How Often Will You Repent?

“what if someone dared you to?” to which suguru grimaced at.

“I’m not 15.”

“oh but you wish you were.”

stepping closer to you, making sure that he can still see the pancakes from his spot just in case they burn, suguru bends down to your level. “what does that mean baby?”

you try your best to unaffected by the close proximity, this was your husband for fuck’s sake. but even years later, the brown of his eyes makes you feel weak in the knees.

“you’d be the age where you hadn’t met me yet.” you add with a roll to your eyes, crossing your arms over your puffed out chest.

it catches suguru off guard, but he is clearly enjoying the little show you were putting on. because a few moments later, he is resting his forehead on your shoulder and his entire body trembles.

“what— are you laughing?!”

your husband cradles your face in his hands, pulling away from your shoulder to kiss your lips while you jokingly push him away.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry that was just so—“

“don’t talk to me! you don’t even take me seriously anymore!”

“I do! I just didn’t expect that kind of response.” he tries to reason with you, but to no avail.

and so now you were on the couch pouting, and he was sitting on the other side of the couch with a plate of pancakes.

“are you sure you don’t want some pancakes?”

“I wish I put poison in them.” you mutter under your breath, and suguru still thinks you’re the funniest person alive.

“a murderer announcing how they’re going to kill their target?” he teases, leaning closer to you while you pretend to stare anywhere but at his face.

“yeah and I would make sure no one finds your body.”

“how would you do that, baby?” you raise an eyebrow at him, and he mirrors your action, bringing his face closer to you. “I am kind of a big guy. wouldn’t that be a hassle to you?”

screw him for knowing how to make you fold.

“…I would have anger fueled strength.”

he gasps dramatically. “anger fueled?”

you nod. “because you hate me.”

“because I said I married you.”

“which was basically ignoring the question ‘do you have a crush on me?’ so yeah.”

“interesting.”

“to someone who’s full of disdain and hatred, yes it would be very interesting.”

the longer suguru stared at you, the more he effortlessly towered over you on the couch, the harder it was to keep the act going. his brown eyes stare deeply into your soul as he sets the plate down, turning to face you.

it’s silent at first, just his eyes staring at you and your face slowly warming up under his intense gaze.

“…what?” you finally break the silence, blinking repeatedly.

“four years down the road, and you still blink so much when you’re nervous.”

a habit no one noticed, not even your own mother. your eyes get watery when you’re nervous, they’re truly the mirror to your soul—

of course suguru would know that better than anyone else.

you sit there, lips parted in awe at his words and your face feeling like a furnace. if there was any person in the world who could make you feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time, it would be suguru.

“..sounds like you have a crush on me or something.” you mumble under your breath, trying your best not to crack under his gaze and he laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“maybe, who knows?”

When the early morning light streamed through the window, his routine began before even taking a bite of the breakfast you made, pumping your warm cunny full of cum before heading off to fulfill his manly responsibilities as a pro-hero. "Better keep my cum buried in this pussy, you got it?" he commanded sternly, his warm breath fanning against the delicate skin of your neck as you mewled at the harsh way the edge of the dinner table was digging into your poor abdomen. Crossing your thighs together so you could avoid any spillage of his sperm because you know he’d check when you go deliver his home-cooked lunch at his agency later in the day. And if you make one wrong move, you’ll be limping your way out of his agency.

Whether you like it or not, katsuki will always be mean when he’s fucking you. It’s a part of him, you’ve known that just by the way he acted. Always had an feisty attitude and angry issues with everyone around him but the difference is you fucking loved it, and of course he knew that, that’s why he indulges in it and constantly reminds you every single time how much of a horny little cock-whore you are, pussy slobbering uncontrollably all over his pretty cock like a nasty slut. The rim of your hole clinging onto his dick as if your life depended on it. It hasn’t even been five second since he walked through the door from work, still clad in his hero costume before his hard dick is nestled in his housewife's warm, runny sex.

Your pink panties slackly pulled to the side, revealing your tight hole for his vicious assault as he ruthlessly positioned himself to take advantage of your vulnerable state.

His gears and pants rubbing against the smooth flesh of your thighs, harshly marking it red. Poor Katsuki he couldn’t save a civilian from a villain attack today and now he’s so frustrated and mad so what better way to vent than abusing his pretty housewife’s comforting cunt? :(

“Tight fucking pussy, yer creaming all over me already. Bet you were thinking about my cock splitting you open the entire day, weren’t you princess?” He laughed tauntingly, his angry cock curving right into your g-spot making your toes curl in the air as his strong, big hands held an astonishingly tight grip on your waist to keep you off the floor while you bent over his marble counter. You always found it so sexy when Katsuki showed off his strength to you, after all, he’s one of the most strongest pro-heroes so of course he’d be unbelievably strong. You went crazy over it.

“Sukii– m’gonna fuck! Cum” you cried out, tears streaming down your eyes as his fat cock delved deeper into your core, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over again, sending you into a daze as you lose your mind. “No, you fucking slut— always being such a greedy bitch. You’re not cumming until I’m ready to fill you up, ya hear me?” his tone was so serious, it sent shivers down your spine.

You quickly gripped the edge of the counter. Your soft, plush ass bouncing back against his hard pelvis with each forceful thrust. God, he loved the sight so much, he licked his lips at the delicious sight of the creamy mess you were creating, completely coating him and his balls with your juices. It made his cock throb against your walls at the lewd way your quirkless pussy was rightfully swallowing him in.

“Katsuki I–“ you stammered, struggling to find your words as fear washed over you. Your hole fluttered around him, you were seeing white at this point. Your inner muscles involuntarily clasped tightly around his length. You couldn’t help it, his cock was just so fucking long and thick, and well he knew how to skillfully use it that it made you become undone within five minutes. Your eyes bulged open with fear as the streaming white liquid from your cunt spattered onto his cock and thighs and onto his expensive marble floor. The action didn’t go unnoticed by him resulting in him quickly placing you down on the slick floor and violently smacking your fleshy ass, making it recoil against his touch as he groaned. “God, you’re such a dumb fucking slut, what did I tell you? Can’t even understand simple instructions that I give you”.

Bubbling rosé is bright and fruity on your tongue. You're shoulder to shoulder with Viktor, the two of you half-miserable together, stuffed into formal wear and ripped from your respective labs and studios. Which is why Jayce lingers; he's hovering in that annoying way of his. Bumbling a little. He's trying to make Viktor feel more at home but—

You have something Jayce doesn't.

Only you can do that.

You're Viktor's childhood friend, thick as thieves and twice as inseparable. You're an artist from the Undercity—a painter, a poet, a musician. An artistic genius, the world claims, an artistic savant. And one of the rare, lucky few who has been exalted and raised above your station to be paraded around Piltover like some trophy of success from their lowest. It's mostly Viktor's fault, you claim—the moment Heimerdinger found him, he also accidentally found you.

"Ah, if it isn't one of the most brilliant and groundbreaking artists of our generation." A smooth, easy voice floats through your thoughts. You turn your head to find Councilor Medarda, swathed in what could be a starry sky of silk and gold.

She's even more beautiful in person somehow; if you were to paint her, she'd be all easy, graceful lines, curved and long. A lily stem. The arch of a tiger.

"Just the person I was looking for." She muses.

"Me?" You balk, at the same time that Jayce gaps, "Them?!"

You swing your gaze to glare at him and even Viktor wrinkles his nose. Jayce tries to clear his throat, clear the mistake.

Councilor Medarda raises a brow at Jayce, but then her eyes flicker to you, honing in on you. Hazel and gold and reflective; a kaleidoscope of color. And with such—intensity. You feel it in her. Thrumming. "Yes, you." She says smoothly and she smiles in the elegant way of royalty; perfect and mysterious.

"Are you sure you have the right person, Councilor Medarda?" You joke, "you know I'm just—"

"I'm certain. And please—call me Mel. I'd love to commission you for several art pieces to be displayed in the council chambers."

Viktor whistles a little, impressed, though you can tell it's a little dry.

(He both rambles and rants about Councilor Medarda from time to time and you can never tell if he adores her or resents her.)

Jayce startles at this, but again, he tries to play it off. He places his hand on her lower back, "I didn't know the council chambers was looking to display art."

Mel allows his hand to remain, but she tilts her chin up and her eyes flash somewhat—quick, sharp. There's a silent conversation there that you can't decipher.

But you can tell there is something more than just coworkers happening between them.

"I'm looking to display art in the council chambers." Mel then says.

Jayce looks away, cowed somewhat, tail tucked between his legs in a way that makes you smile.

Mel drifts from Jayce's hands, offering her arm to you, "will you walk with me? I'd love to discuss what I have in mind."

If only to steal her away from Jayce, you finally peel yourself away from Viktor's side and the wall. Your shoulder, where it was touching his, goes cold. But Mel's arm is warm as you twine it around yours.

She draws you away from the scientists, into the fray of swirling, dazzling people.

You glance over your shoulder only once and catch Jayce's eyes, and let your smile curl into something a little smug, almost vicious; baring your teeth as if to gloat at his own, still tucked behind his lips.

***

"Mel's an artist." You say to Viktor, offhand. "A good one, too. You should see her paintings—"

Viktor sighs heavily, snatching one of the little tools that you'd been fiddling with out of your hands. "You sound like Jayce."

You wrinkle your face in disgust, reaching back for the tool and grappling with him a moment for it. You press all against each other, squabbling, before you win out and take it back from him. He stares at you, almost in some form of a glare and you stare back, watching his eyes, dark in the low light of the lab. He glances at the tool in your hands like he might try to take it back, and when he moves, you move faster, and hold it out of his reach.

"Are they together?" You ask.

He gives up on the tool.

Then, he lifts his shoulders in some form of a crooked shrug, eyes going skyward. "One can only assume."

"She's out of his league." You sigh, throwing your weight back in the chair in despair.

Viktor snorts at that, returning to his work, "I'm sure few are in league with Councilor Medarda."

His voice is dry. A little brittle.

"I don't know what you have against her." You then venture, speaking more to the ceiling, returning to fiddling with the tool. It twists in your fingers, the sound of metal whirling and softly grinding.

"I have nothing against Councilor Medarda." He says too evenly.

"You know, I've never been able to tell if it's contempt or adoration you have for her." You continue, as if he hadn't said anything to contradict you. "But either way, she gets under your skin."

"She does not—"

"Are you jealous? She took your big, dumb partner away?" You press, twisting and twisting away at the tool.

"No—" Viktor says sharply, but it rings with a note of truth. It's not quite that then.

You pause. And then.

You crack your eye open, "I think she likes me."

Viktor pauses now too, metal clinking quietly with the sudden stop of his work again. He knows that tone of your voice. His face pulls; distaste. Frustration.

(Jealousy.)

His speech is slow as he tries to parse through what to say, "Councilor Medarda is charming and—"

"She invited me to dinner." You say and now you're watching him carefully, "at her personal suite. Just us."

Viktor rounds on you, "you're going to get yourself into trouble."

You can't help but smile, slow and amused, "I feel like it's good for the art—fool around with a politician—"

"You know, I have always wondered if you would learn your lesson," Viktor continues over your monologuing about drama and passion and politics, "—maybe this time, you'll finally learn it."

He snatches the tool from your hands and throws it down on his desk.

"I love learning." You chirp innocently and he shakes his head, face flushed with passion.

He looks at you again when he can, shakes his head some more, some of the irritation fading from his features. He never stays mad at you for long; doesn't have it in him. Besides, he causes his own trouble. Doesn't learn his own lessons. And when the dust settles, the two of you are still here, beside each other. The artist and the scientist, making messes, breaking things—all for some higher purpose only the two of you have ever understood.

(You've loved him your whole life. Sometimes, you think you carry half of the other's ribs inside one another. He must have twelve of yours, and you must have twelve of his—)

You lift your foot, nudging his calf beneath the desk with it, then up to place it in his lap. An olive branch, of some kind. Your affection is unsurprising to him and he sighs. He drops his hand to your ankle. He squeezes.

"She's going to eat you alive." Viktor finally warns.

"One can only hope."

A laugh startles out of him, rough and raspy, before it dissolves into coughing.

You lurch up to give him water, sitting near you, and bring the glass to his lips on reflex, like you used to as children. And on reflex, he drinks—he doesn't try to take the glass from your hands right away or push you away. Instinctively, you care for him, and instinctively, he lets you.

(You think you're the only one he'd ever allow to do this, born out of years of pressed side to side in the same bed, listening to him weather the nights. Born out of years of your love and stubborn care for him.)

After a moment, he lifts his hand and slowly replaces yours.

You hover over him. He sets the glass down. The water is almost gone. You'll replace it for him before you leave the lab.

He settles back into his chair, eyes returning to the pieces in front of him; all the odd metal scattered like little silver stars in front of him against a vast, dark sky. He picks up one, and then another, and tries to fit them together.

Then another. And another.

You watch him twist and turn, put the puzzle together.

He says, "Lately, I feel as if—" his fingers are careful, almost shaking, as he tries to create something of the scattered, broken pieces, "everything is quite fragile. And it's all just going to—" he presses a little too hard, and the metal all splinters apart, clattering back to the desk, "break. At any given moment."

After a moment, he looks up at you, still hovering over him, "I fear you're heading towards a breaking point."

You hum a little.

"What is it you scientists say?" You ask, running your fingers through his dark hair, thick and tousled. You twirl a strand around your finger, let it fall;

"It has to break first, before you can discover anything."

***

You'd say Mel Medarda is a wolf in sheep's clothing, but she doesn't feign anything so harmless or lost as a sheep.

You do think she's—

A little like Jayce, where she hides her teeth. But where Jayce irritates you because he's certainly trying to seem better than he is, or more harmless than he can be, Mel does so with intention. Mel hides her teeth to lure you closer. She doesn't pretend she doesn't have them; she waits until you're in range before you catch a glimpse of them.

And by then, well. It's too late.

You realize this over dinner, as she laments about what art she'd like from you and she's adamant about not censoring you.

(You're known for you controversy; whether in your physical art, your poetry, or music. Once pulled to the light of the Upper City, you refused to let them defang you. Where Jayce pretends he doesn't have teeth, you bare yours proudly, and sometimes wish you could tear the tender parts of Piltover open.

You strive to do it with your art. And while applauded in some vague capacity, you are also kept on a tight leash. Your patrons are warily supportive of you. Your commissions are strict. You're treated the way you think a wild animal is; with utmost care and fear and awe.)

In fact, her only rule for you, is to not hold back.

Which, given the growing tension between the Upper and Lower Cities, you realize this cannot only be from the goodness of her heart or for the integrity of art but—

You tilt your head and consider her.

"Am I a political move, Mel?"

She smiles in that enigmatic way of hers, her teeth flash, "isn't all art?"

You narrow your eyes, "perhaps. I wonder of it's effectiveness when it's employed by the people it often critiques." You lift your chin and pretend to be hurt—or perhaps, mask your hurt within dramatics to make it seem ironic, "and here I thought you really liked me—"

"I do." Mel assures, "I've admired you a great deal from afar. And getting to know you, your mind, it's—" she considers her words, "it's been nothing short of mesmerizing. Astonishing."

She sounds sincere. But you wonder if she always sounds that way.

She can tell she hasn't convinced you because you've never been able to mask your emotions well, so she leans forward and says, "unfortunately, everything I do is a political move, whether I'd like it to be or not. Both can be true—" she says, "I can adore you. And I can also need you to make a public point, wield you like my own elegant weapon."

"Artists make for disobedient weapons, usually." You say.

She laughs a little at that and agrees, "True." And then she lowers her voice, looks at you through the fan of her dark lashes in such a way that seizes you—arrests you, holds you right there, caught, in her heady gaze;

"But I don't need you to be obedient."

"I can never tell if you're trying to seduce me or persuade me." You blurt out, the words running from your mouth like a rabbit from a wolf. Your desire bursts from you like frightened birds taking to flight, like most of what you feel does, all of it spilling out of you in a gush of rawness.

She stands gracefully and again, you think of how you'd draw her—how you'd capture her in a poem or a song. The sharp curve of her waist, the predatory grace she carries effortlessly. You think her song is a croon from the deep part of your chest. You think her poem looks like an hourglass on the page and she slips from your fingers as easy as time does, too.

She rounds the small table to your side.

You look up at her. Your heart kicks up into a quick dance.

She brings the back of her knuckle to your jaw and gently—with all the carefulness in the world, strokes you.

(She touches you the way one does a bird, as if they know it's fragile. Perhaps as if they know it might fly away.

Or maybe she touches you the way one does an animal they're not sure of; will you bite? Will you lean into the touch?)

"Both can be true." She finally answers.

When she kisses you, it's fiercer than you're expecting; a lightning strike, a blow to the heart.

Your teeth come up against hers.

She gasps when you drag her further down to you, greedier than she's ever known, meeting her fierceness with your own, like the clashing of blades, or the destruction of stars.

And you think, if you don't want obedience, then I'll show you.

I'll show you.

***

"What are you playing at?"

Jayce's voice is a vicious little hush in the caverns of the council chambers. Mel has just left you after peaking over your shoulder to view the preliminary sketches.

You lift your head and blink up at Jayce slowly, dragging yourself from your sketch; from your world of art.

(It sets his teeth to grinding because Viktor makes that same look, when he's so deep into his work and Jayce disturbs him. It's a face he finds endearing on both of you, unfortunately. He imagines your minds are in heaven and he's selfish enough to drag you both back down to earth.)

"What do you mean? For the art piece?" You ask, glancing down at your lap, at the series of gestures and lines that you've been lost in. Maybe you're feigning innocence a little. But you want him to say it, if he's going to pick this fight.

Jayce's eyes flash like the too-hot part of the flame.

You have to bite back a smile.

Come on, you think wildly, say it. Let's fight. Here in the chambers, where you try so hard to be their golden boy.

"What are you trying to get out of Mel?" He asks and it makes you laugh outright, because he's dancing around what he really wants to ask.

Your laugh echoes in the hall, bouncing off all this marble and gold. It's out of place here, too loud, too free.

"The better question is what she's trying to get out of me." You say, "do you think I have it in me to manipulate the Mel Medarda?"

He goes quiet at that.

"Are you doing this to get back at me?" He asks after a moment and it's so close to what he wants to ask, so close to what he really wants to talk about.

"She kissed me first." You answer. "Have you had this conversation with her?"

You can tell by the shadow of uncertainty that passes over his face that he hasn't. You stand, easily setting your sketches and pencils aside, and drift nearer to him.

"Oh," you hum, "you didn't know. She didn't mention some plan of seduction to you? Maybe she really does like me."

He rounds on you so sharply that you are genuinely surprised. You gasp when your back hits the wall and he's got you caged in, a snarl on his lips and you finally get to see those teeth of his—

"You just always have to push me, don't you? In all the years I've known you, you've only ever tried to get under my skin. I tried so hard, for so long, for Viktor's sake to get along with you." He says lowly and distantly, you think, does he cage in Mel like this? With his big arms and broad chest? Or does she have him on a tight leash, underneath her?

"This time, I didn't mean it. Surely, you understand—" you say slyly, "when she comes onto you like that, all honey-voiced and half-lidded. She's hard to resist, isn't she?"

The grip he has on your biceps tightens to a point of pain—he'll bruise you. You'll be tender there, where his big hands gripped you, and it only makes you smile.

"Stop it." He snaps.

But you can't help yourself now, because once you've got something between your teeth, you've never been able to let it go;

"I just want to know if she kisses me the same way she kisses you? Does she play nice with you? She's quite fierce with me—"

When Jayce kisses you, it's a crush of aggression.

You laugh into his mouth wildly as he shoves you harder against the wall, teeth mean in the tender part of your bottom lip so that your laughter melts into a groan of pain. Of pleasure.

You claw at his back and wonder if Mel does, too.

You fight and hiss and snarl, show him your teeth when he sinks his into the fluttering pulse at your throat. You try to draw blood. You think he tries to bruise.

And well, you always wanted to see his teeth—

Just never thought you'd end up with a ring of their mark on your neck.

