ONE MORE FINAL: i need u.

“Hey there, pretty girl.”

“What's up, chocolate?”

Eye roll. The biggest eye roll in the history of eye rolls.

Whenever these two idiots came your way, you had to roll your eyes. They were pretty loose with their tongues for people who were in an active relationship with each other. But it was none of your business. That was just the way they were.

Your best friends Suguru and Satoru have been dating for a while now. When they announced they were dating, you were truly happy for them and, to be honest, not even surprised. That's because you had no idea what their relationship would mean for your friendship. It meant you would be exposed to everything they were going through.

Be it fighting over who loves the other more or even getting into an actual fight where you would have to console each of them separately, them talking about the movie they were going to watch later and how they were going to make everyone jealous by making out at the movies, talking about the positions they were going to put each other in after… Yeah, it was a mess. A weird and hot mess. But you loved them dearly, so you couldn't do anything about it. Another thing you frowned upon was the fact that both men kept on flirting with you whenever they could, whether it was flirting or teasing you. Even when they were on their own. But you didn't think much of it. It had started before they had even started dating, so maybe it was just a force of habit. A habit that would never die down, you feared.

After you rolled your eyes at their antics, they sat on either side of you, Gojo resting his head against yours (he would rest his on your shoulder, but the height difference wouldn't let him) and Geto wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. One thing about them: they were the touchy-feely type. And boy, they weren't shy about touching you. Wherever they were. Whenever they wanted to touch you, they would. Which was weird to you. Because you knew for a fact that if someone were to be as close to your boyfriend as they were to you, you'd let the world burn.

But it was their relationship and their rules. Not your circus, not your monkey is what you would usually tell yourself. It was their relationship; you were sure they had their own rules set in stone. So it had nothing to do with you. They could do whatever they wanted to. It was none of your business.

When Gojo nuzzled against you, you twisted your face in disgust. Catching up on your behaviour, he glared at you, nuzzling into your skin even further. You will love me today he muttered, the pout in his voice evident.On the other side, his boyfriend laughed, letting go of you to look at the menu resting in front of him. “Have you ordered anything yet?” You shook your head no, peeking at the menu. You had arrived a few minutes before them, so you hadn't really thought about ordering anything just yet. He handed you the menu, and you skimmed through it.

As soon as you and Satoru had decided on what you wanted to have, Suguru stood up to go order up front since it didn't look like any waitress was coming your way any time soon. While you were gone, Gojo asked you if you had missed them, seeing as they had gone on a trip together. They had invited you, but you had declined respectfully. Your exact words were, ‘’I don't need to see you getting at it.”

Their response? ‘’You could join us.”

-

Before your brain can reboot Mikasa is already stepping in behind her, tall and silent, black lace bralette peeking from under an open black trench, dark lipstick already smudged like she’s been biting her own lip thinking about this all day. She reaches past you, clicks the lock and the sound is louder than it should be.

Shoko doesn’t ask, she just closes the gap, palms sliding up your cheeks, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth like she’s sizing you up for something filthy. Then she kisses you slow, wet, lazy tongue and curling against yours like she’s tasting the cherry gloss you put on three hours ago just because you felt pretty.

You make a tiny startled noise into her mouth.

She pulls back just enough to murmur, “God you taste sweet already,” voice all smoke and promethazine rasp. Then she’s stepping around you, fishing the half-finished blunt from her pocket, flicking her lighter like it’s nothing.

Mikasa doesn’t give you time to breathe.

She steps right into your space, one hand catching your jaw, not roughly, just firmly  tilting your face up so she can look at you properly. Her eyes are so dark they feel like you're sinking into them just by looking, then she kisses you too. Deeper…hungrier, less teasing, more claiming. Her tongue slides against yours like she’s mapping every inch Shoko's didn’t get to yet, you sway…legs already stupid.

Shoko flops onto your bed first, knees spread, combat boots still on, rude of her mind you, like she owns the place, then she takes the first long pull, cherry-wood, the tip glows orange, then she exhales a thick ribbon of smoke towards the ceiling.

“C’mere, baby.” She says with a lazy, dazed smile curling her lips.

Mikasa’s hands are already on your waist, guiding, not asking and she walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you drop down between them automatically, pliant, dizzy from the double-kiss ambush, then the weed hits your nose before you even register Shoko holding the blunt to her lips, she takes another pull.

“Open,” she says, soft but mean.

You do.

She shotguns you first, her plump llips brushing yours, pushing the smoke straight into your mouth while Mikasa’s fingers slip under your hoodie, cool rings grazing the underside of your tits, you whimper into the kiss and shoko laughs low against your mouth, pulls back just to watch your lashes flutter.

“Good girl.” 

Mikasa takes the blunt next, pulls deep, then leans in and seals her mouth over yours again — shotgunning you harder, smoke curling between your tongues while her thumb circles your nipple through the thin bralette you’re wearing underneath and you arch without meaning to.

Shoko’s mouth finds your neck at the same time, open-mouthed, slow drags of her tongue, teeth grazing just enough to sting. “You’re already shaking, princess,” she whispers right under your ear. “We haven’t even touched your pussy yet, you want us that bad huh?”

Mikasa hums agreement, voice velvet-gravel, her hand slides lower, palm flat against your stomach, fingers dipping just under the waistband of your shorts…not inside, not yet. Just there, teasing the elastic.

Shoko pulls back to look at you, eyes half-lidded, lips shiny from your gloss and her own spit.

“You gonna let us taste your pretty cunt, baby?” she asks, like it’s a real question. Like you could say no.

Mikasa’s fingers flex against your skin, impatiently waiting.

Your head tips back against Shoko’s shoulder. The weed is swimming through you now, warm and syrupy, turning every brush of their hands into sparks.

You nod, suddenly a little shy but you're desperate.

Shoko grins against your throat.

“That’s our good little cheer slut.”

Mikasa’s hands are already on your hips the second you’re boneless between them, pulling you forward with that quiet, inevitable strength. She doesn’t ask, she just maneuvers you until you’re straddling her lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her thighs. Your hoodie’s rucked up under your arms now, tiny cheer shorts riding high, and she looks up at you like you’re dessert she’s been starving for.

Her palms slide up under the fabric, cupping your tits fully this time, no more teasing over the bralette and drags her thumbs across your nipples once slow and deliberately, watching your mouth fall open on a shaky breath.

“Been thinking about these all week,” she murmurs, voice low and rough like she’s confessing a sin. Then she yanks the hoodie and bralette up and over your head in one smooth motion, tossing them somewhere behind her without looking.

Your bare chest is right there, flushed and heaving, Mikasa doesn’t waste time, she leans in, her lips closing around one nipple, hot and wet and sucking hard enough to make your back bow. Her tongue flicks, circles, then she pulls off with a soft pop just to switch to the other one, teeth grazing the sensitive peak while her hand kneads the first, rolling it between cool fingers.

You’re already whimpering, hips twitching forward on instinct, grinding down against the seam of her black jeans like you can’t help it.

That’s when Shoko moves.

She’s been watching, a lazy smile curling her lips, blunt forgotten on your nightstand still smoldering and now she’s sliding up behind you on her knees, chest pressing to your back, chin hooked over your shoulder so she can watch Mikasa’s mouth work.

“Fuck, look at you,” Shoko breathes against your ear, one hand snaking around to palm your stomach while the other hooks into the waistband of your shorts. “Already dripping through these little things, huh?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. Just tugs on it hard, the pastel fabric drags down your thighs, catching briefly on your knees before she yanks them the rest of the way off and flings them toward the floor. Cool air hits your soaked cunt and you whine, loud and needy.

Shoko laughs softly, mean and sweet at the same time, her fingers are there before you can even process it, two sliding through your folds, slow, gathering your sappy slick, then pushing in knuckle-deep, into your tight cunt without warning.

You gasp, hips jerking forward into Mikasa’s mouth.

“So fucking wet, princess,” Shoko drawls, curling her fingers just right, stroking that spot that makes your thighs shake. “This little pussy’s been waiting for us, hasn’t it?”

She doesn’t give you time to answer. Pulls her fingers out slowly, then spreads you open with both hands, thumbs holding your pussylips apart so she can see everything.

Mikasa’s still latched onto your tit, sucking bruises into the soft skin, but her eyes flick down too, dark and hungry.

Shoko leans in.

Her tongue drags flat from your clit all the way up to your soft hole in one long, filthy stripe. Then she seals her mouth over you, sucking sloppy, loud, with no shame. Tongue flicking fast against your clit while her fingers slide back inside, pumping in time with the way she’s eating you.

You’re trapped — Mikasa’s mouth on your tits, relentlessly switching between sucking and biting, leaving your nipples swollen and shiny; Shoko behind you, face buried in your cunt from the back, moaning into you like she’s the one getting off.

Your hands scrabble, one tangling in Mikasa’s dark hair to hold her against your chest, the other reaching back to grip Shoko’s wrist like you need something to anchor you while they ruin you.

Shoko pulls off just long enough to murmur against your dripping folds, breath hot,

“Gonna make you come all over my tongue, baby. Then we’re gonna switch.”

Mikasa hums around your nipple in agreement, the vibration shooting straight to your core.

Your head falls back against Shoko’s shoulder, mouth open on silent cries, thighs trembling, pussy clenching around nothing and everything at once.

They’ve got you right where they want you — split open, dripping and all theirs.

You’re still straddling Mikasa’s lap, thighs spread wide, trembling so hard the whole bed feels like it’s vibrating under you. Mikasa’s got one arm banded around your lower back now, holding you flush against her so you can’t squirm away even if you wanted to. Her mouth is latched back onto your tit, sucking slow, deep pulls now, tongue laving lazy circles around the swollen nipple like she’s trying to milk every tiny whimper out of you. The other hand is kneading the neglected one, thumb flicking the peak in cruel little rhythms that make your hips buck forward uselessly.

Shoko’s still behind you, on her knees, chest pressed to your back like she’s molding herself to every shudder that racks your body. She’s been quiet for a second, just breathing hot against your spine, letting you feel the drag of her tongue tracing your vertebrae then she pulls back just enough to spit. Right onto your ass. Thick, warm, obscene. It slides down the cleft, dripping over your already soaked hole.

You jolt. A broken little “ah—” slips out.

Shoko chuckles, low and dark. “Yeah? You like that, princess?”

Before you can even nod she rears back and slaps, her open palm cracking sharp against one cheek, then the other in quick succession. The sound echoes in the small room, obscene and wet because you’re dripping everywhere now. Your ass jiggles, skin blooming pink under her hand, and she does it again — harder — watching the way the flesh ripples.

“Fuck, look at this pretty little cunt,” she murmurs, almost to herself. Two fingers spread you open again, thumbs pulling your lips apart so wide you feel the cool air kiss your clit. Then she slaps there too — lighter, but right on the swollen nub. You cry out, hips snapping forward into Mikasa’s mouth.

Shoko doesn’t stop. She spits again — straight onto your entrance this time, then pushes three fingers in at once. No warning. Just the slick stretch, your tight walls fluttering around the sudden fullness. You’re so wet it slides in easy, but you’re still so fucking tight, clenching like your body’s trying to push her out and pull her deeper at the same time.

“Goddamn, baby,” Shoko groans, voice wrecked. She starts pumping, slow at first, letting you feel every ridge of her knuckles dragging against your walls — then faster, curling, scissoring, stretching you open like she’s prepping you for something bigger later. “This pussy’s greedy as hell. Sucking me right back in.”

Mikasa hums around your nipple in agreement, the vibration shooting straight down to where Shoko’s wrecking you. She switches tits again, sucking the other one into her mouth now, teeth grazing just enough to sting while her free hand slides down your stomach.

Her fingers find your clit at the exact same second Shoko’s tongue does.

Shoko’s been eating you sloppy this whole time — chin shiny, lips swollen — but now she focuses. Tongue flicking fast over your clit in messy little circles while her fingers keep fucking into you, curling hard against that spot that makes your vision white out.

And Mikasa, fuck — her fingers replace Shoko’s mouth for a second. Two of them pressing down on your clit, rubbing firm, slow circles while Shoko’s tongue laps at the edges, catching the slick that’s dripping down your thighs.

It’s too much.

You’re caught between them — Mikasa nursing on your tits like she’ll never get enough, sucking bruises into the soft undersides now, leaving you marked and sensitive; Shoko behind you, three fingers buried deep, stretching you wide, thumb occasionally brushing your rim just to make you clench harder; both of them on your clit at once — Shoko’s tongue sloppy and relentless, Mikasa’s fingers precise and mean.

Your whole body locks up. Thighs shaking, back arching so hard your head thumps back against Shoko’s shoulder. You’re babbling, nonsense, pleas, their names — voice cracking on every syllable.

Shoko pulls her mouth off just long enough to growl against your cunt, “Come on, princess. Give it to us. Soak my fucking face.”

Mikasa bites down on your nipple sharp, perfectly it stings, and rubs your clit faster.

You break.

The orgasm hits like a slap, it's hard and sudden, blinding your control. You scream, hips grinding down onto Shoko’s tongue and fingers while Mikasa keeps sucking, keeps rubbing, drawing it out until you’re twitching, overstimulated till tears prick your lashes.

They don’t stop.

Shoko keeps fingering you through it, slower now, but deep, milking every aftershock while her tongue laps gently at your oversensitive clit.

Mikasa switches to soft, open-mouthed kisses across your chest, murmuring “good girl, such a good fucking girl” against your skin.

You’re a mess, sweaty and trembling, pussy clenching around nothing now that Shoko’s finally pulled her fingers out, only to replace them with her tongue again, slow and soothing but still hungry.

Shoko pulls back just enough to press a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to the small of your back.

“Think you can take another one, baby?” she asks, voice all smoke and promise. “’Cause we’re nowhere near done with this pretty pussy.”

Mikasa’s hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so she can kiss you sweet, tasting like your own skin.

“Say yes,” she whispers against your lips.

Your head’s spinning. Body still buzzing.

But your mouth moves on its own.

“…yes.”

Shoko’s finally peeled herself off your back, skin flushed and glistening with sweat and your slick. She kicks off her ripped black jeans in one impatient shove, fishnets still clinging to her thighs like torn webs, then shimmies out of her soaked black thong, tossing it somewhere near your discarded shorts. She crawls backward up the bed until her shoulders hit the headboard, legs spreading wide, shameless. Her cunt’s already shiny, swollen lips parted just enough to show how wet she got from wrecking you.

She pats her own thigh once, lazy smirk curling.

“Bring that pretty cunt over here, princess.”

Her voice is wrecked, husky and demanding, dripping with that mean-girl sweetness that makes your stomach flip. You’re still shaking from the last orgasm, thighs slick down to your knees, but your body moves before your brain catches up. Crawling forward on all fours, ass in the air, tits swaying with every inch closer.

Mikasa’s right there with you silent and waiting, already shifting so she’s kneeling beside Shoko’s hip, dark hair falling over one shoulder like ink. She doesn’t say anything. Just watches you straddle Shoko’s face backward, knees bracketing Shoko’s head, your dripping pussy hovering right over her waiting mouth.

Shoko doesn’t wait for you to lower yourself. Her hands clamp onto your hips as her nails dig in and she yanks you down hard, burying her face in your cunt like she’s starving. Tongue plunging straight in, fucking you with it immediately, sloppy and relentless. She moans loud into you, the vibration making your arms buckle.

You cry out, forehead dropping to Shoko’s stomach, ass arched high. Perfect position.

Mikasa moves in front, kneeling between Shoko’s spread thighs, hands sliding up those fishnet-covered legs to push them wider. She doesn’t tease. Just leans down and drags her tongue flat from Shoko’s entrance to her clit in one long, slow stripe. Shoko’s hips jerk up off the bed.

“Fuck…yeah mhm- just like that,” Shoko gasps against your pussy, words muffled because her mouth never leaves you. She’s eating you like it’s oxygen, sucking your clit, tongue-fucking in deep, then pulling back just to spit on your hole and watch it drip before diving back in.

