student, now, do we?”

Nanami purrs against your temple. “Mmm, I don’t mind.”

“Just remember that she’s tutoring with me.”

The sound of Higuruma’s belt hitting the polished wooden floorboards is enough to make your eyes startle open- and oh, how you’re so glad it did.

Because then you’re greeted with the sight before you: of Higuruma Hiromi in utter ecstasy. All because of you.

He’d taken your seat from prior, chair angled perfectly to face the show taking place in front of him. 

Where Nanami had your legs spread aaaaaall the way as far as they would go - until Nanami could hear your joints threatening to pop - and facing the dark-haired man. His dark eyes glinted as they stared down at your glistening hole, swallowing Nanami’s rams easily.

Slurps n’ squelches emanating like music. 

Cunt dripping everywhere over the history teacher’s tight trousers. And the larger that puddle you were forming seemed to grow, the harder Nanami’s hammerin’ pace seemed to become. 

You could barely keep your eyes open long enough to see Higuruma tug down his black pants- that throbbing erection of his making an appearance. He wraps his hands around his thickened base and starts tugging, soft grunts leaving his mouth at the rapid pull-pull-pull of his cock. “Shit, she’s so fucking wet- be a little nicer with that pussy o’ hers, would you?”

“Hmmm…I don’t think she deserves it.” And with that said, Nanami plants yet another sodden spank on top of your cunt. Ring grazing your front- “She hasn’t learned her lesson yet, has she?”

That stinging sensation zaps throughout your entire body and makes you buck. “I-I have—”

Before yet another thwack! of Nanami’s calloused fingertips follow.

Harder, this time.

“I was talking to this pussy, actually.” 

And he doesn’t even wait for the primal sting to pass by before openin’ your cunt up and thrusting his fingers inside again. In and out.

Push after push into your gooey depths.

You’re so sensitive n’ wet by this point that even the slightest movements have you emanating out the loudest sounds. Squelches upon squelches—every time he’s hitting a spot deep inside your hole. “Mhmm…mmmhm.” You could feel Nanami’s head slightly nodding above your own, as if locked deeply in a conversation with your pussy’s sounds. Just one whine of yours and he’s spankin’ on you once more- “Wait your turn, my love. She’s talking t’me.”

And Higuruma- ah, Higuruma has the audacity to snicker at the action. “Now that’s just bullying, Kento.”

“Is it?” He’s slappin’ down on your pussylips once more. Listening for the sound, “She says it isn’t so.”

You’re sending a narrowed glare his way that makes the law professor roll his eyes fondly.

“Oh, alright alright-” And he half-heartedly waves off at his colleague. “Be a little nicer to my dear student, won’t you?”

“Spoiled brat.” Yet another spank. Nanami sinks his canines into the shell of your ear, and he’s tuggin’ and teasing—he’s spreading his legs even further and settling you down. With your back against his rippling chest, he pushes and pushes his greedy fingers inside your pussy. “And why do you think you- hah, deserve that, huh? Haven’t you been fucking torturing us all semester long now?”

Higuruma groans. “Can’t deny that, angel.” His hands fly even faster up and down his cock- ravaged and reddened with need. 

“Mhmmmm.” The blond-haired man agrees, “Haven’t you been wearing those slutty skirts expecting to get fucked in them? Haven’t you- fuck, haven’t you been wearing that damn lingerie hoping we’d take a peak? Aren’t I right?”

He waits for your pussy to answer first- and then you’re answering. “I-I mean-” Attempting to.

“Haven’t you been bendin’ over and shit just because you wanted to show up in our wildest dreams? To consume our thoughts and make our cocks twitch?”

“Well-”

“And we did.” Higuruma pipes up next. He was so needy that he was practically bucking off of his chair, making it creak with movement. Short, jerky thrusts.

“Oh, yes we did.” Nanami continues. He leans down to your ear, as if exposing a secret- “I’d look forward to our classes everyday, my love. I’d have to fuck my fist raw before class- just so I wouldn’t fuck you senseless in front of everyone like how you were begging me to.”

Higuruma moans as he thumbs down the line of his flared tip - that pinkish, slippery line. He twitches as though he’s near to cumming already. “Me- me, too…”

“And you still expect me to be a gentleman?”

You’re restless, opening your mouth to defend yourself and—

Nanami only leans down and spits a glittery wad of spit between your pursed lips. “Don’t talk when the teacher’s talking, darling.” 

And your ears pop with pressure-

He’s hittin’ the plushness of his palm against your pussy with a loud smack! Smearing the curves n’ divots of his fingers dooooooown and up your walls, down and up.

His crown fingertips reach for your deepest innards- and you swear you can feel him stroking your very cervix. Runnin’ his frigid ring across your walls.

Drawing a few lines and marking his placement right back there, before he tunnels his digits at a frenzied pace - fingers almost nothing but a pale blur between your legs. His speed is so feverish that it leaves your sheen tricklin’ all down your thighs.

Trickling and trickling and—

And then you feel Nanami hook his fingers against your g-spot.

The pleasure shoots up your body like a lightning strike, “O-oh my god—right there, Kento.”

“Kento? Who’s Kento?” Nanami doesn’t even falter his fingering to answer, cooing in that tone that you’d almost mistake for something sweet. “I think you meant sir-”

“S—fuck.”

“Say it.” He huffs against the side of your face. Teeth almost out for blood- “Say it. Call me ‘sir’ or you don’t get to cum.”

“I—”

“Say it.” Higuruma, to your surprise, echoes from his seat. Where he had his gaze burning into your spread-open pussy n’ his mouth drooling at the vision of you—“Say it, angel. I need to see that pretty pussy cum.” Hands rubbing faster and faster- 

“She deserves to cum, mhm.” Nanami nods. “But do you, huh?”

“I-I do.” You’re nodding up at your desperate professors. One just barely in your line of vision- but his fingers were working up such a storm. His slightly-tanned arms pinning you down, working your pussy open, hitting that target of your g-spot like a cute button. Again and again—

Blond hair ruffled. Glasses slipping down his sweaty nosebridge.

And then the other one that was just creamin’ his precum down his hands. With his hands on his swollen erection - one of them creating a tunnel for him to fuck his fist, the other flattening over his dribblin’ divot to stop from cumming already. 

Sleepy eyes half-lidded. His pale thighs shivering as they bucked n’ rutted.

And the vision itself is enough to make you cum- but then again it just felt so good on Nanami’s hands, and underneath Higuruma’s gaze. So you can’t help but let your lips wobble open—“P-please let me cum-” Stars bursting behind your vision once Nanami presses down on your clit as well. “-sirs.”

The two older men look at each other.

“Sirs?” Higuruma asks, voice breathless with ecstasy.

“She just begged for both of us.” Nanami grumbles out - though not quite unhappily. It made his cock twitch deep in his pants to have you whimperin’ like this, and he continues. “Alright then, you slutty pussy.”

And it takes only a few more strokes - a few more direct thrashes along your g-spot - for you to hurtle straight into your high.

It’s so strong that you’re seeing white behind your eyelids—and your mouth blabbers out an unintelligible combination of both professors’ names. Toes curling. Sweat beading down your temple.

Nanami holds you down as you’re thrown through wave upon wave of your orgasm, your hips bucking up and down desperately. Riding throughout your bliss- and if that wasn’t already enough, he counts underneath his breath to measure how long it takes between your peaks of euphoria. Before hittin’ away at your g-spot just in time with each one.

The sensations that take you over are just incredible.

And your head falls back limply against Nanami’s shoulder.

Shivering. Almost as if you were in heat- and your pretty pussy gushes out honeyed slick as though to give credit to that statement.

Lavishing Nanami’s open thighs with all your sap—Higuruma eyes the mess and gulps. “Kento, give me a taste of that.”

Nanami scoffs. “In due time.”

“Kento, I need her pussy on my face now.”

Slowly but surely, you’re fluttering your eyes open at the feeling of being shuffled around - only seeing the beautiful, brown eyes of Higuruma Hiromi staring down at you. When did he get so close?

“Hiromi?” You’re blubbering out stupidly, still suffering from the aftershocks of your previous high. Those zapping bursts of electricity made your thighs twitch sensitively- “I mean- sir?”

Higuruma shivers, “You trained her well, Kento.”

“Mhmmm—” Nanami noses down the column of your throat proudly.

“Maybe now it’s time for a reward then, huh?”

You’re perking up. “Yes, please.”

Nanami snickers. “You spoil her.”

And in almost no time, you’re finding yourself handed off to the law professor - Nanami stands up and gets off of the armchair. While Higuruma takes his place- 

At least, that’s what you think is going to happen.

But what ends up happening instead is that Higuruma seats you down on the chair, letting your barely-clothed pussy rub up against the cushion. Something in his eyes gleams at the way you’re squirming, and he speaks to you in a gentle tone. “Can you turn around and hold the headrest f’me, angel? Be a good girl f’me?”

“A-alright?” Confused, you’re just doing what he says. He meant that you had to turn and climb your knees onto the seat, ass turned towards the professors, back slightly arched.

“Mmm, good.” Higuruma admires the view. “Arch that back just a little more f’me now, alright?”

“Like this?” 

And still not sure what he was about to do, you can only follow his commands. It almost feels like a doggy position- and you hold onto the wooden headrest for dear life.

“Mhmmm.”

And Nanami’s the first to mutter to himself, “Don’t tell me you’re…” He takes in the sight of you - with your front resting against the backrest of the chair. You have your spine bent, your ass cheeks displayed for them, your cunt not quite on the seat—“Hiromi, you dirty dog.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Steadily, Higuruma’s kneeling on the floor. 

There’s no warning before he then shoves his face nose-deep into your cunt- straight from behind. 

Higuruma grabs onto either side of your ass cheeks, his prominent nose curvin’ up the slit of your pussy. He’s using his grip on you to draaaag you further down onto his face—“Mhmmm—spread those legs.”

He’s muttering.

He’s spitting- stern lips pursing and letting out a rivulet of saliva.

It strikes vertically down your cunt before Higuruma’s running his fat tongue over it. Smearing around the mess he’s made- but most importantly, smearing around the mess that you’ve made.

You’re whining as Higuruma’s textured tastebuds seem to take over your pussy. All the way from the plumpness of your folds, and then dipping between them to tease your hole- you’re still so sensitive from the massage that Nanami’s fingers had simmered into you. And you’re trembling your thighs further open, “P-please- fuck-”

“I’m a lawyer so I’m really good with my tongue, y’know?” Higuruma pants out, scorching hot against your needy pussy. “But that means my fees are high, too-”

“A-and what are your fees?” You’re sobbing out.

“Mmmm…” He takes the time to think—and by that, you mean that he rovers his mouth over where your clit was throb-throb-throbbing. The law professor takes his sweet time spreadin’ open your pussylips with his tongue, before letting his tongue flop out n’ draaaaaag down your clit-

And his next words are so lecherously muffled. “Ride my nose raw, sugar.”

You gasp.

In the background, you can hear a gruff bout of laughter that notably doesn’t belong to Higuruma.

You grip onto the headrest of the chair harder than ever- because in a split-second, Higuruma’s thumbin’ your folds open and stuffing your hole all full of his tongue. 

So loooong and slick- curving right against the roof of your pussy. It makes you jolt to feel his honed, flexible tip zig-zagging its way down your channel—mazing and mazing inside that it’s as though his wet muscle was never-ending.