***

You're not really sleeping—nights are long. Days are longer. You're in the studio too much. This art piece is strangling you, wrestling with you and you're losing. Your lovers are strange, demanding types. Jayce comes to you at his lowest, and Mel at her highest. She licks the wounds Jayce leaves on you, purrs about how good you're being for her, goads you into putting up more of a fight that she likes to quell. She asks, have I stolen your bite? Are you going soft on me? Until you try to wrestle with her, too.

Mel subdues you the way snakes do—constricts and tightens and puts all that pressure on you until you just burst.

Until you go slack in her grip.

Jayce takes his anger out on you and he's not so cunning or delicate as her. You think Jayce struggles with you the way he must with his hammers, with high heat and all his strength.

Your art is starting to look like pieces of them; brutal and brilliant and cunning and beautiful. Tricky to capture, even more difficult to mesh together.

You're covered in paint when Viktor comes to visit you, frustrated with the canvas in front of you, which you think you'll end up scrapping again.

(This is the fourth one. You've been trying to fit all the components and pieces together but none of it's working, all of it's a mess. Splintered apart on the canvas. It looks like a disaster on the page.)

"Have you eaten?" Viktor asks as he comes to stand behind you. He gazes at the canvas n front of you.

You sigh heavily. "Have you?" You return.

He snorts at that, "No. I'm coming from the lab and thought I'd check on you—Mel mentioned you were here."

He pauses and then, "that you'd been here. For awhile now."

You hear the layers in his voice; the worry, but then the—

Irritation? Disdain?

"Are you asking me to dinner?" You say instead, dashing the canvas with a sudden great, horrible X. It's your meager attempt at some sort of joke or flirting, but your voice is perhaps too thin for it. You stare at your canvas, now dripping with that great X, the paint slipping down and marring it further.

When you turn to look at Viktor, he regards you warily. He glances at the canvas you've just ruined, and then back to your face.

He takes in your appearance; your disheveled hair and the paint all over your clothes and skin. And then his eyes skip down to your throat, to your arms. All marked up and bruised, unhidden and worn proudly here, in the safety of your art studio.

"Should I be concerned?" Viktor asks instead and you've always loved his bluntness. His lack of tact is like coming home. It's a relief, when you're constantly with Mel and Jayce lately, who talk in riddles and niceties and flowered language that hides their intentions or feelings.

There is a bitterness in Viktor's voice that you know well, too.

"About?" You prod.

"I'm no fool." Viktor answers, "I know you're sleeping with Councilor Medarda."

"Is that all you know?" You return, tilting your head.

"Is there more to know?" Viktor asks, eyeing you.

"Jayce hasn't said anything?"

You watch a strange shadow pass over Viktor's face as he slowly comes to the natural conclusion that you've lead him to. He's right, he is no fool. And then you watch his eyes catch fire, catch jealousy.

"I warned you—" he starts, suddenly.

"And I told you, it's good for the art—" You joke.

"Obviously it isn't!" He snaps, gesturing to the canvas behind you, ruined and glaring at your back. And then he heaves out a rough, agitated breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "Do you ever think of consequences?" He demands.

"Sure," You say, "I'm exactly where I want to be."

"You know, they are my colleagues. What am I supposed to do if—?!"

You laugh at that, enough that it startles him out of his beginning tirade. He comes up short and his shoulders bunch with tension as he glares at you.

"Is something funny?" He hisses.

"Your colleagues?" You repeat, "that's all they are to you?"

"Well—yes, technically." He stumbles on his words here.

"Are you jealous, Viktor?" You ask. "You don't have to be."

"I'm not jealous—" He refutes, even as his cheeks grow ruddy. And for a moment, you could be twelve with him again, his face flush as he looks at you after you'd kissed him for the first time because he'd never kissed anyone before. Or twenty-two and drunk, kissing one night under the stars when you felt so lost and disorientated in the Upper City—just wanted to feel like yourself again.

Or now, at thirty-two, staring at the man you've loved your entire life and whatever mess you've made out of everything.

You reach out and touch his cheek, glowing with color, and at first he winces away, but when you persist, he relaxes. He presses his cheek to your open palm and looks at you; raw and frank and so Viktor that you can't help the faint smile that touches your lips. Even as he frowns at you.

"What are you meddling with?" Viktor murmurs, turning his face into your cupped hand. You feel the faint brush of his lips, a little dry, and soft. Warm.

"Apparently our political landscape." You respond and that at least gets a laugh from him. You feel it against you and some spark shimmers through you, shudders and opens itself to you.

(Your desire for Viktor is something always with you, ambient, perhaps dormant, that always resurfaces like the great fins of some horrible, huge monster in dark waters. Your desire for Viktor is a symptom of your love. You've never know what to call it except that, except his.)

"Have I upset you?" You ask now as his laughter fades, and with it his amusement.

He sighs deeply and you feel his breath against your skin. You draw nearer. He leans back onto his crutch only slightly, only for a moment, before he allows you further into his space.

"I don't—" He struggles for the words before admitting, "yes, somewhat. For some reason."

"Are you feeling neglected?" You ask and try very hard to keep your amusement out of your voice, lest you irritate him further. He's always had a jealous streak in him, even as kids. If you made another friend, he would pout until you draped yourself over him and showered him in your attention again.

Even your previous relationships had bred some sort of jealousy in him; he's never liked any of your partners.

(It's so endearing to you that you have to tuck your teeth into your own lip and hum a little.)

You lean towards him, ducking your head so that your nose dips to brush against the line of his jaw. You feel his body shudder more than you see it. His breath goes tight. Your eyes flicker, a flash in the sun-spun light of your art studio;

"Do you want me to kiss you the way Jayce kisses me?" You murmur, your lips hovering over his. You watch his face gutter, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His breath goes shallow.

"Or would you prefer Mel?" You murmur, just before you close the distance and kiss him with a certain fierceness, a meanness that you don't usually have with him. He stumbles back a little with the force of it and your hand that had been holding his cheek, slips into the hair at the nape of his neck.

A groan startles out of him when you tighten your hand into a fist and pull.

You part from the kiss, panting a little, and he looks down at you, eyes molten gold and burning.

You're about to kiss him again, when he murmurs, "I want—" he swallows hard, "I want you to kiss me the way you do—I want—"

You press back into him instantly, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought, with the notion that his desire, his jealousy—

You kiss him like you always have, overeager and desperate and messy. You urge him backwards, towards your workbench, all cluttered with paints. His crutch clatters against the ground uselessly as you grab for each other. You knock over a jar of brushes half-haphazardly placed on the floor.

You're overwhelmed with the thought that his jealousy might've been for you, too.

When he braces his hand against your work bench, he knocks over a cup of paint. You laugh into his mouth as you paw at his stupid, perfectly buttoned vest. When he touches you again, he stains you blue—and later red and violet. Burnished gold and paint so silver it makes the stars look dull.

A mess, he tsks, impossibly fond, as he looks at you and himself and the work space.

At all that you'd done.

***

"You've been pulling strings," Mel says as you lay in her lap, letting her pet and stroke you. Her fingers dance over the ridge of your brow.

You blink up at her slowly, eyes fluttering. "Shouldn't that be my line?" You ask.

"I'm not naive to the way you've been pulling our strings." She muses, fingers tumbling into your hair. She's gentle here, careful as she cards her way through your hair, her fingers nimble.

"Pulling strings is a far too sophisticated thing to call it." You snort and lean into her touch like a cat, preening a little.

"What would you call it?" Mel asks and the smile she wears is less of a mystery to you now, and you can tell there's a fondness to it.

(She does really like you—she is really being sincere, you've learned.)

You think about this for a long moment; you toy with saying a fucking mess. Or digging my own grave. But neither feel quite so full—while true, in many ways, there leaves little room for—

Well, this.

The way she holds you. The cat's curl of her smile, pleased and mischievous. Her fingers, gentle and coaxing, urging you to unfurl and bloom.

Or Viktor's rasping laugh that you can pull out of him. The fondness you hold for him like a pearl held inside a clam, growing and glowing. The way you drape yourself all over him, and he accepts it as easy as the day accepts the sun, or the night accepts the moon into its skies.

And even Jayce and the strangled back-and-forth that the two of you dance; it's still yours. It's still his. And the way he cups your cheek admist the violence or how he let's no one speak ill of you in front of him.

(Or the way Jayce and Viktor's minds work together, or how tactical Jayce and Mel can be; sharpened like daggers and twice as pretty. Or the creativity you pull out of Mel, allowing her to see the world like a boundless piece of art. Or the way Viktor's science influences your art; how your art influences his science. The fierceness you bring out in Jayce—the passion he brings out in you.)

It doesn't quite account for all the parts that make you burn and grow and shake out your great, big wings to fly.

Finally, you say, "it feels like I'm trying to find the melodies and harmonies and how they mesh—or the composition of a painting, or the feeling of a poem, but some of the words are still missing. It feels like when I chase art and try to break it open, to reveal what it wants me to learn—or show me."

"Have you figured it out yet?" She asks and she's genuinely curious, almost quiet in her desire to know.

At that, the door creaks open and there are several hushed whispers before Jayce suddenly strides into the room with all the false confidence in the world. Viktor looks sheepish behind him.

You sit up sharply, trying to detangle yourself from Mel.

"I told you they were here—" Viktor hisses to him, "and we shouldn't—we shouldn't be here."

Jayce isn't listening, though, and he's clearly inflating himself to get out, "I've come on important business of the council."

Mel raises her brows and throws you a sideways glance. She then says, "then come in, Councilor, since it's so important that you've come to my personal quarters. Unannounced."

Jayce at least has the good sense to look a little sheepish now, too. You can't help the laugh that springs out of you.

He throws you a dark look before clearing his throat.

"Councilor Haskel and Salo are seeking to strike down the art deal." Jayce announces and your heart drops a little, sinks in your chest.

You look at Mel. She purposefully keeps her face a mask of coolness. She rolls her shoulder briefly, which is your only tell of irritation or concern.

"Come in, Jayce." Mel finally says, "and you, too, Viktor. Shut the door behind you."

Both wander into the space and it's such a surreal moment, all four of you, for once, in the same room, that you can't help but laugh again.

Mel sighs in a way as if to say, I suppose this would happen eventually.

Jayce and Viktor can't quite look anyone in the eye and they both take uneasy seats int he living room.

Again, you feel like laughing—you're not sure what all the trepidation is for. Each of them have you seen you naked; you have seen them naked.

"What's their angle?" Mel asks, ignoring both Jayce and Viktor's shyness.

Jayce clears his throat, "they don't think it's worthwhile to support an artist from the Undercity at this time."

You wince and Jayce adds, "their words, not mine."

"Well, that won't do." Mel tsks and she suddenly moves to stand, graceful as ever, her robes trailing in a wave of silk and the smell of lillies. She likes to pace when she's thinking, and she pads over the window, to look out at the city.

Eventually, she says, "we'll need a grander plan. Something they can't refuse."

"What are you thinking?" Jayce asks.

She turns and all around her, she's doused in gold light, glowing in the evening sun as if she was born to it. "Perhaps combining some science with it." Now she looks at Viktor, "something symbolic to the current advancements with Hextech, perhaps."

Viktor looks at you, then back at Mel, "I can do that."

"Jayce, I need you to talk to the other Councilors and be sure they're not swayed by Haskel or Salo." She then adds, "and I want more publicity around it—and around our artist and scientist."

Our artist.

Our scientist.

"Ah—" Viktor starts, "I don't want to be in the public eye."

Our, our, our.

"It'll put pressure on Haskel and Salo if the people are behind you both, too." Mel presses gently, though her gaze has softened on him; she's sympathetic to his desires.

To assure him, you chirp, "I can do all the talking."

"Not sure that's our best idea." Jayce remarks.

"I am certain I can name several worse ideas of ours." You quip without thinking, and then you toss one of Mel's throw pillows at him; the beautifully embroidered one that's likely far too expensive and made from the rarest threads.

It hits him with a dull thud. And for a moment, he's shocked. The room is silent.

Still, your heart sings our, our, our.

But then Viktor snorts, before breaking out into his low, soft chuckle. And then the twinkle of Mel's giggles, coupled with your own laughter that bursts from your chest like a bird taking to flight.

And Jayce watches a moment, all of you laugh and smile, and if you could paint him in this moment, you would—

A little awe-struck. Tender around the edges, burnished gold. Breath stolen from him.

(Oh, he does really like you, too. All of you.)

But then laughter rumbles from him, too. And the tension slips from all of you, drains from your bodies with each bubbling sound.

And all of them together—finally together—are the melody you've been looking for, the words you couldn't place. The color on the canvas that finally brings it all together.

It's all the broken pieces like a mosaic, finally put together to create something whole.

And it's all ours, you think, the sun a flare of light and beauty bursting through the room, bathing all of your favorite people in it's gold and glory;

That makes you turn. You cock your head the other way, expression neutral, but still gracing him with a closed lip grin. The stare lasts for a long while before you crawl back under the covers and return to his side. Your lips find the side of his neck and your hands grip back to him, hot, heavy, breathless in that way you think he likes. A hum builds in your throat, a rolling, performative sound.

"Pull your cock out," you demand, right into the shell of his ear. "If this is the last time, I want another round."

"What?"

He doesn't have time to react before you're gripping his half hard cock, jerking it up gently. It's still wet with you and buzzing with sensitivity, so much so that he can't help but enjoy it, enjoy you-

"If you're about to break up with me, I want to at least cum one more time."

He loses the remnants of his erection.

"That's not what I fucking meant." Bakugo tries to meet your eye, but you just keep kissing at him, gripping at him. "Just-- stop stroking my cock for a second and be fucking serious."

You freeze, but keep your hand on him.

"I don't wanna work together," Bakugo reaches for your hand. The free one. "I just want to date."

You don't respond.

"I want to take you places and have you meet my parents and-"

God. this is so unlike him. When did he lose his teeth? Did you pull them straight from his skull and hang them from your neck like jewels?

"I want you to sleep over." He means it. "Like a real fucking couple."

The ceiling fan hums with an uneven hitch, catching in the same spot each time. It's an easy fix, but he's been ignoring it for so long that it's almost blended into the tapestry of his home. Click-click-click-click-click: now it's deafening, overwhelming the silence you're choosing to sit in. Just as he's about to open his mouth, you look away from his body and meet his eye. There's no sharp edge to your eyes.

"'tsuki."

You say it like a mother about to comfort a child, with a rounded curve to your tone that he's never heard before. You're trying to dull the blow, but it does nothing. It's a fucking knife to the gut.

"I'm serious. I'm really serious." He points with his whole arm towards the bathroom. "I've had a fucking toothbrush ready for you for weeks now. It's right there, in the fucking package."

You withdraw, smile long gone. The air between you two, trapped under the covers, goes cold.

"The girlfriend thing." You are unrecognizable without your Mona Lisa grin and he's obsessed with it. He wants to consume these rare moments, chew on them until he's full of you and only you, despite how it makes his stomach turn. "It was never real. You know that."

You cover your bare tits with one arm, but leave your pussy exposed. It feels like a reflex more than an actual concern.

"I'm not meant to be a girlfriend. You don't want me as a girlfriend."

Bakugo's quick to close the distance between you, but he pauses when you full body flinch. Your quirk activates for a moment - you glitter out of existence and then immediately back in- like it's unwittingly done. It's another incredibly un-you moment, but one that he doesn't want to drink in.

"I do." He keeps his voice as delicate as he can. "I do. I fucking do."

"I don't know how to do the things you need. I don't know how to be a girlfriend," you say. The corners of your smile return and he can see the wall coming back up. The arch of your back, the way your hand suddenly cups your tit: you turn yourself into someone else, someone's who's happy to be here, in an instant. "I can make myself girlfriend shaped. I can open my mouth and let you fuck it. I can pose for a picture. I can make your friends jealous."

Oh, and that distant look comes back to your face. The dilation of your eye is just... wrong, even as you smile.

"But I'm just something that's girlfriend shaped," you say. "I'm an illusion, a creature, a tool, a hole-"

"Don't ever say that shit again."

It rips out of him too roughly. "A hole? That's-- why would you say that?"

It all seems to hit you slowly, as if you're processing your own words. Like it never occured to you that you were saying something foul.

"Because-" you try to explain yourself.

"You're just a girl," Bakugo doesn't let you finish the thought. He can't. Not when you're above him like that, so guarded and yet so vulnerable, neither predator nor prey. "I hate to break your fucking illusion or whatever, but you aren't this fucking lumbering beast or huntress or, or, or, I dunno, whatever the commission has tricked you into believing."

He tries to meet your eye, but you're ducking away from it.

"You're just a girl." He lets his hands fall back to his lap. The pinky that doesn't work twitches, kicking with it's old muscle memory. The scar tissue itches under it's own tautness. "Underneath it all. You're just a girl."

The mattress creaks under your weight as you shift back. Now, your eyes are incredibly focused, almost pinpricks. You watch him with an unreadable expression, one slowly inching more towards horror with every moment.

"You think I can't see you, but I can." Bakugo stays where he is. "And I think you want to be seen."

Everything moves slowly. You blink a couple times, with this meek nod, swallowing thickly as you listen. Then, you get off of the bed and head towards the door. All of your clothes are still scattered on the bedroom floor, your panties at the foot of the bed.

"Wait." Bakugo scrambles to get to his feet. "Don't- fucking wait."

He says your name, once, twice, three times, and gets no response. Panic and regret swirl in his skull, so violent he almost goes lightheaded. By the time he reaches the hall, you're gone, and he thinks you've activated your quirk to escape him. It's the nightmare he's always had around you, the one where you disappear into the night the second he gets too close.

And then the bathroom light flicks on. With a careful trepidation, Bakugo inches down towards the door, afraid the break the illusion. Maybe, if he moves too fast, you'll really scatter off into the night, a deer under his headlights.

But when he slides into the frame, you're just standing there, holding a familiar little tube.

"This it?" You hold the package in your hand. "My toothbrush?"

"Yeah."

With your thumbs, you crack into the packaging and carefully peel the toothbrush out. You run the head under the faucet, then turn it off.

"Toothpaste?"

Bakugo pulls out the top drawer. With a sullen nod, you take the toothpaste and unscrew the top. Bakugo watches you, both of you completely naked, both of you completely silent. It surprises him how unsexual it feels to be here, postcoital, still sweaty, watching you brush your teeth. After the moment settles, he steps over and grabs his own brush.

You're just a girl, he thinks as he brushes his teeth next to you. He likes that you're just a girl next to him.

The both of you finish up, then you silently pad back to the room. Bakugo follows, a healthy distance, but close enough the he watches you shrug on his sweatshirt before dipping under the covers. Your head rests on your pillow.

Bakugo finds his space on the other side of the bed and you lay there, in the dim overhead lighting.

"It's hard for me," you say.

"Sleeping?"

"Yeah."

Bakugo turns on to his side and almost reaches out. Almost. Instead, he goes back and turns off the light. When he returns, you're nothing but a dark lump beside him.

"That's okay," he says, "You can sleep however the hell you want."

Your silhouette stays still.

"Sometimes I wake up crying," you say. "Or kicking, or just remembering something I shouldn't."

"Remembering what?"

The click of the fan overtakes everything again as you lay there, pulling in even breaths. A moment passes, then another and another. You're silent for too long, long enough that he thinks you've fallen asleep. Just as he's about to give up, you sigh out a winding breath.

"He was a hero," you whisper. "I felt special when he paid attention to me."

A chill he can't place creeps up his spine. He wants to ask what that means, why you're telling him this, but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth. He has to swallow, then cleae his throat.

"Did-?" His voice crackles. "Did someone hurt you?"

Again, you're silent.

"Who?" This time, when you don't respond, he presses. "Fucking who?"

"Someone who retired a long, long time ago."

"Give me a name and I'll fucking-"

"Katsuki."

"Someone raped you."

He had to say it out loud and dispel the mystery behind it. It's selfish, brash, but he needed it- just as he needs this hand around you, holding, cradling-

"That's what happens when you're just a girl." You clutch at his forearm with a want that isn't present in your voice. "People hurt you."

The bite of your nails surprises him.

"It's safer to be something else."

