suckmyclituchiha

dude, no. NTA as long as you keep it in your pants.

notthatkentakakura

Mmm a little? I feel like you shouldn’t have a crush on your best friends girlfriend…

gogogokudolls

NTA. I fear we’ve all been there, my guy

6ixeyes

How gay are you for your bro????

Eijirō’s moving out. That’s the only logical course of events.

“Katsuki—! Oh my God—”

Eijirō groans, sinking a head into his hands. He threads fingers through his bright red hair and tugs. He’s going insane—he’s going to be in a straight jacket in two years if he doesn’t leave right now, this isn’t even fair, this is—

“Oh fuck, right there, right there, right there—”

What is the fucking point of walls. What is the fucking point, when it sounds like you’re right here.

Maybe, you guys don’t realize he’s home. Which is fair—by the time he got back, you two were already hidden away in Katsuki’s room. He should send a text, or knock on the door to be like hey, shut up please, or at least, put headphones in. But, no—instead, he chooses to torture himself, listening to you whine on his best friend’s cock.

“Yeah, Baby? You like that?”

The headboard slams hard enough to rattle the wall, and Eijirō debates on crying. He wants to see. He wants to see so bad that it hurts.

He suffers that night, just like he does all the others. Reddit doesn’t help, and neither does the throbbing between his thighs.

Eijirō likes to make breakfast. It’s the only meal he can make, really, other than chicken and rice. And broccoli—he can make broccoli. But, since you moved in, he likes making breakfast for a different reason.

“G’mornin’, Eiji.”

You come in yawning, bleary eyed and bra-less, just the way he likes. He doesn’t let his eyes drift the expanse of your thighs for too long—just enough to remember until tomorrow morning. Until he sees you in those shorts, again.

“Hey! How’d you sleep?”

Because, he slept horribly. He fell asleep halfway through the sex marathon, and doesn’t know if he had a wet dream, or heard you past the fuzz of slumber. Either way, he fell asleep at two and woke up at six, wholly unrested.

“Mm…good…” You stumble over to the fancy coffee machine he bought for Katsuki’s birthday last year. You maneuver around the kitchen with half a mind, and Eijirō tries to avoid burning breakfast. God forbid Katsuki wakes up to the smoke alarm in a panic, worried the world is on fire. You open the fridge to get water, nearly hitting yourself upside the head with the door, and Eijirō snorts, catching your forehead from his spot by the island.

You sniff, blearily blinking up with a nod as a thank you. “What’cha making?”

“Pancakes,” he grins, gesturing to the freshly poured griddle. “Try not to concuss yourself before then?”

“No promises,” you mumble past a sleepy smile, and its cute enough to make his heart hurt. He returns it, hoping it comes across less endearing than he feels. You shuffle closer to watch pancake batter bubble under the heat. “Ugh, pancakes are gonna hit. Thank you.”

You let out a moan, one that sounds a little too similar to what he heard through the walls last night. He focuses on flipping the pancakes with an unsteady hand, refusing to feel the edges of your molecules when you get too close.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he preaches with a laugh, and you nod vehemently in agreement. The coffee machine starts to whirr.

“Yeah, ‘n if not for you, I’d be having straight coffee for breakfast.”

“That’s…horrible,” he realizes aloud, and you snort in response, collapsing your face into his arm. His arm, which is, now, nearly pinned between your breasts—and Eijirō wants to cry for the twentieth time this week. “You should definitely not do that.”

“But, I don’t even like breakfast,” you whine, jutting out a bottom lip. Eijirō takes a very deep breath, before flipping the last pancake. He fucks it up, and the battered side folds in half.

Then, he remembers what you just said, and frowns. “You eat it, though—I’ve seen you.”

“I eat your breakfast,” you argue sleepily, and the coffee machine beeps for attention. You leave to grab the full cup, leaving his right side much colder than you found it. “You cook good breakfast.”

Eijirō isn’t fully sure what you mean by that, but beams nonetheless. “Thank y—”

Katsuki stretches in the kitchen doorway. Languid like a cat, with arms above his head, and groaning loud enough to startle. He’s shirtless, and Eijirō does not see the purpling hickey on his neck. Does not.

Katsuki waltzes over to you and drapes himself across your shoulders, eyes swollen and voice rugged from sleep. He steals a kiss from your cheek before asking, “Coffee.”

You hum, lifting the mug closer to his collapsed self. “Want some?”

Katsuki scrunches a nose and shakes his head, only for his face to end up in your neck. “Not from you.”

That earns him a gasp and a flick in the forehead, both of which Katsuki takes in stride. He snickers into your skin, biting behind your ear until you yelp, with a hand tight around your hip to ensure you don’t squirm to far.

And, it’s sickening.

It’s sickening, because these are the moments when Eijirō doesn’t quite know who he wishes to be—you, or his best friend. Katsuki mutes a smile in your skin, and Eijirō wants to feel it, but he also wants his hand on your hip, and he wants, he wants—

“Oi, Shitty Hair—the pancakes are on fire.”

Eijirō looks down at charred circles he once called pancakes. He wants to cry.

With a snort, Katsuki moves past you to grab a plate. Then, he’s nudging Eijirō in the shoulder, and the redhead starts plating the useless ones with a pout.

“I can’t believe I messed up the first batch,” he whines, because now they’ll have half the amount they normally would for leftovers. And, he was sort of hoping to not cook breakfast tomorrow. (Though, he’s not as sad about it as he’d like to be—which makes him even more annoyed with himself, in turn.)

Katsuki just rolls his eyes, setting the burnt plate aside, probably to let it cool before throwing it away. “What the fuck was so fascinating outside?”

Eijirō’s eyes flicker to the window he was allegedly looking out of—he doesn’t really remember, to be honest—and irritation floods his being tenfold as he huffs, “Dude, literally nothing. Literally zoned out.”

Which is a half-lie—he did zone out—and luckily, Katsuki’s back is turned to grab the bowl of batter, so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Eijirō can lie, as long as he isn’t looking Katsuki in the eyes.

But, Katsuki turns around with a knowing smirk, like he does know it’s a lie. That makes Eijirō doubt his lying capabilities.

“Uh-huh,” he hums, and starts pouring pancakes in perfect circles while barely looking. Which, Eijirō thinks is wholly unfair—he has to really lock in, and even then, they come out vaguely dinosaur shaped. Don’t ask him why. He doesn’t know.

“Ooh! I want a heart pancake!”

Katsuki eyes finally leave Eijirō—thank God, he can breathe now—to narrow at you. “…Baby. I just poured the last one.”

But, Katsuki knows you’re not going to let up, as does Eijirō. You have that look in your eyes when you want something, and want it now.

Before you can even open your mouth, Katsuki’s warning, “Wait for the next batch.”

You whine and melt, propping your chin onto the island counter with the biggest pout known to man. The most effective pout, because Eijirō would fold for it time and time again, if he had the chance.

“But, I want it now,” you whimper, and while Katsuki sighs out of his nose, Eijirō has an idea.

He walks over to a small cupboard, the one with the straws and syrup cups, and dips a hand between both for a container of toothpicks. Thanks to Katsuki, they always have some on deck—because, every time they go out to eat, Katsuki is convinced he has something in his teeth, and simultaneously convinced that everyone is lying to him, including his phone camera. So, Eijirō sacrifices one of Katsuki’s holy toothpicks to bend a bubbling pancake into a heart. It only kind of works.

“Fuckin—no, Shitty Hair, y’gotta start from the middle an’ go down—”

“No! Start with the edges first! If he takes too long, my heart is gonna have a round bottom!”

“…Y’know who else has a round bottom—”

“Finish that statement and you’re fired, Katsuki. This is serious business.”

Eijirō Kirishima cannot function under this conditions.

“Guys,” he chokes, looking down at what is now a squiggly mess of pancake. It looks nothing like a heart, but definitely an accurate depiction of how Eijirō’s heart feels—squishy and out of shape and useless. Like an amoeba. Or a blobfish.

Yeah. His heart feels like a blobfish.

“I give up.”

He releases the cake-covered toothpick, and it sticks to the counter in a quietly depressing splat. Katsuki huffs, shoving him out of the way to snatch the toothpick and try himself. And, try he does.

But, the issue is that the pancakes are cooking quick—the others have already been flipped and now, they’re almost ready. Meanwhile, the flailing heart shaped pancake is burnt around the edges and gooey in the middle, but they’re still committed.

Eventually, the three of you look at the burnt ball of dough with a sigh.

“We tried. On that front, we get an A, right?”

“If you look at it from the side and squint your eyes…it, like…kind of looks like an actual heart, so I say yeah.”

“…It looks like shit.”

You all prepare to eat the successful pancakes in a dejected silence. You end up cutting a heart out of your pancake instead. Eijirō eats the corners.

6ixeyes

How gay are you for your bro????

redredriot

um. probably gayer than i should b.

6ixeyes

Wait, srsly

Beach is bad. Beach is horrible—Eijirō will never beach again.

‘Guys, I wanna go to the beach,’ you said. ‘It’s so hot today, it’ll be fun,’ you said. ‘Eijirō’s going to be so miserable, and have to fight a hard-on the entire time,’ you didn’t say. He should’ve seen it coming.

Because, if he can barely handle you in pajamas, how the hell is he supposed to be chill while you practically prance around the sand in a bra and panties. He’s going to cry.

And, Katsuki—Katsuki isn’t helping one bit.

“God, fuckin’ look at her,” he groans, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose. You’re in the water alone, because Katsuki refuses to (’I’m not gettin’ fuckin’ wet just to have fuck-ass sand stick to me—no.’) and honestly, Eijirō would join you if he wasn’t suffering. “Ain’t she a pretty li’l thing.”

And like, what is Eijirō supposed to say to that? What is the socially correct thing to say when your bro is frothing over his girl. Do you agree, and possibly look like you want to fuck her, or do you not agree, and by proxy, call his girlfriend ugly?

Eijirō decides not responding is the safest option. He focuses on the self-help book in his lap, but he’s can’t read right now. The words rearrange into something accusatory, and it’s undeniable:

YOU ARE THE ASSHOLE.

Fuck.

“Don’t know how I bagged that,” Katsuki mutters to himself, before reclining underneath the umbrella. Because he burns too easy, and the sun makes him sleepy, and—why does Eijirō know this? He doesn’t need to know this.

“Awh, c’mon dude,” he shoves Katsuki in the shoulder from his seated spot in the sun. His words come out stilted and awkward, because how do you let your bro know he’s a catch without letting him know you’d probably be down to suck his dick. “You’re, like…hot. You guys are the same level of hotness.”

Katsuki snorts, and rolls his head until it’s facing Eijirō. He cracks an eye open. “D’you think I’m hot?”

Eijirō chokes on air. What kind of question is that.

“I mean,” he blows a raspberry and shrugs, and suddenly, can’t look at his roommate. He watches the horizon until you shift into frame, and then, he switches to the sky. “Yeah, of course, Dude. You’re, like, an objectively hot guy.”

“Objectively,” Katsuki repeats, and Eijirō’s eyes dart to the side just in time to see that quiet smirk from earlier return, from breakfast when Eijirō lied before, and he’s starting to worry Katsuki might be onto him. Which is not good. Not good at all.

“Yep, mhm.” His eyes squint into the sun, in hopes it’ll burn his retinas and give him some form of brain-fried amnesia. That would be great. When it doesn’t work, Eijirō finds himself rummaging through the snack bag instead, hoping that stuffing his mouth shut might keep him from saying anything stupid.

“Oi,” Katsuki perks up. “I want fuckin’ grapes.”

Eijirō laughs, nearly collapsing his face into the snack bag when the arm he rests weight on starts to wobble. “Lucky for you, we brought ‘fuckin’ grapes.’”

“I know, that’s why I said it, Dumbass,” Katsuki faux-bristles. “Feed ‘em to me.”

Eijirō swallows.

“Uh, no Dude, feed them to yourself,” he snorts (and very proud of how he played it off, thank you) and grabs a protein bar out of the bag, along with a Ziploc bag of grapes with a melting ice pack in it. He drops them at Katsuki’s side, but Katsuki knocks them over like a petulant cat.

“My hands are sandy,” he says like it’s obvious, and lifts them up. Respectfully, they are not sandy—but ‘sandy’ to Katsuki means that his hands can feel the ‘sand dust,’ or whatever he said, and Katsuki is stubborn. Eijirō knows he won’t have his grapes untainted.

“Then get Y/N to do it,” he grunts, teeth preoccupied with tearing the label away from his protein bar. “She’ll be out soon, I think.”

“No,” Katsuki groans, loud and useless, and grabs the bag of grapes at his side to chuck them at Eijirō’s head. And, chuck them he does—it gets Eijirō in the side of his face, and the flaxen blond snorts at the sound. “Her hands‘re gonna be all sandy and salty. You do it.”

Eijirō scratches his scalp and sighs.

Eijirō Kirishima, at twenty-six years old, is being forced to feed his Bro grapes on the beach like Katsuki is Cleopatra, while you frolic in the water, half-naked and mouth-watering. What series of events led him here, exactly?

“Then just, like…eat it out the bag, or something.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow beneath his aviators. “If you don’t, I’m telling Y/N that you think she’s hot.”

Eijirō stiffens.

“Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine—fine,” Eijirō huffs, and feels his face go hot as he scoots closer. Katsuki gives him a self-satisfied smirk, like he enjoys watching his best friend fumble like an oaf. Over him—over you.

This is so not fair.

Katsuki crosses arms behind his head while Eijirō pops the Ziploc open. Eijirō’s not exactly sure how to go about this, but once he picks a firm grape with no strange squishy spots (Katsuki will have a fit), Katsuki’s lips part, and Eijirō just…drops the grape right in there. Katsuki’s jaw pops as he chews with a nod, like the redhead did good in finding a grape he deems decent enough. It makes him feel all warm and gooey, like a chocolate cookie fresh out the oven, and because Eijirō can blame that feeling on the sun, he lets himself bask in it a bit.

It gets quiet, save for the crashing of waves, music from teenagers seated not too far from them, and the occasional pop of a grape. It’s kind of nice—he finds a rhythm, and space in between Katsuki’s chomps and grabbing grapes to nibble on his protein bar, which is gone quick. He must be hungrier than he thought…We should get actual food soon.

Eijirō zones out, thinking about possible food options and how, honestly, he could go for any of them. Then, he feels something round in his hands, and turns to Katsuki, who’s staring at him with a scrutiny that makes Eijirō think he’s got something on his face. He purses his lips, trying to figure out what Katsuki wants for based off expressions—and finds nothing. He finds nothing that he wants to see, and everything he doesn’t—from the sweat forming in Katsuki’s cupids bow, to freckle in his hairline that darkens with the sun, to the curve of his brows and color in his cheeks.

“…What?”

Katsuki blinks himself out of whatever that was, and the lax expression on his face turns into a scowl as he points.

“Grape.”

redredriot

why does that even matter tho

6ixeyes

Ngl, bc I’m going thru somn similar and tryna figure it out LMAO

redredriot

oh damn my condolences bro

For the third time today, Eijirō would like to know how the fuck he got into this predicament.

You come out the water like a…a fucking beach goddess, water clinging to your form like a sheer dress with sand as an jewelry. The sun seems to agree, as it douses you in something ethereal, something just for you.

Eijirō wants to tear his hair out. He’s already suffering because of one set of sweaty tits, he doesn’t need another—

“What are you guys doing?” You snort after getting enough to see Eijirō hover another grape over your boyfriend’s mouth. The redhead pouts.

“I’m being forced into servitude!”

“I see that,” you laugh, and instead of sitting next to Katsuki, you sit next to Eijirō. He tells himself it’s because you need to dry off, and he’s sat in the sun—not that Katsuki minds, seemingly content on consuming grapes from Eijirō’s hand for the foreseeable future. You squish your wet side into Eijirō’s to get a look in the snack bag, and he shivers for all the wrong reasons.

“Ah! You’re cold!”

Plays it off well, though.

“Sorry,” you giggle, but don’t move until you pull out a fruit roll-up, snatching a grape on the way back. “Damn Kat, you ate all the grapes—fat ass bitch.”

Eijirō didn’t even notice, and looks into his lap—where you just had your hand, mind you—to a severely empty bag, now mainly left with undesirables.

“Oh, right, it’s fat ass bitch now, but later it’s ‘oh my god, Kat, your muscles—oh my god, Kat, you’re so big—oh my god—”

Eijirō is going to die.

Katsuki mocks your voice with an unsteady and nasally falsetto, causing you to reach behind Eijirō, balancing a hand on his shoulder while you try to wack your boyfriend in the head. You miss due to range, and because Katsuki sways his head right with a cackle.