Higuruma Hiromi was damn ravenous.

He feels your knees start to slip away from him- and he claws his fingers deep into the globes of your ass cheeks to pull you back. Uncaring if you’re whining for mercy- “A-aren’t you supposed to be the nice one, sir?”

“Spoiled.” Nanami’s voice echoes from the distance.

“Mmm- keep calling me that, yeah?” Groans wrenching from the back of his throat at the mere sound of that title being said in your pretty voice. How nice it was to make you beg. “And no—”

“No?”

“I am being nice by letting you ride my nose, aren’t I?” His head jerks just a little upwards to look at you- and Higuruma can just barely make out the shock on your face. “I know how much you’ve wanted to ride it-”

“Hiromi-”

“Ever since ya fuckin’ met me, huh?” His rough tone vibrates through every vessel of your body- pushed even further by the constant swabbin’ he was doing inside. Swab after swab. “Ever since ya first saw me- don’t think I didn’t see how you stared at me.”

You’re clawing further up the headrest. “B-but how did you know-”

“Oh, angel…” Higuruma almost chuckles. Something dark and depraved- “If I was wrong then you wouldn’t be so fucking wet- I can barely breathe.”

Both of his roughened palms plaster around your thighs. Draaaagging you bodily - as though you were nothing against him - to glue your pussylips to his own lips.

He makes out with your pussy like a man parched.

“And I don’t need to.”

Your vision blurs with pleasure as Higuruma spreads your folds perfectly apart- and starts rammin’ his tongue into you wildly. Thick and thirsty for the taste of your sweet, sweet juices—any time that even a mere droplet of your sap starts to drip down your thighs- you can best believe that Higuruma was whipping his head down to slurp it up. “Harder.”

“I-I am-”

“Faster.”

“Fuck-”

“Raw, I said raw.”

Practically addicted to it. 

He’s pussydrunk in with just a few sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. And you yourself can feel your pupils start to circle inside the whites of your eyes.

Spreading yourself even further on the chair to meet his utterly ravenous mouth-

“Didn’t forget about me now, did you?”

Nanami Kento sounds the closest he’s been since he had you on his fingers- which could feel like minutes, hours, days ago by now. It takes you significant effort to blink away the clingy film of tears on your eyes, and you’re opening them to find that he was actually…standing right in front of you.

Nanami had rounded the side of the armchair - and if you looked up, there his handsome face was. So now you have your law professor at your behind, and your history professor’s crotch in front of your face. His pants much too tight. 

His cock thick and throbbing underneath there.

Clasping onto the headrest of the chair, if you raised your head juuuuust a little then you’d be able to mouth over the twitching erection he hid underneath there. “K-Kento?”

Nanami looks down at you through his gold-rimmed glasses. Grinning at your teary expression, “Only a few minutes with your nice teacher n’ you’ve already forgotten your manners, my love?” His hand falls to his formal pants, “Guess we have to go back to lesson one.”

“O-oh…”

Nanami had already unbuckled his belt and lets it drop to the floor—clink! Followed right along with the popping of his buttons, it doesn’t take too long before you’re face-to-face with his rock-hard bulge. Achingly hard. Almost painfully hard.

Barely held together by his boxers, he seeps out such volumes of precum that it creates a dark patch on the silken fabric. It glistens just a bit under the dim lighting of the office- something that makes you gulp.

And something that makes Higuruma nudge his tongue even deeper inside of you- shit, you could feel yourself growing more aroused. And he could taste it.

“Did you know she gets sweeter n’ sweeter the wetter she gets?” Higuruma slurs from in-between your legs, latching onto your clit with a loud squelch! “And you won’t believe it…but right now she tastes like the tastiest strawberry candy- heh.”

“Is that so?” Nanami’s nose crinkles as he looks down at you. He’s admiring that drunken expression on your face for a little bit, before reaching his right hand down and clasping at the back of your head. “Filthy girl.” 

You shiver. “C-can’t help it-”

“Ah ah—not another word out of you.” The blond-haired man continues. His grip tightens- “I expect you not to speak when your professor is speaking-”

Cocking his head just a little, Nanami takes a glance at the famished way that Higuruma was kissin’ between your legs. Gasping. Gulping.

He had his mouth gaped wide open and was dragging it across every inch of your pussy that he could reach- sticking that long tongue of his between your pussylips. You’re almost sandwiching his tastebuds for a bit before he manages to flicker his tastebuds inside again—then in and out, in and out, in and out.

Faster than before.

Reeling back out to slap! your pussy with the flat surface of his tongue.

Then probin’ back in again.

Higuruma’s just being so loud-

“-and when this pussy is speaking.” The rest of the history professor’s sentence makes you gasp - brain so muddled that you’d almost forgotten what he was saying. Almost forgotten that he has a firm grip on your sweaty scalp—one that he’d now turned into two hands upon your sweaty scalp.

Tugging your head forwards as if you were nothing but a ragdoll to smush your face against his boiling hot erection. 

Your jaw falls open and soon enough, you’re salivating all over his clothed cock. 

Tongue lavishing across the cotton of his boxers- feeling every ridge n’ vein along his shaft. 

He groans at the feeling of your heated mouth, and his fingers dig into your scalp even deeper. Tugging. Needing. One set of your fingers reach upwards to fumble its hem, and you take Nanami’s round, reddened tip into his mouth.

Moaning at the large size of him.

Moaning at the salty taste that floods your mouth-

“Hey now…” Higuruma’s choked-up tone echoes from behind. You’re feeling his tender fingers start to pull your hips back onto his face, “-don’t steal my star student away.”

“Have you forgotten that she’s my star student, too?”

“Her pussy’s on my mouth right now- so who’s in charge?”

“Well, let’s ask how she feels about it…” Nanami’s voice trails off—and only too late are you realizing that he isn’t talking about your pussy this time. He’s talking about you- waiting for your answer.

And you’re attempting to muffle out something, letting the globular edge of his cock swirl around your mouth a few times. Around and around. Just the crown of his mushroom tip prods into your every orifice inside- you’re opening your mouth to answer when Nanami jerks his hips forwards.

Fucking his cock deeeeep into your maw.

And with it, whatever words were in your throat, too. 

“I dunno about that-” Nanami hums down at the chokes n’ strangled gasps you’re letting out, just the barest noises of whatever was able to filter past his swollen shaft. “-but it sounded like a ‘you, sir’ to me.”

“Didn’t know you were that depraved.” Higuruma spits out. Dark eyes narrowed as he’s grinding you back to him n’ lapping away at your oversensitive pussylips.

“I’m a gentleman, what can I say?” The other professor responds.

As the slurps n’ sucking continues, Nanami looks at you through half-lidded eyes. He admires the way your mouth leaves a glittering glaze of spit from the tip of his cock and doooown to about halfway down his shaft—so cute how you couldn’t fit it all. “And as Head of your pussy-” Fuck, when did he even assign himself that? Is he pussydrunk already? “-I say you can’t cum until you’re fitting my cock aaaaaall the way…”

The history professor’s left hand lifts off of your scalp. Then dragging down the front of your throat - down, down, down. 

“-here.”

He points to a spot way past the back of your throat.

He fucks your mouth like he’s agonized every second he isn’t reaching for it.

Higuruma growls.

And thereafter it’s almost like a tug-of-war - on one end you’re being hauled forwards by Nanami’s grip on the back of your head. His hands strong and unwavering, no matter much you’re gasping for air- fuck, the ever-gentlemanly Nanami Kento was gone for the feeling of your mouth tightening around his hot cock.

Rutting those toned hips up into your velvety cavern like an animal-

“Just a little more.” That left hand of his wraps around your throat now, his thumb markin’ at the spots where he can feel his rounded tip probing inside. “Just a liiiiittle more now- about four inches? Heh.”

“Mmm—” Your eyes go wide in surprise.

And Nanami responds by pushing his hips even further, nearing the tip of your nose to those curls of blond at his base. “C’mon, c’mon.”

And on the other end, Higuruma had his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs. Into the flesh of your ass. His tongue fishing around your insides before he pulls out and starts nibblin’ on your damn clit—

He’s thirsty. Depraved.

“Noooo, angel.” He’s gluing his chin to the front of your pussylips. Head moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as the law professor lashes his tongue across. “Come back to me-”

“Mmm—” You’re being pulled off of Nanami Kento’s reddened, dribblin’ cock with a plop! Just from the sheer pressure of Higuruma manhandling your body from the other side - dragging you all down his handsome face. “Fuh-fuck-!”

“Where’d you think you’re going?” Only for Nanami to barely let you breathe for a split-second before he’s pulling your mouth down his shaft again.

Shovelling a gooooood few inches of his vein-covered cock inside- he marks that spot out on your throat. Even deeper than the last time you had him- “Mmm, not bad. Just a few inches- mmm, more.”

“Ride my nose.” Higuruma begs from the other end. Breath breezing down your gooey core, it makes your thighs shiver- “Ride my nose, I don’t care. Ride my nose, ride my nose—” 

And you’re just so overstimulated from all ends.

From the draaagging of Nanami’s thumb down the front of your neck, from the sensual touch of Higuruma’s nose being sandwiched between your pussylips, from the pleasure of them both playing with your body. It’s as if you’re their favorite toy to taste, to fuck - to worship because of the way they were being driven to absolute madness by those carnal sensations. 

You can only jolt your body back and forth.

Down Nanami’s cock. Up Higuruma’s ready face.

Riding his nose just like you wanted- “S-so—” Somehow barely managing to gurgle out past the pulsating tip of his cock, “So close-”

“Close?” Higuruma perks up. “Fuh-fuck- I have you, angel.”

“Remember- no cumming until you take it here.” Nanami presses his thumb somewhere near where your voicebox was bulging with the intrusion of his inches. “You’re not there yet, darling…”

“But-”

“Please let her cum.” But to your surprise, it’s your law professor who is pleading your face. 

Nanami raises a blond brow, “Oh?”

“Let her-” He slurps away on your swollen nub- sensitive and throbbing. He’s hollowing his cheeks out to get that suctioning sensation, already making your knees feel weak with pleasure. “Need her to- fuck, want her to cum on my tongue. Let her cum already.”

Nanami thrusts even deeper, “Hmm…I dunno.”

“I’m the one asking you.” Higuruma grumbles. “Let her cum-”

“Mmmpf- please.” And your brows furrow as the pit of bliss in your stomach grows stronger.

“Let her-” The law professor continues, “I’m begging you- fuck, she’s becoming so sweet. Let her cum-”

Pale brows furrowing. Sweat lines down his temple- “I don’t…just fit-” And he’s scrapin’ his bulbous tip down the roof of your cunt—all the way along to the back of your throat and targeting even further. “If she takes it until-”

Higuruma’s nose helping your grinds and bounces. “Just let her cum-”

“If she takes it-”

“Fucking let her-”

“G-gonna—” It’s the last thing you’re managing to get out before a sudden slam! of Nanami’s hips shut you up- and before you know it, you’re feeling the carnal scratch of his pubic hair. The feeling of his tawny curls at your skin, the intrusion of his throbbing shaft all the way down your throat.

And his thumb tapping where he’d marked a treasure spot - a spot he was supposed to meet. Nanami doesn’t have to say a single thing for Higuruma to bite his sharp canines down on your clit.

And before you know it, you’re bursting into your nth high of the night. 

