que que sera sera

Phainon grips your hips, his palms slick, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin just above the bone. He can feel the heat radiating from you, the faint tremor in your legs. He pushes in, a slow, deliberate slide, and hums in appreciation. The tight, wet heat of you… God, he’s dreamed of this. For years. He’s dreamed of this exact feeling, of being inside you, the person he knows better than anyone.

But he’s not alone.

He lifts his head, blinking sweat from his eyelashes. Your hair is fanned out over Mydei’s lap.

Phainon watches, mesmerised with a creeping sense of wrongness, as Mydei’s long, elegant fingers card through the strands. It’s not a rough, demanding grip, more of a slow, proprietary stroke. His thumb moves from your hairline to trace a lazy circle on your temple, a gesture so offensively gentle, it makes Phainon’s stomach clench.

You let out a half-moan, half-gasp, muffled against Mydei’s thigh. Phainon feels the answering, involuntary pulse of your cunt around him.

He wants—no, needs—to be the only one making you feel that. He leans down, pressing his mouth to the damp curve of your shoulder blade, tasting the salt and the faint, floral scent of your lotion. He wants to mark you, to bite down, to leave a trace of him that Mydei will have to see later.

He resists. Barely.

Instead, he redirects the impulse, pushing deeper, trying to find a rhythm that is his alone. He’s the one doing the work, he reminds himself. He’s the one whose cock is buried inside you. Mydei is just a pillow. A prop.

Mydei moves his other hand, settling it on your hip, right next to Phainon’s. His fingers splay wide, and the tip of his ring finger deliberately brushes against Phainon’s knuckle.

Phainon’s rhythm stutters. He freezes, holding himself deep inside you, and glares.

Mydei is watching him. His dark eyes are half-lidded, his expression infuriatingly calm. There’s no smirk, no overt challenge. Just a quiet, intense observation. Mydei’s gaze is clinical, assessing Phainon’s rhythm, his grip, his sweat. Phainon reads the unspoken message: She is on my lap. She came to my bed. You are here because I’m allowing it.

A hot, ugly wave of jealousy surges through Phainon. He’s known you since you were kids building forts out of couch cushions. He’s held your hair back when you were sick, he’s listened to you cry over idiot boyfriends, he’s been the one constant. Mydei is… Mydei. A few months of witty banter and shared cigarettes on your fire escape.

How dare he look at Phainon like he’s the intruder?

Mydei’s gaze drops, just for a second, to the point where Phainon’s cock drives into your hole.

Oh.

The realisation is a spike of dark, vicious triumph that cuts through the anger. He feels it, too. Mydei has to sit there, a passive observer. He has to feel your pleasure against his skin, feel the tremors Phainon is causing, but he has to watch. He has to watch your oldest, closest friend be the one to sink into you, to take you, to make you unravel. He’s jealous. He’s just as jealous as Phainon.

Phainon feels a savage smile pull at his lips, a smirk he knows looks feral. “Like the view?” he rasps, low, meant for Mydei alone.

Mydei doesn’t answer. He exhales slowly, before tilting his chin up just enough to meet Phainon’s stare. His fingers curl tighter in your hair—your hair, the same strands Phainon has tugged at to annoy you a hundred times—and drags your head back, forcing your throat into an arched line.

Phainon’s cock twitches inside you.

“I asked you a question,” he says, snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. His grip on your waist tightens, fingertips pressing into your skin. You whimper, and the sound makes him dizzy.

Mydei’s mouth quirks—finally, a reaction. But it’s not the satisfaction Phainon wants. It’s amusement.

“She looks good on my lap,” Mydei says, swiping his thumb over your parted lips. “But she takes you so fucking well. Like she was made for it.”

Phainon’s breath catches. He wants to punch him. You shift, pressing your ass back against him, and his thoughts scatter. Your cunt clenches around him, wet and greedy, your body begging for more.

“Go on,” Mydei taunts. “You want to show me who she belongs to, don’t you?”

Phainon snarls and pulls back, dragging his cock almost all the way out before slamming in again. You cry out, shuddering, your fingers digging into Mydei’s thighs. Your gasps are ragged, muffled against Mydei’s thigh, but it’s Mydei’s stifled groan that sends heat crackling down Phainon’s spine. He watches, teeth bared, as your body jolts with each thrust—watches the way Mydei’s jaw clenches when you whimper, the way his cock strains against the fabric of his pants.

The bastard is aching.

Phainon’s hand leaves your hip, fingers slick with sweat and your arousal, and drags down Mydei’s chest. He doesn’t ask. His palm presses flat against the hard line of Mydei’s cock, and the sharp intake of breath he earns is more satisfying than any taunt.

“That’s it,” Phainon says, working the button of Mydei’s pants open roughly. “Let’s see how long you last just watching.”

Mydei’s cock springs free, thick and flushed, and Phainon wastes no time wrapping his fingers around it. He strokes him in time with his own thrusts, thumb smearing precum over the head, twisting just to hear the way Mydei’s breath hitches.

You’re writhing between them now, oversensitive and trembling, but Phainon doesn’t slow. He fucks you through it, his grip on Mydei ruthless, his voice a low snarl against your ear. 

“Look at him,” he orders. “Look how much he wants you—how much he needs this.”

Mydei’s fingers tighten in your hair, his hips jerking into Phainon’s fist.

“Are you looking?” Phainon rasps into your ear. Trembling, you lift your head and nod.

Phainon’s grip on Mydei’s cock tightens, his thumb pressing into the leaking slit as he drags his fist down. Mydei exhales sharply. His free hand fists in the sheets, the tendons in his forearm standing taut as Phainon works him relentlessly, matching every snap of his hips into your trembling body. You arch, trying to catch your breath, but Phainon’s other hand pins your hip down, keeping you in place.

“Fuck—” Mydei chokes out. His head drops back, eyes squeezing shut for a second before he forces them open, gaze locked onto where Phainon’s cock disappears into you.

Phainon grins. “That’s right. Watch me fuck her.” He punctuates the words with a twist of his wrist, thumb circling the swollen head of Mydei’s cock. “Watch how she shakes for me.”

You whine, and Phainon slows down, just a little. He doesn’t let Mydei look away, though, pumping his cock until the other man’s breath comes in ragged gasps. When Mydei’s hips jerk, seeking more friction, Phainon yanks him closer with a rough tug, dragging him back.

“You want to come?” Phainon taunts. His thrusts turn uneven, his own control fraying.

Mydei’s hips jerk, a useless, involuntary buck against Phainon’s hand, a reflex of pleasure he’s clearly trying to deny. He doesn’t answer. His eyes—those infuriatingly calm, assessing eyes that have been a thorn in Phainon’s side for months—are finally, finally undone. They’re hazy, pupils blown wide and dark. They’re locked on Phainon’s.

It’s the most satisfying thing Phainon has ever witnessed.

The air in the bedroom smells of the three of you—of sweat; your floral lotion, now warmed and musky; and of arousal. The only sounds are your ragged, broken whimpers, muffled against the fabric covering Mydei’s thigh, the wet, relentless slide of Phainon’s body over yours, and the harsh, slick drag of his palm over Mydei’s length. 

“Answer me,” Phainon demands. He rolls his hips, his knuckles grinding against Mydei’s pubic bone. He’s not just fucking you; he’s fucking at Mydei. He’s proving, with every inch of his cock, that he’s the one buried inside you, the one setting the pace, the one in absolute control.

You cry out, broken moans escaping your lips. Your whole body tightens around him. He feels your walls flutter around his cock, squeezing. So close. Phainon’s carefully hoarded control, his arrogant plan to draw this out and punish Mydei, snaps.

“Look at her,” Phainon says. “She’s so close. She’s going to come for me, Mydei. Right here. On your lap, while you just sit there and watch.”

The jab hits home. Mydei’s hand—the one that had been fisted uselessly in the bedsheets, knuckles white—lashes out. His fingers find your ankle, wrapping around the bone. She’s still on my lap. She’s still touching me. She is still mine to hold.

Hot, ugly, glorious fury strikes through Phainon once more. This wasn’t part of his victory. He was the one touching you. He was the one touching Mydei. Mydei was the passive observer, the prop, the audience. He wasn’t allowed to touch back. 

Phainon pulls himself out and thrusts his cock back in, up till the hilt, until you cry out against Mydei’s skin. Your walls clench and pulse around him, a sweet, greedy milking that wrings a groan from his own chest. Your back arches, lifting you almost completely off Mydei’s lap, your body held in place only by Phainon’s bruising grip on your hips and Mydei’s desperate, white-knuckled hold on your ankle.

The sight of your climax is what melts Mydei’s sardonic mask completely. He groans, hips slamming up into Phainon’s fist. His eyes squeeze shut, his mouth falling slack, as he comes against Phainon’s fingers. He’s lost. Phainon made him lose.

Phainon doesn’t stop, chasing his own release. He buries his cock inside you with one final thrust, and comes inside you, his body shuddering, his victory absolute. He’s won. He’s taken you.

His legs are shaking. He collapses, his full weight coming down onto your back, pressing you down into Mydei’s chest, his forehead resting on your damp, slick skin. He can feel your pulse, a frantic rabbit-beat against your neck. His hand is still clamped around Mydei’s length, sticky and cooling. His cock is still buried deep inside you, softening.

Slowly, sluggishly, he lifts his head.

Crawling away from the both of you, he leans back against the headboard, breathing heavily, before stroking your hair near your temple, a mimic of Mydei’s actions from earlier. 

He’s made a mess. He’d be a really bad best friend if he didn’t clean it up, and Mydei, stoic as ever, ought to help. He’d watched, after all. He’d found pleasure in the sight. 

There’s something about it, something that twists inside Phainon’s chest, hot and insidious. But he bottles it up, and, instead, concedes defeat to Mydei for this one simple thing: taking care of you. 

“I’ll be back,” he tells the other man. “Please make sure she’s okay.”

Mydei nods, and with that simple confirmation, Phainon swings his legs over the bed and pads over to the bathroom to find a towel to clean you up with.

So when you helped Suguru drag Satoru to his bedroom and leave his heavy, snoring body on a queen bed, both of you were panting heavily as if you'd just finished a marathon.

"Satoru, you fucker, I hope hangover will eat you alive tomorrow," Suguru murmured, and you laughed quietly, never taking your eyes off the sleeping beauty, spread comfy on his white sheets.

And somehow, you have no idea at what point and why, but words spilled from your lips about how difficult it was to find an apartment as a freshman, with enough money in your bank account to live on instant noodles for the next week and rent so high you wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Just move in here."

The world almost stopped when he said, voice so casual you asked if he had drunk too much.

Suguru rolled his eyes, taking you for a tour around the house. "No, seriously. We have one room available, you're fun, Satoru rolls in money, and I'm sure he would be happy to have someone more enthusiastic here."

You weren't sure of it, considering that you've known each other for what, three days? They seemed like nice, fun guys – also hot, but not in a normal way, but more like I think I just started ovulating type – so living with them maybe wouldn't be that bad.

You stopped pondering when Suguru showed you the bedroom. Spacious, neat, with a bed twice as big as the one you had back home, a lovely desk and a TV – hello?? – so you immediately struck a bargain.