You can’t just watch. You drop lower, face hovering over Shoko’s cunt now, nose brushing Mikasa’s cheek as you both work her. You spit first, a thick, messy glob right onto Shoko’s clit, watching it glisten even more. Then you lean in and kiss Mikasa around it, open-mouthed, tongues sliding together over Shoko’s swollen nub. Sloppy and wet, sharing the taste of her while your lips brush and suck at the same sensitive spot.

Shoko’s thighs tremble around Mikasa’s head. Her hands on your ass squeeze harder, spreading you wider so she can get deeper, tongue curling inside you, nose grinding against your clit with every thrust of her face. She’s fucking masochistic about it, grinding her own hips up into your mouth and Mikasa’s at the same time, chasing the overstimulation like she needs to be ruined too.

You pull back just enough to spit again, messy strings connecting your lips to Shoko’s cunt, then dive back in, sucking her clit hard while Mikasa’s tongue pushes inside her, fucking her slow and deep. Your tongues meet again over Shoko’s folds, kissing filthy around her, swapping spit and slick, moaning into each other’s mouths while Shoko writhes underneath you both.

Shoko’s losing it. Her hips buck wild, grinding up into your face, into Mikasa’s. She’s whimpering now the sounds high and broken, muffled by your pussy, still eating you like her life depends on it. One hand leaves your ass to tangle in Mikasa’s hair, shoving her face deeper.

“Don’t — don’t stop…fuck, make me come on your tongues —”

You obey and suck harder, letting Mikasa take the lead on fucking Shoko’s hole with her tongue while you focus on the clit, flicking fast, then flattening your tongue to lap broad and messy.

Mikasa’s free hand slides up to pinch Shoko’s nipple hard, twisting just enough to make Shoko arch off the bed with a choked scream.

That’s it.

Shoko comes hard, her whole body locking, thighs clamping around Mikasa’s head, hips grinding up into your mouth in frantic little jerks. She’s soaking, slick coating your chin, Mikasa’s lips, dripping down her own thighs. Her tongue never stops on you though; if anything it gets sloppier, more desperate, like she’s trying to drag you over the edge with her.

You’re close again, pussy clenching around nothing while Shoko tongue-fucks you through her own orgasm. Mikasa pulls back just long enough to murmur against Shoko’s still-twitching cunt,

“Our turn to make her scream next.”

Shoko laughs breathless and wrecked, then yanks your hips down harder, sealing her mouth over your clit and sucking like she wants to pull your soul out of you.

You’re not getting off this ride until they say so.

And they’re nowhere near done.

Your knees dig into the mattress on either side of Shoko’s head, thighs already quivering like they might give out any second. Shoko’s hands are locked around the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping your cunt pressed flush to her mouth, no escape, no mercy. Her tongue is still buried deep, slow lazy thrusts now that your last orgasm has left you dripping and hypersensitive, every flick making your hips jerk involuntarily.

Mikasa shifts in front of you, kneeling tall between Shoko’s spread legs so she’s face-to-face with you, dark eyes locked on yours like she’s reading every twitch, every flutter of your lashes. Her hands find your hips, palms cool and grip firm, steadying you exactly where she wants you.

She doesn’t speak at first. Just starts guiding.

Slow rolls at first, pulling your hips back so your clit drags along the flat of Shoko’s tongue, then pushing forward again so Shoko’s nose nudges your entrance and her lips seal around you. The motion is controlled, deliberate, like Mikasa’s using your body to fuck Shoko’s face for her own pleasure.

You whimper out, it's high and broken as your head tips forward until your forehead rests against Mikasa’s shoulder. Every grind sends sparks up your spine; you’re so overstimulated that even the softest pressure feels like too much, clit throbbing, walls fluttering around nothing while Shoko’s tongue keeps lapping slow and greedy.

Mikasa feels it, the way your thighs start to shake harder, the tiny sobs catching in your throat, the way your nails dig into her arms like you’re holding on for dear life.

She softens.

Her grip loosens just enough to cradle instead of command. One hand slides up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast in a gentle sweep, while the other stays on your hip, still guiding, but slower now, shallower rocks that let you catch your breath against Shoko’s relentless mouth.

Shoko hums low approval into your cunt, the vibration spreading through you but doesn’t push. Just keeps her tongue flat and still for a second, letting you grind at your own pace while Mikasa holds you steady.

Mikasa tilts your chin up with two fingers.

Your eyes meet hers, watery and dazed, pupils blown wide.

She leans in slow.

The kiss is nothing like before.

Soft and sweet, lips brushing yours like she’s handling something fragile. No tongue at first, just the gentle press, the warmth of her mouth, the faint taste of Shoko still lingering on both of you. She kisses the corner of your mouth, then the other, then seals her lips over yours properly, slow and languid, swallowing the tiny whimpers you can’t hold back.

Her hand cups your jaw now, thumb stroking your cheekbone while she kisses you deeper, but still gentle, still careful. Tongues touching just the tips and then sliding together in lazy, comforting strokes. You melt into it, body going pliant between them; hips still rocking shallow on Shoko’s face, but the frantic edge is gone, replaced by something warmer, sweeter.

Shoko’s tongue gives one last slow drag from your entrance to your clit soft and soothing, before she pulls back just enough to breathe against your folds.

“Pretty baby,” she murmurs, voice muffled and wrecked. “You’re doing so good for us.”

Mikasa breaks the kiss only to rest her forehead against yours, noses brushing.

“Still with us?” she whispers, lips grazing yours with every word.

You nod small…shaky, lips tingling from her sweetness.

Her lips curve into a rare smile, it's soft and just for you, she kisses you again. Once, then twice, little pecks of her lips that make your chest ache in the best way.

Shoko’s hands slide up to rub slow circles on your thighs, grounding and possessive.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Mikasa murmurs against your mouth, “we’ll keep going. Or we can just stay like this.”

Her fingers thread through your hair, cradling the back of your head.

Shoko presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, then another…then one last gentle lick along your slit, cleaning you up without pushing for more.

You’re caught between them; Shoko’s warm mouth still so close, Mikasa’s steady hands and sweeter kisses holding you together.

For the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel like they’re trying to break you.

It feels like they’re keeping you.

Mikasa’s still got you, her hands steady on your hips, thumbs stroking slow arcs over the sensitive skin there like she’s reminding you she’s not letting go. Your forehead rests against her collarbone, breaths coming in shaky little puffs, body humming with the aftershocks that won’t quite fade.

Under you, Shoko shifts.

She plants her palms on the mattress and pushes herself up slow and carefully, until her face is level with your hips again and presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of one hipbone, then the other. Warm lips, gentle suction, little nips that make you twitch without hurting, her tongue traces lazy patterns over the faint red marks her nails left earlier, soothing them like an apology.

“C’mere, princess,” she murmurs against your skin, voice all smoke and velvet now, no edge, just warmth.

Mikasa helps and together they guide you down gently and unhurried, until your back hits the cool sheets. You sink into them with a soft exhale, legs falling open naturally, body too spent to fight gravity anymore. Shoko settles on your left, Mikasa on your right, bracketing you like they’re afraid you’ll float away if they don’t keep you grounded.

They don’t rush.

Mikasa leans in first, her lips brushing the swell of your breast, soft and lovingly. She kisses the underside, then circles the nipple with slow, wet drags of her tongue before taking it into her mouth. Not sucking hard this time. Just nursing on you with soft, gentle pulls, tongue laving in lazy circles, like she’s savoring every tiny shiver she pulls from you.

Shoko mirrors her on the other side. Kisses the soft skin just above your nipple, then closes her lips around it slowly, tender suctions that match Mikasa’s rhythm perfectly. Their mouths work in tandem; one pulls while the other soothes with little kitten licks, then they switch their rhythm without breaking contact. Your back arches just a little on instinct, not desperation and they both hum approvals against your skin.

Their free hands slide down together.

Fingers intertwine over your mound first, Shoko’s pinky brushing Mikasa’s then they separate, slipping lower. Mikasa’s fingers find your clit, two of them pressing soft, slow circles, barely any pressure, just enough to keep the sparks flickering. Shoko’s, slide through your folds, gathering the slick that’s still leaking out of you then pushes inside, her two fingers curling gently against that spot that makes your toes curl.

No slapping…no stretching, they're tender now.

Just soft, steady rhythm, fingers moving in perfect sync, building you up slow like they’ve got all night. Mikasa’s thumb joins her fingers on your clit now, rubbing in tiny, patient circles while Shoko’s fingers stroke inside you deep and unhurried, pressing just right every time.

You’re whimpering soft, breathy sounds that melt into their mouths when they lean up to kiss you in turns. First Mikasa’s slow and sweet, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s drinking you in and Shoko's lazier, filthier, but still gentle, lips catching every little gasp.

They talk to you between kisses, quiet, murmured praises that sinks into your bones.

“So pretty when you let go like this…”

“Feel how wet you still are for us, baby…”

“Good girl… just like that… let it build slowly…”

Your hips roll up into their hands with lazy, needy little rocks and they match you, never rushing, never pushing too hard. The pleasure coils tighter, warmer, different this time, not a violent snap, but a slow, rolling wave that starts in your toes and spreads upward like honey.

When it finally crests, it’s soft. Deep. Your whole body shudders with long, trembling pulses that make you clench around Shoko’s fingers, clit throbbing under Mikasa’s thumb. You come with a quiet, broken moan, your mouth open against Mikasa’s shoulder, tears slipping down your temples because it feels so much without hurting.

They don’t stop right away.

They ease you through it, fingers slowing to gentle strokes, thumbs brushing feather-light over your clit until the aftershocks fade to little flutters. Then they pull out slow, careful, and bring their slick fingers up to trace lazy patterns over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, like they’re painting you with the evidence of how good you were for them.

Mikasa kisses your temple. Shoko nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your pulse.

They stay like that, bodies pressed close, hands roaming soft and possessive, mouths leaving little kisses wherever they land.

No more teasing words. No more mean edges.

Just the three of you tangled in the sheets, breathing each other in, soft and quiet and sated.

Shoko’s the first to break the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Let us stay the night?” 

Mikasa’s arm tightens around your waist.

You don’t even have to answer.

You already know you don't want them going anywhere.

Sukuna frowned, slipping his box of cigarettes in his back pocket. "Hell nah. It was like a dollar extra." 

"It's whatever," Choso interrupted. The last he needed was his two bandmates getting into an argument. "People are starting to come."  Soon enough, a crowd began to form around the quad, students visiting the booths of interest. 

You walked around with you low heels clicking on the ground. Definitely not the best choice of attire but it was you.  A vintage Von Dutch purse was sat right on your shoulder, swinging with every step. 

"Whatever happened to the fashion club?" You asked between chewing your bubble gum. Shoko lifted her head from her phone, confused at your question. "Girl, you made them disband. Remember?" 

You let out an 'ohhh' as if you found out mind blowing news. 

"Not my fault they were so poorly uneducated on Vivienne Westwood. Did they seriously have the audacity to ignore the fact that she was punk? What the hell were they on about saying that the brand was for clean girlies? Ummm hellooooo?" You raised a brow that was recently threaded.

"Right.. anyways." Shoko looked around, eyes setting on the medical club. "I'll be right back, I have to go sign up." 

You nodded, blowing a goodbye kiss. 

There weren't any new organizations this year that you know of other than the one your ex boyfriend was apart of. The sight of him just made you want to role your eyes. 

The asshole had broken up with you over text and is going around saying you were the one who broke up with him. 

Like, who the hell even does that? 

You pushed yourself deeper into the crowd, making your way towards the heart of the quad. 

"Music club is over here guys!" Choso yelled out as he handed people flyers. "We will be meeting on the second Monday of every month. Feel free to recommend us to your friends!"

Usually, you'd ignore anything that has to do with music. Not your forte. 

But the washed out print on his shirt caught your eye. 

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. 

That's the album you listened to non stop in your high school years. Your iPod was full with every version of it. The original, the demos, and even Live in Denver. 

You listened to it so ofter that it burned onto the screen. 

"Cool shirt." The words slipped from your mouth, surprising both you and Choso. 

Because no way was a girl like you complimenting a boy like him. And over his shirt out of all things. "Uh, thanks." He stuttered, a crooked smile creeping on his lips. 

He darted down to the papers in his hands, offering one to you. 

You hesitated before accepting it. "Music club?" 

Choso nodded. "Yeah, we mostly focus on emo music to be honest but we're always open to do other genres." God was he sweating? It felt like he was. Have you noticed? "You a Panic fan?" 

You hummed, skimming through the small summary of the club. "Not really, just of that album. Well not anymore but high school me." 

"No way. I mean, um, you have a favorite song?" 

"I guess I liked Camisado." 

"Oh shit, I love that one." Choso's eyes brightened. "You know the story behind it?" 

You snorted. "Duh." 

The way you spoke was soft and pretty to him, it made his heart beat like a teenagers. 

"I'm Choso.." He mumbled. 

"Hi Choso." You smiled up at him, exchanging your name as well. "I'll try and come." 

He nodded, gulping. "We'll see you then.."  His eyes stayed on your frame as you disappeared almost in a trance at the sway of your hips. "Suguru." He hit his friends' chest. "Fuck did you see that?" 

"See what?"

"The goddess that just came up to me." 

"Is the heat getting to you man?" Suguru pressed his hand on Choso's forehead, feeling the thin layer of sweat before hurling away in disgust. 

"Surprised you didn't scare her away." 

Choso smacked his shoulder playfully, returning back to distributing the flyers like the local newspaper. That dorky smile still evident on his face. 

That was yesterday though. 

And Choso hasn't shut up about you since. 

"Do you think she'll actually show up to the meetings?" He ran the brush through his hair, undoing any knots made while sleeping. His broad chest was bare, showcasing all his tattoos. And not to mention the nipple piercings. 

Sukuna groaned along with Suguru. "Bro, let it go already. Just cause she spoke to you for less than a minute-" 

"It was over a minute, actually." Choso corrected. 

"It doesn't matter. No offense man, but you're not her type. She dated Toji and they recently broke up. Doubt that she's already trying to get into another relationship." 

Suguru yawned, standing up to grab another beer from the mini fridge. 

"But ay, maybe you can change her." 

A sigh fell from Choso's lips, feeling all of a sudden unmotivated. "She's so pretty." 

"What would you even do if she did end up showing up? Woo her with your guitar skills?"

Choso paused. 

"I mean.. yeah?" 

Another collective groan escaped from the other two. 

this series is a re-upload from pillsatoru , aka me. © https-iso 26'. I do not condone the use of ai. do not make c.ai bots from my fics, translate, repost, or copy any of my works. including theme.

something’s not right. his voice is faint, almost drifting in the smoke. his breath doesn’t settle in like it used to. the strong pulse in his ears, an echo of his soul, is unlike the barely-there rhythm it used to dwell in. his heart trembles the more smoke gets into his nose.

something’s definitely not right with that wanderer either. the infuriated beast was a bit too feisty, but this outcome was not expected with this grade of wanderers, or any, really. thousands of years’ worth of experience, all at his disposal, and yet xavier can’t figure out or do anything about this stupid smoke. irritated, his hand comes over his nose; he doesn’t pause to acknowledge the unusual smoothness of his hands that are often calloused. no time for that.

“can you hear me, (name)?!”

no response comes, which only fuels xavier to keep fanning and move through the blackness. when the smoke finally clears out, he sees them — fingers, relatively smaller fingers, ones that most definitely were not his, just like the hunter’s uniform that now sits on his body. he’s certain that his own uniform did not have this black leather nor a crop top.

his lips part, struggling for a breath. “huh?”

this voice...?

taken aback, he tries to speak again.

“(name)?”

and xavier stops, a conclusion dawning on him quickly. why does he sound so much like you? he missteps on a broken crate; the crack is loud enough to startle him, goosebumps shooting up his arms, cold finding place in his limbs that felt too small.

he looks down at his body.

why does he look so much like you?

his ears, slowly recovering from the sound waves from the protocurves, adjust to the receding levels. soon, he hears his own voice somewhere in the warehouse, more specifically, calls of his name.

this wasn’t a... dream?

“xavier?”

a few footsteps thump against the cemented floor of the abandoned warehouse, causing xavier to look up. it is indeed his own voice calling his name. the lingering smoke curves around a figure he wakes up to see every day in a mirror: it’s you who finally step out of a hidden corner, or was it even you? xavier has never seen himself look so meek. his body looks unusually tight, like joints bending to a gravity that suddenly feels too strong. his face mimics a frown, no doubt your doing.