Not just your second, but your third, perhaps even your fourth.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, and your moans are nothing but soft crackles at the back of your throat. Higuruma draaaaags you all throughout those waves of bliss, elongating them with the thorough lavishing of his tongue. 

Probin’ into every sweet spot.

Inside and out.

He digs his fingers into your thighs, now accomplishing his dream of having you ride his nose. Because you’re being made to arch your back n’ bounce your hips lecherously up and across.

Hittin’ those best angles- the peaks of your high absolutely burst through you. 

And Nanami? Your history professor was enjoying the view - cocking his head to the side and smiling as you shatter on Higuruma’s face. He watches about half your orgasm bate, before starting to fuck his swollen cock back in and out of you. Thrusting. 

“Now now—” Nanami murmurs. “You should be thankful my rubric’s so generous this time.”

You can only look up at him with your teary eyes.

That sight is enough for him to bite down on his lower lip n’ stop himself from cumming. No, he had something more important in his mind…

“Thirty seconds to finish up.” He says meanly. “Before I either drag your pussy off of his face or you have to drag yourself off, m’kay?”

“Tch- stingy.” Higuruma keeps lappin’ at you even after your high has passed. 

And once that thirty seconds of more bliss have passed - just like Nanami said - he grips both hands ‘round the back of your scalp and wrenches you off of his cock. Off of Higuruma’s mouth. He’s bending down to spit straight between your lips—

“Now, I’m gonna be nice this one time because you took all of me. Understood?” The history professor states, so firm. “Nod if you understand, my love.”

You nod.

“Good.” He then kisses your lips- tasting you, tasting himself. “Now…do you want it from the back or face-to-face? Because m’fucking you filthy either way.”

“From- from the back.” You pant out.

And Nanami gives a single, stern nod before he lets you go. “Brace yourself.”

You’re collapsing back into the chair—sitting your ass down on it this time. Before the law professor suddenly has you in his arms - he supports you in getting off of the armchair and standing up. Now in the middle of his office, you’re stumbling onto your wobbly feet.

Your arms loop around Higuruma’s neck. “Hiromi…”

“Mmm, I love it when you call me that.” Higuruma kisses you.

“How unruly.” Both of you snap your heads at the sound of buttons popping- only to find that Nanami was taking off his button-up. And you were right- fuck, you were so right. He was so thoroughly chiselled underneath, almost Herculean in nature.

With the most naturally defined ridges n’ curves of his muscles—his firm pectorals, his washboard abs, his meaty thighs that make an appearance.

Nanami sheds of all his clothes before he stares down the two of you- “Addressing your professor by name? Clearly going against objectives to get ready? Making me jealous? What an undisciplined class, no need to be standing around.” He looks at you, “I’ll be fucking you until you can’t stand, anyway.”

A shiver runs down your spine—“Oh.”

“Now, darling.”

Higuruma lets you waddle away to Nanami- who merely swivels you around and bends you over the edge of his colleague’s desk. Papers and ink flying everywhere across the office as he does.

Folding you forwards until your head hits the table. Kneeing your legs apart.

It’s hitting you like a truck - your history professor is about to fuck you against your law professor’s desk.

“Stay still.” He gravels in your ear.

Nanami’s barely letting you take a breath before rubbin’ his bulbous tip down your dripping wet slit from behind. Hand gripping his thick hilt—up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Getting his inches coated in a glaze of your sap, Nanami hums at the feeling of you attempting to contract around him.

“This naughty girl’s reeeeal needy for me, huh?” Scorching breath heating up your skin, he kisses down your arched spine. “She says she can take all of me- can you?”

“Y-yes—” You’re sobbing into the polished mahogany. Bucking your hips up, “I want it, sir.”

You’re jolting as his puckered, pinkish tip smooches at your wet entrance- he’s just so thick that he can plug your hole up easily. Nanami’s tip throbs against your hole, and he reaches a right hand down to feel your pretty stomach - to feel where he’s going to be hittin’ with his hungry cock. 

He breathes out airily—“You want it?”

“Yes-”

“Say please.”

“Please-”

“Hmmm?”

“Please, sir.”

Nanami lurches his hips back, back, backwards- “As you wish then, teacher’s pet.”

And then you’re being stuffed with an inch or two of him.

And by stuffed—you were seriously stuffed. 

Thick and thorough. Almost too big to even fit in - Nanami fills out the orifice of your cunt without even trying. His ruby-red tip just manages to squeeze between your pussylips, before the first ring of muscle at your entrance makes him falter.

And he’s gritting his teeth at the sheer tightness, voice coming out as nothing but a hiss. “Fuck- didn’t you say that you can take it?” He’s pressing his left hand down at the base of your spine, leaning his weight in to keep you still. “Come back, my love- class isn’t over yet.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d been clawing at the desk until now. “S-sir—”

Just that is enough to make Nanami’s ravaged tip twitch inside of you- spurting out a few more dollops of pre. “Yes, darling?”

“I d-don’t—” Fuck- you swear you could feel him grow even harder inside of you at the sight of your teary expression. Staring at your history professor over your shoulder, “I don’t know if it even can fit.”

“Awww, my poor baby.” And you should know better than to let Nanami Kento hush your cries, you should know better than to let him lull you. 

But you can’t help but get pulled into his big, strong arms anyway.

“My poor, poor baby.” And from one corner of the room, you could hear Higuruma’s distant laugh. Although you don’t have the time to wonder what it means, because Nanami’s continuing- “None of those boys ever taught you how to take a real cock, hm?” 

And you can only nod. 

“None of those boys have ever fucked you right, hm?”

Nodding once more.

“Don’t you worry, darling. If you can’t take this one…”

He presses a chaste peck against your hairline. Letting his soft breath waft over the crown of your head, and his chest ripple with his words, soft. 

“-m’gonna make it fit.”

And that’s the last thing you’re hearing before Nanami’s rammin’ his swollen, aching cock into you like an animal- his furious cockhead burrowing in deep. 

He manages to shovel just a few more inches inside, before the snugness of your channel acts up once more. Leaving him barely even able to reel his hips backwards—just that much of a tight fit that’s making his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

He shakes.

His groan cracks at the back of his throat. “O-oh.” Both of Nanami’s hands fly to the sides of your hips, and his fingers fucking shake where he holds you. “Oh, yeah.”

“Shit-” You’re flinching at the scalding sensation of his breath. Gusting.

And even that mere shiver- Nanami catches onto it. And it’s only making him clasp your body even tighter, pulling you into him—“You’re really not getting away until we make it fit, my love. Good luck.”

No matter how much his ravenous hips are rutting n’ bucking and trying oh-so-desperately to hammer even more of his inches inside- he can only fuck you in short, needy half-thrusts. The rest of him left to throb wildly behind you, he keeps on stretching and stretching your insides just to fit inside.

Each one of his bucks so desperate. So greedy.

The pointed tip of Nanami’s cockhead prods away at your innards as though he’s trying to claim every single ounce of space inside you- 

“Have you forgotten that this is a joint class, Kento?”

Higuruma’s voice is enough to send pulses of adrenaline flowing through your body - and you’re just managing to look around Nanami’s toned frame. The law professor stands behind the two of you with his arms crossed, clothes mostly on except for his trousers being tugged down.

He held his blushin’ cock in one hand, pumping furiously at the sight of his star student. 

Nanami himself sighs—though he doesn’t stop his sloppy scouring of your innards for a single second. He looks straight at the other man as he asks- “Oh yes…would you like her now or after me, Hiromi?”

“Now.” Higuruma narrows his heady eyes at the two of you. And the blond-haired man slightly growls at his answer, seemingly grappling with the thought of leaving your pretty pussy right about now- “But don’t pull out.”

You feel like you’re experiencing whiplash. “What?”

Nanami only raises a sharp brow.

And Higuruma himself can’t help but crack a sleazy smirk-

Before you know it, he’s rounding the two of you. Coat off. White button-up flapping open.

He tugs on the smooth, black tie that was hanging haphazardly from his neck- and gestures something indiscernible at the other man.

Though, clearly both professors understood.

Because one second you’re slouched on top of Higuruma’s desk, droolin’ stupidly over some important documents as Nanami Kento pounds you into oblivion - and in the next second, he’s lifting you off of it.

Cleanly off the desk.

One hand wrapped around your waist, the other putting you in a headlock.

He pulls you up as though you’re nothing- and you’re ogling the way his biceps bulge around your throat. Feeling the cushy firmness of his strength—“W-what are you-”

“D’you know what a standing full nelson is?” Higuruma asks. And for a second you think he’s asking you - maybe this was some strange sort of quiz - but then Nanami nods.

“Thought that only happens in fiction? Don’t tell me you’re a secret freak, Hiromi?” He scoffs, though he pulls out either way. 

“And look who’s talking…” Then Higuruma looks at you and taps his shoulders. “Hold on, angel, he’s going to lift you.”

“Shit…” 

As expected, you’re holding onto Higuruma’s broad shoulders for leverage- whilst Nanami bends and loops his hands around your legs. His strong forearms where your knees were. 

Scooping you up into his arms.

Holding them up.

Holding you up.

Hoverin’ well over six feet in the air.

Yelping, you’re digging your nails into the law professor’s shoulders - but if it hurt, then he doesn’t’ react to the pain. Honestly, you don’t even think he could feel it right now—because Higuruma was holding out his tie.

Measuring it against your face-

Tying it around your face like a blindfold.

He knots it at the back of your head, and suddenly the room is curtained in nothing but pure black. You could only hear the gruffness of both men’s chuckles, and Higuruma asking. “Everything alright, angel?”

“Of course, it is.” Nanami mutters- almost to himself. Though he does stretch your legs a little wider, presumably to show to the other man—“Look how fucking drenched she is.”

“Good girl.”

“Naughty, you mean.”

“I must beg to differ.”

And you’re arching against Nanami’s toned front, the plushness of his abs digging against your back. It was the most sensual massage you’ve felt in your entire life- “Please- ngh, what’s with the blindfold?”

“Oh, that…” Higuruma starts. “Guess.”

“What?”

“Guess.”

Brains wracking- “You aren’t going to leave me hanging, are you?”

“No.”

“Is this a roleplay?”

“No.”

“A kink thing?”

“Well…”

“A BDSM thing?”

“Guess.”

You’re feeling helplessness wash over you—“B-but, I already did-”

“No, my love.” Nanami’s the one to speak up this time. He leans down so that he’s pressing an innocent kiss to the edge of your hairline, “We’re going to make this slutty pussy guess which one of us she’s being fucked by.”

Your jaw drops.

And your cunt grows even wetter.

An occasion that the two professors are watching with awe-

Higuruma in particular finds himself breathing out—“And your time starts…now.”

And then you’re hearing the shuffling of his trousers- right before a sudden proddin’ intrusion starts up at your entrance. It was hot and throbbing—so needy that your teeth are set on edge by the sheer volume of precum that he was emptying out.

You’re feeling his thick tip start to eeeease in- squeezing in past the tightness of your channel for a bit before pulling back and fucking you ruthlessly in semi-thrusts.

“H-Hiromi?” You guess. Surely, with him being the one that was removing his trousers it must be…

“Wrong.” Nanami grins.

And then you’re feeling his cock give you a few vicious pumps before he’s pulling away - leaving you all empty and yearning for more. Your glistening hole clenches a few times around nothing, before a sudden globular tip starts kissin’ your entrance once more.