"Good, you can move in tomorrow."

You considered that maybe Satoru should also give his permission, assuming that it was his apartment after all, but Suguru waved his hand and called a moving company to take your stuff.

And Satoru? He couldn't be happier to see you the next day, jumping around like a pup, helping you happily with hanging posters on the walls, and even buying a small chair where you could sit comfortably and write your silly stories.

Ah yeah. Right.

So through the next months of living together, tightening the bond and getting closer than you've ever thought you'll be, with you feeling comfortable enough to roam around the apartment with just panties and a short top, tight around your plump tits – there was one thing you had noticed.

And you would rub your hands like a little devil, biting lip slyly and chuckling under breath, every time you had a chance to sit down with your cute, pinkish laptop and a Word displayed on a screen.

They didn't have to know about the stuff you were writing. They didn't even have to know about things you were reading, with all limbs spread on a shared sofa and soft giggles escaping once in a while. Satoru would look at you with a raised eyebrow and try to steal your phone, but you were always quicker, sleeker, pushing him away with a foot and locking yourself in a bedroom.

"It's fine babe, I know you're reading your fairy porn," he would laugh, because both you and Suguru were using his Amazon account linked directly to his supposedly never-running-out-of-money card.

So, once in a while, he would get a notification, such as "Mating with an Alien will be shipped to you soon!" or "Based on your latest research of fairy smut, monsters & aliens, and cowboy romance, these are your recommendations for this month!" Suguru would receive them from the deliveryman with a chuckle and throw on your bed with "You're getting off to it, aren't you?"

They also knew that you were quite a famous online writer, with a stable and freaky fanbase, just waiting for the next deliciously clenching smut of their favourite characters fucking in every possible scenario. They would even tease you, asking whether you needed a reference material and if a story about sucking off your roommates would sell well.

What they didn't know, however, was that it would. And it was.

But it wasn't a story of the three of you. Nah.

It was about them.

About their secret glances, so feverish and exciting, you were getting wet just by looking at the way their fingers accidentally brushed while reaching for the remote.

The way Satoru would help Suguru brush his hair or sprawl across the sofa like a lazy cat, head shamelessly placed on Suguru’s lap. He wouldn't even react – just automatically threaded his fingers through his white locks.

In the kitchen, Suguru cooked like a man possessed, apron on, sleeves rolled, moving between stove and counter while Satoru leaned against the doorway, stealing bites and getting scolded half-heartedly.

He would also wake Satoru up in the mornings and let him sleep in his own bed, because "Satoru doesn't like to sleep alone."

When you shared a couch, you would usually sit between them, thigh to thigh, hottish, feverish, with their muscular arms behind your back, grazing your shoulder blades in circles.

But to confirm your theory of their secretive love story, one evening you decided to move to the corner.

Satoru looked at you with furrowed brows. Suguru asked if you're on your period and want to lie down, but after saying that, "It's so fucking hot outside and both of you are like walking heaters", they snorted slightly and sat next to each other.

So you observed giggling and kicking your feet like a teenager who just discovered One Direction gay fics, seeing how Satoru rested his head on Suguru's shoulder and how Suguru murmured something to his ear, which made white-hair man chuckle.

At some point, you couldn't handle it anymore. They needed to know. You wanted them to know.

So you asked.

"Have you ever fucked each other?"

Well, yeah, okay, maybe it wasn't the smoothest, the most delicate way you could put it into words, but at least you were forward.

But the world suddenly stopped, together with a movie playing in TV and Suguru's hand gently massaging your calves.

They looked at you with almost no expression, as if their brains tried to process the question you've just asked.

"Have you hit your head?" Satoru asked.

"Aren't you reading too much of this gay porn you've been buying like crazy?" Suguru followed.

Oh, okay, so that was it.

You snorted, almost offended, when you looked back at the TV and filled mouth with another portion of caramel popcorn. "You would make such a good duo, tho. Acting like an old married couple already, get a room, hm?"

They were left speechless, and you tried to keep smile flat, feeling the heavy gaze of both of your roommates. "Not even a kiss, tho?"

Suguru's eyes widened, and Satoru snorted with his mouth full of jellies. "Baby, what's your problem?"

Baby, kitten, sweetie, were used daily, and you didn't even notice the way your name was finally forgotten by both of them, with only cute words slipping from their dirty mouths.

You shrugged, eyes glued to the movie. "You know, there's a chemistry between you two, so I thought that maybe you experimented a bit."

Suguru rolled his eyes, and before he could state that he's definitely not gay and loves (your) pussy dearly, Satoru hummed quietly. "I mean, do you remember when in high school we jac–"

Before he could finish, Suguru closed his sugary lips with his hand, eyes almost burning him through. "Don't feed her fantasies!"

But it was too late. You already caught on.

And a sly smile slipped your lips, when you moved on the couch closer, breast brushing Suguru's biceps. His breath hitched, but you didn't notice, resting hand on his thighs, dangerously close to throbbing dick.

"You did what, Toru?"

He mumbled something into Suguru's skin before giving it a quick, wet lick.

"You jackass!" Suguru hissed, wiping his hand on Satoru's hoodie.

Your eyes burned with a fever, so intense and clearly lost in obscenity, Satoru's throat bobbed, and he immediately regretted spilling out their secret. "N-nothing, actually. I-I must've made a mistake."

And if they thought that it was the last time you mentioned this topic, dropping it on that night with a smack of your plump lips – they were wrong.

Because you would follow them with your eyes, every-fucking-day, observing closely, with your panties tight around your ass and nipples perked under the material of your almost transparent top.

They knew summer in Tokyo was sizzling, but dear god. Let them breathe!

How could you ever think of them being into each other, when Suguru would smell your panties while doing the laundry, and Satoru used every occasion possible to lay his head on your plush tits?

Were you stupid or just not interested in them?

If the first one, well, they would fuck you stupid then.

If the second one, they needed to somehow make you look at them as men and not one of those gay couples you wrote your stories about.

Because the moment both of them have laid their eyes on you, they couldn't stop thinking about fucking their pretty roommate in every corner of the apartment, feeling like men starved every time you would greet them in the morning with messy hair and those obscenely tight pyjamas.

You were smart, funny, so fucking gorgeous, freakishly perverted in all the best ways, and could have them down to their knees if you asked to.

But you didn't!

Instead, it turned out you were more persistent than they thought, attacking them with random questions when they didn't expect, or glancing at the way Suguru would fill the kitchen's shelves with Satoru's favourite snacks.

"Stuffing full for your boyfriend, aren't you?" he wanted to erase this shit-eating grin from your face, but his eyes couldn't leave the droplets of water that rolled down your chin, down to open cleavage when you took a large sip.

"And you're a delusional pervert, aren't you?"

You laughed heartily, leaving him with a smirk and a shake of his head. "Baby, these stories twirl wrong gears in that pretty head of yours."

You sat on the barstool while he prepared pancakes for your Saturday morning breakfast. Satoru was still sleeping, snoring softly in Suguru’s bed. "I'm not the one sleeping with a man every night."

He stopped mixing the cake mass, glancing at you.

And this time, he didn't know what to say.

"Boom," you puffed, already feeling like a winner. "You're not beating boyfriend's allegations."

You did it constantly.

Not only with Suguru, but with Satoru too.

You would go out to do the shopping and, how accidentally!, the only shortcut would lead through the park, with a huge pond stuffed with koi fish. And although Suguru told you to buy ingredients for dinner quickly and get your asses back home, both you and Satoru stopped to look at cute fish swimming peacefully in circles.

"Oh god, Satoru, look!" You gripped your fingers on his bicep and showed a pair of white and black fish, floating together closely, as if synchronised. "It's literally you and Suguru!"

And Satoru would snort and drag you away from this pond. He promised himself to never go through this fucking park again.

"Can't men be just very good friends?" he asked once, sprawled on a sofa with his face deep in your plump thighs.

It was a hot summer night, with a fan humming softly in the background and crickets singing outside your balcony. You would wear those obscenely tight shorts, showing a bit of ass and sitting low on your hips. And because you were already used to his clinginess, he would put his arms around your waist and lie down innocently, sniffing your freshly washed body in a secret.

Wet hair was dripping down your shoulders, with droplets sliding down the chest.

"Not on my watch. Anyways, neither you nor Suguru is convincing enough to beat the fruity accusation."

Another time, while once again sitting between them both, unaware of the glances sent towards your bare legs and plump thighs touching theirs, you asked them one of those stupid questions again.

"Would you prefer to be Batman or Superman?"

Suguru sighed, while Satoru furrowed his brows, as if thinking about the correct answer.

"Have you read another fanfic?" Suguru asked.

You shrugged, bending over to the table and taking a sour jelly from a bowl. Your top rolled slightly, showing a part of back, with soft skin glimmering under the TV's glow.

"Don't underestimate me. I wrote it," you chuckled, seeing Suguru's face twisting in agony. "So? Which one?"

"Which one is a top?" Satoru wondered, getting a murderous glance from your other roommate. "What? I don't wanna be the bottom!"

And then both you and Suguru looked at him. Too quickly, too synchronised, with raised eyebrows and eyes falling down his pretty, whiny lips, before Suguru grinned. "Satoru, have you ever looked in the mirror?"

The white-haired man scoffed, hitting you with a sweet ball of caramel popcorn. "I'm not a fucking bottom! Let Suguru take it up his ass."

"Yeah, and forks are in the kitchen, come on Toru." You said, taking another sweet ball from between his fingers, twirling your mouth around his milkish skin.

You had truly zero idea about the way you worked them up, hadn't you?

At least that's what they thought, but...

But actually, you knew.

You noticed their hungry glimpses, gentle touches, and Satoru purring like a cat every time you hugged him to your chest. One evening, when you went quietly to the bathroom, you even saw Suguru, with his lids closed, breathing a bit ragged and a pair of your sleeping shorts pushed tightly against his nose.

Oh!

How exciting it was to see him on his knees, nose deep down your dirty panties, the one you slept in for probably the last few days. His cock was sitting heavily in his hand, while he pumped it quick, raw, with a head dripping with precum and veins popping out every time he took a fresh sniff.

So, well, at some point, you stopped shipping them, although you loved how pissed they got when you suggested that gay allegations were still there.

That's why you shouldn't be too surprised when, a few nights later, your fanfiction – and quite explicit it was, worth mentioning! – somehow got into Satoru's hands. And he somehow deduced that the doomed duo you were writing about was him and Suguru, because "Why the fuck Superman has white hair, and Batman wears a bun?!"

And considering the tension between the three of you, that hung in the air like a gallows ready to fall on the traitor's head, you really shouldn't be surprised with Suguru lying between your legs, thighs pushed to your bare breasts, and back pressed against Satoru's chest.

"His huge cock caught on Superman's tight hole? Give me a break, sweetie, the only hole my cock can fill is this one," Suguru murmured, putting his tongue flat against your folds, slurping and drinking the slick that rolled down his chin.

"And why, the fuck do you think I wouldn't like a blowjob, hm?" added Satoru and a moment later, you felt something heavy, sticky, warm on your lips, with a musky scent filling your senses. It smelled so delicious, manly and made your hole tighten around Suguru's lapping tongue. "No one ever told you to shut your mouth, and it shows."