“That is not how I sound,” you hiss, resigning yourself to the other side of Eijirō, even though you could easily walk over to give Katsuki a piece of your mind. He shrugs, eyes flitting to Eijirō, and, uh oh, why is he—

“Oh, that’s totally how you sound,” but he’s looking at Eijirō, like he could confirm, and he doesn’t think the blond talking about how you sound outside the bedroom. Fuck. “Right?”

He’s not asking you—he’s asking Eijirō.

And Eijirō, poor Eijirō, quickly looks out to sea like it’ll put a partition between him and this conversation. Maybe, he should try to burn his retinas again. Maybe, he didn’t try hard enough.

He plays dumb.

“Don’t include me in your couple’s quarrel, Dude!” He says, but its more to the sky. “I’m not even here. I’m a ghost. I’m invisible.”

“Well. In that case,” Katsuki grunts. You squeal as your arm gets yanked in Eijirō’s peripheral, falling behind him and into the sand with a thump. “C’mere.”

“Kat—mmph!”

Who knew kissing could be so loud?

If Eijirō lets out a tear, it’s because his fucking dick hurts.

AITA FOR HAVING WANTING TO FUCK MY BEST FRIENDS’ GIRLFRIEND?

u/redredriot

edit: kay my bro is kinda hot but that just makes things SO MUCH WORSE WHAT DO I DO???????

bigdaddytamaki

petition to be a third!

sasakilovesmiyano

Plot-MF-Twist, I’m so invested.

kusuo_saiki

Get a therapist.

redredriot

THATS WHAT YALL ARE FOR

komicommunicatesverywell

Or get a girlfriend!

That night, Eijirō commits a sin.

It’s not his fault—he’s pent up, because you guys are pent up. He had to drive that fucking car, dammit, and had to ignore the fact that he enjoyed watching you and Katsuki makeout in the rearview mirror more than he should.

And, it’s not his fault again, because you and Katsuki decide to fuck in the living room—the living room that his door faces. It’s like you’re trying to kill him, at this point.

So. Maybe, he leaves his door cracked. It’s not like it matters—moonlight spills through the window above his bed, and barely illuminates te edges. While you engage in foreplay, Eijirō gets ready for bed (skips brushing his teeth, because he’s impatient, and so, so horny) and by the time he’s sliding under the covers, you’re sat comfortably between Katsuki’s legs with a full mouth.

“Fuck yeah, Baby—just like that.”

Tucked under his duvet, Eijirō shucks his boxers down to his hips and grabs himself. His eyes flutter at the feeling, underwear and cock soaked enough that anyone lacking context would assume he already came. Meaning, the slide is easy, and he peeks through the doorway and into the lovingly lit living room.

Eijirō shouldn’t be doing this. He also shouldn’t be obsessed with the way his best friend’s cock fits in your mouth. Not all the way, but enough to make you tear and choke and gag. All Eijirō can really see is the back of your head and Katsuki’s blissed out face, both of which he thinks is wildly unfair.

Katsuki shivers, and it’s a full body affair. Eijirō’s hand wraps tight around the base of his dick because, jeez. Give a guy a warning before you do something really hot next time?

Katsuki lets out something akin to a whimper, which was not a sound he thought his bro could make. But now, he wants to hear it again and again, and possibly occasionally be the reason, every once in a while.

You’re not any better—you’re humming around his cock like you’re the one getting a blowjob, and it’s messy, Eijirō can fucking hear it, and it’s driving him insane. Katsuki grabs ahold of your hair and tugs, causing you to mewl, fall further down his cock, then choke. Katsuki groans and Eijirō stifles his own, praying to every God out there that he remains sane after tonight.

It’s a losing battle.

“Yeah? Y’like imagining that this is his cock, huh?” Katsuki takes control, moving your head at his will, and Eijirō’s arm flexes to match the pace. You whine, and Katsuki chuckles. “Dirty fuckin’ girl.”

You huff, irritated, and pinching Katsuki in his inner thigh, which earns you a jolt and a groan. Wow, Eijirō’s learning so many new things today. Like how you get cock drunk easy, and that Katsuki’s a pain slut. And Eijirō, who will never have any use for this information, stores it anyways.

Katsuki tips his head back and moans at something, and for a moment, Eijirō worries he’s been seen. Only for a moment—the ice in his blood is gone as quick as it came as Katsuki’s eyes flit back to you, and melts straight into his dick. No, despite what his dick says, he does not want to be caught—because that would be very, very bad.

As time goes on, he seems to care less about getting caught, too preoccupied with getting his fix. Which, makes him sound like an addict, but it’s not his fault, you guys are fucking right outside his door.

Eijirō nearly cums when Katsuki pulls you off his dick. Debates on it, for a good while.

Your mouth is swollen, with teary eyes to match the gloss of spit and pre-cum on your lips. Eijirō knows, because Katsuki pulls you up and sits you right on his dick, with your back pressed flush to his chest. And, like, Eijirō’s imagined this moment—the moment where he finally sees you naked—but figured it’d be some panicked walk in, a time when he wouldn’t be able to take in all of you and regret it, and most definitely not this.

Your bathing suit is still on, but barely. It’s misshapen and askew and doesn’t cover what it’s supposed to, covers the exact opposite of what it’s supposed to, actually. Eijirō bites back a groan.

“F-Fuck, Kat—’s too big,” you huff, wiping at the corners of your lips like you might be drooling. Are you drooling? Or is it leftover from the fucking amazing head he just watched you give his best friend?

Katsuki coos, clutching you tight to his body like you might scramble. His other hand holds your thigh open, enough that Eijirō can see your entrance stretch around Katsuki’s cock, and he wants to scream.

“You can take it,” he insists, low and heavy, but still loud enough for Eijirō to hear. You whimper and collapse into his chest, and the hand that holds you upright drifts, tweaking and pinching where it deems fit. “Y’wanna put on a show, don’t you?”

That’s the first time Eijirō catches it. A show for who?

You nod, but push at the couch cushions like you regret letting Katsuki in to begin with. Is this how you look every night? If so, Eijirō’s going to need you two to start fucking on the couch more often, ASAP.

“K-Kat, I can’t—”

Katsuki’s free hand finds your clit then, and whatever you were going to say is left to the wind, molded into something choked and garbled and completely unintelligible.

“What’s got you all worked up?” He snorts, like he’s any better, like he isn’t flushed to his chest and fluttering his eyes every time you shift just right. Eijirō squeezes the base of his dick.

You clumsily shove your boyfriend in the side of the head, who’s thrusts never falter. “Fuck you, you know why—Oh my god, Kat, slow the fuck down—”

“No,” he huffs with petulance, before, if anything, speeding up. “You’re greedy—you can take it.”

“It’s—” your leg kicks, seemingly involuntary, and Katsuki laughs at it. “That’s different.”

God, you whine is the same during sex and in the kitchen. How the fuck is he supposed to hear that the same again.

“How,” Katsuki chuckles, and pinches your clit. You squirm and tuck your head in his neck. “How the fuck are you supposed to take both of us when you can barely take me, huh? It’d be worse with Eijirō’s fat ass on top of you—shit—”

Now.

Eijirō has three thoughts, all of which he thinks at the exact same time:

hey! he’s not fat! he’s well-muscled with the right amount of squish!

damn kat…you think his ass is fat, though?

wait. why are we saying his name, why are we saying his name, why are saying his name—

The third thought is the loudest and lasts much longer than the rest, lasts perpetually, actually, and Eijirō almost cums at hearing Katsuki say his name. His actual name—not Shitty Hair, not Fuck-Face or Dumbass, but Eijirō—and while having sex, no less! With his girlfriend! What the fuck is this?!

You moan even louder, like you like that idea, like that’s something you could be into, and Eijirō doesn’t know what to make of that. Katsuki doesn’t seem to care, and Eijirō doesn’t know what to make of that, either. All he knows is that he’s cumming regardless, despite his best efforts, biting tight into the fat of his hand with a strained groan that he really, really hopes no one heard.

He’s so confused.

He still watches, though—watches you cum on Katsuki’s cock twice before he’s stuffing you full with a groan of his own, eyes trained on the gap between Eijirō’s door. Like he knows Eijirō is still watching, even if you two have been fucking for over an hour.

Eijirō waits until you both peel away from the couch and pad into the bathroom before moving a muscle. He finally gets up to close the door, and scrapes at the dried cum on his stomach with an old t-shirt until his skin turns red, and frowns as he watches it flake. What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—

He needs to update Reddit. He needs to know what to do.

AITA FOR HAVING WANTING TO FUCK MY BEST FRIENDS’ GIRLFRIEND?

u/redredriot

edit: THEY MIGHT WANNA FUCK ME TOO???????

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

But there is no species that gets under his skin the way that cats do. He can’t stand their fur that shed and get every fucking where so he winds up sneezing and his eyes swell. He hates how active they get at night, meowing and running around with their nocturnal asses until he’s up for hours. He hates how prissy and high-maintence they are, requiring 24 hours of attention, the right type of cat food, and a human servant to wait on them hand and foot.

So when Toji, his longtime roommate, pitched the idea of getting a cat of the blue while running errands, Sukuna was, of course, very against the idea. The only reason Toji even brought up the idea of adopting a cat was because they passed by a quaint, disgustingly cute pet store where a special on cats for National Cat Day was happening. 

Toji stood in front of a makeshift fence made to keep the kittens inside, staring down in adoration at the furry little things meowing, playing, and leaping around. Specifically the soft-looking black one with the pretty eyes and tiny mews. “We’re not gettin’ one,” Sukuna growled. 

Toji glared at him, irritated by Sukuna’s lack of enthusiasm. “Well, you ain’t, but I am. C’mon, man, she’s a cutie, ain’t she?” He gently scooped the kitten up from the runt, her tiny body fitting right in his big hands. The kitten stared up at him curiously with those big, irresistible eyes. “Just look at her eyes. And those cute little ears.” 

Toji fell in love right on the spot, scritching behind her ears and under her chin with his thick fingers. “Hey, darlin’,” he coos. “Oooo, you like that? I hit juuuust the spot, didn’t I?” The kitten’s eyes fluttered shut and her body rumbled as she began to purr from the petting. “Purrrrrrr~” 

Sukuna looked away from the disgusting scene, right over at the old woman pretending to admire the tabby kittens when really she was eye-fucking Toji. “Stop before this old lady squirts in front of me,” he hissed. “And stop talkin’ to it like that. We ain’t gettin’ it.” 

Toji glared at his room, still scritching the kitten’s ears. “And why the fuck not?” 

“We don’t have the space for a damn pet! Who’s gonna take care of it while you’re at work?” As a tattoo artist, Sukuna definitely didn’t (and wasn’t) going to have the time to care for it. Toji is a mechanic, so he works long hours too, always coming home covered in car oil and groaning from being on his aching knees all day. 

How the fuck are two working, forty-something year old men going to take care of a little kitten? Paying for taxes and groceries every two weeks is bad enough!

“I guess not you,” Toji scoffed, nuzzling the kitten’s head with his chin. But she will be fine! I’ll feed her, potty train her an’ everything so she don’t bother your bitchy ass.” As if listening and hearing him, the kitten mewed at Toji and nuzzled into his cheek, still purring. “C’mon, Kuna,” he pouted. “How can you resist her? She’s adorable!” 

The kitten turned to Sukuna then, her eyes glistening curiously. Sukuna stared at the cat, noticing something…different about her. Something un-feline that didn’t match the other kittens behind the fence. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished when the kitten purred as Toji’s big hand petted her head, pushing her ears back. So he caved. “Fine, but she’d better behave or I’m gettin’ rid of her. One mess and she’s out.” 

Toji grinned like a little kid and excitedly held the kitten up to his face. “You heard that, little one? You’re comin’ home with me.” And he raced inside the pet shop with the kitten in tow to sign the papers that day. 

For the next 24 hours, Toji was doting on his new pet while Sukuna stayed out of the way and stocked up on allergy medicine. But you were a brattier feline than either of the men anticipated…and you weren’t even a real feline. Not entirely. 

That night, after falling asleep on the couch to the last season of “The Boys”, Sukuna passed out somewhere during episode 4 only to be woken up by something tickling his thigh. He grumbled, flicking it away, only to feel it again minutes later. “Damn bugs,” he growled, opening his eyes and looking across the couch to see– 

“Jesus!” he yelps, nearly falling off of the couch. His startled yell scared you out of your sleep. You curled up with a blanket covering you, furry black ears and a tail attached to your head and backside. Your eyes glistened as you stared at him, wide and glowing in the dark. 

Sukuna jumped up from the couch, alarmed at the stranger in his apartment. “Who the fuck are you?! How’d you get in here?!” You didn’t reply, sitting up on your knees where the blanket slid down to reveal your naked tits. “And why the fuck are you naked?!” Sukuna grunted. 

Nevermind the fact that you had the best rack he’s seen in ages! So pretty and soft and plump-looking. Just aching to be sucked and tweaked and pinched and massaged and fucked with his big, fat c– 

Suddenly, a light flickered on, casting the living room in a soft, warm glow. Toji stood in the doorway of his bedroom in his KFC bucket-printed boxers and a T-shirt, yawning. “The hell are you on about, Sukuna? It’s 6 in the fuckin’ morning.” But all sleep immediately faded when he got a look at you sitting on the couch. 

“Master!” you happily say. Your tail stood up happily and your fluffy ears pricked, excited to see your owner. Toji scowled, just as confused as his roommate as you flung yourself off the couch and scurried over to him with the blanket wrapped around you. 

“Master?” Sukuna parroted, confused. “You know her? What, did you fuck her last night and forget?” Toji stared at you, utterly disturbed at why a strange girl was standing in his apartment naked with cat ears.

“I don’t…wait. That collar.” He turned your chin up where you proudly flaunted the pretty pink collar where a gold nametag hung with your name printed on it. The same collar he got the kitten. Toji’s eyes glistened with recognition. “Y/N? That you, sweetheart?” 

At the mention of your name, you smiled at him, all joy and affection. “Master,” you purred. “Snuggle.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, barely grazing his broad chest. Toji grinned, hugging you tight, recognizing his sweet kitty. “I knew there was somethin’ special ‘bout you. You’re one of those cat girls, ain’tcha?” 

You purred and snuggled into your owner’s chest, in your own little world with him. But Sukuna wasn’t having it. “She ain’t stayin’. How the fuck do you expect us to pay for another fuckin’ human in here?!”

“But she’s a cat too,” Toji argued. “And nobody’s askin’ you to pay for her; I will. She’s MINE.” He protectively held you as he glared at Sukuna, stubborn and unrelenting. “C’mooon, just look at the girl!” He turned to you around to face Sukuna and maybe it was the beer he consumed beforehand, but…something in your eyes grabbed at the pink-haired tattooer. 

Not that he liked you or anything. But still, he wasn’t a monster. Just an asshole. He groaned, pinching his sinuses. He felt a headache coming on, both from the cat hair flying about and the current situation. “Fine, but make sure she stays in your room. And remember: one mess and she’s out.” 

Turns out one mess turned into many. Catgirl or regular cat, you were prone to doing cat-like things, like knocking shit over on the table and destroying toilet paper. You showed up in unwanted areas, like when Sukuna was showering, and you constantly meowed for attention. 

As the months went by, the two roommates quickly realized that you shifted into your cat and human forms depending on the time of day and on your mood. In the daytime, you were a little kitten prancing around on all fours, furry and fucking up Sukuna’s sinuses. But at night, you were a curious, adorably sexy human woman, all up under Toji like you were cold. 

And Toji was hooked. He no longer invited any hookup over (probably because he was too busy fucking you), instead spending all his time with you after he got home. He couldn’t wait to get home to you just to stroke your fluffy ears and tail just to hear you purr for him. 

He used all his money to buy you the cutest outfits and the prettiest collars for your neck, bedazzled with gems and bells to hear you coming when he called your name or clucked his tongue to signal for you. He spoiled you rotten, always taking you to the park on warm days or to the pet shop to buy you more treats and toys that you didn’t need. 

Toji was totally determined to be the best pet owner to his little kitty. And Sukuna detested every minute of it, especially since his roommate’s pleasure was at the expense of his discomfort. 

Mostly because he was tired of hearing Toji fuck your brains out through the bedroom walls at night and seeing you slink around in those damn ruffled mini skirts and sundresses Toji insisted on buying you that Sukuna definitely didn’t think make you look so cute and sexy in. He was sick of your shit. 

So one morning before work when he came in to see you sitting on the couch in your cat form, like you shouldn’t have been, he had a fit. “Oi!” he bellowed. “Get the fuck down! Why the fuck are you on my couch?!” 

You stared up at him, unbothered, and made a mean grumble when Sukuna stormed over to you. “Damn fur ball. Don’t growl at me or I’ll skin you.” But he didn’t dare pick you up. Last time he did that, he got a deep scratch on his hand that bled for hours. Because you couldn’t speak in your little cat body, you began to loudly meow, signaling for your Master. 

