a menace to society

"Stop moving so much," Leon quietly muttered from behind you just as you shifted.

"I'm not," you huffed, a bit annoyed that you had to hide in this stuffy closet, even if you knew that you'd probably be dead by now if it weren't for your partner's quick thinking. Against his words, you adjusted yourself again, trying to find a decently comfortable position. Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips and the warmth of his chest pressed to your back as he pulled you flush against him.

"I said, stop moving," he repeated, whispering in your ear. You held back a shudder at the feeling of his breath ghosting over the shell of it, stilling completely in surprise. Just then, thunderous footsteps could be heard outside the closet; slowly, listening for any sound that might reveal where the two of you hid.

You tensed and instinctively backed up to further yourself from the perpetrator, even if there wasn't much room to move to begin with. You could faintly hear Leon grunt from behind you, but you were in no position to apologize at the moment. Your eyes were glued to a crack in the old, wooden door, watching as the light shifted when the person passed by.

You waited with bated breath, hoping that it wouldn't come near. But, like some cliche horror movie, you could see the light at the bottom of the door disappear, meaning it was far too close for comfort. With every second the person stood there, the tighter Leon's hold on your hips became. The two of you went so silent your ears rang, and you were briefly afraid that it'd hear the sound of your racing heartbeat.

But after what felt like an eternity, its heavy footsteps started up again and away from the closet. You heaved a sigh of relief when the front door slammed shut, rendering the building empty once more.

"Fucking hell, sorry," you mumbled, trying to shuffle forward and give Leon his space when you realized that he hadn't let go of you yet. "You okay?"

Using the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the door, you lifted your arms a bit and curiously peered at his hands. But that's when you noticed the black lines covering his arms. Upon closer inspection, you quickly realized that they were his veins.

"Christ, Leon, what—"

"Be quiet. Just—just for a second."

You found it hard to tear your eyes away from his arms, waiting in silence. You focused on the sound of his labored breaths, biting your tongue to keep yourself from questioning him even further. Your mind couldn't help the invasion of 'What happened?' and 'What is that?' that threatened to spill from your lips. How did you not notice this earlier?!

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt him rest his forehead on your shoulder, muttering and grunting under his breath. And that's when you felt it — the reason why he was so reluctant to move just yet: he was hard.

"Oh." You couldn't help it, even if he had already told you to shut your mouth twice already. The silence from then on was painfully awkward as the two of you tried to figure out what to say. With a deep breath, you miraculously found the courage to speak up.

"Do you... Can I help you?" You offered, remaining still to keep yourself from accidentally pressing yourself up against him again. It was silent while you waited for his reply, embarrassment wriggling its way through your chest the longer the two of you kept quiet.

"I mean, you don't have to accept, you can just ignore me—" you began to ramble on, mortified that you even asked the question. "I just thought, cause, like, it'll be hard for you to—shit, I didn't mean it like that—"

"[Name]," Leon interrupted you, finding your instant silence charming in its own way. You could hear him take a deep breath in just as his hands slid further up to firmly caress your waist and abdomen. Electricity shot down your spine and pooled in your gut when he tugged you closer to him, grinding himself against your ass. "You can."

He reached for your hand and brought it behind you, placing it directly onto his cock. You gave it a tentative squeeze, savoring the quiet grunt that came from him, feeling your confidence grow by the second. You heard the gentle jingling of his belt as he undid it just enough for you to dip your hand underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers.

"Not wasting a second, huh?" Amusement and lust were laced in his voice as he spoke, a quiet moan spilling from his lips soon after.

He was hot and thick in your hand, throbbing rhythmically. You swiped a finger over the tip that beaded precum, savoring the shudder that came from his body. His hips trusted up into your fist, seeking more, and you were more than happy to oblige.

With a steady pace, you moved your hand up and down, tracing the prominent veins. You felt your own cock twitch at the sound of Leon's breathy groans and sighs, but you ignored it in favor of getting him off.

"Fuuckk," he drawled out, leaning forward to press his lips on the side of your neck. "You're good at this. Makes me think you've done this typa thing before."

"No," you responded, gently rubbing the spot on the underside of the tip. "You're the only one."

"I get the special treatment?" He muttered teasingly, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be my lucky day."

He could feel his body buzzing with adrenaline as he peppered open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck, untucking your shirt to slide a hand up your torso to pinch and toy with a nipple. His free hand traveled lower, slipping his cold fingertips underneath the waistband of your pants, but refused to go further than that.

You could feel his lips curl in a subtle smirk, but even as you realized he was teasing you, testing your patience, you had no intention to retaliate. Christ. The hold this man had on you. It was downright pathetic.

"God," he started, pressing his palm flat on your chest to bring you closer to him—eager for more of your touch. He let his teeth gently scrape against your skin, threatening to bite—to mark you, but he forced himself not to. He couldn't. Not right now. "I want to fuck you so bad."

His words were breathless, borderline desperate, as they left his lips. He couldn't help but thrust his hips up into your fist, pushing and pushing until your hand was flush against your ass, keeping you from jerking him off as he rutted against your hand.

"We can't, Leon," you muttered, disappointment lacing your voice. As much as you'd love to have him inside you, fucking you deep, you knew you couldn't. Not when the Ganados were still outside, at least. "Just let me finish you off."

Leon let out a low growl, knowing that you were right. There were a lot of things the two of you couldn't do inside the confined space of the closet, forcing him to conjure up ideas of what he wanted to do when all of this was over.

But for now, he settled on the second best option: your thighs.

"I know," he murmured, breathing in deeply as he pulled your hand away from his throbbing cock. "Then let me fuck your thighs. I'll be quick, I promise."

You mulled over his words, unsure if it would be a good idea.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, his voice heavy with lust. "Just this once. Then, when we find Ashley and get the hell outta this place, I'll make sure to fuck you properly. Nice 'n hard 'n deep. Wouldn't you like that?"

Fuck it.

"Mhm, yeah, go ahead." You relented, knees weakening at the thought of having his thick cock inside you, stretching and filling you up perfectly.

"Atta boy," he buried his thumbs underneath your pants and boxers, pulling them down to let them drop to your ankles. "Knew you'd come around."

He groaned at the sight of your bare thighs and drooling cock, running his hands along the curve of your ass to lean back and spread it, focusing his gaze on your asshole. "Fuck," he hissed. "Can't wait to feel your tight little hole around me later. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make you mine."

Arousal sank in your stomach like a rock as your hole clenched around nothing. Whatever's coursing through his veins made him more impulsive, more desperate, but with the fog that clouded your thoughts, you hardly found it in you to mind.

He spat on his cock and moved a hand away from your body to briefly jerk himself off and smear the saliva around.

"Open up, baby," he instructed as soon as he was done, raising his hand to caress your hip. "Spread your legs a little."