Your boyfriend was late. 

Like, by a lot. 

So much so, you were debating on calling Gojo to find out where he was, considering you couldn't get so much as a text back. 

Hovering over his name in your contacts before hitting the call button with a sigh, flipping the burner off and resting your hip against the kitchen counter. But even when he answered, there was just static-y silence on the other end. 

“Hello? Gojo?” You were pouting already, annoyed that you had to resort to hearing news about your boyfriend secondhand from quite possibly the least responsible person you knew. 

“Uh, yeah?” 

His voice sounded different. You couldn't put your finger on what it was until you realized he almost sounded serious. Not greeting you with a cheesy nickname or some obnoxious over-the-top pick-up line that he still insisted on using despite the fact you'd been dating his best friend for nearly two years now. 

“Is Suguru with you?” You huffed, the sharp edge of the counter starting to dig through your thin dress. Although, it was probably closer to lingerie than an actual sundress. 

“He’s not home yet?” 

You were expecting some annoying arrogant reply - that Suguru was strong enough to take care of himself blah blah blah or how cute it was that you were worrying about them yada yada. Not an actual response that came close to concern. 

“Is everything okay?” You bluntly asked, frowning while you tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder, reaching up to pull down a couple plates from the cabinet. 

“Why wouldn't it be?” Gojo awkwardly coughed, the usual cockiness that marked every word absent. 

“Something you wanna tell me?” You impatiently huffed, foot tapping against the tile. After the shitty day you had at your own job, the last thing you needed was whatever idiotic thing they'd gotten themselves in now. You'd been hoping for a quiet evening in with Suguru, had cooked him a nice dinner, lit a few candles, put on some soft music along with the tiniest thong you owned. 

“No?” 

Yeah, right. 

In the years you'd known Satoru, he'd never answered a question with just a single word. 

The plate pinched between your fingers slipped, hitting the marble with a crash! when it broke into big shards on impact. You winced at the sound, carefully picking it up piece-by-piece and tossing them into the open trash can by the counter. 

“Did something happen? Are you okay?” Gojo's panicked voice called out to you from your phone's precariously cradled position. You couldn't stifle your giggle.

“Oh? Is the great Satoru Gojo worried about me?” You teased. Seriously, what was his deal today? 

His laugh was dangerous, an octave lower than usual when it reverberated through you. It almost sounded like he was there, purring it directly in your ear. 

“You should be more careful,” He warned. Maybe Suguru had finally started wearing off on him. 

“I should, hm?” 

“It almost sounds like you're flirting with me,” He chided with a click of his tongue. 

“You wish,” You laughed. 

A thud by the entryway distracted you, keys jingling as the lock started to turn. Gojo started to say your name, all soft and low, and something pricked at the back of your brain, like an itch you couldn't scratch. 

“Whatever, weirdo,” You sighed. “Just forget about it. Suguru’s here.”

You hung up before he could keep you on the line and longer, sitting your phone on the counter and finding another tiny shattered piece of ceramic to toss out, heavy footsteps echoing on the floor behind you. 

“Sugu-” 

Your greeting was cut off by massive hands on your waist, fingers wrinkling the soft fabric of your dress as his thumbs traced little crescent moons along your back, a head nuzzling against the crook of your collarbone. 

“Did someone miss me?” You teased, trying to crane your neck back to take a peek only for him to squeeze you tighter. His lips grazing against the column of your throat, his breath cool on your skin. 

“Maybe,” He murmured, teeth nipping at your ear while you squealed and twisted away from him. 

A pretty bouquet of white roses was tossed on the counter next to the sink, a few of the petals starting to get crushed from where it was laying. 

“Those for me?” You suppressed your smile, ignoring the way one of his hands was currently sliding underneath the hem of your dress while you picked up the flowers, careful not to get picked by the thorns poking out underneath the thin ribbon they were tied together with. 

“Mhm,” His honeyed hum was soothing, music to your ears while he started to pepper your neck with gentle kisses, brushing the thin strap of your dress off your shoulder. 

“What's the occasion?” You giggled, taking a tiny whiff of them. 

“Can't I just get my pretty girl some flowers?” He practically whined behind you, his firm chest pressed against your back. You were used to him being glued to you after he got home, but usually it was just a hand on your back, a hip brushing against yours, just small expressions of his casual affection. The weight of his presence threatened to swallow you already, his mouth tracing your collarbone like he really might consume you before the night had even started. 

“As long as they're not apology flowers for something stupid you and Gojo did,” You hummed, relaxing back into him. 

He didn't say anything to that. 

“Sugu,” You started disapprovingly, about to scold him before he turned you around, quick to cop a feel while he did, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing hard when he picked you up and sat you down on the counter so you could properly face him. 

“I didn't do anything,” He asserted, dark eyes settling on you and trailing south, savoring each second like he was drinking the image of you in. A sharp canine biting down on his lower lip when his gaze settled on the cleavage spilling out. 

Maybe it was silly. 

But it felt like the first time he'd seen them all over again. How lovestruck he looked the longer his stare lingered, the sharp little exhales he barely seemed to manage, something hanging thick in the narrow space between you. 

“If you say so,” You yielded, delicately pinching a white petal between your fingers appreciatively, admiring his selection. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, faint lines etched into the skin when he pressed another featherlight kiss on your forehead. “Grab the vase for these?”

The curve of his mouth turned down, faltering for a second when he looked down at you. 

“Could you, um, remind me where it is?” He apologetically requested, going to scratch the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair. 

You squinted at him. 

Was he being serious?

“Under the sink?” Unless you were somehow misremembering, he was the one who stuck it there last. 

“Oh, yeah,” He sighed. Reluctantly pulling away to bend down and open the cabinet, moving sponges and the dishwasher detergent over until he found the vase tucked in the back corner. 

You watched him fill it up, his fingers clumsily clasped around the bottled neck of it, shutting off the water and taking the flowers from your hand to plop them inside. 

“You okay?” The hard edge of the counter bit into your palm as you scooted closer to the edge, eyes narrowed as they focused on him. He was quick to return to you, sturdy thighs nudging your own further apart, the tent in his pants only obvious when it suddenly pressed against you. 

“Long day,” Your boyfriend mumbled, looking at your lips like they were the only thing he'd been thinking about. 

“I'm sorry,” You murmured back, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

His hand caught your chin though, pulling you in closer, your cheeks almost squished under his firm hold. His thumb digging in on one side while his index finger pressed into the hard line of your jaw, his mouth colliding against yours. Your lips parted automatically for him, his tongue immediately slipping between them, fervently exploring your mouth like you were tonight's meal, brushing against the ridges of your teeth and sliding over your own. It was sloppy, hungry, his lower lip soft and swollen while you sucked on it. Running your fingers through his silky hair, pulling the hair tie out of the messy half-bun he'd thrown it into earlier, brushing back the bangs that framed the sharp planes of his face. 

He didn't pull away until you were almost out of air, tilting your chin up while you both sucked in ragged breaths. 

“Baby,” You softly said, stroking his hair like all the muscles in your thighs weren't pulled tight, like there wasn't a growing damp spot soaking through the lace separating you from him. His eyes were closed, melting into your touch, his head relaxing into the palm of your hand. “Dinner's getting cold.”

“I want something else to eat,” His voice was raspy, a low hum that came from the back of his throat. Going back to kissing you the second the last word left his mouth, his mouth marking what felt like every inch of your neck, the ghost of his lips going from butterfly kisses to hot and heavy sucks that would surely leave bruises by tomorrow, lewd pops! joining the sound of your broken breathing. 

The friction of his erection rubbing slowly against your clit through the barely-there fabric of your thong was tantalizing. One hand hiking higher and higher up your thigh until one sturdy finger slipped under the band of your underwear, toying with it while you tugged on his hair. You could barely think straight, brain addled between his hands and his mouth and even just his cologne, warm and woody and as intoxicating as the rest of him. 

“Oh?” You could hardly choke the syllable out, shakily exhaling when his teeth scraped against the fragile skin of your throat. Instinctively chasing the more, more, more your brain was screaming for, you rolled your hips up trying to soothe the already aching bundle of nerves starving for attention, a desperate moan escaping his throat at how snugly your body was pressed against his. 

“Angel, please.”

You paused, but he was too lost in the moment to notice. Nudging the straps of your dress down further until he freed both your breasts, assuming your flinch was just from the cold air on your nipples, bending down so he could pop one in his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around it, teeth graze against the sensitive nub. 

It wasn't Suguru. 

Only one person you knew would call you something like that. Or beg before you'd even so much as touched his dick. 

Those stupid fucking assholes. 

Suguru - or Satoru, you technically supposed - bit down again, sucking a harsh spot on your tit, about to pull your panties down with his other hand just to accidentally tug too hard, the dainty fabric tearing with a loud rip! 

“Oops,” He paused to grin up at you, his smile too wide, eyes too big when they landed on yours. Only further convincing you of the growing suspicion that this was not in fact your boyfriend. 

Weird curse stuff just sorta came with the territory - you knew that when you started dating him. Especially considering some of the, uh, bizarre aftereffects that sometimes came with his technique. You experienced that firsthand when he came home one night a few months ago after swallowing some filthy fucking lust curse. 

But this? 

“Oops?” You echoed, chewing on your bottom lip while he licked a clean stripe back up your neck, kissing your jaw again while he removed the now-useless scrap of fabric between your thighs, not-so-discreetly pocketing it. 

“M’ sorry,” He murmured, hands drifting back down to your ass when he picked you up, not pausing his onslaught of kisses carrying you through the kitchen into the hall until he reached the bedroom, kicking the door open a little too hard, the knob hitting the wall behind it with a loud thud. 

You barely processed your back hitting the mattress, the hem of your dress bunching up past your hips as the familiar weight of his frame climbed on top of you. His mouth made its way south, eager to claim every inch for himself, spreading your thighs with those huge palms and practically panting at how exposed you were. 

If you were right, and this was Satoru, you guessed that meant you must've been talking to your real boyfriend on the phone earlier. You fucking knew something was off. And he didn't say a word. 

You were going to kill both of them. 

They shared almost everything. Were you really that surprised you hadn't turned out to be the exception?

“God, you're so gorgeous,” He wasn't really even talking to you, muttering to himself while he admired you splayed out in his best friend's bed, on his best friend's sheets. 

You'd never taken any of his teasing seriously. It was just in his nature. A player, a flirt. Sure, you’d never actually seen him with any girls. But you just always assumed they existed. 

Maybe it was just because he was in Suguru's body, but he seemed so sincere, your name falling in a dreamy little sigh from his lips. 

Suguru had to know what Satoru would do once he came home. So why let him? Unless you were the pawn or prize in whatever game they were playing. 

If that was the case, you weren't going to settle for anything less than being the winner. 

You reached down, running your fingers through his hair again, playing with the ends between your fingers and humming quietly. 

“Suguru,” You purred, reminding your friend exactly who he was supposed to be imitating as he hesitated between your thighs. 

“Hm?” He didn't, or couldn't, tear his gaze away, his rough thumb absentmindedly tracing figure-eights along your hip, probably not even aware of how much he was fidgeting. 

“I thought you were hungry?” You innocently pouted, batting your lashes at him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Whatever faint restraint he'd been exercising snapped. 

The sharp point of his nose bumping into your clit as he pressed his tongue hard and flat across your entrance, dark glossy eyes fluttering shut while he pushed down your thighs, pressing them into the plush mattress. 

Even if he looked like Suguru, it didn't feel like Suguru. 

He was messy, overeager, his tongue lapping up every ounce, every drop you offered, devoted swirls exploring you. Open-mouthed kisses where his taste buds scraping against the inside of your walls, groaning with every squirm and gasp he elicited. It didn't take him long to figure out where your weak spots were, working them over and over again, ignoring how tightly your thighs were clenched around his head, your fingers pulling at his hair. 

“S-shit,” You whined, clawing at the sheets when his tongue slipped out, feeling yourself throb at the absence until his mouth wrapped around your clit. It almost felt like he tore the next moan out of you, the neglected bud sore, blind need pooling in your gut while his tongue roughly circled it. 

His touch wasn't as practiced, wasn't as steady, but what he lacked in rhythm, he sure as fuck made up for in earnestness. 

Suguru Satoru was clawing at your hips, pulling you into the warmth of his mouth while your back arched off the bed, needy whimpers rolling off your tongue while he dove back in to taste you again. It could've been intentional, how he was constantly readjusting like he was still getting used to Suguru's body, but his nose kept ghosting against your clit, the knot in your stomach getting tighter every time he did, desperation clawing its way to the surface as the heat rose to your face when you remembered who was eating you out like he was fucking starving. 

“S-” You stopped yourself, not entirely convinced whose name was about to leave your mouth. 

“Mm?” 

You covered your mouth with your hand, muffling your moan when his nose edged against you again, all the nerves in your body begging for him to keep going. 

But he caught a glimpse of you, his thin brows scrunching together while he narrowed his eyes at you. Pushing off your thighs until he was hovering back over you, pulling your hand away from your lips. 

“Wanna hear you, pretty girl,” He complained, digging his knee up until it was snugly shoved against your entrance, leaving a damp spot on the baggy fabric of his pants, gradually applying more pressure as if the friction alone wasn't enough to drive you insane. 

“Sugu,” You mewled, pushing your bottom lip out just for him to snag it between his canines, capturing your mouth with another searing kiss. You wondered if Satoru's pride could handle hearing his best friend's name from your lips when he was the one on top of you. 

“Yeah?” He mumbled into your mouth, groaning when you bucked your hips up to meet the slow grind of your boyfriend's cock against your clit. You let your head rest against the soft pillow underneath you, a quiet whimper falling out when he smothered your face with more kisses. 

“Remember what we were talking about a few nights ago?” You asked, knowing he'd be forced to lie either way considering the conversation in question never happened, just something you made up. 

“What about it?” He tested the waters, doing a poor job at mimicking the sultry silk of your boyfriend's typically reserved voice. He pulled away until his nose was brushing against yours, your fingers grazing over his smooth cheek, his marble complexion. 

“I’ve just been thinking,” You drawled, running your thumb over his defined cheekbone, a nervous glint in his eyes he couldn't hide at how you trailed off. 

“And?” He pressed, something damp leaking through his pants onto your thigh. 

“Mm, maybe we should invite Gojo over,” You suggested, leaving the implication hanging in the air, feel the energy shift when it finally struck him. 

“Oh.” 

His cock twitched against you, begging to be set free while his mouth hung open. 

“You change your mind?” You teased, craning your neck up to plant butterfly kisses along his throat, tracing the tendons there the same way you'd done hundreds of times before. 

“N-no,” He stammered, a throaty grunt falling out when your hand trailed down his chest, running two fingers along the band of his pants before slipping them underneath his boxers, collecting the pre-cum that had leaked out and slathering up-and-down his thick shaft. The vein running along its side was bulging, throbbing more with every slow stroke of your fingers wrapped around his girth. “I-I can call him.”

He didn't really look like he wanted to though, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, jaw slack like your hand alone was heaven. 

“Uh-huh?” 

Suguru wasn't normally this sensitive, moaning at every little touch, putty in your palm. 

“Whatever you want,” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip like he was savoring the traces of you left there. It was probably wrong of you, but you sucked hard on his neck, hoping to leave a patchwork of blue and purple hickies by the time you finished, marks Suguru normally would have scolded you for, but Satoru seemed to worship, freely groaning every time your teeth brushed against him. He hissed when your grip tightened, rutting up into your hand. “Fuck, angel.”

Too distracted, too worked up to think of anything except the friction of your palm against his shaft, he didn't notice when your other hand slipped into his left pocket, plucking Suguru's phone out. Unlocking it just to find a message from ‘Gojo’ already there, along with all the unread ones you'd sent earlier. Your boyfriend so kindly informed him to go ahead and try, and what he was implying only irritated you more. 

Your reply was short. 

Come over. 

How long would it take him to show?

Gojo could teleport, and while you had no idea if that meant Suguru would also technically be able to, the idea of your boyfriend popping in to find you jerking him but also not-him off had your blood rushing south. Your frustration fighting the lust clouding your judgment, all the cells in your body currently occupied by the thought that one of them better make you cum soon.

“There,” You mumbled, and he peeked at you through half-lidded eyes, lost in his own sea of desire.  

“What?” He choked out, his voice thick as you continued pumping in your steady rhythm, his breath hitching. 

You dangled the phone in front of him briefly, having to stretch to deposit it on the nightstand by your boyfriend's thin pair of reading glasses he'd left there this morning. Straining to reach over and flick the lamp on, the fading evening sunlight throwing long shadows across your bedroom. His expression twisted for a second, and you couldn't tell what he must've been thinking, but it melted into almost ecstasy when your fingers grazed against his sensitive tip. 

“Toru should be here soon,” You murmured, slowly enunciating the nickname you rarely ever used for him, feeling him twitch at the way it rolled off your tongue. 

“Toru?” You were pretty sure he was trying to sound jealous, but he couldn't hide the hint of pride, his ego inflating just from you mentioning him.

“Mhm,” You purred, probably having more fun than you should at playing with him the same way he always toyed with you. “You know, I think he might have a little crush on me.”

“W-what?” Hearing your boyfriend stutter was delicious, to see his composure crack so easily. 

“You don't think so?” You teased, your hand jerking up and earning a low hiss. 

“I don't know,” He breathlessly murmured, his cheeks flushed pink. 

“Take your clothes off,” You tutted, arching your brows up and pausing there. 

His moan was nothing short of filthy, his cock jerking up when your hand didn't move. 

“You’re not gonna cum just from a little hand job, right honey?” You taunted, finger drifting across the slick slit along the top, another gutteral noise leaving him like he was letting you know he very well might finish before the real Suguru could show. 

“Course not,” He scoffed, but it came out more like a whine. 

“Then. Take. Your. Clothes. Off.” You repeated, punctuating each word with a slow drag of your fingers along the throbbing vein, watching his cheeks hollow while he sucked on his molars. 

“Fine,” He grimaced, pulling away to remove his shirt first, tugging it over his head and quickly working to pull his pants and boxers down in a single fluid movement. His cock was so red it must've hurt, damp and slick as it sprung up to smack into the hard muscle of his abdomen, your eyes lingering when they landed on his dark happy trail. 

When he wasn't talking, his mouth set in the same hard line and eyes fogged with hunger, it would be easy to convince yourself he was Suguru. 

The knock down the hall reminded you who was really the one standing naked in front of you.

“Should I-”

“The door's unlocked,” You shrugged before you could finish, propping yourself up on your elbows while you tilted your head to the side. “Besides, can't he just teleport inside?”

You waited for an excuse, for him to give their little game away, but he didn't. 

“Yeah, you're right,” He murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you into his lap, taking the hem of your dress between his fingers and lifting it up over your head, discarding it with the rest of his clothes scattered on the floor. 

The door creaked open at the same moment he unclasped your bra, his tip twitching against the hood of your clit at the slow sound of footsteps approaching.

It was funny, they were lighter than Suguru's, a little softer, but they had the same rhythm, one you automatically recognized as his. 

“You nervous, baby?” You whispered, caressing his cheek. 

“No,” Satoru huffed, brows furrowed together tightly.

Liar. 

You were about to turn to face the open doorway, but his mouth landed on yours before you could, kissing you like it might be the last time he’d be able to. Which you guessed could be true, that even if Suguru told him he could try to fuck you, he might actually kill Satoru for it if he discovered just how close he'd already come. 

His lips tearing at yours, a hand on your lower back holding you firmly against his chest while his tongue traced your teeth, slid against your own. 

The actual Suguru cleared his throat.

But Satoru refused to back off, his thumb brushing over the ridges of your spine, canines tugging at your kiss-bruised lips. 

“Started without me, huh?” Gojo's taunting voice called out, the wooden frame of the door creaking like he was resting his weight on it. 

You managed to twist your head, lips pressing messy kisses along your neck while you assessed your new company. 