Toji came running in, dressed in sweats and ready for coffee. “What’s up, baby?” he cooed, coming right over to you. “Aye, you fightin’ with Y/N again? I think you woke her up.” You sweetly meowed and purred for Toji as he petted your backside, unfurling from your loaf to stretch in greeting.  

“She ain’t supposed to be on the couch. I told you this a million times, asshole. Remember my allergies?” Sukuna sniffled, already feeling his nose becoming itchy. Toji gave him an apologetic smile, secretly laughing. “Ohh, riiiiight, you’re allergic. We got plenty of medicine in the bathroom for that.” 

“That’s not the point,” Sukuna groaned. “I don’t want all that fuckin’ cat hair on my—did she scratch up my couch?!” He eyed the tattered fabric on the couch, looking suspiciously like cat claw marks. Toji picked you up, cradling you. 

“Oops. Y/N, honey, I thought I told you no scratchin’ the couch up.” You purred in his arms, blinking up at him with those magnetic eyes. Toji melted, ever so in love with you. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he cooed, giving you heart eyes as he scritched behind your ears. 

Sukuna rolled his eyes at the disgusting display. “This prissy little pussy is gettin’ on my nerves. I’m about to throw her in the street.” Toji rolled his eyes at his roommate’s dramatics. “No, you’re not. You love her just as much as I do!” 

“No, I don’t. I only tolerate her ‘cause she’s yours. You’re the only one she even likes.” You were all lovey-dovey and sunshine for Toji, but all Sukuna got were hisses, growls, and occasional scratches if he happened to pick you up or get too close. You didn’t like him and he sure as hell didn’t like you either. 

“That’s because I don’t yell at her or swat her with newspaper or call her names,” Toji said accusingly. “Of course, she loves her Master more. Right, kitten?” He snuggled you into his chest, your purrs loud enough to be heard from down the block. 

Sukuna pretended to gag and stormed into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee before popping on the rest of The Boys. It was his day off and he was going to enjoy it. “God, get a fuckin’ room,” he growled. 

“Someone’s jealous,” Toji chuckled to which Sukuna gave him the middle finger. “Listen, I’ll probably be late today with work, so just take care of her while I’m gone?” Sukuna turned, staring at his roomie like he was insane. And he was. “Da fuck I look like? I’m not her owner.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not here to care for her,” Toji stressed, looking absolutely gutted at leaving you alone for so long. He was usually back in the afternoons after a job at the mechanic shop, but today was one of his days he wanted to work overtime. “Just feed her and try not to skin her, alright? Be nice to my girl.” 

He took your paw and held it up for Sukuna, showing off your cute, pink toe beans. Sukuna sighed and grabbed a mug before turning away to brew himself a pot of coffee. “Whatever.” 

As he tried to ignore the cute sounds of your meows and purrs, Toji spoke again. “Wish you would just give her a chance. She really is a sweetheart, Kuna. Trust me: one day, this little darlin’ is gonna rub off on you.” 

But Sukuna ignored him, only hoping that you didn’t piss on his couch or shred his clothes while your Master was gone. How was he going to survive a day alone with such a little brat on his hands? 

•••••••••••••• 

Hours later, the day turned into night and it was raining cats and dogs. “Jesus,” he muttered, watching the downpour from his window. 

The window overlooked the cityscape outside, droplets of water pouring down the glass. It was the perfect night in; rainy, dark, and gloomy. Sukuna was prepared to spend his night diving into some takeout, beer, and Netflix on the couch while Toji was still working a shift. 

But as he turned around to get started on his evening in, he realized how difficult that would be because you–the furry little thorn in his side–were lying curled up on the couch in your human form. Toji had picked up a pretty ruffled black mini dress that you’d been wearing all day, waiting for your Master to come home from work. 

You didn’t bother Sukuna much today, only making a lot of annoying sounds with your loud ass bell tinkling about as you walked around in your cat form, sipping water and playing with your barrage of toys that Sukuna always stepped on. But when he saw you lying on the couch, your knees curled up to your chest and your pretty face looking so serene, he blew a fuse. “Yo!” he growled. “Oi, get down! You can’t be up there!” 

Your furry black ears twitched as your eyes fluttered open. Sukuna tried not to take notice of how long and defined your lashes were, reminding him so much of a doll’s. Your cat-like eyes flickered up to him, your sweet voice thick with sleep. “Toji,” you murmured. “Master?” 

Sukuna felt a strange tug in his stomach when you mentioned his roomie, mistaking him for the tall mechanic. He had no idea how long you had been sitting on the couch while he wasn’t watching, but that nap must’ve knocked your brain loose a couple screws. “Your Master ain’t here. He’s at work; you know that. Now get up.” 

You sat up from your position, stretching, your tail unfurling and curling around your ankles before fanning impatiently. “Want Toji,” you grumbled. “Wanna call.” You pouted those plump, pink lips at him to which he rolled his eyes at, struggling to keep his cool. Especially with the way that tinkling gold bell attached to your collar brushed just above your sweet, juicy-looking cleavage. “Call him if ya want. Just get off the fuckin’ couch.” 

But you didn’t, still sitting there, arms crossed and lips pouted. You were a stubborn little thing, indeed. Sukuna growled like a wolf hunting his prey, becoming irritated. “Little brat. I said GET DOWN.” After sizing him up with an unbothered stare, you laid your head back down against the couch cushion. “Sleepy,” you murmured. “Cozy.” 

You snuggled into the couch as you curled your knees back up to your chest, accidentally showing off a sliver of your lace panties and a bit of your supple asscheeks underneath. Sukuna felt a hot flush enter his body at the sight and he quickly averted his eyes to the newspaper lying on the coffee table. “You little wench. If ya don’t move right now, I’ll—“ 

BOOM! 

Suddenly, you were up from your comfortable sleep position, fear and shock evident on your pretty face. Your tail poofed up from the loud noise, frazzled, and your ears shot back. “Eeeeek!” you shrieked, causing you to fly off the couch and into Toji’s bedroom to hide. Sukuna flinched as the door slammed shut, leaving him alone once more. “Da hell is her problem?” he muttered. 

But then something weird happened: he actually began to walk towards Toji’s room to see you. Comfort you. That has never happened before. He instantly stopped, one foot pausing in front of the other, as reality smacked him hard. “What the fuck are you doin’?” he asked himself. Quickly, he fetched his beer and sat down with some Netflix, ignoring the strawberry-sweet scent you left in your wake on the couch. 

As the storm raged on and the thunder boomed, lightning flashing across the living room in the darkness, Sukuna felt his eyes growing heavy somewhere between Daredevil: Born Again and Love Is Blind (he loved laughing at the mess of reality TV). But quickly, the heaviness of sleep and the rain stopped his approaching nap when he heard Toji’s bedroom door creak open.

He turned and there you stood, wrapped in a blanket, your tail literally between your legs. Your ears were still sitting back, flat against your head. The look in your eyes held nothing but fear. “Back again?” Sukuna asked, one tatted arm tossed over the back of the couch. “Ya come to apologize?” 

You didn’t answer, too busy jumping at the sound of more thunder booming, cutting through the white noise of the TV. Sukuna rolled his crimson eyes at your reactions. What a squeamish little thing. “Jeez, relax. It’s just thunder. And some lightning.” 

As soon as he said it, more lightning struck, flashing across the walls. You gasped and raced for the couch, jumping onto it with Sukuna. But then you tried to take his arm. “What the fuck are you doin’?” he growled. He snatched his arm away from you, much to your hurt expression, and shook his head as he moved over as far as he could from you. “Uh-uh, back up. I don’t do cats.” 

You stared up at him with pupils as big as moons, your eyes welling up with wet tears that made them glassy. You slunk off of the couch, shivering in your blanket, the picture of fear. “Toji,” you whimpered. “S-Scared.”

Watching you, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel like an asshole. He wasn’t pleased that you were here taking up his movie night, but he didn’t want to be a total dick to you. So as you turned to walk back to Toji’s room, alone and afraid, he caved. “Hey,” he called. You turned, confused, your ears perking up. “You can come up and sit, but no funny business. I ain’t your owner.” 

You seemed confused at first, like you couldn’t figure out if he was serious or not. But slowly, you slunk back over to the couch and sat down. You were stiff at first, all of your limbs wound tight together, but overtime as the show continued and the minutes ticked by, you sunk into the couch. Sukuna looked over at you, finding you curled up in your spot again. “Better?” 

You nodded, lazily, not quite awake, and let out a cute little yawn that tugged at his heartstrings. Maybe it was the beer. He couldn’t be actually thinking you were adorable…right? 

He didn’t overthink it, instead distracting himself with the mess and drama of Love Is Blind, humorously smirking whenever an argument happened and rolling his eyes at a kiss. The storm raged on, but you were quiet, never flinching or shrieking in fear. Perhaps this is all you needed: some company. And at some point, you fell asleep. 

When Sukuna looked over at you, he wished he hadn’t…because you were the most adorable sight he had ever seen. Curled up under the fluffy blanket, you looked so serene and peaceful, your ears twitching ever so slightly, your tail serenely flicking by your pink-painted toes. The only thing that snapped him out of it was his phone ringing. Quickly, he snatched it up so he wouldn’t wake you and answered without looking at the caller ID. “What?” he barked. 

“Hey, asshole,” Toji greeted. “How’s my baby doin’? You skin her yet?” Sukuna looked over at you snoozing away, soft purrs leaving your lips. “She’s got one more time to make all that yowlin’ again and I might,” he grumbled. He had to keep up appearances after all. 

“She’s scared,” Toji sighed, sounding worried for his poor kitty. “Poor baby. She hates the thunder. Listen, just watch over her, alright? And if you need to, pet her. It makes her less scared.” 

‘Pet her?’ Sukuna thought. ‘Pet her where?’ He grimaced, confused. “How the fuck am I supposed to–” 

“Gotta go,” Toji interrupted before he could finish asking. “Just watch over my girl. I’ll be home soon.” And then the call was finished. 

As soon as Sukuna put his phone down, he heard a slight mew and turned to find your ears twitching rapidly, your tail flicking in agitation. You were shivering under the blanket, your brows drawn in fear and distress. You then began yowling again in your sleep, that awful, pitiful sound ringing in his ears. The tattooer swallowed, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to scare you anymore than you already were…but he couldn’t see you look so damn pitiful. 

Slowly, he scooted over to you, careful not to make a sudden move or sound. Once he was within arm’s reach of you, he gently stuck out a hand and poked you. Immediately, you were awake and tossing the blanket off of you. Your eyes were sharp splits and your claws were bared, every muscle in your body tight. 

“Hey, hey, chill,” he grumbled, snatching his hand away. “It’s just me. Don’t bite me, alright?” Though you relaxed, you still looked slightly perturbed, staring at his hand adorned in ink. “This is just so you ain’t makin’ that annoyin’ ass noise. It’s not ‘cause I care. Plus, your Master keeps botherin’ me.” 

At the mention of your Master, your eyes softened. “Toji?” you whispered. Sukuna grimaced, his lips tightening. “No, I told you: he’s at work. I’m–” 

“Sukuna,” you replied. The tattooer stopped short, shocked at the sound of his name escaping your lips. You had never said his name before. It sounded strange coming from you, but also…nice. “Yeah,” he said, surprised. Your eyes jet back to his hand, staring dead at his thick fingers. “You ain’t gonna bite me, are you? Or hiss? Or scratch me?” 

To his surprise, you did neither. You were silent, tail curling curiously around your feet. Slowly, inch by inch, he reached toward you and softly petted the top of your head. Your ears shot up at the sudden contact, alarmed by the touch, but then you settled into it. “You want more?” he cooed. “Don’t get used to it. It’s just for tonight.” 

But even as he said it, he didn’t believe himself. Because the moment he began stroking your soft hair and ears, the moment he heard you purr, was the moment he started falling. Hard. He didn’t think it was possible and he couldn’t explain away the pounding of his heart or the way his stomach fluttered as he stared at your peaceful expression. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, your long lashes fanning your cheeks, as you purred nonstop at his ministrations. He never pet an animal in his life before this moment, but he was glad to know that he wasn’t terrible at it. But once you let out a soft moan at his touch, he instantly stopped, feeling his cock twitch in his sweats at the sound. 

What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t be here getting hard over his roommate’s pet! “Alright, that’s enough,” he grunted, much to your dismay and confusion. “Lemme get back to my show.” 

But he couldn’t. Because you were crawling your little self into his lap. Sukuna tensed, confused and alarmed at your change in behavior. “Whoa, whoa,” he coughed. “Da hell are you doin’? Get down. I’m not your Master.” You didn’t listen, snuggling your cheek into the hard planes of his chest. “M’cold,” you whispered. “Warm.” 

You stared up at him then with those big, glittery eyes. Eyes like a siren luring in a sailor. Sukuna blinked, feeling his face flush from the sight of your pretty face and eyes staring through your thick lashes at him, his mind taking him on a journey to his dirtier fantasies of you looking up at him like that while you sucked his fat co–

“No, no, wait,” he grunted, trying to push you off of him. “We can’t. I-I don’t like cats and you’re…you’re…” So cute. So small. So perfect. You felt so soft and warm against him, your hands laid flat against his chest, right below his hammering heart. His arms ached to hold you. His hands itched to feel you. Every part of his body yearned for you as you sat in his lap. He didn’t know what you were doing to him. 

“What are you doin’ to me, huh?” he panted, staring down at you. He made the mistake gently petting your tail, causing you to let out a tiny keen of pleasure. “Sukuna,” you murmured, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. And then your lips were on his. He told himself that you initiated first, but he couldn’t be so sure. 

All he saw were your dialed pupils before your eyes closed and your soft, plump lips touched his. He couldn’t deny it: you were a really good kisser. Your lips were supple and sweet, tasting like cherries; such as soft as your tail that tickled his skin as it curled up around his waist. He didn’t know much about cats, but when you began to purr, he could tell you were enjoying this. 

So he allowed himself to slowly touch you, stroking up your thighs; your spine through your backless dress; your soft tail. Then his lips were on your neck, shoulders, and jawline, his lips touching places that made your nipples harden beneath your dress. He could feel them press against his chest as you arched yourself into his touch, your soft moans and keens driving him up the brink of insanity. 

Now, your body wasn’t tense from fear anymore. It was all pleasure. Even as the storm grew louder and stronger, you didn’t flinch or run. Instead, you stayed in Sukuna’s lap, straddling him now. 

“Please,” you whimpered. “More.” The tattooer eyed you, his cock throbbing beneath your lace panties. “More?” he asked in a deep tone thick with arousal. “Tell me where, little one.” 

His hand brushed your back, making the hairs on your neck stand up. He smirked, loving that he had such power over you now…the same way you did over him. He let you take his hand and guide it, blushing when you guided his fingers between your thighs. “Right here?” he panted, feeling you throb against his fingertips. “You want my fingers right here?” 

Slowly, you nodded, your eyes hooded and lips parted as you softly moaned when he began rubbing you. He kept his movements slow, allowing you to pull away if you chose to…but you didn’t. You stared at him as he kept stroking your pussy through your panties, your lips becoming puffy and soaked from his thick fingers. 

This was so wrong. So bad. You were Toji’s pet! His perfect girl! And yet…. 

Sukuna’s eyes ticked up to meet yours, seeing nothing but lust there. “Feels good?” he asked. He began to rub your clit with his thumb, causing you to moan and close your eyes from the feeling. He grunted in disapproval, stopping his rubbing. “Look at me and tell me,” he firmly ordered. “Tell me how I feel pettin’ that little pussy.” 

You whimpered at his words, opening your eyes, shining like a cat’s in the darkness. “S-So good,” you stammered. He could see how hard your nipples were now, not to mention how soaked you’d grown. His fingers practically dripped with you. “I-Inside? Can you, Kuna? Please?” 

Those soft, hopeful eyes stared into his, begging him for exactly what he thought you wanted. What he secretly always wanted after listening to Toji praise your pussy through the thin walls at night, the headboard banging and your sweet cries filling the apartment. “So polite,” he chuckled. “So fuckin’ sweet. But you’re still a brat.” 

He drew a squeak out of you as he suddenly snatched you up and sat you in his lap, your back to his front, your tail tickling his stomach. “You need to be punished for that,” he whispered before gently kissing your soft, furry ear. He nibbled on it slightly, drawing another gasp out of you. 

His thick fingers swirled around the wet spot of your pussy before he pulled your panties aside, your thighs spread wide to welcome him. He groaned at the sight of you–so soft and pretty, pink on the inside with the most gorgeous puffy pussy lips and a nest of trimmed curls leading down to your honeypot. “You’re so spoiled. You’ve got Toji wrapped around your little claw.” 