“that... wanderer?” he sees you look around, silver hair gleaming in the dusk light. is that how his hair usually looks? you return to him, blue eyes piercing enough — his blue eyes.

“i-i think it got away.”

this can’t be...

xavier wills himself to say. “u-unfortunate.”

a mere comment, he can’t even force anything out — confirmation, consolation. his throat is wrapping around something prickly the moment he hears himself speak, almost mistaking himself for you instead. he wants to rub at his nape, an urge of an old habit, though he doesn’t know if it’s even appropriate for him in the least; it’s your body after all. he should be ashamed.

“and... this?” you mutter after some time of contemplating. your arms lift and spread to the sides, gesturing to your body — well, his.

“switching bodies? how can this even happen?” your arms flop back down, and the frown on your, or rather his, face deepens. you freeze, the dim light from outside framing your disbelief in an almost cruel manner.

“don’t tell me we are—”

“it must be that wanderer’s doing.”

xavier speaks whatever you must be thinking. perhaps it was the protocurves from that wanderer’s protocore or the black smoke it emitted right before fleeing. he, too, looks around, but for nothing, because seeing the pained expression on your face is too cumbersome for him right now. he can’t believe how he managed to miss the faint spike in the levels. this mistake of his is going to cost too much; the consequences are already here, after all...

your eyes fall to the rotten floor: moldy wood that instantly grosses him out, and prickly grass that would have definitely left rashes on bare skin. he shouldn’t have accepted this mission.

“what do we do now?”

nothing — and xavier says the same to you. he desperately wants to say something else, to ease your mind a little, but he can’t do anything. he stands still, just like you, watching your grip on his blazer that is slowly making his head spin. all he affords in the end is a pull on your hand before he’s leading you back out into the open forest. there’s no other logical choice but to wait until tomorrow morning. the wanderer has long shaken the two of you off its trail, so no point in chasing it, and the association would probably be closing right about now, judging by the way sheer moonlight lands on the ground instead of orangey rays from dusk.

you are silent as he brings you back to the entrance of the warehouse his evol just blasted moments ago. now, he can’t even sense it anymore, nor can he manipulate yours.

he turns to you suddenly. “can you try to use my evol?”

hope flares into something bright. maybe you can, or even teleport the both of you? it should be feasible enough; it is you, after all.

you look at him, bewildered, before slowly lifting a closed fist against your chest, silver eyebrows cinched with concentration. c’mon. c’mon. a few minutes pass, filled with heavy breathing and unspoken prayers, but only dust particles float where a golden light should have begun to shine.

“i... don’t think it will work,” you mutter, the now open fist dropping to your side.

you become silent again, only compelling him to fill in for you. “we’ll have to wait this out then.”

xavier sighs deeply and begins walking again, carefully guiding you through the shattered glass from the windows that line the way to the front gates. the dread that washes over him is unlike anything. this places both of you in a far more vulnerable state than he wants. he needs to get you both home safely now.

“this, uh, effect might wear off soon. i’ll have... jeremiah investigate this.”

xavier bites his lips.

if the florist is even awake at this time, that is...

outside the warehouse, the pale moonlight strikes xavier more vividly. the forest seems to breathe more languidly, making him wonder if another threat was creeping under the green canopy. your hand tugs on his just as you reach your bike, parked right where the main road cuts through the forest. your eyes are glossy, twinkling stars making a home in a familiar blue, but he knows not to comment on them even though the sight of his teary eyes is quite mortifying right now. he hears you inhale sharply, finally looking down at him.

the height difference is weird, too weird; he doesn’t know how you have managed to keep your neck cranked up to even look at him all this time. he gulps. “(name)?”

your eyes fall shut. “please don’t tell anything to anyone.”

you must be feeling incredibly awkward. so he is! truly. the heat in his cheeks says it all. but you don’t know that... your eyes don’t open anytime soon, so xavier steals the chance to look at the sky. it’s a full moon tonight, and he doesn’t like the foreboding it seems to reveal.

he faces you again, repressing a sigh that was pleading for release. “o-of course, don’t worry.”

your eyes finally open, that taunting blue, and you whisper sorry with another tug on his hand, as if you are still not convinced enough. “i... should have been more cautious.”

“i should have been too. it’s not your fault. don’t worry.”

if you think xavier’s angry at you, then you’re wrong. how can he ever be angry at you? he squeezes your hand back with a smile that would calm you, surely.

“okay?”

you nod. “okay.”

he wonders if it felt like looking at a photo for you.

“all right, we should head back now.”

xavier bites down his rumination and encourages you to start your bike with a pat on your... broad shoulders.

it’s going to be a long night.

“xavier!”

“(name)—” he stops the elevator doors with his foot. “what’s wrong?”

the heel of your shoes is beginning to hurt his ankles. he is definitely going to file a complaint with hr for a change in the uniforms once everything returns to normal. you, on the other hand, seem to walk just fine, as you come before the open elevator again, your hands clasped together, that same cinched expression on your face.

your energy has been off ever since the two of you came back. the ride home wasn’t anything memorable, apart from the times you accidentally bent on a corner more than what should be considered safe. his eyes fall to your shoes, his choice for today. xavier gets it; it’s strange walking, breathing in a body not yours, let alone riding a bike.

no accidents or attacks happened, fortunately. that should have been fine and soothed whatever dread he was feeling back in that warehouse, but what he doesn’t understand is the tightness he’s beginning to feel in his abdomen. the feeling is familiar, little beats of heat that lingered right on the cusp of remembering before vanishing before he could connect the dots. not dread, of course not.

xavier licks his lips, your taste more rich, while your own lips part:

“can you... stay the night? at my apartment, i mean?”

your voice trembles with a rasp, taking him back to the moments when he’s just woken up. his gaze moves up, from the thigh straps he usually wore to the high neck of his black turtleneck peeking underneath your neck. are you feeling those little beats of heat too? he asks himself. is that why you are asking for him? not as a friend, but something entirely different. he blinks and remains silent for some seconds, listening to your unusually slow breaths. the elevator begins to close once again, before xavier places his foot in between the doors once more.

“are you sure?”

his concern shouldn’t have been forced. he eyes the tight bite of your lips this time. whatever is going on with you, he’s sure he’s not going to last against it much longer. how can he though? he questions himself again before saying, his voice low:

“i don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or do anything... inappropriate.”

inappropriate. xavier stretches the word more than enough — enough for you to finally see the stakes.

your eyes widen immediately. “no! no—”

you finally speak, or rather, yell, pearly white teeth letting go of the plush, pink skin. he sees your hands shoot up, reaching for him through the elevator, not caring about the dinging light or the opening and closing doors stopped by his foot. someone must be waiting on some other floor, but he wishes to stay here, in this small metallic box, for a while longer.

“oh? what is it then, (name)?”

his voice is already teetering on a tone he’s aimed at you more times than he can count. however, considering the tricky situation right now, xavier isn’t sure if you can even catch the flirty notes when it is your own voice. or... his gaze narrows.

“i-i just don’t want anything bad to happen!”

a familiar red seeps into your cheeks, making his breath hitch. apparently, you can — like, you know, like you’ll find him, and his little quirks, and his soul no matter the skin he’s wearing, no matter what. you refuse to meet his gaze and turn around, making him more laden with want than worry.

“please? i am just... worried. that’s all.” you look over your shoulder.

xavier can barely hear your pleas with your back facing him, but he yields anyway, not that he won’t. he steps off the elevator, reaching for your big hand that seems to radiate heat — a familiar kind that is already making waves inside him.

“all right.”

another easy smile for you, as he rubs his thumb on your knuckles, hoping you’d repay him. and you do, albeit a small one, but it’s enough for him.

at last, he can name the familiar feeling within him, even if it comes at the expense of his dignity. it’s difficult to discern if your worry is also just protecting something far more carnal, but he wishes it is anyway; it’s selfish of him, but he needs you to, just so he can condemn his... licentiousness a bit easier, with a little less guilt. the shame from being in your body and having these just as animalistic thoughts and urges hasn’t left him yet, but this old feeling wearing a new facade is more than enough to keep it hidden deep within his mind, leaving it to rot until the daylight comes — when mistakes become realizations.

mistakes xavier hopes he is allowed to make tonight. and realizations xavier hopes you’ll kneel into too.

“let’s go then.”

xavier can’t help but chuckle quietly at your endearing and hasty nods. your footsteps are the only thing echoing through the hallway this late. you have him following you, his small hand engulfed in your big one, as you pull and pull, almost afraid he might change his mind in a second. perhaps you have yet to become aware of the strength of his body, but xavier believes the reminders are not needed right now.

the skin on his wrist might already be blooming with red fingerprints by the time you realize and let go, and he would be lying if it didn’t make his head spin a little faster and his thighs clench. he really needs to be more gentle with you from now on, huh?

“uh—” you stop suddenly, making him bump his forehead against your back. “sorry!” a faint buzzing accompanies your apology.

“it’s okay.”

xavier instantly notices the red glowing light of your finger pad just past your waist. the sensor buzzes again, letting you both know xavier’s fingerprints are unfortunately not added to the system. he bites the inside of his cheek, another familiar feeling making a home in him once again.

why haven’t you added him yet?

“you should add mine too,” he mutters, pulling on your hand.

xavier feels almost, almost upset that you still haven’t entertained the quite intimate idea. the pout on his lips makes itself known even before he can twist it into something far more vexing. you should feel bad, you know? he will die if you won’t.

“all right, all right, can you just—”

your eyes point to the glowing button before flickering back to his totally cutesy pout. “we should probably get inside first.”

“hmm...” xavier feigns understanding as you step out of the way. he lifts one hand toward you, slightly wiggling his fingers. small, still, but... he is sure he can make good use of them. soon enough.

“which one?” his lips purse again.

you ignore him this time. “the thumb, please.”

he nods, trying to hold in his disbelief. your thumb fits perfectly inside the little gap, making him wonder if his could if he tried hard enough. he didn’t know the apartment building also provided custom locks; is this a sign for him to ditch the old-school locks and keys? the button stops glowing before flashing green as a ding fills the silence.

xavier would definitely add your fingerprints to his lock.

“there.” he twists the doorknob and motions toward the ajar door. his head drops slightly, and he thanks your haircut for hiding the sneaky smirk creeping on his lips.

“xavier?” you whisper his name.

why? why? how can his own voice make him hot in the head? are you doing this intentionally? he lifts, eyes ready to pull yours into alluring depths awaiting right behind your apartment’s door.

“c’mon in, your majesty.” he knocks at the door twice.

“wha—”

a flurry of hits instantly land on his shoulder in an attempt to distract him from the blush on your cheeks. he bites down on his lips, ignoring the muscles twitching with pain; your shyness only enticing him further.

“perhaps your majesty would prefer to be carried instead?”

“oh, shut up, xavier!”

another slap, right on his chest. it hurts more than he likes to admit. maybe he should let you know to take it easy while being in his body...

he smiles as you rush past him, finally happy to be home where no one can hurt you. “be careful.”

inside, the faint smell of your perfume greets him — the same one you must have been wearing before things happened. after the incident, and of course being nowhere near as logical or lucid, xavier didn’t quite get the chance to take a whiff. at other times, he would have sniffed you out like a dog when you’d come sauntering to the association, whether it be from his desk or just standing behind you in front of the vending machine.

don’t mind that he couldn’t before, because now, as you sit and bend in the entryway, xavier is finally getting his full fill. he is begging the scent to remain locked inside him forever. this soft musk, nectar of white roses blended with something raw and sweat — this scent that only belonged to you.

xavier inhales deeply. he wants it all. all of you.

in front of him, you take off his shoes in silence, and so does he: those nettlesome heeled boots that have given your poor, poor feet a lesson not to be forgotten. how can you hunt in them daily? they slide off the ankles smoothly, and he drops them onto the floor right beside his. your skin is pulsing; he can feel the swelling cushion his weight as he tries to get used to flat ground again. a weary, unrecognizable sound escapes him, causing you to hum in question.

“my feet — i mean your feet...” he points to the reddened limbs. “those heels are serious trouble.”

you blink and look down at his feet instead: no swelling or anything. “i usually just shower after work — the cold water helps a lot with the swelling!”

xavier stills, lust fogging his mind once more. he stutters. “t-that’s—”

shower? are you telling him to shower? in your body? really, he doesn’t mind, but won’t that make you... he can’t even look at you now, not when he’s feeling himself fucking leak at the suggestion of such a tantalizing experience.

is this how it feels for you?

a sniff pulls him gently back to reality. you look up at him, oblivious to the commotion happening inside him. “really, it would feel amazing afterward!”

are you being dense on purpose?

his eyes snap to yours. your head is tilted to the side, confusion lacing everything playful. you must be really, really tired, or were you?

xavier sighs. “(name)...”

this isn’t an invitation of some kind, right?

“are you forgetting... something?” he points to his body and then yours.

you smile sheepishly. “oh, right... maybe another time!”

another time...?

your hums don’t answer anything. you turn around, already heading deeper inside. one more sneaky comment and he’s going to do things he would probably regret.

you skip your shower, and so does he. dinner was takeout: ready-to-eat hotpot kits (it’s a staple for him at this point, and xavier’s not ashamed in the slightest) and some ice cream because, apparently, you were going to make his body crave it like no other.

“it doesn’t work like that—”

the ice cream is freezing as it licks up his teeth and the insides of his cheeks. he shouldn’t have bitten down...

“why not?” you ask before sneaking a lick of his cone, making him pretend to frown.

“i mean, the fact you are in my body is proof enough. don’t ya think?” you continue, mirth dripping from each word.

xavier wishes he was, actually.

a boop on your nose pushes you away from his melting ice cream and him. “e-eat before it makes a mess.”