Intense blue eyes narrowed, white brows scrunched together and his jaw set tight while his gaze slowly scanned over your bare body, probably already littered with hickies and bruises. He reminded you of a big cat, how leisurely he measured you, his stare flitting from you to him and back to you. Hands slung in his pockets, amusement and maybe something darker, more possessive glimmering in his eyes when they locked with yours. The lights flickered for just a second, a small crackle hanging in the open space, the air thick and charged. 

“Sorry,” Satoru apathetically shrugged, unbothered while his other hand groped at your breast. 

Your boyfriend wasn't looking at him(self) though, focused entirely on you. 

“Suguru,” You let out a soft moan, not breaking his stare while Satoru hummed happily, rolling a nipple between his fingers, content to keep the charade up. 

The one you were actually talking to smirked. A little crooked smile smugly curling up to let you know he knew you knew. 

“Mm, what, sweetheart?” Satoru whispered into your skin. 

“You're being a little rude ignoring our guest,” You scolded, grinding against him just enough for him to get his teeth. 

“M’sorry,” He apologized again, warm eyes fluttering open when you climbed off of him, his fingertips grazing against your wrist in an attempt to stop you before you started walking over to where Suguru was leaning against the frame, and his usually passive expressions were even harder to read when they were hidden under a new face. 

You hadn't been nervous before. 

But walking up to Gojo while you were naked, even if you knew it was actually your Suguru was unnerving, anxiety pricking at you when you pressed a finger against his chest, just for nothing to stop you. Heart lurching in your chest, lungs no longer working when you realized infinity was on. But then he let out a small, almost inaudible sigh, and the tip of your finger was suddenly wrinkling the tight white shirt covering his broad frame. 

The dull thrum of blood rushing to your head filled your ears at the way his unnatural eyes seemed to be scrutinizing every inch of your skin, how much they seemed to burn for you the longer he looked. 

“Well?” You cocked your head to the side, hoping to come across as far more confident than you really were when you knew he'd be able to see straight through you. 

“You wanted me here,” Suguru simply said, choosing his words carefully. The game had changed, morphed into something new, trying to make the other break first, come clean, an implicit sort of understanding exchanged in his heavy state. 

“I thought you'd be a little more excited,” You tried to sigh like you were disappointed, starting to turn around just for a hand to snag your waist, his tongue clicking when he pulled you back. 

“Did I say I wasn't?” He muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his arm snaking around your back to hold you closer until your tits were practically squished against his chest. 

Your attempt to slip away was futile, his grip only getting tighter when you peered up at him, your stomach twisting when all you found was Gojo's face looking down at you, the messy white hair and the bright blue eyes you’d never seen so close, pretty pink lips pursed together. 

It's not like you'd never realized he was attractive. But it'd always been more like a fact, something you'd never really paid attention to. You realized with abject horror that holy shit, you were attracted to him when your breath hitched in your throat, your thighs pressing together at his sudden proximity. 

“You’re a dick,” You mumbled, squirming under his hold. You weren't positive which one you were talking to - honestly, probably both. 

“Oh yeah?” Suguru chuckled, the sound of Gojo's lighthearted laughter doing nothing to soothe your nerves. 

“Yeah,” You managed a tiny nod, sucking in short inhales, feeling like you were being crushed under his piercing gaze. 

Someone else's hand found your hip, familiar callouses claiming you as a firm chest pressed against your back, Satoru's other one tangling itself in your hair and tugging, your head forced to tilt back to look up at the dark-haired man you were used to waking up with. 

Caught between the two of them, not sure if you were ensnared in their trap or if was the other way around when you craned your neck up to smash a kiss against your not-boyfriend’s mouth, forcing the real one to watch as your tongue slipped between his lips, explored every nook and cranny you’d already committed to memory. 

“Honey,” You whispered when you broke away, studying his jaw, all his familiar features, somehow still stuck reminding yourself that it wasn't Suguru when he looked at you like that. The unspoken affection, the searing adoration in the amber glow when it caught the light from the lamp. 

“What’s my girl want?” Satoru teased, a deep hum in your ear. 

“I want you,” You bit your lip when he gave your hair another tug, swallowing hard. 

“You heard her,” Satoru mockingly addressed Suguru, oblivious to the fact he was really the one left out, unaware that the charade had been up before he’d gotten his first real taste of you. 

“You can watch,” You let your gaze linger on Suguru, while Satoru pulled you free from his grasp and tossed you onto the bed. 

All you heard was one short exhale before Suguru relegated himself to the oversized armchair in the corner of the room. It was supposed to be a small reading nook, tucked between the tall bookcase he built for you over the summer and the tall mirror leaning against the wall. Certainly not meant for this. 

But his expression didn't change. 

Lips pressed together, the muscles in his jaw pulled tight while he watched the bounce of your breasts when you hit the mattress, watched his own hands pry your thighs apart to reveal how wet you were, a few faint red splotches staining your skin to hint at what had happened before he arrived. He didn't miss the way you were watching him either. A small part of you wondered just how much he could see with Gojo's technique, considering he hadn't shown up with any of the blindfolds or bandages or sunglasses the latter usually always had with him. 

But Satoru snapped you back to reality, grabbing both wrists in one huge hand and pinning them above your head, nudging your legs just enough to line himself up properly, his movements still jerky, still adjusting to his new proportions. 

You had one singular moment of clarity. A split second where you realized you were actually about to let Gojo fuck you. Okay, yes, he was in Suguru's body, it was still technically him. 

And the next moment he was sinking into you, and fuck, you nearly forgot everything at how fast he filled you. Whimpers your brain could barely recognize as your own falling out freely when he started fucking you like you really were his girl. 

Dark bangs falling in his face, the first beads of sweat sitting his forehead, hovering over you like he was trying to sear what you looked like underneath him in his brain. 

His thumb digging into the divot of your wrist, the mattress creaking when he found a pace bordering on brutal. Each thrust hard and fast, his hips smacking against your skin while you hooked one leg around his waist, your chest heaving with every shuddered breath. 

“Mine,” He murmured, low enough you suspected he hadn't intended for Suguru to hear, but in the blurred edges of your vision, you caught the way your boyfriend's fist tightened, how white his knuckles were. 

You figured it was a fifty-fifty chance on whether Satoru was saying it purely to piss him off or if he was trying to stay in-character. 

“Mm, all yours,” You whined back, straining under his grip, absolutely hoping to get a reaction out of Suguru. 

You'd never expected Satoru to be so, well, desperate. 

It almost felt like he was trying to brand you, ingrain himself so deeply you'd never be able to root him out. 

“I wanna touch you,” You jutted out your bottom lip, flexing the tendons in your wrist where his hold was starting to ache. His hips stuttered at your request, pausing to recollect himself, his hair hanging down in a thick curtain. Releasing your hands with a heavy breath, cock twitching when you reached up to brush his bangs back. 

It had to be muscle memory. 

But you could've sworn you saw his lips mouthing an ‘I love you’ before they met yours. 

Satoru never really gave your thoughts the time to linger on anything though, hips pounding into you, trying to press the shape of you into the squeaking mattress, the bed’s wooden headboard smacking into the wall in time with every forceful thrust. 

Mumbling mindless compliments into your skin between every kiss, promises of how pretty you looked like this, how much he was yours. 

As much as you loved hearing those words come from Geto's mouth, the shriveled up leftovers of your logic reminded you that just because Satoru never shut up, it didn't mean he actually meant any of it. 

It was just his dick talking. 

Probably. 

He had one hand behind your neck, cradling your head up so it was easier for him to kiss you, distracting you from where his other one was heading until it was already there, his fingers forming a sharp ‘V’ as they skimmed over your clit, teasingly kimming over it just to return to massage rough patterns over it, not very discreetly experimenting with what made you gasp, thighs squeezing around him. Your own fingers tangled in his hair pulling free to scramble for his broad shoulder blades, the nails scratching down his back earning you a heedy moan, his hips suddenly bucking up, and you weren't sure what pushed you over, the tip grinding hard against the spongy little spot at the back or how he rolled the already overworked bundle of nerves between his index and thumb, but you were crying out, tiny stars dotting your vision eyes clenched shut, legs quivering when you came.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me-” His quiet curse was cut short with a raspy moan, stalling out inside you, frozen except for the breaths he managed to suck in and force out, finishing earlier than he'd intended.

The thick warmth of his cum already started to leak down the inside of your thighs, coating his still-throbbing shaft when he reluctantly pulled out.

You kissed him anyway. 

The same way you had when you still thought he was Suguru, just a tender one pressed to the edges of his lips before he untangled himself from you, flipping over next to you to stare at the ceiling fan slowly spinning overhead. 

Suguru laughed. 

“It's my turn, isn't it?” 

The lilt of his voice, the way his mouth quirked up in half a smile stole the breath from your throat. 

You could feel your chin turn up, but you couldn't control it, couldn't move when it felt like all you did was blink and he was standing up, article after article of clothing being peeled off, tossing them over to the half-empty laundry basket in the closet. Satoru was still dazed, blinking lazily next to you, head reclined back on the pillow, Adam's apple bobbing through his ragged breathing. 

“Well?” Suguru mimicked your tone from earlier, padding over to your side of the bed left only in a plain white pair of boxers. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your eyes automatically trailing down his sculpted chest, the defined muscles of his abs down to the trail of white peeking out above the band of his underwear. In a fluid movement, he was shedding those off too, his cock springing up the second it was free. 

And shit, Gojo really had won the fucking generic lottery when he was born, because how the fuck was that fair? Even his dick was pretty. Not quite as thick as Suguru's, but longer, a slight curve to it, the tip a tantalizing pink. 

You had to swallow the spit pooling in your mouth. 

“Forget how to use your words?” He tsk-ed, one knee sinking into the mattress next to you, a soft hand slipping down to the small of your back and pulling into the warmth of his chest. Picking you up, holding you how he always had, cradling you and carrying you in front of the mirror. But he smelled like Satoru, the candied scent of his cologne, the sweetness flooding your nostrils. 

“No,” You choked out, loathing how small it sounded. Staring at the sharp outline of his collarbones so you didn't have to look at his face, brain refusing to reconcile who you were looking at with who it actually was.

Suguru wasn't having it. 

It was hard to tell what happened first when you still felt so dizzy, how fast he sat down, his hand twisting you around so you were on his lap, his chest on your back, his erection pressed against your spine. Forced to meet your own glossy eyes in the mirror, the necklace of hickeys left around your throat, your trembling body perched prettily on Gojo's thighs. His fingers pulling your thighs apart, repositioning you until you were directly above the dripping tip, your mouth dry at the thought of taking all of him like this. 

You didn't think it'd fit. 

For all your teasing and taunting, he was about to give you back everything you gave him tenfold. 

“Su-” You nearly slipped up, blinking too fast. 

But he shoved two fingers in your mouth, muffling your voice before Satoru overheard and spoiled the fun. 

Automatically, you parted your lips for him, swirling your tongue around his knuckles, sucking softly, lashes fluttering closed while he ghosted over your entrance, his free hand tugging your hips down, pushing himself in inch by excruciating inch. 

“C’mere,” He murmured in your ear, forcing past barely-there ring of resistance, all your muscles squeezing hard around him like he was the interloper here. 

“Oh, oh,” You panted, probably incoherent talking with his fingers pressed against your tongue like that. Your thighs quivering with the strain of being spread so open, your sore walls stretching around the delicious length of his shaft, the veins throbbing inside you while he continued to hold you down, slowly filling you up.

“Sweetheart,” He purred, using the same saccharine voice Gojo always did, and you almost jolted, squirming, but he just chuckled dryly, clicking his tongue as he paused, the sound not quite covering your own whimper. Your chin tilted up, head reclining back to rest against his chest, pushing puffs of air out of your nose, clawing for some tiny sliver of control. 

“Fuck,” The sound of Suguru's voice from across the room, Satoru finally noticing what you and your boyfriend were doing with his body. 

Peeking through heavy lashes to find his dark gaze in the mirror, his jaw slack at the sight of you looking so fucked-out on top of him, the needy noises pouring out despite the fingers still stuck in your mouth. 

“Eyes on me,” Your boyfriend muttered, his quiet voice firm when you pulled your attention back to the man behind you in the mirror. 

Cold blue eyes locked onto yours, his pale cheeks making the flush show easier, his lips a pretty shade of pink while they left phantom kisses across the column of your throat. 

“Please,” You whispered against his fingers, his twitch feeling more like torture the longer he refused to move. 

He pulled his fingers out, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip with a pleased sigh, slowly skimming his hand down your front so he could hold your other hip, his touch surprisingly delicate, controlled. 

“You really want me to fuck you while your boyfriend watches?” Suguru mocked, and you guessed it wasn't even incorrect in his assessment even if he was just playing his role. And really, he made a far better Gojo than the cheap imitation Satoru had been giving you of Geto. 

You shakily nodded, your own hands gripping onto his, fingers laced between his much longer ones, the pad of your thumb rubbing tiny circles over his knuckles, a silent reminder that you loved him despite whatever lengths you were both willing to go to win this stupid game. 

“Please,” You repeated. 

He bottomed out before you could breathe, his hips jerking up at the same time as he yanked you down, his tip not grazing, but smashed against your womb, deep enough that you were instinctively falling forward, trying to wiggle away, but he pulled you back before you could hit the mirror. 

Whatever sound came out was strangled, your brain and your guts quite literally being scrambled by his rough thrusts, his hands easing you up just to spear you back down, feeling almost like you were being split open on his intimidating length.

“I-I,” You were stammering, gasping for air when every stroke seemed to slam the breath right out of you. 

“What, baby?” He teased, his left hand drifting up to the bare strip of your midriff below your belly button, pressing down on it as if he could feel himself there. 

“S’ too much,” You practically slurred, drunk on him and the stretch and the burn. He leaned in closer until his canines were teasing at your earlobe, shivering at how much of his body was already connected with yours. 

“My love,” He coo-ed, for your ears only, lost under the filthy smack of his hips against your skin, the sloppy noises of him bucking up into you. “You can take it.”

It was embarrassing how easily he was pushing you back towards the edge, already on the precipice of another orgasm. Knowing your body like the back of his hand, angling himself to hit the same spongy spot as before, tears brimming along your lashes at how wrong right it felt. 

How wrecked he looked in the mirror didn't help. 

The stark white hair glued to his forehead with sweat, the muscles straining in his face, his bicep bulging, his fingers splayed out further to press down harder on your stomach, your body locking up when he drove himself deeper. 

“S-Satoru,” You whined, starting to wonder if his dick was somehow lodged in your throat with how hard it was to manage less than a handful of syllables out. 

“Mm?”

“Yeah?”

Idiots. 

Suguru paused mid-thrust, sighing, stark-white eyebrows furrowed in frustration when he realized Satoru actually responded at the same time as him. 

You both turned, peering over Gojo's shoulder at the real him. 

You didn't think you'd ever seen Geto make that face, the panic that tinged his features, his mouth hanging open like even Satoru couldn't believe he'd given himself away. 

“I-uh, listen,” He started to speak again, until his dark eyes narrowed, belatedly realizing that all your faces reflected was mild annoyance instead of confusion. 

“I think I still won,” You peered up at your boyfriend with a little huff, pouting. 

“Did you now?” He wryly murmured back, and you knew you lost when all it took was a harsh roll of his hips for you to moan his name this time. 

“Shit, Suguru,” You whined, gripping his right hand tight to anchor yourself when you were already fully at his whim. You were throbbing around him, the heat building from within, the swollen bundle of nerves starting to ache from his neglect. 

“Giving up already?” He taunted. 

You stayed silent, lips pressed together tight to hold in what might've been a rebuttal or begging. 

“Oh?” 

He hoisted you up, your whine at how empty you felt without him ringing through the room until he positioned you on the bed, manhandling you into place until you were on your hands and knees in front of his best friend. Satoru was blinking hard,  sitting up and staring at you like he couldn't believe you were real. 

It was something you'd seen before. 

The silky black hair, the bangs stuck to his skin, the veins popping out on his fist when it was wrapped around his cock, a weird sort of comfort reassuring you at the soft sound of your name falling out of his mouth. 

“When did you figure-”

“The kitchen,” You started to shrug, a barely-there smile curling up until Suguru suddenly slid inside, not stopping until he managed to snugly force himself in to the hilt, your lips falling open as you made a strangled yelp. 

The force of it pushing you forward, your hand grabbing one of Geto's sturdy thighs, scrambling for something to hold onto, Gojo's nails clawing at your hips, probably leaving little crescent moons on your skin. You doubted Suguru even realized it, his own usually clipped too-short to ever leave marks. 

Geto's cock was barely inches away, the thick vein running along the side pulsing, Satoru apparently throbbing at the sight of him fucking you like you were on some invisible leash. 

He might as well have been drooling. 

“I think he needs a little help, baby,” Suguru was making fun of him, but you didn't think Satoru had it in him to care about anything other than the need that was surely coiling just as tightly inside him as it was in you. 

“Yeah?” You asked him, trailing your hand higher until it was cupping his balls, just close enough for your fingers to brush against where his own were wrapped so tightly around his dick. “You want my help, Toru?”

His hand jerked up hard when you leaned in to slowly wrap your mouth around his tip, the point of your tongue slowly swirling over it. 

You were content to keep teasing him, but your boyfriend had something else in mind, his next thrust unexpectedly forcing you to take Satoru in, the vein thrumming along your tongue as he hit the back of your throat. You nearly gagged, barely stopping yourself from biting down when you couldn't even breathe. 

“Doin’ so good,” Suguru murmured softly, appreciatively, trailing delicate fingers across your spine to stop right at the nape of your neck, a smooth palm resting against it. You shivered, your shoulders rolling back just for him to push your head down on the last couple inches you hadn't managed to fit in your mouth before. 

“Oh fuck.”

You were inclined to agree with Satoru. 

Actually gagging now, your cheeks hollowed out in your weak attempts to bob your head up-and-down, but he was acting like it was the best head he'd ever received, his groans sticking out over the sound of skin-on-skin and the never-ending whines of the mattress (and you.)

“You okay?” Suguru muttered in your ear, his chest resting on top of your back, planting soft kisses over the sore bruises lining your collarbone. Checking in to make sure it wasn't too much like he didn't already know you just wanted more. Filled-up and fucked-out and somehow still starving for whatever affection either one would offer. 

“Mhm,” You moaned, the sound from your throat practically making the cock in your mouth jump at how needy it sounded. 

Suguru was the kind of man who'd put your needs first. 

Just in his, uh, own way. 

Something almost intangible stretching you further, almost like Suguru had somehow managed to slip a condom on without even slipping out of you. Your mind was too hazy to process what was happening while it expanded in the tiniest of increments, your body reflexively jolting forward with nowhere to go. Whimpering meekly, your fingers digging into Geto's muscled thighs like it'd help any. 

“Oh, that's mean, Suguru,” Satoru chuckled hoarsely, apparently realizing what was happening before you had. 

It wasn't until you noticed that there weren't any nails sinking into your skin, no honeyed kisses tracing your neck that you figured out Suguru was using infinity again. 

“I'm mean?” Suguru wryly scoffed, more amused than annoyed considering he was still buried deep enough inside you he could probably feel your guts. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

He leaned in impossibly close, shuddering at the immense weight of the distance bearing down on you. 

Even if they weren't both stuffing you full, you didn't know if you'd be able to formulate a reply. Stuck dumbly shaking your head no to take Suguru's side, shamelessly grinding your ass back against him, reduced to chasing your most basic instinct. 

This time Satoru laughed, laced with a tight sort of disbelief. But you went back down on him, running your tongue along the vein and feeling the automatic rut of his hips, the laughter turning into a breathy moan of your name. Reaching out to caress your face while he fucked it, clearly close to cumming again.

Probably bruising the walls of your throat with the way he was rutting up into it, the girth forced up against the roof of your mouth. The sweet nothings rolling so easily off his tongue clued you in before the vein pulsing along the swirls of your tongue did, thick ropes of cum hitting the back of your throat, the tension in his muscles all relaxing at the same time while you struggled to swallow all of it. 

“God, I fucking adore you,” Satoru groaned, not making a move to pull out this time even after the last drops leaked out. 

“Watch your mouth, Satoru,” Suguru warned. 