Snap! He tugged on the waistband of your panties and snapped them back against your skin, smirking when you keened at the sensation. “But I ain’t Toji. I’m gonna make you work for this.” 

SMACK! 

You let out a mix of a moan and a yelp as his hand roughly smacked against your pussy, his palm becoming sticky with your juices. Slowly, he stuck one finger in, growing harder at the noises you made as he gently finger-fucked you, getting you used to him. You were so used to Toji and his sex, so he wondered if he was able to make you feel just as good with his fingers…and maybe his cock too. 

His thoughts could only get dirtier than the gutter as your moans, gasps, and whimpers filled the air, your soft thighs shaking around his hand as he curled his finger up to rub your G-spot. You leaned your head back into his chest, those eyes closing against the pleasure he was giving you. “S’kuna!” you moaned, squeezing his wrist in your tiny hand. “P-Please more! N-Need…need you!” Sukuna’s cock twitched in his sweats, damn near putting a hole in it. 

“You want more?” he huskily asked in your twitching ear. You only whimpered and nodded, probing him to slowly slide his middle finger in. Your mouth fell slack as your pussy gushed around his digits, soaking them. “How ‘bout this? Is this what you want, kitty?” he growled, pumping his fingers in and out, making sloshing sounds in your tight, wet cunt. 

His mind drifted as his thick fingers fucked you out of your fear. In his head, he replaced his fingers with his cock instead, fucking you till you cried and creamed all around him, dripping down his balls until they emptied inside of you, filling your pussy to the brim. As you squeezed around his fingers, his dick got stiffer until he was rubbing against you, much to your enjoyment. “You close?” he whispered in your ear. “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight! Squeezin’ ‘round me so good…” 

He fucked you a bit more intensely, speeding up, not caring if his knuckles got tired. He wanted you to cum for him. To scream in pleasure. To give him everything he wanted. Finally, your moans grew louder, bouncing off of the walls as lightning flashed against your pretty face.“Kuna….m’close! So close!” you squeaked. 

He grinned, endorphins pouring inside of his veins at the sheer fact that he was making you this submissive for him. “Cum for me, kitty. Just this once. Let me make that pussy cum f’me.” He suckled on your furry ear and continued his thrusting, loving how slick you made his hand. Finally, with a broken mew, you came all over his fingers. 

It was glorious and entertaining watching you cum for him. Even more entertaining than anything on TV! The way your ears flew back and your tail curled into a knot as you moaned so sweetly into the quiet living room sent shivers down his spine. He groaned when he felt your pussy spasm and clench around him, making him yearn to feel your pussy walls clamp around his dick in the same manner. 

You soaked his fingers down to the knuckles, leaving his palm sticky and wet. After your muscles relaxed and you let out a tiny sigh when your orgasm high faded, he slowly slid his fingers out of you and placed them up to your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered. You did so, opening your mouth to suck on his digits, your wet tongue slipping and sliding along his fingers. He grinned, satisfied with your submissiveness. You must’ve been sooo needy without your Master here. “Good girl,” he uttered, making you turn to stare at him. You seemed shocked that he would dare let such praise slip past his lips. 

Realizing his fuck-up, he cleared his throat, his cheeks hot. “Um…that was–whoa!” But before he could finish, you were sliding off of his lap and staring at him with a look of hot lust. He could hardly breathe as he watched you slink down to your knees, your tits nearly dripping out of your mini dress, looking like a picture of sex. 

Sukuna sat back, watching you, his cock throbbing in his sweats. “So you think you just own the place, huh? Slinkin’ ‘round here in them little dresses and all that lingerie…” 

He couldn’t stand it when Toji bought you such sexy outfits, mostly because he couldn’t fuck you in them. It was almost like Toji was teasing him, letting you flaunt your body in your cute little dresses, booty short pajamas, and lacey sets. But he certainly wasn’t complaining watching you kneel before him now in one of your little numbers.

You began to indulge in his muscular body, running your claws up his thighs to his stomach, peeling his shirt up to reveal his abs and tattoos. He groaned at the feeling of your sharp claws dragging against his skin. “Shit,” he panted. “Da hell do you think you’re doin’, huh? You can’t just…oh, fuuuuck.” 

The moan dragged out his throat as you leaned your head down between his thighs and began nuzzling his dick print. Hard, hot, and heavy against your soft cheek. Sukuna nearly came right there from the slutty act. “You like that, huh? Is it big enough for you, kitty?” You nodded, nuzzling his cock. “Go on; take it out if you want it. Show me what that mouth can do.” 

You did so, expertly untying his sweats in a way that impressed him. You purred as you slid his pants and underwear down to his ankles, exposing him to your lust-blown eyes. Your eyes widened at the sight of him–big, hard, throbbing, and veiny. A pink happy trail moved down to smooth shaven skin and his cock head was pierced at the tip with a silver ring that had you drooling. He sat before you, eyes hooded with lust and thighs spread for you. 

“So pretty,” you murmured before your hand was wrapping around it. Sukuna softly groaned as you began to stroke him, up and down, your eyes fixed on him. Then you wrapped your luscious mouth around him, being careful to not nick him with your fangs. He let out a loud, long moan at the feeling of your wet tongue and soft lips sucking him, licking him, wrapping him up like a velvety hug. “Shit,” he exhaled. “Fuck, you ain’t too bad at this…for a feline.” 

Cat-like eyes flicked up at him, sharp and shiny. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him a bit harder, making him grunt. He had to grab the couch cushions to avoid cumming right there down your throat. “Fuck!” he moaned, tilting his head back in pleasure. Then it was right back to you giving him the deepest, most excellent throat he had in his life. 

You were truly a pro at sucking dick, using your tiny hands to pump, pump at his base while you sucked him off at the tip, alternating between deep thrusts of your throat down his shaft and licks of your tongue against his cockhead ring. You even tugged a bit on that, making him mutter, “Little fuckin’ brat” through a grunt as pleasure zipped through him. 

“My bad. Is that a slur to your species?” he chuckled, kind of enjoying your little bite. Your eyes locked on him as you fucked his cock down your throat, your cute little ears twitching in pleasure as you did. You were enjoying this too. He could tell by your eager sucking and the spit that drooled from your mouth, coating his balls. “Goddamn,” he grunted, tilting his head back against the couch. “Is this what you do for your Master?” 

“Just about,” Toji replied. “But she uses more tongue than that.” 

Like a record scratching, reality smacked Sukuna hard in the face at the sound of his roommate’s deep, gruff voice. His head shot up, seeing Toji standing at the door in his work uniform, arms crossed over his buff chest. “Fuck!” Sukuna yelped. Mostly out of alarm but also because you didn’t stop sucking. Though your tail shot up happily to see Toji, you kept gagging on Sukuna’s cock, sweetly moaning around it. The vibrations traveled down to his balls, making his toes curl in his Nike slides. 

Why the fuck weren’t you stopping?! 

Toji smirked at the sight as if he knew this would happen. “Well, well…looks like you’ve gotten real close to my girl, huh, Kuna?” He paused, grinning. “I knew she’d getcha. She’s impossible to resist.” He stared down at you as you continued to work Sukuna’s cock with your throat like a pro, each velvety stroke down your tight channel making the tattooer groan. 

“I…w-we…she…” Sukuna didn’t know what to say or what to do. Should he push you away? God, he didn’t want to! Your mouth was just too good!

But to his surprise, Toji laughed as he stomped over to the couch in his boots wet from the rain. “Dude, it’s fine! I should’ve told you that my kitty can be a real slut too. Y’know, she’s always wanted to have you join us in bed, right, mamas?” He gently petted your head, making you purr against Sukuna’s cock. 

Toji smirked, a playful glint in his eye. “Go on, show him what you can do with that mouth. Doesn’t he deserve to be thanked for keepin’ you company?” He winked at Sukuna, making the tattooer sneer at him. “You just wanna watch, creep.” 

The mechanic didn’t even act like Sukuna was wrong, plopping down next to him on the couch. “Well, of course, I do. Gotta make sure you treat her throat right. After all, she’s mine.” He then took your collar between his thick fingers and turned it around to show your tag: Property of Toji Fushiguro (with his phone number included). 

Sukuna imagined his own name next to his roommate’s on your tag, representing their ownership over you, and the idea of you being his nearly made him bust. Toji watched with lust as you sucked off his roommate with the expertise of a professional cocksucker, your cheeks hollowed and eyes rolling back like you loved this shit. Loved Sukuna’s taste and how fat his dick was. 

“Doin’ so good f’me him, babydoll,” Toji murmured, stroking your ears. “I’m almost jealous.” Sukuna looked over and sure enough, he saw that Toji was pitching his own tent. You noticed it too and wetly popped off of Sukuna’s dick to grab at Toji’s bulge in his mechanic pants. “Master,” you panted. “Need you.” 

You began to rub him through his pants, making your Master tug at his bottom lip at your neediness. “Ohhh, so you want your Master’s cock too? You want some more milk, greedy girl?” He gave your tail a sharp tug, making you whimper at the pressure. 

Before Sukuna knew it, Toji’s pants were unzipped and his cock was springing free. It was just as hard and thick as Sukuna’s though he had a nest of black curls and a happy trail you seemed to drool over. “Well, cutie?” he crooned, smirking at you. “You gonna show my roomie how much of a big girl you are? How good of a kitty you can be?” 

Eager for more praise, you let Toji spit in your hands and wrapped your fingers around both of their thick shafts, causing both of them to wantonly groan at the lewdness of it. As you stroked the both of them, up and down from slow to quick, you alternate between sucking on them in a way that you made look easy. 

They each gave you luscious, deep moans and grunts as you slobbered all over their cocks, saliva dripping from your lips and down your chin. You licked, sucked and slurped them up, moaning obscenely as you did, eager for more of them. The more you sucked and blew their dicks, the wetter you got, causing you to rub your thighs together to ease the ache of your sobbing wet pussy.

“God!” Sukuna grunted, damn near popping a vein in his hands from how hard he was gripping the couch. “Fuck, how is she this goddamn good at suckin’ dick?” 

Toji cackled, finding humor in seeing his roomie so whipped for his kitty cat’s throat. “Taught her everything she knows.” He groaned as he pried his cock out of your mouth, slapping it against your tongue and cheeks. “Open up f’me, kitty” he demanded. You did so, prying your lips open to allow him to lean in and spit in your mouth. 

Sukuna watched in awe and utter horniness, wishing for the chance to do that to you. “Now put it back on my cock,” Toji orders, grinning when you stooped down to spit his saliva onto his slick, hard dick and balls. Then it was right back to you sucking his cock, making him groan as he took your hair in his hand, keeping a secure yet gentle hold on you. “That’s right, mama,” he praised as you pumped Sukuna’s cock in tandem with your sucking. “Mmm, take us both. Such a good kitty.” 

‘Yeah. She’s so good.’ The thought came out of nowhere for Sukuna, conjured by the way you completely made it your mission to please the both of them. When you wrapped your lips around him again and got to sucking, Sukuna felt his balls tugging at your suction, your throat tight enough for a nice, big, fat, creamy load. “Ngh! S-She’s gonna make me fuckin’ bust if she keeps s-suckin’ me like that.” 

Toji grinned toothily at him, encouraging him to ruin and use you. “Then do it. Pet her tail for her. That’ll make her suck you down even deeper.” Sukuna did so, petting your soft tail with his thick fingers, earning your slutty gagging, your throat flexing around him. As the tattooer fucked your throat, Toji licked his fingers and began playing with your pussy, petting your ass as he did. “You’ve got me s’hard for you, kitty. You don’t mind if I fuck that pretty hole, d’you?” 

Plap-plap-plap went his cock smacking against your asscheeks. You pulled off Sukuna's cock, mouth dripping in spit and pre-cum, to plead with your Master. “P-Please, Master. Fuck me.” Toji tapped his cock against your pussy this time, groaning at the soft, wet plap-plaps. “Baby’s so desperate to be fucked, she’ll do anything for it!” he chuckled and leaned down to kiss your ass. “Of course, sweetness. Anythin’ for my good girl. Just don’t stop suckin’ that cock, okay?” 

He then hummed out an “mmmm” of pleasure as he dived into your pussy, pushing his mouth deep against your sticky, puffy lips and clit. Your mouth clamped tight around Sukuna as you moaned, somehow taking Sukuna deeper. The tattooer watched as his roomie swallowed your pussy straight off the bone, shoving his tongue deeeeep inside of you. 

“Hey.” Sukuna tugged on your furry ear, making you look at him. “Don’t slack. Aren’t ya gonna be a good kitty and keep suckin’ me down?” He groaned as he pulled out of your mouth, strings of spit following in his wake.  

Instinctively, you pried open your lips and stuck your tongue out, allowing him to wetly tap the head against your tongue. “Yes, Daddy,” you obediently replied. Sukuna nearly nutted right there. Something possessed him to lean down to give you a rough, mindblowing kiss, making you moan against his tongue. “Don’t get distracted now. That’ll piss me off.” 

Referring to Toji’s sloppy pussy-eating, Sukuna continued to fuck your mouth, even while Toji’s fat tongue licked across your slit, his nose nudging your clit. They shared moans between one another–Sukuna’s deep, smokey moans drifted into the air while Toji groaned into your pussy, using his hands to pry your asscheeks apart, your back in a perfect arch. 

Soon, you couldn’t take much more of the torture and pulled off of Sukuna’s cock to plead with the men. “Please!” you whined. “Please fuck me now, Daddies!” Sukuna shared a look with Toji, both surprised at your plea. “At the same time?” Toji chuckled, thoughtfully stroking your ass. “Oooh, what a naughty little kitty.” 

SMACK!

You keened as he smacked your asscheek hard and rough, almost leaving a handprint. “You’d better take me nice and deep then, girl,” he growled as he snatched off his shirt, leaving him totally naked. Sukuna did the same, loving how your eyes drank in his handsome face, toned body, and big cock that eclipsed everything else on the couch because of how big he was. “I’ll take her even deeper than that. Might even make her cum harder than she’s ever had in her life.” 

He gave Toji a shit-eating smirk, wanting nothing more than to snatch you away for the love of the game. Plus, you were quite the cutie growing under his skin.

Toji couldn’t have that, so after some more light tapping and teasing, he lined himself up and finally slid home inside of you. Your thighs clenched and your eyes widened as your pussy stretched around his thickness, feeling every inch fill you up to the brim. Sukuna saw it, his cock pulsing in jealousy as Toji stretched you out wide.

Your Master gripped your hips, keeping you steady between himself and Sukuna. “Ahhh, fuck,” he exhaled. “So fuckin’ tight.” He began to thrust his hips against your ass, drawing his cock in and out of your pussy at a slow yet deep pace that made your eyes roll and your tail curl as you gagged on Sukuna’s cock.

Toji chuckled at your reaction to his fat dick, biting his lip as his eyes grazed over your body squeezed between him and Sukuna. Sukuna’s cock had slipped out of your mouth so you could take a breath, but all you did was moan and wail in ecstasy. God, how he wanted to make you sound like that! He wanted to fuck you for so long, wishing for the change to make you moan and scream on his dick the way Toji did. 

He watched the lewd sight before him as Toji fucked you deep and hard. Your walls flexed around him yet kept him inside; the way your pussy lips slightly stuck to his shaft when he pulled out as if to keep him there. His dick came back shining in your gush, the vein trailing from his heavy, cum-filled balls to his pulsing head. 

As he began to fuck you faster, your titties bounced, finally popping out of your dress to freely bounce and sway in Sukuna’s face. You bounced back onto Toji’s cock, fucking him back, unashamed and oh-so slutty. 

“Shit,” Sukuna exhaled, transfixed at the way your pretty pussy clenched around Toji’s cock. The way your body moved. The way you sounded. “Switch with me.” He said it in a rush of air like he couldn’t get it out fast enough, desperate and greedy for your cunt. Toji tossed his head back and laughed, still bumping his hips against yours, his thighs slamming against your ass. “Told ya she’d get you!” 

He finally slid out of you with a groan, his cock slick with your honey, and gripped your chin to turn you to face him. “Someone’s obsessed with ya, darlin’,” he huskily whispered. He gently stroked your chin, forcing your head still. “You still doin’ okay? Try and gimme your words.” 

Sukuna could see in your dazed eyes that your mind had turned to mush. Your holes leaked with pre-cum and you seemed fucked out of your head, but you still managed to reply. “Y-Yes, Daddy,” you stammer, giving him a wobbly smile. 

Sukuna growled with need while Toji cooed at you as if you are a baby. His baby. “So fuckin’ cute,” he groaned, stroking a thumb along your bottom lip. “We’re gonna make you cum your pretty brains out, babe. I promise.” He paused to press a kiss to your lips, sweet and light. 