(please don’t notice the clench of his thighs.)

of course, you don’t react to his teasing or comprehend the implications of your offhand words. you have his eyes closed as you change his clothes for him, expecting the same from him; he hopes you didn’t hear the hitches in his breath or his fast pulse. after dinner, when the promise of sleep silently awaits in one corner, you only give him two choices: the bed or the couch. xavier would have preferred to sleep beside you, but he’d rather you have a good night’s sleep because he knows you need it.

even if it meant no sleep for him.

as xavier said before: it is going to be a long night.

at eleven ten, he coaxed you into mindless chatter that had no business lasting for twenty minutes — petty drama peddling in the association, or jeremiah’s new inventions that were already causing headaches — but it did for him. just to not let you go, just so he could hold onto you a little longer. at eleven thirty-two, you yelled a good night, xavier, and the door of your bedroom clicked shut, officially separating you from him for hours to come — daunting times where he desperately needs you to be there with him.

the clock is daring to cross one now, and sleep has continued to evade him. outside, barks of a dog — no doubt the same one the whole apartment building takes turns caring for — penetrate the glass of your windows, shooing away what little repose he was beginning to lure in.

your couch barely compares to the one in his own apartment. no, he’s not blaming your design choices, but the cushions are an absolute pathetic excuse, and xavier wants to laugh at them hard. no way he’s going to get even a blink of sleep. this is all part of your plan, isn’t it? to have him come knocking at your door like a dog, soaked after the rain. xavier clenches his thighs again, desperately trying to stop the wetness leaking out. the sensation makes him whine; he can’t just plunge his fingers in there now, can he?

please forgive me.

xavier’s gone. gone, gone.

exhaling deeply, he lifts your night shirt and cups your chest in both hands. god, you are so soft, feeling like silk against silk. his fingers play around with the puckered buds, all the while glancing at the corner of the hallway in case you decide to sneak up on him. he slowly glides one hand down the stomach, lingering on the abdomen, feeling and caressing the skin he’s longed to touch for centuries. and he can’t help the moan.

hearing your voice coming out of him turns him on. more and more. the shorts are pushed to the knees quickly, and he doesn’t waste time sliding one hand into your panties. the only remaining light that graces his vision is the lamp you left on out of courtesy. the golden light laps at the expanse of your thighs, finally letting him see your body in clarity.

fuck, xavier breathes out, immediately letting his fingers trace around the pulsing opening. he does exactly what he has always wanted to do to you. beginning with a slow swirl around the clit, not quite touching but enough for him to feel a phantom of it hypnotize him. with his breath lagging, he collects the slickness pooling out of your pussy, making sure to coat his middle finger well, and gently nudges it past the fluttering muscles.

fuck it.

instantly, he feels your walls clamp down on the intrusion. the insane heat of them makes his mouth fall open, voice strangling in a knot somewhere deep in your throat. another finger pokes at the entrance, eager to join in the fun, and your walls have no choice but to accommodate more and more. his movements are sloppy — as to be expected. xavier is none other than a novice at this very moment, after all.

sweat beads on his forehead, carrying with it a salty taste as it drips into his agape mouth. the pace he picks is relentless. he should be more careful, more gentle, as he loves your body, but he can’t. lust is the only drive in him right now; he just can’t. he’s already becoming adept at pulling your muscles like they were his, and he just can’t contain the urge to experiment and experiment. a flick on your clit, or a pinch that makes his back arch, or even a slow caress on your other puckered hole when the pleasure drove him mad enough.

xavier loves you, he loves your body so much. and he always will.

the sweet, sweet release is more of a tease than the fingers scissoring deep in your pussy; it doesn’t come no matter how much he works his hand. frustration is the last thing xavier wanted to feel right now. alas, your fingers are nowhere near as long as his. if it were his own, he would have easily reached far deeper than what yours are allowing him right now. disgust rises in him, but it’s too late. it’s almost humiliating to admit that he’s downright begging to feel his own length slide right in, feel it harden and pump through the pliant muscles of your walls.

xavier mewls. the filthy thoughts of being fucked by himself cloud his mind, bringing on a feeling estranged yet slightly familiar — one welcomed nevertheless, one he wanted regardless.

i am sorry, (name).

another groan cuts through the tranquility of your living room, and the pressure simmering throughout today finally erupts. the barking dies out in the ringing in his ears, and the orgasm wrecks him, your body, in ways he didn’t know were possible. those little beats of heat now felt like molten fire as they spread from his core, circulating through his body. like a disassembled doll, xavier remains flat on the couch, unmoving except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest. the dull pleasure slowly dissipates in his nerves, only to leave behind the same need that needed to sink its teeth a bit deeper.

he knows this won’t be enough to sate him, at all.

so xavier stands up, his head spinning for a little upon his hurried movements. it’s not long before he’s heading to your bedroom, footsteps creaking against the wooden floor.

should he knock?

a gulp as his hand lifts to rest on the wood, and he waits. a second, then ten more — for something to startle him from behind. you don’t open it for him, and he doesn’t know why he expected you to. his hand finally grabs the knob, and he twists it open.

xavier quietly enters your bedroom without the urgency that brought him to your very door in the first place, and perhaps he knows the reason why. he waddles closer to your bed, the lack of light barely a hindrance for him. seeing you up close makes the gates open again, but now the flow of fervor is tame, because it’s you. he can’t ever bear to be rough with you.

he slips in right beside you, the coldness of the blankets a pleasant surprise for his feverish body. you don’t move an inch as you lie on your side, little snores escaping your lips. the timid moonlight doesn’t do justice to the peace reflected on your face — something he doesn’t want to snatch away from you. he wants you so badly; at the same time, he wants you to want him too.

you will accept him, won’t you, even if it’s him wearing your own skin?

xavier tucks a lone strand behind your ear. his hand cups your cheek, letting his heat permeate the cold skin. his body has always run a bit colder, after all. it would crush him to see his own body hurt you. a pat is all he tests for now as he awaits your impending reaction. when you don’t return to the waking world, xavier tries something bolder. his face lines up to yours, and he presses his lips against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

you see him like a friend, but to him, you’ve always been his everything, forever: from the end of a beginning to the beginning of an end. xavier doesn’t want to label your relationship as mere coworkers or friends or... lovers. it’s just not fair to the two of you. he’s crossing a line here, he knows, but can you even blame him? if only you were aware of everything: the past, his and yours. then you would have understood, right?

like clockwork, you begin to stir awake. it’s the suck of a breath first, one he doesn’t let you claim so easily. his lips move harder against yours when a muffled noise escapes you. when he finally feels you push on his shoulders, he pulls away, already missing you.

“what—” you heave, trying to replace the air he stole from you. “xavier… what are you doing here?”

what does he even say to you?

“did you just...” you gasp. he sees your hand reach up for your lips, feeling the skin he’s been messing with: red and bitten raw. the extra pillow beneath him soaks up any sweat dribbling down his face. the air has changed, hotter; he can feel it melt on him — like salty vapors of a restless sea.

“you should know this by now.” he whispers, hoping you’d hear him.

you blink. “what do you mean?”

“that i am insatiable — that i have been for so long now.”

he moves closer, not paying attention to another gasp of yours. his hand grabs yours immediately and pushes it into your panties. you can feel it, right? the wetness, the mess his fingers had just made moments ago. he stares at your agape mouth, not knowing what you are feeling. your hand doesn’t move, and neither do you, only rendering him breathless.

you don’t want him…?

“please,” he pleads, eyes looking up at you. “i want this. i want you badly.”

you gulp, silver eyelashes fluttering. “xavi—”

“please.”

xavier sits up, completely imprudent by now. he climbs on top of your torso, making sure to press his core right where you should be aching for him. your want doesn’t wish to reveal itself to him right now, but it’s okay. another grind comes, from down to up. another moan sounds from your mouth, which tells him he’s succeeding, slowly but surely. it’s small, subtle, but the bulge only makes him proud for a vile reason; you react well, don’t you? his hips move with a mind of their own, drawing more sounds from you.

“you feel me?” xavier pants from above.

you are beginning to tremble beneath him now, your hand palming his sides. reluctance pulls you by the joints, and your lips break apart, a shudder making you still before you use his own strength to stop him.

“we can’t—”

one more grind just to drive his motives home — one painfully slow for the both of you. he feels your bulge now prod at his moist center, begging for reprieve.

“x-xavier, we can’t do this right now…” you blink up at him.

he tilts his head to the side, letting a smile etch onto his face — one that was definitely more wicked than it looked. “why not?”

“i—”

“you say no…” his one palm slithers in between your bodies, and he presses hard on the pulsing bulge, in essence, trampling over your excuses.

“what’s this, then?”

xavier muffles whatever you were going to say next. his lips are back on yours, licking, sucking, not leaving any skin untouched. you don’t try to push him off this time, in fact quite the opposite. he thinks he might be dreaming as you grind back against him, reciprocating in the way he was wishing you would.

xavier parts from you, and noses against your jaw. “you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“xav—”

his hand moves fast to cup your chin. “no, tell me exactly what it is.”

he sees your eyes close, teeth nibbling your lips. “and if i say yes...”

then they open once more with a blue so fervent it nearly makes him collapse.

“what would that make me?”

sudden affection floods him. he chuckles and gives your cheek a gentle pat. “what do you think?”

a pause hits you before: “just like... you?”

that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?

“just… like.. me.”

another pat lands as your limbs relax beneath him. he asks, “well, do you… want to?”

your eyes widen, and you bite your lips again. he patiently waits even though the bulge pressing against him is yelling at him to do something, quick. because your word is all that matters. xavier hopes you know he would get off you this very moment if you so desired.

but, of course, you don’t.

“i want to.”

you want him too.

xavier smiles, a genuine one for this hectic night. “i know.”

soon, he’s pawing at the waistband of the sweatpants he guided your legs through hours ago. you don’t hesitate this time as he pulls them off you in one single go. it’s you who paws at his boxers next, muttering something that sounds awfully close to a “please.” the word is drawn out in his husky voice, as if you’d finally learned to manipulate his vocal cords for your salacious gains. he does the same with the boxers, throwing them across the room to a forgotten corner before returning above you.

instinct controls him, and he quickly wraps his hand around the hard erection. xavier drinks in your expression, his ministrations making you all the more pliant beneath him — just as he wanted. “how does this feel?”

“i can’t describe—oh!” a moan is ripped out of you when he squeezes slightly.

“strange? weird?”

his eyes meet yours, and you manage a nod, silver hair matted from sweat.

“but familiar…” a smile breaks out on your face.

“you know,” he lets go of the pulsing length, and straddles your lap once more. “i felt the same too.”

“when?”

“when i fucked myself using your fingers.”

“what?!” the shock on your face makes him snort. “is that why you were fucking leaking?!”

his tight grip is back on you, and he’s already guiding the hardness to where he drips.

“it wasn’t enough. i wanted my own fucking dick — so bad.”

xavier lifts, making sure not to break eye contact. “wanted to fuck myself stupid on you.”

a laugh blooms out of you. “you are nasty.”

“never denied that…” xavier bends forward, and pecks your lips.

“so… you’ll fuck me, right?”

you pull him down fast.

with his breath caught, his eyes are forced shut, drowning out every other sense with only you. your fingers are no match for the wholeness he feels. he knew it already, you know? his dick was always going to be the one to fit so perfectly inside of you, nestled in your welcoming warmth, filling every nook; for him and only him.

“xavier—!” he feels you claw at his thighs.

“i’ll move, d-don’t worry.”

and he does, slowly, up and down, up, down, testing the waters, feeling every sensation, everything he’s been bombarded with: your nails imprinting on his thighs, his hot length molding something deep inside you.

“you like it?”

he’s bouncing now, and he has no idea why he knows how to. the slickness from your mixed fluids is dripping out around the length, as it pools on your lap. the splosh, splosh deafening in the silence you both didn’t occupy. you remove your hands from his waist and cover your eyes, making him laugh sluggishly. his hands stretch across your chest, tweaking with your little, pink nipples. your response is instantaneous in the form of a loud shriek, sharp enough to cut through the tension.

“w-why is your body—ahh! so sensitive?!” you moan out.

“don’t blame m-me, baby…”

xavier leans forward, and he’s kissing you again, almost trying to eat you through your mouth. your tongue barely holds against him as he rubs his against yours, hard and filthy, letting saliva leak from the sides of your connected lips.

the tightness returns to your limbs, however, this time because of an entirely different reason. he can feel it too, a feeling he knows too well: this blazing knot, binding deep inside his abdomen. he’s close, and so are you. he can’t tell where you begin and he ends, and truthfully, xavier doesn’t care. he’d weld himself against you if he could. he’s too lost deep in the pleasure by now, that he’s barely paying attention to how his moans begin to deepen with each strangled whine. the gravity seems to have flipped completely, but xavier blames it on the dick drilling through him.

except, it’s not anymore.

one moment he’s hearing you blabber about how tight he feels, and the very next, it’s him feeling that same tightness around him. huh…? he tries to stop his bouncing, only to find out he’s not the one doing that now. his eyes snap open, and he freezes. it’s you, and your face, and your body he sees above him; your thighs on the sides of his waist, your walls clenching around him instead of the other way around.

oh.

he pinches at your thigh. “(name).”

“no,” you whisper, your voice landing fresh. “i was so close!”

“(name)…” his hands come to grope your behind.

being back in his own body doesn’t elicit the surprise from him xavier was thinking it would. and for you, it doesn’t seem any different either — not surprised, only that you are mourning the release he was going to give you. what should he do now that he’s finally free from a fantasy, only to be trapped in a different one?

you pout, tightening around him again. “you are not going to leave me hanging, xavier.”

“of course… come here.” he smirks.

you lean toward him, immediately catching him in another kiss — a kiss that finally feels normal, like puzzle pieces back in their places. his one hand splays on your back, while the other slides down in between your body, finding that tiny bud that still seemed to pulse.

xavier parts from you, lips sloppy. “you are just as insatiable as me…”

“stop—” his fingers press on your clit, making you shut up.

xavier can’t stop himself now, can’t stop the lewd words falling out of his mouth, or his hips that rush to meet yours halfway.

“look at you, baby…”

“bent over me like this.”

“all spread open for me.”

“so obscene, aren’t you?”

his mouth traps yours in a push and pull again, distracting enough for you that you almost miss the way his dick starts moving inside you.

“oh, xavier… oh~”

“fuck—” xavier stills immediately, trying not to cum at the spot. his arms cage you in against him. “don’t, or i might just…”

“aw, you are so cute.”

a flick lands on your forehead, making you whine. he recollects himself and looks at you one last time, mirroring your amusement.

“i am gonna move, okay?”

a nod from you is all it takes for his hips to start moving again. xavier doesn’t find it hard to thrust into you from below, if anything else, he can feel so much farther in you this way. you begin to gush around him as he continues to piston into you, thrust after thrust, not letting his pace falter even once. he keeps you close to his chest, letting you hear his heartbeat that seems to race just like yours.

the clenches around him never stop for even a second, alongside your sucks and bites on his nipples. xavier knows you are beginning to feel good now.

“touch yourself for me?” he coaxes you gently by patting on your back, meanwhile continuing to fuck you steadily.

“eh—”

the request is sudden but sweet you accept it anyways. xavier stares at you through his sweat-slicked bangs, watching your mouth fall agape, as your fingers try to match with his consistent thrusts.

“f-feeling good?”

a moan escapes you just as he angles his dick slightly, hitting deeper. “so goooood!”

after a few more thrusts, comprehension seems to be lost on you. it’s all blabbering now for you: “xavier, please! xavier, i can’t!”

xavier, i can’t take this! then why are you moving despite telling him not to?

xavier, don’t stop! and yet you cry for his mercy when his ruthlessness overtakes.

you are not the only one out of your mind, however. an impatient roar rises in him also. he, too, seems to balance right on the very edge, and your own release would be all it would take for him to tip over it. you have him thrown so out of his orbit, that he won’t be able to return anytime soon. he suckles on your neck, leaving behind purple hues that will match the ones you gifted on his chest.

you have long since stopped playing with your clit; instead, hold onto him as you hide your face in his neck, licking up any sweat drops that pass by your blurred vision. your voice melts against his ears, your moans more like a melody, he wanted to relish and tune according to his desires.

“xavier—” your imminent warning finally sounds in the heat of it all. his arms tighten their hold on you, and he hears you yell: “i am gonna—!”

“gonna cum? on my cock? yeah, show me, baby.”

and you do, making him feel every single fucking squeeze — complete insanity. it’s damn near impossible to move inside the vise-like grip your pussy has on him. not long after, xavier feels himself spurting inside your hot walls as his thick cum drips out of your poor hole in globs.

xavier’s undone all the way to the soul.

a few minutes pass with you slumped atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

“that was…”

no further words leave you, but xavier already knows everything. he smiles as you nuzzle against his cheek.

the need has finally sunk its teeth.

with this, xavier has taken absolutely everything from you in every sense.

(and he needs to keep that wanderer around for… ahem, research purposes.)

something’s not right. his voice is faint, almost drifting in the smoke. his breath doesn’t settle in like it used to. the strong pulse in his ears, an echo of his soul, is unlike the barely-there rhythm it used to dwell in. his heart trembles the more smoke gets into his nose.

something’s definitely not right with that wanderer either. the infuriated beast was a bit too feisty, but this outcome was not expected with this grade of wanderers, or any, really. thousands of years’ worth of experience, all at his disposal, and yet xavier can’t figure out or do anything about this stupid smoke. irritated, his hand comes over his nose; he doesn’t pause to acknowledge the unusual smoothness of his hands that are often calloused. no time for that.

“can you hear me, (name)?!”

no response comes, which only fuels xavier to keep fanning and move through the blackness. when the smoke finally clears out, he sees them — fingers, relatively smaller fingers, ones that most definitely were not his, just like the hunter’s uniform that now sits on his body. he’s certain that his own uniform did not have this black leather nor a crop top.

his lips part, struggling for a breath. “huh?”

this voice...?

taken aback, he tries to speak again.

“(name)?”

and xavier stops, a conclusion dawning on him quickly. why does he sound so much like you? he missteps on a broken crate; the crack is loud enough to startle him, goosebumps shooting up his arms, cold finding place in his limbs that felt too small.

he looks down at his body.

why does he look so much like you?

his ears, slowly recovering from the sound waves from the protocurves, adjust to the receding levels. soon, he hears his own voice somewhere in the warehouse, more specifically, calls of his name.

this wasn’t a... dream?