“Well, technically, it's yours,” Satoru reminded him. 

Infinity flickered off. It was hard to tell if it was on purpose or if maybe it was too much to maintain.

But Satoru slipped out of your mouth, watching you through half-lidded eyes, the pupils so wide they almost looked entirely black. Combing his fingers through his long hair, untangling a tiny knot you probably put in it tugging it earlier. 

“Suguru,” You mewled, glancing over your shoulder at the white-haired sorcerer behind you, immediately regretting it at how tightly your stomach knotted at the reminder of whose body was fucking you. 

You hated to admit it, but you were nearing your limit and you wouldn't put it past him to work you well over it if you didn't concede defeat soon. 

“Yeah?” He softened, his harsh pumps easing, his thumb hooked over your hip tracing tiny patterns. 

“You win,” You muttered under your breath, biting down on your lip. 

“I know,” His voice was low, rolling straight through you, only stoking the desperation clawing its way up from your core. 

Losing was still fun when it was with him. 

His hand slipping around, not having to fumble to immediately find your clit, pinching at the sore bud just to make you gasp. 

“Say please,” He teased, your company clearly in mind considering how much he was making you beg for it. 

Satoru wasn't wrong. Suguru could be mean. You just liked it. 

“Please,” Your whisper was more of a rattle, your vocal cords straining to get the noise out. But it was enough. The pressure of his fingers working circles over your clit, massaging the same determined motions against it, damp streaks trailing down your cheeks at the tears brimming over your lashes. 

The crescendo finally cresting, a white-hot wave of pleasure hitting you when pressed down just right. Blinding you to anything else other than the way he burned inside you, the ache in your heart at his proximity. You were only dimly aware of him cumming a handful of seconds later, just a faint inkling of surprise that he hadn't pulled out considering he was in Gojo's body, your already slick thighs pressing together when he pulled out like it'd contain what was dripping down them. 

Your knees buckled, body simply refusing to support your weight and brain doing nothing to stop it. 

Satoru caught you, leaning over to hook a sturdy arm around you and pull you on top of him, his other palm pressing your head down against his broad frame. His skin was still sticky, slick with sweat, every breath he forced in and out of his lungs making his chest move, the steady thrum of his heartbeat reverberating in your ear. 

You didn't have enough strength left to move, letting him stroke your hair softly in silence. 

Even if he wasn't currently stuck in Suguru's body, you suspected you'd still let him. 

"You're okay," You barely processed his smooth murmur, still too lost in the haze of what happened. 

"I would like my girlfriend back now," Suguru dryly remarked, a second set of hands sliding up your hips to grab your waist. 

"Mine."

Did Satoru even realize how much he sounded like a five year old trying to steal someone else's toy on the playground?

Suguru crudely laughed, and your shiver was involuntary, how wrong it sounded to hear Gojo's body sound like that. 

But he tugged you free from his own body's grasp, pulling you into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, a hand on your back to support you while he stood in front of you. 

You didn't know if you could ever get used to this.

Staring at Gojo and knowing it was really Suguru, hearing his voice and feeling his hands, picking up on all the little mannerisms you'd grown attached to over the past couple years, how strange it felt to watch someone else do them. 

"Are you-" You paused, flinching a little at how raw your throat felt. "Um, how long are you guys going to be stuck like this?"

"Dunno," Satoru chirped from the other end of the bed behind you while Suguru sighed, rolling those pretty blue eyes. 

"Shoko said it might be a day or two," Suguru answered slowly, his serious stare focused on you, a deep crease between his brows that you'd never seen on Gojo before. 

"Might?" You questioned, the first icy pinpricks of something close to dread starting to sink in at his careful choice of words. 

"She has no idea," Satoru unhelpfully chimed in again, revealing what you guessed was probably the truth judging by Suguru's strained expression. 

"You shouldn't worry about it, okay?" 

It was pretty hard not to worry when those were the words leaving Gojo's mouth. 

He leaned down to kiss you, softer this time, cupping your cheeks. You peeked, unable to help yourself. His sharp nose brushing against yours, his snowy lashes fluttered shut, the white brows peeking out above them. 

"Kiss her like you mean it," Satoru heckled, the bed creaking while he got up. Suguru scoffed at his snipe, barely breaking the kiss. But he did listen, his teeth grazing against your swollen lower lip to dip his tongue further in. 

“That better?” Suguru sarcastically remarked when he pulled away. 

“Could you do it again so I can get a picture?” Satoru was holding up his own phone, snagged from the pants Suguru had discarded earlier, his camera actually pointed towards where you were currently sitting in front of his actual body. 

You were huffing, everything aching when you scrambled back to grab a pillow from the top of the bed to throw at him, giggling to yourself when you remembered he no longer had infinity to block it, the pillow smacking him straight in the face. 

Suguru laughed at him, a lopsided smile forming when the six eyes landed on you. 

“Don't think you're off the hook either,” You pouted, common sense and reasoning starting to trickle in for the first time since Satoru showed up. 

“You wanna punish me first?” Satoru cheekily volunteered himself, not making a move to put any of his, or you guessed really any of Geto's clothes back on. 

“Shut up,” Your face was still flushed, turning away, not sure how to even keep eye contact with either of them when they were swapped like this. 

“Guess we should all just spend the night here, huh?”

poll on what happens in pt. two here

mini a/n: pls lemme know if you enjoyed hehe!!! this is meant to be a oneshot but honestly I'm so tempted to write literally a prequel a sequel and a spinoff bc I simply cannot help myself lmfao <3

Your laugh was loud enough to hear through the not-entirely-effective soundproofing padding the wall separating his office from the bedroom. Choso wasn't the only one who heard.

The chat was going faster than he could read, half of them calling just calling bullshit.

"You guys wanna meet my girlfriend?" He paused the game now, readjusting the camera higher, cutting off everything below his chest. The new chorus of she's not real and he's actually lost it was interrupted by two short knocks on the door. "Come in, baby."

It took a single look at the blush staining your cheeks to know his fantasy wasn't just fiction, the slight tremble in your legs as you walked over to his gaming chair.

He tugged you into his lap once you were within reach, brushing the hair off your neck and wrapping his arms tight around your waist. God, he didn't think he'd ever smelled anything so delicious.

"Isn't she pretty?"

Perched on his thighs, your lips fixed in an adorable pout at being interrupted, glancing between him and the webcam then over to the chat, currently flooded with accusations and theories that he must've paid you.

"You gonna say hi to them, baby?" He muttered in your ear, humming softly against your skin, a thin sheen of sweat making a few stray hairs stick to your neck from your attempt at keeping preoccupied without him.

"Hi," You repeated, already squirming in his lap before he'd even done anything.

k1ng0fcurs3s: are you as bad in bed as you are playing this?

k1ng0fcurs3s: id fuck your girl better

"Yuji, ban that guy," You moved the mouse, frowning as you talked, copying the username of and sending it to the private chat already open offscreen.

While he'd rather be the one taking care of you, it was sweet to see you get worked up on his behalf, readjusting on his lap like he'd somehow miss the damp spot on your panties soaking through his sweatpants, the slick still coating your thighs.

You were reading whatever message caught your attention next, too distracted to notice his hands tugging down his sweatpants, freeing his cock so he could shove your underwear and tiny shorts aside. It wasn't until he already aligned himself, started inching his way that you realized what he really called you in here for.

"I, um, oh-" Your stutter was adorable, your spine going stiff as you clamped down around him. But there was almost no resistance, not after you had prepped yourself so nicely for him.

"She can be a little camera shy," Choso informed the chat, scooting the chair closer, watching your face in frame in the bottom corner, all glossy-eyed and flustered.

"Y-yeah," You stammered, really squirming now as he suddenly brought you down all the way on him under the guise of readjusting, barely managing to control your facial expressions in front of the thousand or so people currently tuned in live absolutely oblivious to the fact you were being crammed full of your boyfriend's cock.

"Since I apparently suck at this, why don't you try?" He casually offered, his voice gravelly, struggling not to get caught up in the sinful way you seemed to suck him in. How tightly your thighs were pressed together, the throb of your walls around him while your chin barely bobbed in reply. "What do you guys think?"

Embarrassingly enough for him, even with his tip grinding against your cervix, forced to swallow your moans at every throb and twitch of his cock filling you up, you were still doing better than he was ten minutes ago.

Dodging attacks and actually striking down the creepy-looking monsters, your brows knitted together so tightly while you tried desperately to concentrate on the screen, clicking frantically with the mouse and hitting the keys. Each time you jolted at a new jumpscare was some new form of torture, his attempts at teasing twisted back on him when he couldn't do anything except twitch, barely restraining the temptation to turn the camera off and fuck you right there on the desk.

"Shit," Your curse came out more like a whine when you died, chipping away at his cool facade, his forearm pressing you tighter against his chest, hips rolling ever-so-slightly up to drive himself deeper.

"Just load the last save," He quietly instructed, resting his chin on your collarbone and wondering if the camera was sharp enough to pick up how you shuddered at the hoarse sound of his voice, lips pressing together tightly to conceal the noise you were so desperate to make.

thesixeyes: he'd know lol he's already died like fifty times

"You havin' fun?" Choso ignored the chat, ignored the game, his attention entirely devoted by how much you were tensing up listening to him talk. Using his muscled forearm to add more pressure, not particularly caring how clingy of a boyfriend he probably looked on screen.

Who could blame him when his girlfriend was you?

If you were in the room, he had to be touching you, whether it was a hand on your waist or his mouth on your neck. He tried - really - to give you space, but it was like you had hollowed every inch of his heart out, everything empty without your touch, your scent, your warmth to fill the ache.

"Mhm," You made a tiny noise, blinking too fast, lashes fluttering too hard. Trying to discreetly grind down against him, search for any sort of friction to soothe the burn from being stuck and stretched in place. You started the save back up, eyes narrowing like you needed to focus just to die again at the first enemy that popped up. "Fuck."

"Sorry, sweetheart," He hummed, his hand drifting down and out of sight of the camera to rub against your poor, neglected clit. Massaging rough circles over the swollen bud, your entire body freezing at his heavy touch. "Keep trying."

Craning your head back to look at him, to shield your silent plea pout from your audience, his own muscles tensing at how cute you looked like that, your bottom lip pushed out and chewed up from how much you'd been biting it since you sat down. He wanted to kiss it, to tug it between his own teeth, to taste you on his tongue and trace every last inch of you.

"It's hard," Your complaint was strained, your thighs rustling together as you shifted your weight, like you couldn't decide if you should get up or stay there. He rolled your clit between two sturdy fingers though, your jaw going slack at the sudden sensation, your eyes practically glazed over and mouth in a pretty little 'o' as you kept your focus on him.

"You can handle it," Choso reassured, like sweat wasn't pricking at his own brows, a few loose strands of his bangs starting to stick to his forehead. Still, he nodded back towards the screen, your attention reluctantly returning to the game. "Keep going."

Watching you through the camera while all the assholes in chat watched him fuck you, the comments that had been cruel before now filled with cheesy compliments (and a few crude ones too that he'd be sure to take care of himself later.)

Your movements were jittery, fingers hitting the keys at the wrong time, missing hits even he thought were easy, somehow managing to get turned around and lost. Your face all scrunched together when you skimmed over the chat for tips as if Choso's wasn't currently smashed against your cervix. You were close, your breathing uneven, everything squeezing so hard like the pressure was too much, the tension ready to snap at any second.

"Do, I, um-" You paused, your pitchy voice struggling to finish like you were too fucked out to remember what you were trying to ask in the first place.

All it took was one more rough drag of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it was over, a moan you couldn't contain spilling out that, your hand flying over your mouth, attempting to disguise the sound as a cough while you scrunched your eyes closed.

"Feeling okay, princess?" He teased, muttering softly into your skin while your thighs trembled on top of his. The hazy look in your eyes, like you had half as many brain cells than what you came in there with.

"Just, uh, had something in my throat," You excused, sucking in a sharp breath while you squirmed from the constant stimulation. If you wanted something in your throat, he would be more than happy to oblige.

Anything for you.

"C'mon, baby, wanna try again?"

“What time?” You ask confused, pit patting toward the kitchen to make yourself a hot chocolate. You ponder for a moment with the cabinet doors open, thinking about whether to make him one too or not, finally shrugging and deciding on picking up his cup.

“You know. That time. Yuuji. At school,” he deadpans, breathing hard between words.

“What are you even talking about?” You respond, still not grabbing the concept, swirling a spoon in both cups. You just get a grunt that sounds awfully close to a whine from Sukuna. That’s such odd behaviour from him.

“Are you going to faint? Do you have a fever?” You say, now worried, reaching his still crouching form. You gently lift his face with one hand, putting the other one on his forehead. The way he lets you do it, compliantly and so naturally, worries you even more. He just stares at you, a little frown between his eyebrows, eyes a little bit lucid and he almost looks… he almost looks cute.

“You’re alright, big guy,” you softly say, booping his nose, getting your hands off of his face and hurrying back to your hot chocolate cups. He is definitely in a moment, because usually he would've bitten your whole finger off. He wrinkles his nose, scowling, before apparently realizing something and hastily getting up. He grabs your wrist and spins you around, but the strength he does it with whips you around so suddenly that you bump into his chest quite hard.

“What?!”

“You do it,” he tells you, crazy eyes wide open. He puts his rough hands on both your shoulders, stabilizing you, keeping you close enough to be able to talk to you properly but not far enough you can get away.

“What the fuck do I have to do now?” You bark, trying to wriggle out of his hold, unsuccessfully.

“Teach Yuuji about your sex parts, I’ll teach him about mine,” he rushes out, pleading eyes turned on your face.

You gape up at him, stopping your movements, and you stay like that for what feels like an eternity. You raise an eyebrow, as if asking him if he’s serious, but his expression doesn’t change. A snort comes out of your throat.

“You mean to tell me you’re fussing about having to talk about vaginas?” You ask him, now full on laughing in his face. He pushes you a bit, releasing you and grumbling.

“I’m not doing it,” he tells you, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know where to start! He came home asking me where the fuck the urethra is in females and I crashed out,” he shakes his head, distraught, your laugh still ringing in his ears.

“Do you even know the answer to that?” You smirk, turning around to put some whipped cream on your hot chocolate, and giving him his cup (no whipped cream: it's "too unhealthy" for him).

“Want me to point it out on your pussy, baby?” He scoffs, taking one big gulp of his drink.

You gasp, punching him in the stomach. He doesn’t budge and his smirk widens.

“You’re so crude. That’s it, I’m not doing it,” you tell him, walking past him, trying to contain your laugh about how his face drops immediately.

“No, wait- baby, you know I was joking,” he complains, following you toward the couch. Like a lost kitten following its owner when it hears the sound of croquettes.

“Why can’t you do it yourself anyway?” You chuckle. “Are you afraid of vaginas?”

“I wouldn’t be afraid of yours, that’s for sure,” he says, alluring, giving you a once over while you sit. He licks up a drop of chocolate left on his lower lip.

You scoff again. "Boo, bitch."

He tries a different approach. “You’re smarter than me on the subject, you’d be better than me anyway,” The act of complimenting someone is taking a toll on him. He grits his teeth.

“What am I getting out of this?” You grin, getting whipped cream on your nose and crossing your legs.

“Whatever you want, baby. Please, come on,” he crouches in front of you. “I even said please, see? You complained about it last week and I listened,” he croaks, clicking his tongue on his palate. Being nice is harder than he thought. If he has to keep it up he’s going to have a heart attack, he thinks.

“Yeah, because you want something out of it. It doesn’t count,” you sigh, closing your eyes. He shrugs. “But I’m in. I’m helping Yuuji on the big bad wolf his brother is scared of and you’re doing me a favor. Deal?”

“I’ll always deal with you, baby,” he winks. He leans over you, swiping the tip of your nose with his thumb, proceeding then to put his finger in his mouth.

“Stop with the double entendres!”

"Why don't you do this color?" asks Yuuji, next to you. There are 3 different shades of pink nail polish in front of you, and you've been thinking of which one to use on your nails for the past 10 minutes.

"I don't know, isn't it a little bit too pink-brownish?" you respond, tilting your head, pondering.

"Then this one. It matches my hair, so we could be matching!" the little kid says excitedly. Then he turns to look at you properly, the tip of his ears turning a deep red. "Only if you want, though," he continues, shily, averting your gaze after uttering the words.

Your heart squeezes painfully. "Of course I want to, Yuuji. I think that's the prettiest color out of the three," you say, ruffling his hair sweetily.

"Can you not stink the whole fucking place?" grumbles Sukuna entering the living room, grimace present on his face, barely nodding at Yuuji's wave.

"It's just a bit of nail polish, Itadori," you roll your eyes.

"I don't even know why you bother with that," he scoffs, going toward the couch, grabbing the tv remote.

"Because I'm pretty and I'm not a hater like someone else in this room," you throw back, scowling. He stays silent. "What, you don't think I'm pretty?" you ask, baffled. Sukuna side-eyes you, raising one eyebrow, before turning his gaze back to the tv.

"I think you're the prettiest," answers Yuuji in his brother's place, smiling.

"I can always count on you, Yuu," you coo, hugging him tight, and he chuckles, happy. Sukuna makes a weird sound, like he's actually disgusted about the topic.

"You know what? You're going to get some nail polish too," you say, pointing an accusatory finger in the oldest direction.

"Hell no," he immediately answers, glaring your way.

"Uhm, hell yes," you sneer.

"I said no, woman."

A light bulb figuratively pops up next to your face, and you grin, getting up and around the table to face him better. "Matter of fact, Sukuna, you owe me, so you'll do what I say."

He snaps his head toward you. "You wouldn't dare."

"Get your ass over here, big boy, you're getting your nails painted," you sing-song, doing a come here motion with your index finger. You see his jaw tick incredibly hard from where you stand, and he begrudgingly reaches you with his fists clenched.

"I hate you, bitch," he seethes when he's right in front of you.

"Can I get it too?!" screams Yuuji, bouncing up and down.

"Done," you say, delicately putting Sukuna's left hand on the table. After arguing for 15 minutes on the color, he only agreed to let you paint his nails black. If it was for you, he'd have at least 5 different colors on them. He hums.

"It's not that bad, is it?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. "I think I did a pretty good job. Black fits your hands really well," you ramble on, applying hand cream on his rough finger pads. Actually fucking training will do that to you, he barked when you complained about his callouses a few minutes ago.

"Stop acting like I'm one of your girls," sighs your roommate, shaking his pink roots.

"You're my main girl, Sukuna," you smirk, sending him a flying kiss.

He gags. "Never say that shit again or I'm pulling out your vocal chords with my new freshly done nails," he says, mocking you in the last part of the sentence, tilting his voice incredibly high.

"Ohhh. You actually like them, huh," you respond, seeing through his bluff, smiling with your full teeth on display. He scoffs, looking over at his now black nails. He has to admit, you did your thing with them.

"Like is a strong word."