Finally, the men switched and lifted you up on the couch so you’d be more comfortable getting your brains fucked out. While you faced Toji, sucking him off now, Sukuna held your hips and faced your pretty, puffy, wet pussy, everything he ever wanted right in front of him. He tapped his dick against your clit for a moment before finally, fucking finally, sliding in. He grunted as you squeezed those satiny walls around him, tighter than a vice, sucking him in straight off the rip. 

You felt perfect. And he wanted to make it last…really he did! But he couldn’t. Feeling your wetness dripping down his balls and seeing your soft, plushy ass and fluffy tail pressed flush against his abs took him over. 

Then Sukuna was fucking your pussy off of its hinges while Toji fucked your throat, their groans and grunts filling the sex-scented air. Toji used your sloppy, tight throat to please himself while Sukuna pushed your pussy, his eyes becoming glazed with lust at the way your soft lips stretched around his shaft. 

Toji chucked through his grunts and huffs of pleasure as they pushed and pulled on you, rocking you between their big, muscular bodies. “Go ‘head, man. Smack her ass.” Sukuna didn’t have to be told twice. 

SMACK! 

His hand came down hard on your ass, the sound of his palm hitting your skin echoing throughout the room. The way you moaned in pleasure at the sharp sting broke him and he fucked you harder, faster, your ass smacking against his abs. He was coming close to his end and he wanted you there too. 

So he licked his fingers and proceeded to rub at your clit in semi-circles, loving how wet you were. So responsive to his every move. “You wanna cum for us, kitty?” he grunted. “Say it, slut. Say you wanna cum all around my cock.” 

You were losing your shit, your grip on reality slipping. The two studs fucking you into euphoria weren’t off that great either. They couldn’t stand how cute you were getting split between them, and shared the way you craved. Toji slipped out of your mouth, busying himself by jacking off in your face so you could speak. “Please, Daddies!” you whimpered. “Make me cum! Need to cum!” 

Your soft, gorgeous begging pulled both over the edge. They couldn’t resist you.

The harder Sukuna fucked you, the more he could feel his orgasm coming, the build-up growing more intense with each passing second. He stroked your tail as Toji petted your ears, stimulating you so bad that you began to tremble. “Fuckin’ give it to me,” he whispered in your ear. “Cum for me, kitty! Cum all over that dick!” 

His harsh tone and sexy demand caused your body to tremble and shake like an autumn leaf as finally, you came. You moaned aloud, sweet and loud, as you exploded all over Sukuna’s fat dick. Your walls tugged on him like you wanted to lock him inside you, your pussy quivering around his cock bullying your insides, stuffing you full even as your walls grew sensitive. You drenched him, your slick dripping down his balls and coating your inner thighs. 

You whimpered and moaned into the sex-scented air as you creamed all over Sukuna’s cock, soaring and flying among the stars. Sukuna was right beside you, right there on the edge of bliss as he fucked you faster, harder, your ass smacking louder agaisnt his pelvis. 

Once you came down, Toji went right back to fucking your mouth, pushing when Sukuna pulled and vice versa. You bounced between them as they fucked your holes, knocking all common sense, thoughts, and logic out of your pretty little brain until you were nothing but their mindless, slutty kitty. 

“Fuck, I’mma cum for you, pretty!” Toji groaned, plowing your throat as if it was a fleshlight for his enjoyment. 

“Fuck!” Sukuna growled, gripping your ass so hard that he nearly left bruises. “Goddammit, m’gonna cum! Gonna give you my fuckin’ load, kitty cat!” He tugged on your collar, making you gasp around Toji’s dick. “Take it, baby. Take all that fuckin’ milk!” 

You had no choice but to do so. They each came with luscious, guttural, throaty moans and grunts that made your pussy throb around Sukuna, their cum filling up your cunt and their mouth in a rush of spunk that has your back arching and your tail twitching. Toji moaned out your name like a prayer and strings of pet names as his cum coated your throat. He then pulled out to finish the rest on your face and chest, covering your lips, cheeks, and tits in his sticky spunk. 

Sukuna wore like a sailor as he filled you up to the brim with his cum, coating your insides in him until he was dripping down your asscrack. Tingly sensations crackled in his blood and veins, addictive like a drug. Like your perfect pussy. His mind grew blank as his eyes rolled back, exhaustion kicking in as the sex high faded, leaving him exhausted. 

With a huff, he stared down at his dick plugged inside of your wet hole, cum dripping down your thighs and staining the couch. So much for keeping you off of it. As their highs finally faded, the men gently pulled out of you and, after Toji lovingly wiped his cum off of your face, laid you down between them, their big, muscular forms like two walls squeezing you in. 

But you never looked so happy. So content. You snuggled into Toji’s side as he threw a duvet over your naked body, snuggling up close to wrap his arms around you. He began to stroke your head and scratch your ears, smiling as you softly purred. “Now that’s a good kitty. Ain’t she, Sukuna?” 

Sukuna stared down at you curled up between them, your tail swishing peacefully between your legs. He fell completely in love with you right there, seeing exactly what Toji saw the first day he got you. “Eh,” he grunted, his cheeks growing hot. You’re not so bad…but I still don’t want her scratchin’ up the couch though. Maybe then I can think about us doin’ this again.” 

Toji chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Did you hear that, pretty kitty? How’s about bein’ a good girl for Sukuna too, hm?” 

You peaked over at Sukuna and he expected you to give him a hiss. But instead, you rolled over and snuggled into his broad, tatted chest, scent marking him and purring even louder as his body heat embraced you. Sukuna, shocked, stiffly wrapped his arms around you while Toji chuckled at the sweet moment. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

THE END.

He would’ve found that amusing. He would’ve teased you about acing so cool and collected, right up until you were staring down the barrel of a gun. There hadn’t been a trip of your heartbeat, or stumble in your breath. Lives depended on you being able to do this.

And they depended on you being able to keep your head down.

You’d gotten good at it. Before him, it had been your job to keep calm and collected. Doctors couldn’t be panicking and crying over everything, or nothing would ever get done.

“What about when something’s real fucking gross and sticky?” He used to ask you. “You allowed to cry then?”

You’d smiled at the dishes in your hands. “Would you cry over something gross and sticky?”

“No, because I’m not a-“

“Fucking pussy.”

You’d dropped your voice to mock his, your smile becoming stupid and ditzy as the chair had scraped on the floor behind you. Riling him up was too easy. And if he didn’t want you to keep poking all his old, shiny buttons, he shouldn’t make it so damn fun.

“You got a mouth on you, doll.” Ben had muttered in your ear, arms wrapping around your stomach.

“Hm.” You hadn’t stopped washing the dishes. He’d rip them away from you soon, you might as well focus on what you can.

“Hm? All you got to say is hm?”

“I think you like my mouth.” You’d swayed on your feet, shrugging lazily.

Ben’s arms had tightened around you. “I like somethin’ about your mouth.”

“You like all of it. You like me so much, you chose weed over me, you think I’m better than weed-“

Your dishes had clattered into the sink. Ben spun you around, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them to the counter as he slammed his mouth of yours. You’d made a happy sound, craning your neck to try and chase more, and he’d chuckled. Soft, light kisses had been trailed down your jaw and over your throat, landing on a spot that seemed to be permanently dark since you’d met him.

He’d bitten at the skin, then sucked, letting his tongue flick slightly. Before him, you hadn’t even known you were into that. Now you can’t even graze the spot without your body getting fuzzy and confused. Like it knows he’s supposed to be there.

But he’s not.

“You’re lucky I like you.” Ben had muttered. “And you’re not a genius to figure that out, I think I’ve made it real fucking clear.”

You’d beamed at the air, wrapping an arm around his neck when he released one wrist. His massive hand had grabbed your waist, slipping fingers under the hem of the shirt. You’d shivered, and leaned into his mouth.

He’d been solid. Safe. And you’d been so foolishly sure that he was going to be there forever.

“You have.” You’d breathed.

And you’d really believed it.

But then he’d just… Left.

You’d woken up the next morning, and he’d been off with William Butcher to deal with Homelander. He’d failed, on both the being with William Butcher front and the deal with Homelander front. They’d said he had died. You’d sunken into something like a ghost, wandering through the world without touching anything, passing through days like they were all just a veil to something else.

There were regrets. Not demanding that he stay. Not kicking him out the first time he ended up on your doorstep. Talking to him that first night at the corner store at all, because at least then your heart would’ve still been beating instead of this hollow, gray husk.

But you also wouldn’t have traded him for the world. The time had been fleeting. Only a few splatters of paint on what had previously been a clean, respectable life.

You’d found out you liked being dirty. You liked all the color it came with, and you’d liked how Ben had held your hand through the whole thing. You don’t know why he had. You don’t even know why he’d liked you, why he’d bothered coming back over and over, why he’d decided that you—of all the many, more interesting, more carefree people in the world—were the one he wanted to share himself with.

“You shouldn’t eat those.” You’d told the strange, handsome man at one in the morning.

He’d looked at you like you were crazy. You’d blinked innocently back—a faint bell in your head, ringing that he looked familiar, and you should’ve listened to it—and he’d raised his brows.

“You talking to me?”

“Um,” you’d looked around the aisle. “Yeah? Who else would I be talking to.”

The man had grunted. His eyes hadn’t left yours for a second, and he’d been staring like he was trying to peel you apart. You’d started to feel all dizzy under the attention—he was very pretty, and pretty people shouldn’t stare like that—and shifted on your feet.

“There are studies.” You’d said lamely. “About those drinks. They give you cancer.”

“Cancer?” The man had snorted. “Doll, I’m not worried about fucking cancer-“

“You should be. It’s linked to pancreatic cancer, which is very- Fast spreading.” All your usual, well performed confidence had been wavering. Why had he been staring at you like that. “Because of the pancreases function in, um, your body, it’s basically- It’s fast spreading-“

“You said that already.”

You’d swallowed. His voice was very deep. “Oh.”

His eyes had shined with something that, in the moment, you hadn’t understood.

Now you know it to his form of affection. When he’d look at you and decided that you were real fucking cute, like a twitchy bunny—his words—and wanted to have more.

In the store, you’d hadn’t  been sure if he was going to murder you or make an indecent proposal.

He hated that movie. You’d made him watch it, a few weeks later, and he’d been furious she chose the penniless sad sack. You’d told him you’d chose him, if he was the penniless sad sack. He’d grumbled that he hoped you’d have better survival instincts than that, but you’d been able to read him by now. He’d liked that a lot, and you had the hickies after to prove it.

And he’d laughed.

That night, he’d just laughed.

“You some kind of a fucking doctor?”

“Yeah.” You’d said, nervous and small. “I- I am.”

The man had blinked. Looked over you like he was seeing you for the first time, and leaned back as if the sight punched him in the face. You’d still been wearing your scrubs. Later you’d tease him about not paying attention.

He’d say he’d just been that enraptured by your beauty. You’d flush, and tell him he was using that word wrong. He’d say he didn’t fucking care, and kiss you until you were stupid and giggling.

“What’s good?” He’d jerked his head at the drinks, and you pointed to a different can a shelf over.

He’d eyed you suspiciously, but grabbed it and stomped away. You’d thought he’d be gone when you paid for your own food and walked to the parking lot. Instead he’d been waiting at the counter, watching you with that same, wearily curious expression.

“Are you going to stalk me to my car?” You’d asked causally, careful not to look him in the eyes.

He’d grunted. “I’m escorting you. Stalking makes me sound like I’m some fucking creep-“

“You’re a stranger who’s going to follow me to my car. I should be calling 911.”

“911 couldn’t stop me, sweetheart.”

You’d paused, frowning at him. He’d rolled his eyes, looking around the store like he expected a camera crew to pop out and tell him the whole thing was a prank.

“Don’t call 911.” He’d muttered.

“Why shouldn’t I.”

“Cause I’m not going to fucking hurt you, that’s why-“

“And why should I trust that?”

He’d blinked. That thought hadn’t occurred to him at all.

“I swear I won’t.”

“Promises mean nothing.”

“My promises mean something-“

“Not to me, they don’t.”

He’d stared at you. You’d tipped up your chin, and held his gaze. You were not going to be murdered in a parking lot tonight. You’d ordered new pants last night, and you wanted to be alive to see them.

The man had caved before you. He hadn’t been happy about it, but you’d come to learn that he was never openly happy about anything. There was his genuine annoyance, and his fluffy annoyance. Where he didn’t mean a single groan or eye roll or muttered curse.

He saved that second one for you. And he hated that you called it fluffy annoyance, because he wasn’t ‘fucking fluffy’. But you’d tell him that you liked him fluffy, as long as it was just yours. And he’d said he was just yours, and he’d promised, and you’d learned how to believe him.

“My name is Ben.” He’d told you, reaching into his jacket. “And if I try to hurt you, use this.”

And he’d handed you a fucking gun. The poor cashier that had been listening to all of this shrieked and ducked behind the counter. You’d gaped at Ben, then smacked his arm.

“What the fuck-“

“You can’t just pull out a gun, are you crazy!”

“Don’t call me crazy, I’m trying to make you feel- Fucking better or whatever-“

“How is a gun going to make me feel better, I’m a doctor-“

“So you can stitch me up after you shoot me, all the fucking better-“

“I am not going to shoot you-“

“But you could, that’s what the damn gun is for-“

“I don’t want your gun, I just-“ You’d cut yourself, glancing at the shaking cashier. It had just been some high school kid. He didn’t deserve to deal with this.

And even then, some part of you had known. Ben was a lot of things. Most of them weren’t half as pretty as his face.

But he wasn’t a liar. He’d realty thought the gun would make you feel better.

Later, you’d learn that it had really only been meant to make you feel better. Literally. That if he had been intending to hurt you—which he hadn’t, as he reminded you all the time—the gun wouldn’t have done fucking shit to stop that. But he’d thought it would help you be less nervous. And as much as you’d punch his dumb, big chest after he told you, you had to admit that the plan had—in a very roundabout way—worked.

“Come on.” You’d turned on your heels and walked out of the store.

Ben had followed.

And for a strange, priceless month, you’d known that if you looked over your shoulder, he’d be there. It had become a comfort. It had become the best thing in your life.

Then it had been gone.

Ben had left you, and the world had only gotten darker from there.

So you have all these regrets, that you pile on top of your secret. And they tell you to be more careful. You haven’t been on a date since Ben, although you never even technically dated. You’d never even fucked. It had been a lot of kisses and sharing a bed and wandering hands. Ben had asked. He’d asked all the time, and always sighed dramatically when you said after. After he was done with Butcher. After he dealt with Homelander, he could have whatever he wanted from you.

It was already his for the taking, he just needed to reach it.

And now all of you sat on a high, dusted shelf, waiting for hands that would never reach it.

Now, you’re careful.

After that girl down the hall, there had been the couple on the side of the highway. They’d been trying to hide from Black Noir, but one of them had an infected cut and was getting a fever. You’d treated it, then been on your way.

Then there had been the little boy who’s parents had been taken, and the shrapnel in his foot. The older woman who’s son had been shot, and the people who’d been hit in collateral and didn’t have insurance. And you kept helping and helping and helping, but always with your head down. If you were smarter, you wouldn’t help at all. It draws attention. Attention begs for investigation. Investigation undercovers secrets, and Ben had always been very clear.

No one could know who you are. What you were to him.

Why you have that gun in your closet, unloaded and kept clean like an heirloom. It wouldn’t be hard to trace it to Ben. It wouldn’t take a long time—especially for Sage, who you’ve only seen once from afar but sent a chilling fear through your bones all the same—to realize why you had one of Soldier Boy’s guns. To look at cameras and place timelines and know. What you’d meant to him.

Part of you wants her to. Maybe she’d be able to tell you, after.

Because he hadn’t stayed for you. And you hadn’t been foolish enough to ask him to.

But still.

You’d hoped he would.

“We should go somewhere.” He’d muttered one night, lying flat on his back.

And you’d looked at him in the dark, and found him staring back. He’d always been staring back.

“When this is done.” Ben had reached over, grabbing your wrist. He did that when he needed your attention. You don’t think he ever knew that he had all of you, whether he wanted to grab it or not.

“Done?” You’d breathed. Ben had nodded.

“The whole thing. All of it. I’m not going back into acting and shit, everything is bad now anyway-“

“You liked Paddington 2-“

“Shhh.” Ben had covered your mouth, eyes shining. “Can’t fucking prove that, can you, doll.”

You’d shrugged smiling against his hand. Ben had leaned down until your brows were pressed together, and let out a slow, heavy breath.

“We’ll go.” He’d said it like a secret. Like even in the empty room, you were still the only person he wanted anything to do with in the world. “Anywhere in the world that you want. No more of this fucking bullshit. Just you and me.”

And you’d giggled. You’d pulled his hand away with a laugh, and kissed his adorable little frown.

“You like me so much.” You’d whispered.

Ben had only stared. His heavy sigh had fanned over your cheeks, and he’d kissed the space between your eyes.