You’re bucking back in Nanami’s arms in an attempt to figure out just who it might be- but the history professor holds onto you firmly. Not a single inch.

Not a single inch less.

Whoever was fucking you takes no more time before swabbin’ his swollen erection inside once more- biting back a groooan at the feeling of your tightening walls.

It’s the same short, jerky thrusts from before just to fit in. 

“Sir?” You’re gasping out. But surely, it can’t be twice in a row…“No wait- is it Hiromi this time?”

The cadence of his hips stops abruptly. “Can’t get enough of the law, can you?”

Nanami.

And you don’t know whether it’s the fact that you’re just feeling your brain melt at the sheer stimulation between your legs, you don’t know whether it’s the fact that both handsome men had you sandwiched between their muscular bodies—it was just driving you wild. Making you stupid.

A line of drool slicks down the side of your mouth, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate before leaning in and lickin’ it off. “I should punish you for this.”

“I-I—oh, fuck.” Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue get swallowed up by the feeling of yet another round, ruddied cockhead pushing inwards. Pulsing. Prying apart your walls. And you’re noticing that this one is slightly slimmer than the last, more pointed, more honed, more of its curvaceous tip that tilts to the left.

It makes you shiver at the feeling of his bawling divot dragging across your walls so perfectly. “Is this- sir-”

“Try again, angel.”

It was a struggle to piece your thoughts together, and Higuruma’s voice is the only thing that makes you realize-

“Hiromi.”

“Mhmmm—” Before you know it, the other man has one hand dipping between your jittery legs. His fingers easily locate your clit to tug n’ pry like the cutest gummy - how sweet. And he’s timing it to the constant probes of his looooong, smooth cock. “Good girl. A++ for that.”

“You’re quite the generous grader.” Nanami scoffs. “I would have given that a B.”

“What can I say? I do have a soft spot for her…” Higuruma’s cock was slightly lengthier than Nanami’s, you’re noticing - though not quite as thick. And with less veins that didn’t massage your inner orifices as much, but made it soooo much easier for him to slip even deeper.

Especially with this position, he manages to probe his cockhead further past where Nanami’s thicker one was able to fit.

Reaching almost for your throat with his blushing, frenzied tip- Higuruma gives a final roll over your clit before he’s pulling out. Letting a few ribbons of sap gush down your legs after him-

Ones that are being fucked right back up with a second length.

Thicker. Harder.

Throbbing so much that you swear you can count them all the way at the top of your head- Nanami’s shaft was next. And he’s lavishing your entrance with so much attention—draaaaagging his vein-decorated shaft in and out. In and out. In and out.

“S-so?” He rasps out from behind. Higuruma’s cockhead had mazed open your insides just a bit more, and Nanami struggles not to let his voice tremble. “Which one of us, darling?”

“Y-you—”

That earns you a bite on the shell of your ear. “No.”

Before he’s pulling back out.

And your breath catches- “Wait- I meant sir. It’s you, sir—”

“Too late for that now.”

“Awww, come now.” Higuruma coos as well. “How are we supposed to make an example out of our star student if she just keeps makin’ mistakes?”

“I think she’s gettin’ lazy now, huh?” The other man responds. And now both of their ruddied cockheads were droolin’ all over your entrance- mixing with the sweetened syrup that was already dripping out of you and creating such a mess. “Maybe she doesn’t deserve our cocks at all?”

“Don’t say that—” You could feel your law professor’s eyes turn to you. “You deserve it- hah, don’t you, angel?”

Shivering at the feeling of both cocks sandwiching between your pussylips. Now that they’d both pulled out- it’s as if they were fighting over who can be next. Rubbin’ and teasing. “I do—” Your voice cracks on that last note, “P-please, I do-”

“I’m still not convinced.”

Higuruma continues, “Promise us you’ll be a good girl? That you’ll listen to what your professors have to say?”

“I will I will-”

“Promise us that no more of that teasin’ stuff in class?” His prominent nose slides down the column of your throat, breathing in your essence. “None of that bending over?”

“Yes—” But you could already hear the question in your throat - and it seems that they could, too.

And it makes Nanami gruffs out. “Because - forgive us - but you do realize that it’s not just us seeing your little…display, darling?” He spreads open your legs even wider, and Higuruma’s ministrations grow even more frenzied on your clit. Squeezing. Pinching. Flicking.

And you’re restless- “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean to say that there are others more…undeserving that see those legs of yours, those panties, those tits.” There’s a sharp edge to his words—“Those boys in class can’t take their eyes off of you.”

“We can’t either, of course.” Higuruma responds. Squeezing his cock inside- “But at least that little performance of yours is meant for us, right?”

“Don’t like the way they look at you.” Nanami’s also squeezing his cock inside now - both of them bullying your hole at once. Creating a stretch that makes your vision go white- so much carnal stimulation that your entire body wracks with shakes. “Don’t like the way they turn to look. Don’t like the way they have to mysteriously…disappear into the bathrooms any time you do your little show.”

“Given…we do the same.” The law professor continues—“Because fuck- how fuckin’ pretty you look all dressed up in silk. Makes it hard not to cream my pants everytime I see you- but none of those boys have the balls to back that admiration up.”

Giving you a thorough slam—both of them.

Higuruma’s the one to continue, “But we do.”

“Because I rub my cock raw to you, my love.” Nanami ends off, holding you close to him. “N’ none of those boys could ever fuck you like we do.”

“Yes, p-please—” And you’re pushed between both of their sculptured fronts. Unable to see them- but you could feel the ridges and curves of their muscles, the way they were both leaning in as though they couldn’t get enough of you. “I only want…ngh.”

One of your arms wrap around Higuruma’s neck, and the other reaches behind you to attempt to clasp onto Nanami’s.

“Just want the two of you…”

“Hmmm…” Nanami’s cock twitches at your gooey entrance- “A+”

And then they’re alternating between fucking you—

“Hiromi.” You’re gasping at the intrusion of his smoothened tip, the velvety texture of him reaching for so many spots inside you but most importantly- that g-spot. 

And then he’s pulling back out.

“Sir- fuck, Professor Kento.” Nanami swabs his thickened tip inside and hits that precise spot. Although he decides to take it a few steps further this time and dig his rounded tip into the very back of your pussy, bottoming-out. “Shit shit shit—”

Thrust after thrust.

Pulling out. Shovelling back in.

Making you guess just which one of your two older professors were takin’ over your pussy right now- it made your head dizzy just trying to keep track. Bounced up and down in their arms.

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi.”

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi—” Before your voice shatters at the feeling of…two thickened lengths attempting to fit inside. Fighting against the resistance for a few sloppy strokes before they’re siiiiiiiiiiiinking in- “And Professor K-Kento, sir…” The feeling of their large, slick-glazed cocks were just incredible - rubbin’ against your walls and one another. Like nothing earlier.

It was a stretch like you’ve never felt before, hittin’ spots that you didn’t even know you had.

And both professors held onto your shaking body tight- they shovelled their lengths in and out of you. Two blushin’ cockheads heading for your g-spot, before their slide-slide-sliiiiiding all the way down to end up at your cervix.

Stretching apart your walls.

Making your channel bulge.

Letting the curves of their mushroomy tips drag apart your walls, n’ press into the sweetest spots of your nerves. Both of their heavy ballsacks smack-smack the front of your cunt right on time with their thrusts. Thrust after thrust.

Again and again.

Nanami grunts at the sensation of Higuruma deep inside you, “F-fuck…”

“You can say that again.” Higuruma himself replies. 

By now, the jostlin’ about had meant that your blindfold was falling off- and you could see the two men upon either side of you. Shovelling their hot cocks deep inside your pussy, positively ravaging you.

The law professor’s fingers weren’t letting up on your clit just yet, either. 

He quirks his digits just a bit to draw a little heart upon it—and soon enough you find yourself throwing your head back with a moan. “G-gonna-”

“Shhhh—” Nanami grins. His ears keenly listen to the noises from between your legs - they were just so much louder now that you had two thickened shafts ramming into you. “This pussy says she’s gonna cum soon, darling.”

“Y-you little-” 

A harsh hammerin’ on your spongy cervix. “Pardon, my love?”

“Nothing—oh.” Even their thrusting styles were different - Nanami Kento with his thorough, solid slashes as though he was trying to reach your womb every single time. And Higuruma Hiromi with slightly slower, smoother glides of his cock - soothing through the nooks n’ crannies that Nanami had activated first.

It was the perfect combination.

Naughty and nice.

Though not exactly in the way you’d initially thought.

And perhaps this manner was what was making you so desperate to cum again- “Please-” Gasping. “Let me cum—”

You’re looking between a grinning Nanami and Higuruma. Dazedly.

“Please may I-” Choking out in-between the moans and droplets of saliva that were gushing out of you- falling onto Higuruma’s puffed-out chest. “-cum, sirs?”

Both of their rock-hard cocks twitch deep inside of you.

And you’re briefly seeing a silent conversation pass between them-

“Go ahead, angel.”

“Cum all over my cock, darling.”

And it might have been minutes, it might have been seconds, it might have been split-seconds later once you’re crashing into your high. The waves of white-hot pleasure taking over you until it felt like your body was burning up. 

Feverish.

You’re crying out as you attempt to bounce your lewd hips back into both their shovelling shafts- but they’ve already got you. They’re holding onto your perspired body - so limp now with pleasure - and lettin’ their pointed cockheads hit each and every nerve bundle inside.

Pinpointing your g-spot with their lengths.

Targeting it especially through peak after peak.

After peak.

Your cunt trickles with honeyed slick- and it slips between your three bodies to drench Higuruma and Nanami’s cocks. Their thighs. Their bodies. 

Making it even louder to thrust into your cunt—you’re forced to raise your voice just a little just so that they can hear. “Sh-shit…” Until eventually you’re feeling so raw on their relentless cocks that you’re unsure whether you want them to elongate those waves of bliss or whether you want to fucking run away—“It feels so- oh, it feels…”

“And what do we say?” Nanami’s deep baritone croons out. He doesn’t slow down for a single second as he speaks- even though he himself was feeling a little sensitive by this point.

He hits his full ballsack against the front of your cunt and hisses- “Can I have it all inside…” You’re looking between them with wide, heart-shaped pupils. “-sirs?”

And you should’ve known what that would do.

You should’ve known how much that would break them.

Because with only a few final thrusts, both Higuruma and Nanami cum inside you with loud slurps! of your greedy cunt. Gobblin’ up all those white ropes of seed that they were emptying out - sheer volumes that they’d been holding onto for hours, days, this entire semester.

Nanami furrows his golden brows and presses his face into the crook of your neck. Groaning as he fucks you through his orgasm, “A-and here I was just expecting a thank you…”

“Our girl always was the sweetest.” Higuruma coos. 

Your history professor rides through his high with his teeth grit, jaw working overtime to keep his noises to a minimum - he wanted to hear your soft gasps and groans even more. Though his body shakes as it keeps on thrummin’ with pleasure. 

Visceral.

Meanwhile, your law professor let out such husky grunts after each splat! of cum that he emptied out against your womb. He couldn’t even handle fucking you properly anymore and his hips kept on stutterin’ through his waves. 

Cheeks flushed. Gaze locked on you. 

He didn’t want to tear it away.

Both of them are cumming so much that you nearly can’t tell who’s who - with their dollops of heated, syrupy sap. Each divot bawling them out messily—you can feel them stick against the end of your pussy, right where your cervix was, before being stirred about by the motions of their cylindrical shafts. 