"So, you... love them?"

when you and geto finally started dating, you thought, foolishly, that it might change things. that somehow gojo would let him go, just a little. but instead, it was like he tightened his grip, pressing himself deeper into the space between you. every date, every whisper, every tender moment was never just yours and geto’s—it was shared, distorted by gojo’s smirking presence. even the way they looked at each other felt invasive, as though they had a silent language you couldn’t decode, one that excluded you completely.

it was toxic, twisted. they shared everything. their obsession ran so deep they blurred the boundaries between them, as if each were only half a person without the other. clothes? gojo would wear geto’s hoodies, his scent still lingering, just to make sure you knew he was part of every piece of geto’s life. food? if you made lunch for geto, gojo would sit down and eat it too, grinning as though daring you to say anything. money, games—it was like they fed off each other, this endless loop of dependence, this twisted codependency that they wore proudly.

and the worst part? they shared you, too. oh, they never said it out loud, but you could feel it in the way gojo looked at you, in the way he’d touch your shoulder a little too casually, leaning in with that mocking smile that dared you to protest. when you’d be alone with geto, just the two of you, you’d feel gojo’s shadow creeping in, like he was watching from somewhere, his presence twisting the intimacy into something poisoned. even in the way geto held you, there was a feeling that he was holding something back, something reserved only for gojo.

and sometimes, it felt like they were playing with you, like you were a toy they could toss back and forth. gojo would flirt, sometimes in front of geto, pushing boundaries just enough to make you question if it was all a game between them. they thrived off your discomfort, your jealousy. you’d catch the way they’d glance at each other when you reacted, a knowing, shared smile that reminded you of how close they were, how little you really meant in comparison.

it was sickening, this twisted love triangle where you were always the outsider. you knew you’d never be enough, not when they were so tangled up in each other, not when they held this dark, toxic bond over you like a noose. they didn’t need you; you were just another thing to share, another piece of amusement in their endless, consuming obsession with each other. and no matter how much you wanted to escape, you found yourself sinking deeper, drawn to the toxicity, addicted to the way they could pull you in and push you out, like they owned every part of you without ever letting you truly belong.

over time, you stopped fighting it—the reality that satoru gojo would always be woven into your relationship with suguru geto. resisting it felt pointless, like struggling against a tide that only grew stronger the more you tried to pull away. so instead, you started to let go, letting yourself sink into this twisted, shared intimacy they’d built around you, a dark bond that the three of you played into with a silent, unspoken understanding.

it started out innocently enough. one evening, the three of you were sprawled out on the couch in geto’s apartment, and on a whim, you let yourself settle onto gojo’s lap instead of your boyfriend’s. you felt gojo’s hand fall naturally to your waist, his touch a little too possessive, his fingers pressing against your skin with an assurance that told you he’d been waiting for this. there was a quiet thrill in it, a reckless satisfaction in the way gojo’s lips curved into a smirk when he felt you relax against him.

you stole a glance at geto, expecting something—jealousy, annoyance, maybe even anger. but instead, he simply looked back at you with an amused gleam in his eyes, a joint held lazily between his fingers as he took a slow drag, watching the two of you with a dark, knowing smile. he looked...pleased, as if this was all part of some game he and gojo had orchestrated, and you were playing into their hands exactly as they’d intended.

and you found yourself sinking deeper, almost against your own will. you’d started slipping on gojo’s clothes when you stayed over, oversized shirts that hung low on your shoulders, sleeves falling past your wrists, the fabric smelling faintly of his cologne, a scent that clung to your skin long after you took it off. and every time you caught geto’s gaze on you, that same amused smirk on his lips, you felt something tighten in your chest, a mix of surrender and thrill as his silent approval sank deeper into your bones.

the lines blurred more and more. when you’d reach for geto’s hand, gojo’s fingers would trace along your arm, his touch just a little too intimate, a little too possessive, his hands wandering over your skin in a way that left no room for boundaries. and geto never stopped him. he would watch, almost transfixed, his eyes dark and smoldering, a smirk curling up at the edges of his lips as he watched gojo’s hand slide down your arm, settling on your thigh, as if you were a part of something they both owned.

you felt trapped, yet strangely exhilarated, like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous and addictive, a line between control and surrender that blurred every time you were with them. this wasn’t love—not the way most people understood it. it was twisted, possessive, a toxic bond that fed off your willingness to fall deeper into their world, letting go of any illusion that this could be anything but theirs to shape, control, and consume.

you lay stretched across geto's bed, sheets tangled around your bare body, the coolness against your heated skin a stark contrast to the warmth that still lingered between you. the room felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and intimacy, and though the AC droned quietly, the air still seemed charged, electric.

your eyes trailed over geto as he moved across the room, his every step exuding that slow, effortless confidence that had always pulled you in. his skin glistened under the dim light, long black hair tumbling down his shoulders, framing his toned, sculpted body as he reached for the drawer, seemingly unfazed by his own nakedness. there was something about him—calm, composed, yet unnervingly intense, his gaze almost predatory, as if he knew he had you exactly where he wanted.

you hadn’t meant to ask, but the question fell from your lips anyway, barely above a whisper, hesitant yet laced with a strange anticipation. “baby, when will satoru come?”

he paused, glancing back at you with a small, dark smile that sent a jolt through you, an unspoken threat wrapped in that unreadable look. his eyes roamed over your exposed body, his gaze possessive, almost as if he was savoring your vulnerability, the way you lay waiting, asking for another man, even as you lay tangled in his sheets.

“he’ll be here soon, doll,” he replied, voice smooth but carrying an edge that made your pulse quicken. there was something chilling in his tone, as if he enjoyed the way you looked to gojo’s arrival, enjoyed that your desire for them was something they held, something they could control and twist as they pleased. you felt the weight of it—the way you had slipped into their world, no longer your own person, but a part of their twisted game, something they could pass between themselves, a secret thrill they both indulged in.

his words left a dark impression, a reminder that your place here was more than just between them—it was within the cage they had set up, one where you’d come to accept that neither of them would ever really let you go.

you hum softly, acknowledging his answer without another word, and let the silence settle around you both, an almost tangible tension filling the room. there was an ease in that quiet, twisted as it was—an acceptance of the strange rhythm you'd all fallen into.

you watched as geto moved towards the bed, his steps unhurried but deliberate. he tossed a pack of condoms onto the nightstand with a casual, careless thud, then reached into the drawer, pulling out a joint as if this were just another evening between the three of you. he lit it without a second glance, inhaling deeply, that calm intensity radiating off him.

just then, the door creaked open, and gojo’s voice filled the room, a mocking lilt in his words that was all too familiar. “it smells like sex in here,” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement. his eyes scanned the scene, taking in geto’s bare form standing by the bed, and he let out a low whistle, a playful grin spreading across his face.

geto rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke, but there was a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, a flicker of something darkly amused as he watched his best friend stride in without hesitation.

gojo’s sharp blue eyes found yours, and in that instant, the atmosphere shifted, charged with a new intensity. he looked at you with that familiar, arrogant gleam, his gaze trailing over you, unashamed and piercing, like he was assessing exactly what he was about to walk into. there was a possessiveness in his gaze, a twisted understanding between the three of you that none of you needed to say out loud—this was just the way things were, a silent pact wrapped in tension, indulgence, and the thrill of pushing boundaries that none of you cared to pull back from.

you looked over at him, watching the way he stepped inside without hesitation, his eyes glinting with that same twisted amusement as he took in the scene, as if he were right at home in this dark, tangled intimacy. he closed the door behind him, his gaze drifting between you and geto, a satisfied smirk on his face that promised more than just another night together—it was a reminder of the possessive, toxic hold the two of them shared over you, a shared addiction you were all too willing to sink into. “finished your class?” you ask as he waltz closer to bed, throwing his bag mindlessly to the floor.

gojo’s smile grew wider at your question, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped off his jacket and tossed it aside, his body moving with a careless, fluid grace that was as intimidating as it was captivating.

“you know how it is, doll,” he said, his voice a low, husky taunt. “just few more exams and i’m free for weeks,” he paused, his gaze flickering down, his eyes tracing the lines of your body just the way geto’s did, a hunger you found hard to resist.

“but now,” he continued, his smirk growing darker, “i’m all yours,” he finished for himself, his words a wicked promise as he finally climbed onto the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight. his gaze was fixed on yours, as if he were savoring the fact that for now, you were entirely at his mercy, a twisted game he and geto had both learned to play all too well.

you hummed softly, a quiet acknowledgment as you shifted, adjusting yourself to rest your head on geto’s bare, toned thighs. he had settled comfortably on the bed, back pressed against the headboard, completely unbothered by his lack of clothes, the cool confidence in his gaze unwavering as he looked down at you with a possessive sort of satisfaction. it was as if he reveled in the fact that both you and gojo seemed right where he wanted.

reaching up, you plucked the joint from his fingers, taking a slow drag as the haze filled your lungs, adding to the already charged atmosphere of the room. your other hand drifted upward, fingers tracing the edge of gojo’s collar, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as your eyes locked with his. there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze, a dark spark that told you he knew exactly what game the three of you were playing.

gojo’s eyes flickered with a familiar, playful amusement at your gesture, his gaze locked with yours as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow kiss. the joint passed from your fingers to his, a silent dance between your bodies. he took a leisurely drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that hung in the air before fading away, his hand sliding down to your throat, a gentle yet firm touch that had a dark thrill pooling inside you.

“you already started without me, huh?” he murmured, his voice a teasing reproach as his lips trailed from your mouth down to your neck, every touch a promise of more to come. “or is dollie here too impatient to wait?” he added, a slight hint of arrogant confidence in his tone, as if he knew exactly how intoxicating this game between the three of you was, and how helpless you were to resist. each word sent chills down your spine, his touch a potent mix of pleasure and danger, a dark thril only a man like gojo could provide.

you smirked, a playful glint in your eyes as you took the joint from gojo’s fingers, holding his gaze with a teasing challenge. inhaling deeply, you let the smoke settle before exhaling slowly, every move deliberate, as if to show him you were just as unbothered as he pretended to be.

“maybe i wanted to spend some time alone with my boyfriend,” you murmured, your tone laced with mischief as your fingers traced an idle pattern on geto’s thigh. “before a certain intruder decided to barge in and ruin our peace.” the words dripped with sarcasm, but there was no denying the thrill that sparked in your veins, knowing exactly how gojo would react to your challenge.

gojo raised a brow, his trademark smirk deepening as he leaned closer, undeterred by your taunt. his fingers trailed over your covered-with-hickeys-collarbone, brushing against your skin with a touch that was both mocking and possessive, as if to remind you that this game was one you willingly walked into.

beside you, geto chuckled, a dark, approving sound as he took the joint back from you, his hand steady as he brought it to his lips. his eyes glinted with amusement, enjoying the twisted banter between you and gojo, like he relished watching the two of you push and pull in this dangerous, addictive dance. the lines between you all had long since blurred, and in that moment, it was clear that none of you had any intention of stopping.

gojo’s hand slid down, teasingly tracing the edge of the thin sheet around your chest, a playful smile playing on his lips as he met your gaze. “spoil your peace, huh?” he taunted, his voice low and teasing. “doll, you make it sound like i’ve done nothing but ruin your life.”

a mock pout formed on his lips, his fingers still toying with the sheet, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “or,” he paused, his thumb suddenly brushing against your cleavage, hovering just upper your bare breast, “maybe you enjoy the chaos a little more than you’re letting on.”

his free hand toyed with your chin, tilting your face up to his with an affectionate touch, his eyes locked with yours with an almost predatory look—a glimmer of darker desire, as if he was savoring the way your breath hitched beneath his fingers.

“after all,” he murmured, his voice a low husky note, “your body certainly seems to respond quite well to my... intrusions.” he paused, and a sharp edge crept into his tone, his fingers lightly squeezing your throat. “maybe i should remind you that you’re the one who keeps coming back for more.”

a sly grin tugged at the corners of your lips, your eyes never leaving gojo’s as he teased you. you knew this game all too well—the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the subtle taunts in his words, the way he constantly pushed boundaries just because he could. it was as intoxicating as it was infuriating, an addictive mix of pleasure and pain that only he seemed to be able to provide.

his touch was a subtle dance between light and heavy, his fingers teasing at the sheet covering your body as he spoke, the fabric brushing against your sensitive skin with every flicker of his wrist.

“i’m coming back for my lovely boyfriend, over here,” you said, eyes momentarily flickering to your boyfriend before going back to gojo. “for your information,” you added.

a dark gleam flashed in gojo’s eyes, a smirk playing on his lips in response to your challenge. “well, doll,” he murmured, his fingers tightening possessively around your throat, “i wouldn’t want to disappoint your boyfriend by depriving you of him.” his lips brushed against yours, a slow, taunting kiss that carried a promise of darker desires and a twisted addiction that went far beyond mere lust.

his touch never relented, his fingers tracing the curves of your body, teasingly brushing against your sensitive spots, as he pressed himself against you, a silent reminder of his control in this moment, of the power he held with a single stroke or word. he broke the kiss with a playful nip at your bottom lip, his lips lingering close to yours in a taunting reminder of what had been.

geto snorted, rolling his eyes at gojo’s words, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he watched his best friend’s possessive display. bringing the joint to his lips, he took a slow, deliberate drag, his gaze never leaving the two of you, clearly entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him.

“you wish, satoru,” he murmured, a trace of mockery lacing his tone. his eyes glinted with a lazy confidence as he looked at gojo, as though he found the whole display a touch amusing, like he was the only one in on some private joke. he exhaled a cloud of smoke, letting it drift between you all, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“don’t flatter yourself too much, you are here, touching her because i let you,” he added, his voice low and almost taunting. with an unhurried ease, he leaned back, fingers tapping against his knee as he watched gojo’s grip on you. there was a quiet satisfaction in his gaze, like he was reveling in this twisted push and pull between the three of you, his best friend’s possessive game only fueling his amusement.

gojo shot geto a challenging glance, his grip on your throat tightening in response. “oh please,” he scoffed, a dangerous smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, “as if you have a choice, suguru. we both know she’s as much mine as yours,” his voice dropped, a dark edge in his tone as he leaned closer to you, as if sharing a secret.

“and besides, we both know you love...watching me make her fall apart.” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your cheek, a teasing brush that sent shivers down your spine.

your breath hitched, a soft, almost involuntary whimper slipping from your lips as gojo’s grip tightened around your throat, just enough to send a heady rush through your veins. you felt his words settle like a dark promise, the teasing graze of his lips against your cheek sparking a thrill and a twisted ache. but even as the sensation built, you noticed geto’s gaze on you, his eyes flicking from your flushed face to gojo, a silent warning embedded in his expression.

“not too tight, satoru,” geto’s voice cut in, low and edged with a possessive restraint, his words firm. the relaxed smirk was gone now, replaced with a flash of something darker, a reminder that his tolerance had its limits. he didn’t mind sharing you, letting gojo push and tease, but only within a boundary he alone dictated. there was a quiet jealousy simmering under his calm exterior—a need to protect what was originally his, even if he indulged in this dangerous game.

the tension in the room thickened as gojo met geto’s warning with a mischievous glint in his eyes, though he relented, loosening his grip just enough. his fingers softened against your throat, his smirk deepening as he brushed his thumb along your skin in a lingering, possessive touch, savoring the shiver he knew it caused. you could feel the silent power struggle between them—both claiming parts of you in their own ways, both determined not to let go.

“aww, what’s wrong, suguru?” gojo murmured, his tone teasing as he pulled back, his eyes fixed on geto’s, almost daring him to react. he could feel your breathing quicken beneath his touch, the quiet hitch in your throat sending a thrill through his veins.

he shifted, his other hand trailing down, tracing the curve of your jaw with almost casual possessiveness. “we both know she likes it when i’m a little... rough.” his voice was a deep, seductive purr, a challenge and a promise all at once.

and through it all, you remained caught in the middle of their twisted game, a pawn in their power struggle and a willing participant in their twisted desires. you could feel the heat from their touches, the possessive gazes that seemed to strip you bare and claim you at the same time.

“just a little bit tighter,” you heard yourself saying, the words leaving your lips before your brain could register their full meaning. they were both surprised, their eyes flashing with lust and dominance at your bold request. “i know i can take it,” you added, your voice husky and filled with a deep...

a dark gleam sparkled in gojo's eyes, a pleased grin spreading across his face at your bold words. “well, well, well,” he murmured, his tone amused and dangerous all at once, “if our little doll wants to play a bit rougher, who am i to deny her?” he paused, his grip tightening a bit more around your throat as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours.

“as long as suguru doesn’t mind sharing the fun, of course.” he teased, his gaze flickering to geto, challenging him to intervene.

a low, daring whisper left your lips, your words laced with a challenge of your own. “he won’t,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, yet filled with conviction. you tightened your hold on gojo, your legs slipping around his waist, pulling him even closer until there was barely any space left between you. a sly smile teased your lips as you watched that dangerous gleam in his eyes flare even brighter at your response.

with a deliberate slowness, you leaned in, your mouth brushing his, igniting a kiss that was as much a taunt as it was an invitation. the thrill of pushing the limits coursed through you, fueling the tension sparking between the three of you. you knew geto was watching, his silent, unyielding gaze never wavering. and yet, despite his possessiveness, he allowed it, that quiet permission hovering in the air, heightening every brush and press of gojo’s lips on yours.

your fingers tangled in gojo’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, each movement charged with a dark thrill. you knew this was exactly the kind of game they thrived on, the thrill of shared control, each boundary tested and savored.

a low, amused chuckle escaped gojo’s lips as you teased him, the feel of your legs around him sending a jolt of desire through him. “seems like somebody’s feeling awfully confident,” he murmured, his voice a soft taunt as he broke the kiss, leaving you yearning for more. he pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze wicked and intense, yet with a soft edge that softened his arrogance.

he leaned back, his hands falling from your body, letting go for a moment, but only for a moment, as he reached for something on the night stand.

geto’s eyes remained fixed on the scene unfolding before him, his expression unreadable behind the haze of smoke curling from his lips. the joint dangled forgotten between his fingers as he watched, transfixed, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. his free hand slid down his abdomen, tracing the lines of muscle before dipping lower, toward the growing arousal on his cock that already start to harden.

the room was heavy with tension, the air thick with the scent of sex and weed.

but the absence of gojo’s touch was short-lived, as his hand soon returned, a familiar bottle of lube held between his fingers. he smirked, his gaze locked with yours, as he flipped the lid open with a soft click, the sound echoing softly in the quiet room. “let’s see how confident you really are, doll,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he moved closer to you, his lips finding your ear.

you frowned, a hint of annoyance in your gaze as you looked up at gojo, catching his smirk as he held the bottle. “i told you i don’t like using lube,” you murmured, a defiant edge in your voice. there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he simply shrugged, as if undeterred by your words.

you felt geto’s warm hand rest gently on your head, his fingers threading softly through your hair in a silent reassurance. glancing up, you caught his calm gaze, that subtle smirk on his lips as he watched you, his quiet approval a steady contrast to gojo’s boldness. for a moment, you felt an odd balance between them—the steady, grounded touch of geto and the daring, relentless energy of gojo, already in the process of stripping down. your gaze shifted back to gojo, who seemed unfazed about your disapproval.

“tough luck, doll,” gojo said with a casual grin, his tone light and teasing, as if he wasn’t bothered by your disapproval at all. his eyes sparkled with lust and a touch of playfulness, his fingers moving to his belt to unfasten it, teasingly slow, almost as if making a show of it.

meanwhile, geto’s steady touch continued to provide you a silent assurance, his fingers soothing your hair with a gentle caress. he seemed relaxed yet amused at this unexpected turn of events, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he watched you and gojo.

gojo’s pants and underwear quickly followed, slipping off his fit frame and leaving him bare before you. he stepped forward, a cocky twist of his hips emphasizing his confidence as he came between your spread legs, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing manner.

you frowned, unable to hide your irritation as you shot gojo a pointed look. “you’re so cocky it’s annoying,” you quipped, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. despite your words, you found yourself instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. the moment your lips met, it was electric—his teasing grin melting into something deeper, more primal, as he responded eagerly to your kiss.

gojo’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, deepening the kiss with an intensity that set your pulse racing. despite your earlier protest, you felt a thrill coursing through you, the way he melted against you, how his body felt—so confident, so alive. it was intoxicating, that dance between annoyance and desire, and you couldn't help but lose yourself in it as the world around you faded away.

gojo’s hand moved in a swift, fluid motion, yanking the thin sheet away from your body, leaving your bare skin exposed to both his gaze and geto’s steady presence beside you. his blue eyes roamed over you, a mixture of admiration and possession flickering in their depths, as if he were taking in every inch of you, committing it to memory.

beside him, geto’s dark gaze was equally intense, filled with a quieter yet unmistakable pride as he watched you. there was something almost predatory in the way the two of them looked at you, as if they were both savoring the sight, each in their own distinct way. gojo’s hand reached out, brushing along your shoulder, then down, slow and deliberate, his fingertips grazing your skin with an expert familiarity that made your heart race.