Like a trained puppy, you obeyed, widening your thighs just enough to let him guide his hard cock in between them. Your breath hitched at the sight of the head peeking out, squeezing your legs around him just a bit tighter.

"Jesus fuck, [Name]," he groaned, leaning forward to press his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. Through the hazy mess that was in your mind, you found comfort in the warmth and firmness of them as you placed your hands on his forearms for some sort of stability. "That's it. Squeeze me just like that."

You could feel every twitch and throb, and you were sure he could feel yours, too. It felt like your senses were on overdrive as you listened to your labored breaths, his pleased sighs and grunts, and the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your thighs. He set a leisurely pace, rocking his hips back and forth.

"Shit..." He hissed, speeding up his thrusts as his dick rubbed against your balls, smearing his makeshift lube across your skin.

His hips met yours with quiet slaps, making sure to keep the noise level at a minimum despite the overwhelming urge to just bury himself inside you right then and there. He mouthed at the nape of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, gently pressing his teeth down hard enough to send sparks down your spine.

His fingertips pressed into your sides so firmly it hurt, but it only served to mix in with the desire that burned brightly in your belly. He fucked your thighs with a sense of urgency, as if trying to satiate a hunger deep within his subconscious—not that you minded.

He grunted and groaned with every thrust, tightening his arms around your waist to tug you back to him whenever your hips jolted forward. It was intoxicating; the way he so effortlessly turned your body into a sensitive mess left you wanting more.

But as soon as a strong hand wrapped around your aching cock, you nearly came on the spot. One of your hands left Leon's forearm to slap it over your mouth as you tried to keep yourself from moaning too loud.

He breathily chuckled beside your ear. "Is this what you wanted?" He rhetorically questioned, swiping a finger over the leaking head so perfectly it left your skin tingling. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Ohh, fuck," you hissed. It was embarrassing how you so eagerly responded to his touch. "Yeah, th-that's it...!"

Your eyes fluttered shut, focusing on the feeling of his slick cock moving in and out from between your thighs. Your lips parted from behind your hand to let out quiet pants and moans, digging your nails into his forearm the closer you got to your orgasm.

"Oh god, Leon—!" You moaned, pressing yourself further against his back. You could feel your legs faltering, but he didn't seem to mind having you rely on him to stand up.

"I know, baby, I know," he muttered, his voice tight and strained as his thrusts gradually grew sloppy and weak. "Me too."

His cock pulsed and twitched, and he can't help himself from clamping his teeth over the side of your neck this time. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it left a noticeable bite mark that dully ached.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he instructed, and you had no choice but to comply.

With a muffled moan, you arched your back and finally came as ropes of your semen coated the dusty wooden floor and Leon's fingers. He stroked you until he was sure that you were spent before letting go to chase after his own release.

"Shit," he cursed, breathing heavily. "I'm gonna cum so... so fucking hard...!"

With a strained groan, his hips jerked erratically as he came, holding you tight enough to leave bruises. You gently rub your thighs together, helping him ride out his high. It wasn't until a few moments later did he finally stop, breathing hard against your neck as he calmed down. But that's also when the clarity kicked in.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, moving his head from you. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened—I just—" he apologized, sighing in defeat a moment later.

"It's fine," you replied, patting his arm. You had to suppress a shudder when he pulled away from your thighs. The cum that ended up on the insides of them quickly cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sensation on your skin. You were just gonna have to suck it up.

"Let's just get outta here, already." You shuffled forward a bit to tug your pants back up your legs while Leon composed himself.

"Yeah," he said, pressing an arm against the dusty, wooden door. Through the dim light, you could see that his veins were no longer visible again, but that thought was going to have to hold off until later. "You ready?"

"Yup." You nodded after briefly making sure you still had everything in place.

Without further thought about what happened just a few seconds ago, Leon pushed the door open and quickly left the closet as you trailed close behind. Now, it was back to work.

cherry sweetness — the sweet scent of creamy vanilla with hints of ginger, spice mulled wine and pear invades your nostrils as soon as you enter nanami’s office. “glendronach…original, at least twelve years old,” you murmur, brows pulled together to form a crease in the centre of your forehead as you glance at the inconspicuous bottle of liquor on the mahogany desk. “…‘nami,” and there’s that pout, expresso–scented lips jutting forward in discontent, “didn’t know we were entertaining guests today.”

there are three glasses on the desk — each squared and stubby and filled with a deep amber–red gold liquid. definitely glendronach, you think and nanami promptly confirms this. “perfect with a rich, dark chocolate — like the ones you’ve been eating all day,” he answers slowly, gently as he glances at you over his shoulder, utterly unperturbed. “i didn’t know either, but — you remember ‘toru, right sweet boy? he decided to…let’s say drop in.”

and you absentmindedly nod in response, leaning forward with your fingers curling around the edges of his desk. “no,” he all but rasps as he sits back down on the plush leather seat behind his desk, patting his thighs sluggishly. near–silent disapproval. “i need my boy with me right now; fully.”

to which your lower lip quivers in response as you drag your fuzzy sock–covered feet towards nanami, straddling his lap with ease. an apology is hot on your tongue, replacing the comforting remnants of the expresso–flavoured chocolates. but it never makes it past your lips; not when nanami’s cherry–sweet lips lock with yours. he’s at least sipped the whiskey, you think, you can taste it on him but when you reach back for a glass yourself, he pulls your hand away.

“not yet dollface,”

satoru. he’d let himself in again, now leaning against the door to nanami’s office. where nanami’s voice was slow, almost sensual, ‘toru was faster; saying as much (or as little) as he chose to in the minimum amount of time. but you don’t linger on it, nanami’s hooking his finger beneath your chin, turning your head so that you’re facing him again.

“think you’re up to taking the both of us today?” he asks, lifting a thick brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. and ‘toru — never one for silence — quickly adds: “just like the old times? i’m feeling nostalgic.” nanami, though, rolls his eyes at that, mouthing, ‘only if you want to’ before dragging his lips against yours again.

his lips are warm against yours and when your lips part after being prompted by a gentle nip his tongue slithers into your mouth. your teeth clash momentarily — and only momentarily — before he falls into a rhythm while satoru watches intently at the side. one moment you’re swapping saliva and the next he’s sucking on your abused lower lip before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“he needs an answer sweet face, a sober one.” satoru explains, rounding the desk to push the window behind the two of you open. and then goes on to fumble in his pocket before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. he releases the flame, it’s bright, and he tilts the contraption toward the cigarette, igniting it and bringing it to his parted lips while quenching the initial flame.

your gaze flickers between the two men you’ve known since your college days. memories of heated bodies pressed against one another moving to the rhythm of whatever song glided around the room flooding your mind. and you swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in your throat, “…yeah, i’m feeling nostalgic too.”

rich, creamy silky–smooth and slightly nutty mixes with the bitter dark chocolate and expresso in your mouth. “black forest cake,” nanami muses against your lips, snaking his tongue inside your mouth once more. and satoru scoffs, blowing a cloud of smoke in your direction in the process, “black forest gâteau.”