Their prominent veins massagin’ your sweetest spots. Their globular cockheads pumping every single droplet inside you.

Every single droplet.

Not a single bead of that ivory cum escapes—but they’re both still looking at each other with the same idea.

And you’re seeing yet another silent conversation pass between them that you miss. “Oh?”

In almost no time, Higuruma and Nanami have you splayed out on the polished desk - back against its flat surface, legs held high in the air. This time, however, both their faces were between your pussylips and attempting to beat the other—

They were lappin’ their dual tongues over your leaking cunt like they were starved.

Nanami’s hand pressing down on your stomach to make a few more droplets spray out of your hole- Higuruma’s hand flicking over your clit still.

You lean back on your elbows and watch them.

And what a sight it was: both their handsome faces between your legs.

They nudge their noses against the creamy layers on top of your cunt, and swivel the mess around like mad. You could see through your tears the exact moment - the exact moment - that their pinkish tongues meet in the middle.

Where Higuruma’s tastebuds overlap with Nanami’s as they’re suckling on your clit- and they both flinch at the sensation before moaning—

And that’s before the door clicks.

“Oi, why are the lights still on? Don’t you know that campus has closed a long time ag-”

You pause.

Nanami pauses.

Higuruma pauses.

And so does Professor Shiu Kong - Head of the Mathematics Department, also PhD with Distinction. 

His jaw drops as his eyes drift over from the mess of clothes on the floor, to the mess that’d been made of you. Bite marks all over your throat. The blindfold still around your neck. And even more - you could see the way his hands tighten on his files as his gaze probes deeper, taking in your leaking, lecherous cunt.

No one moves.

Except for Shiu, who steps inside.

Your heart was in your throat.

Getting ready for a berating of some kind- or potentially even worse. Perhaps a suspension, perhaps Nanami and Higuruma would be fired at once-

“So…” Shiu’s husky voice interrupts your thoughts. “-got room for mathematics?”

A/N. Heheheheh ofc we got room for youuuuuuuuu Shiu <33

@cursed(your)wombz huh?

He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating: 

I know what you want…

- C.

And beneath that was a link.

It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield. 

You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.

0 Following.

581k Followers.

Now that makes you blink.

Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on. 

Now that was a little strange.

And so you’re scrolling down.

And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg. 

Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.

Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…

The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.

The photo is almost vampiric in nature.

Somehow. 

Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is. 

Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.

The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout. 

Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.

Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more. 

The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel. 

And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan. 

Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls. 

And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.

Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it. 

The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.

And you click on it.

Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.

Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.

“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”

Ah- you’d guessed right.

Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.

It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.

This time, it was a stream.

@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3

0 Subscribed.

820k Subscribers.

455k Currently watching.

This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.

Perfectly angled. 

Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down. 

Again and again.

Getting faster by the second before he arches-

The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.

You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.

And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet. 

Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.

Pearly white droplets of cum. 

Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.

You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.

And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?

You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?” 

A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.

“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline. 

The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”

There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.

“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”

You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!

@vampzo333: me too ME TOO

@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT

@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~

@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE

@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.

“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge. 

Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?

You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked. 

Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”

Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.

Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?

Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…

Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.

Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.

“The first time?”

Fuck.

You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”

@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.

@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.

You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.

Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.

“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”

@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.

@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.

“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”

@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.

@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~

@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!

You giggle to yourself.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?

“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”

The chat explodes in agreement.

He cocks his head, “Movie?”

Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-

@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.

“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”

Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.

Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.

Hard and fast.

The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him. 

It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.

Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.

You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.

He mouths, “Movie—”

Part of your username.

Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…

Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.

Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you. 

Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…

And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.

By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!

@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~

@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…

Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.

@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz. 

@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.

@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.

“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”

You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.

“Heh- bye, sluts.”

And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off. 

Yet your heart still thunders.

Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…

.

.

.

It was your fault that you kept dozing off.

Honestly. 

You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.

And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.

Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…

You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.

Why was the Sun coming up?

And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture. 

Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those. 

By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.

Just-so-happening to be in the very last row. 

At the very forgotten corner.

Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.

Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through. 

If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.

Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?

Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns. 

Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.

Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.

You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.

Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.

The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.

Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything. 

But if he did, he shows no indication.

Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying. 

And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…

Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.

And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low. 

Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.” 

“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”

He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.

And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…

Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy. 

Heavy.

Heavier. 

Tap-tap-tap.

A shake.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified. 

You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”

“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”

You’d seriously slept through all that?

And Yaga had left you alive?!

No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”

He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”

You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…

And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”

You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-

“Wait—!”

Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”

And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”

That makes you pause.

Was he…

“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”

Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.

And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”

Probing him gently, “But?”

“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”

“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”

He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”

“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”

“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.

And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”

“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”

.

.

.

The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms. 

Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.

You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.

This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-

Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”

“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…

He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”

“Thank you.” 

And you rise upwards in silence.

Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast. 

He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.

“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside. 

And you can’t help but follow.

A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.

Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”

“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”

He smiles.

That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.

.

.

.

The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.

And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.

It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder. 

So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.

Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.

And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.

Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.

You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now. 

Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.

Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs. 

It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.

Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.

You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more- 

Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”

@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.

@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?

@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that. 

@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^

@0003h0lesforCurse: ^

“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”

@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.

@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-

@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!

“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-

@bipplruletheworld: so down.

@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!

@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.

The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…

Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”

You jolt—at being called out.

He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.

But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard. 

Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-

@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!

Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.” 

He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible. 

You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).

.

.

.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?

That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.

You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.

The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.

He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”

His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”

“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”

“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”

“O-oh, of course—!”

And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—

You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom. 

Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”

And you jump-

Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”

“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!

And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.

Body just resting on the plush comforter before-

“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.

And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…

Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.

Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.

Heavy.

Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-

“Ah, so you’ve realized.”

And then his voice permeates the room.

The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea. 

He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.

One by one.

His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre. 

You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”

He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.

“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”

“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.

He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame. 

His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”

And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body. 

Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”

“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”

He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…

“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”

You step a little closer. 

“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”

He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-

And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own. 

He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”

It was. It fit perfectly.

And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.

Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.

And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him. 

“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!

@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??

@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3

“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”

@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…

“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”

@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^

@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-

@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…

“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”

You’re sheepishly walking into their view. 

Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”

“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”

@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-

@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu

And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?

Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.

And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.

Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.

Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”

“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off. 

And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”

@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN

@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…

@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!

“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.

And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack! 

“Please-”

“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”

Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera. 

And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet. 

And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.

Right down your sopping wet slit. 

Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.

And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive. 

Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.

Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.

And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.

Your only warning.

Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—

It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.

Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”

Oh, shit.

You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-

You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second. 

“I—oh, I um.” 

Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.

You admit, “M-maybe…”

“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”

And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.” 

“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”

Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-

And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.

@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.

@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-

@daddytoeknee: WOW.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!

@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon

The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it. 

Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.

Like a man starved.

Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.

“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.

More, more, and more.

Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-

And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”

“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”

“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”

“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”

@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.

@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE

@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.

“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”

@vampzo333: 3

@bbynohuuuuzz: 14

@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29

“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.

To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:

@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.

Oh.

Your blood runs cold.

Your cunt grows heated.

And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”

Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.

@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-

And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus. 

Tentacles flared out.

“Shit, not that damn ring again.”

And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!

Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-

Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.

This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way. 

@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??

@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-

@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.

And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…

In and out.

In and out.

Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.

Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit. 

Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.

With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”

“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”

“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat. 

@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!

@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH

@daddytoeknee: Me next <3

And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?

Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.

He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.

Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.

“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”

“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting. 

Perfect on camera.

You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!

“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”

The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.

Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…

@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!

@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn

It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.

Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.

That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.

And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.

Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed. 

Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”

“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”

Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-

“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”

@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.

@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.

“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!

One. 

Two.

You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—

“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”

A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.

“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”

At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”

“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”

And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.

“Or C…”  You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”

And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.

C floods your vision.

You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.

And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.

Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.

Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”

Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-

So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.

Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.

You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”

And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.

In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-

Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos. 

With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.

And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.

@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.

@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK

@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.

@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^

@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??

Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.

They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing. 

When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere. 

Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.

And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.

He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.

And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”

“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”

“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”

You gulp.

@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.

@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…

@vampzo333: ^^

@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^

“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”

There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.

Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…

And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle. 

He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”

The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.

“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle. 

A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.

He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.

“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”

You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”

“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”

He trails off.

He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.

Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.

And he doesn’t even seem to notice.

He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-

You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.

“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.

Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.

@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…

@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??

@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this

@Fishygurodad: Whatever…

Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”

Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.

And suddenly you’re understanding.

Oh—he was toying with you.

And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.

But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.

Big and thick.

Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.

And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”

@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.

@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…

@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?

You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”

“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it. 

“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”

“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”

Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”

“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”

“Fuh-fuuuck-”

“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks. 

You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”

“Does she really have my mark on it now?”

“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.

His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?” 

“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.

Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?” 

Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera. 

“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”

“I do—I do-” 

Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.

The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor. 

Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes. 

@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33

@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!

@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?

@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.

@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up

“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.

Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…

And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.

Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering. 

He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.

“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-

But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—

And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.

The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it. 

Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”

“N-never—”

“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”

“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.

Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”

Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”

“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”

His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated. 

And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.

Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits. 

You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?

Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.

And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”

And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—? 

“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”

“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.

“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”

“Not in the l-least…”

And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s. 

Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.

A thrust even harder than the ones before it.

Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.

And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”

He gasps dramatically-

Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.

The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”

You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure. 

@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.

@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe

@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM

Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”

“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.

His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”

“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.

And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”

And that proved it.

That proved it.

Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more. 

When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.

His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.

His hair drenched in sweat.

His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you. 

Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy. 

Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—

“Curse, baby…” You hum.

“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.

This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”

He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”

@Fishygurodad: Yes.

@Curse’swifey: YES.

@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~

@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.

@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-

He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.

Luckily for you, they liked you.

And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.

For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…” 

Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”

“Mhmmmm.”

Unable to even find the words.

The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.

Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.

The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.

Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”

Wave upon wave.

Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.

If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.

He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—

You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before. 

Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”

He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”

“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.

“So um- coffee after this?”

“It better be dinner.”

He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”

Your eyes widen.

And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”

You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.

And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??

@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-

@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-

@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?

@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.

@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??

@Fishygurodad: Damn.

@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.

@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.

