Hyori

“he doesn’t understand the concept of rest,” she’d said, her voice a mix of awe and pity, like she was describing a zoo animal. “he’s so smart he doesn’t actually need to study but for some reason it’s all he chooses to do. if he isn’t in the lab, he’s in a library learning next year’s syllabus.”

“and now,” she’d sighed, leaning against your doorframe, “he’s trying to get some biomedical engineering internship. so he’s even more locked in than usual. like, scarily locked in. like, i don’t think he’s slept in weeks locked in. . .” 

( an internship. of course. because being top of the dean’s list and a member of the cum laude society isn’t enough for satoru gojo. he has to be top of the dean’s list and a member of the cum laude society with a resume so shiny it probably glows in the dark. 

you wonder what it’s like to be that driven, that focused, to have a brain that isn’t constantly at war with itself. and here’s satoru gojo, probably close to solving the mysteries of the universe while you can’t even solve the mystery of why your relationships never last. 

the thought of him, with his perfect grades and his perfect future and his stupidly perfect face, makes you want to simultaneously punch him and. . . well. you try not to think too hard about the other part. )

“we’re covering quantum and nuclear physics in class right now,” shoko’d continued, her eyes gleaming with sleep deprivation and nicotine. “he’s great at both, he got a hundred on the test last week so act like you’re lost and he won’t be able to resist showing off. his ego won’t let him.”

“act like you’re lost,” you’d echoed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, “shoko, i don’t have to act. i am lost. i just read the same wikipedia page like six or seven times and i still can’t tell you what a quark or lepton is” 

she’d just laughed, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips as she handed you a textbook so heavy you thought your arm would snap clean off. “you’ll be fine,” she’d said, “just nod and look pretty. and maybe cry a little. guys love that. it’ll be a piece of cake” 

( easy for her to say. she’s not the one who has sit next to a guy who probably only speaks in equations and somehow make herself seem like a credible physics student. )

the library is practically empty. only a few lights are on, casting pools of yellow across old wooden tables. it’s perpetually silent, making you hyperaware of every sound your body makes. you feel so, so out of place.

you see satoru before he sees you, of course. he’s exactly where shoko said he’d be, tucked away in a corner booth. wearing a simple black hoodie and jeans. the most basic outfit imaginable, but he looks like he should be on the front cover of vogue. it’s annoying.

he’s so completely absorbed in his work, for a moment, you just watch him from behind a shelf, your fingers curled around the spine of the textbook you have zero intention of ever opening once you win this bet. 

( for a split second, you feel a pang of something that feels suspiciously like jealousy. you’re not jealous of his intelligence, but of his passion. of his ability to lose himself in something so completely. what’s that like ? to have something that consumes you so wholly ? to care about something so much that the rest of the world just . . fades away ? 

you can’t relate. you’ve never been able to relate. you’re suddenly very aware of the gap between you and satoru. it’s not just about intelligence. not really. it’s more about depth. he has so much of it. you’re not sure you do )

you take a deep breath, heart fluttering against your ribs. you can do this. you’re a social butterfly. you can talk to anyone. you’ve charmed your way out of parking tickets and talked your way into parties you had no business attending as a freshman. you just have to walk over there and. . . talk. it’s simple. it’s just talking. 

“hey . . . ” you hover for a moment, fingers drumming against the strap of your tote bag. you clear your throat. nothing. not even a flinch. you try again, a little louder, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet space. someone will shush you any second now . . . 

he finally sighs, a sound of pure irritation, like you’ve personally offended him by approaching him. slowly, like every second he’s not spending on his work is killing him, he pulls his navy blue headphones down to rest around his neck. the faint, tinny sound of what you’re positive is minecraft music cuts off mid-note.

“no, coffee girl,” he says, like he’s swatting away a fly. “i’m not going to give you souta’s number. or help you get with him. i have more important things to do.”

you can feel your blood boiling. coffee girl ? seriously ? after the soul-crushing, ego-destroying performance you’d put on at the cafe, you’d hoped – prayed – that he’d at least have the decency to forget your face. but no. he remembers. and to top it all off, he’s given you a humiliating nickname, one that will probably haunt you for the rest of your college experience. 

and the assumption that you’re here for souta, of all people ? it’s insulting. souta was a nice enough guy, you guess, but he’s about as interesting as a slice of bread.

he’d once talked about his collection of soccer jerseys for forty-five minutes at a party. forty-five minutes. you’d rather eat a pile of glass shards than date him. again.

you have to physically stop yourself from reaching over and slapping that smug, unbothered look right off satoru’s stupid, pretty face. pretty ? no. not pretty. petulant. annoying. his face is annoying. that’s the adjective you’re going with. your nose scrunches up in disgust before you can stop it, a reaction that you hope reads as ‘how dare you’ and not, ‘i’m constipated.’

“i would hope not,” you retort, your voice cutting through the library’s silence like a knife. “i’m here for you to help me out with physics. shoko says you’re the best in her class.”

“shoko ?” at that, his head snaps up, and those blue eyes finally meet yours. they’re even more intense than they were at the cafe, a startlingly bright shade that seems to see right through you, like he’s reading your soul’s source code and finding it full of malware

( shoko ieiri, the cynical pre-med student who sits in the back of his lecture hall, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else, like the room is slowly draining the life force from her body. he’s always had grudging respect for her. she’s smart, but she doesn’t feel the need to announce it to the world.

you being friends with shoko is a variable he hadn’t accounted for. he scrutinizes you, who nearly spilled coffee all over his laptop and are now standing in his library, his sanctuary, demanding his help.

you’re really pretty, he’ll give you that. in a sorority-girl kind of way. all bright colors and energy and a smile that probably gets you into places you shouldn’t be. but you’re not his type. not that he really has a type. he doesn’t have time for a type. he has equations to solve and a future to build and an internship to land. )

“she’s my roommate,” you say, trying to sound casual, like your heart isn’t currently attempting to escape through your ribcage.

“so why are you here then ?” he asks, his voice laced with suspicion, eyes narrowing slightly. “wouldn’t it make more sense for her to tutor you ?”

( it’s a good question, he thinks to himself. why are you here, coffee girl ? what do you want from him ? are you trying to get him to do your homework ? is this some sorority initiation ritual ? an elaborate prank ? he  wouldn’t put it past shoko. she’s got a sense of humor that’s as sharp as a scalpel. but you. . . you don’t look like you’re joking. you look . . . desperate. genuinely, desperate. there’s a tremor in your hands, barely visible, and you’re not looking him in the eye. interesting. very interesting. )

“well, she said you’d be more helpful,” you sigh, launching into the story you and shoko had rehearsed until you could recite it in your sleep. you let your shoulders slump, trying to project an air of genuine desperation, which honestly isn’t much of a stretch because you do need him to take the bait. “look, i failed the first quiz on quantum physics, and i won’t be able to join my dream sorority if i don’t get my grade back up soon. i really need your help, and i know your family’s like, super rich, but i’ll still pay you.”

you’ve never felt or sounded more desperate and dishonest in your life but his walls are up so high, and you’re standing outside with a plastic spoon, trying to dig your way in.

( if you can’t convince him to tutor you, how the hell are you supposed to coax him into falling in love with you in the next eight days ? you might be completely, utterly fucked. )

a flicker of something – pity ? amusement ? the faintest trace of both ? –  crosses his face like a cloud passing over the sun. is that really the best you could come up with ? it’s so. . .shallow. so. . . sorority girl. but you look sincere. your hands are trembling, just a little, and you’re picking at the strap of your bag like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

( the offer of money is just . . . insulting. do you really think his time is so cheap ? that he can be bought like a vending machine snack ? )

he’s about to send you away, to tell you to go bother someone else, to go find some other poor soul to torment with your inability to grasp basic physics. but then he thinks of ijichi. poor, lovesick ijichi, who spends his days pining after shoko ieiri like a lost puppy and his nights playing world of warcraft in the dark, his face illuminated only by the blue glow of his monitor. he needs to get out. he needs a life. he needs to talk to a girl who isn’t an npc. and you. . .coffee girl, with your trembling hands and your desperate eyes. . .you’re his ticket to paradise.

“i don’t need your money,” he frowns, and the casual dismissal of your offer stings more than it should. you gape at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

“then what can i give you in return ?”

“peace and quiet,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear, he looks you up and down, a long, assessing sweep of his eyes that makes you feel like a bug under a microscope, pinned and squirming. then, the kind of look a chess player gives the board before making a decisive move crosses his face. “you’re close with shoko, right ?” he asks.

you nod, wary, unsure where this is going. does he have a crush on her ? you really hope that isn’t the case. it’ll certainly make the bet a lot more difficult.

“well, my roommate has a thing for her,” he says, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial level, like he’s sharing classified information. you let out a huge sigh of relief. “if i tutor you, introduce them or something. but obviously,” he adds, his eyes narrowing, “don’t tell her he has a thing for her. ijichi’s. . . down bad. and he’s not the best when it comes to girls.”

( ijichi, he thinks. poor guy. he’s a brilliant coder, one of the best he’s ever seen, but he can’t even order a pizza without having a mini panic attack about whether to say ‘i’d like’ or ‘can i get.’ 

shoko ieiri would eat him alive. she’d chew him up and spit him out before he even finished his first sentence. but maybe. . .maybe that’s what he needs. a little danger in his perfectly ordered, perfectly boring life. and you. . . you’re clearly good at this kind of thing. social engineering. it’s a skill satoru doesn’t have, doesn’t understand, and doesn’t particularly want to. but he can appreciate its value. 

it’s a win-win. he gets ijichi out of his dorm, and he gets a little peace and quiet. and he’ll score brownie points with yaga for tutoring another helpless student. it’s perfect. almost too perfect. )

your eyes light up with glee, a spark of genuine excitement cutting through your anxiety. you can win the bet and possibly play cupid ? what more could you ask for ? this is the universe throwing you a bone, “deal,” you grin, sticking out your hand like you’re sealing a business agreement.

he shakes it, his grip firm and surprisingly warm, his palm dry and steady against your soft, nervous one. your hand is soft, he thinks, a little surprised by the sensation. and small. so much smaller than his. it feels strange in his, like holding a baby bird, delicate and fragile.

he pulls away quickly, a little flustered by the thought, by the unexpected intimacy of the contact. he’s not used to physical contact. not unless it’s a handshake with a professor or a pat on the back from souta. this is. . . different. warmer. more personal. and he doesn’t like it. not one bit. or maybe he likes it too much. which is worse.

“don’t screw this up for him.” he warns

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you grin, already plopping down in the seat next to him, the chair scraping against the floor with a sound that makes him wince. he shifts his sleek laptop to the side with a reluctant sigh, and you dump shoko’s heavy textbooks onto the table with a thud that reverberates through the quiet library, earning you a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

( you’re like a whirlwind, he thinks, watching you settle into your seat with the kind of restless energy that makes him tired just looking at you. you’re the complete opposite of him. of everything he knows.

he’s not sure how he feels about it. but he’s intrigued. against his better judgment, against every instinct that tells him to send you packing, he’s intrigued. it’s like watching a storm approach from a distance. he knows it’s going to be disruptive. he knows it’s going to make a mess. but he can’t look away )

“i’ve never seen you in the lecture hall before,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning your face, searching for cracks in your story.

“i always sit in the back,” you lie smoothly, the words dripping off your tongue like honey. “who’s your professor ?”

“yaga.”

“ah, well, i have gakuganji.”

satoru lets out a short, humorless laugh, a sound that’s more exasperation than amusement. “that makes a lot of sense,” he says. “i’ve heard terrible things about his lectures. he was supposed to be my professor, but all of his slots clashed with my engineering lectures. looks like i dodged a bullet.”

( he thinks gakuganji is nothing short of a fossil, a relic from a bygone era of education. he probably still thinks the atom is the smallest particle and that pluto is still a planet. no wonder you’re failing. poor coffee girl. you don’t stand a chance. not with that dinosaur as your professor. 

he feels a strange surge of something. . . protectiveness ? no. that’s not it. that’s too soft, too sentimental. it’s more like. . . determination. he can’t let you fail. not when your failure is a reflection on his field. on his profession. on the subject he loves more than anything. he has to help you. he has to. it’s a matter of his pride. nothing more. nothing less. definitely nothing more. )

and then he starts from the very basics of nuclear physics. you thought this part would be like watching paint dry, a slow, painful torture session where you’d have to fight to keep your eyes open and your brain from leaking out of your ears. but satoru is surprisingly good at explaining stuff. he breaks down complex concepts into simple, comprehensible parts, his voice low and steady, like a river smoothing over stones. 

he’s so smart it’s almost infuriating, the way the knowledge seems to flow from him effortlessly, like he’s not even trying, like he was born understanding the fundamental forces of the universe. his writing is perfect – of course it is – all even, blocky print like a microsoft font, each letter uniform, like he’d somehow managed to train his hand to be a printer.

he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing strong, toned forearms, muscles shifting beneath his skin as he writes, his arm brushing against yours as he leans over your notebook to write out the basic formulas. a jolt goes through you, you feel like you’ve touched a live wire, and you suddenly realize he’s actually really hot. 

not in the obvious, flashy way of the guys you usually go for, all charm and cologne and carefully cultivated swagger. it’s deeper than that. wayyy deeper. it’s the way his brow furrows when he’s concentrating, the way his long fingers wrap around the pen, the way he talks with his hands, tracing patterns in the air. and he smells really good, like clean laundry, like coffee, cinnamon and cedar. it makes you smile despite yourself.

he’s surprised to find that you’re actually listening. you’re not just nodding along, eyes glazed over with boredom. you’re asking questions. good questions, even. questions that show you’re paying attention, that you’re trying to understand, that you’re not just here to waste his time. 

you’re smarter than you look. not that you look dumb. you look. . . well, you look like a sorority girl. all carefully applied makeup and perfect hair. but there’s a sharpness in your eyes that he didn’t notice before. curiosity. it’s. . . refreshing. he’s so used to people just accepting what he says, to them being intimidated by his intelligence, nodding along like bobbleheads without actually understanding a word he’s saying. but you’re not. 

you’re challenging him. in your own way. you’re pushing back, asking why, demanding explanations that go beyond the surface. and he likes it. he likes it a lot. which is dangerous. which is a problem. he doesn’t have time for problems. he has equations to solve and an internship to land and a future to build. but here he is, enjoying himself, actually enjoying tutoring you, of watching understanding dawn on your face like the sun rising over a dark landscape. it’s. . . nice. oddly nice.

he tutors you for an hour, the time slipping by in a haze of equations and explanations, before making you solve a few problems.

you sit there fidgeting, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your sternum, while he grades your work, his purple pen moving across the page with methodical precision.

you’re actually scared, genuinely, bone-deep scared, because you really don’t know much about physics, and it took you a while to answer the questions, your brain working overtime to apply the concepts he’d just explained. they were mostly theoretical, which was fine, thanks to shoko’s crash course and your own ability to bullshit your way through abstract concepts. but you’re terrified for when he whips out the big equations, the ones with letters and symbols that look more like ancient hieroglyphics than math.

you get a little more than half of them completely correct, with a few half marks here and there for partial understanding. satoru’s got his work cut out for him. but he just sighs, a long, slow exhale that ruffles the hair that’s fallen across his forehead, and makes a few notes in the margin of the paper in his perfect, printer-like handwriting.

“not terrible,” he says, and it feels like the highest praise you’ve ever received, like you’ve just been awarded a nobel prize by the most critical judge in the world.

( seventy percent, he thinks. that’s . . . not bad. considering you’re stuck with the worst professor he’s ever come across and the fact you’ve probably never understood a physics class in your life, or at least that’s the impression you give with your wide eyes and your “what’s a quark” energy. 

you’re a quick study. you pick things up fast, faster than he expected. he’s almost impressed. almost. he’s still not sure what to make of you.

you’re like a puzzle. a really beautiful one with a lot of pieces. and he’s always loved a good puzzle. which is exactly why he should stay away. puzzles are distractions. distractions are dangerous. and he can’t afford to be distracted right now. not with the internship on the line. not with his future hanging in the balance. 

but here he is, already looking forward to your next session, already wondering what questions you’ll ask, what insights you’ll have, what new and unexpected thing you’ll do to throw him off balance.

it’s insane. he’s satoru gojo. he doesn’t have time for this. for you. for the way you make him feel like the world is bigger and brighter and more chaotic than he could have ever imagined. but he can’t help it. you’re like a virus, infecting his perfectly ordered world with your soft hands and sharp, curious eyes. he’s in trouble. he knows he’s in trouble. and he has no idea what to do about it.

“i have to go wrap up some stuff in the lab” his voice is regretful but firm, “you can meet me here tomorrow,” he says, already packing his bag with the same methodical precision he applies to everything. “same time. don’t be late. i’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“that rhymes,” you quip, unable to help yourself, the words slipping out before your brain can catch them. he withers, his expression going so flat and blank that you almost laugh, a sound you have to bite back by pressing your lips together hard. he’s trying not to laugh too.

( you’re so. . . annoying, he thinks. but you’re also. . . kind of funny. in a ridiculous, juvenile, dad-joke kind of way. he shouldn’t encourage you. shouldn’t indulge in your antics. he should just ignore you. but he can’t.

he’s really looking forward to your next session. he’s already smiling in spite of himself. you’re infectious. and the worst part is, he doesn’t even mind. he’s not even trying to fight off the virus anymore. he’s just. . . letting it happen. letting you happen to him. )

he’s gathering his belongings and slinging his bag over his shoulder when he pauses, his hand hovering over the zipper of his bag. “i just realized i don’t even know your name. . .what is it ?”

the question, so fundamental, catches you off guard. of course he doesn’t know your name. why would he ? he recognizes you from the cafe incident and the few frat parties he’s been forced to attend, but he’s never had a reason to learn it. 

you avoid his azure gaze as you tell him. he echoes it out loud, testing it on his tongue, rolling the syllables around like he’s tasting a new flavor. he repeats it slowly, carefully, like he’s committing it to memory, and the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine. 

“it’s a lot nicer than coffee girl” he says, his eyes meeting yours for the first time without a hint of arrogance, without a trace of that smug, dismissive mask he’s been wearing all afternoon. they’re so. . . open. blue and bright. “sorry for calling you that, and for assuming you wanted me to help you get with souta. that’s typically what girls come up to me for. that or they want me to do their homework.”

a wave of regret washes over him like cold water. why did he say that ? now he sounds like a loser. you probably think he’s in the same boat as ijichi now. and to a degree he is. but by choice.

he doesn’t regret apologizing to you though, there was something in your eyes earlier . . . a flicker of hurt, brief and quickly hidden, but he’d noticed it. and he didn’t like it. he didn’t like being the cause of it. he’s used to people being intimidated by him, to them putting him on a pedestal, to them treating him like some kind of specimen instead of a person. to them treating him like a middle man for souta.

but you’re different. you’re not treating him like you want to use him and offer him nothing in return. you’re treating him like he’s just any other guy. a slightly annoying, slightly arrogant guy who happens to be really good at physics. and it’s refreshing. it’s a little terrifying. because this is the first time a girl has come up to him for him. not souta. him. he’s not sure how to handle it.

“no, i don’t want either of those things,” you say, and it’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night, the truest words that have come out of your mouth since this whole ridiculous bet began. “i genuinely don’t understand physics.”

“yeah,” he says, and a small, almost-smile plays on his lips, a tiny, reluctant curve that’s more genuine than anything he’s shown you so far. “i can tell.”

( you’re honest. it’s so rare. so. . .refreshing. he’s surrounded by people who are always trying to impress him, to get something from him, to use him for their own gain. but you’re not.

you genuinely need his help. it feels like a revelation. and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he can just be himself. without the weight of expectations and the pressure of performance. and it’s an exhilarating feeling, like standing on the edge of a cliff and not knowing whether you’re about to fly or fall. )

before you can retort, before you can think of something clever or charming or witty to say, he’s walking away, his long strides carrying him into the stacks, his ivory hair catching the light one last time before he disappears around a corner. 