“there she is,” gojo murmured, his voice a blend of tease and awe, his hand lingering on you as his gaze flicked briefly to geto, a silent acknowledgment between them. it was a moment that hung in the air, charged and heavy, a silent understanding of the unusual bond the three of you shared.

gojo’s breath hitched as he watched you pull him closer, his cock hardening against your thigh as he ground himself against you, the friction sending waves of pleasure through him. his hand trailed down your side, fingertips dancing along your curves, teasing and exploring every inch of your body. “fuck... you’re so goddamn hot,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

geto sat back, watching the scene unfold with rapt attention, his own arousal evident in the air. his hand moved slowly, stroking himself painfully slow as he took in the erotic display before him. “that’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. “show him what he’s been missing.”

gojo grinned wickedly, his hand slipping between your thighs, his fingers teasing your entrance, finding you wet and ready.

geto’s eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold before him, a hint of jealousy flickering across his features as gojo’s hands explored your body with such intimate familiarity. yet, beneath that flash of emotion, there was a sense of pride, a satisfaction in seeing you, his girlfriend respond so openly to gojo’s touches, his best friend.

his grip tightened ever so slightly on your hair, a silent reminder of his presence, his claim over you. his other hand trailed down his torso, fingers brushing lightly over his nipples before dipping lower, wrapping around his semi-hard shaft. he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, matching the languid pace of gojo’s movements above you.

geto’s breathing grew heavier as he watched, the haze of marijuana smoke curling around him adding to the surreal atmosphere before he let go of your hair, afraid he might get the ashes to your beautiful skin.

your breath caught as gojo’s fingers brushed against your entrance, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. you could feel the heat emanating from his body, his hardness pressing insistently against you, and it only fueled the fire within.

“please...” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. the plea was instinctive, a desperate need for more, for him to fill you, to claim you completely.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph and lust. “so impatient,” he purred. gojo’s smirk widened, eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of triumph and lust. “so impatient,” he purred, his tone a mocking whisper that sent a chill down your spine. with a slow, almost taunting motion, he flipped open the cap of the lube bottle, his gaze never leaving yours as he squeezed a small amount onto his fingers.

the cool sensation of it touched your skin, a stark contrast against the heat between the three of you. his fingers worked the slick liquid over your pussy, every movement purposeful, as if he were savoring the way your body responded to his touch. his smirk deepened, reveling in the power he held in this moment.

“i thought you didn’t like using lube,” gojo teased, a wicked glint in his eye as he rubbed the slippery substance over your sensitive flesh. his fingers circled your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch into his touch.

geto groaned appreciatively at the sight, his hand working slowly over his own straining erection before letting go. “she loves it, man,” he rumbled. “she just likes to pretend she doesn’t.”

gojo chuckled lowly, inserting one finger into your tight heat, marveling at how easily it slid inside thanks to the generous coating of lubricant. he pumped it in and out slowly, steadily building the tension coiling within you. “you’re dripping for me, angel,” he breathed. “don’t lie to yourself.”

geto observed quietly, puffing leisurely on his joint as he watched gojo work you open with his fingers. he admired the view of your cunt presented enticingly in front of him. geto’s eyes raked over your form greedily, devouring the sight of your voluptuous figure writhing under gojo’s ministrations. a part of him wanted to reach out and touch, to add his fingers alongside gojo’s in stretching you wide, but he stop himself, letting his best friend having his way with his girlfriend.

you gasped sharply as gojo’s finger pushed deeper inside you, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. the stretch burned deliciously, stoking the flames of your desire higher. “ah! f-fuck...” you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily, seeking more of that sweet friction.

geto’s heated gaze followed the line of your body, drinking in every twitch and shudder. he leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he spoke. “look at you, taking him so well,” he praised huskily, “such a good girl for us.”

the filthy words sent a fresh gush of arousal trickling down your thighs. you could feel how soaked you were getting, your juices mingling obscenely with the lube gojo kept pumping into you before he suddenly stopped and pulled away just a beat to open the drawer by the bed. gojo retrieved the vibrator, its sleek shape glinting in the dim light.

“shhh...” gojo whispered, his finger still buried deep inside you the heartbeat he felt your body tense., feeling your walls quiver around him. “just relax, baby.” he withdrew his digit with agonizing slowness, eliciting a needy whine from you. the toy buzzed to life, its vibrations sending tingles up your spine. gojo pressed it firmly against your swollen clit, holding it there while you thrashed beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure.

“that’s it,” he purred, watching your face contort in ecstasy. “let it take you.”

geto’s eyes drank in the debauched picture you made, your chest heaving and your thighs trembling as the toy worked its magic. he licked his lips hungrily, transfixed by the way your body responded to their ministrations.

gojo’s grin turned positively feral as he switched on the vibrator to next level, the buzzing filling the air, more intense. “let’s see how long you can last,” he challenged darkly, running the toy teasingly over your sensitive folds without directly touching where you needed it most.

geto inhaled deeply, savoring the rich taste of cannabis mixed with your sweet scent. “you’re playing with fire, bro, you’re about to ruin my girlfriend,” he drawled amusedly, noting the strained tension in your muscles as you tried not to beg shamelessly. he could tell gojo was thoroughly enjoying torturing you with need, pushing your boundaries. he can’t help but smirk while he takes another drag, filling his lung with smoke.

his eyes were glued to the erotic show, gojo now sliding two thick digits knuckle-deep inside your soaked cunt while the toy worked relentless circles around your swollen clit. “god damn, baby.”

the dual sensations of gojo's fingers plunging into your depths and the vibrator's relentless stimulation drove you to the brink of madness. your mind went blank, consumed entirely by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. all coherent thought fled, replaced by a primal urge to chase the peak of ecstasy looming just out of reach.

“please... oh fuck, please!” you begged, your voice cracking with desperation. the words spilled from your lips unbidden, a wanton plea for release. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pressure built, threatening to shatter you utterly.

geto’s low chuckle vibrated through you after he takes another drag, a dark promise of things to come. “she’s close,” he observed, his gaze locked on the way your body tensed and quivered. “i wonder how long we can keep her teetering on the edge.”

“oh, i don't know,” gojo replied with a wicked grin, his fingers curling inside you as he felt your inner walls clenching around them. “maybe until she screams,” he added, his voice dropping an octave lower, filled with dark intent.the vibrations of the toy intensified, becoming almost too much to bear. gojo watched, mesmerized, as you arched your back and threw your head back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. your nails dug into the sheets, the fabric tearing slightly under the force of your grip.

“fuck, look at her,” geto growled, his free hand reaching out to cup your bouncing breast, giving it a rough squeeze. “she’s a goddamn mess.” with a swift twist of his wrist, gojo removed the vibrator, denying you the relief you craved.

you let out a choked sob as the vibrator was abruptly taken away, leaving you empty and aching. your body trembled violently, overwhelmed by the sudden absence of stimulation. tears streamed freely down your face, blurring your vision. “no, please... satoru,” you whimpered brokenly, your hips lifting off the bed in a futile attempt to seek friction. “i need… i need…”

gojo tutted softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “ah ah ah, not yet, angel. you don’t get to cum until i say so.” his fingers continued their torturous dance inside you, stretching you wider than ever before. the wet squelch of your arousal filled the room, obscene and lewd. geto hummed approvingly, pinching your nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.

gojo grinned wolfishly, relishing the power he held over you. your pleas only spurred him on, driving him to push you further. he scissored his fingers apart, spreading you impossibly wide as he pumped them in and out of your dripping core.

“beg harder, sweetheart,” he purred sadistically, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. “convince him of how badly you need it.” geto chuckled darkly, trailing his fingertips down your sweat-slicked stomach before dipping between your legs to collect some of your essence. he brought his coated fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan of appreciation.

“delicious,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “almost as sweet as the sounds of you pleading for our cocks.”

desperate, you writhed beneath them, your body a living flame of need. each thrust of gojo's fingers sent jolts of electric pleasure racing up your spine, making you keen with longing. “please, satoru!” you cried, your voice raw with emotion. “need to cum, want it— ohh, god!” your words tumbled out in a frantic rush, each one a desperate plea for release. tears streaked your flushed cheeks as you stared up at gojo, your eyes wild and pleading.

geto’s dirty talk only fueled the fire within you, your pussy clenching greedily around gojo's invading digits. the sight of him sucking your juices from his fingers, the hungry gleam in his eye, made you shudder with anticipation.

ignoring your plea, gojo turns his attention to your boyfriend. he takes his fingers out of your cunt to hold both of your knees, spread them apart. his hips sway slowly, making a way for hardened cock to make contact with your dripping fold, coating his flesh with your essence.

“let me fuck her raw,” gojo said to geto, confidently, his blue eyes form like a twin blue flames. geto might shared you with him, but he also have limits, a bound gojo couldn’t cross, one of them is; fucking you raw and cum inside you. you are his girlfriend after all, and even so, he can get jealous and possessive no matter how nonchalant and unbothered he is about the shared dynamic.

gojo grinned at geto’s concern, seemingly oblivious to the unease it caused. he knew the limits he had set, and he had no intention of crossing them, at least with someone as precious as his best friend’s girlfriend. “i’ll be gentle,” gojo promised— lie, his voice soothing as he rubbed your inner thigh reassuringly. his cock twitched against your slick folds, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.

geto’s eyes narrowed at gojo’s bold request, a flicker of jealousy passing through his expression despite his usual nonchalance. he took a long drag from his joint, holding the smoke in his lungs as he considered the proposition.

after exhaling slowly, he fixed gojo with a stern look, his voice low and measured. “now, satoru, you know the rules. no bareback, not with her.” his hand slid possessively over your cheek down to your neck and shoulder, a subtle reminder of your relationship.

gojo smirked at geto’s words, unfazed by the warning tone. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against geto's ear as he whispered conspiratorially, “come on, suguru. where’s your sense of adventure? live a little.”

geto rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “you’re insatiable, you know that?” he accused playfully, even as his own desire stirred at the thought of watching gojo take you bare.

gojo just grinned, undeterred. he trailed his fingers along your knees. “i know what i want,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “and right now, i want to feel her tight little cunt wrapped around my cock, no barriers between us.” he punctuated his words with a slow, deliberate grind of his erection against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness. the sensation was exquisite, and he could tell by the sharp intake of breath from geto that he wasn't the only one affected.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations, you moaned loudly, your body arching off the bed as gojo’s thick cockhead pressed insistently against your sensitive entrance. the feeling of his hot skin, slick with your arousal, sent shivers down your spine.

“satoru..” you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his. “stop talking and fuck me already,” your words were barely coherent, spoken through gritted teeth as you struggled to breathe through the pleasure-pain of being stretched so wide.

geto’s touch on your skin only heightened your awareness, making every nerve ending sing with need. you felt his eyes on you, burning with a mix of lust and possessiveness, and it only fueled your desire to submit to gojo’s advances.

gojo chuckled darkly at your demand, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left you breathless. his tongue delved deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as he intended to claim your body.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes were blazing with hunger. “as you wish, angel,” he purred, his voice a sinful promise. with agonizing slowness, he began to sink into your welcoming heat, inch by delicious inch— earning a glare from geto for fucking his girlfriend raw.

your gasp turned into a throaty moan as he filled you completely, his girth stretching you beyond anything you’d ever experienced. geto’s hands roamed over your trembling form, tweaking your nipples and caressing your curves as if memorizing every dip and swell.

“look at you,” geto growled appreciatively, his gaze locked on the erotic sight of you impaled on gojo's thick cock. “so fucking perfect, taking him like that.” his fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the swollen nub.

gojo groaned, his hips stilling for a moment as he savored the feel of your tight heat enveloping him. then, with a primal grunt, he began to move— long, deep strokes that dragged across your sensitive walls and made you see stars.

each thrust drove him deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. geto matched his rhythm, his fingers pumping your clit in time with gojo’s relentless pace. the dual stimulation pushed you closer to the edge, your orgasm building with terrifying speed.

“fuck, she’s so tight, can’t believe you let me fuck this cunt with condom on—ohh..” gojo’s words were cut off by a guttural moan as he pistoned into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. the sheer intensity of his movements stole your breath, leaving you a mindless, quivering mess beneath him.

geto smirked at gojo’s words, his ego stroked by the obvious envy in the other man’s voice. “what can i say? i like to keep the best for myself,” he replied smugly, continuing his ministrations on your clit.

gojo snorted derisively, but there was no real malice behind it. he focused his efforts on driving into you harder, faster, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your willing body.

the change in angle hit a spot deep inside you, and suddenly you were teetering on the brink, your entire world narrowing down to the exquisite friction of gojo’s cock pounding into you and geto’s fingers circling your clit.

“oh god, oh god, oh fuuuuck!”

your cries of ecstasy echoed through the room as gojo fucked you with ruthless abandon, his blue eyes blazing with unbridled lust. sweat dripped down his chiseled torso, plastering his silver hair to his forehead as he ravaged your willing body.

geto watched, transfixed, his own arousal straining against the air. the obscene sight of gojo pounding into you, combined with the intoxicating scent of sex, had him teetering on the brink of his own climax.

“yeah, take it all, angel,” gojo hissed, his tempo increasing. “love feeling you squeeze my cock so good.” he reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit after swatting geto’s hand away. pinching and rolling the sensitive bud in time with his thrusts, he coaxed your impending orgasm to the surface.

but before neither him nor you get a chance to drown in the climax, gojo abruptly stops and withdraws himself from your sucking cunt, earning a breathless whimper from you— a wordless way of yours to complain about the losing feeling.

gojo’s hands gripping your waist to position you on your side, leaving your knees before throwing one of your legs over his shoulder while he trapped the other between his thighs. gojo grab a vibrator that he abandoned to the bed earlier before kissing the material to your swollen folds. “hold it, baby,” he said. you obey without a second thought, gazing up to meet your boyfriend’s eyes— realizing you’re on eye level with his hardened cock. geto smirk the moment he gazes down to you, a halo of smoke dancing around the air.

geto smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief as he took in the lewd picture you made. “looks like someone’s eager for a taste,” he teased, his hand coming to rest possessively on the back of your head after he crushed the joint to the ashtray.

gojo just grinned wickedly, positioning the buzzing toy against your entrance. “be a good girl and suck him off while i make you cum,” he instructed, his voice rough with desire.

with that, with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the vibrator, the buzzing motor sending electric shocks straight to your core. gojo pressed it firmly against your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. your back arched, a high pitched whine escaping your lips as the device probed your sensitive flesh, stimulating you. your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction, even as you leaned forward to take geto’s throbbing length into your mouth. geto groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you to take him deeper.

moaning wantonly around geto’s thick shaft, you surrendered yourself fully to the overwhelming sensations assaulting your senses. the vibrations from the toy against your aching clit had your toes curling, your thighs trembling with the force of your impending release.

gojo watched hungrily as you sucked his friend off, his free hand stroking his own impressive erection. the sight of you, so wanton and debauched, only served to stoke his own arousal higher. “that’s it, angel,” he praised, his voice strained. “take him deep, just like that. fuck, you look so hot with his cock down your throat.”

his filthy words spurred you on, and you hollowed your cheeks, taking geto as far as you could manage. gojo’s hands finding your thigh, hold it firmly to his chest before his one hand guiding his cock to your pucker hole. his glisten tips kissing your anal sex for a moment before gently pushing into the tighten hole making you squeal in pain and pleasure.

geto’s grip on your hair tightened as he thrust deeper, his hips rocking in time with the vibrations of the toy against your clit. “mmm, just like that, baby,“ he groaned, his thighs flexing against your face. “gonna fill your throat with my cum soon.”

at the same moment, gojo slowly pushed past your initial resistance, the broad head of his cock spreading your anal ring wide. a sharp gasp escaped you as he sank in, inch by delicious inch, until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat.

“fuck, you’re so tight back here,” he breathed, his hands roaming your sides and back, pulling you flush against him. “loving how you stretch around me.”

geto felt your throat constrict around him as you struggled to accommodate both cocks, and it only heightened his pleasure. once fully seated, both men started to move— gojo setting a deep, grinding pace while geto fucked your face with shallow thrusts. they quickly fell into a rhythm, sandwiching you between their hard bodies.

overwhelmed by sensation, you surrendered completely to the dual penetration, your body responding instinctively to the relentless stimulation. the toy continued its merciless assault on your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge.

gojo’s hands gripped your thigh bruisingly as he slammed into yo, his thick cock stretching you deliciously. “fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he grunted, his rhythm faltering slightly. “gonna fill this tight little ass up.” you are laying on your side uncomfortably with your head slightly in the air on geto’s thighs while gojo still hold your leg against his chest, resting about the blade of his shoulder.

geto’s grip on your hair tightened, holding you in place “good, good, fucking good girl. always warm and wet for me,” he panted, his hips snapping forward roughly. your muffled moans grew louder, more desperate, as the coil within you wound tighter and tighter. gojo’s grip on your thigh firm and desperate, almost bruise.

“mmm,” you groan, voice muffled by geto’s cock. the vibration sends geto spiraling, throwing his head back to the headboard just a heartbeat before gritting through his teeth along with him tighten his fist on your hair.

“come on, angel,” gojo growled, his hips pistoning frantically now. “i know you're close. come for us. let go.”

geto grabbed the toy from your hand, pressing it right up against your swollen nub. “you heard him, sweetheart. cum for us like a good girl,” he hums, tugging your head down to take him whole and his tip kissing your throat.

he flicked the toy up to max power, the intense vibrations ripping a scream from your throat. gojo redoubled his efforts, slamming into you so hard the headboard shook. that devilish, wicked smile found its way to gojo’s face once again. “good, good, baby, feels good yeah?” he chuckle when your body trembling beneath him.

unable to form coherent thoughts, you simply existed in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure. every nerve ending was alight, singing with ecstasy as gojo and geto worked you over relentlessly.

the toy’s brutal vibrations shattered what remained of your control, sending you hurtling towards oblivion. your inner walls clenched around gojo’s pistoning cock, rippling and milking him as your orgasm crashed over you in waves.