“xavier?”

a few footsteps thump against the cemented floor of the abandoned warehouse, causing xavier to look up. it is indeed his own voice calling his name. the lingering smoke curves around a figure he wakes up to see every day in a mirror: it’s you who finally step out of a hidden corner, or was it even you? xavier has never seen himself look so meek. his body looks unusually tight, like joints bending to a gravity that suddenly feels too strong. his face mimics a frown, no doubt your doing.

“that... wanderer?” he sees you look around, silver hair gleaming in the dusk light. is that how his hair usually looks? you return to him, blue eyes piercing enough — his blue eyes.

“i-i think it got away.”

this can’t be...

xavier wills himself to say. “u-unfortunate.”

a mere comment, he can’t even force anything out — confirmation, consolation. his throat is wrapping around something prickly the moment he hears himself speak, almost mistaking himself for you instead. he wants to rub at his nape, an urge of an old habit, though he doesn’t know if it’s even appropriate for him in the least; it’s your body after all. he should be ashamed.

“and... this?” you mutter after some time of contemplating. your arms lift and spread to the sides, gesturing to your body — well, his.

“switching bodies? how can this even happen?” your arms flop back down, and the frown on your, or rather his, face deepens. you freeze, the dim light from outside framing your disbelief in an almost cruel manner.

“don’t tell me we are—”

“it must be that wanderer’s doing.”

xavier speaks whatever you must be thinking. perhaps it was the protocurves from that wanderer’s protocore or the black smoke it emitted right before fleeing. he, too, looks around, but for nothing, because seeing the pained expression on your face is too cumbersome for him right now. he can’t believe how he managed to miss the faint spike in the levels. this mistake of his is going to cost too much; the consequences are already here, after all...

your eyes fall to the rotten floor: moldy wood that instantly grosses him out, and prickly grass that would have definitely left rashes on bare skin. he shouldn’t have accepted this mission.

“what do we do now?”

nothing — and xavier says the same to you. he desperately wants to say something else, to ease your mind a little, but he can’t do anything. he stands still, just like you, watching your grip on his blazer that is slowly making his head spin. all he affords in the end is a pull on your hand before he’s leading you back out into the open forest. there’s no other logical choice but to wait until tomorrow morning. the wanderer has long shaken the two of you off its trail, so no point in chasing it, and the association would probably be closing right about now, judging by the way sheer moonlight lands on the ground instead of orangey rays from dusk.

you are silent as he brings you back to the entrance of the warehouse his evol just blasted moments ago. now, he can’t even sense it anymore, nor can he manipulate yours.

he turns to you suddenly. “can you try to use my evol?”

hope flares into something bright. maybe you can, or even teleport the both of you? it should be feasible enough; it is you, after all.

you look at him, bewildered, before slowly lifting a closed fist against your chest, silver eyebrows cinched with concentration. c’mon. c’mon. a few minutes pass, filled with heavy breathing and unspoken prayers, but only dust particles float where a golden light should have begun to shine.

“i... don’t think it will work,” you mutter, the now open fist dropping to your side.

you become silent again, only compelling him to fill in for you. “we’ll have to wait this out then.”

xavier sighs deeply and begins walking again, carefully guiding you through the shattered glass from the windows that line the way to the front gates. the dread that washes over him is unlike anything. this places both of you in a far more vulnerable state than he wants. he needs to get you both home safely now.

“this, uh, effect might wear off soon. i’ll have... jeremiah investigate this.”

xavier bites his lips.

if the florist is even awake at this time, that is...

outside the warehouse, the pale moonlight strikes xavier more vividly. the forest seems to breathe more languidly, making him wonder if another threat was creeping under the green canopy. your hand tugs on his just as you reach your bike, parked right where the main road cuts through the forest. your eyes are glossy, twinkling stars making a home in a familiar blue, but he knows not to comment on them even though the sight of his teary eyes is quite mortifying right now. he hears you inhale sharply, finally looking down at him.

the height difference is weird, too weird; he doesn’t know how you have managed to keep your neck cranked up to even look at him all this time. he gulps. “(name)?”

your eyes fall shut. “please don’t tell anything to anyone.”

you must be feeling incredibly awkward. so he is! truly. the heat in his cheeks says it all. but you don’t know that... your eyes don’t open anytime soon, so xavier steals the chance to look at the sky. it’s a full moon tonight, and he doesn’t like the foreboding it seems to reveal.

he faces you again, repressing a sigh that was pleading for release. “o-of course, don’t worry.”

your eyes finally open, that taunting blue, and you whisper sorry with another tug on his hand, as if you are still not convinced enough. “i... should have been more cautious.”

“i should have been too. it’s not your fault. don’t worry.”

if you think xavier’s angry at you, then you’re wrong. how can he ever be angry at you? he squeezes your hand back with a smile that would calm you, surely.

“okay?”

you nod. “okay.”

he wonders if it felt like looking at a photo for you.

“all right, we should head back now.”

xavier bites down his rumination and encourages you to start your bike with a pat on your... broad shoulders.

it’s going to be a long night.

“xavier!”

“(name)—” he stops the elevator doors with his foot. “what’s wrong?”

the heel of your shoes is beginning to hurt his ankles. he is definitely going to file a complaint with hr for a change in the uniforms once everything returns to normal. you, on the other hand, seem to walk just fine, as you come before the open elevator again, your hands clasped together, that same cinched expression on your face.

your energy has been off ever since the two of you came back. the ride home wasn’t anything memorable, apart from the times you accidentally bent on a corner more than what should be considered safe. his eyes fall to your shoes, his choice for today. xavier gets it; it’s strange walking, breathing in a body not yours, let alone riding a bike.

no accidents or attacks happened, fortunately. that should have been fine and soothed whatever dread he was feeling back in that warehouse, but what he doesn’t understand is the tightness he’s beginning to feel in his abdomen. the feeling is familiar, little beats of heat that lingered right on the cusp of remembering before vanishing before he could connect the dots. not dread, of course not.

xavier licks his lips, your taste more rich, while your own lips part:

“can you... stay the night? at my apartment, i mean?”

your voice trembles with a rasp, taking him back to the moments when he’s just woken up. his gaze moves up, from the thigh straps he usually wore to the high neck of his black turtleneck peeking underneath your neck. are you feeling those little beats of heat too? he asks himself. is that why you are asking for him? not as a friend, but something entirely different. he blinks and remains silent for some seconds, listening to your unusually slow breaths. the elevator begins to close once again, before xavier places his foot in between the doors once more.

“are you sure?”

his concern shouldn’t have been forced. he eyes the tight bite of your lips this time. whatever is going on with you, he’s sure he’s not going to last against it much longer. how can he though? he questions himself again before saying, his voice low:

“i don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or do anything... inappropriate.”

inappropriate. xavier stretches the word more than enough — enough for you to finally see the stakes.

your eyes widen immediately. “no! no—”

you finally speak, or rather, yell, pearly white teeth letting go of the plush, pink skin. he sees your hands shoot up, reaching for him through the elevator, not caring about the dinging light or the opening and closing doors stopped by his foot. someone must be waiting on some other floor, but he wishes to stay here, in this small metallic box, for a while longer.

“oh? what is it then, (name)?”

his voice is already teetering on a tone he’s aimed at you more times than he can count. however, considering the tricky situation right now, xavier isn’t sure if you can even catch the flirty notes when it is your own voice. or... his gaze narrows.

“i-i just don’t want anything bad to happen!”

a familiar red seeps into your cheeks, making his breath hitch. apparently, you can — like, you know, like you’ll find him, and his little quirks, and his soul no matter the skin he’s wearing, no matter what. you refuse to meet his gaze and turn around, making him more laden with want than worry.

“please? i am just... worried. that’s all.” you look over your shoulder.

xavier can barely hear your pleas with your back facing him, but he yields anyway, not that he won’t. he steps off the elevator, reaching for your big hand that seems to radiate heat — a familiar kind that is already making waves inside him.

“all right.”

another easy smile for you, as he rubs his thumb on your knuckles, hoping you’d repay him. and you do, albeit a small one, but it’s enough for him.

at last, he can name the familiar feeling within him, even if it comes at the expense of his dignity. it’s difficult to discern if your worry is also just protecting something far more carnal, but he wishes it is anyway; it’s selfish of him, but he needs you to, just so he can condemn his... licentiousness a bit easier, with a little less guilt. the shame from being in your body and having these just as animalistic thoughts and urges hasn’t left him yet, but this old feeling wearing a new facade is more than enough to keep it hidden deep within his mind, leaving it to rot until the daylight comes — when mistakes become realizations.

mistakes xavier hopes he is allowed to make tonight. and realizations xavier hopes you’ll kneel into too.

“let’s go then.”

xavier can’t help but chuckle quietly at your endearing and hasty nods. your footsteps are the only thing echoing through the hallway this late. you have him following you, his small hand engulfed in your big one, as you pull and pull, almost afraid he might change his mind in a second. perhaps you have yet to become aware of the strength of his body, but xavier believes the reminders are not needed right now.

the skin on his wrist might already be blooming with red fingerprints by the time you realize and let go, and he would be lying if it didn’t make his head spin a little faster and his thighs clench. he really needs to be more gentle with you from now on, huh?

“uh—” you stop suddenly, making him bump his forehead against your back. “sorry!” a faint buzzing accompanies your apology.

“it’s okay.”

xavier instantly notices the red glowing light of your finger pad just past your waist. the sensor buzzes again, letting you both know xavier’s fingerprints are unfortunately not added to the system. he bites the inside of his cheek, another familiar feeling making a home in him once again.

why haven’t you added him yet?

“you should add mine too,” he mutters, pulling on your hand.

xavier feels almost, almost upset that you still haven’t entertained the quite intimate idea. the pout on his lips makes itself known even before he can twist it into something far more vexing. you should feel bad, you know? he will die if you won’t.

“all right, all right, can you just—”

your eyes point to the glowing button before flickering back to his totally cutesy pout. “we should probably get inside first.”

“hmm...” xavier feigns understanding as you step out of the way. he lifts one hand toward you, slightly wiggling his fingers. small, still, but... he is sure he can make good use of them. soon enough.

“which one?” his lips purse again.

you ignore him this time. “the thumb, please.”

he nods, trying to hold in his disbelief. your thumb fits perfectly inside the little gap, making him wonder if his could if he tried hard enough. he didn’t know the apartment building also provided custom locks; is this a sign for him to ditch the old-school locks and keys? the button stops glowing before flashing green as a ding fills the silence.

xavier would definitely add your fingerprints to his lock.

“there.” he twists the doorknob and motions toward the ajar door. his head drops slightly, and he thanks your haircut for hiding the sneaky smirk creeping on his lips.

“xavier?” you whisper his name.

why? why? how can his own voice make him hot in the head? are you doing this intentionally? he lifts, eyes ready to pull yours into alluring depths awaiting right behind your apartment’s door.

“c’mon in, your majesty.” he knocks at the door twice.

“wha—”

a flurry of hits instantly land on his shoulder in an attempt to distract him from the blush on your cheeks. he bites down on his lips, ignoring the muscles twitching with pain; your shyness only enticing him further.

“perhaps your majesty would prefer to be carried instead?”

“oh, shut up, xavier!”

another slap, right on his chest. it hurts more than he likes to admit. maybe he should let you know to take it easy while being in his body...

he smiles as you rush past him, finally happy to be home where no one can hurt you. “be careful.”

inside, the faint smell of your perfume greets him — the same one you must have been wearing before things happened. after the incident, and of course being nowhere near as logical or lucid, xavier didn’t quite get the chance to take a whiff. at other times, he would have sniffed you out like a dog when you’d come sauntering to the association, whether it be from his desk or just standing behind you in front of the vending machine.

don’t mind that he couldn’t before, because now, as you sit and bend in the entryway, xavier is finally getting his full fill. he is begging the scent to remain locked inside him forever. this soft musk, nectar of white roses blended with something raw and sweat — this scent that only belonged to you.

xavier inhales deeply. he wants it all. all of you.

in front of him, you take off his shoes in silence, and so does he: those nettlesome heeled boots that have given your poor, poor feet a lesson not to be forgotten. how can you hunt in them daily? they slide off the ankles smoothly, and he drops them onto the floor right beside his. your skin is pulsing; he can feel the swelling cushion his weight as he tries to get used to flat ground again. a weary, unrecognizable sound escapes him, causing you to hum in question.

“my feet — i mean your feet...” he points to the reddened limbs. “those heels are serious trouble.”

you blink and look down at his feet instead: no swelling or anything. “i usually just shower after work — the cold water helps a lot with the swelling!”

xavier stills, lust fogging his mind once more. he stutters. “t-that’s—”

shower? are you telling him to shower? in your body? really, he doesn’t mind, but won’t that make you... he can’t even look at you now, not when he’s feeling himself fucking leak at the suggestion of such a tantalizing experience.

is this how it feels for you?

a sniff pulls him gently back to reality. you look up at him, oblivious to the commotion happening inside him. “really, it would feel amazing afterward!”

are you being dense on purpose?

his eyes snap to yours. your head is tilted to the side, confusion lacing everything playful. you must be really, really tired, or were you?

xavier sighs. “(name)...”

this isn’t an invitation of some kind, right?

“are you forgetting... something?” he points to his body and then yours.

you smile sheepishly. “oh, right... maybe another time!”

another time...?

your hums don’t answer anything. you turn around, already heading deeper inside. one more sneaky comment and he’s going to do things he would probably regret.

you skip your shower, and so does he. dinner was takeout: ready-to-eat hotpot kits (it’s a staple for him at this point, and xavier’s not ashamed in the slightest) and some ice cream because, apparently, you were going to make his body crave it like no other.

“it doesn’t work like that—”

the ice cream is freezing as it licks up his teeth and the insides of his cheeks. he shouldn’t have bitten down...

“why not?” you ask before sneaking a lick of his cone, making him pretend to frown.

“i mean, the fact you are in my body is proof enough. don’t ya think?” you continue, mirth dripping from each word.

xavier wishes he was, actually.

a boop on your nose pushes you away from his melting ice cream and him. “e-eat before it makes a mess.”