You only managed to moan softly before his feverish tip with precum dripping down its fat shaft, pushed through your lips. "Mhmmmm."

Suguru put one finger in, twisting it, bending, looking for this spongy button that a second later made your thighs squeeze his head and a deep moan escape your throat.

"S-shit, Suguru, careful. She squeezed me so hard I almost came." Satoru's breath was already jagged when his fingers slipped into your hair and grabbed it fully, tightly, leaving you no option but move your throat according to his wishes.

"Fuck baby, it smells even better in real life," Suguru mumbled with furrowed brows and blushed cheeks, when he took a deep, long sniff of your syrupy folds, stuck by your juices. He circled your clit with his tongue, sucking in gently with hollowed cheeks, until your head spun and eyes rolled back.

Satoru's cock felt heavy in your mouth, going deep down your throat and stretching in deliciously, hitting it back with his hottish head. "Are you gonna let Suguru fuck you? Hm? Will you be a good whore and open your pretty legs for him?" he fucked your throat deeper, grinning at the sheer look of your teary eyes. "You can use it as a reference for your silly stories, huh?"

With how busy and full your mouth was, you could only nod quickly, feeling Suguru's long cock tapping on your folds. "As much as I want to taste your pussy, you need to learn a thing or two, sweetie," and then he pushed it inside, scraping your walls and drenching his shaft in your slick, until you felt it in your lungs. "For example, I really fucking love how your pussy clenches on my cock. Fuck, loosen up, or you'll snap it in half."

He shrugged slightly, feeling your walls tightening around it even stronger, juicier, seeing a wide grin pushed on the lips and eyes of a true fucking perv, enjoying being manhandled and fucked stupid by your two rommates.

Satoru's pulled out for a moment, letting you catch your breath.

And, oh, you really used this moment.

"Stop talking and fuck me sensles, you perv. Imagine my pussy's those pinky pants you cummed into last night." Suguru raised his eyebrow, pupils almost dilated, seeing your shit-eating grin once again spreading on your lips. "And you," you turned to Satoru. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend–"

But you didn't finish, because Satoru pushed his cock inside your throat once again, so brutally, your nose was buried deep in his white pubes.

"Whores have no right to speak, sweetie," he murmured, seeing fat tears running down your cheeks and eyes rolling back.

And Suguru, oh dear, he took out his cock, until only the tip was caught on your sucking walls, and a second later, thrusted it back inside raw, knocking the air out of your lungs. You felt his heavy balls on your ass, pelvis right against yours, pubes grazing your clit when he pinched it and laughed, seeing shock going through your body.

"You really are a lost cause, baby."

Squelching, slapping, soft moans were spreading through your bedroom, with Satoru fucking your throat and cutting of acces to air, while your cunt gripped Suguru's cock, milking him dry and soaking in your saps. He put your leg on his shoulder, going in even deeper, brutal, rearranging your pussy with a delightful smile on his face and head lulled back, completly lost in pleasure.

"Mmm baby, this pussy, ngh– walking around in this short and nipples out, like a fucking whore." Long, dark hair covered his blushed cheeks when he looked down, seeing fluttering walls around his pulsing grith. "You're gonna let me cum inside, right? Have a reference material for your next creampie or breeding kink fic. Tell me you're ovulating and I'm gonna put a baby into you."

But you only whined, scratching Satoru's thighs when he set a brutal pace and fucked your throat senseless. He bucked his hips hard, swollen tip scratching the back of your throat with a weak moan escaping his lips.

"You better swallow everything, baby." thrust, thrust, thrust, with both men working in a synchro. "If I knew your throat was this tight we could do it sooner, huh?"

And a moment later, when you felt warmth pooling in your lower belly, head spinning, and Suguru pinching your clit, circling nerves with his wet finger, you clenched both pussy and your throat. Warmness spilled down your throat, back deliciously arched, and Suguru thrusted his tip right against your cervix, pumping it full of his cum. It was hot and heavy in your stomach, with your throat wet and sticky from Satoru's white ropes. You cummed together with them, spilling hot juices all over Suguru's pelvis, feeling shivers down your spine.

Satoru fell back on cushions, wrapping his arms around your wet body and pressing you back against his chest. He was breathing heavy when Suguru laid down on your bare belly, feeling your fingers going gently through his dark locks.

There was a moment of silence before you laughed softly and shook your head.

"Next time, maybe you can suck ea–"

"Oh shut up," both of them growled, putting their palms on your grinning lips.

So that’s why he regarded you so coldly, after you stepped out of the bathroom to get changed, back in the hotel. But if he thought you were dressed inappropriately for your age and size, why didn’t he say anything before? Why did he have to wait until you’re all situated on the beach, when you’ve already walked five minutes, when you’ve been laying here for almost an hour, and when people can hear him?

Self-conscious, you wrap your beach cover-up tighter around your body. You felt good before he opened his mouth. You were energised by the wonderful weather, the excitement of your children, and the thrill of wearing something revealing in a place where people won’t bat an eye. Now, you just feel like a beached whale.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look, I’m making a sand castle!” your youngest calls out.

You give him a shaky smile. “Very good, sweetheart.”

Around you, the beach hums with life.

The air is thick with salt and sunscreen, warm and golden under a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at. Palm trees lean lazily in the distance, leaves whispering whenever the breeze rolls in from the water. The ocean itself glitters, waves folding over one another in soft, rhythmic sighs as people wade in and out.

There are bodies everywhere.

Girls in tiny bikinis stretched out on towels, skin oiled and glowing, sunglasses perched perfectly on their noses as they giggle at something on a phone screen. Groups of boys toss a volleyball back and forth, all tanned shoulders and easy confidence, shouting over each other when someone misses. Couples lie tangled together, limbs draped carelessly, as if the heat has melted them into one another.

You feel…out of place.

Not because anyone’s looking. Not really. Most people are too absorbed in themselves. But it’s in the contrast. The flat stomachs, unwrinkled skin, the couples on honeymoons or anniversary holidays flaunting their undying love. 

In comparison, you’ve aged. Your body’s turned curvier from the children you’ve birthed, you’ve got pudge everywhere, and it’s why your husband hasn’t touched you in months. 

No. 

Years.

He’s probably cheating, you think. All the signs are there — keeping his phone on him at all times, working overtime very frequently, a feminine scent lingering on his clothes that doesn’t belong to you, never pestering you for sex that lasts three seconds, if you’re lucky. 

Oddly enough, you don’t really mind. Sex with him has never really felt very good for you and you’ve long stopped finding him very interesting. The love that was there, that resulted in your three beautiful children, has faded. You’ve become that couple that only stays together for the children. 

A tale as old as time.

What bothers you most is how he can’t at least pretend to stomach your presence; he always has to make some snide comments to you, as if he’s a spring chicken, as if he has abs and a head full of hair. 

The nerve.

When you glance over at him, you see he’s typing on his phone. Again. No doubt talking shit about your audacity to wear a two-piece swimsuit at your age to his mistress, whoever she is. He even has a tent growing in his swim shorts. Whatever she sent him must be good. 

Clearing his throat, he sits up from his loungechair. “I have to go back to the hotel room. Um, a work thing popped up. I’ll see you later, honey.”

He doesn’t even wait for your reply before he skedaddles. 

You sigh. 

“Mommy,” one of your children says just metres away from you, “Granddad and Grammy are gonna take us for a walk. Is that okay?”

Your parents, despite their age, are much more active than someone your age. They came with you on this holiday. Perhaps because they know how your relationship with your husband is. You’re grateful for their company and for their help. 

They smile at you, holding your children’s hands. Thank god for them because three children by yourself in this heat and in this crowd would be overwhelming as hell. 

With a nod, you reply, “Yes, of course, sweeties. You go easy on them, okay? Do as they say and don’t go running off on your own.”

The three of them cheer.

Taking one of the bags with their goggles, armbands, water bottles, and children-friendly sunscreens, they go off on a little adventure. At least your kids are happy. That’s everything. 

You’re left on your own on the lounge chair, partially shaded by the parasol. 

Maybe you’ll read for a bit, nap, listen to some beach music — anything’s possible now it’s just you. A little peace and quiet will be nice. Yeah, it’ll be nice. That’s all a housewife like you can do anyway. You certainly can’t go parasailing or rent a speedboat, can you?

The thought has you chuckling to yourself.

“What’s funny, gorgeous?”

You jolt.

On the lounge chair beside you, the one your husband was occupying, is no longer vacant.

One man, with long hair tied up in a bun, is sitting facing you. There’s another behind him, one with white hair and pure black sunglasses, lying under the umbrella. When had they gotten here? Where did they come from? And how long have they been there?

The white haired man tilts his head to look at you over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m in the mood to laugh, so please, share with the class.”

Confused, you sit up. “Excuse me?”

Man-bun gives you a small smile. “Where are our manners?” He gestures to himself. “I’m Suguru.” He gestures behind him. “This is Satoru.”

You introduce yourself, though you know you shouldn’t.

They’re much younger than you are, you can tell. They have abs, which anyone can see through the sliver of the opening of their hoodie and tropical shirt; mischievous smiles that say they’re no strangers to trouble; and hungry eyes that are scanning your body up and down. 

What do they want? 

Satoru yawns, long limbs stretching. “We overheard your shitty husband running his mouth. He always like that? Y’know, spewing lies?”

God, you knew people could hear him berating you. It’s one thing behind closed doors, but it’s another to be perceived by outsiders. These two young men must have felt so bad for you they came over to make you feel better. How humiliating.

Cheeks heating up, you try to shoo them away. “I’m not sure what you want from me, but there’s nothing I can give you.”

Suguru tries to hide his smile between his hand. He muses, “Oh, I’m not sure about that — you look like you’re more than an expert in wrangling two unruly boys.”

There’s an undertone in his words that has you on edge. 

Are they flirting with you?

You struggle for words, unsure of what to say. On one hand, it’s inappropriate for someone your age to be entertaining men younger than you, especially when you’re married and a mother. On the other hand, the attention is nice. You haven’t had men expressing their interest in you in a while. And they’re very good looking boys. 

Drop dead gorgeous, actually.

Maybe you’ll let them stay, converse for a bit until they get bored and leave. It’s not like your husband will be coming back any time soon. And he’s doing much worse right now. A little harmless fun won’t be so bad, right?

“So you’re here with family?” Suguru, the more polite of the two, asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, sipping some water from your bottle, “just a little family holiday before the start of school. And you two?”

Satoru waves the question off with a lazy hand. “No, no, we live here. You can say this is our domain and you’re all trespassing, but we’re more than happy to have a beauty like you wandering around.”

The compliment has you flushing. “Oh, hush you.”

“No, we’re serious,” Suguru says, gesturing over your body. “Every part of you looks too good to eat.”

“We’ll certainly still do though,” his friend adds, laughing. 

Despite how awkward you feel talking to two people out of your age range, you find yourself laughing along too. Yeah, this is completely harmless, you think. They’re just boys finding it funny to mess around with the tourists. Boys their age want a romp, anything exciting to brag to their friends about. 

And you’re surrounded by strangers you’ll likely never see again. 