and nanami, too caught up in tasting the whiskey and chocolate on your slick, kiss–swollen lips makes the conscious decision to not scold satoru for that. it peeves him though; that much is clear by the glare he retorts and satoru throws his hands up in surrender, cigarette dangling in between his lips.

then he kneels behind you, delicate fingers curling around the curve of your ass. “nanamin,” it sounds like a breathy whine but it’s the farthest thing from desperate, “d’you feel how wet he is?” and he stands up, startling blue eyes meeting yours, “…all this from a little kiss?”

mockery — his voice is thick with mockery and shrouded in the scent of nicotine. satoru’s mocking you in that same, banana milk flavoured sweet tone he uses. and your cock twitches — throbs in your boxers. angry tip smearing pre-cum on the cotton, forming the wet patch ‘toru had previously had his eyes on. it’s almost challenging — as if saying is this all it takes to reduce you to a puddle?

and you may be tipsy enough for your movements to reflect nanami’s acquired sluggishness but you’re not tipsy enough to be without shame. so, warmth rises to your cheeks and crosses the bridge of your nose at the implication. “no,” you drag the ‘n’ sound, your delivery strained and needy as you disentangle yourself from nanami who leans back, unfastening the buttons of his shirt before disregarding it on the floor.

“you know how he is,” nanami drawls in a low, matter–of–fact tone, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey. “eager and ready to please,” he continues, a heavy hand on your hips, guiding you to your knees to which you oblige.

satoru exhales at that, nodding in agreement as he disregards his cigarette in the ashtray on nanami’s desk before turning you to face him. and he stares down at you, a mixture of emotions hidden behind the blue of his irises. a groan slipping past his lips as he stretches his languid limbs before he speaks again, “nanamin is so old fashioned, don’t you think?” it’s a rhetorical question; he takes your chin in between his fingers, bobbing your head so that it appears as though you’re nodding along to what he’s saying.

he purses his lips and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cross your mind to stand and take his lips into yours. you don’t though, it’s only a thought, nanami’s taught you better than that.

“but, then again, you’re just his softheaded boy, needin’ a big, strong man like nanamin to take control and fuck you into the mattress — or any surface, really, i’ve heard the stories.”

you swallow the lump in your throat (muddled words you don’t dare whisper), bringing your trembling hands towards the crotch of his skinny jeans. nanami kneels beside you, warm lips pressed to the shell of your ear, his breath pricking at the sensitive skin.

“slowly,” guidance, “just like i taught you,” whispered guidance.

just like he taught you, you slowly unzip satoru’s jeans, nails curling around the band of his boxers before you separate it from his skin and free his cock. and his cock is heavy in your hands, pulsating even. it’s standing at full mast, curving inwards slightly. where he’s lacking in girth (something nami has a lot of) he makes up in size and it’s almost intimidating.

“focus doll, you’re going to take all of me down yer’ pretty throat.” tooth achingly sweet voice — satoru again. and then there’s nanami’s firm warning, “a few strokes and then you can start taking him in your mouth, baby, don’t overwhelm yourself.”

drunk or otherwise inebriated, they still care for you in their own way. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, a warm feeling that pulsates throughout your body. and perhaps nanami’s current actions — he’s moved behind you, freeing your cock from its confines as he pulls your cheeks apart to toy with the bejewelled plug in your hole — contributes to that feeling.

the specifics don’t matter though. what does matter is the pleased groans that each stroke of satoru’s cock elicits. purposeful touches; alternating between the length of his cock and simply fondling with his balls. it’s enough to make him cum (which all three of you are aware of).

and after a few minutes — you don’t know how long it’s been, truthfully — his bright pink tip that’d been seeping pre-cum is spurting thick clumps of cum onto your hands and face. and when it does land on your face you gasp, breath catching in your throat. nanami had been timing it, you’re sure, because he cruelly pulls the plug out at the same time without warning. thus, resulting in the desperate, filthy noise that slides out of your kiss–swollen lips.

despite this, nanami clicks his tongue and shakes his head in that same near–silent disapproval. “what do good boys do?” and you answer immediately: “clean messes, not make them.” earning yourself a pleased hum from the elder man. his praise is almost like a drug in the way it gets you going.

with this new buzz, you slowly push your tongue out, licking any remnants of ‘toru’s cum before turning your attention back to his cock. slow licks at first — almost like a kitten, really. then you work your way up to taking the pink tip in your mouth, sucking on it, experimental licks now and then.

“good god,” satoru, who is by no means a religious man, grunts under his breath as he traces shapes on your hollowed cheeks. “you’re doing such a good job.”

more praise that makes you feel warmer inside. perhaps it’s a mixture of their affections and the whiskey that left you feeling as though you’re floating. you’re not sure but whatever it is, it’s encouragement enough to keep you going.

while you continue to take more of satoru’s cock into your mouth; your lips are practically stretched thin around him, nanami’s fixated on fingering you. it started with one thick digit grazing against your prostate with precision but soon turned into two and two then turned into three. and every so often you shiver — not from him fingering you but because he drips some of his drink over your hole. it’s so obscene…but every time it happens your gummy walls clench around nanami’s fingers in the way he likes. he really does know you best.

“i’m going to—” it’s a warning, but it comes out muffled and difficult to decipher.

“it’s hard to understand you when your mouth is filled with cock, baby.” nanami counters knowingly, a tinge of mockery to his otherwise coolness. and satoru laughs, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he doesn’t understand you either, before slowly pushing your face into his neatly trimmed pubes. it’s not every day he finds someone capable of taking all of him, and he will use it to his advantage.

so, you’re left like this; mewling around satoru’s cock as it hits the back of your throat, nanami’s fingers assaulting your prostate, and your own cock pulsating until finally, you succumb to the pleasure of it all. ropes of cum splattering between you and satoru while you gag around his cock until he orgasms for a second time, shooting his load down your throat.

it tastes something in between salty and sweet but you can’t quite explain it. all in all, it tastes good and you wouldn’t be opposed to more of it. but, as it turns out, they have other plans.

“colour?” satoru’s voice again, from above you, as he slides you off of his cock with a ‘pop’ sound. and as your chest heaves in an effort to catch your breath you respond, “green.” to which they both grunt in acknowledgement.

nanami — he’s got thicker, slightly calloused fingers — is the one to reposition you. bending you over the desk while satoru brings a half–empty glass of whiskey to your lips and you swallow the remnants of the liquor with ease. then he disappears behind you with ‘nami and you curl your fingers around the edge of the desk in anticipation.

which is, all things considered, short-lived. you can feel them, both of them, pressing the heads of their cocks to your hole. and your lips part, eyes flickering shut, as a string of moans slides off of your tongue when that tight ring of muscle is breached. it’s an immediate feeling of fullness — one you’ve only experienced with the two of them.

they don’t move immediately; giving everyone time to adjust and to savour the moment. the feeling of their cocks throbbing against each other as you clench around them is mind-numbing. no one’s speaking anymore, it’s only grunts and groans that border on being animalistic as each of you relieve the tension of your lives in your own way. it’s a mutually beneficial affair.

and when they do move, you’re choking on your moans. salty tears cascading down your heated cheeks at every creak of the table you’re lying on top of; hard pecs to cold wood. a squeal every time they decide to pinch or twist the sensitive bud. it’s nothing short of pornographic.