@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3

A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-

geto smiles, unfolding his legs and gesturing for you to sit. “of course."

you climb into his lap a little clumsily, settling sideways against his thigh instead of squarely on top of him. your arms snake around his shoulders as you bury your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep whiffs of him through your runny, wet nose. you feel warmer than usual, he thought.

now in his lap, you relax a little–your ears seemingly perk up and your tail slowly regains its usual wag. He is amused by your instant change in attitude and presses a chaste kiss to your temple, letting you melt into his chest before resuming back to the article on his phone.

it's not long before you start to shift. he hardly notices, giving you another gentle kiss, but then he feels it again, and again, and again. he almost thought you were trying to get comfortable, but he could feel a rhythm to your movements: your hips slide back before slowly stuttering forward, smushing his thighs right along your clit with heated, breathy pants spilt across his jugular.

ah.

poor thing.

it doesn't take long for him to understand what you're doing, and suddenly your skirmish behavior all morning begins to make sense. his eyes narrow as he hears a small moan escape, almost as if you were taunting him. another owner would’ve pushed you off then and there and scolded you for being so perverted, and if they were feeling particularly mean, they'd've dragged you over their knee by the scruff and taught you a lesson for it. 

but geto does neither.

instead, he settles his hand just above your tailbone, gently guiding your unskillful hips with his heavy palm.

his other hand abandons his phone for your cotton shorts. geto fidgets with the flimsy material, pointedly ignoring your gasps. Slowly, he pulls the damp lining aside, expecting to find thoroughly soaked panties underneath, only to discover you hadn’t even bothered wearing any. he snorts softly at that, at your tenacity, but you're too busy chasing the delicious stimulation at your nub to even care about what mr. geto thinks. your fingers twist their way into his shirt while you drool stupidly over the fabric until it's transparent, letting out breathy little "s-sugu's" with every desperate hump against his thigh.

with his musky scent clouding your head and heavy hands on your body, it's not long before your legs start to thump wildly against his own. The soft little whimpers you’d been trying to hide so hard before are now dissolved into helpless, pitchy moans. geto hooks his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face up, taking in your adorable blissed-out face before pulling you into a kiss. 

geto’s mouth is greedy and coaxing, forcing its way around your pliant tongue as he shares his spit until it's dribbling down your chin. every time you try to break away for air, he follows, keeping your lips pressed to his as if he was trying to punish you by stealing the very oxygen from your lungs. 

beneath him your tail lashes back and forth across his legs and your hips begin sloppy and sloppier–he knows all too well you're going to cum. geto imagines the way you must feel right now, your aching cunt clenching around nothing, the tipsy, drowsy feeling in your head as he kisses your breath away. He thinks how salty bubbles swell at your eyelashes while a weak chant of “suguru…suguru” is spilled across his skin. 

so he stops.

his hand tightens at your hip, stopping you cold. the strength catches you off guard, but there's nothing you can do but grind in vain as you’re forced to feel your hard-earned orgasm ebb away into nothing more than a faint burning sensation at your clit. you let out a long, disappointed sob into his mouth, until he finally lets you break away, wiping salvia off your face with the back of your hand.

you want to start crying. you were so close to giving yourself a release, so so close after days of suffering through your heat, days of suguru refusing to touch you like you've begged. but before you can start the tears, suguru pulls you back by the scruff to face him.

“puppy.” geto started.

he holds you firmly in place, his fingers pressing into your side just to remind you who allowed this in the first place. His face is unsettlingly calm and his tone even. If he notices your tears, he chooses to ignore them.

"easy. none of that." he scolds, giving your cheek a feather-light pat. "greedy doesn't look pretty on you."

You open your mouth to protest, but he gives you such a stern glare that you forget what you were even going to say.

“I know this feels bad right now,” he murmurs, voice maddeningly calm. “but I'm trying to teach you a lesson." before you can speak, he lifts you up from your scruff, placing you on his other leg with humiliating ease. Then, he grabs you jaw tightly, forcing you to look upon the dark spot you’ve left on his sweats "see this, pretty? you've got to learn to control yourself." 

the stain is huge and impossible to miss, and your face starts to ache with embarrassment. you were so lost in your pleasure you hadn't even realized the mess you'd made on him—you’ve never seen a more sorry shade of grey. 

“spoiled puppies who can’t control themselves make such a mess,” he sighs, almost wistfully. “you were doing so well, too.”

“but-"

his other hand quickly slips into your pants. you buck into them instinctively, only for him to reprimand you with a quick pussy-slap. ignoring your whines, he swabs your slick across his lanky fingers, before pulling them back out for you both to admire. "you’ll get it eventually,” he says matter-of-factly, pressing his fingers to your lips. “even if it means neglecting this precious hole for a while.” 

“after all, all good puppies learn to sit still.”

His head pops up like a child getting in trouble, nervously shuffling around the room that suddenly feels far too small for the situation unraveling in front of him. He clumsily kicks the door closed from behind him with a muddled thud of the oak, the sun bleached carpeting hiding the aggressive slam from echoing down the empty hallways.

The empty hallways with no one around—except the three of you.

Now, Higuruma Hiromi intended on having an uneventful day at work today, but unfortunately for him—that’s not how the world works. His strong back was uncomfortably throbbing from the hours sat at his desk staring holes into the ten-years-too-old computer, fingers shamelessly shooting email after email to his already irritated clientele—he was ready to fucking end it; right after he stayed late of course, mind spent from the endless squinting at rewritten files he’d been fixing all day long, his coworkers far too lazy to fix themselves.

He should have expected the almost guaranteed overtime, Nanami somehow always forcing more and more stacks of manila shaded folders onto his stuffy cubicle desk. Hiromi would gladly take them off his hands though, hiding his irritated expression with a stoically flat face, some days even going out of his way to cover his scoff with a cough.

By the time he was finished with his work, it was an inky shade of deep blues out in the distance, the glass windows blurring his sense of direction. He was barely able to recall the time or even where he was at anymore. Hiromi’s brain was pure mush, a twisted squabble of private conversations, closed cases and uncomfortable cover stories.

He was ready to finally go home.

But his misery was permanent, knowing he was planning to end his day with an even more disappointing night in his apartment, sinking himself into a lukewarm bath, washing away whatever corruption that remains on his fingertips and on his mind, just to repeat the mentally draining cycle again tomorrow.

What he didn’t expect was to open his bosses office and see you—the pretty lil’ secretary he’s been silently crushing on for months and months getting christened on top of the rickety desk by the last man he expected.

His boss.

“Are you just going to stand there and continue staring at her Higuruma or are you going to come over here?” Nanami directs the shocked man, pulling his cock out from your abused cunt.

Gulping, he finally tears his eyes off of you, staring at the mess of clothes and now papers on the ground, he gawks at your skirt messily ripped in two pieces. He assumes it was from Nanami’s eagerness, torn fabric laying situated on either side of the room. Theres a singular black kitten heel turned over itself directly next to Nanami’s belt sat inches away from his own feet where he stands, the pure depravity making him shiver.

You let out a shaky breath that brings his attention onto you again, this time watching nervously as Nanami’s large frame takes a large step back from your ass, a dribbly line of sticky cum connecting the two of you until it makes a ‘pop!’ the residue flinging onto the floor.

“Kento! ‘s leaking.” You groan, breathing in a sharp breath. The loss of contact inside of you quickly deflates your gushing pussy, walls once perfectly molded around your boss's cock suddenly clench down in agony with a squeaky ‘squelch’.

You can feel the rampant drip, drip, drip! of your cunt, his honeysuckle seed seeping out from your tight hole, burning hot liquid running down your thighs, pooling at the rolled up length of your stockings.

“Ahh… Can’t have any of this leaking any further than it already has darling. Let me fix this.” Large fingertips collide with your skin, suddenly rolling your pantyhose right back up your bare mound, the tight clingy fabric sticking to your swishy abandoned cunt.

Nanami's brown loafers swiftly step over to the now dumbfounded man, his saddened irises suddenly appearing rapid as Nanami grabs Higuruma with a stern grip on his black lapels, slim legs practically dangling off the floor with a draggg of his body to stand behind you.

“Sorry we were unable to accommodate a lunch hour today.” Nanami speaks flatly, urging the shocked man’s face close to your covered cunt. “But maybe this will make up for it. A little thank you from me to you…your overtime is off the charts anyways, you need to make time for yourself more.”

Hiromi’s wide eyes peer at your leaking slit, then back at his boss, waiting for him to call his bluff—but he doesn’t budge.

His adam's apple bobs in his throat when he finally situates his nose centimeters away from your cunt, staring greedily at the sweet spot he’s been imagining for ages—now completely ruined by his supervisor, your pantyhose barely able to contain your creamy slit. “I…is this…”

“Go ahead Romi.” Voice hazed in what one could only describe as pure seduction, the words go straight to his cock, feeling it bloat in the combines of his slacks. He shouldn’t have worn the evil pair today, fabric already a size too tight to begin with starts to uncomfortably squeeze at his thick shaft as he kneels lower to the ground, knees cracking at the position of his body weight.

His movements halt when he smells it. The sweet almost sugary scent of your cunt swirling ‘round and ‘round in his nostrils, the smell compared to the stale stench of the window cleaner that hangs around the air is one that makes his eyes roll back into his skull, a growl erupting from his throat.

“What are you waiting on Higuruma, an invitation?” Kento echoes behind him, glasses all fogged up with condensation from his sweaty forehead. “Come on and give my love what she asked so kindly for.”

Taking a deep breath, he presses his nose right between your chubby folds, the thin gusset doing little to mask the pressure of his aquiline nose poking its way through flimsy material to press deeply into your drenched hole. “Shit!” His curses vibrate through the fabric, baritone rumbling through your stretched cunt.

He feels as if he died and gone to heaven, the syrupy seed from Nanami's cock erupting inside of you only making the scent even sweeter. “Smells so good angel,” he breathes in, rubbing his nose up the slit to find your tight hole, hands gripping the fat of your asscheeks. “You’re right Nanami, I’m fuckin’ starvinggg.”

A roar soars from your choked vocal cords as his tongue flatly lays against your asshole, his muscle digging down, down, down until the tip of his deep pink tastebuds land on your clit, pressing the fabric even further up your folds.

“Mmmfh, Hiromi!” You squeal, nails digging into the chipped wood at the edge of Nanami’s desk, the paint lacquer flaking off in chunks. “S-Slow down! ‘m, I’m—”

“—No. Keep going.” Nanami suddenly cuts off, raising your clammy cheeks to look at him, hazelnut irises staring into your eyes. “Behave.”

The order makes your cunt tighten around nothing, Higuruma's probing tongue doing little to help the urges to disobey Nanami’s orders, shivers booming through your body.

“So wet pretty, I knew you’d taste so damn good.” Higuruma moans through your muzzled cunt, mouth growing irritated with the barrier protecting you from his feverish licking. “Been dreaming about this for farrr too long.”

He’s talking more to himself than you at this point, mind hyper focused on the slick leaking through the soaked fabric, rubbing his nose up and down your pleasant pussy, slit allowing his face to sit all nice and snug.

His teeth nibble on your clit, the motion making you jerk with a yelp. “Hiromiiii!” Wild goosebumps travel up your chest and down your spine, ass rapidly shaking in Higuruma’s face to angle him right where you need him. “I can’t Kento! ‘s too much!”

Too much…Kento?

Kento.

Funny.

“Telling him it’s too much? Who’s the one eatin’ your cunt angel?” He questions, giggles erupting into your covered cunt. “It surely isn’t Kento sweetheart.” His tongue rapidly swirls over your swollen bead with each green word spitting from his deep berry rips, tongue tracing sharp figure eights in the gummy flesh, flicking and pushing the squishy button.

“No! N-No! Higuruma! ‘s too much! Kento d-do somethinggg,” you purr, words drowsy and slurring, thighs closing in his head at the pulsating touch.

“Ha-That’sa right. Me. Hiromi’s pussy just loooves my mouth sweetheart.” Steadily, your clit throbs against his muscle, clit kissing his flippery tongue right back, your pussy speaking French to him in a messy makeout session. “My pussy’s kissing me righttt back. N-Nanami ‘m jealous of your dick.”

The fabric is so drenched it’s hard to figure out who he’s tasting, you, Nanami or his self, spit globbing filmy bubbles into the sheer black stockings, the bubbles popping against his ear canals.

“Hiromi! Need more-need more!” You wail, Nanami’s thick forearms thankfully holding your fucked out body up so it doesn’t fall over, a heated feeling rumbling deep in your core.