(please don’t notice the clench of his thighs.)

of course, you don’t react to his teasing or comprehend the implications of your offhand words. you have his eyes closed as you change his clothes for him, expecting the same from him; he hopes you didn’t hear the hitches in his breath or his fast pulse. after dinner, when the promise of sleep silently awaits in one corner, you only give him two choices: the bed or the couch. xavier would have preferred to sleep beside you, but he’d rather you have a good night’s sleep because he knows you need it.

even if it meant no sleep for him.

as xavier said before: it is going to be a long night.

at eleven ten, he coaxed you into mindless chatter that had no business lasting for twenty minutes — petty drama peddling in the association, or jeremiah’s new inventions that were already causing headaches — but it did for him. just to not let you go, just so he could hold onto you a little longer. at eleven thirty-two, you yelled a good night, xavier, and the door of your bedroom clicked shut, officially separating you from him for hours to come — daunting times where he desperately needs you to be there with him.

the clock is daring to cross one now, and sleep has continued to evade him. outside, barks of a dog — no doubt the same one the whole apartment building takes turns caring for — penetrate the glass of your windows, shooing away what little repose he was beginning to lure in.

your couch barely compares to the one in his own apartment. no, he’s not blaming your design choices, but the cushions are an absolute pathetic excuse, and xavier wants to laugh at them hard. no way he’s going to get even a blink of sleep. this is all part of your plan, isn’t it? to have him come knocking at your door like a dog, soaked after the rain. xavier clenches his thighs again, desperately trying to stop the wetness leaking out. the sensation makes him whine; he can’t just plunge his fingers in there now, can he?

please forgive me.

xavier’s gone. gone, gone.

exhaling deeply, he lifts your night shirt and cups your chest in both hands. god, you are so soft, feeling like silk against silk. his fingers play around with the puckered buds, all the while glancing at the corner of the hallway in case you decide to sneak up on him. he slowly glides one hand down the stomach, lingering on the abdomen, feeling and caressing the skin he’s longed to touch for centuries. and he can’t help the moan.

hearing your voice coming out of him turns him on. more and more. the shorts are pushed to the knees quickly, and he doesn’t waste time sliding one hand into your panties. the only remaining light that graces his vision is the lamp you left on out of courtesy. the golden light laps at the expanse of your thighs, finally letting him see your body in clarity.

fuck, xavier breathes out, immediately letting his fingers trace around the pulsing opening. he does exactly what he has always wanted to do to you. beginning with a slow swirl around the clit, not quite touching but enough for him to feel a phantom of it hypnotize him. with his breath lagging, he collects the slickness pooling out of your pussy, making sure to coat his middle finger well, and gently nudges it past the fluttering muscles.

fuck it.

instantly, he feels your walls clamp down on the intrusion. the insane heat of them makes his mouth fall open, voice strangling in a knot somewhere deep in your throat. another finger pokes at the entrance, eager to join in the fun, and your walls have no choice but to accommodate more and more. his movements are sloppy — as to be expected. xavier is none other than a novice at this very moment, after all.

sweat beads on his forehead, carrying with it a salty taste as it drips into his agape mouth. the pace he picks is relentless. he should be more careful, more gentle, as he loves your body, but he can’t. lust is the only drive in him right now; he just can’t. he’s already becoming adept at pulling your muscles like they were his, and he just can’t contain the urge to experiment and experiment. a flick on your clit, or a pinch that makes his back arch, or even a slow caress on your other puckered hole when the pleasure drove him mad enough.

xavier loves you, he loves your body so much. and he always will.

the sweet, sweet release is more of a tease than the fingers scissoring deep in your pussy; it doesn’t come no matter how much he works his hand. frustration is the last thing xavier wanted to feel right now. alas, your fingers are nowhere near as long as his. if it were his own, he would have easily reached far deeper than what yours are allowing him right now. disgust rises in him, but it’s too late. it’s almost humiliating to admit that he’s downright begging to feel his own length slide right in, feel it harden and pump through the pliant muscles of your walls.

xavier mewls. the filthy thoughts of being fucked by himself cloud his mind, bringing on a feeling estranged yet slightly familiar — one welcomed nevertheless, one he wanted regardless.

i am sorry, (name).

another groan cuts through the tranquility of your living room, and the pressure simmering throughout today finally erupts. the barking dies out in the ringing in his ears, and the orgasm wrecks him, your body, in ways he didn’t know were possible. those little beats of heat now felt like molten fire as they spread from his core, circulating through his body. like a disassembled doll, xavier remains flat on the couch, unmoving except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest. the dull pleasure slowly dissipates in his nerves, only to leave behind the same need that needed to sink its teeth a bit deeper.

he knows this won’t be enough to sate him, at all.

so xavier stands up, his head spinning for a little upon his hurried movements. it’s not long before he’s heading to your bedroom, footsteps creaking against the wooden floor.

should he knock?

a gulp as his hand lifts to rest on the wood, and he waits. a second, then ten more — for something to startle him from behind. you don’t open it for him, and he doesn’t know why he expected you to. his hand finally grabs the knob, and he twists it open.

xavier quietly enters your bedroom without the urgency that brought him to your very door in the first place, and perhaps he knows the reason why. he waddles closer to your bed, the lack of light barely a hindrance for him. seeing you up close makes the gates open again, but now the flow of fervor is tame, because it’s you. he can’t ever bear to be rough with you.

he slips in right beside you, the coldness of the blankets a pleasant surprise for his feverish body. you don’t move an inch as you lie on your side, little snores escaping your lips. the timid moonlight doesn’t do justice to the peace reflected on your face — something he doesn’t want to snatch away from you. he wants you so badly; at the same time, he wants you to want him too.

you will accept him, won’t you, even if it’s him wearing your own skin?

xavier tucks a lone strand behind your ear. his hand cups your cheek, letting his heat permeate the cold skin. his body has always run a bit colder, after all. it would crush him to see his own body hurt you. a pat is all he tests for now as he awaits your impending reaction. when you don’t return to the waking world, xavier tries something bolder. his face lines up to yours, and he presses his lips against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

you see him like a friend, but to him, you’ve always been his everything, forever: from the end of a beginning to the beginning of an end. xavier doesn’t want to label your relationship as mere coworkers or friends or... lovers. it’s just not fair to the two of you. he’s crossing a line here, he knows, but can you even blame him? if only you were aware of everything: the past, his and yours. then you would have understood, right?

like clockwork, you begin to stir awake. it’s the suck of a breath first, one he doesn’t let you claim so easily. his lips move harder against yours when a muffled noise escapes you. when he finally feels you push on his shoulders, he pulls away, already missing you.

“what—” you heave, trying to replace the air he stole from you. “xavier… what are you doing here?”

what does he even say to you?

“did you just...” you gasp. he sees your hand reach up for your lips, feeling the skin he’s been messing with: red and bitten raw. the extra pillow beneath him soaks up any sweat dribbling down his face. the air has changed, hotter; he can feel it melt on him — like salty vapors of a restless sea.

“you should know this by now.” he whispers, hoping you’d hear him.

you blink. “what do you mean?”

“that i am insatiable — that i have been for so long now.”

he moves closer, not paying attention to another gasp of yours. his hand grabs yours immediately and pushes it into your panties. you can feel it, right? the wetness, the mess his fingers had just made moments ago. he stares at your agape mouth, not knowing what you are feeling. your hand doesn’t move, and neither do you, only rendering him breathless.

you don’t want him…?

“please,” he pleads, eyes looking up at you. “i want this. i want you badly.”

you gulp, silver eyelashes fluttering. “xavi—”

“please.”

xavier sits up, completely imprudent by now. he climbs on top of your torso, making sure to press his core right where you should be aching for him. your want doesn’t wish to reveal itself to him right now, but it’s okay. another grind comes, from down to up. another moan sounds from your mouth, which tells him he’s succeeding, slowly but surely. it’s small, subtle, but the bulge only makes him proud for a vile reason; you react well, don’t you? his hips move with a mind of their own, drawing more sounds from you.

“you feel me?” xavier pants from above.

you are beginning to tremble beneath him now, your hand palming his sides. reluctance pulls you by the joints, and your lips break apart, a shudder making you still before you use his own strength to stop him.

“we can’t—”

one more grind just to drive his motives home — one painfully slow for the both of you. he feels your bulge now prod at his moist center, begging for reprieve.

“x-xavier, we can’t do this right now…” you blink up at him.

he tilts his head to the side, letting a smile etch onto his face — one that was definitely more wicked than it looked. “why not?”

“i—”

“you say no…” his one palm slithers in between your bodies, and he presses hard on the pulsing bulge, in essence, trampling over your excuses.

“what’s this, then?”

xavier muffles whatever you were going to say next. his lips are back on yours, licking, sucking, not leaving any skin untouched. you don’t try to push him off this time, in fact quite the opposite. he thinks he might be dreaming as you grind back against him, reciprocating in the way he was wishing you would.

xavier parts from you, and noses against your jaw. “you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“xav—”

his hand moves fast to cup your chin. “no, tell me exactly what it is.”

he sees your eyes close, teeth nibbling your lips. “and if i say yes...”

then they open once more with a blue so fervent it nearly makes him collapse.

“what would that make me?”

sudden affection floods him. he chuckles and gives your cheek a gentle pat. “what do you think?”

a pause hits you before: “just like... you?”

that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?

“just… like.. me.”

another pat lands as your limbs relax beneath him. he asks, “well, do you… want to?”

your eyes widen, and you bite your lips again. he patiently waits even though the bulge pressing against him is yelling at him to do something, quick. because your word is all that matters. xavier hopes you know he would get off you this very moment if you so desired.

but, of course, you don’t.

“i want to.”

you want him too.

xavier smiles, a genuine one for this hectic night. “i know.”

soon, he’s pawing at the waistband of the sweatpants he guided your legs through hours ago. you don’t hesitate this time as he pulls them off you in one single go. it’s you who paws at his boxers next, muttering something that sounds awfully close to a “please.” the word is drawn out in his husky voice, as if you’d finally learned to manipulate his vocal cords for your salacious gains. he does the same with the boxers, throwing them across the room to a forgotten corner before returning above you.

instinct controls him, and he quickly wraps his hand around the hard erection. xavier drinks in your expression, his ministrations making you all the more pliant beneath him — just as he wanted. “how does this feel?”

“i can’t describe—oh!” a moan is ripped out of you when he squeezes slightly.

“strange? weird?”

his eyes meet yours, and you manage a nod, silver hair matted from sweat.

“but familiar…” a smile breaks out on your face.

“you know,” he lets go of the pulsing length, and straddles your lap once more. “i felt the same too.”

“when?”

“when i fucked myself using your fingers.”

“what?!” the shock on your face makes him snort. “is that why you were fucking leaking?!”

his tight grip is back on you, and he’s already guiding the hardness to where he drips.

“it wasn’t enough. i wanted my own fucking dick — so bad.”

xavier lifts, making sure not to break eye contact. “wanted to fuck myself stupid on you.”

a laugh blooms out of you. “you are nasty.”

“never denied that…” xavier bends forward, and pecks your lips.

“so… you’ll fuck me, right?”

you pull him down fast.

with his breath caught, his eyes are forced shut, drowning out every other sense with only you. your fingers are no match for the wholeness he feels. he knew it already, you know? his dick was always going to be the one to fit so perfectly inside of you, nestled in your welcoming warmth, filling every nook; for him and only him.

“xavier—!” he feels you claw at his thighs.

“i’ll move, d-don’t worry.”

and he does, slowly, up and down, up, down, testing the waters, feeling every sensation, everything he’s been bombarded with: your nails imprinting on his thighs, his hot length molding something deep inside you.

“you like it?”

he’s bouncing now, and he has no idea why he knows how to. the slickness from your mixed fluids is dripping out around the length, as it pools on your lap. the splosh, splosh deafening in the silence you both didn’t occupy. you remove your hands from his waist and cover your eyes, making him laugh sluggishly. his hands stretch across your chest, tweaking with your little, pink nipples. your response is instantaneous in the form of a loud shriek, sharp enough to cut through the tension.

“w-why is your body—ahh! so sensitive?!” you moan out.

“don’t blame m-me, baby…”

xavier leans forward, and he’s kissing you again, almost trying to eat you through your mouth. your tongue barely holds against him as he rubs his against yours, hard and filthy, letting saliva leak from the sides of your connected lips.

the tightness returns to your limbs, however, this time because of an entirely different reason. he can feel it too, a feeling he knows too well: this blazing knot, binding deep inside his abdomen. he’s close, and so are you. he can’t tell where you begin and he ends, and truthfully, xavier doesn’t care. he’d weld himself against you if he could. he’s too lost deep in the pleasure by now, that he’s barely paying attention to how his moans begin to deepen with each strangled whine. the gravity seems to have flipped completely, but xavier blames it on the dick drilling through him.

except, it’s not anymore.

one moment he’s hearing you blabber about how tight he feels, and the very next, it’s him feeling that same tightness around him. huh…? he tries to stop his bouncing, only to find out he’s not the one doing that now. his eyes snap open, and he freezes. it’s you, and your face, and your body he sees above him; your thighs on the sides of his waist, your walls clenching around him instead of the other way around.

oh.

he pinches at your thigh. “(name).”

“no,” you whisper, your voice landing fresh. “i was so close!”

“(name)…” his hands come to grope your behind.

being back in his own body doesn’t elicit the surprise from him xavier was thinking it would. and for you, it doesn’t seem any different either — not surprised, only that you are mourning the release he was going to give you. what should he do now that he’s finally free from a fantasy, only to be trapped in a different one?

you pout, tightening around him again. “you are not going to leave me hanging, xavier.”

“of course… come here.” he smirks.

you lean toward him, immediately catching him in another kiss — a kiss that finally feels normal, like puzzle pieces back in their places. his one hand splays on your back, while the other slides down in between your body, finding that tiny bud that still seemed to pulse.

xavier parts from you, lips sloppy. “you are just as insatiable as me…”

“stop—” his fingers press on your clit, making you shut up.

xavier can’t stop himself now, can’t stop the lewd words falling out of his mouth, or his hips that rush to meet yours halfway.

“look at you, baby…”

“bent over me like this.”

“all spread open for me.”

“so obscene, aren’t you?”

his mouth traps yours in a push and pull again, distracting enough for you that you almost miss the way his dick starts moving inside you.

“oh, xavier… oh~”

“fuck—” xavier stills immediately, trying not to cum at the spot. his arms cage you in against him. “don’t, or i might just…”

“aw, you are so cute.”

a flick lands on your forehead, making you whine. he recollects himself and looks at you one last time, mirroring your amusement.

“i am gonna move, okay?”

a nod from you is all it takes for his hips to start moving again. xavier doesn’t find it hard to thrust into you from below, if anything else, he can feel so much farther in you this way. you begin to gush around him as he continues to piston into you, thrust after thrust, not letting his pace falter even once. he keeps you close to his chest, letting you hear his heartbeat that seems to race just like yours.

the clenches around him never stop for even a second, alongside your sucks and bites on his nipples. xavier knows you are beginning to feel good now.

“touch yourself for me?” he coaxes you gently by patting on your back, meanwhile continuing to fuck you steadily.

“eh—”

the request is sudden but sweet you accept it anyways. xavier stares at you through his sweat-slicked bangs, watching your mouth fall agape, as your fingers try to match with his consistent thrusts.

“f-feeling good?”

a moan escapes you just as he angles his dick slightly, hitting deeper. “so goooood!”

after a few more thrusts, comprehension seems to be lost on you. it’s all blabbering now for you: “xavier, please! xavier, i can’t!”

xavier, i can’t take this! then why are you moving despite telling him not to?

xavier, don’t stop! and yet you cry for his mercy when his ruthlessness overtakes.

you are not the only one out of your mind, however. an impatient roar rises in him also. he, too, seems to balance right on the very edge, and your own release would be all it would take for him to tip over it. you have him thrown so out of his orbit, that he won’t be able to return anytime soon. he suckles on your neck, leaving behind purple hues that will match the ones you gifted on his chest.

you have long since stopped playing with your clit; instead, hold onto him as you hide your face in his neck, licking up any sweat drops that pass by your blurred vision. your voice melts against his ears, your moans more like a melody, he wanted to relish and tune according to his desires.

“xavier—” your imminent warning finally sounds in the heat of it all. his arms tighten their hold on you, and he hears you yell: “i am gonna—!”

“gonna cum? on my cock? yeah, show me, baby.”

and you do, making him feel every single fucking squeeze — complete insanity. it’s damn near impossible to move inside the vise-like grip your pussy has on him. not long after, xavier feels himself spurting inside your hot walls as his thick cum drips out of your poor hole in globs.

xavier’s undone all the way to the soul.

a few minutes pass with you slumped atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

“that was…”

no further words leave you, but xavier already knows everything. he smiles as you nuzzle against his cheek.

the need has finally sunk its teeth.

with this, xavier has taken absolutely everything from you in every sense.

(and he needs to keep that wanderer around for… ahem, research purposes.)

you blink. oh. not again.

reminded of the time this happened once before, you do not worry for being this way indefinitely. so, you decide in that breath to ride it out with a little bit more grace this time.

with a deep sigh, you make your way to lucian’s side and lick the tip of his nose.

you wish you could capture this somehow— the details of when they open their eyes to the sunlight in your feline vision. each lash so perfectly curated, each freckle in their irises wonderfully placed, the overjoyed expression that paints their features when a kitten wakes them.

“a cat!” lucian squeals, taking you with him again when he sits upright. you giggle in your mind, the purrs let them know you are.

you’ll commend them later with how gently they care for you.

kyros’s warm palm stays on your head, petting as he is talking to you about being part of the family. asking for permission to hug you which you respond to with slow blinks and head butts to his soft belly.

lucian excitedly crawls in circles around you, careful not to hit you, while yapping about how many tricks you’ll be able to do— with live demonstrations of said tricks. you so kindly demonstrate them back to him, and his face of triumph is one you've never seen before.

your heart warms, despite being in this predicament, not once have you yet worried about needing to turn back.

on this rare morning, when your little ones are fawning over you and showing you the fruits of your love for them, you take this curse as a blessing.

but that smell.

it’s not bad, just strong and warm and creeping. the smell of a living body— of milk, blueberries and a simmering smoke beneath. a strange variation of… sylus.

a scent too strong that you must wipe them clean of or else something else will smell them, then your little ones would be in grave danger. your pupils shrink to slits and your hackles rise at the thought. kyros murmurs a confused, "huh?"

hopping up on your hind legs makes him coo, but your singular purpose is to get to his cheeks. a few licks will balance them out, smooth it out and refine it— balance it with you, and make it smell like home.