You rolled your eyes. You were bored and Itto wasn't helping. The broom you had swept the floor with gentle strokes, any litter or dust gathering around the base of it. You wanted to get out of here as fast as possible and you had barely done any cleaning. You swept faster.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Itto whined, shoulders deflating. You glared at him. “You are!”

He looked offended, a hand on his chest and jaw wide open. You both stared at each other for a minute, before Itto’s features morphed back to normal, and then into an expression that was almost… cocky?

“Y’know,” Itto started, “I bet I could make you loud really quickly.”

You tilted your head towards him, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“They say it’s always the quiet ones, after all.”

He surged forward, taking large, powerful strides towards you. Lips met yours, unexpectedly soft ones at that. The brief clattering of the broom that you had been holding barely registered in your ears, and your eyes widened. This was not how detention was supposed to go. For a moment, you forgot how to respond. You stood frozen, eyes wide open.

Itto's left hand met your waist, his right travelling up to the back of your neck -- pulling you closer.

Snapping out of your trance, your eyes fluttered closed, Your hands fastened themselves onto Itto’s broad shoulders, ascending until they met his silky hair. Why'd I have to get a crush on this guy of all people? Itto groaned into your mouth, and as if spurred on by you, his movements became more desperate.

A hand slipped up your shirt, quickly traversing up and brushing over a hardened nipple. To catch your breath, you pulled apart from him, letting heaving pants escape your lips. Itto took advantage of his now free mouth, placing hot, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Letting out a breathy sigh, your fingers knotting into the back of Itto's hair, Itto bit down slightly -- pain radiated on your skin from his unnaturally sharp teeth. Your hands tugged on his hair, and he groaned. "Not the hair, please," he breathily spoke, very clearly not angry. Itto looked at you, bright amber eyes clouded with lust. "Look at you... all flustered..." his irises swam with desire, teeth biting into his cheek. His hand ran up and down your waist, thumb rubbing circles into your smooth skin. After a minute of silence, you spoke again.

"...Who's quiet now?" you murmured, only a whisper.

Itto blinked.

His grip on you tightened, "That's right," he chuckled, the corners of his mouth raising into a small smirk, "I'm making you loud today."

He shoved you, lowering you to the floor quickly but carefully. Disoriented, you looked up at Itto. His lips crashed back onto yours, desperation clear as they parted and his tongue dipped out to swipe at your lip. Your legs spread instinctively.

His hands pressed against the floor on either side of your head. And then his leg moved forward, in-between yours, slowly, until his knee reached the very prominent tent in your pants. You moaned loudly into the kiss, nails scraping against the floor beneath you. You raised your hands to his back, settling over his shoulders and harshly pressing your fingertips into his clothes. Itto's mouth stretched into a smirk as he felt you rutting against his leg. He pulled away.

"Excited, aren't you?” He rested his forehead on yours.

He grinned, grinding his knee harder into you. You brought a hand up to your mouth, muffling your pleasured whimpers into your palm.

"Hey!” Itto snarled, moving a hand from beside your head to harshly grab your hips — likely enough to bruise. “I said I was gonna make you loud, yeah? Don’t cover up your cute little noises…” he whined, giving a soft smile when you lowered your hand.

You whined in embarrassment, and he chuckled. He straightened slightly — now just on his knees — and lifted his shirt over his head swiftly, throwing it to someplace on the floor nearby. Your mouth watered at the sight before you.

Itto, with his massive pecs and taut muscles that rippled underneath his skin whenever he moved. Itto, with his red tattoos that stretched along the expanse of his body. Itto, who was now leaning down to you and shoving his hands back up your shirt.

“I’m taking this off,” Itto murmured, whipping up the hem of your shirt and bringing it over your head and arms. He looked in awe of you, rubbing his hands up and down your sides and then moving his thumbs to brush over your nipples. You flinched.

He moved his hands down slowly, resting on your stomach before stopping at the waistband. “May I?”

Itto smiled when you nodded, and his hand moved down to your bulge. Letting out a very breathy moan, your brows furrowed. Was he…?

He dug the heel of his palm straight into your dick, chuckling when you choked out a moan. Whimpering, you rolled your hips up into his hand and he pulled away. “Don’t want you cumming in your pants. You’re gonna cum with me inside you.”

Itto undid your button and fly, pulling down your pants swiftly and taking them completely off your legs. You shivered at the cool air. Itto’s hand returned to your cock, rubbing you gently through your boxers.

He slid a finger into the waistband, and pulled down quickly. As your embarrassingly hard cock bounced, he breathed out shakily. “You’re so pretty… pretty boy…”

He undid his pants messily, standing up in order to take them off faster. Now that he was just in his boxers, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the clear bulge of his dick held within the tight fabric. Shit, he was massive.

You snapped out of it when you felt a cold liquid spread over your hole. Itto watched your rim flutter around nothing, placing the small bottle of lube to the side. He rubbed his fingertips over your hole, watching as you shuddered. “I want you to prepare yourself.”

“…What?” you mumbled, confused.

“Finger yourself. Prepare yourself for me,” he smiled, easing his hand. His pointy nails glimmered with the sheen of lube on them. “I’ve got sharp nails.”

Embarrassment washed over you, but you obliged nonetheless. As your finger penetrated your hole, your legs shook slightly, closing in on themselves. Itto’s hands roughly grabbed your thighs and shoved them apart, staring at you with interest. You gulped. Continuing, you added another finger, back arching as you scissored them inside your hole. “Faster,” Itto commanded.

You whimpered. Thrusting out your fingers faster and moving your hips to meet them. The wet, squelching sounds resounded into the air of the auditorium. You went even faster, adding a third finger and outwardly moaning at the feeling. Your cock twitched, pre-cum sliding down it tantalisingly.

Itto’s hand grabbed your wrist, pulling it away and holding it above your head. He grabbed your other hand, too, securing it underneath his palm. “Good enough.”

As he took his dick out of boxers one-handed, you blanched. You didn’t think any amount of preparation would be good enough to fit in... that. He grinned at you, lining up the blunt head with your hole. Gently, he pushed the head of his cock inside you, slowly and carefully. You whined at the stretch, hands clenching into fists. “H-Holy fuck…” Itto gasped out shakily, “Ohhh… you feel so good,” he cautiously gyrated his hips, only fucking you with the tip for now.