“More? Jus’ said it was too much love.” Nanami coos, fingerprints sticking to your temple, wiping down to the corners of your squinted eyes ridding them of tears. “Good girl with a naughty pussy—”

“—Filfthy.” Hiromi adds, his hands sliding down the globes of your fat ass to your core, fingertips twisting and pulling the fabric until a hole appears. “How’s this for more?” He questions, pointer finger poking inside the new opening, pulling it wide.

RIPPPP.

The air conditioning suddenly hits your folds with a gasp from your wobbly mouth, the wetness between your legs freezing at the breeze brushing through your freshly uncovered skin, but Hiromi's tongue quickly soothes it, greedy tongue licking and lapping the newly exposed skin with a grunt. “God ‘m so fuckin’ lucky.” He reels, his cock leaking a constant drizzle of precum in his slacks. “Lucky to eat this delicious lil’ cunt til’ it’s allll clean.”

“Those were expensive!” You wail, the forgone barrier was hiding a monster of a tongue, the slurping behind you so loud it’s almost embarrassing, but Kento’s expression doesn’t falter, hands grounding you in the feeling.

“Can always buy more. Let him have you.” He nods, cock still hard and poking out of his khakis, a deep dark patch of wetness leaking from his tip, cock jumping every time you moan.

Hiromi’s tongue dives into your stretched hole, cock throbbing when he tastes the salty release that covers your insides, tongue scooping it down his throat with a swallow. “Clean up this big mess Nanami made of ya baby, jus’ lemme taste ya.”

His mouth utterly ravishes you, curling upwards towards your bumpy g-spot; he rolls his tongue like a shovel pummeling its way through your dirty tunnel, hips jerking beneath him. “So tight and full,” He groans uncontrollably jumping the air.

Higuruma Hiromi would do absolutely anything to feel his cock deep inside of you, greedy cock dripping and crying at the urgent idea, his calloused fingers dragging down the indent of your inner thigh, fingerprints drifting up your crack ‘til they stop just beneath the tight rim of your ass. “Makes me wonder what she'd even feel like.”

Suddenly you jolt forward, a buzzing burning sensation brushing against your ass.

Hiromi’s finger.

“Fuckkk!” Your withering frame shakes Nanami’s muscles at the protrusion in your ass, white-hot pain bubbling into searing pleasure, your body rapidly convulsing, orgasm inching closer to your heat. “Too much!” You garble, spit bubbles forming at the corners of your gushy cheeks, warmth spread deeply over your fucked-out-face.

“Ahhh-relax, you’ve got it honey.” He murmurs, finger gently pressing into your hole painstakingly slowly, your cunt so wet it smeared its way into the ring, gently guiding him inside of you. “S’ too damn tight.”

“Maybe…Maybe my cock could stretch ya out, get this hole nice ‘n wide for me.” He whispers into your skin, placing small kisses down your flesh.

“It’s hurtin’!” You whine, teary eyes looking up to Nanami’s heart eyes, his thumbs ridding you of your drizzling drops.

“No honey, you got it—I got ya.” His mouth quickly makes it up to you, tongue wide and rapid licking every ridge and fold of your soaked cunt, gently massaging the tissue ‘til your pressing your legs together around his ears, fuzzy hair ticking your thighs.

“H-Hiromi!” You hiccup, dragging your clit up and down his messy tongue, chasing your high.

The sight is one you’d only see on cheap black and white porno films, the kind hidden in the run down rental chains spread thin around town, your pornographic moans ringing in Kento’s ears. He can’t hide but hide his chuckle under a stifled breath, a huff of cool air hitting your wet temples. “Might have to figure out a way to pay you under the table Higuruma, all this overtime you’ve been doing.”

Nanami speaks to Higuruma as if he’s not nose deep in your cunt, the ridges bumping your flesh as he responds, words gargling through your sopping pussy. “Mmm I’ll take this as payment on a technicality… you’re already paying me under the table—in this case…on the floor.”

“Heh, you know you’re my favorite employee Hiromi." He chides, a teasing hint in his tense voice before he adds under his breath. “Second favorite.”

You can’t process the conversation the men are having, body feeling pulled from each direction of your hips with Higuruma's greedy fingers and hectic mouth, your line of thought dissipates, replacing common sense with your hips. “Keep going, r-right there! Right there!”

“Mmhm right there,” he nods aimlessly into your cunt, lapping back and forth like a rabid dog, his finger pressing down forcing pressure to build on your wild bundle of nerves, “right there? Or right hereee.”

“There! There! There!” You scream, words repeating like a mantra from a crazed maniac. Your orgasm forces your body forward and back again, trying to rock yourself through it, soupy moans and whines of pure nonsensical desperation pouring from your soul, throat dry from the dehydration of your gooey body.

Your body falls flat to the cold desk, Nanami’s hands gently laying you down as your eyes clamp shut, white stars prickling around your eyes, the muscles of your calves uncontrollably twisting your legs from the grueling position.

You’re barely getting a moment to breathe when suddenly you're being brought up by a large spayed palm, veiny hands adjusting you to lean flush against a suit and tie, Hiromi’s carved chest pressing into you.

“I need you honey-I… Almost came jus’ from all that eating pretty, gotta let me in.” He murmurs in a voice you’ve never heard him speak in, vocal chords gritty and hoarse and savory at the same time, your rapid cunt twisting around nothing.

You’re still woozy, body coming down from your high, the blood aggressively pumping into your head and out through your ears, you don’t hear the man behind you slip his cock out of the confines of his slacks, ten thick inches slapping your ass with a wet ‘plap’ inching it down to the thick little nook between your thighs, mushroom tip kissing the tight lil’ gap.

“Gonna stretch’ya out so good, keep you comin’ back for more and more and more ‘til your ass is sick of me.” He grumbles, mouth yapping as if his cock just hit the truth serum between your thighs, the slick coating his shaft so quickly he shivers.

“Romi!”

You don’t get to see it, but you fucking feel it.

“No! Oh my God I’m not ready! Fuckkk!” You plea, Higuruma's cock slowly entering your unprepped ass, thick wide tip instantly disappearing into your canal, the stretch so tight even Nanami can feel it.

“Breathe for me angel—oh God! Breathe-help-help me out here Nanami!” The pitiful man begs, the feeling so intense he can’t think even bare to think straight, your painfully tight ass clenching down on him with a firm tug of your tissues, ass sucking him in deep.

“Far too soon Hirguruma.” Blond hair quickly crosses your line of blurred vision, body firmly colliding with the front of Nanami’s chest as he forces your body up right, the two men straightening out your cowering body. “Far too eager.”

“C-Can’t help it, she’s begging for it! Hole jus’ sucking me innn,” he slurs, sulking umber eyes quickly growing obsessed with how your ass swallows his cock, the dry stretch even more addictive than any cups of black coffee he takes. “She’s so tight Nanami! Y-You sure you’ve been fucking her right?”

Nanami leers up at the man standing behind you, looking at him as if he has three heads and is on fire. “You truly believe I’d fuck my wife like that? This perfect womb is reserved for me.”

Wife? That’s new.

But Nanami can’t stop the hidden rage suddenly erupting into the stuffy office cubicle. “Can’t believe you think I’d waste my cum like that. Silly.”

You can feel Nanami’s cock press a kiss to your sticky lips, letting them expand around the head with a squishy sound, dampness easily engulfing him. “For someone so smart sometimes you don’t think. Ha-maybe… maybe that holes got ya acting frivolous.”

Frivolous is an understatement. His thick cock ballooning its restless cock deep in your ass, spit and slick doing little to help the burn of his shaft inching and inching itself deep in your stretched ring, each winding vein pressing against your sensitive flesh.

You can feel the size of his length fill you snuggly, cock slightly longer than Kento’s—you of course would never tell him that, hitched its way up deep inside your guts, compressing your canal so tight it was choking you, you’re thankful the girth is ever so slightly skinnier than Kento’s thick shaft, a favorable outcome for your eager cunt.

“Or m-maybe you’re frustrated you can’t fuck ‘er all dirty like ya secretly want to.” Hiromi grunts, cutting off your line of thought, shakily shifting his thighs so far back his cock snaps out of your ass, instantly colliding with Nanami’s cock.

“Fuck!” The men curse in unison, soaked cock heads bullying one another, slits spitting golden precum between the two of them.

It felt good. Although they would never admit it, the added touch gives each of them a new layer of amusement, adrenaline rapidly dripping down their thick inches into their angry tips, cocks ready to take it out on your holes.

“G-Get it together,” Kento grunts, throwing his head down to hide from the wide eye expression Hiromi is currently sporting, pressing his cock snug to your vaginal canal to avoid the other man’s cock.

Your cunt easily sucks him into your body, coincidentally at the same time Higuruama finds his pace once again, this time keeping his moments precise, slow n’ steadily fucking your hole to a gape.

“It-Nanami! You’re not gonna fit—”

“—Nonsense darling, you were made to fit me.”

Nanami’s dripping tip enters you slowly, the stretch feeling even tighter than earlier, Higuruma's thick shaft giving him little room to work within the short canal of your widened holes.

“Ahh you got it jus’ relax now honey, can feel ya clenching my cock.” Kento chokes out, your warm ribbed walls of silky pleasure feeling too good to stand straight, biceps flexing and jaw clenching at the pure pleasure your pussy is swallowing him in. “Want it just as bad as you do love, let me—him in.”

Let him in.

Let him innn.

“In. Please. Come innn.” You close your eyes, head falling against the corner of Higuruma's shoulder, his collarbone kissing the back of your head.

“Good girl, jus’ like that.” Hiromi pulls you into a kiss, fingertips padding on the pressure point of your neck to guide your mouth to his, pink tongue quickly swirling into your mouth.

You can feel a loogie of sticky spit being pressed through your open mouth, a feverish groan rumbling through Hiromi's tongue, his cock pulsating in your ass.

You hum, tasting yourself on his mouth and whining when you taste the hint of the salt that belongs to Kento’s signature seed, the same taste you’ve grown addicted to now swirling around your excited tastebuds.

You’ve never felt fuller in your life, each end filled to the possible limit, it becomes increasingly difficult to breathe, body dizzy on cock and pure depravity—soul hopelessly dependent on the men.

“Feel so perfect around me love, so beautiful all fucked and filled up.” Even when your being split open by two thick cocks Nanami remains ever so gentle, hand grazing up your messy front, buttons ripped off and messily scattered around the ground, one neatly ironed shirt frayed and ripped, the seams ticking his fingers with a fruitful grip of your breast. “So pretty. My pretty lady.”

It was a bra and no panties kinda workday, one where you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when the harsh office lighting bit down on your areolas through the cheap white fabric—you just didn’t know it would end like this, the two men you’ve always wanted equally stuffed inside of you.

Nanami’s cock skillfully kisses your g-spot with every thrust of his hips, gushing core feeling closer and closer to his cock as your ass is pressed in against itself, Higuruma giving Nanami the tightest possible canal to pummel through.

“See darling. I told you I’d fit.” Nanami moans, his hand dipping down your chest and to your belly, pressing down on the bulge of his thick shaft that rapidly fills your guts. “I’ll always fit, right in here-forever.”

Forever.

“Forever? A-And you thought I was eager.” Hiromi jabs, words poking fun at the love sick blond, his own fingertips gripping you on each side of your ass, adjusting you to take him fully, balls slapping your skin. “Pussy’s g-got ya dumb Kento.”