“cum.. gonna cum,” you wailed, your vision blurring at the edges as you came undone. your pussy spasmed, gushing around gojo’s cock as he drove into you. hearing your desperate wailing, geto pressed the toy harder which tears a fluid from your cunt, wetting the bed. “i—oh god, fuckkkk.”

gojo’s eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he felt your pussy clench around him. you quaked and thrashed beneath them, gojo held himself still, buried to the hilt in your clenching heat. geto didn’t relent either, keeping the vibrator humming away at your oversensitive clit, making sure to prolong your exquisite torment. they wanted to draw out your pleasure, making sure to prolong your exquisite torment. savoring the exquisite feeling of your body writhing helplessly around them.

gojo’s rhythm falters for a brief moment, allowing you to catch your breath, then he resumes his relentless pounding, each thrust hitting a spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. “fuck yes, just like that,” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

geto watched intently as you squirred, a low, appreciative whistle escaping him. “damn, look at her drench the sheets,” he murmured, turning the toy up another notch. the additional stimulation sent you careening towards another peak, your body trembling and twitching uncontrollably.

gojo’s eyes rolled back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he felt your cunt clench around him, milking his cock for all it was worth. “fuck, fuck, angel! good girl, such a good fu-fucking girl,” he roared, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own peak.

geto’s grip on your hair tightened painfully, his hips jerking against your face as he fought to hold back his own release. “not yet, not without her...” he hissed through clenched teeth, his cock pulsing in your mouth.

the toy never ceased its merciless assault, keeping you teetering on the brink of another orgasm even as you were still riding out the aftershocks of the last one. gojo and geto seemed determined to wring every drop of pleasure from you, to leave you a quivering, spent mess in their wake.

your body trembled violently, your mind hazy with lust and exhaustion. the relentless stimulation had reduced you to a babbling, incoherent mess, your pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

“please…” you whimpered, unsure if you were begging for release or for them to stop. your body was no longer your own, every nerve ending raw and exposed, sensitive to the slightest touch.

gojo’s thrusts became more erratic, his grip on your hips bruising as he chased his own pleasure. “almost there, angel... gonna fill this sweet ass up.” his words were punctuated by harsh grunts and groans, his rhythm faltering as he neared his peak.

geto’s fingers dug into your scalp, holding you in place as he fucked your face with abandon. “that’s it, baby, take it all,” lost in a sea of overwhelming sensations, you could only surrender to the relentless onslaught of pleasure. your body moved independently of your mind, arching and writhing as gojo and geto took you apart piece by piece.

gojo’s cock hammered into you, each thrust driving you further up the bed. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your high-pitched keens and geto’s low, encouraging groans. you could feel gojo swelling inside you, his rhythm growing more erratic as he neared his end.

geto’s fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your face with short, sharp jabs. the toy buzzed furiously against your clit, pushing you inexorably towards another shattering climax.

with a guttural roar, gojo plunged deep, his cock throbbing and jerking as he spilled his hot seed directly into your clenching depths. his hips bucked wildly, grinding against yours as he rode out his intense orgasm, filling you to the brim with his thick, potent cum.

geto groaned long and low, his grip on your hair and scalp flexing with the force of his impending release. he rammed his cock into your mouth one final time, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he erupted with a strangled cry. his cum flooded your mouth, coating your tongue and the roof of your mouth as he pumped spurt after spurt of his release down your eager throat.

the vibrator finally stopped, leaving you limp and trembling in the aftermath of the intense, prolonged pleasure. your entire body shuddered violently as gojo’s hot cum painted your insides, triggering yet another bone-shaking orgasm. your pussy clamped down around him, greedily milking every last drop as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

geto’s release hit you like a tidal wave, his salty essence flooding your mouth and threatening to choke you. you swallowed convulsively, trying to keep up with the deluge as he emptied himself down your throat.

when it was finally over, you lay onto the bed, utterly spent and boneless. your limbs felt heavy, your muscles lax and unresponsive. you lay there gasping for air, your chest heaving as you tried to regain some semblance of coherency.

gojo slipped free of your abused hole with a wet pop, his softening cock glistening with the combined evidence of your coupling. he freed your other leg under his only for him to roll you on your back and push your knees to your chest just so he can take a better look at your abused anal, clenches and unclenches with his thick cum.

geto pulled out of your mouth with a wet slurp, his softening cock slipping free from between your parted lips. he licked your lips, tasting the salt of his release mixed with your saliva. a satisfied smirk played on his features as he admired the sight of you laid out before him, cum leaking from your well-fucked holes and staining the sheets beneath you. “god, baby,” he whisper breathlessly.

between gasping for air, gojo chuckle in satisfaction, admire his handiwork— your stretched, cum-filled holes. he pushed his long, slender two fingers into your ass, watching it disappear into the slick, creamy mess he’d created. “look at you, so full and messy,” he purred, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction.

he pulled his finger free, before spreading your legs open once again to stuffed the cum into your swollen cunt. and the man hum in amusement and satisfied, the combination of your juices and his own cum. the picture made him groan, “fuckkk,” he whisper as he watch your cunt clenched around the cum. he lift his head to look at your flustered face, seeing geto’s cum paint your lips, looked up at you with hungry eyes.

geto wiped the remnants of his release from your lips with his thumb, smearing the pearle scent fluid across your cheek in a perverse marking of possession. he leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “such a good girl, taking everything we gave you.”

geto chuckled to himself, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath gojo's touch. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans and whimpers. when he finally pulled back, his gaze was heavy-lidded with desire.

“mm, you look so pretty like this,” he purred, trailing his fingers along your jawline, “all marked up and messy with our cum.”

gojo hummed in agreement, his fingers still busy playing with the mixture of fluids leaking from your holes. “mmm, i think our little angel deserves a reward for being such a perfect slut for us, don’t you agree, suguru?”

he pressed two fingers into your swollen, sensitive cunt, stirring up the cum already inside you. your walls fluttered weakly around the intrusion, too tired to do much else but clench feebly.

gojo grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he withdrew his fingers from your cum-filled cunt. “oh, i have an idea,” he purred, his voice dripping with dark promise.

he glanced over at geto, “why don’t you come over here and help me clean up our little angel?” geto raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face as he caught on to gojo’s suggestion. “with pleasure,” he drawled, sauntering over to join the white-haired man.

together, they knelt between your spread thighs, their faces mere inches from your abused, dripping sex. gojo reached out, spreading your folds wide, exposing your tender flesh to their hungry gazes.

“look how messy she is,” gojo said, his tone teasing and approving. “so much of our cum leaking out of her poor, stretched holes. it’s almost a shame to clean her up...”

geto hummed in agreement, leaning in closer to inspect the mixture of fluids coating your inner thighs. “such a beautiful mess,” he murmured appreciatively. he turned his attention to your cum-soaked cunt, watching as it twitched and clenched around nothing. “so needy,” he purred, tracing a finger through the wetness pooling around your entrance.

his finger dipped lower, finding your tight asshole and circling the puckered flesh teasingly. “and so full,” he added with a chuckle, giving the sensitive ring a gentle squeeze.

your breath hitched as geto’s finger circled your asshole, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your oversensitive body. your mind reeled, struggling to process the intensity of what had just happened— the brutal fucking, the overwhelming orgasms, the sheer depravity of it all.

but even as your brain tried to make sense of it, your body betrayed you, responding eagerly to the touch. your asshole clenched reflexively around geto's probing finger, a soft whimper escaping your lips. gojo noticed your reaction, a knowing glint in his eye. “see, suguru?” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “our little angel loves having her ass played with.”

geto’s gaze flicked to your face, then back to where his finger was working its magic on your most intimate hole. your entire body tensed as both men settled between your thighs, their heated gazes fixed on your most intimate places. you could feel the cool air of the room caressing your overheated skin, making you shiver despite the lingering heat coursing through your veins.

gojo’s fingers parted your swollen lips, baring your aching core to their view. you whimpered softly as he exposed you further, feeling vulnerable and yet excited by their intense focus on your body.

geto’s teasing touches sent jolts of sensation zinging through you making your hips twitch involuntarily. you moaned breathlessly as he circled your clit, the bundle of nerves still overly sensitive from the intense orgasms they’d wrung from you.

“please... too sensitive,” you gasped out, not even sure what you were wanting anymore. more? less? something in between?

gojo tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “now, now, little one. we can’t leave you all messy like this,” he scolded playfully, his fingers still holding your folds open. “don’t you want to be nice and clean for us?”

geto chuckled darkly, his finger still teasing circles around your clit for a second before finding your puckering hole once again. “mmm, yes, we wouldn’t want my precious angel to be uncomfortable, would we?” his tone was laced with false concern, belying the hunger in his eyes.

geto now seemed intent on pushing past your limits. his finger probed deeper into your ass, stretching the tight muscle incrementally. you bit back a cry, your body instinctively trying to resist the foreign intrusion. “shh, relax,” geto coaxed, his tone soothing despite the boldness of his actions. “let me in and be a good girl.”

as if to emphasize his point, he pressed harder, his finger sliding deeper into your ass until he bottomed out. a strangled moan tore from your throat at the sudden fullness, your inner walls clamping down reflexively around the invading digit.

your body trembled as geto pushed deeper into your ass, the intrusion stretching you wider than you thought possible. you cried out, the sound echoing in the quiet room, your body arching off the bed as another wave of pleasure-pain coursed through you.

your muscles spasmed around geto's finger, gripping him tightly as he continued to push deeper. the sensation was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, the burn of discomfort mingling with the sweet ache of pleasure. you felt yourself teetering on the edge of pain, the line blurring as your body adjusted to the new sensations.

you couldn't help but buck your hips, desperate for some sort of friction. your cunt throbbed, empty and neglected, the need for release gnawing at you. “don’t...” you weakly attempt to stop geto making your boyfriend chuckle in mockery.

gojo smirked at your feeble protest, clearly amused by your predicament. “aww, does my little slut want more?” he teased, pressing his fingers deeper into your abused slit. your cunt clenched greedily around the digits, still craving more despite the copious amounts of cum already filling you.

geto hummed thoughtfully as he began to move his finger in and out of your ass, slowly building up a rhythm. each thrust sent sparks of sensation shooting through you, your body quivering under the onslaught.

“you’re doing so well, taking me so deep,” geto praised, his voice low and gravelly with arousal. “i bet you’d let me put my cock in here, wouldn’t you, baby? stretch this tight little hole even wider...”

your body shook violently as geto’s words washed over you, the dark fantasy he painted igniting a fire within you. the thought of taking his thick cock in your ass, of being split open and filled to capacity, made your head spin with desire once again.

“no, no, baby don’t,” you whimpered, aside from your whimper, you are unable to deny the truth in his statement. your resolve crumbled under the relentless assault on your senses, leaving you a quivering, malleable thing, eager to submit to whatever twisted desires they might have.

geto’s finger pumped steadily into your ass, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside that made your vision blur and your toes curl. your pussy gushed around gojo’s fingers, the slick fluid easing the way as he worked two digits into your cunt now, scissoring them apart to stretch you wider.

gojo’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched your body respond so eagerly to their ministrations. he curled his fingers inside your cunt, rubbing against that special spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

“that’s it, take it,” he growled, his voice rough with lust, “take our fingers like the desperate little whore you are.“

geto, emboldened by your lack of resistance, added a second finger to your ass, stretching you even wider. the dual penetration had you seeing white, your body convulsing uncontrollably as you teetered on the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm.

“so close already?” geto taunted, pumping his fingers faster. “come on, angel. give us another one. show us how badly you need it.”

your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release. the dual stimulation of gojo’s fingers in your cunt and geto’s in your ass was almost too much to bear, pushing you higher and higher towards that elusive peak.

“mmm, cum, wanna cum!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as you bucked wildly against their hands. your hips moved of their own accord, seeking more of that delicious friction, more of the mind-numbing pleasure that only they could provide.

you could feel your orgasm building, the pressure mounting deep inside you until it finally exploded outward in a blinding rush of ecstasy. your body convulsed violently, your inner walls clamping down hard on the fingers still buried inside you as you came harder than you had earlier.

gojo and geto watched intently as your climax overtook you, their faces alight with smug satisfaction. they didn’t relent, continuing to stroke your throbbing sex and plunder your stretched holes throughout the duration of your orgasm.

“that’s it, milk our fingers,” gojo purred, his voice dripping with sensual approval. “such a good girl, coming so hard for us.”

geto’s expression was darker, his eyes burning with possessive hunger as he felt your insides ripple around his fingers. “fuck, look at her,” he groaned, pumping his digits faster, “so beautiful when she’s lost in pleasure.”

as the aftershocks faded, they slowly withdrew their fingers, leaving you limp and trembling in their wake. your entire body felt boneless, completely spent from the intense orgasms they had wrung from you. you lay there panting, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath, your skin flushed and damp with perspiration.

you could feel their gazes raking over your naked form, drinking in the sight of you sprawled out so wantonly before them. it made you shiver, knowing how thoroughly they had debauched you, reduced you to nothing more than a puddle of sated flesh and needy nerves.

geto’s eyes soften along with his smile. your eyes meet his, interlink with the trembling of your body and crushed cherry on your cheeks, making you as beautiful as ever. he leans down to kiss your forehead. “good girl, such a good girl,” he whisper. “are you tired?” he asked after, the tone of his voice coating with gentleness and tenderness.

“you did...great, doll,” gojo purred, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched you catch your breath.

you could still feel the effects of their combined attention settling in your bones, sending shivers down your spine. the way their eyes lingered on you, taking in every detail of your form, made your heart race, their gaze almost a physical touch on your skin, igniting goosebumps in its wake.

geto’s reassuring words and the gentle kiss on your forehead only heightened this feeling of exposure, vulnerability, and a soft exhaustion that coated everything in a hazy, pleasurable buzz.

a soft, breathy laugh escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze as he spoke, his voice gentle and understanding. “a wreck,” you whispered, your voice a soft murmur, “this was...a lot, even for me,” you added, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

you reached out, your fingers lightly tracing a path along his cheek, your eyes meeting his. “but,”you continued, your tone slightly playful, “i’m happy.” your attention fully on your boyfriend, leaving gojo on the side, making the man roll his eyes in annoyance. how dare you ignore him after he give you the pleasure.

“oh, so it's like that, huh?” gojo teased, his tone a mix of feigned hurt and playful jealousy. as he observed the intimate moment between you and geto, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. he had just given you such pleasure, and now you were focused on his best friend, leaving him out of the moment. the thought sparked a small spark of anger in him, making him want to regain your attention. as you turned your attention back to him, he felt a twinge of victory, but his ego still craved more.

“well, doll, looks like i managed to wear you out,” he joked, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. as his fingers traced lightly along your neck, his touch carrying a soft threat, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of dominance. it was a subtle challenge, a reminder of the power he held over you. he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “but if you still have energy left, i promise i’ll make sure to keep you up all night.”

geto rolled his eyes, an exasperated smirk crossing his face as he slapped gojo’s hand away from your skin, a touch of protectiveness flashing in his eyes. “that’s enough for tonight,” he muttered, his voice firm but calm, his gaze flickering over your tired form. “she’s exhausted, satoru, don’t push it.”

with a dismissive shake of his head, he reached over, grabbing a pillow and carefully placing it at the foot of the bed, ensuring the sheets stayed clean. he pulled you close, guiding your naked, worn-out, marked body against his own, his arms wrapping around you in a secure embrace. his warmth and steady heartbeat offered a sense of comfort, a grounding contrast to gojo’s relentless energy.

as you nestled against geto, he gently ran his hand through your hair, a silent reassurance that he had you, that you could finally rest. his fingers traced lightly over the marks on your skin, a faint hint of pride in his gaze, as if each mark was a testament to the moments you’d shared.

gojo frowned, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes as geto’s voice cut through the air. he watched silently as geto intervened, a soft, but stern command, dismissing gojo’s antics as he wrapped you up in a warm, protective embrace.

his gaze softened, though, his expression filled with a mix of annoyance and amusement. after all, he knew he wasn’t always easy to handle, and he respected geto’s restraint, even if it meant ending their game for the night. he let out a soft, playful chuckle, trying to conceal his disappointment.

despite the flicker of annoyance still lingering in his eyes, gojo couldn’t deny the unspoken boundary that geto had set. he knew well enough that you were geto’s girlfriend, not his, and despite the twisted game you three played, there was always a line he couldn’t cross. so, with a sigh of playful defeat, he grabbed another pillow, placing it beside you as he slid down onto the mattress.

he wrapped his arm around your waist, settling close as he pulled the thin sheet over the three of you, blanketing the room in a soft, cozy warmth. his head rested gently against your bare back, a comforting weight, even as he tried to mask his earlier disappointment with a low, lazy chuckle.

as he lay there, a subtle dampness on the sheet caught his attention—a trace of everything the night had held. instead of moving away, he stayed close, almost comforted by it. for him, that small reminder was proof of the intimacy you’d shared, of a connection deeper than any fleeting frustration.

“rest now, baby,” he whispered, kissing your back without moving his head.

he let his fingers idly toy with a strand of your hair, his eyes fixed on a distant point in the room, his mood still a bit tense. there was a quiet, contemplative silence between the two of you, a subtle tension still lingering in the air. despite this, he didn’t move away, his arm remaining wrapped around your form, a slight smile tugging at his lips as his attention turned back to you.

“hey,” his voice was a gentle murmur, teasing yet affectionate. “next time, i call dibs.”

geto let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he reached over and smacked gojo on the back of the head—a light but firm reminder. “if you want to call dibs, go get your own girlfriend,” he muttered, his tone laced with playful irritation.

gojo chuckled, rubbing the spot where geto’s hand landed, feigning a hurt expression before leaning back against the headboard. “aww, come on, suguru, don’t be so stingy,” he teased, flashing a mischievous grin. despite his joking demeanor, he settled into the quiet, enjoying the familiar banter as he kept an arm around you, savoring the warmth of the moment.

geto just shook his head, smirking slightly as he held you close, a silent reminder to gojo that some things were his alone. gojo scowled, rubbing the back of his head where geto had smacked him, a pout on his lips as he responded with a huff. “you know i don’t do relationships like that,” he complained, his voice teasing and lighthearted.

gojo pushed himself up a little, his scowl softening as he leaned down to press a trail of light kisses along your bare shoulder, working his way up to your cheek. you couldn’t help but giggle at the gentle, ticklish touch, a smile tugging at your lips as he finished with one last lingering kiss.

“besides...” he teased, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he glanced between you and geto with a smirk, a firm squeeze of your breast. a playful, teasing gesture that seemed to test the limits of his friend’s patience, although this time, geto’s exasperation seemed to be mixed with a touch of amusement. “this dollie here doesn’t seem to mind at all.”

geto sighed, rolling his eyes, though a small smirk hinted that he found the moment amusing. “she might not mind, but don’t push it,” he warned, his tone light as he pulled you a bit closer, almost as if staking his claim.

gojo chuckled, leaning in to steal another kiss from your lips before pulling away with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he looked over at geto, a playful smirk on his face, and teased with a cocky, “oh yeah?” his tone almost challenging.

geto shot him a pointed look, a mix of warning and annoyance in his gaze, but there was no real irritation there. instead, a subtle amusement hinted at the corners of his lips. he seemed to enjoy this playful back-and-forth between you three, even if he occasionally had to keep gojo in check.

gojo leaned back, his smirk never leaving his face. he knew he was treading a fine line between playful teasing and overstepping, but he couldn’t help himself. he thrived off the thrill of testing geto's limits, pushing just far enough to keep things interesting. the chemistry between you three was undeniable, each of you feeding off the other’s energy in a way that was intoxicating.

geto’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly, a silent reminder that he wasn’t going to be pushed around—his quiet way of asserting his place in this complicated relationship.

as gojo settled back against the wooden board of the bed feet, his gaze shifted from geto to yourself, an amused spark still dancing in his eyes as he glanced at you. “what about you, doll,” he asked, his tone casual, yet laced with curiosity. “have we worn you out, or are you up for a few more rounds today?”

geto rolled his eyes, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “don’t even think about it, satoru,” he warned, his voice firm but lacking any genuine anger.

you nestled yourself deeper into geto’s embrace, letting his warmth soothe you as you closed your eyes. a soft, contented sigh escaped your lips, your head resting comfortably against his chest. “mmm… tired,” you mumbled sleepily, barely managing the words as a gentle smile played on your lips.

gojo let out a quiet, amused chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back, though you could feel his gaze still lingering on you. “guess that’s a ‘no’ for me, then,” he teased softly, his tone lighthearted, but there was a fondness in his voice that made you smile.

geto’s fingers gently traced comforting patterns along your back, his touch soothing as he murmured, “just rest, sweetheart.” his voice was soft, filled with a tenderness that only came out in quiet moments like this, and with that, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing lulled you further into peace, making the room fade into a warm, sleepy haze.

geto pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, the sound of his heartbeat beneath you steady and soothing. gojo's playful energy had been replaced by a contented silence, and even he seemed to settle into this peaceful moment, his eyes fixated on your figure.

an almost drowsy haze filled the room, the three in the bed creating a calm bubble within the surrounding silence. it almost felt like the whole world had paused, the moment frozen in a quiet, intimate tableau.

gojo, meanwhile, watched the two of you with a hint of longing. he was playful and often enjoyed being the center of attention, so seeing you resting so contentedly in geto’s arms stirred a slight pang of disappointment within him. he crossed his arms, letting out a soft sigh, almost sulking for a moment as he processed the sight of you so peacefully held by geto. finally, with a resigned sigh, gojo shifted back onto the bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his head gently on your back. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder, surrendering to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

as you nestled into geto’s arms, feeling his gentle kiss pressed into your hair and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth between you two was comforting and secure. geto, your boyfriend, held you protectively, his quiet strength radiating through his embrace. his presence was reassuring, providing a calmness that made it easy for you to relax.

“fine… let’s just sleep,” he murmured, a trace of a smile on his lips as he settled down, feeling content with the closeness of simply being beside you both. even though geto was your boyfriend, gojo had carved his place in these cherished moments, creating a warm, close bond between the three of you, built on trust, care, and shared affection.

as gojo settled behind you, his arm gently draped around your waist, a sense of warmth and closeness enveloped you. geto’s steady heartbeat and the soft rise and fall of his chest provided a comforting embrace, a reminder of the love and security you had found in him.