( what has he gotten himself into ? his heart pounds in his chest as he walks away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet aisles. you’re going to be a distraction. he should have just said no. he should have sent you away. but he didn’t. and now he’s in trouble. he’s in so much trouble. and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t mind it one bit. he doesn’t mind it at all. )

you’re left alone with your textbook and the lingering scent of his cologne, a ghost of warmth and spice that clings to the air. you really do have your work cut out for you. but at least he’s agreed to tutor you. you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope ignite in your heart, a small, stubborn ember that refuses to go out. maybe this bet isn’t so impossible after all.

masterlist day one ⇆ day two ⇆ day three

── ✦ mimi’s notes: satoru cums laude, you heard it here first. i was gonna make him sweeter but cocky nerds are hot ok? if you feel bad for him you’re about to feel a lotttt worse <3

© GYARUJO 2026. please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites. do not feed to ai

instead of nursing your hangover in the comfort of your dorm room, you drag yourself out of bed and trudge to the cafe near campus. it has a partnership with jujutsu tech so you get discounts, which is a bonus. the pastries are great, which is another. plus, suguru is a complete and utter sucker for their vanilla bean cold brews – a fact you’re fully prepared to exploit.

so here you are, standing by the counter waiting for your order, one hand pressed to your throbbing temple while the other scrolls aimlessly through your phone.

the cafe is quiet for late morning – save for the soft hum of espresso machines, the murmurs of students half-heartedly revising for finals, and the clatter of dainty mugs against saucers. rays of sunlight shroud the cafe in a soft, hazy glow. the scent of roasted coffee beans and warm golden pastries lingers in the air, rich and soothing in a way that almost makes your hangover feel bearable. almost.

your head is pounding – a direct result of your questionable life choices – and you can still taste the ghost of last night’s cheap vodka on your tongue. every time you close your eyes you see the image of toji’s smug grin as he’d paraded his new sorority girl around the party.

you push the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. you’re halfway through reading shoko and utahime’s texts about how you’re definitely going to lose this bet and how they’ve started their own bet on how many days it’ll take you to give up, when something catches the corner of your eye. you look up. and there he is in the corner of the cafe, satoru gojo.

he sits by the window, surrounded by what can only be described as a fortress of textbooks. the titles alone make your head hurt. he’s hunched over his laptop, shoulders curved inward in concentration, fingers flying across the keyboard with a speed that’s almost inhuman. a pair of navy blue noise cancelling headphones are clamped over his ears, shutting out the rest of the cafe entirely. 

he somehow looks even more intense than he did at the party last night. he’s like a different species to you, one that doesn’t belong in the wild of a psi bau rager™. he belongs here, in this quiet, sun-drenched corner, surrounded by books.

every now and then he pauses, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with an irritated flick before returning to whatever it is he’s typing. the mellow sunlight filters through the strands of his pale hair, turning them almost silver, and frames his pretty features in a mellow glow. 

you find yourself staring longer than you mean to. he’s so . . . focused. so unbothered. he’s living in a completely different world, a world of equations and theories and things you can’t even begin to understand, and he doesn’t seem to care that anyone else exists. it’s a level of self-assurance you’ve never encountered before. completely unlike the guys you usually date, who are all desperate for validation.

your name is called from the counter and you step forward automatically, grabbing the drinks – a disgustingly large black coffee for suguru and a ridiculously sweet caramel latte for yourself – without taking your eyes off satoru. he still hasn’t looked up. not once. if he isn’t going to notice you . . . you’ll just have to make him.

you stand there in the middle of the cafe for a moment, pondering. a smile slowly tugs at the corners of your lips. this is perfect. he’s completely unsuspecting, a perfect target. you can do this. you can totally do this.

you adjust your grip on the drinks and start walking towards his table, a plan forming in your mind. something that will force him to look at you, to see you.

closer now, you notice the faint crease between his brows as he reads something on his screen. you can also hear the faint rhythm of what sounds suspiciously like minecraft music seeping from his headphones. you have to suppress a giggle. of course he listens to video game music.

you’re practically hovering over him and he’s still oblivious to you, lost in his own little world.

you take one final step past his chair and let your foot catch the leg of it. your body lurches forward and your latte slips in your hand, a perfect arch of creamy coffee flying directly towards his laptop. 

“oh my–” the gasp leaves your lips right on cue. a wave of caramel latte, complete with extra whipped cream, splashes across his table, narrowly missing his textbooks. you didn’t mean to spill that much. a few drops, maybe, to create a moment, a reason to talk. well shit.

to his credit, satoru reacts faster than you expect him to. his arm shoots out, shielding his keyboard as your drink splashes on the table, dangerously close to his belongings. the minecraft music in his headphones cuts off as he yanks them down around his neck, his head snapping up. his eyes, a startlingly bright blue, lock onto yours, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. they’re even more intense up close and are currently filled with a flicker of annoyance.

“careful,” he frowns. you feel your morale sink ever so slightly. that. . . was not the reaction you were expecting. no flustered stammering or no immediate concern for your well-being. he immediately begins inspecting his laptop to check for damages, his brow furrowed in concentration, long fingers carefully wiping away the droplets of coffee from the sleek black casing.

“i’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting down suguru’s coffee and what’s left of yours on the sticky table. you grab a handful of napkins from the nearby dispenser and start dabbing at the lukewarm droplets, feeling your heat rise to your cheeks. this is not going according to plan. at all.

“it’s alright, it’s just coffee,” he finally looks up again, his bright blue eyes focused in a way that makes you feel like you’re being scrutinized under a microscope. it’s unnerving but he’s not angry, not really. you think ?

“i’m such a klutz honestly,” you sigh, trying to recover with a charmingly self-deprecating smile, one that usually works on guys. “i’m literally a natural disaster, i could’ve ruined your textbooks.”

his expression doesn’t change in the slightest. “technically,” he says after a beat of silence, his devoid of any emotion, “that would be more of an anthropogenic accident.”

“. . . what ?” you blink, momentarily stunned. did this guy just correct your metaphor ? who does that ?

“you’re a human,” he explains, as if that isn’t the most obvious thing in the world, “natural disasters occur without human intervention. what you’re describing is an accident caused by human error.”

silence settles between you as satoru watches you clean the table. you wish the earth would soften, open up and swallow you whole. but it doesn’t. you just stand there, dabbing at a sticky table with a handful of napkins, feeling like a complete and utter idiot.

“if you hold your cup closer to the middle,” he offers, tone still matter-of-fact, “it stabilizes the center of gravity.”

“huh ?” you’re completely bewildered by the peculiarity of this cursed interaction. this was not supposed to happen. you were supposed to have a cute, flirty meet-cute, not a freaking physics lesson.

“the middle,” he repeats patiently, gesturing towards your half-empty latte “gripping it higher makes it more liable to tipping. lower your grip, closer to the center of mass, and you’ll have more control.”

you stare at him. for a split second you think he’s joking. his expression says he’s absolutely not. he looks like he’s about to tell you to read a book because your stupid is showing

“. . . right,” you say slowly, feeling completely out of your depth. you’ve never been so thoroughly derailed in your life.

he sets his laptop back on the table once he’s positive his work is no longer endangered, his movements precise and economical.

“you won’t have as many accidents that way,” he murmurs, already turning his attention back to his screen, effectively dismissing you. you press the napkin flat against the table one last time, feeling utterly defeated.

“i’ll. .  uhh. .keep that in mind,” you mumble, backing away from his table.

he nods, barely acknowledging you, and closes his laptop with a decisive click. he slips it, alongside his textbooks, into his bag before standing.

“sorry again,” you try one last time, desperate for some kind of. . .anything. but he’s already slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“it’s no problem,” he says politely as he steps around you, “i have to go anyway.” he gives you a brief, impersonal nod before walking out the cafe without another word. the bell above the door jingles softly behind him. and just like that he’s gone.

you stand there in the middle of the cafe completely dumbfounded. the interaction lasted less than ten minutes and meant absolutely nothing to him. he didn’t even ask for your name. he didn’t even smile at you. 

satoru is proving to be a difficult target. he really isn’t making this easy for you. you pick up your drinks again – carefully from the middle this time – and head toward the door. holy. fucking. airball. this is a million times harder than you’d anticipated.

“there’s no way you spilled your coffee on purpose” suguru splutters, clutching his stomach where he lies sprawled across his unmade bed. his body shaking with laughter as you recount the series of unfortunate events you’d endured this morning.

“i did ! and maybe i’ve watched too many movies but i thought he would at least help me clean it up or crack a joke or something. but no !” you lament, flopping onto a bean bag chair with a dramatic sigh. “all he did was give me a physics lesson. that was so freaking humiliating i’m never going back to the cafe again.”

shoko, who’s perched on the edge of suguru’s desk, wipes a tear from her eyes. “fuck, i wish i could’ve seen it.”

“shut up,” you grumble, burying your face in a pillow. “i lost so much aura and i’m starting to realize that this is genuinely impossible. he’s like a robot.”

“he’s not a robot,” suguru laughs, “you can’t just stumble into his life and expect him to be completely obsessed with you. you’ve gotta speak his language first.”

“and what language is that ? fucking javascript ??”

“ha, you’re funny,” suguru finally sits up and runs a hand through his messy hair. “you just need a legit reason to be around him. one that appeals to his genius brain.”

“like what ?” you sigh, lifting your head to look at him. “we have literally nothing in common, i fear. and he clearly isn’t big on conversations. . so unless i resort to contacting an etsy witch he’s not gonna give me the time of day”

“or just ask him to tutor you” shoko quips, eyes lighting up as she lights her cigarette, ignoring suguru’s protests about her smoking in his room.

you groan, sinking further into the bean bag. “in what ? we have absolutely zero classles together.”

“exactly !” she grins, taking a long drag from her cigarette. “because he’s in the honors college and he’s so wrapped up in his own world, he probably has no clue what you’re majoring in. so you tell him you’re struggling in something that’s a piece of cake to him–”

“why the hell are you helping her ??” suguru interjects, shooting her a well-meaning glare

“i bet utahime that she’d at least last a week” she shrugs, “i’m sitting on a decent pay day here” 

“i hate all of you” you scoff. “and that’s not even going to work anyway, i’m pre-law and he’s into engineering and other confusing stem stuff that i wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.”

“well, tough luck,” shoko murmurs, blowing a perfect smoke ring. “if you plan on asking for help in any other courses you might as well admit defeat right now and swear off men for the rest of college.”

“so what ? do i just pretend to be a stem major to trick him into spending time with me ?” you ask, the idea sounding more and more absurd the more you think about it. how would you even pull that off . . .?

“if you’re actually gonna go through with this nonsense,” suguru sighs, flopping back onto his bed, “you might as well fully commit to the bit. what’s one more lie on top of this whole clusterfuck ?”

you frown at him, but he’s right. if you want to get satoru to fall in love with you, then you’ll have to go about this properly. you chew on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully, you can’t think of any alternatives that would result in satoru really noticing you. so, reluctantly, you settle on the only option you have:

you’ll fake being a struggling physics major and hope he doesn’t see right through you.

the concept of reshaping yourself entirely to catch the attention of someone who’s practically a stranger sounds absurd the more you think about it. but it’s a little too late to back down now. the bet is made, the stakes are set, and your pride is on the line.

“fine,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. “i’ll do it. but you two,” you point at shoko and suguru, “if i go down, i’m taking you with me.”

suguru groans, dragging a hand over his face. “i knew i should’ve just walked the other way freshman year”

“it’s wayyy too late for that,” you grin, “now, tell me everything you know about physics, shoko, i need to sound convincing. oh and i’ll probably need to borrow your textbooks too. . . how heavy are they ?”

a wry smile spreads across shoko’s lips. “heavy enough to knock satoru out with, if you need a backup plan.”

“don’t give her any more ideas,” suguru pales visibly, his hazel eyes wide with horror that seems a little too genuine for your liking. just how little does he think of you ?

“hey, i got you coffee,” you pout, gesturing to the forgotten cup on his nightstand. “you’re supposed to be helping me now.”

“me . . help you . .? y’know souta’s room is right across the hallway,” suguru points out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “if he gets me in my sleep, what use will coffee be to me ?”

“he’s not actually going to kill you,” you wave your hand dismissively. “c’mon, shoko let’s ditch the drama queen. i wanna go look at your textbooks.”

with a solid plan in hand, you’re starting to feel a little more confident about winning satoru over.

you’re smart. you can totally fake your way through physics tutoring. sure, it’ll be boring. mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly boring. but it’s just a bunch of laws and formulas, right ? it’s not like you have to actually do anything except pretend to understand it. plus, you’re a fast learner. what could possibly go wrong ?

masterlist day zero ⇆ day one ⇆ day two

── ✦ mimi’s notes: ^ the answer to that question is everything !! i mean what’s newton’s third law of motion ? don’t be deceived ( like nerdjo ) i hate physics passionately

where bodies press together beneath flashing lights. the scents of cologne, fruit punch, and beer linger in the air. and red solo cups litter every flat surface. a psi bau party ™ is exactly what you need after toji fushiguro dumped you, very publicly, for a sorority girl. 

the aftermath of your split tastes like cheap vodka and dregs of regret. sour and acrid on your tongue.

psi bau has enough alcohol to numb the prickle in your spine from the people staring at you. but it doesn’t have enough liquor to dull the subtle ache in your chest.

it’s an ache that persists despite the fact that you’re not even remotely heartbroken. you’re never invested enough for that. you weren’t in love with toji. not even close. what you’re feeling is something else entirely.

irritation. you’re irritated. irritated at the way eyes follow you with morbid curiosity, waiting for you to shatter. irritated by the whispers trailing after you from the kitchen to the living room. irritated, because your time’s been wasted. again.

“did you hear ? he already took someone else upstairs. poor thing”

‘poor thing ??’ please. you lean against the beer pong table and stare the girl down. she quickly pretends to be very interested in the contents of her solo cup.

you adjust the hem of your top and let your face settle into something more indifferent. across the room, toji emerges with the brunette in greek letters tucked under his arm like an accessory. she giggles, looking extremely pleased with herself. how cute.

“ignore them” shoko says, brows furrowing as she follows your line of sight, “he’s not worth it, and she certainly isn’t either”

you turn away, the sight of toji and his new plaything is less painful than the concern etched across shoko’s features. you don’t want her concern, you want another drink. 

“sugu can you make me another dirty shirley ?” you sigh, fingers brushing against his as you hand him your empty solo cup, “please. and make it strong , i can’t deal with this sober”

“anything for our ‘unofficial frat princess’” he grins, disappearing off into the kitchen before you can throw anything at him

utahime shifts closer to you, her shoulder bumping yours  “so what exactly happened with toji earlier ?”

you swallow. you could tell them about the argument you had in his car. about him calling you a prick tease because you still wouldn’t have sex with him – in your defense, you didn’t have to, and you certainly wouldn’t be getting it on in psi bau’s parking lot – or you could avoid another pity party. you choose the latter, “it’s really nothing, he wanted me to rush his sister sorority”

shoko lets out a snort, “you ? join a sorority ?”

“exactly” you scoff, “he wanted me to fully commit to being his plus-one at all the boring philanthropy events. he wasn’t very thrilled when i told him i’d rather shit in my hands and clap”

“that’s not grounds for a break up. . what are we ?twelve ?” shoko sneers, “i knew his ego was fragile but holy shit that’s pathetic”

“it wasn’t just about frats and sororities though” you add, weaving a half-truth into the lie “the fight started because he has some bizarre issue with my friendship with suguru”

“what a hypocrite” utahime says dryly, “he hangs out with his exes too and he was hooking up with half the girls in that stupid sorority every time you two were ‘on a break’”

you nod, “he was, but i couldn’t care less, it was never that deep”

shoko watches you over the rim of her solo cup “it’s never ‘that deep’ with you”

you frown slightly. “that’s not true”

“for someone who’s got history with like half the guys in this frat—”

“it was all casual” you interject sharply

“—suguru, souta, toji, and what was it . .? like three athletes ?”

“it was two actually” you correct, your jaw tight

she waves her hand dismissively, “have you ever been in healthy, fully-committed relationship ? ”

you open your mouth, a protest ready on your lips, and close it just as quickly. you have nothing tangible to say.

utahime presses, her voice softer  “have you ever allowed anyone to be in love with you ?”

the music seems to recede, the thumping bass replaced by the erratic thudding of your heart. suguru hands you your dirty shirley. you thank him absentmindedly.

“well ?” shoko prompts, arms crossed over her chest

“well, stop interrogating me” you retort, taking a drawn out sip from your crimson solo cup. rum and sickly sweet grenadine seep over your tongue. “i could make anyone at this party fall in love with me if i actually wanted them to”

utahime nearly chokes on her drink “righttt. . . ”

“wanna bet?” you grit your teeth, “i could have anyone wrapped around my finger in like . . ten days”

silence falls around your little circle. shoko and utahime exchange a look that’s a mix of disbelief and intrigue. 

 “aren’t we too old for stupid bets ?” suguru splutters

“i’m not too old for anything” you scowl, “because i’m quite sick of you guys acting like i’m hard to love”

“are you serious. . .” shoko says, it’s more of statement than a question

“oh, i’m dead serious” you reply, a smile playing on your lips “ten days. . or less. i’ll have someone head-over-heels in love with me before you can say six-seven”

“you’ll get bored by day three and start looking for an out that doesn’t involve hurting their feelings, which will obviously hurt their feelings even more” utahime murmurs

“i’m not the one who gets bored” you scoff

“regardless, it’s a terrible idea” suguru groans, dragging a hand through his dark hair, “it might be your worst one yet, and that’s saying something.”

“if i win” you continue, eyes gleaming as you look at each of them in turn, “i get to use suguru’s car for a month. and you” you point at suguru, “are going to campaign for me. i want to be psi bau’s princess”

suguru looks physically ill. “my car ?! you drive like you have nine lives. . and you hate greek life ! isn’t that the reason why you and toji–”

“semantics” you cut him off, “imagine the look on toji’s face when he has to attend a meeting about me”

“i thought you didn’t care about toji” shoko raises a brow

“i don’t, but i love being petty” you say, “if i don’t get someone to fall in love with me then i’ll just stay away from guys for a bit. happy ? ”

shoko shakes her head, “you’re gonna stay away from guys for the rest of the year”

you groan, dragging a hand down your face, “that’s insane i’m only using the car for a month”

“three months then” suguru counters, “no dating and absolutely no stupid situationships” 

“fine” you agree, perhaps a little too quickly, “but if i have to be a chud, i want your car for three months too, not just one and i’m not paying for your gas”

“fine” he groans, “but for the love of everything holy don’t crash my baby”

“oh, and no flirting with anyone if you lose” shoko adds, “if you’re looking at a guy for more than ten seconds, it counts”

you sigh, glancing back across the room. toji’s disappeared with the brunette again. “fine”

“okay” shoko says, leaning against the sticky beer pong table. her expression is solemn, like this is a board meeting rather than a frat party, “glad we’re all on the same page. pick your next victim”

you roll your eyes but you let your gaze sweep across the room. your vision swims throughout the sea of jocks, frat boys, and stoners. 

“shiu ?” utahime suggests, “he’s not that bad”

“toji’s best friend ? absolutely fucking not.” shoko shoots that down immediately, “they’re practically the same person”

“not nanami” you murmur, spotting the tall blond man near the staircase, “we’ve got too many mutual friends,”

“ryomen ?” utahime offers, nodding towards the left side of the living room

sukuna is leaning against the wall, looking like he’s allergic to joy. you wrinkle your nose, “hard pass. he’s literally unc and he hates everything and everyone,”

“choso ?”