“You got no idea.”

And you wish you had.

You wish you’d asked him to stay, but you keep that buried with the rest of it. You don’t want to think about how if you had, he might’ve.

If you had, he might still be next to you today.

You broke a cup.   

The TV in the breakroom is always on, but you usually just spare it passing glances. Since Homelander’s takeover, it mostly just plays Firecracker’s stupid propaganda show, or reruns of old Vought movies with Starlight’s scenes cut out. It makes for a clonky, confusing storyline. Sometimes you watch it when you’re bored, if only to feel a ghost of a smile.

Other days, they play Ben’s old movies. And you can’t stand to listen to those. Just his voice makes you shiver and look around the room, as if he might materialize and grin at you the same way he always did. Like in his eyes, everything just narrowed down to you. The walls existed to hold you and everything around the room was a noise or blockade that needed to be moved, so he could be at your side.

I’d swim in the ocean for you, doll. He’d told you one. You’d laughed. He’d meant it to be romantic, but he’d just sounded annoyed about it, and it had been so stupidly sweet you’d fallen a little more in love with him. But love with Ben had always come like that. In slow drips that built up and up and up, until there was a bucket to be doused over your head and you had to understand.

That he had been everything.

You’d known too late. The downpour had come with the news of his death, when every light had become too bright, and all the color in the world had been washed out to nothing. You hadn’t been able to tell your co-workers why you’d stumbled and started to whine like a lost dog. Why you’d needed the week off, because your legs had turned to lead and it was too hard to get out of bed.

And you’re not going to be able to explain this, either.

Why you hear his voice, look up at the TV on an instinct you’re never going to be able to squash, and drop your cup.

It shatters all over the floor. The two nurses at the table shoot up to help, one saying something about walking carefully over the broken glass, but you don’t hear it.

There’s only the ringing in your ears, and—rising above it all—Ben’s voice.

This isn’t old footage. You’d know. You’ve watched every video and listened to every archived radio interview, just trying to hold onto what you could.

No.

This is new.

Which means Ben- He’s alive.

He’s on the TV. Standing next to Homelander with a bored, unimpressed expression, hands on his belt, looking the exact same as he day he left you.

He left you.

It wasn’t death that took him. He’s right there, instead of at your side. His gaze is just as intense as before, and he holds himself with the same confident, lazy posture, and his mouth stays in the pretty, downturned line that you always loved grabbing up and pulling into a smile.

He’d grab your wrists, but not move you away. He’d ask what you thought you were doing, but he already knew. You’d beam and kiss his nose. He’d pretend to bite yours, and you’d dissolve into giggles and wrap around him like a koala. He’d tell you he didn’t know what he was going to do with you. You’d call him a liar. Say he knew perfectly well what he wanted to do with you. And he’d grumble, because you teased him so much without ever actually throwing him a bone.

You always reminded him there were plenty of other women out there who would happily want his bone. You’d wink, and he’d give you that adoring, exasperated look.

He’d say he didn’t care about any other bones but yours. You’d say that you were both losing the metaphor.

Ben would say he didn’t fucking care, and flip you under him. You’d lose track of time. Of the movie you were supposed to be watching. Of the world.

And then he left.

Just left.

Wasn’t taken. Ben just… Left. After telling you so many sweet thing, after making so many promises, he just left. And now he’s back.

But not back with you.

Your hand is bleeding. You tried to pick up some of the glass, and it sliced along your palm. You barely even feel it. A part of you was already bleeding all over the floor anyways.

He didn’t come back.

Ben couldn’t fucking find you.

He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t about to go up to any of these weird little pussies and ask them where you were. He didn’t need them to know you existed. No one needed to know you existed but Ben himself.

Before he chased after Butcher, he’d gone to your apartment. And he’d been a fucking idiot with this picture in his head, where he’d knock on the door and you’d been thrilled to see him. He’d sweep you off your feet, and you’d be crying with joy, then he’d fuck you and carry you far, far away from here. 

But he’d knocked. And knocked. And shouted your name, but no one had answered the fucking door.

He’d broken in. You’d be mad about that, if you were with him. That was the kind of thing that got him a stern finger and snapped Benjamin like he was a damn dog being scolded for pissing on the couch.

Don’t kill that guy who’s harassing me, Benjamin. Don’t pick up that car in my parking spot and throw it across the street. Don’t punch the dickheaded dumbass who cat called me, it’s fine, it happens all the time.  

It was real fucking cute when you got all mouthy and angry with him, as if there was a damn thing you could do about it.

Although he had always listened.

But it was real hard to tell you no. Or upset you. Or do anything that made your voice all thick and eyes all watery and sad. Ben had a lot of fantasies about your wobbling lips and sad little kicked kitten eyes—the ones you gave him when he was gone for longer than he said he’d be, or had very fucking reasonably verbally threated the men who’d been giving you a hard time—but none of them involved you being sad. They were all about how pretty you looked like that, and how nice it would be to see that gorgeous sight without feeling so fucking bad about it.

His heart squeezed uncomfortably, when he made you upset or nervous. It was incredibly fucking annoying. When it had first happened, he’d decided he needed to keep you close. To figure out what the fuck you were—what supe or Russian spy had been sent after him—so he could neutralize you.

Then you’d just been a person. And Ben had to deal with the fact that his dumbass fucking heart just did that for you. It didn’t do that for anyone else, and he’d been alive a damn long time.

He’d been angry about it, for about ten seconds.

And then you’d smiled at him.

He’d decided that as long as you were smiling, there wasn’t much to be angry about in the whole fucking world.

There were things to be angry about now, though.

You weren’t smiling. You weren’t there. Ben had kicked down your apartment door and found it empty. Bare.

Hollow.

Something inside of him had split and become so fucking hollow. He’d ripped up the floorboards and checked in the vents. He’d punched a hole in the wall and roared your name, but you’d been gone.

Someone had to have taken you. You’d always been to smart and kind, you might’ve said something truthful and gotten dragged off to one of Homelander’s stupid camps for it.

If you were dead, Ben was going to break some shit. A lot of shit. Namely, Homelander’s fucking skull between his hands.

And if you were alive, he’d still probably do that anyways. For hiding you and hurting you. He’d just be faster about it. You didn’t need to see that shit, and the moment Ben had you again he wasn’t going to let go for a damn second.

He just had to find you first.

Ben had been good at investigating, in his day. But shit had also been simpler. There hadn’t been Sage hanging over his shoulder and watching him like a very annoying hawk. That Firecracker girl hadn’t been trying to hit on him—a shame, because his dick was sore, but his hands hurt even trying to touch someone else so he shut it down fast—and Homelander hadn’t been whining like a little fucking bitch baby all the damn time.

All these damn computers with their fucking passcodes and weird words didn’t help either. Ben spent an hour trying to break into one, then physically broke it, and all the others in the lab.

The Fish-Fucker walked in on him. Ben narrowed his eyes, and the pussy paled and raised shaking hands.

“Hey, dude, I didn’t see anything-“

“You know how to open a computer?” Ben barked, and Fish-Fucker blinked.

“Uhh… You mean log into one?” Fish-Fucker laughed, high and weak. “Yeah, bro, I know how to log in to a computer, who doesn’t know how to-“

He cut himself off as Ben’s jaw ticked, going even paler. He even looked like a fish.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean- You shouldn’t kill me! I can log in, I can find whatever you want-“

“Shut up.” Ben raised a hand, and the Fish-Fucker fell silent. “You know how to keep your mouth shut?”

“Yes. Yes- Sir-“

“Open it.” Ben pointed at the computer, and Fish Fucker scrambled forward.

He grabbed the back of the pussies neck before he could sit down, dropping his voice to a hiss.

“You tell anyone about this, I stuff you up like a fuck doll and turn you into fucking chow, you got that?”

Fish-Fucker nodded, throat bobbing and body twitching all pathetically. Ben let him go, and stood back up.

“Good. I got a name for you to look up.”

Fish-Fucker laughed nervously, nodding as he hit his fingers all over the keyboard. “More revenge, sir?”

“No.” Ben muttered, clasping his hand in front of him.

Revenge isn’t going to help, Ben. You’d told him that over and over again, but you’d also run your fingers through his hair and told him you wouldn’t stop him. He’d asked you if you’d still be there when he came back with blood on his hands. He’d meant it to be teasing, a thing he used to say to old lovers to test how much they could handle. They’d always giggled and rolled their eyes like they thought it was a damn joke. You’d tipped your head at him, eyes sharp and bright, and sighed.

You’d told him he’d need to take a shower, first.

And Ben had known. 

“What is it, then?” Fish-Fucker asked, and Ben didn’t bother to answer.

That wasn’t for anyone to know but him. You weren’t for anyone to know. Not these horrible, weak people who would hurt you and use you against him.

Your face popped up on the screen. The smiling photo that you’d used on social media—you’d taught him what that was, and he didn’t fucking care for it but he sure as hell liked seeing pictures of you—and a link to your profile at that hospital you’d worked at.

You still worked there. You weren’t gone.

Ben’s heart did a little flutter. He ignored it. That kind of gooey shit could be saved for after he found you.

“Who is she?” Fish-Fucker peered at your photo. Ben should pop his eyeballs out of his damn skull. “A Starlighter?”

Ben grunted. “Don’t ask stupid fucking questions.”

Fish-Fucker said something else. Ben didn’t listen to it.

He had to go find you.

You get home, and you feel like nothing.

It’s been two weeks, since you found out Ben was alive. Two long weeks where time dragged you through the mud and you had to learn how to keep your heart beating.

You pulled out the gun every night. You’d never shoot it—you didn’t even have ammunition—but you’d needed to hold it. To cling to proof that it hadn’t all been a dream. He’d been here. He’d given you part of him to keep.

Then he’d decided you weren’t worth the rest.

You’d thought, like a naïve, lovesick school girl, that you were going to be worth the rest.

You kick off your shoes, and go straight for the gun again. You lie on the floor, because it’s cold and that forces you to stay awake. You haven’t been sleeping properly, and when you pass out from exhaustion you don’t wake up well rested. It all hurts. It always hurts, and you don’t think it’s ever going to not hurt again.

You close your eyes, hugging the gun tight to your chest. Tears are burning behind your eyes again. You’d been hoping you’d run out, but you feel the hot shame of one sliding down your cheek. A broken sob rattles through your chest, and you’ve given up on fighting it.

This is just always going to hurt.

“I didn’t give you that so you could shoot yourself, doll.”

You scream. Your hands fly before you can think, scrambling to grab the gun. Some scratch in the back of your head knows that a bad idea, and drum in your chest demands that it’s bad idea, but you’re tired and afraid. You thought you were alone, and you’re not, so you aim the gun straight at the man standing in your door.

Ben grabs it like he’s taking a toy from a toddler. He takes out the empty clip and examines it with a frown, his hair flopping over his face. You’re breathing so shallow you think you might have passed out. You’ve had a lot of dreams about him since he left. You’ve just finally gone off the deep-end, and now they’re hallucinations.

“Hm. Not loaded.” Ben tosses the clip off to the side, shooting you a smirk. “Good girl.”

You don’t know if you scream again, or crawl to him on your knees. He sounds real. He looks real. He’s smiling at you like he never left, like you hadn’t pour every piece of yourself out to make room for the swelling grief of his absence. If you reach out, you think you’d find solid muscle and warmth. A heart that beats under your fingers, in a rhythm you always hear when you close your eyes. Ben would cover your hand with his own, holding onto your wrist the same way he did before. Like he wanted to tie you together. Like he could never bear to let go.

Or you’d just pass right through thin air.

And everything you have left would dissolve with the illusion.

You wrap your arms tight around your stomach, drawing your knees to your chest. You know this is fear. You know Ben thinks fear is weak, but he’s never looked at you and said you were anything but his.

Then he left.

And you’re not anyone’s anymore.

Ben says your name, and you swallow. He sounds so real.

“Ben?” You whisper.

A familiar smile ghosts over his lips. It terrifies you.

“Me.” He murmurs, tossing the gun onto the couch without breaking your gaze. “Hey, doll.”

He takes a step forward.

You push back, pressing yourself into a small ball on the floor.

Ben freezes. His brow furrows, and his lips press in a tight, thin line. He reaches out. And you don’t want to touch him and know he’s not real.

You shrink away.

“How did you get in.” You whisper, fixing your gaze on his knees.

“You didn’t lock the door.” Ben grunts. “Which we gotta talk about later, that’s not fucking safe, but first-“

He says your name, reaching once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

Strong, warm fingers grab your chin. You make a tiny noise from the back of your throat, and for a split second, the whole world goes still.

You can feel him. He’s tipping your chin up, handling you like a baby bird even as he angles it how he wants, and you can feel him.

“Look at me.” Ben mutters, and you drag your eyes open.

He’d kneeling in front of you, brow furrowed tight. There’s that look again. The one that makes you naked and exposed, your clothing sticking to your skin and every inch of you seen.

Ben sees you. You can see him.

And either you’d fully lost your mind, or he’s… He’s really…

“You’re here.” You breathe. “You’re real.”

Ben’s eyes snap to yours. His frown deepens.

“’Course I’m real, why the hell wouldn’t I be real.”

“You left.”

And something flashes over his features. It’s furious and loud, but not directed at you. His fingers on your chin don’t even flex.

“I didn’t leave.” He grunts, the words pushed through his teeth. “I told you I’d never fucking leave you.”

Your tongue flicks over your lips. You shake your head.

“I saw you on TV.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, those weird fuckin’ attention sluts love a camera-“

“You were there, Ben.” You cut him off with only a whisper. “Not here. I- I thought you were dead.”

The stupid tears are back. And they always blur the whole world, but Ben remains sharp. Of course he does. Bastard.

“I waited.” Your voice breaks. Ben watches you, his jaw clenched tight. “I thought you were dead and I still waited, and you- You were just on TV-“

“Don’t say it like that, it’s- That’s not what this shit is-“

“You left.” 

“No, I didn’t-“

“You left me.” You scream, and Ben blinks.

It’s like every bit of pain, every scrape and open wound you’ve been treating with paper band-aides, Ben’s ripped everything wide open. Your tears are falling freely, your voice high and soft as you struggle to breathe, all the grief and anger at him crashing from your mouth in unforgiving waves.

“You left me, you said you’d come back, you said we’d go anywhere and you’d be here and you- You fucking left me here and I- I-“

Your word crack into a body-shaking sob, and you try to slump away from him. To just sink into the floor where he can’t see your weakness, your crying, every fissure in the mask you’re usually so good at keeping together. You don’t want him to see the rawness underneath. The way that you’ve always been ill-matched, because there’s nothing in Ben that even knows how to break, but you’re like an gastropod. Every bit of armor is borrowed and crafted. Under it, you’re nothing for him.

Weak.

“You left me.” You’re still breathing it out. You can’t stop. “You left.”

Ben sighs. And when he gets up and walks away, you’re going to be okay. You’re going to find a way to be okay, even if that means just having this gaping feeling forever.

But Ben doesn’t leave.

He wraps around you, and you wiggle a little, but he doesn’t let go. He pulls you fully into his lap, and you go limp. Your face presses into his chest, tears flowing freely with every shaking, silent sob. Ben rubs your back, holding you steady. And despite yourself, you hold on. You sink in your nails where you never should’ve let go, and you hold on.

His heartbeat hasn’t changed. And everything in your still recognizes it.

Still calls it yours.

“Didn’t run.” He mutters once your breathing has evened, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Butcher turned on me, helped Homelander and that Maeve bitch knock me off the tower. Got put back under. Homelander woke me up. And the first fucking thing I did was start looking for you, but you weren’t where I left you.”

You swallow. You’d moved because you couldn’t stand that apartment without him. You turned every corner and expected him to be there. It was pure torture.

“But I found you.” Ben continues. “I fucking found you. And I’m not going again, doll. We’re leaving, together, and that’s it.”

Ben tugs on your head, and you let him pull you back. He’s not crying—you’d be shocked if he knew how—but there’s a heavy light in his eyes, like a lamp that’s begging to be bright enough to be seen. You reach up to trace his jaw. His eyes close for a second, and he leans into the touch.

Your throat bobs. Your voice is still small.

“Why should I believe you?”

Ben’s eyes shoot open, glinting and sharp. Not dangerous. Never to you.

Just focused.

“Because I’m telling the fucking truth-“

“Swear it?”

Ben nods, and you tilt your head.

“You swore you’d come back.”

“And I am back.” He grabs your wrist, keeping your hand to his face. “No promises got broken, doll. And I’m not fucking leaving without you.”

You laugh, something in you breaking and fusing together all at once. Like glass, burning before it gets to be something beautiful. Something that can let the light in.

“Don’t say that.” You breathe, holding his gaze. “I’ll believe you.”