"Mhnn... ah... can you... ah-- r-release my— haaa…hands?"

Itto looked up at where he held your wrists with his hand. He contemplated for a moment. "Will you be louder?" He stopped moving for a moment.

"Y-Yes, I swear..." you murmured, trying to resist moving your hips down to get some kind of friction against Itto's thick cock.

"Then sure."

He dropped your hands, smiling as you immediately tangled them around his neck. Without warning, Itto bottomed out, slamming his hips forwards and shoving his cock completely into you. He watched in awe as your puffy, stretched rim swallowed his cock, your gummy walls deliciously tight around him.

"AH-- fuck--!" you moaned out, back arching off the floor. Itto began to start thrusting rhythmically, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the empty auditorium.

"L-Louder, come on..." He let out a moan, head tipping back.

"MMm-- h-harder...!" you choked out, tears welling into your eyes as they rolled into the back of your head.

He paused, causing you to sob out a protest. Hands fastened underneath your knees, raising your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Itto bottomed out once again. He slammed into you, gripping onto your hips for dear life and upping his pace.

“Ahn…. fuhhh—ck…!” you sobbed out, legs shaking messily on Itto’s shoulders as his relentless pounding only increased in speed. The curve of his cock brushed over your prostate at every thrust, driving you completely mad with pleasure. A series of ‘ah’s’ spilled out of your mouth and you babbled inaudible words, sobbing over just how good it felt.

“That’s right, pretty boy… moan for me,” Itto pulled out until only his thick, blunt head was resting in your ass, then thrusting forward as deeply as he possible could. Your back arched off of the auditorium floor, a moan that sounded more like a scream escaping your throat. Itto breathed out shakily, “Fuck, you’re so… t-tight around me…”

You clenched harder at his words. Itto’s hips stuttered.

Your neglected cock laid between your bodies, weeping copious amounts of pre-cum onto your heaving stomach. His hand reached over and gave a sharp tug to it — you sobbed, rutting your hips against his hand whilst he rigorously pounded into you. “Please, please please please please..!” you didn’t even know what you were pleading for. Itto seemed to know.

A white-hot pleasure soon enveloped your senses, pulling you to your orgasm. Vaguely, you registered a scream exiting your throat and your back arching off of the floor once more. White, sticky cum coated your chest and Itto’s stomach.

Itto kept fucking you.

“Fuck, fuck! T-That was so… haaa… hot— ahn…” he breathed out shakily, thrusting harder into you.

“I-Itto! I just— a-AH—n… came—”

“I know, pretty boy,” Itto moaned, hair falling forward as he dipped his head. He kissed your cheeks, wiping away the tears, “Just a little— haaa… l—longer—” his hips stuttered again, cock twitching inside of you as he came with a moan of your name. Ropes of cum stained your insides as Itto used your hole through his orgasm, his muscles tending and his eyes rolling back. It was like you were milking him, swallowing up every drop of cum he had. Closing his eyelids, he deflated, panting into your neck.

A moan escaped your clogged throat—Todoroki had done you the honor of forcing you to put on the unusual mask with the exact replica of Hitoshi’s thick cock attached to the inside. Choking and writhing, you had managed to keep it in your mouth throughout the torture trip. The urge to vomit, however, had kept nudging you from behind— earning you the questionable looks of the other passengers.

A low hum had accompanied you, so low that you had to listen closely to hear it. Despite the sound, the stimulation that followed was literally nerve-wracking. The two masked figures who had taken seats next to you each placed a hand on your thigh, supporting your need to rub against something.

Tears had gathered at the edges of your eyes, adding to the glossiness. Even if you had tried to swallow the drool that had accumulated in your sultry mouth, you'd have just swallowed the dildo, which had been exciting at first, but you couldn't wait to get the mask off. Even the slightest movement made it hit your uvula. Absolute hell. It's still a mystery how Shinsou managed to insert the vibrator without waking you up. He was probably snickering under the mask; your misery often amused the other.

Another whine rips out from your throat— this time all it does is make the remaining people flock away from the three of you. A few glass tears fell down from your eyes, making your discomfort observant.

Despite the vacancy around you, Shoto and Hitoshi had painfully pressed up against you. making it much more suffocating for you (even with the oversized hoodie on). A grotesque feeling; it was absurd the way they had been toying with you, but even you didn't do anything to prevent it. A fucking freak in disguise— was what you were. Even a handjob was enough for your brain to go haywire.

Sometimes the your boys would think if you're brain was just hard wired to the mere idea of sex. But it always proved to be an upper hand for them— you’d almost never refuse them to break down your body— leaving nothing but a twitching and cum-filled body. And it wasn't like you detested the loutish treatment of your lanky body. Whoever was above— they had sculpted you in a way that the only thing you could be good at was getting railed— and you had no complaints.

A hand clutched at your quivering thigh—Shinsou’s hand; his calloused yet solicitous hands. The same figures that had brought you to countless orgasms in a chagrined way. The palpable feeling of being defiled by those hands had fogged your mind in more than one way. Even with lack of veins prodding from his hands— unlike Shoto’s— his inhumane grip had been more than enough for you to completely flush. Your twitching didn't stop by any means but it reduced to a minimum. . . Still not enough to evade the eyes of others.

Humiliation had cascaded itself onto you as you had sat down on your desk but right now— the feeling didn't seem to shake off rather than eat you whole.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Shoto’s hand slip inside his coat pocket— exactly knowing what he's going to do, you let your hand grasp Shinsou’s fingers, bracing yourself for another jolt of pleasure and an array of looks. It's hits like a punch at the gut, instead of being in pain; a wave of sensory overload washes over you. A painful tent had formed, making your tiny predicament visible to all.

Fuck. Is all that echoes when you see a wet spot forming on your jeans— as if being fucked by a sex toy in a subway wasn't enough, now everybody had to see it as well? The two were truly cruel! Overlooking the fact that you had completely consented for the entire thing, you looked to Shinsou’s direction with a pleading sense present in your eyes. Him— on the other hand— ignores your puppy eyes letting the torture continue.

Besides, you were always free to use your safe word.

“Shinsou, please. . .” (Though all it comes out is a muffled speech). He stares at you; a stoic expression present as always. With a piercing gaze, he squeezes your thigh, disregarding the fact that it caused the vibrator move around; or the insertion to wiggle inside your dick. A breathy moan slips past your thin pursued lips— right into Shinsou’s ear and it's evident that he's heard your crumbling because his grip goes tight again.

That's one thing you know you can exploit; their undying, unquenchable lust for you. Let it be a simple thing— something like you batting your eyes, adding more sway to your steps than usual. Fuck— even the way you sat sometimes.Cruel might've been a bit overboard. It wouldn't be entirely fair to call them cruel if their methods hadn't brought you to the state of being brain-dead. Only a singular thought circling your dazed mind; them, them and only them.