“absolutely not” you laugh, “yuki would never speak to me again” 

“higuruma ?”

you shake your head, “he’s pre-law, he’d figure it out almost immediately, and we have so many classes together. it’s not worth it”

“suguru ? souta ?” shoko prompts, half-joking. suguru looks positively mortified

“been there, also been there. plus souta hates me” 

“see ?” utahime says, gesturing vaguely at the collegiate crowd “everyone here knows you and your track record. you’ve already lost the bet”

your lips part, ready to argue but then you see him. and the words die on your tongue

across the room souta weaves through the crowd like he owns the place. his toned arm is slung over someone who looks like a carbon-copy of him. same snow-white hair. same bright blue eyes. same looming height. but where souta is all loose shoulders, cocky smiles, and chaos, this guy is . . . the exact opposite. his jaw is clenched and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. cute

“toru c’mon” souta’s laughter carries over the music, “just one shot ! you’ve been doomscrolling that stupid interview script for hours”

“it’s not stupid” his twin snaps, adjusting his glasses with an irritated flick as they slide down his nose. “i have to prepare, the first round is tomorrow and i don’t want to smell like tequila during the selection process”

“you’re basically already dead inside, what’s a little liver damage ? ” souta groans, “live a little !”

“i’d rather live responsibly. unlike you”

“i’m plenty responsible” souta mumbles, but he finally gives up, throwing his hands in the air before slinking off to the kitchen. his twin retreats to the wall right across the beer pong table, completely out of place. he pulls out his phone, the screen’s blue glare reflects off his lenses.

“i didn’t know souta had a twin” you muse, setting your solo cup down on the edge of the beer pong table. a drop of your dirty shirley trickles down your knuckle. you absentmindedly lick it away. your friends follow your gaze across the room.

“uhh you had a thing with souta freshman year” shoko sighs, “how the hell don’t you know ?”

“souta and i never did much talking” you shrug, unable to tear your eyes away from the wallflower “so what’s the deal with his brother ?”

“that’s satoru” utahime quips, “the ‘other’ gojo. the one who actually uses his brain. he’s here on a full-ride even though their family’s filthy rich. perfect gpa, founder of the campus coding club and head of the debate team. your typical overachiever”

you study him as he frowns at whatever is on his screen. “he’s kind of cute” you admit, biting back a genuine smile.

“no” suguru says immediately, cadence firm and rigid “absolutely not, don’t even think about”

“please” shoko snorts into her drink, “you’ll have him questioning every single one of his life choices in seconds ”

“what ?” you whirl around to face them, arching a brow defensively “why the hell are you guys acting like i’m some evil man-eater ?”

“because” suguru says slowly, gesturing to where satoru stands, “that is souta’s identical twin brother”

“i’m aware of the concept of twins, suguru” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, “i’m not that stupid”

“and you” he continues, undeterred “are you.”

“what the hell is that supposed to mean ?”

“it means” utahime says, soft brown eyes pouring into yours, “you suck at relationships. you always end up really hurting people. and we know you don’t mean to–”

“i don’t suck at relationships” you huff defensively, folding your arms over your chest, “and i haven’t actually hurt anyone”

“you went out with souta for three weeks” suguru points out, “and then he spent the rest of the semester listening to juice wrld and xxxtentacion”

“we wanted different things !” you insist, though the memory of souta’s wounded puppy-dog eyes after you ghosted him flashes in your mind

“he wanted a girlfriend” utahime deadpans. “you wanted someone to go to parties with”

“and toji ?” shoko presses, “let’s not even get started on the last couple of months”

“toji doesn’t count.” you retort, “he’s a walking red flag ! he’s the one who’s avoidant. not me” 

“i don’t think your therapist would agree with that statement” suguru snickers, “speaking of, when last did you see her because i think you should have a session as soon as possible”

( frankly, your therapist wouldn’t agree with any of this. she’d never approved of your love life anyway )

“okay, that’s enough” you look away before the irritation crawling up your spine can show on your face. you can’t believe this. your own friends, painting you as some heartless siren. it’s beyond insulting

( heaven forbid a girl isn’t the best at romance )

“look” suguru says, his tone softening as he follows your gaze back to satoru, “satoru isn’t like the guys you usually go for”

“and that’s the understatement of the century” shoko adds, “unlike the rest of these meatheads, he doesn’t care about popularity, or parties. hell, he barely cares about anyone who isn’t in the honors college.”

“he’ll be impossible to wrap around your finger” utahime agrees, “you didn’t even know he existed five minutes ago. plus, you’re literally polar opposites. you like partying. he likes engineering. it would never work”

across the room, satoru shifts against the wall. his discomfort is blatant even from a distance. someone tries to hand him a red solo cup and he declines with a barely perceptible shake of his head, his blue eyes never leaving his phone. he’s completely unimpressed by everything around him

you watch him a beat too long before murmuring, “exactly” you lower your cup slowly, glossy lips curving into a smile

shoko narrows her eyes suspiciously, “exactly what ?”

“exactly why it has to be him” you say, “the whole point of the bet isn’t to prove i can make some jock or frat boy fall for me. it’s to prove that i can make anyone fall in love with me. what’s the point of an easy win ?”

suguru lets out a long, pained groan “oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”

“you said he’d be impossible” you continue, your gaze drifting back to satoru. your target is typing out something with an admirable degree of focus, thumbs flying across his sceen. his brows are slightly furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he exhales slowly, as if he’s counting down the seconds until he can leave.

“well, i think i’ll have him hooked in ten days” you grin

suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, “i’d rather call the bet off and let you drive my car for free”

“why ?” you ask, completely perplexed, “what’s the big deal ?”

“the big deal” suguru says, lowering his voice to a whisper, “is that satoru is actually a really good guy. and if you make him fall for you because of this stupid bet and whatever issues you still haven’t resolved in therapy and souta finds out. . . he won’t just be mad at you. he’ll murder me.”

“relax sugu” you murmur, “it’s pretty harmless. if he doesn’t fall for me, you guys are right and i’ll take a break from guys. if he does fall for me i’ll be with a good guy for once – which nitta will love! it sounds like a win-win to me” 

utahime squints at you, “you’re not actually going to date him”

“why not ?” you counter, “he’s smart, he’s cute, and – no offence sugu – he’s definitely an upgrade from all my exes”

“because by all accounts satoru gojo is the most nerdy, boring person on this campus” shoko insists bluntly, “and you get bored very easily”

“i don’t get bored easily” you frown, “and i don’t appreciate this mischaracterization from my so-called best friends”

“that’s beside the point” utahime interjects, “a relationship built on deceit is good for nothing . .”

“i’m begging you” suguru pleads, digging his fingers into his temple, “just pick someone else”

you’re not sure if this impulsive decision stems from the liquor thrumming beneath your skin, or your infinite insecurities. but your mind is completely made up.

your gaze drifts back to satoru again. his eyes lift from his phone for a moment – sweeping across the room, passing over you like you’re just another person getting drunk by the beer pong table – before returning to the illuminated screen in his hand. you don’t even exist to him

“see ?” utahime says pointedly beside you, “he didn’t even notice you !”

you smile thoughtfully, you’ve never had to chase anyone before. you’ve never wanted to try, you’ve never had to but . . “now, i want this even more”

“that is the worst possible thing you could’ve said” suguru inhales sharply, “i’m a dead man, souta’s going to kill me . . .”

“he’s going to kill all of us” utahime sighs, “shoko, why the hell would you entertain this ?”

“i just asked a simple question, don’t throw me under the bus” shoko says, holding her hands up defensively, “ we, yes we, are all responsible for this”

satoru gojo stands by the wall, blissfully unaware that he’s just become the center of your very bad idea. he’s the only person who hasn’t looked at you twice tonight. and you are very determined to change that.

masterlist day zero ⇆ day one

── ✦ mimi’s notes: first chapter everybody twerk! going on the record to say that this series is nothing like the movie but i don’t wanna spill too much ( wink wink )

you let satoru do as he pleases, threading your hands through his hair as his hand dips between your inner thighs. he hums into your neck when you scratch his scalp. “suguru,” you breathe, “how’d you two even get here? coach toji’s gonna kill you guys.”

“kiss,” satoru interrupts. you tilt your head towards him, eyes still on suguru as gojo presses his lips to yours.

suguru’s face twists in disgust, but he doesn’t comment. “satoru bribed him. paid him a couple hundreds to see you for five minutes.”

“right—” your voice strains when gojo gropes your ass once again. “and you followed him because?”

geto is already looking away. “he bribed me too.”

you snort, but it turns into a shiver as satoru sucks on your earlobe. he hums, pleased, when your fingers tighten in his hair.

“mmh… got an away match,” he kisses your jaw. “wanted to see my girl first.”

you’re not his girl, you know you’ll never be, but you still laugh when he squeezes your waist & presses hurried kisses to your cheek. you shove him away & his grin is cocky.

“gonna score for you,” he tugs you back, dipping his head to your ear. “and then you’ll treat me, yeah?”

you hum when his arms snake around your hips once again.

“only if you score the winning goal.”

2. POST MATCH SEXCAPADES !

satoru comes back too late.

you’re not sure exactly why—maybe overtime, maybe the team stopped somewhere to celebrate their win—but you don’t let the thought plague you. you’re more concerned about the fact that it’s nearly evening & you can hear a ball kicking against the gym walls. you’re still in your cheer uniform, tiny skirt & sheer top, standing at the metal doors as you watch gojo dribble on his own.

he stops dribbling to catch his breath, wiping sweat off his chin. and then he’s off to sit at the bleachers, letting water slide down his neck as he chugs from a bottle.

you take it as your cue.

you have your hands behind your back, padding all slow, steps soft as you make your way to him. gojo keeps his bottle pressed to his lips but he sees it. how your skirt clings to your thighs. how your breasts ripple under the thin material. he lets out a low hum as you sit yourself on his lap.

you loop your hands around his neck. “hi.”

his lip tugs. “hi,”

he squeezes your waist as you press yourself into him. your tits smush against his chest, nipples hardening, and his fingers are already tracing the hem of your skirt & gliding up your thigh.

“how was the match?” you mumble.

“was good,” he mutters, but his thumb has already found your panties underneath your skirt. he rubs a slow circle over the bud. “you miss me?”

“no,” you sass, but he presses his thumb into your clit & your hips stutter. satoru laughs.

“i know what you like now,” he hums, left hand gliding up your side as the other rubs slow circles over your panties. “know it only takes a little.”

his thumb finds your nipple through your thin shirt. he rubs a circle over the pebbled peak, slow, but then he raises a brow. “no bra?”

you can’t respond. your breath hitches as your head falls into his shoulder.

“so cute,” he murmurs softly. he lets you press against him, leaving your panties to grope your heavy tits in his palm. he squeezes and fondles, pressing light kisses to your cheek as you make pretty noises in his ear. your hips buck into him.

“needy,” he scoffs, but his hands come up to guide your hips as you rut against him. he’s already hard and your panties are soaked thin and you let the material cling between your folds as your clit rubs against him. he flips up your skirt to find you drenched & slobbering. he bites his cheek.

“fuck, baby,” he rasps, sliding your panties over your aching cunt. you’re still humping him. “why’s your pussy so fucking wet?”

you only whimper as he presses his thumb to your sticky clit, rubbing hard circles over the bud. his other hand gropes your hip, guiding you faster over him. your breathing shudders as his thumb circles your clit faster and harder, until your hips are stuttering & he’s cupping your pussy so you cum in his palm.

you whimper, tears pricking at your lashes as you come down from your high. satoru kisses your cheek slow. “mmh, good job, baby.”

he’s still rubbing his palm over your pussy, massaging your warmth all slow & lazy. your eyes drop to his bulge, his cock practically twitching in his shorts. you reach a hand to glide over it, palming him so his hips twitch. he inhales sharply, “fuck—”

“not in my uniform,” he steals your hand, kissing your jaw. “gonna be a nightmare to clean.”

you glare at him through your lashes. “it’s already dirty, idiot.”

he laughs at your pretty face glaring up at him. your cheeks are still flushed, lashes wet, and your lips are in a frown but satoru swears you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. he folds his hand over yours and dips his head to kiss you warm & slow. you gasp as his tongue pushes in, a soft moan leaving your lips as his tongue grazes yours.

“another time,” he murmurs against your lips. “no pouting, yeah?”

you pout anyways, and satoru kisses it off.

3. NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND !

satoru is driving too fast.

his jaw is tight, knuckles white against the steering as you clutch your seatbelt beside him. your heart hammers against your ribs but the engine soon slows, his foot easing down on the breaks as the car comes to a stop at a traffic light.

today’s match went bad, really bad, so bad to the point that afterwards you’d tried to console him and he’d simply walked past. you try not to let it get to you. you know how men are when it comes to losing in sports.

but satoru’s breathing settles beside you, so you try once more.

“you played good today.”

silence.

"i know you're upset," you continue, voice soft. "but it's just one game, and you'll get them next time.”

silence again. his jaw only ticks, face illuminated by the traffic light’s red glow. the seconds seem to stretch into minutes, and you fumble with your skirt.

“you did your best,” you turn to him. “that’s all that matters—“

“can you stop?”

you freeze.

satoru doesn’t look at you. his fingers tap against the steering as he lowers his foot to the gas pedal. he’s not speeding anymore, but the silence stretches & you can feel a lump clawing at your throat.

you bite your lip. and satoru’s mad, yes, but he’s got no right to talk to you like that or take his anger out on you. so you suck in a breath, try to correct him. “i was only trying to help. you don’t have to take it out on me—“

“do you ever get tired of talking?”

“what?”

but satoru continues. “you always have something to say, don’t you? you’re not my fucking girlfriend. and i don’t need your fucking comfort.”

you blink. the words don’t register at first, but soon your throat is closing up, and you’re nodding obediently before you can think any better of it. your skirt bunches in your hands as you try to keep your breathing steady. god forbid you give him a reason to snap at you once again.

“you’re right,” you try for sass but it fails. “and i won’t act like it again.”

but satoru sees you through the rearview mirror. your eyes are on your lap, like you’re still trying to process what just happened, your thumbs fiddling with the hem of your skirt. satoru only swallows, glances away. if he ignores you long enough, you’ll be just fine, right?

your breath hitches beside him and he crumbles immediately.

he’s already pulling over, unbuckling his belt to reach over the console. “no baby, i’m sorry,” he pleads, and maybe he shouldn’t because it only makes tears fall from your eyes. “shh baby don’t cry, i’m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry.”

he smushes your face into his chest, carding his fingers through your hair. you try to push him away but he takes your hand and presses it to his chest.

“didn’t mean to snap at you,” his breathing is ragged as he cups your face. “don’t cry baby, you know i hate it when you cry.”

you sniffle as he swipes a thumb over your wet lashes. “then what are we?”

satoru doesn’t answer. instead he presses his lips to yours, slow and warm, head tilting to deepen the kiss. “you’re my girl,” kiss. “my baby,” kiss. “my everything,” kiss.

he doesn’t say my girlfriend. but he doesn’t need to, right?

footballer!gojo doesn’t do relationships. and cheerleaders like you don’t make good girlfriends anyway. so you swallow the lump growing in your throat & let him part open your thighs.

SCORE, end

And you’re so used to it, the casual touching, the way they both smell faintly of cedar and whatever cologne they stole from each other, that you never question how heavy their breathing gets when you shift and your ass presses back against Eren’s hips.

You yawn, stretch like a cat, and announce it without thinking.

“I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”

The room doesn’t freeze. Not exactly.

But the lazy thumb on your thigh stops dead. Toru’s fingers pause mid-scratch against your scalp. The only sound left is the muffled explosions from the television and the sudden harsh rhythm of Eren’s exhale through his nose.

“A date,” Eren repeats. Flat. Like he’s tasting something bitter.

“Yeah,” you hum, oblivious, scrolling through your phone now. “This guy from chem. He’s cute. Kinda tall. Said he’d take me to that new ramen place downtown.”

Toru’s voice comes quieter than usual. Almost gentle. “Tomorrow.”

“Mhm.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, smiling all sweet and glassy-eyed like you always do when you’re happy. “Why? You guys wanna come third-wheel? I can ask if he’s cool with it.”

Eren laughs, but it’s wrong. Sharp, with no humor in it at all.

He shifts under you suddenly, strong hands clamping around your hips, keeping you pinned right where you are. You squeak in surprise, thighs squeezing together on instinct.

“No,” he says. Low and dangerous. “We don’t wanna third-wheel, princess.”

Toru’s hand slides from your hair down to your throat…not choking, just… holding. Collarbone to jaw. His thumb brushing the soft skin under your chin so you have to look at him.

“You’re not going,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Huh?”

“You’re not going on a date,” Eren cuts in, voice rougher now, hips rolling up just enough that you feel exactly how hard he is. Not subtle. Not pretending anymore. The thick outline of him presses insistently against your ass through thin layers of fabric. “Not with him. Not with anyone.”

Your breath catches. You’re still trying to process, still trying to stay in that sweet, fuzzy headspace where they’re just your overprotective best friends so when Toru leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth soft, teasing and barely there, you're a bit stunned to say the least.

But Eren doesn’t tease.

He grabs your chin, turns your face towards him, and kisses you like he’s been starving for it. Deep and messy, his tongue sliding against yours before you can even gasp. One hand fists in your hair while the other slips under the hoodie, rough palm skating up your bare stomach until he’s cupping your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple like he’s done it a thousand times in his head, he grabs it and balls up the fabric in his palm and tugs it off you, throwing it behind the couch without care.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard. Your lips are swollen. His eyes are dilated, black eating the emerald green.

“We’ve been good,” he rasps. “So fucking good. Letting you prance around in those tiny shorts, letting you sleep between us, letting you rub that pretty little body all over us every night like it’s nothing. But a date?” He laughs again low and bitter. “Nah, baby. That shit ends tonight.”

Toru’s mouth finds your neck. Open-mouthed, he sucks a bruise right under your jaw while his hand slides between your thighs, not touching your pussy yet, just cupping you over your panties, letting you feel the heat of his palm.

“You’ve been so sweet to us,” Toru whispers against your skin. “Letting us hold you. Letting us get hard and pretend it’s an accident. But we’re done pretending, baby.”

Eren’s fingers pinch your nipple harder and you whimper embarrassingly which makes them both look at each other in unison and smirk.

“We both think about this cunt every single night,” he growls. “Every time you fall asleep between us, we’re rock fucking hard imagining how tight you’d feel. How wet you are, how you’d cry our names when we finally stretch you open.”

Toru hums in agreement, middle finger pressing just enough against your clit through the cotton that your hips jerk.

“You’re ours,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s always been obvious. “Always have been. You just didn’t know we were waiting for permission to take what’s ours.”

Eren leans in again, lips brushing yours.

“Tell us you want it,” he murmurs. “Tell us you want both of us. Or we stop right now… and you can go on your little date tomorrow like a good girl.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“But if you do…” He smiles slowly, a feral glint in his eyes,"We're not letting you leave this couch until your pussy’s so full of us you can’t even think about another man’s name.”

Your thighs tremble.

Your heart hammers, you aren't entirely sure if the imagery Eren’s just conjured up is what has your body on fire and mind in disarray with boiling want. Do you really want them both at the same time, your best friends…were you always this naive about them or did you just realise that you want them too.. God, yes you fucking do.

And between them now, with their warmth, dicks hard and unyielding tension, you feel something inside you finally give in.

Soft and sweet and a little dumb with want.

“…please,” you whisper.

Eren groans like you just handed him the keys to heaven.

Toru smiles against your throat.

“Good girl.”

You’re still trembling from the way they pinned you down, Eren’s mouth bruising yours, Satoru’s teeth grazing your throat and when Toru shifts, sitting up straighter on the couch. His hoodie is rucked up just enough to show the sharp cut of his hips, the light trail of hair disappearing into gray sweats that are doing nothing to hide how fucking thick he is.

“Baby,” he says, voice all soft velvet now, “need your mouth.”