Let’s see how far this can go.

Playing along, you sultrily ask, “Oh, and you think you can handle a woman like me? I’d eat you for dinner.”

“Promise?” they respond in unison. 

They’re eager, that’s for sure. 

Practically drooling at the sight of you. They even lick their lips when you sit up straighter, tits bouncing with the movement. 

Maybe this isn’t a good idea…

Maybe they think you’re being serious, that you’ll actually let them have a taste. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you give them understanding smiles. “Look, boys, I appreciate your interest. Really. But I’m too old for you. There’s plenty of young girls around thou—”

“Blergh.” 

Satoru picks up the sunscreen from the little table between your two seats. He throws his sunglasses off and eyes the ingredients on the label. “When was the last time you reapplied?” he asks suddenly.

“I can’t remember,” you respond honestly, blinking at how they ignored your rejection.

Suguru shakes his head, tutting. “That’s not good enough. Very bad, actually. Very, very bad.”

Your skin’s just fine, you want to say, but any reassurance dies out on your tongue when they stand and circle you like wolves. From down here, they look so much taller. You can see their flawless skin more clearly now, can see the hard ridges of their tight body, and the softness. 

Whereas your husband is flabby, hairy, and rough everywhere. 

From your youth, you remember how wonderful it was to feel softness weighing you down, the energy only young men have, and their eagerness to please. It’s a life in the past come back to the present. Your thighs press together. 

They notice. 

The two exchange knowing looks, punctuated by victorious smiles. 

You just gave them the go-ahead they’ve been looking for. 

They both come to kneel beside you. You’re blocked from either side. Trapped. Landlocked. Prey to their hunt. 

“Wait a minute,” you say, panicked, when your covering is yanked off your body. You try to cover yourself with the towel from under you but they’re not giving you any room to move. “What’re you two doing!”

Suguru pinches the strings of your bikini bottoms, not pulling, just twirling the flimsy thing as though aware of how easily he could bare you to him. He casually says, “Oh, we’re just doing our duty and preventing skin cancer; the sun’s a killer, haven’t you heard, pretty?”

Meanwhile, Satoru squirts a fat dollop of sunscreen into his palm. He grins down at you. “Maybe that’s what he’s doing — I’m gonna feel you up.”

“I’d turn over very quickly if you don’t want him groping your tits…yet,” Suguru warns, amused. 

Right as those pale hands are about to make contact on your skin, you flop onto your belly like a fish. They land on your back with an, “Awww.”

You wince.

His hands are cold. They rove over your back with no hesitation. Satoru whistles. “You’re so soft! I wanna just gobble you up.”

This isn’t so bad, right? After all, you’ve always had trouble getting sunscreen on your back. Gulping nervously, you mutter, “Let’s keep this cute, you two. You’re only reapplying sunscreen. That’s it, alright? No, coping a feel.”

Behind you, someone snorts. 

“Sure,” they say in unison with no real conviction behind the syllable. 

Another pair of hands joins you. They’re cold too. It massages the oily thing on your back, taking over for the other pair which has ventured to your legs. They’re good at this — they’re pushing knots away, untightening the tension in your body, and applying just the right amount of texture to have you releasing low, satisfied moans. 

People must be looking at you weirdly; you were just with your family five minutes ago. Now you’re being touched up by men probably half your age. 

But, for all their teasing, they are respecting your boundary.

Until they aren’t.

It starts off slow at first, very light and almost not there. For a minute, you can actually convince yourself they’re just being helpful. Although, you’re vaguely conscious of hands coming under the bow of your bikini top with the excuse of needing to get even the areas that won’t see the sun. The other pair climb up to your thighs, delving into the inner parts, forcing your legs apart. 

You’re on edge, unable to let the tempting sleep take you. 

At every second, you’re aware of exactly where they’re touching, of who is. You can tell the difference: Satoru is more rushed, more excited. He wants to feel all of you all at once. Whereas, Suguru is more languid, more leisurely. He takes his time. He wants you to feel him. 

“Feel good?” one of them asks.

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, of course you’re feeling good. Who doesn’t like to be massaged?” the other says, arrogant. “You know, we’re good at internal massages too.”

Biting your lip, cheek smushed on the towel, you say, “Behave, Satoru.”

He groans, hands gripping your thighs tight. “That’s so fucking hot.”

“Careful,” Suguru drawls. “Your mommy kink is showing.”

“Mind your own business, Suguru.” 

That’s when they start growing bolder — the hands at your thighs creep up higher, gripping you in pulses, whilst the hands on your back slide down the sides, fingertips grazing the plumpness of your breasts which have spilt out. You tense, anticipating their next moves.

A thumb brushes the gusset of your bottoms. You jolt. 

In a flash, you push yourself up. 

They stare up at you, pupils blown out and eyes tracking your every move. Both of them look annoyed that you’d pulled away just when it was getting good. But you had to. They were about to do something very, very wrong in a very, very public setting. 

“I’m going to get in the water,” you tell them, inching away. Your feet sink in the sand. Out of the shade, the sun’s heat engulfs you. Now that you’re free from their broad chests, you notice how the beach isn’t all that crowded. There’s definitely people out and about — families, kids, old people and vendors — just not so many that you can’t breathe. 

You could have sworn there were more people minutes ago. Are you relieved that there are less witnesses to your inappropriate indulgement or frightened by the fact there are less witnesses to their hunger?

Suguru nods, rolling a shoulder back. “Yes, good idea. We’ll join you.”

“What?” you nearly shriek. Then, trying to compose yourself, you argue, “No, no. No need. Go and enjoy your day. Do whatever it is kids do these days.”

Satoru’s the first to stand. First to stroll over to you. He throws his jacket behind him. It lands right where you had been lying down. With a shit-eating grin, he spins you around and slings an arm over your shoulders. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re right where we wanna be.”

His friend slinks to your side, also shirtless.

You dig your heels in the sand, tugging yourself away. “On second thoughts, maybe I should go back to my hotel and see how my husband’s doing.”

They share a look.

Then they’re both dragging you to the water.

Maybe they’re strong and you can do nothing against their insistence. Maybe you don’t fight that hard. Whatever the case may be, you end up stepping inside the water regardless. 

The small waves lap at your ankles, and soon, with their guiding hands, at your shin, knees, then thighs, hips, waist, and in a blink, you’re mostly submerged. The sea really is all-consuming. 

Their chiselled shoulders and chests are all you can see as they circle you in the water like sharks. There are a few people in the water too, but they’re spread out. No one close enough to hear you thankfully.

“We’ve been eyeing you since you got here,” Suguru confesses, lips grazing the shell of your ear as he presses close behind you. He grips your waist, inching up a little.

You’re even closer to them than before — they’re tall, strong, carved by the heavens, truly blessed. So why are they here, with you? Why you when there are so many younger, prettier girls? 

Satoru’s hands find your hips under the water, he yanks himself to you. “Couldn’t stop looking at you in this sexy bikini. We’ve been hard since. Like, really, really hard.”

They sandwich you between them, between two men who are young enough to be your friends’ children. Or your own. With a shake of your head, you attempt to scold them: “Now, boys, this is very bad of you. I’ll overlook this just once so you can go on your way and your parents won’t have to know.”

One of them snickers. He looks over your head to talk to his friend. “Parents? She thinks we’re kids.”

Suguru leaves a scalding kiss on your bare shoulder. You gasp. He says, “We’re grown men, pretty. We’re all adults here. What are you so worried about?”

The three of you are swaying in the water. The salty scent of the sea is hitting your nose, dizzying. In the distance, you hear people’s laughter and their light conversation. The world is turning, though it feels like it’s paused for you. 

“Maybe I’m worried about the boners you’re grinding against me,” you retort, flustered. You’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to pretend you can’t feel two hot and heavy things poking your back and your stomach. But they make it impossible to when they’re grinding it against your body so shamelessly.

To make a point, Satoru moves your hips on his body. He’s rubbing you up on his boner, face buried in his chest with the water tickling your collarbone. He makes a pornographic moan, partly to tease you and partly because it’s helping his boner. 

In a panic, you scan the area for anyone who might have heard. 

No one’s looking. 

He says, “I wanna feel good. Don’t you wanna feel good? Wanna do something about the boners you’ve given us? Y’know, take responsibility and all that?”

At first, you wanted to dispute his second question; you did not give anyone anything, let that be clear. But his main question echoes in your head. 

You do want to feel good.

By god, do you.

You haven’t felt good in years. You’ve forgotten what it even means to feel good. Still, this is wrong. It’s all shades of wrong, and you can’t let yourself get swept up. So you weakly reply, “I’m a mother.”

“Mmm, that makes no difference to us,” Suguru says. His hands are right under your heavy breasts now, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the fat that can’t be contained by the flimsy material. He weighs them in his palms, bouncing them up and down. Above the water, the tops emerge, all wet and shiny. Satoru can’t tear his eyes away. His friend continues, "Though, between you and me, he might actually really like that fact.”

Satoru doesn’t deny that. He only ruts his cock harder against your stomach through the thin layer of his shorts. 

“I’m much older than you,” you say, reaching for anything that might dissuade them. 

The man in front of you snorts. “Duh. We can tell that much.”

You don’t know why that offends you. But it does. 

Before you can process what you’re doing, your palm makes contact with his cheek. Redness blossoms on the pale surface. Satoru’s face has whipped to the side. He blinks, processing what just happens, as you do. A tongue pokes through the injured cheek. He tests the sting, the corner of his lip twitching. 

Someone laughs behind you. “You’ve done it now, pretty girl.”

When bright blue eyes pierce you — an almost deranged smirk warping his face into something older, something more authoritative than you — you realise the truth behind Suguru’s remark. 

You really have done it now. 

“You’ve given me a booboo,” he says, putting on a baby voice to mock how you hide between the age difference. “You should make me feel better, right, mom-my?”

“Oh goodness…”

His hands leave your hips, fumbling for something in the water. Though the water’s clear, you can’t bring yourself to look down. So it comes as a surprise to you when a long, hot thing slots itself right between your thighs, with the help of Suguru who lifts you up with ease in the water. 

Satoru smushes his face right in between your tits which are drying under the sun now. He thrusts his cock back and forth, rubbing your clothed pussy. A fat cockhead nudges your clit on every return.

You’re panting, holding onto any part of them for purchase. “Wait,” you breathe out. “I’m married! I’m married!”

Too busy mouthing at the salt on your skin, Suguru instead has to reply, “We don’t care. We really. Fucking. Don’t.”

“Yeah,” his friend says, resurfacing from your tits to throw his head back with a groan. The water’s lapping more aggressively, disrupted by his thrusting and your squirming. “Your husband’s an ass who can’t appreciate when he has a great one right in front of him. If he won’t make you feel good, we will.”

“That’s right,” Suguru adds. He grips your chin and brings you to look at him. His lips touch your lips. He whispers against them, “You just have to let us.”

One of his arms is wrapped under your breasts, pushing them up for Satoru to rest his face on as he keeps rubbing his cock between your thighs. The other releases your chin to grope one tit. His blunt nail scratches a hard bud through the material. 

You moan. 

It’s too late to pretend you’re not soaked, that you’re not manically pleased with their attraction, with the feel of their hard bodies pinning you between them, that you don’t want this so bad. 