Ben’s eyes narrow. He leans over you, that attention as unwavering as always, and suddenly there’s nowhere to hide. Not that you ever could. Not from him.

“You think I’m not serious?” He murmurs, low and dangerous.

You don’t flinch. You never have.

“Prove that you are.”

A deep sound rumbles from Ben’s chest. He lets go of his hand, his own flying up to frame your face. Your breath hitches, right as his lips slam against yours.

You’ve kissed Ben many times. He always does it like it’s going to be the last time he ever touches you. He’s demanding in how much you take, but never how much you give. Your mouth falls open in a moan, and he grunts, hauling you up his chest to deepen the kiss. It’s sloppy and wet, your fingers scrambling against his shirt to keep steady, but he doesn’t falter for a single second.

“Be- Ben-“

He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing as his teeth drag over your swollen lips.

“Ben-“

“That’s right.” He grunts. “Say my name, I know you didn’t forget who fuckin’ owns you.”

God, you should shove him for that. But he knows what it does to you. He smirks, when your thighs clench and a soft whine escapes your lips.

Ben lands a sharp slap on your ass. It makes you keen, collapsing over his chest. You’re pulling at him, kisses uncoordinated and desperate—how did you ever survive without this, you’re not sure—as you try to further a kiss that’s already fusing you together by the mouth.

He doesn’t even come up for air.

“Oh- Fuck, Ben-“

He speaks against your lips, voice rolling in his chest. 

“I know, doll. You believe me now, don’t you.”

“Ye- Yes-“

Another slap. This time he lets his hand drag lower, teasing over the crease between your thighs, then the hem of your shorts. Your hips buck into the featherlight touch. Ben grunts, short and tight.

“Dirty girl.” He mutters, starting to wander his kisses over your cheeks. “Say it louder. You fucking believe me.”

“I- Ooooh-“

You press your face into his neck, biting down a moan. The tips of his fingers are tracing your pussy through your shorts. You sink your nails into his shoulders, your breathing ragged as he starts to trace them back and forth.

“You what?” He teases, nipping at your ear. “Heard you start to say something doll, you already that stupid? I’m barely fucking touching you.”

“You- You’re touching enough.” You breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut. “More- Please-“

“More?” Ben snorts. “You’re always getting me on that fucking feelings shit, you don’t get more until you talk.”

You shake your head. “Ben, I- I can’t-“

“Can’t what? Can’t speak? Can’t say Ben, I believe you. ‘Cause trust me doll, when you do I’m going to touch you for real, and you’ll feel real fucking stupid for how you’re acting right now.”

Ben rips clean through your shorts, and thick, warm fingers start to rub the lips of your pussy. He scissors two fingers, pressing them just upside your core, then dragging back and forth. It’s all pressure and not enough friction. It’s going to drive you out of your mind.

“Come on, baby, where’d all that fucking spunk go-“

“You- Benjamin-“

“Uh oh.” He laughs. “I’m in trouble.”

The tips of his fingers graze your clit. You whine, grinding back into the touch, and Ben grabs your pussy with a single hand. He’s covering it completely, pinning you to his chest, and you moan so loud you think it echoes.

“Think you’re going to forgive me?” He mutters in your ear. “Think I’m not dead fuckin’ serious, when I tell you that I’m back. That I want you, all of you, and I’d kill people to have it.”

“I- I don’t want you to kill anyone.” You breathe, dazed and drunken on him.

Ben chuckles, kissing right under your jaw.

“I know you don’t, pretty girl. And I’ll go on the damn leash if you’re yanking me, but I’m not letting you drop me. We go, we go together, you fucking remember that. We get out. You gonna get out with me?”

“Ben-“

“I’ll take care of you.” He mutters. His hand starts to move again, torturously slow. “I’ll be real fucking good to you, swear it. Swear it on you.”

Two fingers slide over your pussy, spreading your arousal on his fingertips. A slow, breathless sigh of escapes your lips, and Ben lets you have this. He teases those fingers over your cunt a few times, then slowly pushes one of them in. You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. Just his finger is the biggest stretch of your life.

“I know.” He kisses under your ear, pressing it further in until he’s at the knuckle. “It’s a lot, isn’t it. But you’re doin’ so fucking well. Sweet fucking pussy, all wet and tight for me.”

“Mmmh.”

“Say it’s for me.” He demands, crooking them so they hit a soft little button you’re never able to find yourself.

“Ben-“

“Say it.”

“S’ for you-“ You take in a sharp breath, when he starts to slowly pump them in and out. “All for you, Ben, I- I’m all-“

Your words break into a moan. He’s pressing back against that same spot, rubbing it until you’re squeezing around him before drawing shallowly out and slamming back in. Obscene sounds fill the room, and you didn’t even know you could get this wet.

It’s a grace. Ben’s finger is massive. You can feel every drag of him inside you, and you’re not sure how you’re managing to take it when you keep squeezing around him.

“How- How big is your dick?”

He barks a laugh, pulling your face back with his hand on the back of your neck. He kisses you slowly, matching the pace of his fingers moving inside you.

“You’ll see, baby.” He says. “Just need to be good.”

You pout slightly. “I am being good.”

Ben’s lips twitch. He kisses your forehead, then suddenly speeds his fingers up. Your back arches, hips grinding as you try to chase the feeling, but he holds you firm.

“Ben-“

“Say it.” He grunts, squeezing the back of your neck. “You wanna be so fucking good, say it-“

“I love you!” Your words come sudden and desperate. “I- I love- I love you, please-“

You almost scream, when his fingers stop moving. You grab his wrist, blinking in hopeless confusion. Ben’s jaw is clenched tight, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

Then you realize.

Shit.

“Ben, I- I didn’t-“

“You didn’t mean it?” He grunts, and you shake your head frantically.

“I didn’t mean to- I just- I missed you, and you said- And you were-“ You gesture frantically at his hand. His fingers, still buried deep inside you. “And I- You don’t have to-“

Ben moves, and your words turn into a squeal. You’re airborne, being tossed over his shoulder as he stands.

“Fuck- Benjamin, what are you-“

He slaps your ass, then drags two fingers back through your pussy. You close your eyes, biting your lower lip to stifles the moan at the perfect combo of pleasure and pain.

Ben spanks you again, his voice stern as he moves to his feet.

“Don’t fucking do that quiet shit. Let me hear you.”

His finger pushes back into your cunt, finding that spongey spot in a second. This time you let yourself moan fully, and you’re rewarded with a scraping kiss on your ass.

“There you go, baby. That’s what I want.”

You keen at the praise, and you don’t know why you bothered hiding it from him. Ben feels and see the flutter of your pussy and chuckles. Your knees are dragged together, forcing more pressure, making you tighter around his finger when he shoves it back in.

“Be- Ben-“ Your getting light-headed, from the combination of his touch and being upside down. “What- What’re we doing-“

“You’re telling me where the bedroom is.” He grunts, turning in a circle like a magic sign is going to appear. “Then I’m fucking you ‘till you can’t walk.”

“Oh- Okay.”

You grab a fistful of his shirt as he slaps your ass again, moaning when that fucking finger starts to pump once more. There’s a pressure building in your core, and the way he’s holding you is only making it worse. Like you’re just a toy, but still the most important thing in his life. He keeps kissing your thigh and ass while he fingerfucks you. Your exposed to the cold air, the window is open, but the warmth of his hand and body—the warmth of what he’s doing to you—is almost too much to handle.

“Bed, doll.” His reminder is gruff, but soft.

You nod, your tongue all loose and hopeless. “I- I um- It was- That way-“

You press on his shoulder, steering him towards the door and Ben slaps your pussy.

“Good girl.”

The praise and touch shoot through you like a drug. You think you might be about to cum just like this. Over Ben’s shoulder with barely any friction at all.

He kicks the door open, and marches into your room. You’ve never seen him so focused before. He lays you down on the bed with shocking care, before ripping at your clothing like a child on Christmas.

Ben whistles, when you’re fully exposed to him.

“Look at you, baby, can’t believe I was sleeping next to you for months and you wouldn’t let me touch.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your breasts. “You didn’t earn touching. Only good, domesticated boys get that.”

Ben scowls, pulling off his shirt. “I’m a domesticated fucking man, doll.”

And you giggle. Because he’s so fucking stupid, but he’s here. You’d cry if there wasn’t a helium filled light, blooming through your body.

You still might cry.

Ben’s looking at you like you’ve lost your mind—and like he doesn’t care the slightest, he’s just mostly concerned—and you laugh more because you’re definitely going to cry. You’re going to cry during sex with Soldier Boy, and he’s still going to fuck you anyway. 

“You know it’s not nice to start fucking laughing before a man takes his pants off-“

“I love you.”

You say it plainly, because it is. You love Ben. You have for so long, and it had been buried like treasure, but now he’s here. Now it gets to shine, and it’s far too bright to be ignored.

Ben looks shell-shocked. He’s panting like you punched him, but you’re not worried. He’s a big boy. He’ll be okay.

You both will.

“I love you,” you repeat, beaming up at him. “I love you so much, Ben, I-“

You giggle again, as he almost stumbles forward to kiss you. His massive chest envelops you, his kisses pushing you back into the mattress, and you meet him with everything you have.

Ben pulls back. Staring at you the same way he always has.

Like he’s found the last, greatest wonder of the world.

“Say it again.” He mutters.

“I love you.”

You offer it easily. It’s his to have.

And Ben seems to swallow it. His mouth closes, his tongue flicking over his lips, and you know that face.

It means he’s on a fucking mission.

“Here’s how this is going.” He grunts, fixing you with a glare. “You listen. I work. I’m tasting you,” he slaps your pussy again, lips twitching at the full body shutter it gives him. “Then you’re going to cum on my cock until you’re sobbing, and I’m going to keep fucking you until you can’t walk. You got that.”

You swallow and nod. Ben’s eyes narrow.

“You talk to me, sweetheart, I can’t read your fucking mind.”

“Got it.” You breathe, your legs spreading wide.

It’s a shameless offering. Ben slaps your pussy again, and you buck a little of the bed with a whine of delight.

“Hold onto something.” He winks, sliding slowly down your body. “I ain’t going fucking easy.”

You expect no less of him. And you’d be able to make that joke, if he didn’t lick a thick stripe up your pussy and make you shriek.

“Holy fuck-“ Your eyes roll back in your head, your hands clawing at the sheets.

Ben chuckles, the sound vibrating against you, and repeats the motion. Your thighs press together, but he shoves them back open with a single hand, settling fully down.

“No hiding from me.” He mutters, breath warm over your core. “Look at you, doll. Even prettier from down here, didn’t know that was fucking possible.”

You laugh breathlessly. “Kiss ass.”

“Gets me places.” Ben kisses the inside of your thigh, sucking softly.

His beard scrapes and tickles against you, his chin pressing where you need him and his nose bumping your neglected clit.

“Ohhhh.” You close your eyes, slowly running your fingers through his hair. “Oh God, Ben-“

He hums in approval, switching to match the mark on the other side. He’s let go of your thighs to grab everywhere else, rubbing your ass, your hips, your sides. He slides a massive palm over your abdomen, pinning you to be bed. You should know that’s a warning sign, but you’re too lost in the heat of his mouth.

“Ben...” You moan freely, covering his hand with one of yours.

He flips it over, and you thread your fingers together.

Another warning.

“That’s- Fuck-“

He blows on your clit, and shivers run up your spine. You don’t think you can take being teased any longer. Not right now.

“More, Ben, more-“

A dark, promising chuckle rumbles in his chest. You crane your neck to look at him, and realize your mistake too late.

He’d been waiting for you to ask. And now that you have, he’s not holding back.

Ben shoves his face fully between your thighs, lapping and sucking at your clit and soaked pussy like a man starved, and your mouth falls in a long, silent scream.

You’ve been eaten out before, but never like this. Ben’s going at you the same way he kisses you. The same way he does everything. With everything he has, and the mindset that less is a sin. If something is worth doing, he’s not going to slack.

And your pussy is under that full focus. It’s almost too much to handle.

Ben makes out with every sensitive spot, inside and outside. He licks and tongue-fucks, letting you squeeze around him and pushing your ass up to hit a better angle. He noses at your clit while he works on your gaping, leaking hole, then switches.

Soft, slightly chapped lips wrap around your clit, sucking on you with all the power of a fucking sex toy. His tongue flicks back and forth over and over again, building you into a whining, cloudy eyed frenzy. You scratch at his scalp and pull on his hair, but it just makes him moan, and now everything is vibrating.

Everything seems to make him moan. Ben grunt every time you jerk your hips, slamming them back down and squeezing your hand. He moans when you squeeze down on his tongue, when he brings you right up to the edge then stops at the last second, so you slam his shoulders in frustration.

Sometimes he laughs. And that’s even worse. It makes his massive arms—wrapped around your hips—flex, and it goads him into working you impossibly deeper. You turn your face, pressing it into the pillows. Ben squeezes your hand, dragging your clit between his teeth before pulling away for a single second.

“Eyes.” He grunts, and your attention snaps over.

“Be- Ben-“

“Watch me, doll.” He open-mouth kisses you clit, and you whimper. “That’s right, don’t you look away for a fucking second.”

Now that you’re watching, you couldn’t if you tried.

Ben goes back to his self-assigned job, and the sight is more lewd and sinful than any porno in the world. His massive shoulders roll and flex as he moves you how he wants. You can’t see his mouth, but you can see him moving his head with his tongue on your clit. He shakes it, playing the nerve bundle like a bop-it, and you’re right back up the edge again.

And again, Ben stops.

You almost scream, and Ben chuckles. He kisses your poor, throbbing clit all sweet, then goes back to slowly working his tongue against your entrance. You’re wound too tight. You think you might snap from just the wrong breath.

“Be- Ben-“ You pull his hair, trying to get him back up to your clit. “Ben, let me cum- I- I need to cum-“

He just moans again. You’re going to kill him.

“Please, I- I can’t take it-“ You moan, trying to squirm your body further onto his face. “God, Ben, I can’t- I need it so bad, please-“

Sharp, lust-blown eyes snap to yours. You whimper, giving him your best hopeless pout. It’s the one that usually gets him to cave. He laughs and shakes his head and gives you whatever you want, grumbling affectionately about how damn impossible you are.

But this time, he just smirks against your pussy. And you might have him wrapped around your finger, but he’s got you cornered.

Take it. He’d said.

You don’t think you have a choice.

“Look at you,” Ben drawls, kissing your clit. His beard drags. You whimper, eyes locked onto his.

The sounds earns you another kiss, and it makes you squirm. With how his eyes gleam, you’re worried he’ll just keep you like this all night.

“You’re close.” He mocks, rubbing his palm against your pussy. “So close, baby doll. I can fuckin’ see it, you’re about to cry.”

You glare at him, and he just grins.

“You think I’ll give a shit? Think I don’t want to see you break for me?”

He presses his hand down harder. You go to reach for it, but Ben grabs your wrist and pins it firmly next to him on the mattress.

“No touching.” He grunts. “Mine.”

Oh, that makes you clench around nothing. After, you’re going to force him to make dinner and maybe do taxes or drive a car to earn feminism points back, but right now everything is just Ben, lying between your legs, calling you his.

And he’s staring at your pussy, almost transfixed. You moan as his thumb rubs your clit, his hand rising up so he can watch you react. You can feel yourself, gushing and fluttering. Desperate for anything he can give you. You’ll beg more, you’ll take it however he wants, you just need more.

“Christ on a fucking cross.” Ben mutters, pressing his cheek into your thigh. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of pussies, doll.”

You shoot him a look. “Romantic.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your clit between his fingers.

“Was going to say yours is the best, you fucking brat.”

You smile, cupping his cheek with trembling fingers. You’re seconds from exploding with desire, but you just want to hold him. Feel him, for only a little longer.

Something in Ben’s expression shifts. For the briefest moment, it softens. His shoulders relax, and the slow breath he lets out sounds like a release. He kisses the inside of your palm. His thumb pushing on your clit, dragging it back and forth in a steady, relieving rhythm.

But you’re too sensitive. You’re being worked back up too fast, and tears start to prick.

“Ben.” You breathe, fingers curling against his cheek. “Please.”

He smirks. There’s one last kiss on your clit, then another on your well-bruised thighs. He rises to his knees, slapping your pussy while one hand undoes his belt.

Ben chuckles, at the way you fully tremble from the hit.

“You fucking like that shit, don’t you.”

You shrug, watching his belt slide away. “Maybe.”

“You do. Can see it, you-“ He pushes two fingers back into your cunt, and you moan.

“Ben- Oooooh-“

He tosses aside his belt, spanks your clit, and grins triumphantly.

“Fucking felt that. You started pouring on me like a waterfall, you love it-“

You kick at his thigh, flushing and rolling your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I will.” He drawls, going back to his pants. “Think I get to talk as much as I want, baby doll. You’re the one that’s going to be fucked all damn stupid.”