Your eyes drop automatically. His hand catches yours, guides it down slow until your palm presses flat over the obscene bulge. Even through the fabric you can feel the heat, the heavy throb. He’s so hard it looks painful, long, thick and curving up toward his stomach like it’s begging.

“See, baby? m’hard for you,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your knuckles while he makes you feel every inch. “Been like this every night you sleep between us. Couldn’t help it. Your little ass grinding back, those tiny whimpers you make in your sleep… fuck.”

You swallow. Your mouth feels too wet, too empty.

He tugs the waistband of his sweats down just enough. No underwear.. you think thats gross but also fucking hot ugh. Just him and his fat, flushed cock, the tip already slick and shiny with precum that beads at the slit and drips slow down the underside. It twitches when the cool air hits it. So pretty. So stupidly big. The kind of cock that makes your thighs clench on instinct.

You’re sweet about it. Always sweet. You lean forward without being told twice, pressing the softest, open-mouthed kiss right to the fat head. Your lips brush the sticky tip and he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking like he can’t help it.

“Good girl,” Toru breathes. One hand cups the back of your head, not pushing, just holding. “Just like that. Kiss it again. Taste me, pretty please.”

You do. Another slow, filthy kiss. Then another. Letting your tongue flick out to lap at the precum, salty and warm. He groans low in his throat.

“Open up, baby. Gonna teach you exactly how I like it.”

You part your lips. He guides himself in slowly, inch by thick inch, until the head sits heavy on your tongue. Your eyes water instantly at the stretch, but you don’t pull back. You just look up at him with those big, glassy eyes while he starts telling you what he wants.

“Suck the tip first.. yeah aaaah- just like that. Swirl your pretty tongue around it. Fuck… goodness baby. Now take a little more. Relax your throat for me, sweet thing. Breathe through your nose.”

You try. You really try. He’s so big it makes your jaw ache already, but the way he’s looking at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen makes you want to take all of him. You hollow your cheeks, suck soft, letting your tongue drag along the thick vein underneath.

Behind you, Eren’s been patient. Too patient.

His hands find the backs of your thighs, prying them apart until you’re spread wide across his lap. Cool air hits your soaked panties and you whimper around Toru’s cock.

“Come on, baby girl,” Eren growls against the shell of your ear. “Won’t you let me see this pretty pussy? Been dying to look at it properly.”

His fingers hook into the crotch of your panties, tugging them to the side. You’re dripping. Embarrassingly so, strings of slick connecting your folds to the fabric when he pulls it away and he groans like he’s in pain.

“Fuck. Look at her, Toru. She’s fucking soaked.”

Toru’s hips stutter forward, pushing a little deeper into your mouth at the sight. You gag softly but keep going, drool's already slipping down your chin.

Eren’s fingers slide through your folds slowly with deliberate care, coating themselves in your wetness before he finds your clit. Cute little swollen thing, peeking out and begging. He rubs it in tight, mean circles with his thumb while two fingers tease your entrance, not pushing in yet. Just circling. Spreading you open.

“So wet for us,” he mutters. “This little cunt’s been waiting, huh? Knew you needed both of us stretching you out.”

You moan around Toru’s cock, the vibrations making him curse under his breath. Your hips buck forward into Eren’s hand without thinking, chasing the pressure on your clit.

Toru’s grip tightens in your hair. “That’s it, baby. Keep sucking. Gonna fuck your mouth slow while Eren plays with this perfect pussy. You’re doing so good for us.”

Eren slips one finger inside you, then another immediately, curling them just right while his thumb keeps working your clit in relentless little strokes. You’re shaking now, thighs trembling, drool dripping down Toru’s cock as you try to take him deeper. 

Eren hooks his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties now, tugging them down with slow, patient care, down the swell of you ass and the crotch is soaked, from his spit and your sticky slick. Once he gets it off he presses an open mouthed kiss to your pretty cunt, his mouth fully englufing you with no barrier stopping him anymore.

They’ve got you right where they want you, split open between them, mouth full, cunt dripping, completely theirs.

And they’re only just getting started.

Toru’s grip in your hair turns firmer but not cruel, just enough to remind you who’s in control. He rocks his hips up slow, feeding you another thick inch until the head bumps the back of your throat and your eyes water instantly. You gag around him, soft and wet, helpless little sound that makes his abs flex and his breath hitch.

“Fuck, baby… that’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Gag on it. Let me feel that tight little throat squeeze me. You’re so sweet when you try to take it all.”

Tears prick your lashes. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, slicking down his shaft, dripping onto your chin and the couch beneath. You’re messy for him, always so eager to please and he loves it. Loves the way your tongue still tries to swirl even when you’re struggling, the way your cheeks hollow every time he pulls back just to push in again.

Behind you, Eren’s done playing nice.

He’s got your thighs shoved wide, knees hooked over his shoulders now so your ass is lifted just enough for him to bury his face where he’s been dying to be. Rough hands spread your cunt open, his fingers digging into soft, slick flesh, holding you apart like he’s displaying you. You’re so wet it’s obscene: glistening folds, clit swollen and throbbing, strings of arousal clinging to his fingers when he pulls them away.

“Look at this sloppy little pussy,” he mutters against your inner thigh, hot breath fanning over your core. “Dripping all over my hand just from sucking him off. You love being used like this, don’t you?”

Before you can even whimper around Toru’s cock, Eren slaps your pussy, a sharp, wet smack that makes your whole body jolt. The sting blooms fast into heat, clit pulsing harder. You cry out muffled around the thick length filling your mouth.

Eren does it again. Harder. The sound is filthy, each wet smacks echoing in the quiet room. Your hips buck uselessly, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Sensitive already?” he taunts, voice low and mean. Then he spits, right on your clit, a thick glob of saliva landing perfectly, sliding down your folds. He watches it drip with dark eyes before leaning in and dragging his tongue flat from your entrance to your clit in one long, slow stripe.

You sob around Toru. The vibration makes him curse and thrust deeper, holding you there until your nose brushes his pelvis and you’re choking sweetly, and tears streaming.

Eren eats you like he’s starving. Tongue flicking fast over your clit, then sucking it between his lips with hard pulls that make your thighs shake. He alternates: sloppy open-mouthed kisses to your folds, tongue dipping inside to fuck you shallow, then back to circling that needy little bud. Every time you get close, your hips grinding and muffled moans turning desperate, he pulls back. Just enough.

Edging and Torturing you… keeping you right on the brink.

“Uh-uh,” he growls when your cunt flutters, so close you can taste it. Another slap, lighter this time, but it still makes you yelp around Toru’s cock. “Not yet, baby girl. You don’t come until we say.”

Toru’s breathing is ragged now, hips stuttering as he fucks your throat in shallow thrusts. “She’s gonna make me come if she keeps moaning like that,” he warns Eren, but there’s no real complaint in it, just raw need. “Fuck… her mouth’s so warm. So fucking wet.”

Eren hums against your clit, the vibration ripping another choked sound from you. He spits again messily then sucks your clit back into his mouth while two fingers slide inside, curling against that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

You’re shaking. Drooling. Gagging sweetly every time Toru bottoms out. Cunt clenching around Eren’s fingers while he edges you mercilessly with every lick, suck, slap, spit, repeat.

They’ve got you trapped between them, mouth stuffed full, pussy spread and devoured, body trembling on the edge of something massive.

Toru’s thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, almost tenderly and he slips his cock out of from your mouth and taps the tip of his cock to your lips as you catch your breath, smearing bubbly saliva and pre over your lips messily.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Taking us both so pretty.”

Eren pulls back just long enough to murmur against your dripping folds:

“Gonna let you come soon, baby… but only when you’re choking on his load and begging for mine.”

Your whole body clenches at the promise.

They’re not stopping.

Not until you’re ruined for anyone else.

Eren pulls back from your dripping cunt with a wet, obscene sound, his lips shiny, chin slick with you. He’s breathing hard, eyes dark and blown out like he’s high off the taste. Without a word he shifts, lying flat on his back along the couch, one arm hooked behind his head while the other reaches for your hip.

“Come on, baby,” he rasps, voice rough from all the growling and licking. “Sit on my face. Need this pretty pussy grinding on my tongue right fucking now.”

You’re still dazed, mouth swollen from Toru, thighs shaking from the edging, but the command cuts through the fog. You crawl forward on shaky knees, straddling his head. He doesn’t wait for you to settle. Big hands clamp around your hips and yank you down hard until your soaked cunt is pressed flush to his mouth.

The first swipe of his tongue is filthy, long and flat dragging from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, vibrations ripping a broken moan from your throat. Then he’s eating you messy: lips sucking at your folds, tongue fucking inside shallow and greedy, nose bumping your clit with every tilt of his head. He’s loud about it slurping, sucking and growling against your core like he’s trying to drink you dry.

Your hands scramble for purchase, fingers digging into the back of the couch as your hips rock instinctively, grinding down on his face. He loves it. Encourages it with bruising grips, guiding you to ride his tongue harder and faster.

Toru’s been watching the whole time, stroking himself slow and lazy while you gagged on him earlier. Now he stands up beside the couch, his sweats shoved down to his thighs, cock flushed dark and glistening from your spit. He steps closer, one hand fisting the base while the other cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“Open up again, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Gonna fuck this pretty mouth while he eats you out.”

You part your lips on instinct, still so sweet, so pliant and he slides back in. Not gentle this time. He pushes deep right away, hitting the back of your throat until your eyes water fresh and you gag around him, sloppy and wet. Drool spills immediately, running down your chin, dripping onto Eren’s chest below you.

Toru starts thrusting in, slow at first, letting you adjust, then deeper, harder. One hand tangles in your hair to hold you steady while the other braces on the back of the couch. “That’s it… throat me like a good girl. Fuck, look at you nmgh taking it so sloppy, making such aaah mess.”

Every time he bottoms out you choke. Sweet, wet gurgles that make Eren groan louder into your cunt. The sound vibrates straight through your clit and you buck harder against his face, smearing yourself all over his mouth, his nose, his chin. He doesn’t care. He just spreads you wider with his thumbs, tongue flicking fast over your clit before sucking it between his lips again, relentlessly.

His own hand slips down, his fingers wrapping around his neglected cock, stroking himself in rough, tight pulls while he devours you. The wet schlick of his fist mixes with the filthy sounds of his mouth on your pussy and Toru’s dick sliding in and out of your throat.

You’re caught perfectly between them: hips grinding desperate on Eren’s tongue, throat stuffed full of Toru’s thick length, drool and slick everywhere. Your moans are muffled and broken, vibrating around him every time Eren licks that perfect spot inside you with his tongue.

Toru’s hips stutter, breath hitching. “Fuck… gonna cum soon if you keep choking on me like that, baby.”

Eren pulls back just enough to growl against your folds, words muffled but clear. “Not yet. She comes first. Then we both fill her up.”

He dives back in, sucking your clit hard, tongue flicking merciless while his fingers dig into your ass, spreading you even wider so he can bury his face deeper.

You’re trembling, thighs quaking, so close it hurts.

Toru fucks your mouth faster. Shallow,  sloppy thrusts that make spit drip down onto Eren’s abs.

Eren strokes himself harder, hips bucking up into his fist like he can’t help it.

They’ve got you right there teetering, dripping, stuffed full and theirs.

Just a little more.

And you’re going to shatter.

It hits you like a wave you can’t outrun.

Eren’s tongue is relentlessly sucking your clit in hard, pulsing pulls while his fingers dig into your hips, holding you down so you can’t escape even if you wanted to. Your thighs lock around his head, whole body seizing as the pressure snaps. You cum hard shaking. Cries muffled around Toru’s cock, hips grinding down messy and desperate onto Eren’s face. Slick floods his mouth; he drinks it up greedily, groaning deep vibrations straight into your core that drag the orgasm out longer, sharper, until you’re sobbing with it.

Your cunt pulses around nothing, clenching on air, dripping down his chin, his neck. He doesn’t stop licking, not even when you’re twitching and oversensitive. Just softer laps now, soothing the raw edges while you shudder through the aftershocks.

Toru’s been fucking your throat steady, but the way you choke and moan around him when you come tips him over. He pulls back suddenly. Only the fat, swollen tip still resting on your tongue and strokes himself faster and rough.

“Fuck ngh open wide, baby,” he pants. “Gonna, fuck- give it to you.”

You do. Tongue out, lips parted, eyes glassy and teary from everything staring up at him. He groans low, hips jerking, and comes thick, rope after hot, heavy rope painting your tongue white. It’s so much it spills a little at the corners of your mouth before you can catch it all. Warm and salty, thick enough that it clings n pools heavy in the center of your tongue.

He milks the last drops out with slow strokes, smearing the tip across your lips like he’s marking you.

“Don’t swallow it yet, pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and soft all at once. “Need to see it first.”

You stay like that, kneeling between them, thighs still trembling from Eren’s mouth, mouth full of Toru’s load. Eren finally eases you up just enough to sit back against the couch arm, pulling you half into his lap so you’re still facing Toru. His hands slide up your sides, possessively, while he watches with dark emerald, hungry eyes.

Toru steps closer. Cups your jaw gently but firm, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where a little escaped.

“Show me,” he says.

You part your lips slowly, careful not to let any spill. Your tongue coated, its thick, pearlescent-white, his cum sitting heavy and pooling in the middle, strings of it connecting to the roof of your mouth when you part wider. It’s obscene. Beautifully yours.

Toru exhales shaky. “Fuck… look at that. All for us.”

He reaches in, two long fingers sliding past your lips, pressing into the warm pool of his own release. He stirs it lazy, coating his fingertips, feeling how thick and sticky it is while you whimper softly around the intrusion. Your eyes flutter, lashes wet.

Then he pulls his fingers out, glistening, dripping, and brings them straight to his own mouth. Sucks them clean and slow, tongue swirling around the digits, tasting himself mixed with the faint sweetness of your spit. His eyes never leave yours, cerulean eyes a hint darker and possessive, like he’s claiming every part of this.

“Sweet,” he murmurs against his fingers. “But not as sweet as you’re gonna taste when we both fill that pretty cunt next.”

Eren’s hand slips between your thighs again, fingers brushing your still-throbbing clit, making you jolt.

“Our turn to mark you inside,” Eren growls low against your ear, nipping the lobe. “Gonna stuff you so full you’ll be leaking us for days.”

You’re still holding Toru’s cum on your tongue, thick, warm and waiting.

Toru leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth softly.

“Now swallow, baby,” he whispers. “Take all of me… then we’ll give you both.”

Your throat works. You swallow slow, feeling it slide down, warm and heavy while they watch like it’s the hottest thing they’ve ever seen.

And when your lips part again, empty now, Eren’s already shifting you, lining himself up.

They’re nowhere near done.

Not even close.

Eren’s hands are already on your hips the second you finish swallowing, rough palms sliding up your sides, guiding you with that same possessive grip he’s always had but never let loose like this. He pulls you forward until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. Your arms loop around his shoulders automatically, fingers digging into the back of his neck, forehead dropping to rest against his as you try to catch your breath.

He’s hard again, thick and flushed, leaking at the tip from stroking himself while he ate you out. The head nudges against your soaked entrance, slicking itself in your arousal without even trying. You whimper at the contact, hips twitching forward on instinct.

“Easy, baby girl,” Eren murmurs, voice low and wrecked. One hand stays clamped on your hip while the other reaches between you, guiding himself right to your opening. “Gonna take me slow and let me feel every inch of this tight little cunt finally wrap around me?”

You nod dumbly and eager, still hazy from coming so hard, and you start to sink down.

The stretch is immediate. Intense. He’s thick enough that your walls flutter and grip around the head the second it pops inside, and you gasp sharply against his mouth. Eren groans like he’s been punched in the gut, head falling back against the couch for a second before he snaps it forward again to watch your face.

“Fuck… look at you,” he breathes. “Taking me so pretty already.”

You keep sinking down slow and carefully, until he’s buried halfway in. Your thighs tremble from the burn of it and that’s when Toru moves.

He’s been right behind you the whole time, silent and patient, stroking himself lazy while he watched. Now he presses in close, chest flush to your back, one arm banding around your waist to hold you steady while his other hand slides down between your spread thighs.

As you take another inch of Eren, Toru shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt right alongside Eren’s cock.

The stretch doubles instantly. Your walls clamp down hard, fluttering wildly around the sudden fullness. You cry out high and broken, head tipping back against Toru’s shoulder.

“Fuck, baby,” Toru whispers hot against your ear, fingers curling deep, pressing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “So tight. So fucking full already and we’re just getting started.”

Eren’s hips jerk up on instinct, pushing deeper while Toru’s fingers thrust in shallow, matching the rhythm. The drag is obscene, Eren’s thick length stretching you open, Toru’s fingers rubbing against him through your walls, slick sounds filling the room every time they move.

“You’ll let me stretch this pretty pussy out too, hm?” Toru murmurs, voice all soft velvet as makes it sounds more like a promise than a threat. He scissors his fingers in slower, spreading you wider around Eren’s cock, making room. “Gonna open you up nice and slow so you can take both of us. Gonna feel so good when I slide in right next to him… gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else.”

You’re shaking between them, overwhelmed and suffed, dripping down Eren’s shaft and Toru’s wrist. Eren’s mouth finds your throat, sucking a fresh bruise while he bottoms out fully, hips flush to yours. The pressure is insane, Eren’s cock throbbing deep inside, Toru’s fingers still working you open, curling and thrusting until you’re clenching so hard it hurts in the best way.

“Goddamn,” Eren growls against your skin. “She’s gripping me like a fucking vice. Keep going, Toru ngh stretch her more. Wanna haah feel you in there with me.”

Toru adds a third finger in slow and carefully and you sob, nails digging into Eren’s shoulders. The burn blooms into heat, into pleasure so sharp it whites out your vision for a second.

“That’s it,” Toru praises, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Such a good girl. Taking us both already. Gonna fuck you together soon… gonna fill you up until you’re leaking us for days.”

Eren starts rocking up into you with shallow thrusts that make his cock drag against Toru’s fingers with every stroke. You’re so full you can barely think, just feel. Just take.

They’ve got you pinned perfectly, in the front and back, cock and fingers, mouths and hands everywhere.

And they’re only warming you up.

Toru’s fingers are still buried deep, three thick digits stretching you wide around Eren’s cock. When he finally starts to pull them out, slow. Every inch drags against your fluttering walls, against the heavy length already filling you, making you whimper and clench harder around Eren.

You’re shaking in Eren’s lap, arms locked around his shoulders, forehead pressed to his as you try to breathe through the overwhelming fullness. Eren’s hands grip your hips like anchors, keeping you seated deep on him while he watches Toru over your shoulder with those emerald, impatient eyes.

Toru’s voice is low against the back of your neck, lips brushing skin. “Gonna replace these fingers now, baby. Gonna slide right in next to him… gonna make this pretty pussy take us both.”

He shifts closer, chest flush to your back again, one hand steadying your waist while the other guides his cock down. The fat, slick head nudges right against your already-stretched entrance, pressing insistently beside Eren’s shaft. You feel the pressure immediately, hot, blunt, and impossible… fuck- it feels impossible and your breath hitches into a soft, panicked whine.

“Shh,” Toru soothes, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “Relax for me. You’ve been so good… you can take it. Just breathe.”

Eren groans low when he feels Toru start to push, feels the thick head crowding in, stretching you further. “Fuck… yeah, push in slow. Let her feel every inch.”

You’re so wet it helps, slick dripping down Eren’s balls, coating Toru’s tip but the stretch is blinding. Toru rocks forward gently at first, just the head breaching you alongside Eren. Your walls burn, fluttering wildly, trying to accommodate the impossible double thickness. A broken sob tears from your throat; your nails dig crescent moons into Eren’s shoulders.

“Too much?” Eren murmurs against your lips, kissing you soft and messy to distract you. “You’re doing so good, baby girl. Look at you, taking two cocks like you were made for it.”