“Just a few more minutes, sweetheart. . .” His words slur out— letting your head rest on his shoulder as you whined into the fabric that was his hoodie. If you're legs had been trembling before, they're currently shaking with no means of halting. It's too much! And if anyone catches you here —or fuck— what if some authority figure caught you? You'd quite like to be cremated 6 feet under if that scenario ever played out.

Your face twists into a palid expression—with your body going numb to everything. The feeling that accompanied your escapde had been present but the sensation of you wetting your boxers was non-existent. Fuck the insertion. You internally cursed, slightly vibrating in place.

Shoto had noticed— quite and swell in his place. Comparable to a compliant puppy unlike Shinsou— a rabidness dwelling inside him. The vibrator reduces, only to come to a stop. It's uncomfortable in every sense— the slightest of movements makes it writhe inside you. Fortunately, for you, the subway stops— a horde of people get off. Including you, minus the fact that they didn't wobble out. Clutching Shoto’s arm as an alternative of a walking stick, you somehow manage to get off the train.

The insertion slides in and out even as you take the most lenient of steps.

Abruptly pushed out of your thoughts, you stare down at the squeezed hand that had enveloped yours. “Mhm?” You look over at Shinsou— who with a predatory look leans forward, lips brushing against your sensitive ear.

Whispering, he says, “Just wait till we get home, then you'll get the whore treatment you deserve.”

The scent of sex floods the room; a mixture of musk, swear and excessive cum splattered all over the bed-sheets. A dazed mind and a withering body— it's a dream come true even as Shoto wrung out another orgasm from your limp cock. A state of absolute puppy dumb. Who could blame you? With two boyfriends like Shoto and Hitoshi, you were bound to be their little puppy boy. Nothing but obedience instilled in your mutt like brain.

Half red and half white hair are situated between your lanky thighs. A series of piteous whines spil incoherently from your agape mouth— with a few Shoto. . . and the occasional moans. A hunger burns through his veins as he stuffs his face between your cheeks— licking a wet stripe and having his tongue prode at your hole, but never slipping the wet muscle inside. Shoto is everything but nice during sex. A few glances and words of affirmation were always thrown around but as he slips into his headspace a bit longer. . . He turns into a fucking sadist.

More rougher, more crueler, more quieter— that's one thing about Shoto. He's eerily quiet during sex. His speech is reduced to nothing but a few grunts and huffs. . . and that's if you're lucky enough to rip them out of him. Shoto has a way of keeping you on you're toes inside the bedroom; some days you'd get the most pillow prince treatment ever and some days would end with you passing out. (With the utmost care shown later).

A groan echoes through the enclosed space— that is your shared room. Titling your head backwards, you could easily see Shinsou seated on a couch, languidly stroking at his hardened dick as he stared at the sight in front of him.

“Shoto!” You exclaimed— tugging on the others hair as you felt him poke around the tip of his tongue around your rim, a teasing intent hidden behind it. He's mean like that. You croon, arching your hips for some direct stimulation from his tongue. He keeps you fixated with his attenuated hands— fervent and cordial. Clutching at your scrawny thighs— barely containing any attributes of muscle, though it helped in moving you around like a rag doll— he pulled you in close.

Sucking and licking, Shoto spared no spots to push his tongue into. He sucks at your rim— removing it to spit onto your hole, only to watch in amazement as some ozzed downwards while the rest your plump, pink hole sucked in— winking at the half and half man. Using his thumbs, Shoto spread open your hole— gazing at it (resulting in a shade of red to rest on your cheeks) before once again diving into it to feast on it as if it was his last meal.

A quick set of footsteps bounce off the walls and you Shinsou walk up to. . . With his cock dangling out. With your head already half off the bed— it isn't hard for you to follow when Shinsou orders, “Suck—” and smears pre-cum on your face as he pushed his cock onto your mouth.

“—and if it grazes, you don't fucking cum for a week.” He maliciously added as you parted your lips to suck at his head. Shinsou is downright mean— in the bedroom and outside. But it's the kind of mean that your provocatively yearn for. It bring a stimulation of sorts— wracking your brain that there's someone like Shinsou that'd treat you like absolute shit but at the same time make you feel wanted. An unhealthy relationship was what could've been said— plus with the fights that would occur between the two men that'd always be regarding you.

There's no warning or a hindsight but Shinsou forces the rest of girthy cock inside your mouth— though with the amount of times you've sucked dick. . . its safe to say you have no gag reflex. There's a gurgling noise and it takes you a second to adjust to his length before Shinsou starts moving in a rhythmic pace. Your hands go to rest near his sides and you suck on his cock, swirling your tongue at the the head and licking a stripe of saliva every now and then.

It's working when you hear grunts emit from him. So, you continue with your methods.

In a flip second, Shinsou thrusts harshly— making your entire body convusle under the harshness. Your nails dig into his skin, making him quite aware of the shit he has done— but like always, Shinsou doesn't care. He keeps his pace and you gurgle in your saliva, trying to keep up. Even if you can't see it, and due to his dick being abnormally large— you're aware that there's an outline of his cock displaying on your throat as he slides in and out, in and out.

Shinsou’s slender fingers sneak up onto your throat— and he squeezes hard. Resulting in his dick being squeezed as well. With that he turns you into fucking fleshlight— with no regards to the fact that you're now unable to breathe— he thrusts with a much more faster pace. Whines spill past his lips as he chases his high. Tear brim at the corner of your eyes at this crude treatment of your throat. It doesn't take him long and he makes one longer squeeze and it all spills out.

Milky white floods your throat, swirling directly down your oesophagus. It's taste sour but it's something your used to.

Shinsou removes his flaccid cock out of her agape mouth. “Swallow it all, whore.” A light pat lands of your cheek as you gulp down the remaining of the cum.

On the other hand, Shoto— with a few specks of jealousy— shoots up from the spot between your thighs. Hair messed up and the lower part of his face covered with your juices.

Shinsou and Shoto may argue over a lot of things but if there's one thing they mutually agree upon is wrecking you till the point of no return; and that's exactly what happens now. They share a look and it speaks more than words could. Shoto flips you— making you land on your stomach.

Spit. Shoto spits into his hand as he removes his cock of its confinement from his boxers. He spreads it on his slowly hardening dick— not bothering to prep you with the alternative that was lube. He spreads your legs apart, nestling between your legs and pulls your hair in a strenuous manner.

“Look at you, our little slut, aren't you?” Shinsou mutters as cups your face. He half expects you to answer as he stares at your fucked out expression. “Didn't even fuck you yet your brain is filled with nothing but cock, right, sweetheart?”

He isn't wrong, though. You hesitantly nod but it's a bit hard when Shoto’s hands are holding you up . . . By your hair.

“Use your big boy words, darling.” He coos, with a hint of degrading tone hidden inside.

“Yes, m’want your cock, please . . .” You slur out. Shinsou chuckles and you briefly hear Shoto snicker as well.