No one will know. 

No one has to.

It’ll be your dirty, little secret that you’ll pull whenever you’re at your very lowest. 

With that decision made, you surge to kiss Suguru, who wastes no time in deepening the kiss. His tongue pushes in, licking and tasting. He’s readily groping your tit under the top, pinching and flicking your nipples. Satoru squeezes the other, lifting it out of the water to suck at it, uncaring of the taste of sea water.

Too much is happening at once. 

It’s crazy.

Insane. 

And so fucking good. 

Suguru shoves Satoru back so he can slide his hand inside your bottom. He finds your clit with ease, spreading your puffy lips with two fingers and rubbing the bundle of nerves with the middle. All while, his lips haven’t left yours. He’s sucking all your oxygen out, threatening to drown you in his taste.

Somewhat aggrieved, Satoru complains, “Hey! Don’t monopolise her. You have to share, Suguru!”

You pull away a little to say, “Yes, Suguru. You have to share. Be my good boys, won’t you?”

Both of them groan. 

He lets Satoru’s fingers join him in playing with your pussy. Satoru hooks the bikini to the side. His fingers bump into his friend’s before it finds your entrance. 

“Ngh! Please! Harder. Deeper,” you mewl.

Satoru’s fingers are so long. They’re stretching your pussy out, inch by inch, till they’re buried at the hilt and curling up against that gummy spot inside you that has you seeing starfishes in your hazy vision. 

In tandem, they finger you — one massaging your g-spot and making good on his promise at being skilled at internal massages, and the other rubbing your clit so expertly you can’t do anything but throw your head back and wail wantonly. 

One of them, at this point you don’t care who, sucks and licks at the length of your neck.

Where did you get the courage to be so whorish, to boss them around like you’re their mother?

It hardly makes sense to you. 

Neither does the searching your hands do under the water. 

You find their cocks. One is already out, bobbing. The other you have to maneuver out of its confines in his swim trunks. They both whine your name out when they feel you wrap your hands around their length. 

Now, you’re no stranger to dicks. 

These two may be bolder and more shameless, but you know how to please a man. You know that you gotta squeeze their cocks just right, gotta rub your palm over their tips, thumb the slit and spread their pre-cum under their cockhead. You know how to toe the fine line between pain and pleasure, and which of them prefers to lean towards the other.

“Oh s-shit,” Satoru stutters.

The other sucks in a sharp breath.

Satoru’s nose pushes your bikini cover off one of your tits. He wastes no time sucking your nipple, but it’s not like how your husband used to suck on your breast. It’s more eager, more feral, as though he’s sure if he sucks hard enough milk will actually come out. 

“That’s it, baby,” you mutter, arching your chest out to feed him your breast. “Suck mommy’s titty. Such a good boy.”

In your grip, his cock throbs. So does the other. 

Seems like it’s not just Satoru who has a mommy kink.

Despite your relentless attacks on their cocks, their fingers don’t quit. They keep teasing your pussy just right. You ride their wrists. Your moans melt with theirs under the sun’s watchful gaze, and who knows how many other people’s. 

If only your husband can see how desired you are, can see your face scrunch up in pleasure he’s never given you, how easily men half his age can find your clit.

“Cum, pretty,” Suguru groans out. 

“Yeah,” Satoru says. “Wanna feel you -hah- tighten around my fingers. Wanna know how you’ll feel on my cock.”

Almost as though their voices carry a special power, your body listens.

The orgasm takes you by surprise, not from its suddenness — it’s been building for a while now — but from the sensation itself. It’s been years since your back’s arched, since your toes have curled, your lower belly has cramped, bolts of electricity ran through your veins, and your clit’s throbbed. You hardly recognise the maddening gloriousness. And yet, when it washes over you, it’s a very welcome return. 

“T-that’s it,” someone says. “Such a good girl.”

“Mm, bet your husband’s never touched you as good, has he? Bet he’s scared of pussies, which is ironic because he is one,” the other boy snickers.

If they expect you to come to your husband’s defence, then you only disappoint them. 

Meanwhile, your hands haven’t stopped. They only jerk them off faster and harder, till their snarky words die out and turn into whimpery moans. 

Soon, they cum at the same time.

Ropes of pearlescent cum jet out into the water, dissipating.

The three of you stumble onto a massive rock in the water you hadn’t even realised you’d been hiding behind. How long ago did you get pushed over here, far from the rest of the beach where it’s most crowded? Does it matter?

Here, seemingly a mile away from where you started, the water’s at thigh level. 

You’re so heated everywhere you can’t even tell the difference between the warm water and the warm air. It’s all the same to you now, especially when you’re distracted by the unceasing roving of their hands which touch you everywhere they can reach. 

“Where are your manners, boys? Didn’t anyone tell you to buy a girl dinner first?”

Satoru bites his smiling lip. 

Suguru chuckles. 

“You are our dinner.” The former smashes his face into yours, robbing you of breath. “You’re absolutely stunning. The literal woman of my dreams,” he says in between kisses, when you need to gulp for air. “Knew as soon as I saw you from afar that I wanted you to spank me, to ruin my life.”

That’s a real nice thought…

With an innate rhythm, they swap places — Suguru’s now in front of you, pressing gentle kisses on your cheeks and on your jawline, whilst Satoru’s groping your tits from behind. He rubs his already-growing-hard cock on your ass. 

Oh, the wonder of youth. 

Suguru rests his big hand on the back of your head. “Down, pretty. Put your ass out for me.” You allow him to push you down. You hold onto Satoru’s thigh, addicted to how you’re being bossed around by men younger than you, bent into place for their use. When satisfied, he says, “Such a well-behaved mother you are. I’m sure your kids take after you, huh?”

He palms the globes of your ass, thumbs tucking under your bikini bottom as he appreciates the roundness of your behind. 

In front of you, Satoru’s jerking himself off. A bead of pre pools out from his bubblegum pink tip. He taps the cockhead on your lips. You kitten lick his slit, making sure to really get in here. He lets out a, “Jeez, your husband’s an idiot. He’s missing out on a special grade woman here.” He peers down at you, grinning. “Is your mouth as talented as the rest of you, mama? Gonna suck my dick, hmm?”

What choice do you have other than to take that impressive cock down your throat?

Opening your mouth nice and wide, you try to swallow as much of his length as you can. Satoru holds your face in place so he can push himself in little by little. He tastes salty, but you can’t tell if it’s because of his skin, his pre-cum, or because of the sea. Maybe all three. 

Behind you, Suguru’s breath blows on your sensitive skin. “Gonna let me taste you, pretty girl?”

“Tell me how hot MILF pussy is, Suguru,” his friend demands, pale abs contracting with the fight not to cum too soon. His muscular thighs help keep your balance, and when you accidentally dig your nails too hard after he hits the back of your throat by accident, you’re surprised to hear him whimper, “Ngh, mommy!” Then he groans. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing.”

Suguru laughs. “Embrace the kink, Satoru. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Shut up.”

It’s weird, now that you think about it, that someone other than your children is calling you mommy. Even weirder than it’s not a child at all. Though oddly, you don’t mind it. Perhaps you’d even go as far as to say that it’s turning you on.

What can only be Suguru’s nose traces your slit through the swimsuit. His hands grip your thighs, squeezing the ample flesh there like it’s a stress toy. A drop of trepidation clutches your chest; what if you smell bad? What if they find the pussy that’s birthed three children unattractive? 

When he gets his fill of your scent, and lets out an, “Oh god,” your worries evaporate in the scorching heat of his undeniable desire for you. 

You expect him to pull the gusset to the side, just as Satoru had done earlier, but he surprises you instead by untying, with far too much ease, your bottoms entirely. Cool air wafts through your heated folds. Your whole body shakes. 

What if someone wanders over to where you three are? 

There’ll be no hiding, no explaining why you’re bare down there. 

Suguru parts your lips for his eyes and you forget all about the law. He says, “Her pussy’s as pretty as the rest of her, Satoru. So wet and needy. And look at her adorable clit, pulsing my name.”

“You mean, my name,” Satoru counters, hips rutting inside your hot mouth. He pets your hair and coos down at you, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Loves Young Dick? Mrs. Hates Her Husband’s Tiny, Wrinkled Dick?”

He’s having too much fun lording his power over you. He needs to be punished — you massage his balls with one hand, rolling the heavy sack in your palm, and allowing your fingers to brush over the puckering hole hidden away. 

“S-shit!”

Satoru’s knees quiver, threatening to buckle from under him. An attack on his tip with your swirling tongue, on his balls, and his asshole is too much for anyone, no matter how virile. But you don’t want him to cum yet. It’d be too early so you let his balls go and focus on staying balanced behind the big rock that covers all three of you from view of the whole beach. 

A tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance, scooping a mouthful of your overflowing wetness. 

Suguru groans. 

His whole face is buried between your cheeks, lapping up your juices as though he’s dehydrated. That skillful tongue of his rubs your clit in tight circles just how you like it, giving enough pressure for you to feel already close to cumming. 

It flicks up and down, pushing the nerves there to their limits. 

Your legs quiver. You shuffle on your feet, undecided between pushing back so he’d get even deeper or pulling away from the unbearable bliss. Your moans come out muffled. The vibrations have Satoru’s hips jolting deeper inside you, bruising your throat. 

Suguru worms the wet appendage in your cunt, licking your pillowy walls. He moans straight inside you. You feel the vibrations there shoot through your body, up your spine, and go straight to your head. 

Someone, or both of them, plays with your swinging tits. You don’t have it in you to feel any embarrassment at how they’re saggier than the breasts women their age have. Not when they make no mention of it. Only the sounds of their pleased groans at the feel of every part of you reaches your ears. 

They pull both of your tits out of the confines of the bikini top, allowing them easy access to your nipples, which they rub and pull and flick as they please.

Distantly, you can still hear the thrum of life on the beach, of people playing in the water, of waves crashing on the rocks. Under you, the mid-thigh level water gently laps at your body, grazing your nipples delectably.

“She tastes like the finest wine, Satoru,” Suguru says. His hand has rounded your belly, pressing up at your pelvis. You gasp around his friend’s cock. The urge to pee has arisen, and it’s making you delirious. 

Above you, he makes a disgusted sound. “Ugh, don’t describe her pussy juice with alcohol. Describe it in terms of candy. How sweet is she, Sugu?”

“The sweetest,” he answers, unbothered by Satoru’s peculiar demands. “Here, taste her.” Suguru stands, rubbing his bare cock over your drenched pussy lips. His cockhead catches on your clit and you find your hips grinding back, seeking out that incredible hardness. 

You don’t know what happens above you. But you can imagine, from the sudden wet smacking sounds and the dirty groans they both make, that Suguru’s giving Satoru a taste of your pussy which he had collected on his tongue. Somehow, that has you clenching on air. 

“Sweet,” Satoru gasps. “So sweet. Fuck, Suguru, I can’t take any more of this. I wanna feel her. Wanna be inside her.” 

“Me too,” Suguru says, grabbing his cock and tapping it up against your clit. You feel wet strings form and break, splashing a little onto your skin. Or maybe it’s just the sea. 