You whine, embarrassed by the fact of his words. Eren soothes you gently, petting your back with slow strokes, shushing you in his arms.

Toru takes that as a sign to sink in deeper, inch by slow, torturous inch, until he’s buried to the hilt right next to Eren. The fullness is obscene: two thick lengths pressed flush together inside you, walls stretched thin and tremble around them. You can feel every vein, every throb, the way they twitch against each other through the thin barrier of your body.

“Goddamn,” Toru breathes, voice wrecked. His forehead drops to your shoulder, hips flush to your ass. “So fucking tight… can feel him right next to me. Feel how full you are, baby?”

You can’t speak… the words are stuck, you just nod frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks from the intensity. Eren starts moving first. Shallow, careful rolls of his hips that make both cocks drag inside you at once. The friction is electric; every slide rubs them together, rubs against that deep spot that makes your vision blur.

Toru matches him after a moment, pulling back slow while Eren pushes in, then switching. They find a rhythm quick: one in, one out, seesawing deep inside you so there’s never a second you’re empty. The drag is relentless, stretching, filling. Utterly overwhelming.

You’re crying now, soft and overwhelmed sobs into Eren’s neck while your hips start rocking back on instinct, chasing more even though you’re already so full it hurts in the sweetest way.

“That’s it,” Eren growls, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. “Ride us, baby. Fuck yourself on both our cocks. Show us how much you love being stuffed like this.”

Toru’s hand slips around to your clit, fingers finding the swollen bud and rubbing tight, fast circles while they keep thrusting. The added stimulation sends sparks up your spine; you clench hard around them both, making them groan in unison.

“Gonna come again?” Toru whispers hot against your ear. “Gonna soak us both? Milk us until we fill this little cunt up?”

Eren’s thrusts get harder, deeper. Hips snapping up to meet yours. “Come on our cocks, pretty girl. Let us feel it. Then we’re gonna pump you so full you’ll be dripping for us so beautifully.”

You’re trembling, teetering, so close again, your body stretched to its limit, clit throbbing under Toru’s fingers, two thick cocks ruining you from the inside out.

They’ve got you pinned, claimed and completely theirs.

And when you shatter this time it’s going to be devastating.

They’re moving in perfect, brutal sync now, Eren thrusting up deep while Toru drives in from behind, cocks sliding against each other inside your stretched, fluttering walls. Every push rubs them together through the thin membrane, friction so intense it makes your eyes roll back. You’re creaming around them. Thick, milky slick coating both shafts, dripping down Eren’s balls and Toru’s thighs with every wet slap of skin on skin.

Your tight walls grip them like a vice, milking desperately as they fuck straight into your cervix, blunt heads battering that deep, sensitive spot over and over. The pressure builds fast, sharp and overwhelming; your tummy bulges visibly with each thrust, the outline of their cocks pressing outward against your lower belly.

Eren notices first. His hand slides down from your hip, palm flattening over the soft swell. He pushes on it firmly, gently and deliberately, right where the bulge is most pronounced.

“Fuck, look at that,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Can feel myself right here… feel how deep we are inside you, baby girl? Stretching her little pussy so wide she’s bulging for us.”

You whimper broken and high, hips jerking between them. The pressure of his palm combined with the relentless pounding sends sparks shooting up your spine. Toru’s hand joins, fingers splaying beside Eren’s, both of them pressing down in tandem as they thrust harder, deeper.

“Gonna make you come like this,” Toru murmurs hot against your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Gonna feel you cream all over both our cocks while we kiss your cervix, hm baby want us deep in there?.”

You bite your lip, and it hits you suddenly and violent.

Your whole body locks up, back arching, thighs quaking, a raw sob tearing from your throat as you come harder than before. Walls spasm wildly around them, clenching so tight it drags broken groans from both their throats. Slick gushes out in messy pulses, soaking their cocks, dripping down in thick rivulets. Your vision whites out for a second; you’re shaking, crying, completely lost in the overwhelming fullness and the way Eren’s palm keeps pushing on that bulge, making every pulse of your orgasm feel deeper, sharper.

They don’t stop, can’t stop. They bury themselves to the hilt in one final, synchronized thrust, Eren’s hips snapping up, Toru slamming forward until there’s no space left inside you. You feel them throb, swell, and then they’re coming hard.

Hot, thick spurts flood you at the same time, Eren's cock pulsing deep against your cervix while Toru unloads right beside him, ropes of cum mixing, filling every inch until you’re overflowing. The pressure is insane; your walls flutter helplessly around the double load, trying to take it all but failing beautifully.

Toru pulls back just enough, barely an inch while staying buried deep. His free hand slides down between your thighs, thumb hooking one swollen lip and spreading you open wide. The sight is filthy: your pussy stretched obscenely around both cocks, creamy white cum already leaking out in a fat, slow spurt. It slips from between their shafts thick and pearly dripping down Toru’s length in a heavy trail, coating his balls, pooling on Eren’s thighs beneath you.

“Fuck… look at her leaking us,” Toru breathes, thumb rubbing slow circles through the mess, spreading it over your clit. “So full she can’t even keep it all inside.”

Eren groans low, hips twitching with aftershocks as another small spurt escapes him. His palm stays pressed to your tummy, feeling the faint throb of their cocks still buried deep.

“You’re ours now,” he rasps, kissing your sweaty temple. “This pussy’s marked. Stuffed. Leaking both of us.”

You’re trembling between them overstimulated, full to bursting, cum dripping slow and steady down your thighs. They don’t pull out. Not yet.

They just hold you there, cocks softening slightly but still thick inside, keeping every drop plugged deep while their hands roam lazy over your body.

Claimed.

Ruined.

Theirs.

The room feels heavier now, thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and the faint salt of cum. You’re still straddling Eren’s lap, thighs quivering, body limp and boneless between them. Their cocks are softening inside you, but neither has pulled out yet, just resting there, keeping you plugged full, every tiny shift making a fresh trickle of their mixed release slip out.

Toru moves first.

He eases back slow and carefull, so so gentle, until his cock finally slips free with a wet, obscene sound. A thick gush of cum follows immediately, spilling from your stretched hole, running hot down your inner thighs and dripping onto Eren’s lap. You whimper at the sudden emptiness, walls fluttering around Eren’s length like they’re trying to pull him deeper to compensate.

Toru doesn’t go far.

He leans in close behind you again, chest pressed to your back, arms wrapping around your waist in a loose, possessive hold. His lips find the side of your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses. Trailing up the curve where he’d bitten earlier. Gentle now. Soothing. Each press of his mouth feels like an apology and a promise at once.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and wrecked. “Took us both so perfect. Look at you… all messy and full of us.” Another kiss, slower, right under your ear. His tongue flicks out to taste the salt there. “Gonna take care of you now. Promise.”

His hands slide up your sides, warm palms smoothing over ribs, petting you like you’re something fragile and precious. One hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the base of your skull while he keeps kissing your throat, your jaw, the soft spot behind your ear.

Eren’s still buried inside you, half-hard, twitching lazily every time your walls flutter. He shifts just enough to sit up straighter, pulling you flush against his chest so your breasts press to him. His mouth finds yours immediately, a slow, deep kiss that tastes like your own slick and his tongue. Lazy. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring every second now that the frantic edge is gone.

One hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb circling the nipple soft and unhurried, teasing it back to a stiff peak. He pinches gently, rolls it between his fingers, then soothes with the flat of his palm. The other hand stays low, splayed over your lower belly where the bulge has softened but you can still feel the faint throb of him inside.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he mutters against your lips, kissing you again, messy and open-mouthed, tongue sliding slow against yours. “All flushed and leaking us. Our pretty girl.”

He keeps playing with your tits, kneading one while he kisses you deeper, then switching to the other, thumb flicking the nipple until you arch into his touch with a soft whine. Every tug sends little aftershocks through your oversensitive body; your cunt clenches weakly around him, milking another small bead of cum that drips out around his base.

Toru’s mouth never leaves your neck, kissing and sucking soft bruises into fresh skin, whispering praise between each press of his lips.

“So sweet… so fucking perfect… ours, baby. All ours.”

Eren breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur against your mouth, “Gonna stay like this a while. Keep you full. Keep you warm.”

His fingers keep teasing your nipple with gentle pinches and slow circles, while Toru’s hands roam your sides, your back, your hips. They’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, soft touches and warm mouths, their low voices rumbling praise into your skin.

You’re boneless between them, head lolling back against Toru’s shoulder, lips parted on shaky breaths, body humming with the quiet afterglow.

They don’t rush.

They just hold you.

Kiss you.

Pet you.

Like they’ve got all night.

Like they’ve finally got what they’ve wanted for so long.

And they’re never letting go.

─── ISAGI YOICHI brought the idea up, he had heard some of his teammates talking about it in the locker rooms after practice. so he brought it up with you, thinking it would be a nice challenge for the both of you. boy, did he think wrong.

↳ FIRST WEEK :

isagi’s plan for this whole thing? he’s gonna be productive! he will spend more time on football! he will win this challenge and you’ll give him a reward for it! he’s going to flex to rin about this! he’s going to be the better—yeah, you get it. 

isagi was going through it. the five stages of dickpression. and you did not make it easy for him, you walked around the house in those stupidly slutty shorts which hugged all your curves just right and how did you expect isagi to not salivate like a rabid dog at that? 

everytime you walked past him his puppy dog eyes would follow you like he was trailing after your scent. but it’s just the first week! gosh, man up isagi! you need to push through! — isagi would chant to himself like a mantra, well, it’s working so far..?

 “you do this on purpose, right?” isagi whispered against your skin, he was spooning you from behind. his arms wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you from moving and messing up his 5 days of sheer will. 

“mm? do what, pretty boy?” you giggled, a sweet sound but it only set isagi’s skin on fire. he snuffed the feeling out but his grip on your waist tightened, his hand moved to slip his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts. 

“wearing this—you know what we’re doing..right?” isagi sucked in rather harshly, struggling to hold the reins of his libido. “yeahh. does it make you wanna’ lose, yoichi?” you cooed teasingly, isagi’s left nut twitched and he went blind in his right leg. you were seriously going to be the end of him.

↳ SECOND WEEK :

isagi is gnawing at the walls. he physically cannot stay in the same room as you without wanting to chew your clothes off. he is buzzing with pent up energy, and it’s worse every single time he comes home from practice because the adrenaline rushes straight south.

and of course, you just HAVE to step your own game up. if the shorts were the death of him, this silky lingerie you wear to bed will drag him to hell on all fours and he would gladly go. 

how does he cope? well, showers are more his personal edging sessions now. every night before bed, he rubs himself off under the shower head. fuck, he bites into his arm and tears up trying to hold himself back. he knows nobody would know if he were to just bust a load in the shower drain but he is an honest, sweet (not so much) boy. he can’t just lie! 

but he has been doing a good job, so far. yeah! he’s going to make it, right? please tell him he’s going to make it. he’s so close to crying.

 it was late into the night but isagi couldn’t sleep no matter what he did. he had switched sides of his pillow almost ten times now and was just tossing and turning around on the bed now. yet nothing worked.

really, how could it work? how could anyone expect him to sleep when you’re sleeping so soundly beside him, so peaceful and pretty. fuck, he almost feels bad for what he is about to do.

he tugs the covers off your soft body gently, his hungry gaze drinking in every inch of your exposed skin through the lingerie you’ve begun wearing to bed. he runs a hand over your bare thighs, feeling goosebumps rise on your sensitive skin and making you squirm.

gosh, you were adorable. 

he reached into his sleep shorts with his other hand and fished out his hard, throbbing cock. his engorged tip leaking precum dripping onto the sheets. he stroked it a couple of times before his hand which was on your thigh gripped onto the supple flesh and spread your thighs to slot his aching length between those beautiful thighs.

isagi muffled a groan into his palm, your thighs felt so beautiful wrapped around him. he needed this, he had been pent up for so long.

this doesn’t count as cheating right? not if he doesn’t cum. so he begins thrusting his cock in and out of the tiny gap between your thighs and clothed pussy. the tip of his cock catching onto your clit through the fabric of your panties which sent an involuntary shiver down his body. 

shit, he felt like a virgin.

↳ THIRD WEEK :

lol, what third week? 

“ah—shit, i missed this—! fuck—i missed you!” isagi grunted in-between thrusts, his chest pressed against your back and his nails dug crescents into the supple skin of your hips as he held you flush to him. his cock drove in and out of you in a bed-breaking pace. his breath came out in hot puffs against your cheek.

“a‐aah! yoichi! slow—” you whined, your eyes rolled back. your boyfriend was so impossibly deep inside of you, it actually made no sense. you felt him raise your leg up to spread you open for him, even more. his cock hit at a new angle now, his tip kissing your swollen g-spot with each single snap of his hips. 

“slow? you—fuckin’—want slow?” isagi growled in your ear, his hips now slowing down so he could pound you slower but more fuller. “after teasing me—for so. damn. long? shut up and take it.” isagi huffed, each thrust of him made sure every inch of his cock was buried snug inside of you, and when he pulled out, you could feel the same inches drag against your warm insides. 

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

well, of course, he lost. like a sore loser. but the loss felt better than the win.

record: 19 days. clap for him.

“soo, same time next november?” you wiggled your eyebrows cheekily at isagi who was giving you the nastiest side eye. he turned over on the bed, his back facing you. “shut up.” he sighed, rolling his eyes. he wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at himself for losing. but gosh did his balls feel lighter. 

you just laughed and began spooning isagi from behind, best november ever.

─── BACHIRA MEGURU saw the thing on tiktok, late at night at exactly 4:03 am on november 1st. you were sleeping soundly beside him, he looked over at you and grinned wide and devilishly. the cogs in his mind cranked and something was cooking up in that factory. 

↳ FIRST WEEK :

bachira’s plan for this whole thing is to make it unbearable for you. he knows you’re absolutely whipped for him, and would cave if he just whispered a soft little ‘please :(’. so why not use it to his advantage?

he introduced you to the challenge, saying it would be fun! and it would strengthen the bond. tch, he just wanted to fuck with you a little. regardless, you agreed once he pouted all sweetly. how could you say no to that?

the first week was a breeze, bachira was being his usual self save for some heated glances, fleeting touches and whispered promises of filth. hey, you had spent enooouuggh time with bachira to be able to resist him. right?

you were cooking dinner in the kitchen when bachira crewed up behind you and pressed his chest to your back, resting his chin on your head. “heyy cutie. whatcha’ making?” bachira giggled, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head trying to distract you from his hips which were subtly rocking up into you. 

“megu’ stop humping me.” you sighed like a disappointed mother, shaking your head. you could feel bachira pout behind you and bury his nose into your hair to inhale the scent of your shampoo. “mm—ugh, i thought you would crack by noooww!” bachira whined, stomping his feet softly. 

 you picked up the ladle you were using to stir the curry and scooped a tiny bit of the food before holding it up to bachira’s lips. “taste it.” bachira huffed indignantly but still opened his mouth to taste the food. “mm. yum.” he smacked his lips while eating, same way his hips were still smacking yours. 

“can you stop dryhumping me now?” you clicked your tongue, bachira tightened his grip on you even more. “no.” he stuck his tongue out. fairs.

↳ SECOND WEEK :

at this point, bachira was confused. he was trying EVERYTHING. he had humped you through your clothes in the morning in bed, he had grinded against you like a stripper with a pole during the afternoons and now he’s quite literally roaming around the house in just his boxers and you still haven’t lost your mind over him? he feels offended. so, SO offended.

he lays beside you wherever you are sat. on the couch? he’s draping himself over the loveseat with am arm on his forehead like he’s a damsel in distress. on the bed? he’s laying beside you on his side, posed all tantalizingly like he’s asking you to paint him like one of your french girls. unfortunately, he just looks awkward flopping around like a fish in just his underwear but A for effort!

bachira was sprawled across your sheets like a starfish, his boxers stretched taut over his legs and his bulge just shy of peeking out. you worked beside him on your laptop, pushing your reading glasses further up your nose you finally decided to spare him just a shard of your attention.

 “meguru? can you put on some clothes?” you perked up without even glancing at him. yet that was enough for bachira to resume his embarassing attempt at appearing seductive. “am i bothering youu? heh, come do something about it then.” he purred, arching his back off the bed. your grip on your laptop tightened, your nonchalant facade slowly tearing at the sides. would you really make it through this month?

“no thank you. i’m quite busy.” you quipped back and it hit bachira like a punch square to his face. his teasing smirk broke and he looked baffled, how were you still holding up! 

↳ THIRD WEEK :

bachira was getting desperate. at this point he had begun to sleep naked next to you in hopes you would atleast look at him with those beautiful eyes :((!! but you always slept with your back turned to him. you were making this hard for him! it’s supposed to be the other way around!

and it’s not even fair you look so pretty, glowing and pure and bachira is just so pent-up and needy. he’s so close to just getting on all fours and barking for you so you could give him a scrap of your attention. 

he’s whining like a damn dog who got denied his favourite treat, which is you. how can you be so mean to him!

“baby—baby—please—” bachira whined, throwing a leg over your waist to grind harder against your butt. he was dry humping you when you both were supposed to be sleeping but he is just so needy. needy for you.

“just give in! i won’t even rub it in your face—fuck—let me have you..” bachira nuzzled into your neck, his cock was rapidly hardening and you could feel it press against the cleft of your ass. his grip on your hips tightened impossibly to hold you flush to him.

“meguru, i have work tommorow. go to bed—” you tried complaining but you couldn’t resist either, the sound of your boyfriend whimpering so wantonly in your ear. the heat emitting from his body, it was all so much. with a grunt you reached back to wrap your hand around his cock. bachira gasped, eyes rolling back at the warmth of your hand engulfing him.

“hngh—yeah, stroke me—fuuckk—” bachira babbled, bucking his hips up to fuck your fist. his precum leaked over your fist, his engorged tip twitching like crazy. as bachira’s lustful frenzy reached a fervor pitch you pulled your hand away, tearing your warmth from him and he whined so pitifully it made your heart ache.

“why—!” bachira whined, curling into you even more. “uh-uh, gotta’ win this, babyboy.” you shushed him with your finger, you smirked so evilly. bachira was quiet, you looked so hot.

↳ FOURTH WEEK :

bachira couldn’t hold it in anymore. but luckily you worked overtime alot this week so bachira couldn’t pounce on you and fuck you seven days till sunday. it was all so unfair! 

he was so pent-up he grinded against the pillow you slept on, rubbing his aching length on the plush surface. he was sniffing like an animal, reveling in the scent of you. 

on 30th november, at exactly 12:00 am you had came back home after a long tiring day of work fully expecting to greet your boyfriend and maybe reward him for getting through the whole month without sex. you ascended the stairs and opened the door to the bedroom you shared with him and oh, oh.

bachira was humping the pillow—your pillow—like a mad animal, whimpering your name. what a bad boy. and he wasn’t even the least bit ashamed that you caught him.

“dirty, dirty boy.” you clicked your tongue, tugging harshly on the leash you had planted on his neck. bachira panted, totally committing to the act of being a disobedient puppy, your puppy.

 “mm—did ‘ya really expect me to not? you just—” bachira sniffed your inner thigh, eyes half-lidded. “smell sooo good and—” bachira buried his face in your crotch, licking over your dampening slit through the fabric of your panties. “taste even better..” bachira groaned low in his throat but he winced when you tugged the leash harder and reeled him away. 

“you gotta earn it, baby.” you tutted, your grip firm on the leash. bachira looked up, a shaky smirk playing at his lips. his cock already hardening at how you were bossing him around.

“anyway you want..! i’ll do anything..” bachira panted, moving to hump your ankle. his tip leaving dirty streaks of precum all over your calve. “anything at all..”

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

winnerrr!!! and he’s nutting all over the place, he deserves it!

record: 30 full days!!!!

you were completely soaked in bachira’s cum, he really came like a broken faucet, poor baby must’ve been holding back a ton! bachira was half-asleep spooning you naked with a dopey grin on his face. perfectly sated and full of love for you. 