“Aughh!” He pushes in— that too without the usual condom— and lets out a guttural groan, reverberating throughout your body. Shoto snakes an arm around your slim waist, pulling you to press against his chest. Your head lollies onto his shoulder, drool escaping from the side of your mouth. Shoto slides in and out in a swiftness— and even if his dick isn't as girthy as Shinsous, his length makes it up for him because in this position Todoroki is hitting every spot inside you.

You're messy, you're hot, and you really fucking want to cum.

Another gasp comes out of your mouth when Shinsou takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and tugging at it with his teeth. One hand slides to your other nipple to twist and turn the nub whilst the other sneaks to your cock, lightly grazing on it. You cry out when you feel Shinsou bite down on your nipple— calming down hard and you're sure it's going to leave a mark. Shoto has an unwavering pace. His breath his hot on your neck, hips brusing your ass.

Breathy little Ahh! and Shoto! spill out in a sinuously manner. With the amount of will power you'd been holding up— it isn't a surprise that you feel the sensation of cumming creep up on you. Shinsou continues his assault on your body but this time, slowly and agonizingly stroking your dick. With a scream-like moan, you spil all over Shinsou and the sheets below— thick ropes of white shooting from your cock. There's isn't a second for you to catch your breath.

He pistons faster, holding you close— littering your skin with love marks.

His cock feels heavy and you brace yourself for the eventual creampie. Shoto can feel your rim clamp down on his dick so hard, it might be as well chop off. It's gets to a point where he has to push you forward and simultaneously pull you back into him at a final thrust.

“Shoto. . .” Hot white fills you up. Your body has breached all its limits and at a glance, it seemed evident that you were about to pass out at any given moment but that didn't stop the duo. Shoto keeps his dick pressed deep inside you— letting it's bask in your velvety walls as he let out the last of his semen. A limp cock falls back out and with splutters out excessive cum. If Shoto hadn't had a tight grip on your torso, you would've fallen face flat into Shinsou’s chest— which would've been nice but suffocating.

“Well, that's over. . . Todoroki, raise his legs up.” Shinsou orders to which Shoto throws him an confused look but he obeys nonetheless. You're confused as well but the only you can voice it out is by a small whine. Shinsou notices and just throws a small smile at your way. . . That does absolutely nothing to solve your confusion.

With your scraggy appearance, it didn't take Shoto much power to life up your legs, putting your leaking hole on display. “Leaking all over the sheets like a filthy fucking whore. Be glad I'm not making you lick it all up, darling.” He says, letting his palm lay flat in your cheeks— before slapping them, making it jiggle.

“You can take both of us right, doll?" He asks thought the tone indicates it's more of a command rather than a question. “Yes, you fucking can. A cock-slut like should have no problem with two cocks, right, hun?”

You needily whine at the scenarios Shinsou’s word had fornicated in your mind. His hands skimmed over your thighs, ass all in while completely neglecting your pendulous cock. Despite your previous orgasm— you're already braced yourself for the tons to come to yet— as Shinsou rests on his knees, thought it's in such a way that his cock glides over your slightly gaping hole . . . That still had a coating of cum on its rim that belonged to Shoto. Words aren't exchanged but the way your head flails back and how the slightest touch of cock— especially Shinsou’s cock— makes you become downright feral.

Erratic breathing breaks out through you. Anticipation is a like a knife slowly chipping away at your sanity as you wait and wait and waitandwait— Oh my fucking God! Is what runs through your brain when Shinsou thrusts inside— patently slipping inside— and it obviously slips inside with ease with the way it had been loosened by Shoto. A wail leaves your mouth when he pushes your legs even further behind, making your toes rest on Shoto’s shoulder— whose looking at the sight with a glint of amusement. It hurts but your lankiness comes in handy during times like this.

His hand run through his sweat filled hair as he slammed deep inside— pressing completely into your prostate. A fucked out expression that's now induced with tears— you lay helpless as Shinsou continues the heartless assault on your ass— giving it a spanking once in a while. One thing about Shinsou is that he never comes easily. There's extreme precision as to how you'll make him come. Most of which ended up with you briefly losing consciousness.

“Sh— Argh!— Todoroki . . .” He calls out and Shoto reflexively glances up to Shinsou’s point of view.

“What?” His monotonous voice asks, voice dripping with annoyance.

“Push your dick inside as well. He'll be able to take— Fuck!— it.”

Now, Todoroki and Shinsou may argue over a lot of things but turning you into a slut is something that's well agreed on. So, Shoto wastes not even a second to line up his cock with your filled hole— and it takes him even less time to push it inside.

“S’too much. . . Shoto!” Your unabating whimpers flood their ears but Shoto doesn't stop, only opts to thrust slowe and slower— trying to get your hole to adjust to the both of them. “Shoto!”

He sheaths himself inside you— warmth bustling with the already inside dick of Shinsou. The slightest of movements makes their cocks graze against each other, emitting a groan out of each other. You— on the other hand— have reached heaven and back. With black spots accumulating at the corner of you're eyes— someone in your spot would've made the wise decision of tapping out but you're not someone. And besides, your boyfriend's have trained you very well— and quite frankly, this isn't even the most kinkiest acts you've ever done.

The lengths of the two cocks stuff inside you like a puzzle piece— quite litreally made for you and just you. Shinsou begins to thrust, hard and unwavering and Shoto followed him as well. Sliding in and out as you felt filled to the brim. In all your fogginess, you take a peek down below and let a pornographic cry at the sight. Bulging from your slender stomach were the outlines of both Shoto and Shinsou’s dicks— they were practically rearranging your guts at every thrust, helping it adjust to their dicks. You were so full of them and it felt fucking euphoric.

“So fucking desperate for us.” Shinsou teased admiringly, as if he wasn't heaving and panting to just finish inside you— minus the feeling of being coated in Shoto’s fluids. He had seen the bulge, snaking his hand to rest it on it. A tightening knot had formed in your guts— a sign you were on the verge of cumming and something that the other two had noticed.

All you could was cling on to Shinsou’s biceps, unable to even look at them as your orgasm had your insides twisting. Shinsou held onto your toes while Shoto tightened his grasp around the back of your thighs. Gripped fully inside you, they both stopped and your orgasm hung around your face in a burning fire that made you unable to think straight.

You had to cum, you wanted to cum, if you didn't cum right now, you'd probably die.

“ ’toshi . . .” and you've never sounded so desperate for anything in your life.

“You’ll take both of us?” Shoto asked with teasing intent. His breath brushed against the back of your neck. In response— you vigorously nodded, the inhumane urge to just let the white sputter all over you and have the other two gush inside you. You almost let out a whimper at the thought.