Satoru pulls himself from your throat, jerking his cock at the sight of your swollen, glossy lips which the tip is bumping. Finally, you get a reprieve for your sore throat. You greedily gulp air down, overwhelmed by the devastating emptiness you find inside you now. 

The other man gathers your wet hair and tugs you up, back flushed against hard chest. Satoru squeezes your heaving tits, bending down to blow raspberries between. He’s motorboating you. Like an idiot. 

Just as Suguru had done to you, you yank him by his hair and drag his face to yours. You kiss him. He quickly reacts, moaning into your mouth. It’s a sloppy kiss. All tongue, saliva dripping down chins, and at one point, he even sucks your outstretched tongue like it’s a cock. 

It’s obvious these boys must have been playing with themselves when they don’t have a woman to torture. 

Lucky.

“Up,” Suguru says.

You jump into Satoru’s arms, legs wrapping around his narrow hips. Wet tits get squashed against his chest. Hard nipples scrape slippery skin. 

Someone cock prods your pulsing entrance. You pant for it, desperate to feel full, to feel cock that isn’t your husband’s, cock that you know will reach the deepest parts of you and will have you feeling it for days. 

But then…

Another cock prods your entrance too.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out. “You can’t both fit inside me!”

“Shhh, pretty girl. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you. We’ll make it fit,” Suguru says, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“You’re a champ,” Satoru adds, with a shit-eating grin. He licks a stripe up your cheek, as though it’s revenge for what you had done to his no-longer-pink-from-the-slap-only-from-arousal-cheek. “You can take us, can’t you?” he asks. He’s put on that baby voice again. “Mommy won’t disappoint us, will she?”

Swallowing a moan down, you say, “I-I can try.”

“Atta girl,” they say in unison. 

Together, they push in. 

Your nails dig into Satoru's back, no doubt leaving pink crescents. You grit your teeth. The pressure is intense. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s far too much too fast. You cry out, “I can’t do it!”

Suguru mumbles into your ear, though he’s struggling too, “It’s a-alright. Just breathe.”

You’ve already gone this far, already done things you would have never thought to do before you left the hotel room an hour or two ago. This can’t be where you give up. You want everything they have to offer, and if your boys want to feel you at the same time, then that’s what you’ll give them.

It seems like another hour passes under the blaring sun before they stop pushing in. When you peer down between your body and Satoru’s, you’re bewildered at the sight of his cock not even being half way in. 

Yet, they’re satisfied. 

For now. 

Slowly, they both start rocking in. Gently. Carefully. Testing the waters. 

It’s not an easy fit.

Still, nothing could hurt as much as labour, so this isn’t too bad for you. Somewhere beyond the sting, there’s a blooming pleasure. Perhaps born from the depravity of having cocks that aren’t your husband inside you, cocks belonging to men much younger than you, and from being fucked by two men somewhere you could be caught. 

Satoru kisses you to distract you from the slight pain at having two cocks impossibly lodged inside you. And as quick as his lips arrived, Suguru’s stealing yours. Then Satoru’s again. Suguru’s. Satoru’s. Back and forth, you alternate between them, becoming lightheaded at the constant twisting and turning and from the sensation of great pressure pushing deeper inside your belly. 

Your eyes, which you hadn’t realised had closed, open to find the two boys liplocked. This is what you didn’t get to see though you so badly wanted to earlier — their pink lips wrapping around each other, the glimpses of tongues tangling together, of passionate moans mingling. 

They kiss like they’ve been doing this for years. 

Their cocks pulse inside you. 

You lean close, joining in their makeout. Resembling puzzle pieces, you three slot together perfectly. Tongue meeting each other and you don’t know who’s where and what, only that everything everywhere feels good. 

With final groans, they bury themselves to the hilt. 

“Oh fuck,” the three of you moan in unison.

Quickly, a rhythm’s built up. They thrusts in turns, as though sawing your gummy walls. With how far they’ve stretched you, you feel your anal walls stimulated by their ploughing, and it’s incredible. 

Maybe you should care that they’re not wearing condoms. But you don’t. Because feeling them bare is wonderful — their veins, the ridges, the flared out cockheads that scrape your walls. It’s all so fucking good. 

Your clit grinds at Satoru’s pelvis whenever he rams his cock into the very base. 

Lips suck your neck, your nape, your tongue, your lips, everywhere they can reach. And you’re pulling hair, scratching backs, bouncing down on cocks in their arms. 

“Take a picture of me on this rock.”

The three of you still.

There’s people on the other side. 

You can hear them splashing around as they adjust themselves. There’s also laughter. Voices from people their age. They don’t know you’re behind the rock, do they? They haven’t seen a glimpse of you three? Didn’t hear your lewd moaning and the squelching and fwop! fwop! fwopping! of wet skin against wet skin?

In your chest, your heart pounds so loudly you think it might give you away. 

“Don’t make a sound,” Satoru mouths. Though as he says that, his hips are still rocking inside you, barely perceptible but definitely there. 

Behind you, Suguru’s no better. His hands are playing with your tits, pulling the buds till they stretch out obscenely, till you’re writhing on their dicks and having to bite down on your lip to stop the whines escaping and blowing your cover. 

They’re more badly behaved than your kids. 

But you’re no rational adult either; you keep bouncing in their arms, riding their cocks as you chase your high. “Don’t -hngh!- stop,” you plead. “It’s so good. So, so, so good!”

Conversations continue on on the other side, as do the clicking of the camera. If they decide to step around the rock, they’re going to get a photo-ful of bare skin, more than what any beach-goers are currently showing. 

None of you care. 

All the three of you want is to cum. 

“D-don’t -fuck- clench down so hard,” Suguru quietly grits out, teeth skimming your shoulder in his effort not to be too loud.

Satoru agrees, long, white lashes fluttering, “Y-yeah, you’re too –hic!– tight already.”

You can’t help it, you wanna say, but what you can only manage is a garbled apology.

In a matter of a couple seconds, your grinding and their thrusting and the moaning and the bouncing speed up to an irregular, erratic rhythm. You’re just doing whatever feels good now, fuck the other people near you. 

Their cockheads keep bumping your g-spot, pushing in so deep inside you you swear you can feel them in your lungs. Their lips suck, their tongues lick, teeth bite, fingers pinch and pull, and rub, hands squeezing and groping and yanking, with pleasure building and building and building until it bursts! 

Your orgasm hits you like a tempest. 

Spasms wrack your body, as do theirs. 

The three of you tremble against each other, moaning and groaning under your breaths.

Your toes curl so hard you almost get a cramp. Your back arches till you’re shoving your tits in Satoru’s face, not that he complains — he can smother his high-pitched whimper in the mounds of your breasts. Your pussy pulses in time with their throbbing. 

“So tight!” one gasps.

“Can’t -hah- breathe. Can’t -hngh- think!”

Hot cum spurts inside you, in double the serving. They paint your walls white, flooding your cunt, tickling your inside. It drives a mini orgasm out of you. Something just as hot splashes all over your skin and theirs. Is it you, Satoru, the sea? 

You lose yourself in them, in their bodies, their taste lingering on your tongue, in the cursed bliss they gifted you.  

The very best orgasm of your entire life has pulled you under water, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the sea. 

No more sound is made from the other side. Maybe they were scared off by the sounds you three made, maybe they left long ago, maybe they’re still there. At least, no one’s come to bust you face-to-face. No lifeguard yelling and telling you the police is coming, no unfortunate family scarred for life. 

It all worked out for itself.

There’s a smile on your face when you’re gently placed back on your feet. It widens after every kiss they leave on your lips in gratitude. 

Suguru rakes a hand through his hair, pushing unruly strands back. He mirrors your expression as he touches between your legs. He feels the searing cum dripping out of you, and fucks it back inside with his thick fingers. “Told you we’d make it fit.”

“Yes, you did,” you say, laughing and moaning simultaneously with the last thrums of pleasure left inside you. 

Satoru yanks that hand out and shoves it into his own mouth, heartily sucking on the mixed juices. “Mmm. Salty.”

You’re flushed, entranced by the sight. 

They’re filthier than any other man you’ve met. 

And more gentlemanly too — they find your bottoms for you, putting back it in place, the same with your bikini top, before they tuck themselves back in their shorts. Within minutes, any evidence of your wrongdoings is swept away by the current, with only the sun as your witness.

“Thank you,” you tell them. Sincerity coats the words. 

They brought to life something you thought had been dead a long time ago, something that maybe was never alive inside you, something that a loveless marriage had buried. They reminded you you are a woman, not just a wife or a mother. 

You have worth. 

You have value. 

You can start over again.

When wetness clings to your lashes, their gazes soften. 

Suguru tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re going to be alright, pretty girl.”

“The whole world’s your oyster,” Satoru adds, nodding proudly. “Always was.”

At the same time, they brush away the tears about to fall. They suck the wetness coating their skin, releasing satisfied sounds at your saltiest taste. 

Everything that happens after that is a blur. 

Maybe you continued playing in the water with them for another couple hours. Maybe you fucked them in turns. And at the same time again. Maybe you went back to your lounge chair straight away and napped the rest of the time.

It’s hard to tell. 

The only thing you remember after is being woken up by your three children shaking you. 

You stand, stretching your weary limbs, cover-up forgone. Your parents look tired, the kind of tired a long day taking care of children creates, which you know all too well. You give them an apologetic smile. They reject it with a shake of their heads, as though saying, ‘you never need to thank us.’

“Mommy, mommy, we collected sea shells and got ice cream and buried granddad in the sand!” one of them tells you, pulling at your arm. “We had the greatest day ever!”

You smile down at him. “Oh, very good, sweetheart.”

“It was awesome!” the middle child chimes. “A seagull tried to take my sandwich but I shooed it away, mommy!”

“How brave,” you say, pinching his chubby cheek. 

The oldest gives you a disappointed look. “Were you just sleeping, mommy? That’s not good. You wasted a whole day at the beach!”

Ruffling her hair, you say, “You got me. But I don’t think it was a waste.” 

Though you feel thoroughly spent, you’re pleased to discover a renewed energy inside you. You pack up faster than you thought you would, you chat with your kids and catch up with your parents, and look forward to dinner, musing what it’d be.

To all three of them, and to your parents, you ask, “Okay, ready to go back to the hotel?”

Their simultaneous yawns are your answer.

Your family makes its way to the road back, trudging, exhausted, through the heavy sand with the sun about to set and people staying back to watch the sky explode in orange and pink. 

Bags in your arms, you look back, unable to resist the allure.

The two of them are already looking at you. They’re dressed in the same clothes they had been when they first introduced themselves — hoodie adorned, hair tied up, and sunglasses on. They lift the coconut cups they were sipping high up in the air in what you know to be both a salute and a goodbye. 

One of your kids grabs your attention. 

Something calls you to look back one more, only seconds later. When you do, you’re not very shocked to find them gone from their place at the hut. Disappeared. As though they were never there in the first place. 

In the distance, on the water which reflects the sun’s warm glow back, you see two sparkles, like stars that guide lost souls in the dark. 

You face forward, smiling.