  “heh—loovee youu..” bachira slurred out sleepily, adding a yawn at the end. he nuzzled into your neck, mouthing at the skin there. you sighed but smiled softly, reaching to gently pet his cheek. “love you too, meguru.”

─── ITOSHI RIN didn’t want to do the challenge at first. he had heard about it in the past, through his teammates but once he heard isagi muttering something about it to hiori. rin settled on doing the challenge, and winning. he was better than that shitty isagi.

↳ FIRST WEEK :

he powered through the first week on absolute determination and sheer will. he barely batted an eye at you and completely plunged himself into football and working out, anything to snuff out that screaming feeling of getting his dick wet.

he tried his best to act normal around you too, and to be honest? he was doing a pretty good job at it! atleast he thought so. little did he know he looked like a wet chihuahua growling at you everytime you came near like it was YOUR fault he took up this challenge.

“stop doing that.” rin growled low in his throat when you walked by him when he was working out in the private gym you guys have in your home—yes, fancy. 

“stop doing what?” you batted your lashes down at rin who was in-between a plank session. his abdomen was clenching so deliciously, all of his six or seven packs were stretched taut and damn—he just looked edible enough to eat. sadly, you couldn’t.

rin peered up at you over his shoulder, this angle from the floor gave him view to everything you had under your skirt. and truth be told, you had nothing underneath. just your bare cunny which was absolutely destroying rin’s mental. he had to tear his eyes away, he couldn’t lose. not when bragging rights against dumb yoichi were at stake.

“just—just go.” rin panted, looking ahead of himself. you just shrugged and walked out of the gym, but you felt rin’s gaze devouring every deliberate sway of your hips.

↳ SECOND WEEK :

second week was sliiigghtlyy better. rin had an upcoming match and he trained day and night for it, though it was just a simple friendly match against argentina, anything would work, anything which would get his mind off you. 

his teammates noticed too, he was working himself out. it’s not new, of course, but this time they feel like something else is motivating him other than the match at hand. even bachira, who is normally lost in his own different world notices it. aiku says he must be having girlfriend problems, well he is sort of correct!

though it didn’t exactly stop him from opening that secret password protected folder in his gallery, one which stored all the videos he has taken of you during sex. of both of you during sex.

and what would he do while watching them? literally what any normal man with a hot as shit girlfriend would do. jack off, duh. 

“hnngh—! shit—so fuckin’ tight..” rin snarled low in his throat, he had one hand wrapped tightly around his length while one was holding his phone. he had a particularly long home video playing on full blast, your moans combined with his echoing in the empty shower stall. rin was standing directly under the stream, but it did nothing to cool his heating body. 

rin choked his cock in his fist as he bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. fuck, he was trying his best to stay quiet but it was getting so hard. he swiped at the precum beading on his tip, leaking precum didn’t count as losing the challenge right? riiightt?? 

outside the shower, karasu and otoya had stayed back to shower after everyone was done. they didn’t expect rin to be beating his meat, in public, in the locker rooms. 

“how long do you think he’ll last?” karasu poked otoya’s shoulder. “ehh—give it a few days.” otoya shrugged and walked ahead. 

↳ THIRD WEEK :

match is over. they’re all on break. but rin is breaking here. home used to be his safe place where he could cuddle with you, maybe watch something or you know just spend some quality time with you. BUT NO.

this stupid no nut november challenge and this stupid isagi for bringing it up and TEMPTING rin to do the challenge like it was  a personal blow to his ego. nobody actually tempted him, rin just has some personal feelings towards isagi. 

rin is scared to even touch you, scared he would immediately nut in his pants like a virgin. that would be generational aura loss and he wouldn’t hear the end of it from you. so he ignores you like you did something to offend him. 

you kinda did piss him off by being so gorgeous and beautiful and sexy and—

“rin, do you want something from the store? i’m gonna get groceries.” you called out from the front door where you were slipping on your uggs to go outside. rin stared at your back from his spot on the couch, his fingers digging into the meat of his thigh.

“rin?” you called out again, turning to look at him once you noticed he wasn’t responding. rin’s eyes were glazed over, running up and over your body like he was undressing you with his smoldering gaze. you waved your hand infront of his face and he finally seemed to snap out of it.

“huh? oh—yeah, just, get whatever. i don’t care.” rin crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. what a fake idgafer, he definitely cared.

↳ FOURTH WEEK :

every day felt like a new hurdle for rin. every time he woke up in the bed he immediately picked up his phone and checked the date. november 27th?? he closed his eyes and felt a singular tear run down his cheek as he pondered about if taking up this challenge was even worth it. 

but then, the clock hit 12 on november 30th and it was all free game. rin had his eyes peeled on the clock in the living room while you were in the kitchen washing up after dinner. 

rin stalked over towards you with a predator’s grace. the air in the kitchen went cold, you turned around whilst drying your hands off on a towel and were immediately met with rin pinning you against the counter with a growl. 

well, shit.

“fuckin’ hell—’ya really fucked me over with this—shit—challenge..” rin panted in your ear, his thrusts pushing you further up the counter until your back hit the tiled walls of the kitchen. your legs wrapped tightly around rin’s waist for leverage and to hold yourself down unless you wanted your soul to ascend to god because damn—rin was not holding back.

“riiinn—slowerrr—hngh!” you whined sweetly but rin didn’t take it. “none of that.” rin growled, slapping your ass and then kneading the reddening flesh with his large palm. “y’re gonna take it like a good girl. so stop whining.” rin demanded with a cold finality in his tone which made all your protests turn to helpless little whines.

rin pulled out until just the head of his cock remained inside of you, he kept fucking you with the tip until you got impatient enough to claw at his back. “rin! ungh—put it backkk!” you huffed, all bratty. and who was rin to deny you when you begged so sweetly? he rammed back into you which knocked all the air out your lungs and all the sense out your brain.

 gosh, you loved it when your rinnie got all rough.

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

of course he won! did you really think he wouldn’t?

record: he cracked at exactly 12 am! 30 whole days!

rin was massaging your sore thighs as you both cuddled in bed, with his other hand he was on his phone typing something. “rin? who are you texting?” you perked up, trying to peek into his phone. “isagi.” rin shrugged and showed you his screen, he was texting isagi about how he won nnn. isagi replied with how he wasn’t even doing the challenge in the first place, rin read the text and tossed his phone away with a deep, guttural groan. 

fuck november.

─── ITOSHI SAE who was equipped for this challenge on a daily. amidst flying out for matches every week or so, november had become practically every month for mister blue balled—you were sure they actually looked blue from how pent-up he was. that said, he was the one making this hard for you.

↳ FIRST WEEK :

he only came home on 4th of november and as soon as you opened the door to him, he brushed past you. he was wearing that cologne you mentioned you really liked in passing yet you never thought he would wear it considering he doesn’t like anything fruity yet here he was completely drowning in scent and smelled exactly like an acai bowl. 

you had to press your thighs together to keep from pouncing on your boyfriend when he was still in his outside clothes. 

and this man had the audacity to take his clothes off in the living room. all his back muscles flexing, was he doing this on purpose?

“sae.” you called out from the bed, sae was changing into his sleep clothes. “mm?” he perked up, blinking at you. his bangs were down, his hair not gelled for once. he looked absolutely adorable, and adorably yours. 

you sucked in a breath and forced yourself to look away, “nothing.” you cuddled into the sheets, trying to hide yourself in them. sae seemed to notice what was going on, he crawled onto the bed, over you. pinning you. 

he peered down at you, he looked so gorgeous. he leaned forward until his whole face was shoved in yours, “is it really nothing?” he breathed out, his hot breath was fanning directly over your face. and you swore you could fuck this challenge right there.

but sae broke the contact as soon as it came, he parted with a chaste kiss pressed to your plush lips and he fell over to the side. scooting over to his side of the bed, he pulled the covers over himself and reached to turn off the lights. “good night.” he whispered and closed his eyes shut.

did the blue balled just blue ball you? 

↳ SECOND WEEK :

second week was just a normal week. for sae. you were spending every living moment trying to keep from losing your shit and embarrassingly failing to do so. how could you! sae was just strutting around the house like he knew he was making your life a living hell with every breath of his. 

he looked well-rested, well-fed and beautiful. you loved when he looked like this, he looked prettier and healthier, much better than how he looked on the pitch. well, he looked hot any way.

and it didn’t make it any better he was being gentle with you, gentler than usual. for example, he held onto your waist and pressed you close whenever you want to stand beside him. in the bed, he spoons you from behind protectively and possesively. and he kisses your neck, your whole body goes weak.

“come closer. why are you avoiding me?” sae grabs your wrist to pull you closer to him. it was movie night and usually you two would be snuggled up all cozy under the sheets but you were avoiding him. sae knew why, but he pretended to be clueless and that only pissed you off more. because how were you going to tell him you wanted him to fuck you silly?

either way, you shifted closer until your thighs touched. you flinched at that, the feel of his larger thigh pressed against your smaller one, you could barely keep your gaze from trailing southwards to the visible bulge in his sweatpants. this wasn’t supposed to turn you on, but c’mon, you were a woman parched of your boyfriend. you would take anything you could get.

sae noticed your gaze and his lips quirked into the littlest smirk, imperceptible but there. sae wordlessly grabbed your wrist and pressed it against his bulge, your fingers twitched and you gasped. “s-sae—!” you tried taking your wrist away but sae held it firmly to his bulge, making you palm him through his sweats. 

“it’s all yours, princess. have it.” sae whispered, his grip on your wrist tightened. “you want it? then you take it. as simple as that.” sae laid his other arm around your waist and dragged you onto his lap, he gripped your waist with both hands and rubbed your love handles with his thumbs. “i don’t care about this stupid—november thing. if you won’t have me, i’ll have you.” sae shrugged, his hand traveled up your side to cup your cherubim cheek.

“what will it be?” sae asked, his green eyes boring into yours intensely. and, truthfully, would you be able to resist?

no. and that’s exactly what happened. 

sae had you folded up into a mean mating press, his cock drilling itself inside of you over and over again until you were gasping and crying, clawing at his abs for him to slow down. “sae—sae—sae—!!!!” you babbled and cried his name, it was nothing but music to his ears. his hand wrapped around your throat to shut you up, you squirmed around. 

“shut—shut up..take it..” sae growled out in-between thrusts. craning his neck forwards to bite into your neck, you whined even louder at that. sae threw your leg over his shoulder and he drove impossibly deep into you, his tip smashing against your g-spot again. and again. and again. until you came gushing over his length, but sae still hadn’t cum yet. 

“again. i’m not done.” sae demanded, biting into your thigh.

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

yeah, lost. he didn’t wanna do this anyway smh.

record: 10 days. hey!!! his birthday!!!!

“thank you..” sae whispered, it almost missed your ear. he was wiping you down with a warm towel after drilling you into the mattress. “huh—?” you perked up weakly. sae felt a faint blush color his cheek, he glanced away. 

“i didn’t want to waste my holiday, we already get such little time together. thanks for letting me—you know.” sae bunched the towel in his fist and tossed it away before crawling over you, pinning you beneath him. you gazed up at him like a lost fawn and he pursed his lips, cupping your cheek and pressing kisses all over your face. “love you.” he muttered against your skin in-between kisses.

“love you too.” you giggled.

─── MIKAGE REO who was the one to bring this challenge up. he knew about this, of course, but he didn’t understand why people did it. willingly practice abstinence? must be a joke. reo indulged, thats what he did. regardless, he still took up the challenge. little did he know, how hard it would be.

↳ FIRST WEEK :

first week barely registered into reo’s brain. you know first week was always the easiest, atleast thats what reo thought. he managed to hold off quite well! some might even think he would win this. even you were surprised because how would this man—who has probably the highest sex drive you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing—manage to ignore you for a whole month?

except he was doing that, he really was. but was he succeeding? so far, yes.

“hey baby.” reo pulled you in by the waist and planted a sweet kiss to your cheek. you smiled and returned it back. reo had just come back from work and he looked sooo fuckin’ hot in his work clothes. 

“gonna go take a shower, you comin’?” reo asked while loosening his tie with one very veiny hand. fuck, fuckk, how much you wanted to bite that hand of his. you had to disagree with him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it so you just solemnly shook your head. 

reo pouted but his lips soon curled into a smirk once he realized what you were doing. “oh, november?” reo checked the calendar then faced you again. “suit yourself.” he shrugged, so nonchalantly then began unbuttoning his shirt. you had to tear your eyes away, with much struggle. 

were all rich boys this annoying? 

↳ SECOND WEEK :

this was not easy. no, fuck this month, fuck this, fuck everything, fuck you—he wishes he could. BUT DANG IT ALL. he is going to shrivel up and die if he doesn’t get to fuck you now, and he means it. now. just the tip then—? or maybe just—MAN. GIVE HIM SOMETHING TO GO OFF OF.

in-between business meetings, interviews, appearances. he barely finds time anymore to be with you, he guesses thats good. but he just misses you sooo much. he’s someone who thrives on constant physical connection so this is really at odds with what he is actually supposed to do this month which is the exact opposite. he’s dying inside, his colleagues aren’t using all of their braincells, the management is in shambles and worst of all—he has, events to appear to. with you. as his spouse.

so he has to bear with seeing you in that sexy little outfit and not rip it off you as soon as you both come home drunk on wine and eachother.

“babeee—yer’ kinda killin’ me here..” reo whispered in your ear, his hand rested firmly on your inner thigh under the table. all around you, important people from all over the globe sat oblivious to what ministrations reo was performing on your thigh. 

“reoo..not here—” you were cut off by a small gasp escaping your lips, reo’s fingers had slid your panties to the side and were ghosting over your slick folds. “a-ah—” you barely held in the noises escaping you. your grip on the table tightening, trying your best to seem composed. the last thing you wanted to do was embarass yourself and reo infront of such big businessmen and women.

however reo was not at all fazed by the company, if he wanted to, he could bend you over the table right now and make everyone watch. but he wouldn’t, he wasn’t an animal. not yet..

“what is it, hm?” reo plunged one finger into your sopping entrance, your body tensed up and your hips bucked into his palm instinctively. you tried forming a response but reo slipped in another finger alongside the first. “cat got your tongue?” reo smirked, his fingers fucking into you in a rhythmic pattern. 

you tried to be quiet, to be good. but reo was so mean, the people sitting around you seemed to catch on, giving you both weird looks. reo noticed it and he just curled his fingers inside you, pressing them against that spot inside of you which made you see stars. 

“don’t think about them, babe. smile for the camera.” reo pointed towards a cameraman approaching for a picture and he flashed that beautiful, charming grin. you gave a shaky smile, barely reaching your eyes. 

reo was kind enough to pull out right after and not make you ruin your dress. gosh, you should’ve returned this mikage boy to his parents. especially when he sucked his fingers clean and winked at you like that. 

but november was still very much going on. and neither of you had nutted. 

↳ THIRD WEEK :

okay. reo should not have played around that night, he did NOT expect you to bite back at him this hard. okay, where should he start from—

FIRST OF ALL. you’ve begun spoiling him, not with material things of course—he has alot of that already—but in love and affection. and he is so starved, especially because of you know what month. he just takes it like a good boy. he feels rotten for hogging all of your attention but when you’re just lavishing it all on him like that how could he say no? indulging is what he does.

SECCOOONNDDD. possibly the most meanest thing you have done, you’ve started to use his card. you know, that black amex card he just slipped into your wallet one morning and blew a teasing kiss at you. but you never spent a single penny from it, WHY!?!?@ do you not like him? do you not want him???!? 

you had reassured him, telling him you saw him as more than just a piggy bank and that you would use it one day. that day was today. gosh, reo loved it when you spent his money. it was all yours after all, all of him was yours. 

he watches (insert lego batman gif) as you come home with loads of bags with stuff you bought using that very card. definitely spent well over a million yen but why would reo care? he pops a boner everytime you spoil yourself with his cash.

“reo, how does this look?” you turned around infront of a mirror, clad in something silky and skimpy yet it hugged your body so perfectly. accentuating every curve and contour of your beautiful form. reo was salivating like a dog.

“woah..” reo gawked, eyes nearly popping out of his head. you looked like a wet dream—something which he was having quite regularly nowadays. “y-you—look—fuck..” reo stammered, nothing forming in that smart brain of his.

“bad? yeah—i should take it o—” you were interrupted by reo sinking to his knees infront of you, “no! no—nuh uh. you look absolutely gorgeous. beautiful. prettystunningsweetyummydeliciousiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou—” his rambling was interrupted by a sweet giggle from you. oh he was falling all over again.

“reo, get up.” you laughed, but reo did not get up. he buried his face in your stomach, inhaling your scent. his hands wrapping around your waist tightly to keep you still, he nosed against your inner thigh like a puppy, gazing up at you from under his lashes. 

“no.” you knew what his intentions were, you couldn’t fail nnn when you had come so far already. he looked absolutely heartbroken and destroyed. how could you! he stood up and dusted himself off, casting you with a look which spoke volumes about the betrayal you had just caused on him. and he returned back to his seat with a flip of his hair.

↳ FOURTH WEEK :

yea reo had been praying for this week to end as soon as it had come. he remembers checking his phone and doing that guy breaking his chains pose. and you awoke beside him and gave him the nastiest side-eye, reo immediately shriveled up in embarrassment.

reo was buzzing on energy the whole week, like he was on something, he definitely was. because all that energy built up to this very moment—

it was night, you were getting ready for bed but you purposefully wore that purple silk robe you knew reo was a goner for. and of course, paired with nothing underneath, you were sure to get your insides rearranged. 

the shower abruptly stopped and after hearing a rustling inside of the bathroom—probably reo messing with the towel—the door opened and from the steam stepped out a very drenched and very sexy reo. 

with just a towel wrapped around his slender waist and his whole top-half bare, water running down his drenched purple locks, he looked like a vision which immediately got you biting your lip. reo approached you and cupped your cheek, smirking. “it’s time.”— okay, horny mariah carey.

and time it was, because reo had you folded up in missionary, his hand cupping your face and another hand rubbing circles on your clit. “you feel it yeah? how much i—fuckin’—need you.” reo panted in your ear, his thumb swiping at the drool seeping from your lips. 

each snap of his hips into you shook the whole bed, his cock a blur of absolute speed as he messed up your insides. the robe you had slipped on earlier lay in tatters on the floor. 

but you couldn’t care less, not when your husband fucked you so messy and so good. reo gripped your face harder and forced you to look up at the mirror installed in the ceiling overlooking the bed, “see how dumb you look? gushing all over m’ cock like a little slut.” reo drawled, his hand dropping from your chin to wrap around your throat, choking you softly.

“mmh—! reoo—more—!” you babbled mindlessly, eyes crossed up. “can’t even speak huh? right, all stupid. not a single thought in that brain of yours.” reo chuckled, his hips now slowing down to a languid pace, rolling into you to stir up your already full insides. every roll of his hips made you leak around his cock, so dirty.

“fuckk—keep leakin’ like that and i‘ll go crazy..” reo leaned forward to bury his face in your neck, sucking a dark hickey on your sensitive flesh. 

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

another winner!! woohoo!!

record: 30 days aayyyeee 

“we’re never doing this again. this whole..november thing.” reo muttered against your skin as he spooned you from behind. the early morning rays creeped in through the curtains and got in your eyes, making you squint and groan. “uh-oh.” reo laughed, covering your eyes with his palm, but it covered your whole face.

“little baby can’t handle a little sun?” reo mocked you in a baby-ish voice and you grabbed a pillow to whack him in the face. “shut up!” you pouted and reo only laughed, grabbing your waist and flipping you over so he was on top of you. 

he leaned forwards to nuzzle his nose with yours. “don’t pout, you’re making me wanna kiss you.” reo confessed, pressing a kiss to your jaw. you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him up to look at you. “then kiss me.” you dared. 

and kiss you he did.