“Fine.” Is what he says, before the two pick up their pace. Shinsou hand kneads the bulge every time the slip in and out— applying pressure now and then. They both make it a task to not leave your prostate untouched. As soon as one escaped your warm embrace— the other would be quick to take its place. Titling your head towards him, Shoto is quick to steal a few breathless kisses. Shinsou grabs a hold of your jaw, twisting it to face him and dives in tongue first. With the amount of pleasure being pushed onto you— you're mouth lays agape, letting your saliva drip out as he kisses you.

That unknowing knot twists inside your gut and you're close, so, so, so fucking close.

Both of their cocks feel heavy— almost swelling inside you. At the same time, both of them release inside you— filling you up to the brim. Incoherent words spill out as they bask inside the gooey warmness that was your hole. Hot semen flowed through your non-existent womb and there was a slight bulge visible. That was more than enough. You shut you eyes as your umpteenth time of orgasm hits again except this comes in a liquid manner— squirting like a pussy from your slit. Shinsou picks up some of it, licking it up before plunging the same tongue down your throat— giving you a taste of yourself.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby.” Shinsou praises, aiding you with putting down your thighs. Your hole spurts out some of the excessive cum and it look hot— in Hitoshi’s eyes. You mindlessly hum— agreeing with him no matter what he had murmured.

You feel Shoto’s embrace leave you— and even you know he's about to bring a rag and a bottle of water to help you but really you could for an extra round. So, you do the thing you're most best at. You fucking whine.

“One more round, please! Just one more round!”

Shinsou and Shoto stare at each other— communicating in a way your brain could no longer comprehend. It instead had chantings of dick! dick! dick! loudly echoing.

His arms cross over his chest, biceps rippling against his black t-shirt. Warm, scented air fans across his cheekbones, Amajiki finds his gaze tracing a new figure by his side. The sofa dips under your weight, and Tamaki finds himself shifting toward the arm of the chair, anxiety blooming in his abdomen.

“Relax, ‘Jiki. It’s just me,” You huff, shuffling next to him. Your knees collide, and the joint rolled between your fingertips drops ash onto his jeans. Your hands brush against his thigh, wiping away grey ash. If he wasn’t on alert already, Amajiki would have blared sirens. Bittersweet fog swirls above his face, adjusting and gently descending into thick, foggy thoughts. “Wanna hit?”

Sitting up straight this time, Tamaki’s tongue swipes over his plump lips. He nods wordlessly, wiping his clammy palms against his ripped jeans. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, the fire sparking beneath dark, grey ash as you hold smoke in your mouth. He considers something else in place of the joint, your warm lips and even warmer tongue wrapped around it as your cheeks hollow out.

Then, your hand finds his cheek, guiding the man forward to hover his lips against your own. He closes his eyes, inhales once more, and dips his head back to the edge of the chair. A grin splays across his face, and, licking his parted lips again, he expels the intoxicatingly smokey weed with his nostrils.

“Good, right?” You chuckle, batting your eyelashes with a coy smile. He isn’t sure how long he stares, but the shy boy finds time escaping his grasp as he watches you blow smoke into his face. He blinks rapidly, biting the inside of his cheek. You’re so pretty under fluorescent lights, the way it bounces off your cheekbones and highlights the apples of your cheeks. The hollow of your cheeks as you inhale smoke look much deeper than they actually are, and before he can register his movements, Amajiki’s fingertips trace the curve of your face.

He carries his finger down until he reaches your chin, leading your gaze upward with just a single digit, pressing two fingers into your mouth. Just as warm as he imagined, if not warmer, and goosebumps crawl across his arm when you flick your tongue upward. Your eyes, glazed over and tinted pink, dilate. The joint falls into his other hand as you gasp, tasting the salty pads of his fingertips. His gaze stubbornly flickers down to the diminishing blunt, and he raises it against his lips to finish it off.

He inhales once, twice, and holds it in his chest until intoxicated smoke wraps around his brain. His clipped nails rake against your soft skin as he pulls you forward, connecting your lips in a hasty kiss. He can taste the sweet, earthy undertone of marijuana on your tongue, and he can’t help but wonder if he tastes the same. Extinguishing the flame between his fingertips, Amajiki let’s the blunt fall into the couch. Your hands creep beneath his shirt, tracing every groove and crevice of his abdomen.

Returning the favor, Tamaki pulls your shirt over your head, disconnecting the smokey kiss with a lazy grin. He absorbs the sight of your shirtless body as his long and thin fingers reach down to unbuckle your belt. He hesitates, lidded indigo eyes staring into your own. Falling victim to something as simple as the way you flutter your lashes, the way you look at him as if he holds the world upon a string— it makes his heart skip a beat. “Is this- Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah,” You nod breathlessly, fisting your hands into his t-shirt as you raise it above his head. Time seems much slower now, muffled music that leaks beneath the small opening of the locked basement door swims in your mind as your lips collide with his pale neck. You leave gentle, open mouthed kisses that trail saliva down his collarbone, and his stream of relaxed groans harmonize with the melodic beat vibrating throughout the room. “Yeah— I am. Are you?”

Amajiki smiles, wider this time, as his large hand presses down on your shoulder and presses you against increasingly clingy leather. He straddles your hips, boysenberry eyes tracing your bottom lip. “Yeah, um. . . Yes, I just— You’re so pretty.”

Your laugh escapes as a slurred snort, your nose scrunching up as a smile pulls at your cheeks. And, for some reason, Tamaki finds himself laughing along with you. He bumps his forehead into yours, breathing in what you breathe out— he’s not so sure if his breath is his own anymore. Your gentle fingers unzipping his jeans kicks the air out of his lungs, Amajiki lifts his hips to help.

Reclining back, Amajiki does the same to you, no longer hesitant. His long fingers infiltrate the tight, elastic band of your underwear before he, confidently, squeezes your inner thigh. The head of his cock pokes upward from beneath its cloth confines, pooling with sticky precum. Tamaki lifts his free hand, collecting its stickiness to add to your own.

Your hips rut feverishly, desperate for skin-on-skin contact. His hard cock throbs against your skin, the room is filled with panting, low moans, and the soft squelching of—

“Oh,” You sigh, and Amajiki feels the weight of the world on his shoulders as he lifts your legs right on top. Unable to find the right words, he kisses your shoulder with the same force of a butterfly’s beating wings. You’re unsure of the time it took for him to crawl off you and somehow find lube, but he’s back before you could register his absence in the first place. “Tama—”

“Okay, alright, shh, pretty boy” His finger isn't met with as much resistance as it normally would have been— maybe it’s the weed. His second finger makes you gasp, makes you whimper, and Amajiki can’t help but groan along with you. Your pleasure is his pleasure, after all.

He moans as he slides inside, unable to help it when he’s so wrapped up in the feeling of how hot and wet are around his cock, of how pretty you look coated with the scent of precum mixed with the fumes of herbs and weed. He slips his hand down to your waist, one tucked under your arm, comfortably intimate, achingly close. You arch your back gracefully, right against his warmth, swallowing him whole.

“You always make me feel so good.”

“You’re such a good boy, my good boy.”