You can’t explain what happened today to anyone. Not when you can’t even explain it to yourself. It can just remain as a precious memory, one that might fade into a thing that you’ll convince yourself was real when it starts to feel like a dream. After all, there’s a beauty in forgetting the details, of the hows and the whos and the where and whens, but not the why.

Because the why will forever be engrained in your very soul. 

Safe to say, then, you won’t be forgetting about your day at the beach any time soon.

You can mark it as the day you decided to file for divorce. 

“Morning, baby.” Geto says softly, making his way to the bed, following your other boyfriend. Gojo sits onto the warm sheets and flicks on the lamp on the nightstand, but Geto remains standing, his eyes gliding down your barely-clothed body. As a result of the cold early morning air, your nipples are hard, poking through the fabric. You spread your legs, exposing your wet pussy—still warm from sleep—inviting them both. Geto palms himself through his pants, and Gojo looks absolutely captivated by the sight, unable to avert his eyes. He hooks his fingers under his waistband before struggling out of his pants, still kneeled on the edge of the bed. His prominent bulge strains against the fabric of his briefs, but he gives it quick relief as he strips down to nothing, letting his heavy cock spring out. Simultaneously, Geto tugs both his sweats and his boxers off in one fluid motion, stepping out of them and standing up straight even with his already-hard cock twitching freely in the open air. He finally climbs onto the bed to pull your sleepwear over your head, leaving your chest bare. Your eyes flicker between them two, waiting for one of them to do something. Geto moves forward and pushes two fingers inside of you as Gojo’s hands come up to fondle your tits.

“Satoru. Feel this,” Geto’s chuckle makes your ears perk up, and you try to see what he could be talking about. One of Gojo’s hands releases you to press his fingers against your clit, and a smug grin crosses his face.

“Bet you want us inside you pretty bad right now, huh?” His satisfaction is evident in his voice and his teasing tone. You don’t care; you nod desperately, opening your legs even wider. Given the chance, Geto slips another finger in, curling them deeper into you. You barely conceal a moan as you squeeze your thighs together, trapping his arm. Gojo pries your legs open, freeing Geto’s forearm, and maneuvers so that his cock is lined up along your entrance. He immediately slams his hips into yours, unable to control himself, causing you to cry out. He lifts you up with ease, standing next to the bed, so that your arms have to wrap around his neck for support and your legs rest on his arms. Just as you’re about to ask what Geto what he’s doing, you feel his chest press up to your back. His massive cock nudges into your back entrance.

“Suguru.. Wait—” You stumble over your words in a panic.

“Something wrong?” His voice is right up against your ear.

“I’ve never done anything there,” Your embarrassed voice is barely audible.

“It’ll feel good, I promise. If you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?” He reassures you. Hesitantly, you nod, bracing yourself for pain. When he eases the tip into you, a sharp pang shoots through your body, causing you to shiver. However, he doesn’t seem to notice, as he pushes deeper, and you decide not to say anything. With the help of lube and precum, his cock actually goes in fairly easily. Meanwhile, Gojo’s distracted by his own impatience. All he can do while he waits for you to adjust to Geto’s cock is make small, eager thrusts into the heat of your pussy. When your ass makes contact with Geto’s pelvis, he pauses, letting you acclimate to the pressure. The preceding painful feeling has faded, thankfully, and now you’re left yearning for friction. You squirm as you feel both their cocks pulsating through the thin wall between your holes. Gojo quickly grows tired of waiting; He pulls out half his cock to ram it back into you, making Geto, still standing motionless, let out a loud groan.

“Fuck, Satoru, what do you think you’re doing?” He directs at Gojo, who’s wearing a lazy grin, before turning his attention back to you. “You okay?”

In response, you attempt to grind your hips, and fail due to the proximity of the both of them.

“Yeah? You wanna move?” Gojo asks with a smirk. Before you or Geto can protest, Gojo drags your bodies down onto the sheets. Now on top of Gojo with Geto still inside and right behind you, you have a bit more freedom of movement. Again, you try to lift yourself up to ride Gojo, but you struggle with both their cocks now halfway inside you. Giving up with a frustrated huff, you flop onto him and lay on his chest, one of your cheeks squished against his pec. When you look up, he’s barely holding back a laugh, his torso trembling with the effort. You scoff, too desperate to be fucked to scold him for finding your situation funny.

“Don’t worry, baby. Pretty girls don’t have to know what to do on top. Isn’t that right?“ From behind you, Geto soothes you with a hand rubbing your shoulder, but it feels backhanded. Too busy trying to think of a response, you stay silent, your head still rested on Gojo’s chest. That’s when Geto suddenly pulls you back by your hair, so far back that your back is forced into an arch and your ass presses against him.

“I’m talking to you here, pretty girl. Answer me.” His tone is harsh. You squirm in an attempt to break free, but with Geto’s fist in your hair and Gojo’s hands tightening on your waist and therefore holding you in place, you’re forced to say something back.

“Yes..” Your answer is quiet, your attention focused on something else: your fingers trying to pry his off, but he’s not letting go.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite hear that. Could you repeat it for me?” He mocks, pulling you back even farther so that you’re almost face to face.

“Yes—Suguru! You’re right. You’re right!” You’re almost screaming, straining to be free of the ache. It hurts, so much that you feel tears coming to your eyes. A few drops stream freely, flowing down the sides of your face. Finally, he plants a kiss on the back of your neck as the thumb of his free hand swipes away at the tears. He readjusts his hold, loosening a bit so that it doesn’t hurt as much. Gojo, with his hands still on your waist, lowers you so that his full cock is now inside of your pussy. Geto’s hand, the one that isn’t in your hair, goes down to his cock. He, too, thrusts fully inside of you, just in a different hole. Just as you think they’re about to move, Gojo lets out a low involuntary groan.

You look down at him, confused, but his eyes aren’t on you. They’re trained on the area between your hips, and you feel one of his hands let go of your waist to nudge at Geto. Looking over your shoulder, Geto sees what Gojo’s looking at. A print of a bulge pressed flat, and one above it, less flat. Speechless, Geto reaches around, his pointer finger circling the top impression gently. Gojo, on the other hand, presses a thumb to the lower one and rubs it into your skin, as if trying to push his own cock back out of your pussy. The sensation continues building up, and you let out a broken whimper, so close to cumming from basically foreplay. It’s in vain, however, as their focus is still on the marks through your skin.

Curious, Geto pulls out halfway before thrusts back in, just to watch the bulge disappear then quickly poke out again. Gojo, too, does the same, but keeps his hand on your stomach—which means that when he slams back in deep, his hand pushes down on your pelvis. It’s a jarring feeling, and you probably would have jolted, hard, if not for their steadily-growing grips on your body. Again, your eyes grow wet with tears, this time from frustration and lack of their attention rather than pain. Finally, Gojo lifts you up slightly, so that he can buck his hips up, pounding his cock into your pussy so fast the tears fall. They drip and land directly onto his sculpted abs, but he ignores them, a delirious grin coming to his face in between his moans. Similarly, Geto pulls all the way out and hammers his length into your ass. Granted, it’s at a slower pace than Gojo’s, but that's mostly because Geto’s still trying to account for the fact that it’s your first time taking it up that hole. You can feel yourself getting close, the sounds in the room—the slapping of skin against skin, the wet squelches of both your holes, their noises of pleasure—doing nothing but pushing you closer.

You’re probably accidentally clenching on both of them, judging by the way Gojo suddenly slows down and lets out a strung out groan, and the way Geto hides a moan into your shoulder. Your orgasm comes so fast you don’t even have a chance to warn them; white-hot sensations vibrate through every nerve of your body as you whimper and moan, writhing uncontrollably. At his breaking point, Gojo soon follows with a groan turning into a cry, filling up your pussy with the transparent liquid.

“Shit.. You look so gorgeous like this, so fucked-out—” is all Geto manages to get out between moans before he paints your insides with his cum. He’s still kissing your nape messily, even while his cock stretches you and twitches in the midst of his release. They’re both left panting, layers of sweat on all three of your bodies, as they let their cocks soften inside your holes. Exhausted, you climb off of Gojo and lay next to him, with Geto sitting on the edge of the bed in a drained daze. Feeling the liquid leaking out of you, you squeeze your thighs tight together, refusing to let it out to the best of your ability. Geto notices and reaches into a nearby drawer, pulling out a discreet plug. Wordlessly, he drags you by the legs over to him, and slips it into your ass before placing a kiss on your inner thigh. Still coming down from your high, you stay quiet and don’t protest. Instead, when he’s done, you climb back amongst the covers and curl into Gojo’s welcoming arms.

───────────━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━───────────

A few hours later, you wake up alone, with both men gone. Looking down, you’re grateful to see that you’re clothed. Groggily, you climb out of bed and wander around the house silent as a mouse, following the scent of food. When you arrive to the dining room, you’re surprised to see heaps of gift boxes on the table, so much that you accidentally make a floorboard creak under you when you try to step closer. Geto immediately pokes his head out of the kitchen and spots you.

“Shit..” He mutters, making his way over to you, then calls out. “Satoru!”

Gojo walks in from the kitchen, annoyed, until he also sees you. He curses under his breath and tries to turn you around, but it’s too late. He knows it, and he steps out of your way and behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Happy birthday, pretty girl,” Geto says with a kiss on your lips.

“What are those for?” You ask, fixated on the giant pile of boxes with tags with your name on them.

“Your birthday, dumbass,” You can practically hear Gojo rolling his eyes behind you, like you should have expected them to get you presents.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

taglist: @sukunaandgojolover

masterlist

TW: MINORS DNI

lowkey crack taken deadly serious, chubby!reader, no curses, threesome, fat shaming, body shaming, noncon, noncon fetish (specifically gojo, he's really into this so double TW), drugged sex, rough sex, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, blood

A/N: New jjk series. The plot for this is stupid and I did not think it through, but that's nothing new. I know people have been wanting more bully Gojo, but I wanted to explore a different dynamic featuring a complicated relationship between Satoru and Suguru. But as always, I will make sure that they are both driven insane by the reader simply existing. Enjoy :)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Being able to get away with anything is...unbelievably boring.

Satoru wished his life were more exciting. Or, well, maybe less predictable. 

The girl on the bed was out cold. Satoru had found her there after stumbling in himself, wanting to get away from the noise. And the lights, god. People loved Satoru's eyes, but he hated how sensitive they were. 

It was dark in this room, at least. Satoru couldn't really see what you looked like, your face cast aside on the pillow, shadowed. He could see the outline of your body though. Not anything interesting to him. 

He didn't care either, and shoved you over a ways across the bed so he had space to lay down. Your torso ended up halfway off the edge, your head lolling backwards. Satoru snorted, before flopping back and closing his eyes. 

After a while of listening to the muffled sounds of the party, and your snoring, the door opened. Someone entered the room, and walked over to the bed. Weight settled on the end of it.

"This looks disastrous, even for you Satoru," Suguru said.

Satoru blinked at the dark ceiling, confused, "Huh?"

"I didn't think you had it in you, honestly,"

Satoru groaned and sat up, looking between Suguru and you, still hanging over the right edge of the bed. 

"Dude, she's a fucking pig,"

Suguru looked down at you, "Hm,"

"I don't even know how she got that dress on," he said, before squinting at your face.