─── NAGI SEISHIRO found out about this challenge from reo. he was not doing this bro. he noped out on the first day itself.

↳ FIRST WEEK :

lol shut up what first week he barely made it through the first day

“haah—mm—’s so good..’yer so good..” nagi panted, his large hand tangled in your hair to push your head down on his cock. he heard your throat muscles contract and choke around his length and he bucked his hips up.

“can’t believe i was plannin’ on stayin’ away from this sweet throat all monthh.” nagi leaned back in his gaming chair and you popped his cock out of your mouth. nagi shivered softly, feeling the cold air of his room hit against his sensitive cock. you gasped for air before gathering saliva in your mouth and spitting down on nagi’s tip and spreading it around nagi’s length.

“good thing you didn’t, sei’.” you giggled, taking nagi’s cock back into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down on it. nagi was big in all the right ways and no matter how much you hollowed your mouth out, you never seemed to fit him in completely. 

it poked your cheek and made it bulge, your lips were swollen and flushed from sucking on his dick. you dipped your head and deepthroated his big dick, fuck, it was so meaty and veiny. you could feel each of his veins pulse against the inner walls of your throat as you massaged his length with your throat.

nagi tugged you off his cock by your hair and began fishing his cock. he aimed it right at your face, this bastard. “watch.” you stuck your tongue out, a messy mixture of nagi’s precum and your spit dripping from your tongue. 

with a few more strokes, nagi nutted all on your face. painting you with his cum, he panted heavily, his broad chest rising and falling with each huff. “i just finished on youu, ooh.”

you picked up some of the cum on your finger and brought it into your mouth, sucking your digit clean. nagi got very—very. turned on by that, his dick twitching back to life even after he just came.

and right after that, he hauled you onto his lap and pushed your panties to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to his ravaging gaze. “shit—you’re so wet just from sucking me off?” nagi commented blankly, you squirmed and a flush quickly coated your cheeks.

“sei’!” you smacked his chest and he grabbed your wrist, bringing your small palm upto his face to press a kiss to it. only to distract you from how he shoved his dick right into your sopping wet cunt, a lewd squelch echoing through the room as he bottomed out in one swift thrust. you gasped, your back arching so beautifully.

“yeah, stay like that babygirl.” nagi kissed your neck, massaging your hip with one hand to ease you despite how absolutely full you felt. with the other hand he unmuted his mic to speak into it. 

“right here. sorry, my girlfriend wanted me.” nagi shrugged, from his headphones you could hear the whistles and cheers of his friends. nagi clamped a hand on your mouth, “gotta stay quiet, okay babe?” he then shifted his attention to his game, making you cockwarm him while he played games on call with his friends.

you muffled a whine into his shoulder. this was going to be a really, really long night.

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

a loser but he does not gaf. nnn?? nagi nut november 😳

record: 12 hours. he nutted at exactly 2 am on a tuesday night.

you were getting desperate now, you were leaking your juices all over him and some of it even spilled onto his gaming chair. yet nagi had not even moved once, let alone cum. you had been bouncing on his dick for what felt like an eternity, your clit was all swollen and flushed from grinding against his pelvis so much and your thighs were shaking, knees struggling to hold yourself up. your hips were cramping and you could barely hold yourself up.

“seiii’—baby pleaaaaseee—” you whined so needily you were sure his friends on the call could hear, nagi’s gaze flicked from the game to you then back to the screen. he clicked his tongue in faux annoyance.

“you already came twice on me and i haven’t even moved.” nagi remarked blankly, like this was daily news for him. gosh, this boy frustrated you to no end. if it wasn’t for you using him like a living breathing dildo to get yourself off, you would’ve strangled him already. nagi seemed to notice your frustration and with a small sigh he unmuted his mic

“gonna go afk guys. my girlfriend wants me again, can’t say no.” nagi didn’t wait for a response from the other side and took his headphones off, resting them on his neck and grabbing ahold of your hips. 

“where was i?” nagi tilted his head and began pounding into you until your eyes rolled back. on his computer screen, his valorant avatar died and his friends were yelling at him for dipping mid match. but he was clearly aiming for something else.

─── SHIDOU RYUSEI didn’t even think about this challenge. he barely even remembered until you brought it up to him one night while he was humping your thigh while scrolling instagram. no but seriously, did you reaaallyy expect this jerkmate grandmaster baiter, gooner supreme, to not nut for a whole month? he’d rather eat glass and like it.

↳ FIRST DAY : 

yeah, first day. because he is not lasting more than that.

heck, he barely lasted the first hour.

“haah? ‘ya ain’t serious right?” shidou drawled out. he thought you would’ve taken the hint that he just cannot physically function without busting a load every other day. not doing that for a whole month is practically a death sentence for him, even more-so because you’re his hot, beautiful, perfect girlfriend.

but your serious expression threw him off, you were not joking. “fiinnee. guess i could play along for like—an hour.” shidou yawned, rolling his eyes. but his hand immediately found it’s way to your thigh, squeezing it. “let me just keep it there.” shidou gave you a sidelong glance. 

you shook your head, you knew he would tap out soon.

and he did, oh dear. shidou had you folded up in a full nelson. his big toned arms hooked under your knees, your back pressed flush to his chest. his cock thrust in and out of you hard and fast, every thrust made his pelvis connect with your asscheeks and a loud filthy slap echoed through the room.

“fuck—g’na nut all in this bitch. yeah? this pussy keeps sucking me in like ‘ye can’t get enough.” shidou grinned wildly, his hand creeped lower to rub circles on your clit as he grinded against your cunt, trying to stuff himself deeper.

“ryuuuu’—harder!—gimme moreee!” you screamed his name, your words slurring as shidou fucked you into oblivion. “yeah? more? fuckin’ greedy little slut.” shidou cackled, sweat rolling down his abs and neck, resuming his earlier pace. his hands reached to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks to drive himself deeper into you. the crown of his cock kissed your cervix with each thrust making you cry out.

“mmh—ryu’! cummin’—!” your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, toes curling as you gushed over shidou’s cock for the nth time that night. “cream all over my dick—yeah, jus’ like that, what a good gal.” shidou panted, eventually he buried himself to the hilt inside you, balls slapping against your ruined pussy as he emptied yet another load inside of your creamy little cunt.

“one more, ‘kay?”

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

what made you think he would win..?

record: 1. singular. hour. this man does not care.

shidou held you close while he was back to scrolling through instagram. you cuddled up into his side, wrapped up in his hoodie which drowned you in it. the sleeves fell way past your hands and thighs and it smelled so undoubtedly like him. that feral scent of his.

shidou laughed at a dumb reel, his thumb rubbing circles on your hips. he didn’t say anything, the silence already spoke volumes. it was comfortable like this, just the two of you and nothing else. 

eventually though, shidou cradled the back of his head with his palm and pressed a kiss to your forehead. your eyes fluttered closed, a small giggle escaping you. music to his ears.

“did i go too hard? are ‘ya hungry?” shidou asked, showing the rare softness which was only reserved for you. his eyes were half-lidded, gazing down at you with so much adoration it stole your breath. 

you shook your head and buried your face in his chest, wrapping (barely) your arms around his bare upper half and pulling him flush to you. “nuh uh—mmf just wan’ you.” your voice was muffled into his warm skin. 

shidou laughed, not his usual devilish cackles but a rare genuine laugh. he pressed another kiss, this time to your cheek and resumed watching his stupid reels. 

─── MICHAEL KAISER was another boaster, he knew he was going to win this challenge. how could he not? it’s not like you were thaaatt tempting!

↳ FIRST WEEK:

this was not a challenge. this was not a challenge. this was not a challenge. this was not a challenge. okay maybe it kind of was.

would it hurt you to stop being so sexy and hot and lovely and — for just one second? really, you were doing this on purpose. and kaiser would not fall for it, no he wouldn’t. nuh uh.

“micha’! you’re home!” you hopped up from the couch to go greet kaiser at the front door, kaiser was clad in a warm hoodie and sweatpants. yet he could feel a shiver run down his body as soon as you wrapped your small arms around him. 

yet he forced himself to act normal, he could not give up now. unless he wanted to be the laughing stock of the whole bastard münchen team for the coming year. 

“liebe, did you miss me?” kaiser wrapped his arms around you too, crushing you against him with more force than necessary. his cold hands trailed all over your body, slipping lower to cup your round ass, squeezing the fat and feeling it spill from between his fingers. you were so perfect.

“mm—sure i did. you’re dirty micha’, go wash up.” you giggled, pulling away and helping kaiser take his hoodie off. kaiser pouted softly but chased after your lips for a kiss, you pulled back and grimaced, “eww, you’ll get me sick.” kaiser rolled his eyes, “germaphobe. just say you don’t want me.” 

“drama queen.” you sighed but your words held no real bite, you tugged kaiser’s hoodie off his frame and folded it in your arms. “go shower, for real now.” and kaiser reluctantly obliged like a very bratty toddler. what’s up with his attitude?

↳ SECOND WEEK:

his palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy — mom’s spaghetti. 

he cannot do this anymore. he regrets ever boasting about this, he regrets even taking up this damned challenge! he can’t even touch you without wanting to rip your clothes off and bend you over the nearest possible surface that’s how down bad he has become.

and it has been showing during football practice too, his teammates are always keeping a safe distance from him lest he kick the ball in their balls. then it will really be no nut november.

every shot kaiser made seemed to make the net scream every time he landed a goal, and by the end of practice, kaiser was always buzzing with energy now even more-so that he hasn’t nutted in weeks.

“kaiser misses a goal in latest match against brazil. is the german legend slipping up?” you read out the news headline to kaiser who was fuming beside you on the bed. you could literally see his head emitting smoke, almost. 

you bit back a giggle and turned to lay on your side, running a hand over kaiser’s chest and making him shudder. “what’s wrong, big guy?” you feigned concern when you actually knew all too well what’s wrong with him. and kaiser hated that, you teasing little minx.

kaiser grabbed onto your hips and lifted you onto his lap, “you know exactly what’s wrong with me.” kaiser deadpanned, he looked some parts mad and some parts desperate. he began grinding you on his lap, feeling your cunt rub against his bulge from the fabric of your panties under your sinfully short skirt.

“getting desperate, are we now, micha?” you teased, leaning forwards and hiking your tiny tee up, allowing your tits to spill free and gods, they filled up kaiser’s face.

“mmhmm..” kaiser’s voice was muffled from in-between your round, perfect boobs. his hands crept higher up your skirt to grab handfuls of your perky ass and grind you harder against him. he was so lost in the sauce he didn’t even notice your juices ruining his sweatpants.

“michaa—! ye’ can’t cum yet, remember?” you rolled off kaiser’s lap and began pulling your clothes back in place. kaiser’s hand went down to palm himself through his damp sweats, gosh his outline was so thick it had you drooling. 

“please, prinzessin.” kaiser whispered, loud and clear but you pretended not to hear anyway. just to hurt his already fragile ego even more. “mm? please what?” you smirked, running a hand down kaiser’s chest again.

“please just—let me put the tip in. please! that doesn’t—that doesn’t count as losing, yeah?” kaiser pleaded, desperation lacing every syllable of his speech. and how could you resist him when he was like this?

you shook your head with small laugh and flipped your skirt up, pushing your panties to the side with your finger. “just the tip, ‘kay? no more.” kaiser ogled but then fished his cock out from his pants and he was already so hard. poor boy, must’ve been soooo needy.

he stroked his cock a few times, his tip was drooling pre and looked so flushed and pretty. he pressed it against your sopping wet pussy and slid it up and down your folds, smacking your clit with it making you cry out sweetly.

eventually, kaiser pressed just his huge, flared tip inside of you and immediately a groan which he seemed to have been holding in for ages slipped out of his mouth. 

“scheiße—yer’ squeezin’ the life outta’ me, liebe..” kaiser choked out, head thrown back over the pillows, heels digging into the mattress trying to hold back from thrusting up into you. because he knows if he does,

he won’t pull out till he nuts.

↳ THIRD WEEK:

by week three, kaiser has become a problem.

not for you. not for his teammates. not for isagi (okay, maybe for isagi). no, no—kaiser has become a problem for himself.

the man wakes up hard. he goes to bed hard. he breathes too fast and he’s hard. like a beast of erectile dysfunction, at this point he’s convinced his body is staging his downfall. 

he’s snappy, irritable, and painfully pretty (just like usual but this time he is suffering). everyone around him knows something is off—they been knew—he’s quieter in the locker room, always sitting with his legs crossed like a victorian lady in the medieval ages trying to hide her ankles except he’s trying to hide his boner.

AND god forbid you so much as bend down to pick something up in front of him. the moment you do, you can literally hear his last two braincells arguing: 

“im gonna nut”

“dude sybau we gotta survive this”

“i can’t do this anymore twin”

“get up.” kaiser ordered, but his voice was a little pitched up. you were bent over, cleaning the bookshelf and of course you wore the tightest little booty shorts to just rub it in even more. 

he knew you were doing this on purpose, showing yourself around knowing he can’t do anything about it?  

you peered over your shoulder to look at him, your hips giving a teasing little sway. “what is it, micha? can’t i clean around a little?” you pouted, batting your dolly lashes up at kaiser. 

“you can..but stop—fuckin’ hell.” kaiser ran his inked hand down his face, his eyes zeroed in on your plump ass. how much he wanted to just grab two handfuls of that perfect bouncy fat and feel it slap against his hips everytime he fucked into your creamy little cunt.

you seemed to read his thoughts, with how your lips curled into the tiniest smirk. “what? use your words..” you cooed mockingly, arching your back even more. 

kaiser wasn’t having any of it, he simply stood up and walked away. because he knew if he stayed, it would be much, much worse.

↳ FOURTH WEEK:

oh, hallelujah. november is almost coming to an end, kaiser swore he would actually shave his head and retreat retreated a monastery in taiwan to lead the life of a monk if this month wore on any loner.

the morning of 30th november was the longest ever in his life, every passing second was a second closer to salvation and kaiser couldn’t wait. 

it had gotten so bad that he skipped practice unless he wanted to pop a boner in the middle of the field. sure his team was confused, kaiser never skipped practice or literally anything to do with football then they looked at the calender and a collective ‘ohhh’ was sounded.

and as soon as the clock hit 12? baby, kaiser was not. holding. back.

“you little fuckin’ tease.” kaiser bounced you on his lap in reverse cowgirl, one hand tightly gripping your hips and his tattooed hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “you made my life a livin’ hell with this—sweet little cunt.” kaiser growled, his hips bucking up to fuck more of his big cock into your drooling pussy. 

“mmhh—! micha—please—too much!” you whined loudly, tapping his meaty thigh weakly with two fingers. “too much?” kaiser laughed humorlessly, “yer’ leaking all over m’ cock and you say is too much?” kaiser nipped at your earlobe. 

kaiser’s hands slid down to harshly cup your bouncing tits and kneaded the firm mounds in his hands. you threw your head back on his shoulder with a cry. “fuckk yeah—look at these perfect little tits. all fuckin’ mine.” kaiser punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust into you, his tip kissing that spot inside of you which made you see stars behind your eyelids.

kaiser then grabbed his phone from the bedside table and opened his camera app, he then gripped your chin and forced you to look at yourself, messy and dumb, in the phone. “smile, liebling.” kaiser chirped and winked at the screen while you tried your best to smile with your swollen lips and drool down your chin.

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

kaiser never loses, what did you think?

record: 30 full days. barely made it.

“look how fucked out you look here.” kaiser laughed, showing you the selfie of you he took earlier. “micha! stop it—” you giggled and pushed the phone away, kaiser curled an arm around you and hugged you closer to his side. his nose buried in your hair to inhale the sweet scent of your shampoo—something delicate like you. “can’t believe i survived without fuckin’ ‘ya for a month.” kaiser commented with a small chuckle, his words buried into the crown of your head. 

“..‘m never doing this again.” kaiser shook his head and spooned you closer to him.

he is definitely doing this again.

─── ALEXIS NESS who saw you mention doing the no nut november challenge once and immediately started sulking like a puppy who got his favourite toy taken away. 

he is not going to deprive himself of you for a whole month, what do you think he is? stupid?

↳ FIRST WEEK:

day 1. ness has lost vision in his left leg and has a fracture in his right eye. no seriously, he feels like he’s walking on a pile of glass barefoot—and he would rather do that than actually do this challenge.

but since you pleaded him so sweetly, how could he say no? he tried to keep his act up for atleassstt a couple of days. maybe 6 or 7.

day 3. he caved, like a dumbass. no you can’t even blame him this time! poor baby just couldn’t resist it when you went to the shower and left your panties lying on the floor. he was just cleaning up after you—but fuck, he just couldn’t help himself from pressing the lacy pair to his face and taking a big sniff. gosh, he was drooling like a puppy.

one thing lead to another and he was jerking off with your panties wrapped around his cock. so disgusting. he didn’t even notice when you stepped out of the bathroom in just a skimpy little towel, and caught him right in the act. using your panties to get himself off.

and you wouldn’t let him get away with that, would you?

“you stupid little puppy, just can’t keep your dick in your pants, can’t you?” you cooed, rubbing your dripping cunt on ness’s face. you were sitting on ness’s face, eyes locked onto his where his face was peeking out from between your thighs. 

gosh, he was in heaven, he loved when you took charge of him. his tongue licked between your folds, gulping down mouthfuls of your slick. you grinded down against his mouth and up until your clit caught on his nose.

“mmh, you’re gonna nut just from this, huh?” you tilted your head to the side, fingers tangling into ness’s soft magenta locks to hold him in place as you rode his face. ness’s hands gripped your thighs to press you harder against him but you swatted them away. 

“no touching. you don’t deserve it.” you clicked your tongue, you lifted yourself up from his face and looked down. ness whined, “m-mommy! please—fuck—sit back down!” he demanded, and you did. ness’s lips immediately latched onto your clit and he began sucking until your pearl was flushed and aching. 

ness bucked his hips up, fucking the air. mumbling ‘love you’s and endless praises into your pussy. he was so pussy-drunk he couldn’t even stop himself from cumming untouched. ropes of his cum splattering over his own stomach. 

↳ DID HE WIN OR LOSE?

he was destined to lose!!

record: 3 days, atleast he lasted half a week?

“a-ah! mommy—y’re so tight and mm—so good!” ness babbled in your ear as he fucked into you mindlessly, he pressed his forehead against yours, hands cupping your face. “love you—love you so fuckin’ much—and love this tight lil’ pussy..” ness whispered against your lips before capturing them in a wet, messy kiss. 

ness fucked vigorously into your sloppy pussy, pressing wet, smacking kisses all over your fucked out face. his thrusts eventually got sloppier and with a few more, he buried himself deep inside of you and shooter his seed right into your warm, waiting womb. he pressed on your belly with a shaky hand.

“mmgh—mommy yer’ gonna have m’ baby?”

“you know that’s not what i meant.” he sighed, exhaling sharply.

“then what exactly… did you mean, sae?” you demanded, your voice trembling despite how badly you wanted it to sound firm. “because lately it feels like i’m constantly trying to squeeze myself into whatever tiny space you have left for me.”

“don’t start, please.”

“don’t… start?” you scoffed, a humorless laugh slipping out. “i’m your girlfriend. i shouldn’t have to beg for your attention.”

“and i shouldn’t have to justify every second of my day to you.”

for a moment, all you could hear was the faint static of the call between you. it stretched on long enough for your anger to start turning into something heavier.

“maybe… it’s better if we stop pretending this is working,” you whispered, your throat tightening around every word.

sae’s sharp reply came instantly. “don’t say that.”

“… why not?” you snapped. “when was the last time we had a conversation that didn’t end like this?”

“that’s because you keep pushing.”

“no, it’s because you’re impossible to talk to!”