"boys, have you seen your mother?"

you’re in the middle of licking lucian’s forehead when sylus walks into their bedroom. he stares at his children, hair mussed in different directions, and they stare right back at him.

"papa!" kyros smiles, scrambling off the sheets to crash into sylus's knees. he is caught just in time before any teeth are knocked out, and lifted into a sturdy embrace.

lucian tilts his head closer to you when you bap his forehead with your mitten. you start licking at another spot on his head. "papa, a cat came in."

"it looks like it." he chuckles, recognizing the dragon li that has begun scenting his children as none other than his wife. it's happened before, anyway, what he didn't expect is that it would happen again.

he reaches out to squeeze lucian's cheek good morning, but your paw swats his hand away.

the silence is heavy.

he scoffs at you, appalled. "are you keeping him from me?"

you hiss, ears flat back and petulant. the answer, horrifyingly, a yes.

you try to chirp at kyros, redirect him back to you because— ugh, he just undid all the work you did and now he smells even more like his father and even less like you. luckily, he is obedient and wriggles out of his papa's grasp at your command, much to sylus's displeasure.

"hey!" sylus harrumphs, watching as kyros sidles up next to you and lucian. his brood, now within your litter.

you hiss at him again.

"no," lucian chides, petting your ears down. "das papa. he's nice."

"papa no hurt you." kyros supplies helpfully. "he big, but he no hurt."

sylus softens at his children's words. to you, he says, "see, kitten? i'm harmless."

"her name miss waffle-cake, papa," whispers kyros, offended for you. you meow in protest at the dubbed name, knowing how sylus will use it against you later on, but kyros holds you close now and sniffs you. "she smell sweet!"

"oh?" sylus grins, sinister and mischievous. "may i?"

he's fast when he takes you from kyros. the height you travel up to is sickening with the speed, it makes you squirm and cry in protest. soon you're face-to-face with your husband, eyes gleaming, and smirk treacherous.

his nose is in your belly in an instant. it tickles. you do not know whether to scream or laugh.

your meows are incomprehensible, and your limbs flail about against your control. in your head, you are screaming for your life.

"stop!" is yelled from below you, your own kittens now pawing at sylus's legs in outrage. "stop, she don'ike it!"

sylus breathes a chuckle as he cradles you to his chest. your sheathed claws tap at his cheek in mock pride, saying, yes! listen to your sons!

"papa, be nice!" squeaks lucian, seeming most affected by your distressed sounds. "she little!"

"give me!" demands kyros, hands outstretched upwards. waiting for your return in his protection.

sylus laughs at your smug expression, surprised a cat can even have such a prominent one, and promptly hands you back to kyros.

"sorry." kyros kisses your forehead softly, and you melt in his embrace. "papa silly sometime."

lucian comes to scratch your chin and bump his forehead against yours. angrily muttering under his breath, "big lizard."

your purrs get louder as your laughter turns hysterical in your brain.

oh, your sweet boys.

"okay, i'm sorry." sylus sinks down to the floor to kneel on his legs and bows his head. "i got... excited."

lucian is the one who shifts his body to be the barrier between him and you. "papa... like cats?"

sylus chuckles at the accusation. "i love cats. especially waffle-cake." he nods towards you. despite yourself, you tilt your head shyly.

"miss waffle-cake." kyros sneers. he did come up with the name, after all.

sylus raises his palms regretfully. "miss waffle-cake."

oh he's loving this. you snuff a breath at him through your little pink nose.

sylus pleads with his family now, eyes big and unguarded. begging to be included in the fun. "i promise to be gentle."

the twins look to one another. it wasn't like their papa to lie to them. he messes with them, regularly, sure, but he isn't mean, they think. lucian is the first to nod, and so kyros announces the ruling that papa can now be part of the i-love-miss-waffle-cake-club.

grateful, he squeezes himself onto lucian's bed and takes all three of you in the crisscross of his legs. bending close to your snout for a little nuzzle as he whispers, "just say when."

knowing that the last time this happened, turning back involved lips and true love.

you rub your cheek against his chin in acknowledgement.

the morning is spent indulging your family on their simple joys.

you'd become one of the world's greatest marvels, existing being your greatest feat to your children.

your quick zoomies around the room are exhilarating, especially with two little boys trying to catch you.

you sniff them until their stomachs hurt from laughing.

you teach them to make biscuits on papa, starting your own little bakery on his bottom.

even your instinctive licking (because they're starting to smell like sylus again) is so inexplicably beautiful to them, they just sit there and let it happen.

and naturally, under the warmth of the morning light, once curious eyes waver behind heavy lids. your own yawn from your place on sylus's chest, underneath his shirt, seems to trigger everyone else's.

positions are established like nature, and soon you're squeezed up against two little ones who've decided they want to be kittens in papa's shirt too.

but before they drift away, kyros takes your paw in his hand and lucian kisses your head and murmurs. "wish mama was here."

melting your heart into oblivion.

"having fun?" sylus inquires once lucian has followed his brother into a dream later on. you've crawled out of his shirt and perched yourself on his shoulder, curling around your babies as best you can.

you chirp at him, yes. and slowly blink at your sons.

"ready?" he asks softly, but it sounds like another request entirely.

the slight pucker of his lips is cute, showing a little more than he let on— if you knew how to look for it. an expert in reading your husband, you read him clear as day: he misses you.

so you lean in, but instinct trumps logic and your paws press against his lips. "mrph!"

"what?" he wonders. you're getting up and climbing on his head now. he feels the sharpened bristles of your tongue move his unstyled hair in all directions, doing more harm than good if your intention was to groom him.

he lets you finish the job, just as obedient as his sons, until you give him the kiss he's been waiting for.

when your feline eyes turn from large and crystaline to the ones he fell in love with, he smiles. "kitten."

meanwhile, your hands slide up to the back of his head to tug him down. his hair—now perfectly balanced in scent thanks to you— is askew, but you make no effort in fixing anything else.

you take a whiff and sigh in relief. "much better."

"because... you're not a cat anymore?" sylus inquires. unaware of the still fading inner workings of a feline's mind.

"sure," you shrug, kissing his cheek. then you turn to your sleeping babies on his chest and soften. "but that was good too."

Each of the five hosts attracts guests with their own distinct type, all of which are widely loved for their different appeal.

CHOI YEONJUN ! The ‘prince charming’ type

With his good looks, princely charm, and flamboyancy, Yeonjun is the most popular member of the host club, with a 70% request rate. His rose's color is white and his representative animal is a fox. Choi yeonjun was the one to create the club, his family plays a significant role in funding the university, hence why he is able to get away with having such a club. He personally recruited all of the other members and the club is something he values more than anything. A fashion major, Choi yeonjun is the heir to a global luxury fashion house. He also excitedly designs and creates many of the costumes for the host club events and members. He is the most flirty member and does the most fanservice.

CHOI SOOBIN ! The ‘gentle leader’ type

As the club’s president, Choi soobin is known for his calm authority and soft spoken nature. He is very polite and known to be very gentlemanly. His family is also the richest, with very old money and an aristocratic lineage. Despite this, he remains humble and approachable. His rose’s colour is pink and his representative animal is a bunny. Guests love him for his soft posh boy vibes, often wearing fake glasses as he knows guests love it, leaning into this image. His soft nurturing nature as the leader earned him the club’s unofficial title of the ‘mum’, whilst yeonjun is referred to as the ‘dad’ - a contrasting dynamic guests really seem to like. He also studies English literature. Guests ask soobin to create bullshit poetry for them, which they fawn over. Despite being an English lit student, poetry is not one of his strong suits.

CHOI BEOMGYU ! The ‘emo rockstar’ type

He is very brooding and emo, known for his mysterious nature which, unsurprisingly gains him a lot of attention from guests. With his messy wolfcut, guitar, and multiple facial piercings, he leans into a rockstar aesthetic that many find appealing. It is a role that sells. His roses’s colour is red and his representative animal is a bear. Unlike the other members, he is also secretly on a scholarship and does not come from an esteemed or wealthy family. He has his issues with the club, but it pays well and he does love his members. He remains deeply attached to the club and still enjoys being a host. Choi beomgyu studies music. Seems to always be tired and sleeping due to balancing his studies and being a host club member.

HUENING KAI ! The ‘cute angel’ type

Often referred to as ‘Honey Kai’, a nickname guests who favour him use fondly. Kai is known for his bright, sweet, sunshine personality and his sweet tooth. His cheerful energy and soft, approachable nature makes him especially popular with those drawn to the cute type. He loves plushies and collecting them, particularly penguins and is almost never seen without one. Guests frequently gift him penguin plushies, to the point where he now just has two rooms filled entirely with them. His roses’s colour is yellow and his representative animal is a penguin. His family owns hotel and resort chains. Kai studies music alongside beomgyu. Occasionally, beomgyu and kai will produce background music for events together.

KANG TAEHYUN ! The ‘cool intelligent’ type

Kang taehyun is known for his cold and unemotional resolve. He is highly intelligent and academically driven, taehyun is the treasurer of the club. While soobin and yeonjun handle overall planning, taehyun oversees the numbers and tracks profits, keeping track of who performs best and what brings in the most revenue. He claims to only be involved for the experience and connections it offers, treating the club more like a strategic investment. His rose’s colour is blue and his representative animal is a squirrel. Though, many guests argue he is more of a cat. Despite all of this, taehyun is known to have a soft spot for kai, who is his best friend. Their dynamic is also especially popular. Kang taehyun studies finance and comes from a family involved in finance and brokerage. He also workouts the most and is popular for his good shape and muscles.

RELEASE DATE: TBA

COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST !

A/n: this probably won’t be out until around June since I have exams lol but I wanted to post a teaser since it was fun to make and to see the reception !! This series is going to be a mini series and will probably have 5 parts for each member. Also don’t get your hopes up LMAOO each chapter probably won’t be too long and will sort of be like oneshot smuts with each member. I do have rough ideas for each member now but this is still probably not going to be plot heavy or super cohesive loll

Also tell me which character has caught your eye so far based on the profiles in the comments I’m very curious hehe…which host would you be requesting for?

Wow. Satoru pauses in the entry to the doorway. He must be more tired than he thought, getting all wistfully sentimental.

That's also new. Allowing himself to be tired.

Usually (and it's no secret to anyone) that he just uses RCT when he feels himself getting low. It doesn't exactly make him feel less tired—but the chances of him dropping like a fly right where is, is substantially less. It allows him to keep pushing for a little longer. Then a little longer. And then for so long, he can't exactly tell you when it was that he last slept.

You and Suguru nipped that in the bud fairly quickly. A disappointed glance here, a few well times comments—and the guilt he felt for upsetting you both was larger than his need to instinctively obey the expectations from the higher ups.

It's okay to feel tired, Satoru, you'll say, stroking and scratching his hair just right. We can handle the rest, while you catch up, alright?

Suguru, kissing his neck and peppering so many against his mouth that he can't possibly keep his eyes open for another second.

He falls asleep like that. Right in the middle of that big fancy bed, alone, kissing his pillow.

He awakes in a limbo. Some sort of twilight zone. It isn't quite morning, but the sky is still dark. Satoru fumbles around for his phone and proceeds to flashbang himself with the brightness.

Hissing, he turns it down, fully awake now.

There are several texts messages from you and Suguru, both separately and in the groupchat you the three of you inhabit together. He checks the groupchat first, smiling dumbly at a series of photos.

Your feet propped up in Suguru's lap. In your lap, there's a bowl of blueberries and strawberries. In your hand, a book. He can't see much of your face, other than your side profile and furrowed brow. Whatever it is you're reading, you've completely forgotten Suguru was there.

Another photo of dinner. Satoru scowls at the sheer amount of vegetables, but continues scrolling. A cameo of Suguru in his boxers, looking around in the bedroom, searching for something. A selfie of you both. Wide, happy eyes. Matching grins.

"I'm so lucky" He says to no one at all, rolling onto his stomach and kicking his feet.

Next, the separate messages. There are several texts from you.

good luck on your mission!

you haven't come home and theres no news from shoko so im assuming ure NOT dead somewhere and ure asleep at a hotel??

sleep well. i love you lots. dream of me more than suguru tonite

And one final message :

sugu says check your messages. he has a surprise for you :)

The speed in which Satoru exits the thread with you and swipes to Suguru's surprises even him. Breath trapped in his throat, mind slightly foggy with anticipation, he pries open one eye and then the other.

It's a video. It doesn't take a genius to know what kind. The thumbnail is black, leaving nothing for Satoru to really deduce. The caption is simple. We love you.

Obviously, he clicks play. Obviously.

The camera must have been pressed into the bedspread. That explains the thumbnail. He can't see much at first, it's grainy and dark—like a cheap porno he'd find online. The kind Suguru knows he likes (hey—doesn't that porn star look kind of like–?) but has otherwise never said anything about.

Except it's not. Because it isn't some nameless pornstar where the girl bears some sort-of-maybe resemblance to you and the guy maybe sounds how Satoru would imagine Suguru to sound before he got over himself and realized having both of you was actually an option.

The camera focuses. Whatever train of thought he had been on precious has now jumped ship from his mind.

The person behind the camera is Suguru. He pulls the phone back a little, lets it focus again. Starts from your pointed toes and goes up, up, up. Because he has an eye for these things. Somehow knows when to turn the phone just so, slightly left or right. Catches slick dribbling out your cunt and the quiver in your thighs.

"Hold them open for me, okay?" He says, voice breathy.

"Okay" You warble; and Suguru catches the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip. The way your hands tremble, hooking underneath your knees, spreading yourself open for him. "Like this?"

"Oh my god, fuck" Satoru moans, at the same time Suguru says, "Yes, thats perfect baby. You're doing so well for me"

"And Satoru?"

"And Satoru."

Suguru gets closer. He can't see much now, besides the pillow and the ends of your hair. But he can hear you two kissing well enough. His brain supplies the rest. He's witnessed you two kissing more than enough times for it to be practically muscle memory.

He can see again. Suguru sets the camera at an angle, higher up. He slides down your body, kissing a path between your thighs. What wouldn't Satoru give to be there right now? In your spot, in his, it doesn't matter.

Fuck. Suguru knows how much he likes to eat you out. He feels nearly green with envy, shoving his pants down to his hips in order to get a hand on his hard cock. This video is as much of a taunt as it is a blessing. He still has another day or two here before he can return home.

You're both built like works of art. Suguru kneels down, body flat to the mattress and replaces the hands underneath your knees with his own. Miles of black hair stretch out behind him, swirling against the white sheets in a beautiful contrast.

The broad muscles in his back ripple and shift as he begins to lick at your cunt. He must have worked you up for a while before this, because you start moaning immediately and it sounds like you might be halfway ready to cum already.

It feels like Satoru's just ran into an electric fence. He doesn't know why he finds it so hot. He's never thought about it before, what people in porn do before the actual porn starts. Just cared about getting off, relieving what stress he could as fast as he could before he had to run off to the next thing.

This is different. In so many ways this is different. Personal, he thinks. He wonders. You can kiss forever. Satoru knows you can. Can lie there in bed for hours, just kissing and rubbing yourself off between them, perfectly content to cum like that. All nice and slow.

And you can cum so many times. Between the two of them; they can get you there easily three times. Six is they really try. By the seventh or eighth, you're more tears than person, putty in their arms.

Maybe Suguru made you cum already and then started the video. His eyes dart down to the timestamp. It's a thirty minute video. Fuck. Is Suguru going to fuck you too? Or is he going to eat your pussy the entire time?

Suguru's got stamina. Can stave himself off for hours if needs to. Not like you or Satoru, who fuck like rabbits, fast and hard because you keep keying each other up.