But you feel even sillier. Greedy figures dwarfing on either side of your body, cocks feverishly rubbing each other through the thin veil of flesh between your ass and cunt in a way you’ve ever felt before, the experience foreign yet domestic—as if you’ve always been meant to take the two of them, the three of you fitting together like a puzzle.

Little did you know how good it feels for the two men destroying you, cocks caressing one another from the inside of your translucent flesh, shafts sliding and rubbing tighter so deliciously it ribs their pleasure, moans ricocheting off the men currently facing one another, your head doing little to shield the staring.

“S-Sooo fulll,” you purr, mouth almost tasting they gummy tips alll the way up to your kiss bitten lips, chewing on your bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood, a sign Kento quickly notices.

“Feel good love? Can tell—shit! Can t-tell you’re hiding from me.” He aids, lips finding the bare skin of your neck beside Higuruma, tongue swirling around the soft spot behind your ear, action causing you to shake.

“Feels amazing! N-Never felt so full in my life Kento—I love it!”

“Oh love I can tell by the look on your face, t-thank you for—”

“—Th-Thank you for sharing this body baby,” Hiromi praises, his movements sloppy and lazy in your ass, balls tightening as he feels the pressure erupting in his stomach. “So lucky. Luckiest man aliveee,” pulling all the way out and spitting on his dick, he sticks it back in, rinse and repeat ‘til your ass is squelching loudly with each thrust, the slick adding to his pleasure.

A wiry golden patch of hair scrapes the surface of your sensitive clit, hips gyrating with each full thrust Nanami gives you, “still so tight love.” He swoons, cock throbbing and already feeling like it’s going to burst again inside of you, big balls tensing.

“Good girl…” He angles his hips just right as they snap into your front, washboard abs hard against your soft flesh with every ‘thump’. You can feel his thick tip come into contact with your cervix, thick ring of muscle protecting you from him going even deeper; his cock kisses the flesh so hard it makes you squirm. “Givin’ me justtt what I want, so perfect love.”

The men move in unison, members seesawing back and forth, back and forth, dicks just bullying your holes like a sex doll. But the pleasure is so, so worth it—your g-spot being pressed and massaged with every thrust the exhausted men give you on each side of the spongy zone, it feels like a planned out attack, little ‘pips’ falling from your woozy face each time they rub that sensitive spot.

“F-Feels—Ahh!” You grip onto each of their loosened ties, the respective yellow and forest green threads twirling ‘round and ‘round your jittery fingertips, you pull them as close as possible, feeling their heavy panting against your skin, you bring their mouths to yours, pulling them into a confusing kiss.

Like a rock in a hard place you remain rigid, body sticky and dizzy as you messily collide with the men, five o’clock shadows and all, they messily rub your cheeks, tongues swirling throughout your mouth. Your plush lips taste sickeningly sweet, reminiscent of the candy you were sucking on earlier in the day, the men practically rid you of it; tongues colliding with a suckkkk.

“More,” you babble through their lips, mind so far gone you can barely even register the situation, greedy lips pursing into Nanami’s while Higuruma’s tongue chases the contact, kiss so wet and slippery the two men can’t help occasionally caressing one another.

“Gonna make me cum-Fuck!” Higuruma curses, his hands gripping even harder on your ass, little deep indents searing what will end up as bruises into the flesh as his pace increases, messily fucking into you like he always imagined he would when he’d find himself fisting his cock at the idea. It was dirty. A sick perverted fantasy, yet now he gets to live it out, and his cock can’t wait to claim your hole. “Still so tight and wet a-angel—love this ass so fuckin’ much.”

Your eyes flutter over to Nanami’s hazel ones, his once stoic presence now utterly shattered and falling apart, his control over the situation now muddled into a puddle of his crazed sex drive, his fat thumb pressing tight against your clit, quickly massing the bundle of nerves.

“Mpfhhh!—I-I! Mmm…”

Nanami Kento is a smart man, one who is especially capable at knowing just how to make your body come undone. He can sense how close you are by the way your cunt gushes against him, mind instantly knowing what your about to ask for; he places his thumb righttt in the center of your pelvis, the pad of his thumb pressing perfectly into the sticky flesh.

It’s just what you needed. Legs shaking like a leaf you roar, mouth attempting to form coherent words, you fail; body instantly turning ridged at the start of your release taking over you.

“N-nnn—“

“What is it love? Too fucked out to speak?” Nanami mutters, cock pistoning into your cervix with a fat smooch, body jolting with every pound into the tight bump.

“I-Oh! I’m—”

“She’s fucking cumming, I can feel it.” Hiromi growls. And he sure can feel it, body clenching up in a tight pull of his cock, ass sucking him in so deep his balls slap your skin. “Suckin’ me in-fuck!”

You’re cumming like a stupid slut, back arching and mouth running, a blurry wave of pleasure erupts through your body, cumming harder than you ever have in your life.

“Yes!” It’s a crescendo of volatile waves in the symphonies of your soaked thighs, clit buzzing and cunt throbbing, your holes fully clench down, body forcing the men deep inside of your caverns, pussy obsessed with the feeling of your high. “Jus’ like that—mfphm! F-Feels a-amazing!”

Your newly found slick gushes and gushes around Nanami’s thick shaft, wetness dipping its way down your slit and finding the edge of Higuruma’s shaft, the lower vein practically soaking from the bottom up, the only sounds in the office are sounds of grunting, moaning, and the nastiest ‘plaps’ and sickest squelches of your squishy core.

Nanami’s hand grabs your face, eyes fluttering open to peer dumbfounded at the blond man, pupils blown out and fucked wide, he places his lips on yours. “You want it again? Want me to fill up your womb?” He asks, tongue licking at the sides of your mouth, his hand now lazily falling to your neck with a light squeeze—just enough to make you keen.

“W-Would look so pretty walkin’ ‘round the office s-stuffed full of me, round with my child.” His nasty thoughts only amplify Higuruma’s pleasure, mind so hazy he starts to genuinely believe he’s speaking to him, imagining his own seed fucking and filling your ass.

“Everyone would be sooo jealous, quiet lil’ secretary hiding a big secret.” He murmurs with a giggle, this time more quietly like someone could hear his words, brain turning into a mushy paste in milliseconds. “A beautiful secret from her boss—fuck! No one would ever know I'm the one who knocked yer p-pretty ass up.”

Now that he’s started he can’t stop, the idea of fucking you full and getting a permanent claim on your sinful cunt, cause his thoughts run rampid, the bravoto of his deep voice slurring at the thought. “God! Y-You’d look so pretty wobblin’ around, e-even make Hiromi jealous.”

Higuruma furrows his brows at the name drop. “Wha—Shit! Won’t be jealous, cus…” He drunkenly trials off, his hand pressing into your belly. “Soon enough I’ll be right in here, be a better daddy—”

“—Nonsense! That t-tight ass has got you delusional Higuruma, my pussy knows exactlyyy who she belongs to, don’t you?”

“N—Hhhmmm!” You can hardly respond, your body so tired and worn out, the pleasure builds right back up inside of you like electricity, the static brushing and bustling into your zappy clit makes it perk each time Nanami thrusts and ruts into the swollen bud.

Yet your cunt responds vividly, gushing and squishing around Nanami’s big cock, you cum again, body fully weightless against Higuruma.

“She—Nanami! She’s-fuckkk!” Beads of sweat drip down his temples and onto your heated cheek, a salty mess sizzling and steaming against your clammy body. And you take it. Too many cocks and too many orgasms rushing through you turns your bones into putty, body at complete mercy to fill and destroy. “Can’t stop cummin’—shit! Gonna make me cum-gonna cum—”

You feel it once; twice. Syrupy seed filling both holes at the same time.

The men react to their highs with a stark contrast, Nanami—lips crashing into yours with a grunt, minty breath twisting your tastebuds with each moan you swallow, his cock pounding in and out, in and out, riding himself through his high. But Higuruma’s movements still—cock just pumping and pulsating it’s dribbling seed deep into your ass, creamy nectar filling your body full ‘til it’s allll nice and warm, words of praise and utter nonsense falling from his pursed lips, the cracked surface finding solace in the soft skin of your neck.

“Thank you honey, thank you hon-fuck! So tight ‘n perfect” Nanami praises through open mouth kisses, his tongue digging around the crater of your mouth, licking the ridges of your cheeks.

You can feel the thick sensation of the men’s cum pouring deep into your holes, the warm gooey feeling almost soothing your aching muscles; you clench down on it—the pure urge to keep them here forever taking over you.

Hiromi’s the first to pull out, dick slowly inching down, down, down until it falls from your gaping hole, body suddenly feeling far too empty—like a part of you is missing.

You’re quickly being flung back onto Nanami, skin sticking to him like glue as he holds you firmly in place; gentle strides of his thick legs bring you to sit front and center of his brown office chair, the cushions puffing around your body.

The atmosphere feels different, a tense yet calm feeling of relaxation hangs heavy in the air, yet no one comments on it, minds far too busy recouping the last few hours in their minds.

“So…if you don’t mind me asking—how long has this arrangement been happening?” Higuruma isn’t quite too sure why he’s pressing his nose into your business, mind completely forgone the rules of respect in the office.

Maybe he’s hopeful things aren’t too serious between the two of you, but maybe if they are…he’s praying he can do whatever ‘this’ is again.

Nanami scoffs. “Sleeping with me won’t get you out of working overtime if that’s why you’re asking.”

heavy footsteps make their way down the hallway. its no other than your boyfriend, toji. he pauses right by the bathroom door, carrying that similair air of arrogance on him. he catches you in his peripherals. bent over, ass on full display for him.

he tilts his head, a small grin spreading over his face as he peeks at you through the door. one big shoulder already nudging the rest of the door open.

you dont think much of it. not until you feel one large hand come down to your ass, grip firm and heavy as he squeezes. palming and kneading your flesh with profound greed.

you gasp, glancing over your shoulder, eyes fixing on his face. his eyes are half lidded and heavy, filled with lust.

"toji!-" you squeak, half heartedly shoving his hands off of you.

he tuts in dissaproval, his other hand coming down to your hip, dragging your ass back against him. right onto him. "you teasin' me?" he huffs.

thats when you feel it. the imprint of his cock, hard and heavy against his sweats, nestling itself right inbetween your ass. he rocks his hips once. twice. low grunts leaving his mouth. hes dirty, like a fucking animal.

"..tojii!" you mewl, your hands gripping onto the drawer.

"move those hips, baby. I know ya' want it." he rumbles, his hands, way too big against you- carressing your hips, smoothing over your body as he rocks against you, essentially dry humping you in the comfort of his own bathroom.

his election rubs harder against the warmth of your pussy. he hisses, his movements slow and rough, like hes trying to fuck you through the thin fabric of your trousers. he grunts softly. it feels good.

"yeah, thats it," he grunts, watching your hips move back against him in slow circles. "atta girl."

hes nasty. perverted. deciding to take time out of his day to rut into his girlfriends warm pussy when shes clearly trying to do something. he hums, a low sound leaving his throat, hand coming down to land a firm slap on your ass.

you squeak again, eyebrows knitted. "I hate you," you huff, his cock still rubbing up against your heat.

"mm, love ya too, baby." he drawls out, big hands already moving to peel your trousers down your legs.

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