“maybe because nothing i say is ever enough for you.”

for a beat, neither of you said anything. then came the final straw. “fine,” you breathed, the word coming out shakier than you wanted. “… maybe soccer is the only thing you actually care about. you know what? i’m done.”

before he could respond, you ended the call.

the screen went dark instantly, your tear-streaked reflection staring back at you through the blackened glass.

for the first time since the argument started, your apartment fell completely silent. your chest felt tight. your eyes burned from crying because some part of you already missed him. and despite how angry you still were, guilt had already begun creeping in around the edges.

but right now, the resentment that had been building for weeks was still fresh, still sitting heavy in your chest. then in a fit of anger and exhaustion, you’d decided to block him everywhere— imessage, whatsapp, instagram, tiktok, even his email too. you didn’t want to hear his voice, see his name pop up on your screen, or read another dry reply that made you feel like an inconvenience.

you just needed silence and a moment of clarity for yourself.

—

on the other side of the world, sae stared at his phone screen in disbelief.

his messages weren’t delivering. his calls went straight to voicemail. when he opened instagram, your account no longer existed in his following or followers. the last message he sent you sat on ‘not delivered.’

he tried once more, then again, each attempt ending the same way. still nothing.

“… fuck,” he muttered, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

he was in his hotel room after his evening training, hair still damp from the shower, exhaustion from the day mixing with rising irritation from whatever that transpired between you two.

sae rarely lost his cool. but right now, sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone gripped tightly in his hand; he was definitely furious. sure, the two of you had argued before, but this time you had intentionally shut him out. he knew he’d said things he shouldn’t have. he knew the distance had been wearing thin on both of you. but the thought that you’d actually block him— or cut him off completely made him feel more helpless than ever.

after one last failed call, he threw his phone onto the mattress with a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face.

“stubborn woman…” he hissed under his breath, teal-eyes sharp with irritation. “you really think blocking me is going to fix anything?”

he leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the phone lying uselessly in front of him. a small part of him wanted to book the first flight back to japan without thinking twice, while the rational part of him knew you’d only resent him for ignoring the space you so clearly needed.

but the longer he sat there, unable to reach you; the heavier the unease settled in his chest. because for the first time in a long time… he couldn’t get through to you.

and he absolutely hated it.

⨳ 𝓷𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: errr ending it here because i might wanna do a pt 2

You moaned like it was a confession, because it was. You loved it. Loved the way he used you. Loved how obsessed he was. How he never let you clean up. How he whispered that no one else would ever touch you again.

“You’re mine,” he said darkly, his thrusts punishing now. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, barely able to speak. “I’m your cumdump. Only yours.”

He groaned low in his chest, pushing you to the edge again, watching your body tighten and tremble. But just when you were about to fall apart, he stopped. “Not yet,” he said with a smirk, grabbing your throat. “You don’t get to cum until I want you to. That’s what a good little dump does. You wait. You beg. You take it.”

A few days later you were walking through the stadium of the u20 national team, making sure the organization ran smoothly. You checked something on your phone as a hand wrapped around your throat and Sae tilted your head back.

“Need a break,” he murmured. “Spread your legs.”

You barely had time to protest as he spun you around and pinned you against the nearest wall. He pushed your skirt up and ripped your panties off like a tissue and then he shoved his cock inside. No teasing. No warning. Just thick, brutal thrusts that knocked the breath out of your lungs. Your legs wrapped around his waist while he used you like you belonged to him. You did. You absolutely did.

“That’s it,” he panted into your ear as he slammed into you. “Just a tight little hole. My personal fucktoy. Don’t even have to ask anymore, your body knows what to do.”

He was relentless, fucking you so hard the pictures on the wall rattled. One hand under your ass, the other forcing your head back so he could watch your face twist in blissed-out shock. No one dared interrupt, not when it was Itoshi Sae. Not when he was groaning quietly. Not when he held you in such a bruising grip that made you whimper.

“You feel that?” he murmured, slowing just enough to roll his hips and make you clench. “You’re made for this. For me. For my cock. Gonna fill you up again. Let it drip down your thighs while you continue working.”

You whined, nails clawing at his back. He was already close. You could feel it. His grip tightening, his breath going ragged, the sharp thrusts getting messier.

“Take it.”

He shoved in deep and stilled, cock twitching as he filled you full, the heat of it spilling inside. Your head dropped to his shoulder, brain empty, body soaked in sweat and juices. But Sae just chuckled once. He pulled out with a filthy squelch, let your feet hit the ground, but you barely stood. You were dripping. You felt it running down your thighs, his cum thick and warm and claiming you.

He tucked himself back into his pants like it was nothing, “Don’t clean up. Let everyone see what you are.”

Sae never bothered knocking on your office. He hustled appeared and grabbed you by the hair. With your hair in his fist he dragged you down to your knees.

“Open that mouth,” he said, already tugging his cock free. “It’s been two hours. You must be starving.”

You moaned around him before your brain caught up, cheeks bulging as he shoved his cock in deep. Unbothered by your gagging. He loved when your makeup smeared. When your eyes watered and your throat clenched around him like it missed him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “My dirty little cumdump. Just a hole I can fuck anytime I want.”

And he did. Hallways, in the middle of the field after everyone was gone, sometimes at your home. He’d bend you over with your panties stuffed in your mouth, slam into you while you sobbed and begged for mercy you never got.

This time he yanked you up, flipped you around and bent you over the desk. No prep or lube, only spit and raw need. He shoved in like he owned you. He’d branded you with his cock so many times your body opened for him automatically. You moaned, brain slipping out of reach as he fucked you hard and filthy.

Each thrust slammed into your g-spot, intensifying the pleasure too sharp. You were drooling and barely conscious at this point. All you could think about was Sae and his cock stretching you wide.

He grabbed your throat, leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Gonna stuff you full again,” he said molten. “Already leaked out the last two loads. Can’t waste a single drop.”

Your pussy fluttered like it wanted to be used.

“Tell me what you are.”

You gasped, “Y-your cumdump.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your cumdump!” you sobbed loudly.

“Good girl.”

He slammed in deep. Hips jerking as he filled you again with hot, thick, endless mess. Your cry mixed to his deep groan. You were pushed to the brink, the stretch and pressure too much, too perfect. His cum dripped down your thighs the second he pulled out, but he didn’t let it fall far.

No.

He shoved two fingers in, pushed it back up. He groaned again at the sight of your messy cunt swallowing his spend like it was made for it. Then he snapped a photo with his phone.

“For another time,” he said flatly, tucking himself back in. “When I’m jerking off on an away-game.”

You collapsed onto the desk, dazed, used and aching, and then the door creaked open. Sae didn’t even flinch, only looked over his shoulder.

“She’s mine,” he said, like it explained everything. “And she likes being ruined.”

Aiku shouldn’t have walked in, he knew that. But he had and now he couldn’t get it out of his head. The way your back arched, the way Sae held your throat and the obscene slick sounds echoing in the small office like it was something out of a porn. You’d been wrecked and dripping. You didn’t even flinch when Sae snapped a picture of his cum leaking out of you. You looked proud of it.

So yeah, Aiku had ideas. The next day when Sae was busy with interviews and you were alone, bent over your phone reading a text, Aiku saw an opening.

“Hey,” he said all flirty. “Didn’t expect you to be so down for a quick fuck like that.”

You blinked. “What?”

“C’mon,” he chuckled, stepping closer. “I’m not Itoshi, but I can make you feel good. You were so hot yesterday. Bet you’re always wet like that, huh?”

His hand brushed your hip, fingers sliding dangerously close to your ass.

You stepped back and whispered, “Don’t touch me.”

He raised his hands like it was a joke. “Relax. I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” you snapped, walking away before your heart gave out, but it stayed with you.

It clung to you. The way Aiku looked at you, like you were free-use. Like being Sae’s cum dump meant you were anyone’s. You didn’t tell Sae. You couldn’t.

What if he agreed? What if the thought of sharing you with others turned him on? What if he got bored of you? What if you ruined it?

So you stayed quiet and days later, when Sae slipped behind you in the hall, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest like he sometimes did - you flinched. You flinched like it wasn’t him and instantly Sae froze.

“Hey,” he said seriously. “What was that?”

You shook your head too fast. “Nothing. You just surprised me—”

“You don’t get surprised,” he said, stepping in front of you now to scan your face. “You always know when it’s me. You melt when it’s me.”

You looked away. “I’m just tired.”

But Sae didn’t buy it, not for a second. His fingers brushed your jaw, trying to be gentle. “Did someone touch you?”

Your silence was louder than any answer.

“Who?”

Your lips trembled. “It wasn’t like that—he just—he saw us and thought I was… easy.”

Sae’s pupils narrowed and his jaw ticked once, then twice. “Who?”

You whispered, “Aiku.”

Sae was gone before you could stop him.

He found Aiku in one of the gyms. All casual, sipping on his protein shake like he hadn’t crossed a LINE so deep he was practically buried in Sae’s shit list.

“Hey, Itoshi,” Aiku called, half a smirk on his lips. Sae didn’t respond as he stepped up to him, the air around them downright cracking with tension.

Aiku’s smirk dropped and he tensed. “Whoa, what’s going on—”

Sae was in front of him before he could finish the sentence, hand clamped tight around his throat. He slammed him hard against the wall. “You touched her?”

Aiku choked. “What—”

“You touched what’s mine?” Sae leaned in, his eyes filled with rare furry. “You looked at her like she was a free-use toy after watching me stuff her full and then you put your hands on her?”

“Itoshi, fuck… okay, back up—”

“I don’t back up.” Sae squeezed harder. “Do you know what ID do to anyone who breathed wrong in her direction?”

Aiku gasped, face reddening.

Sae leaned closer, voice dropping into something cold and hollow. “You think she’s just some slut I use? That she’s available to anyone just because I fuck her in the hallway? That’s your mistake. She isn’t some hole I use. She’s mine. She’s sacred. She’s the only thing that keeps me from losing myself and you dared to touch her?”

Sae dropped him and Aiku hit the ground hard, coughing and clutching his throat. Sae stood over him, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes blazing.

“You don’t touch her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even think about her unless you want your name scraped off a stone.” he crouched beside him, head tilted like a wolf circling a wounded animal. “Next time I even feel you near her, I’ll peel the skin off your face before you know you’re dead.”

He stood, dusted off his pants and walked away. No one dared stopping him, because they felt what he was. What she meant to him.

Itoshi Sae wasn’t in love, he was possessed.

In the meantime you went home. Too shaken up from what happened today. You tried to focus on the silence when Sae opened the door. He had used the spare key you once gave him, drunk off his cock.

You looked up and… it was a lot.

His expression was tight and neither of you spoke. And then he was stripping. His shoes came off first, followed by his jacket. His shirt. His belt. Pants. Boxers. Everything peeled away like he couldn’t stand a single inch between you.

You sat frozen, heart pounding. “Sae?”

He didn’t speak, not until he was completely naked. And then he crossed the room and sank to his knees in front of you, forehead pressed to your stomach.

“I should’ve protected you,” he murmured. “He touched what’s mine.”

Your fingers slipped into his hair. “You scared me earlier.”

“I know.” he looked up, teal eyes bare and burning. “I’ll never let you flinch again. I swear it.”

He kissed you slowly and when he guided you back onto the bed it wasn’t rushed or rough. It was complete, because this time Sae needed all of you. He crawled over you and started stripping you naked until you were skin on skin. No clothing, no barrier, just feverish heat and want. Your legs parted and he lined himself up.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered. “Let me all the way in. I need to feel every inch of you.”

You did and when he pushed inside, it was differet. It was deeper and slower, a stretch that felt like he was carving his name into you. Your nails raked down his back as he rolled his hips, grinding into you like he wanted to fuse you together. To leave nothing untouched.

“You’re not just mine,” he groaned. “You’re me. My reason. My peace. My obsession.”

You whimpered as his thrusts grew desperate, needy. Like his soul was clawing its way into yours through every inch of skin.

His hands were everywhere—your hips, your face, your throat, your thighs—holding you down, holding you close.

“I saw red,” he panted. “When he said he touched you, I lost my mind. You don’t know what I’d do to someone who thinks they can take you.”

“Sae—”

“I’d kill for you.” he buried himself to the Hilt, groaning deep in his chest as your walls fluttered around him, wet and full and trembling.

“I’m gonna cum,” he breathed. “Gonna fill you again. So deep. I want you leaking for days. I want you dripping proof that no one else will ever touch you.”

When he came, it was endless. Hot and thick, flooding you completely as he held you tight. His chest pressed to yours, lips ghosting against your cheek. No separation. No air. Just him, all of him. He didn’t pull out and roll away. He stayed inside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding your body against his like a lifeline.

bow divider: @/cursed-carmine | placeholder pic from pinterest

dividers: @/diviniyae

Some of them being...

"Oh! I was just taking out an stray eyelash from his face."

"I just happened to walk into the same room."

"No, I am only sleeping in his room because I don't want to waste electricity."

"Its economical. You won't get it."

Perfectly believable.

I even started arguing with Dan Heng in front of everyone once every few days so nobody gets suspicious. Sometimes over petty things like stealing food or even wearing my socks.

God, I should be an actor. 

Sometimes I catch him smiling at me during dinner. Terribly cute but he isn't very smart, you know? He doesn't realise the drastic consequences of being caught by one of them. So I just shoot him a warning glare and watch him turn back to his plate.

To console him, I usually sneak into his room late night.

Why?

See this is called a 'strategy'. Everyone is asleep, except maybe Stelle who is busy gaming. But she's too lazy to get up from her chair anyway. 

So where was I? Ah yes, night. 

So sometimes I enter my boyfriend's room, pulling him into a hug and peppering kisses all over his face. He is not much of a 'reaction' giver, but its obvious he loves the attention.

Why?

Cuz his lips lift up exactly 11 degrees. Its SO obvious he is head over heels for me.

After a fun night I make sure to leave his room before dawn.

Stelle treats his room like her own and I'd rather die than be caught sleeping with him. Not that it's embarrassing, but that....well...it is a little embarrassing....?

Honestly though...

I'm incredibly proud of us.

Three months.

Not one person has figured it out.

We're unstoppable.

DAN HENG

No one knows (Y/N) and I are dating.

At least...

She thinks no one knows.

It's a little cute.

Every morning she pretends not to notice me. 

Every afternoon she insists we're "just walking in the same direction."

Every evening she acts as though sitting beside me happened by coincidence.

Then, ten minutes later, she'll quietly hook her little finger around mine underneath the table.

Even I struggle to hold in my laugh sometimes. 

She believes she's subtle. (She is not.)

When she tries to hide her smile, her ears turn red.

When she lies, she speaks a little too quickly.

When she's embarrassed, she suddenly becomes fascinated with the nearest wall. God, she's adorable.

I think everyone knows. Or...at least some of them do?

No one says anything.

Maybe they are just being polite. Or maybe they are enjoying the show that we are putting up for them.

I certainly do.

Sometimes she'll drag me into an empty storage room because she's convinced nobody ever goes there. Which is factually incorrect. Pom-Pom visits occasionally.

And yet, she would pin me to a wall, looking left to right like she was some petty criminal looking for cops. And then with the most beautiful flush on her cheeks, she'd look up and me and say, "We are safe."

And then kiss me.

It's hard not to fall for someone like her. So full of warmth and energy, someone completely opposite to me.

I sometimes wonder if I ever deserved to love her. And then when I ask her the same question, she would yell at me non-stop for the next hour. As if the thought itself was absurd for her.

So I let her do whatever she liked. 

I don't have the heart to tell her that March nearly walked in on us kissing last week.

Or that Mr. Yang definitely noticed us leaving together. 

Or that Himeko started smiling every time she caught us making prolonged eye contact. 

She'll find out eventually.

Until then...

I'll happily keep pretending.

It's fun watching someone try so hard to hide how much they love you.

MARCH 7 TH

They're so obviously dating.

Like...

SO obviously.

I don't know how (Y/N)'s convinced herself she's being sneaky. I literally saw her going into Dan Heng's room at 11 in the night.

She insists I sit between them during breakfast, but the second I pull the chair she shoots me the nastiest glare. Ugh. Its soooooo obvious.

They always volunteer for the same missions.

Dan Heng carries her stuff before she even asks.

She steals food off his plate. And then proceeds to scold him for not stopping her.

Honestly, they are such a joke sometimes. Kind of those trash rom-coms. But instead of watching behind a screen I get to see the live version.

Do you know what's worse?

I HAVE PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE. 

Not because I was spying!

I was taking scenic photos of the train! Beautiful lighting! Wonderful composition!

AND THEN, RIGHT AT THE BACKROUND OF THE PHOTO.

WAS THEM.

KISSING.

LIKE FULL ON MAKING OUT. (exaggeration)

I had to crop them out! Do you know how difficult photoshop is?!

LIKE CAN'T THEY GET A ROOM? THERE ARE SO MANY ON THE EXPRESS.

OR EVEN BETTER. THROW THEM OFF THE TRAIN.

Go kiss somewhere else. 

See, I'm not jealous. I'm absolutely not jealous.

I am perfectly happy being single.

...

It's just...

Hypothetically...

If anyone deserved a cute romance...

It'd obviously be me.

I'm adorable.

HIMEKO

I somehow always knew they'd somehow end up together. 

The first time (Y/N) boarded the express, she was the most comfortable around Dan Heng. And the very same boy who chose to keep his words short, starting having long conversations with her. 

Sometimes they'd sit on the sofa, talking about the planets they want to visit, or the food they wish to taste. 

...

Happiness has an odd way of changing people.

They soon found out ridiculous reasons to talk to each other, to stand beside each other. 

Little things.

The kind of things young people believe they're hiding.

I never wished to intrude.

Love deserves room to breathe.

Especially new love.

There is something rather precious about watching two people slowly build a place where they feel safe with one another.

I still remember the morning Dan Heng quietly poured her a cup of coffee before making his own. Or the time he stood anxiously near the sliding doors to wait for her return after a mission.

It was then I knew. 

I hoped they would tell us eventually. Not because they owed us an explanation. But because I wanted them to know they never had to hide.

This train has always been a home. And homes should be places where joy is celebrated, not hidden.

I truly hope they remain happy together.

That they continue laughing over breakfasts. Holding hands when they think no one can see. And find comfort in each other after completing long missions.

Life among the stars is full of uncertainty and exhaustion.

But somehow, love makes even the longest journeys feel warm.

WELT

I was the first to notice.

Not because they were careless. Simply because I have lived long enough to recognize the look.

It's a subtle thing.

The instinct to glance toward the same person after something amusing happens. The unconscious habit of checking whether they're safe during battle. The need to stay close to them, no matter the situation.

I believe I noticed sometime during our stop on Belobog. 

Neither of them had admitted anything aloud. Perhaps not even to themselves.

But the evidence accumulated naturally afterward.

They shared routines, lingering conversations and the occasional disappearances that somehow always involved the same two people.

Himeko eventually asked me one evening if I'd noticed.

I admitted that I had. And we agreed there was no reason to bring it up.

When March eventually started piecing things together, I asked her not to say anything.

She complained.

For 2 hours.

Still, she listened. 

I wanted them to tell us when they were ready.

People deserve the chance to define their own relationships in their own time. There is no virtue in forcing a confession before someone feels comfortable enough to offer it.

Besides, watching them attempt to be discreet has been unexpectedly entertaining.

Especially when (Y/N) confidently whispers to Dan Heng that no one has figured it out.

She says it with such conviction that I almost feel guilty.

Almost.

STELLE

They are.... WHAT?!??????

They're dating? Since when?

I thought they were cousins? or just very....very close friends.

...

They kissed?

On the train?

More than once?

...

Oh. That explains...

Everything.

...

Wait.

THAT'S WHY THEY KEPT DISAPPEARING AFTER DINNER?!

I thought they were playing cards. 

......Fuck, I owe March 20 credits.

Fin

THIS WAS A FUN ONE. I love dan heng sooooo much like UGH HES SO SWEET.