Your eyes were open.

"What's up with her?" Satoru asked. 

"Someone drugged her probably," Suguru said.

Satoru burst out laughing, "Who the fuck would drug someone like her?" 

Suguru shrugged, but Satoru continued, "Clearly he sobered up before he could finish the job, her clothes are still on," 

"Yeah, right," Suguru said. 

Satoru settled down after a while, back resting against the headboard. 

"Wait a sec," he said, "What did you mean you 'didn't think I had it in me'?"

Suguru huffed a laugh, turning to leave, "You get hung up on the most random things, I'm going back down,"

"Aw, Sugu, come on," Satoru whined, "You think I'm some kind of wuss or what?"

"Wuss?"

"I've never had to do anything like that to anyone Sugu,"

"But would you ever want to?" Suguru prodded. 

Satoru thought about it. He'd technically gotten away with worse. But he just never had the urge. Any sexual desires he had were always reciprocated just as much or more so than the other person. 

He looked down at you again and grimaced, "Even if I did, I wouldn't take the risk with someone like her, I have standards,"

"Exactly," Suguru said, "Which makes her the best target."

Satoru was too drunk for this, "Huh?"

"Let me just, dumb it down to your level, 'She's not fuckable, so why would anyone think you fucked her?'"

Satoru nodded, "Yeah, true. And I'm the fuckable...est, it's like, two different sides of the fuckable spectrum."

"I regret using that word," Suguru said.

"Fuck you dude," Satoru slurred, "You think I'm too pussy to commit a felony?"

"Honestly no," Suguru chuckled, "It's just, you keep saying you've been 'so totally unbelievably bored' lately, and you only take my most extreme suggestions,"

"You only give extreme suggestions,"

"I distinctly remember you responding to my golfing invitation the other day with, 'No, gay and boring,'"

"Cause golf is gay and boring!" Satoru exclaimed, before sighing. He looked over at you again. 

"You think it's different from just fucking a girl regular?"

"Well, she's passed out so,"

"No, her eyes are open," Satoru says. 

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Your eyes had been open. You'd been awake, and far more aware than your body felt. You couldn't move, or really speak. Your heart was beating quickly. You were hanging off the bed, only now starting to understand the conversation the two strangers in the room were having.

"She looks scared," One voice said, smooth and low.

"Yeah?" The other asked. 

You were yanked back up the bed by your ankle. You grunted as your head bumped against the edge of the mattress as it was pulled along with the rest of you. Your view shifted, and your heart began to outright pound, pushing roaring blood through your ears.

Two men loomed above you. It was dark, and you couldn't make either of them out. Only that they were big, way bigger than you. 

You tried to squirm or wiggle, but couldn't. The conversation resumed, and it took everything in you to focus on their words.

"Why would I like that she's afraid?" The one closest to you asks, sounding irritated. His hand was still clasped around your ankle. 

"Because it means she knows what you're capable of," the other responds, low and goading. 

"Ugh you and your fucking..." the man holding your ankle half chuckles, half purred. 

"It'd be easy Satoru," the other man said, "She's nothing, probably just some college bitch that came here with her friends,"

"Hn," Satoru's grip on your ankle tightened. You felt your breath pick up in terror. 

"Look how she's breathing," the other man circled around the bed and stood behind Satoru, "Terrified,"

"Cause I'm scary," Satoru giggled dazedly, eyes fluttering shut.

"And strong," The other man purred, running a hand up Satoru's other arm. "And what do the strong do,"

"Cull the weak," Satoru panted, head lolling back to rest against the other man's chest. 

"Suguru," Satoru said, his hand moving up your calf, "I'll only do it of you take her with me,"

"Hm. Fine," Suguru said.

"Nnnn...." you tried. 

God how you tried, but your mouth wouldn't form words. The sound was enough to catch their attention, unfortunately. 

"Hii," Satoru said, "I'm taking advantage of you cause you're weak, hehe," 

The grip he had on your thigh turned painful, and you groaned. 

"It's a conquest, treat it like one," Suguru said.

Satoru nodded dazedly, before pausing, "Wait, how?"

Suguru looked down at you, considering. He rounded the bed and climbed onto it, his knees bracketing your head. You watched his hands go for his pants, his long fingers deftly undoing the belt. 

Your breath quickened, and you flinched at the feeling of another hand on your thigh.

Flinching, that was a good sign, right? 

"Need help Sugu?" Satoru asked. 

Suguru hummed, letting his belt clatter to the floor and unzipping his fly, "Hold her mouth open,"

Satoru nodded, and reached down to open your mouth wide enough for Suguru's cock.

It was in your mouth and down your throat in an instant.

"They say chubby ones give the best head," Satoru giggled again, "Mmm, why's she look so cute all of the sudden,"

Satoru watched as Suguru forced you to throat his cock. His face was flushed and his pupils were blown at the sight of you, sloppering and choking uselessly because of whatever drugs were in your system, tears slipping down your face. 

"Harder," Satoru breathed, "Fuck her face Suguru," 

Suguru whined, adjusting his hold on your head and pushing somehow further into your throat. You felt your eyes roll back into your skull; your brain was deprived of oxygen. Things looked hazy and skewed, but the sensations were heightened. It was the only concrete information you had. 

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"Fuck fuck, you're raping her so good Sugu," Satoru said. 

His wild eyes roamed over your body, overwhelmed and searching. Grinning, he gripped the fabric of your dress and tore. He laughed in a mix of relief and delirium as your breasts flopped out from the garment, and them in his hands. 

Suguru panted, still working his cock into the delicious heat of your throat. He didn't expect to lose himself like this. He only wanted to see how far he could push Satoru, but the other man always got him riled up in return. 

He didn't find your body all that attractive either, but that was his case with most people, regardless of body type. 

He looked down at your breasts, and watched as they flopped up and down from the motion of him fucking your throat. 

He had to admit that sight wasn't entirely unappealing. But it was nothing compared to Satoru.

Satoru was pulling your panties off, looking more and more into your body by the second. His pink lips curled upward at the sight of your cunt before standing and shoving his pants down. Red was slowly blooming on Satoru's face. He pulled his cock from his boxers and rested it on your tummy. Precum leaked across your skin and into your bellybutton. 

"Fuuuck I think she is my type Sugu," Satoru whined, rutting his cock against your tummy.

"You're just a whore, Satoru," Suguru said.

"Gonna rape you now m'kay? Probably gonna hurt but that's not my problem~" Satoru said in that sing-song voice that meant he was gone. 

Suguru loved this Satoru. So pretty and cruel. Only he could get him like this.

Suguru moaned as your throat began to squeeze his cock. You were trying to speak, but it wouldn't work. Satoru pushed himself inside of you, forcing you open slowly and steadily.

"Sugu look, she's bleeding...mmmfuck she's bleeding on my cock Sugu." Satoru groaned, before starting to fuck you. 

"Probably means she's a virgin," Suguru hummed. 

He arched his back and chased the addictive slide and squeeze of your throat. He said that because he hoped the words would drive Satoru crazy, and he was right.

"Oummphh," Satoru moaned, loudly, like he always did when he was super into it. He slammed his hips down again and again, and Suguru relished the obscene 'plap plap plap' that filled the room. 

"Fuck fuck you know I love virgins Sugu," Satoru nearly sobbed, "Did you do this? Did you drug her for me?"

Suguru grinned, eyes barely open as he paused his thrusting, pubes against your nose, "Hmph, I thought that was obvious. Thought you could use a toy to blow off some steam since you've been so annoying lately."

Satoru laughed, thrusting into your pussy harder and looking down at you. 

"Mmm my little virgin rape toyyy," Satoru cooed sweetly.

God, he was crazy, Suguru loved it more than anything.

Satoru leaned down to slurp at your lips, even though they were occupied by Suguru's cock. Suguru cussed as Satoru's tongue nudged against his cock, before slipping past your lips and wrapping around his thrusting shaft.

"Satoru you fucking...slut," Suguru ou were making noise consistently now, vocal cords vibrating against his cock. Sweet, muffled little moans and squeals rose from your throat, sounds Suguru knew Satoru would chase for the rest of the night. 

"Please creampie her throat Suguru," Satoru panted as he pounded into your cunt, "Wanna see,"

Suguru groaned, sliding his cock as deep as he could down your throat and cumming. It almost hurt, each rope of cum he shot down your throat making his cock ache and pulse.

"Buh," Suguru fell back on his ass, half-hard cock slipping from your lips, covered in a sheen of cum and saliva. 

You coughed weakly, cum gurgling from the sides of your mouth. Satoru was still fucking you, hugging your leg and rutting into your sloppy, blood stained pussy like and animal. Suguru groaned, standing from the bed and circling it to be next to Satoru.

Satoru hummed, pulling Suguru closer by the small of his back and guiding his cock into your pussy alongisde his.

"Fuck--Satoru we shouldn't she's,"

"She's already bleeding, I wanna rape her with you please please Sugu, wanna feel your cock violate her against mine," Satoru rambled. 

Suguru sighed, realizing he might have given Satoru a problematic fetish, but obliged. He slowly slid his half-hard cock inside of your pussy, sighing. His legs already felt like jelly, but this would make him collapse.

"Too much, gonna pull out," Suguru grimaced.

"Nope," Satoru said, gripping Suguru's ass and forcing him to bottom out. 

"Gah!" Suguru gasped as your pussy seized around your cock at the sudden intrusion, crushing it against Satoru's.

Satoru let out a low, sweet sound, and continued thrusting, forcing himself deeper despite your obvious pain and resistance.

"So good so good so good," he murmured, drool spilling from the side of his mouth, "I love this so much Sugu, wanna do it with you always,"

"Ngh, whatever you say," Suguru said. 

He didn't bother moving, opting to let Satoru do all of the work. He couldn't decide which felt better, the velvet shaft pumping against his own or the silky walls of your pussy hugging his cock. So, he closed his eyes and let the sensations consume him.

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Satoru was in heaven. Was this heaven? It had to be.

He would've never thought something could feel so good. But the feeling of your fear, your tears, your tight, quivering pussy, it was amazing. He felt powerful, absolute. He was doing this to you, and you'd take it. Experiencing it with Suguru made it even better.

Now, Satoru thrust madly into your still bleeding pussy, flinching every time his tip brushed against Suguru's. He could feel the other man throbbing and leaking into your cunt, adding to the wetness. Your soft, desperate moans, Satoru's grunting, and Suguru's panting filled the room. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Satoru stilled, pushed deep inside of you, and began to cum. The orgasm was enough to bring on Suguru's second one, and he let his head loll back, tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

"Uuugh," Suguru groaned as a borderline painful orgasm wracked his body. He couldn't go in quick succession as well as Satoru could.

Satoru grabbed the back of Suguru's neck and slotted their lips together, moaning into the other man's mouths as their cocks pulsed against each other. 

They kept kissing for a while, lodged to the hilt in your abused cunt and riding an impossibly good high. 

"Fuuuck," Satoru said after pulling away.

He pulled out of your cunt and whistled, watching globs of pink-tinted semen ooze from your swollen hole. It was gaping, and definitely torn. 

Satoru felt a smile spread across his face, warm satisfaction blooming in his chest. 

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