Your chest heaves. Your hands curl in the sheets, and then against Suguru's wrists and back to the sheets again. Your hips roll against his face, as much as Suguru will allow anyway, before your hands dart once more to his hands and wrists—this time staying there.

Satoru's hand flies over his cock. Too fast. He has to force himself to slow down, to patch Suguru's pace, drooling and gnawing on the blanket, on his wrist. He wishes you two were here, or that he was there. He moans, breathy and kind of shrill—worked up from what must be a week without seeing either of you.

You echo him in the video, thighs trembling and feet arched sinfully. He can't see much of your face, nothing but your chin really. If he focuses (which is becoming increasingly hard to do), he can see spit slick and shiny there.

Noisily, Suguru slurps at your cunt. He must be borderline choking himself. Fuck; he's so jealous. The first thing he wants to do when he comes is get between your thighs. He can imagine the taste of your slick, and the heady way you smell.

"Fuc–fuck, fuck, 'm gonna cum" You groan, and your head tips back. Your throat bobs. Satoru wants to bite you right there. He would have, if he were there. Would've sucked on your tits and kissed away your tears and murmured words of encouragement in your ear because he knows what it's like to have Suguru go down on him. Knows what it's like to every minute bit of common sense and rationality.

Suguru pulls away. Both of you groan, frustrated, at that. Your essence is smeared on the lower half of his face.

"You miss Satoru, baby?" Suguru asks, breathing against your cunt, and then mouthing at your thigh. Your body seizes up like livewire. Satoru has to take his hand off his cock or he'll come. Blinks away the tears from his lashline. His heart pounds in his ears as he watches you fuck yourself on two of fingers.

"Yes!"

"Yeah?" Suguru goads, and then shifts his body so Satoru can't see anything at all. Bastard. But he can hear. Your cries go higher up in pitch, all tumbling into one another like run-on sentences. Air pops in his ears. Satoru has never been good at pacing himself. "You miss him a lot; baby? Miss his cock?"

"Mh–mhmm, miss it" He doesn't have to see you to picture the way your head bobbles in a nod. You do it all the time when you're about to cum. Just start agreeing with whatever he or Suguru says. His hips kick and churn. Pre spurts out of his cock.

Again, Suguru shifts. He can see you a bit more now. Your cunts all puffy and slick. So wet.

"I miss him too" Suguru says, only slightly out of breath. He sounds almost wistful. "Gonna fuck him so good when he comes home. You wanna ride his cock, baby? Wanna make Satoru cry?"

Fuck. "Yes!" You hiss through your teeth. Suguru licks up your cunt and then doubles down his efforts. You sink your fingers into his hair, twisting him this way and that. Rolling and fucking yourself on his nose and mouth, too close to be shy or chaste. "Sa-Satoru, Satoru, 'toru!"

He can't even hold up the phone anymore, pushing his face into the duvet and coming so hard his vision whites out. He keeps jerking himself until he starts crying from oversensitivity.

Sits up. Smears the cum away from his body with a tissue. Grabs the phone. Rewinds it. Presses play.

Suguru outright laughs when Satoru teleports into the house.

"How many times did you watch it?" He asks, plainly, snickering. "You're eyes are all bloodshot"

"No they're not" They are. Even Yaga had asked him if something had happened on the mission. Satoru's shoulders rise to his ears, which are about as red as the bags under his eyes.

Twenty times. Minimum. He had been ashamed to take the train (he wanted to watch it just one more time before exorcising another curse in Sendai) but then he had to take a detour to the bathroom and jerk off again.

"So you watched it?"

"Of course I watched it" Satoru snaps, snatching a cookie out of Suguru's hand, just before he was about to take a bite out of it. He chomps it down in three bites even (gross, green tea flavored) and then reaches to take another.

"Would you quit that?" Suguru gripes, trying to push him away. "My lovely girlfriend made these for me—"

"She's my girlfriend too—"

"You know she always makes you a separate batch and its in the fridge you fucking fatass" Their eyes meet, and for a second, neither of them speak. Then, they burst into sudden rambunctious laughter. The kind that reminds him of the old days at Jujutsu Tech. Yaga trying to teach, the pair of them stifling giggles that keep getting louder and louder the longer they look at each other. The kind where glancing at Suguru, his faint smile lines, sets him off all over again. To the point where Satoru's knees get all weak and he has to half clutch at Suguru and the kitchen counters to keep himself upright.

"I missed you" Satoru says, speaking half of the mission and that period of time where things were Bad and he nearly lost Suguru forever. He tucks his face against his throat, trying to make himself small.

Suguru accepts him easily. "Missed you more" he replies, arms circling around his waist. "She'll be so upset she missed you coming home. She just made a quick stop at school to drop off her mission reports for the weekend. Maybe date night tomorrow, if you're still up for it"

Of course he's still up for it. Date night is awesome. He gets to watch you both doll up so pretty, Suguru helping you with your heels and your makeup. Satoru selecting your perfume and matching ties with Suguru. The fancy restaurants where the waitstaff try not to question three overly touchy adults.

Blearily, Satoru makes a face. Says blegh, quietly and pouts. "I miss her. I want her to come home now"

"She'll be here soon" Suguru assures, which isn't much help. "You know we love you"

We love you. That was how Suguru captioned the video. We love you. What was that theory you mentioned? About the dog, the bell, and lunch? Pavlov's...whatever. Yeah. That's him. Satoru chokes on a moan, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Really?" Suguru intones dryly, because of course he knows exactly what brought his reaction on.

Images flash through his head. He can recount the whole video now. Word for word. Could recite it to you, even down to the timing of your breathy sighs and moans. "Shut up" Satoru protests weakly, trying to will his sudden hard-on away.

Of course, not that he ever expected Suguru to play fair. Not with the way his knee slides between's Satoru's legs.

"I mean, who knew you'd turn out such a pervert?" Suguru says, humming noncommittally. A juxtaposition to the way his hand softly scratches at his nape and undercut. It makes Satoru moan again, a little shaky and uneven. "Too much porn in your formative years, I think"

He's saved by the bell. And not the Pavlov kind. The you kind.

"Toru!" You squeal, and he has a second max before you launch yourself at him. He catches you, because he's the best boyfriend in the world (equal to only one) and spins you around. "I was just at the school, what the hell?!"

"I know"

You barrel on, as though you haven't heard him. "We just missed each other. I can't believe Suguru got to see you first. Did you see the cookies I made you?"

"No" Suguru says blithely "He was too busy eating all of mine"

"Well I can eat yours and mine" Satoru replies, sticking out his tongue. Your legs fall around his waist and then hit the floor. Right, then left. You're beaming at him. "Hi baby"

"I missed you" You tell him, hanging off of his arm as he grabs his tupperware container full of cookies from the fridge.

He can tell. Even though you're more reserved in the presence of others (no one believes him when he says you're clingy), all of that flies out the window the moment you're alone with them. And you always get more physically attached when one of them comes back from a mission. Like you're trying to make up for all of that separation in the span of a day.

The conversation moves into the living room. Satoru likes this part best. The way the three of you move around each other, sometimes without even thinking. Altering and switching and putting yourself right where you always know you'll belong.

For example : Suguru moves to the couch. His arm hangs on the back of it, and Satoru darts right in. You place your upper half onto Satoru's thighs. Your legs hang off the arm of the couch. Suguru won't stop caressing your face; your cheeks, lips, brows—with his thumb.

Satoru bends down, holds your face between his long fingers, and plants a kiss onto your lips. You surge up with a noise to return it, giving back tenfold. His tongue swipes at the seam of your lips. But thats about as far as he gets.

Fingers hook on the collar of his shirt and yank.

Scowling, Satoru turns his head and blindly places a messy kiss onto Suguru's lips. "Cockblocker" Suguru only hums in that frustratedly calm way of his, guiding him where he wants him so that he properly lick into his mouth. His brain buzzes around inside his skull.

"My turn" You say breezily, pushing your face right up against his and sucking brazenly on Suguru's tongue. It's a battle, your pink tongue sliding against Suguru's, mewling, fighting for dominance. Spit drips down Suguru's chin. Satoru, not the wasteful sort, licks it up. Trails kisses down Suguru's jaw and neck before switching and sucking a hickey onto the expanse of your throat.

Naturally (as it always is when they make out), Suguru comes out on top and you slump against his chest, breathing heavily, defeated.

"Get up here," Suguru demands, tugging incessantly at him. Satoru obeys, scurrying into straddling his hips. As if moving on the same wavelength, your fingers flick open the button on his pants and unzipping them. You aren't even looking at your hands when you do it, resting your head on Suguru's shoulder and gazing at Satoru with so much love and adoration in your eyes that it makes his head swim.

Of course, that is the precise moment he gets hard.

"Glad to see your dick still works" Suguru comments sarcastically (like he isn't fucking hard either), turning his head to kiss you again. You make a confused sound against his lips and he goes to explain. "With all the jerking off he did, sweetheart"

Your brows raise, as if suddenly remembering the video even existed. As if it isn't the sole focal point of every thought. Satoru's just a smidge too slow to stop you as your hand shoots down into his boxers, fondling his balls.

You hum. "You're right. Not as heavy as they usually are when he comes back from his missions"

"Baby" Satoru groans, face flushed. "Not you too"

"Well, when Sugu said you'd like the video, I didn't think you'd like it that much—"

"Next time you're knee-deep in curse guts for a week, I'll make sure Suguru sends you a video of me sucking him off, see how long you last"

Your eyes shoot up and to the left, scrubbing the lower half of your face contemplatively with the hand that isn't still currently fondling his dick and balls. "I see your point" you say finally.

"Don't fight you two" Suguru cuts in, though theres a playful little smile on his face. "We were in the middle of something. Don't get distracted"

"Who says 'm distracted?" You mumble, stroking his cock and then fondling the head in a way that makes Satoru shudder and roll his hips. "I'm hitting two birds with one stone"

He presses his head into the side of Suguru's neck, greedily inhaling the familiar scent that resides there. The two of you exchange more words, something that goes in one ear and out the other.

"Too many layers" Satoru whines, pulling back. "Take your clothes off" he orders—and yeah, he meant to sound more domineering than that. But judging by the two sweet smiles he's given, he knows he missed the mark.

But you obey, and so does Suguru. And that's all that really matters. Suguru pulls him back into his lap, and tugs you underneath his arm.

Satoru protests this action, reaching out for you. "No. I wanna eat her pussy"

"Well you're not going to" Suguru tells him

"You got to" He mumbles poutingly and Suguru guides his hips into a steady roll. His train of thought jolts for a second, pleasure threatening to override that. He's supposed to be upset right now. Right.

"I'm having dinner with the kids tonight" You tell him, sounding at least somewhat remorseful. "And no offense, but you'll make me late..."

"I've gotten no complaints before" Satoru whines, and still doesn't see how it can be much of a problem.

"You made me late the last time" You say, frowning at him. "Suguru had to step in for me, remember? I didn't even show up!"

Dopey, Satoru smiles, hissing through his teeth at the perfect glide of their cocks together. "Yeah, I remember—haah, fuck, have to do it again sometime" It isn't often that he gets to eat you out for hours like that. Something about you feeling 'oversenistive'.

As if picking up on his train of thought, Suguru rolls his eyes. But he doesn't say anything, just tips his head a little and slots their lips together. His own eyes slip shut, needily moaning. They aren't even doing much of anything yet, but it still feels so good.

You moan beside him, and it breaks him out of his stupor. Satoru has always liked the sound of you moaning. His eyes flutter open to catch two of Suguru's thick fingers in your pussy. Your hips squirm and jolt.

"Does that feel good, baby?" Satoru says, voice slightly hoarse, rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. You have such sensitive boobs, which they always make fun of you for. Even though Suguru can't really talk, because his chest is sensitive too. He's made him cum like that before, just touching his chest and kissing him.

Your head lolls into a nod.

All too soon though, Suguru's pulling his fingers out. Not that Satoru has the chance to complain, once Suguru is pushing those same slick fingers into his mouth.

He isn't playing it up, isn't being dramatic (like he knows he's prone to do) when his eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans. Satoru's hand shoots out, grips Suguru's wrist and holds it there.

"Greedy" Suguru sneers, but Satoru's far too gone to give a damn. "Yeah, enjoy it baby. That's as close to her pussy your mouth's going to get"

"Sugu" You whine, plaintive, needy.

"Go ahead" He murmurs, all sweet and condescending. Your hand curls around their cocks, stroking upwards once. Your thumb digs into Satoru's slit, smears the copious amounts of pre down both shafts.

If Suguru is the one with a magic mouth, then you've definitely got the best hands. Satoru's teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering open and closed and open again. He curses, low, spits into Suguru's mouth.

He forces himself to regain his bearings. His hips fuck up into your hand, groaning at the warm, slick heat. It doesn't help that his sensitive cock rubs right up against Suguru's on every slide. Even Suguru cannot pretend to be level headed forever. He tips his head back, throat bobbing and spasming erotically. There's a grunt, and then a longer, drawn out groan.

"Spread your legs" Satoru demands with a whine, and you obey, parting the gates to heaven. Working on the same wavelength, Suguru returns two thick fingers into your pussy. You go to shut your legs, but Satoru keeps them open.

He's torn between watching Suguru finger-fuck you and your hand stroking their cocks.

"Are you–yeayesyes, right there, oh my god, right there—are you seriously using Six Eyes right now?"

Satoru doesn't answer you. He licks the pad of his thumb and brings it down to your clit, rubbing firm little circles. Your pace falters, and then falters again. Suguru presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Oh do that again Satoru," He purrs "I felt her get really tight" He does (not that he needed to be commanded or anything) and Suguru chuckles, guiding one of your tits to his mouth. The position becomes a bit awkward, so he has to stop. "Oh, you like that sweetheart? You like Satoru playing with your clit?"

Your head falls onto Suguru's shoulder. You don't answer him, not right away. And then you just start nodding, which is your dead giveaway. It's kinda cute. Watching you mewl and tremble.

Suguru doesn't let up. "Yeah? You like it when we both play with this pretty pussy at the same time? I can tell, she's being so loud for us. Soaking my fingers too. Too bad you're not sitting on Satoru's face right now, isn't it?"

Satoru cums. It's very sudden, and shoots up so fast some of it lands on Suguru's lips (which gives him the unfair visual of watching him lick his lips clean) and the rest spills into hot ropes over his cock and your pretty fingers. He moans, doesn't stop moaning because Suguru hasn't come yet—and he pushes his face into his neck, literally shaking from overstimulation.

"Fuck—jus cum already" He bites out, worrying his teeth against Suguru's throat, cock jerking pitifully. Suguru's skin is clammy with sweat, tanned skin slightly red.

Your hand pauses, opens up and Satoru moves out of the way. You take his place, and he's granted the brilliant show of watching both of you stroke each other. It's just a blur. Someone (or both of you) start putting a little cursed energy behind it. Makes everything faster and headier. Suguru bites you. On your neck and on your shoulder (good luck covering those up). He's moaning now, actually moaning, sounding like it hurts and feels insanely good beyond human measure.

Satoru can't tell who cums first. Just that your noises go higher and higher in pitch, like a crescendo. And then—nothing. You both slump against each other, panting and breathing heavily. Your hand slides onto the couch, covered in cum.

"That's so gross" You and Suguru say simultaneously, as Satoru licks your fingers clean. Unlike his cum (which is a bit thinner than usual), Suguru's is nice and thick. Yours has that tangy, sweet taste. "Satoru"

"Have you been drinking more pineapple juice lately?" He asks, running his tongue over his teeth

Your face flushes with heat. It's cute. "I hate that you can taste that;what the hell?"

Satoru doesn't bother mentioning the double standard in your behaviors. You can notice how many times he's jerked himself in the past week based on the consistency of his cum, but him detecting that yours is a bit sweeter than normal is the weird part?

Suguru chuckles. He kisses Satoru on the brow and then you. "You two are both weird and made for each other"

"Well you're dating us" You mumble mulishly "So that makes you weird too"

Suguru's head tips up to the ceiling. He looks as though he's contemplating every single decision that could have possibly gotten him to this moment. "Yes. I guess so" He says, and the three of you all burst into laughter.