You had a smart, sharp retort.

It dies when Ben pulls down his pants, and you see his cock.

Of course he’s such an arrogant, smug ass. Endowed is too weak a word. He’s blessed. He’s got the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen—thick and long in all the best ways, like it was handcrafted to give your pussy a heart attack—and with the look on his face, he fucking knows it.

“See something you like,” he grins down at you, stroking himself slowly.

“I… Um…” You lick your lips, crawling slowly up the mattress. “You’re very…”

You trail off again. You’re humping the sheets like an animal, forcing yourself not to just fucking touch yourself, but it’s impossible. He’s too… everything.

Ben laughs, prowling up over you.

“You’re fucking drooling.”

“You’re pretty.”

“I am not fucking pretty.”

“You are.” You roll your eyes, letting Ben drag you onto your back. “You’re so pretty, Ben, it’s bonkers.”

He grunts, settling himself above you. “Pretty is what you call a fucking show pony.”

“You are a show pony.”

That earns you a glower. You beam back in return, giggling at your own jokes.

“When we’re done, you should let me braid your- Oh my God-“

You grab at his shoulder, eyes going wide as Ben slides his cock into you with one, smooth movement. He drives right into your g-spot, dropping his hips so he’s pinning you into it. He grinds down, abs rubbing on your clit, and there it is.

That coil that had been building in you all night. Ben gets inside of you for ten seconds, and you snap.

You writhe and scramble under him, grabbing at his chest and trying to hide from the overwhelming orgasm ripping through your body. Ben grabs your jaw and forces your gaze back to his, still grinding down onto you as it drags on. You whimper, making garbled sounds of his name.

Ben kisses you, as you twitch through the last bits of it. You turn to limp putty, moaning into his mouth and shivering as he settles at being bottomed out.

“That’s what I wanted to see.” He mutters, nipping at your upper lip. “That’s what I fucking dreamed about.”

You whimper, and Ben laughs. He gives you a shallow thrust, and your eyes go wide.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, baby.” He teases, ghost his lips over yours. “We got a lot of fucking time to make up for, and you,” he gives another, sharper slam of his hips. “Are too fucking gorgeous to just give one orgasm.”

A strangled sound escapes your lips, and Ben grins.

“I know. But feel that,” he pulls all the way out, then slams back in. “Real good, isn’t it. Fuck, this pussy was made for me. Going to fuck you until my name is written on it, until it can’t even take anyone else.”

His logic is flawed, but you still moan. Hard not to, when you’ve got all the mass and power of him over you, driving in and out of you at a torturously slow pace.

“That’s my girl.” He coos, bumping your nose before going for a hot, sloppy kiss. “That’s a good fuckin’ cock slut for me, aren’t you.”

Your eyes fly open, your pussy clenching down, and Ben laughs. He starts to drill into you, knocking every bit of air from your lungs.

“Yeah, I know how you like it. My dirty baby, get off of me telling you that I own you,” he slams down, and tears burn at your eyes. “That I’m going to fucking wreck you, turn you into my fuck doll, my sweet little fucking whore.”

You moan, the shame only making the heat in your tummy build faster. Ben rises over you, hair pressed to his brow from sweat.

“That’s right. Take it, take this cock and thank me for it.”

He slides his thumb over your lips, pressing down ever so slightly as his cock fucks ruthlessly in and out of your pussy. You mewl, opening your mouth for him to take. Ben laughs, thick and breathless, and pushes his thumb in.

“Fucking- Christ-“ He groans as you start to suck. “You’re so fucking beautiful, and- Tight-“

He groans, fucking impossibly harder. The bed squeaks and shifts. You moan around his thumb, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“Crying for me, baby doll, so fucking desperate you’re going to cry for it- Shit-“

Your second orgasm hits suddenly. You clench down on Ben, making him groan loudly. His chest is tight with restraint, and you scratch at the muscle, whining around his thumb.

It’s so much. Too much. You’re stuffed so full, and you can barely breathe, and it’s perfect but you don’t know what to do with yourself but sob and moan.

“There you go, so tight and warm.” Ben’s babbling. You think he’s lost himself as much as you have. “Fuck, you’re going to be death of me if you keep lookin’ like that, gotta-“

You squeak as Ben pulls his thumb and cock out with wet sounds. There’s no time to protest the loss, though, before you’re being flipped onto your stomach and fucked within and inch of your life.

Ben drags your ass in the air, barely giving you a second to recover before he’s back to railing you into the mattress. You cum even faster this time, between the filthy words and deeper position.

“Greedy pussy can’t get enough, can she.” Ben grunts in your ear, his chest draped over your back. “You love it, fucking love being marked up and fucked like an animal. You fucking slut, bet that pretty mouth needs something to suck on again. Be you’ll look so pretty choking on my dick, to bad you look even fuckin’ better like this.”

You cum again with Ben’s thumb in your mouth, tears on your cheeks, and his body wrapped around yours. Then a third time, when he rises up and plays with your ass, shoving your head into the mattress to watch you cry and try to wiggle back on his cock.

After a while, you lose track of what position your in. You’re over him, then under, then pressed against the headboard and folded in half. You don’t know how he’s held himself off this long. You’re a boneless, oversensitive puddle made of countless orgasms, by the time Ben starts to rut and groan.

Ben finishes inside you, holding you firmly above him as his hips jerk up. You watch him come apart under dazed, tear-stained lashes. It’s the most beautiful sight in the world. He’s pumping into you, hot and jerking, dripping out of your pussy as just more and more comes. A wet sound fills the air, and you can see his own release stained over his abdomen as he just keeps going.

You think you pass out, after. You must, because when you come too, you’re lying on clean sheets and wearing Ben’s shirt. You stare at the ceiling for a while, still partially lost to the world.

You come back to earth, when Ben says your name. He’s coming out of the shower, bare-chested and glorious.

He gives you that small smile, and you return it without a thought.

“Feeling alright?” He mutters, climbing into bed at your side.

No pants. Unhelpful.

“Um-“ You stare at his cock, swinging between his thighs. Your mouth is watering. “You…”

“Jesus, woman.” He snorts. “I’m not trying to fucking break you, stop slobbering.”

“I am not slobbering-“

“Yeah, you fucking are.”

You stick your tongue out and try to roll away, but Ben’s right. He worked you. One movement comes with a whine, and suddenly you’re being pinned below Ben’s bare body.

“Rest.” He scolds, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re not my boss-“

“Yeah, but I love you, and I’m going to be real damn pissed if you hurt yourself.” He taps your jaw. “Rest.”

You blink at him.

And again, Ben just finds a way to make you feel more full.

“You love me?” You whisper.

He blinks. You don’t think he knows he said it.

“Of course I do-“

“Say it.”

He scowls. “You heard it, means I said it-“

“Say it again.” You give him that look. The pouty one.

This time, it’s going to work.

“Please?” You add.

Ben sighs, shaking his head, and glares at you like you’re the bane of his existence.

You might be. But he likes it, and he’s the one who’s going to be keeping you at the center of his universe.

“I love you.” He grunts.

You beam, and Ben kisses you with a labored sigh. It’s slow. Romantic.

Meant to remind you that you have time.

“Good boy.” You whisper, and he groans.

“You’re real lucky-“

“Yeah.” You cut him off, and he lets you.

He always lets you. Because he loves you.

“I am.”

✦End note: i dont care what he does in the show this is my emotional support old horny man✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo whose favorite thing is making you beg. She'll have you on your knees, pretty mouth stretched around her strap while she pets your hair and mocks you in her sweet and condescending voice. "You can go deeper, sweetheart. You were so loud on the phone earlier telling me how empty you felt. Now you're acting like you can’t handle it?" She pushes her hips forward just enough to make you gag, then laughs when tears prick your eyes.

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who, after she's got you all worked up and dripping, she flips you onto the bed like you weight nothing, the size difference always makes you throb. She's a special grade sorcerer and you're just... you. It turns you on so much you get stupid for her. You end up face down, ass up, whimpering her name while she fucks you hard from behind, one hand fisted in your hair. "That's iiiiiit, moan for me louder, stupid girl. Let me hear how much you love getting that tight pussy ruined."

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo whose aftercare is soft in the filthiest way. She pulls you into her lap, still buried inside of you and makes you cockwarm her while she feeds you snacks and strokes you back. Yo2u get all clingy, nuzzling into her chest, you hear her chuckle and say: "Look at my cute girl. Don't worry, princess, your mom will never find out how much of a whore you are for me."

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who loves the risk. It makes everything hotter. Sometimes she'll text you while you're having dinner with your mom, describing exactly what she's going to do to you later. You have to sit there blushing and trying not to squirm while Yuki sends messages like gonna fuck that pretty mouth until you forget your own name. You always end up excusing yourself early with some lame excuse just to run back to her.

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who still can't believe how shy you get even after all the times she's fucked you stupid. When you're riding her she'll grip your hips hard enough to bruise and force you to look her in the eyes. "Don't hide that face. I wanna see how dumb I make you." You always end up a teary mess, telling her how she owns you and how you'd let her do anything.

With a relationship as strong as theirs, most people around them figured nothing could shake their bond. That nobody could have the power to turn either of their heads.

One of those is true; their bond has never been stronger. And since having their head’s turned, their relationship has never been better.

It all started with Remy. A womanizer at heart, when he’d seen you with your tight skirt, moving things into your office ahead of your new position as a creative writing teacher at Xavier’s institute. With an easy smile, he charmed you completely, helping you with your things and playfully moving your hair away from your eyes. The feelings that blossomed in your chest filled you with excitement and shame, the wedding band gleaming from his finger catching your eye.

That guilt for feeling so affected by his flirtation lasted until you met his wife. She was taller than you expected, her thick hair cascading down her back as she lulled you in to an easy conversation. Taken aback by her closeness, you remember having to fight the heat rising to your cheeks when she laughed and traced her fingers along your arm.

Little did you know they’d both discussed you, and when you were suddenly confronted with the opportunity to be able to sleep with two of the hottest x-men you’d seen in your life, you’d have been a fool to say no.

Which began your unconventional relationship with them. Everyone around you just thought it was sweet, how close friends you were with the pair. Little did they know the predicaments you found yourself in when you’d slip into their room at night.

“Me and Remy always used t’argue about who’d get to be in charge,” Anna-Marie would say, looking down at your sweet obedient face. “Now we have you.”

Some nights you’d be on your back, body jolting with every rough trust of Remy’s dick inside your soaked pussy. For such a big talker, you were surprised he had the size to back it, as ever drag of his hips had your cunt stretched oh so deliciously. Not that you could vocalise it, since atop your mouth was Anna-Marie’s pussy as she ground down on your tongue. Her thighs were settled on either side of your face, but you could still hear them talking.

“Mon dieu she’s so tight.” Gambit slurred out, rocking his cock in and out.

“She’s such a good girl.” Rogue replied, her hips stuttering as she thoroughly used your mouth.

Above you, the couple held hands, leaning forward and kissing sloppily. Using you like a toy was clearly thrilling for the pair, and was making your cunt gush.

Some times, you’d be granted a fleeting moment of control. Remy on his knees, switching between feasting on your wet cunt or Anna-Marie’s. His balance was wobbling, with his hands tied behind his back, but his smile showed exactly how much he loved being on the floor. Or perhaps Anna-Marie is in that position, sucking Remy off as your hand is in her hair, piloting her movements. While you could call some of the shots, one of them always had the control.

Other times, Anna-Marie would strap herself up, fucking you on your hands and knees as you bobbed your head up and down Remy’s hard dick. His hand gently stroked your cheek, allowing you to control the pace, satiated with the view of his wife giving it to you good.

“You’re fuckin’ her brains out there chère.” He’d laugh, suppressing a groan as a particularly good thrust had you taking more of him down your throat.

“It’s a pretty good workout.” She’d reply, giving your ass a spank. “She just looks too cute.”

“I know mon amour, like our own little pet.”

That word. Pet. It ignited something in the three of you, something so naughty and hot and downright intoxicating. So when Remy invited you both to their room one night, a devious smirk on his face, you knew it spelt trouble.

“C’mon sugar, why ain’t you tellin’ us what’s got y’so excited?” Rogue says, still in her green and yellow outfit, shrugging her jacket off.

“He hasn’t told you?” You ask, head tilted to which she laughs and shakes her head.

“He wasn’t in the danger room trainin’ with the others.”

“No I was not.” He says proudly, a bag in his hand. “I took a little trip.”

You watch as he digs around in the bag, before looking back up at you.

“Now mon chaton, would you do me the honour of closin’ those pretty little eyes.”

You oblige him, eyelids fluttering closed. A streak of nerves and excitement jolt through your spine as you stand there. He clearly takes something out of the bag, given Rogue’s excited little giggle.

“You trust me, trust us, don’t you?” He asks, to which you nod instinctively.

Another breath, and then you feel something around your throat. Your back goes stiff, as you feel a buckle close and something remain around your neck.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You ask softly, to which Rogue gives you the all clear.

Your eyelids open, and you can’t help the breath that catches in your throat. While you can’t see exactly the type of collar he’s put on you, you can see the gold chain that runs from your neck to his hand.

His smirk speaks volumes, before he gives the chain an experimental tug, causing you to stumble forward.

“Oh this’ll do mighty fine.” He coos, before handing the leash to his wife.

She giggles again, pulling on the chain so you stumble towards her. Her hands come up to the collar, feeling the material and making you lean into her touch.

“Don’t you look the part now sugar, our little pet.” She says lowly, her eyes darkening with lust. “But pets don’t walk on two feet do they?”

The couple laugh as you get flustered, dropping to your knees before they walk over to the bed, giving eachother a kiss.

“C’mon then baby, atta girl.” Remy says, patting his thigh to encourage you. With a moment to breath, you start to crawl over to them, your leash trailing behind you. As you reach the pair, Anna-Marie gives your hair a stroke, before her husband begins to unbuckle his belt.

It isn’t long before his cock is down your throat, drool leaking out of your mouth as you moan around him. He groans, throaty and low as he grips the sheets, the sight of you nearly making him cum prematurely.

You look up at him submissively, tears in the corners of your eyes as you gag softly at the thickness. Anna-Marie has her hand gripped firmly at the roots of your hair, ensuring you can’t wriggle out of her grasp.

“There we go, ain’t you doin’ so well for me and Remy. Makin’ him feel so good.”

Her praise makes you more determined, hands politely in your lap, as you relax your throat as best you can. His hips buck up instinctively.

“Si bon…such a good girl.” He grits out, watching the collar on your neck as his cock sinks in farther.

With a few more drags of your mouth from Rogue’s grip, he’s cumming in your mouth with a loud moan. You do your best to gulp down most of it, but when she finally lets you pull off some leaks out as you swallow and catch your breath.

“Messy pet.” Rogue chastises, wiping some cum from your lips and chin before stuffing her finger in your mouth.

As you suck, Gambit clearly recovers from his orgasm, rolling his neck.

“And you ain’t done yet. Gonna service both of y’owners.”

After his words, he leans down to grip the leash, tugging so you’re on the bed with both of them.

“Get comfy chère.” He winks at Anna-Marie, as she starts to shimmy out of her outfit. He grips your chin, making you watch her undress, your thighs clenching desperately to stop the ache. “Ain’t she just a vision pet.”

“Alright stop y’starin’ and get her in position.” The woman laughs, falling back into the pillows, thick hair spreading out around her like a halo.

Remy wastes no time in bending you over, pushing you at eye level with Anna-Marie’s pussy. He hands the leash to her, before she tugs harshly. Your mouth is on her, and you waste no time in delving into her slick. Your tongue tastes her, eating her slowly and deliberately.

She moans, back arching a little as she holds a tight grip on the leash. Her husband watches for a few minutes, always mesmerised by the image of her in pleasure. But before long, he’s ripping a hole in your tights, grinning at you obeying his instruction to not wear any underwear.

As you lick circles on her clit, Remy pushes a surprise finger into your cunt, the sensation causing you to moan against her. She keeps you snug against her, loving the vibrations of your noises.

“So wet f’us, you like bein’ our pretty pet. All ours to use.”

His voice settled in your ears, along with his two fingers now to the knuckle inside of you. He pumps them rhythmically, almost obsessively. For god knows how long you’re trapped in a dizzying haze of pleasure. Of your tongue licking up every last drop of Anna-Marie, of Remy’s fingers rubbing against that spot inside of you that makes you whine. But from both of them, all you can hear is the same phrase. The phrase that has you toppling into an orgasm.

Lounging behind the counter in a black dry-fit shirt that's cropped to showcase his washboard abs, while his toused white hair and stupidly perfect complexion make him look like he's headed to a photoshoot rather than a workout.

Tipping his sunglasses just low enough for you to catch the flash of icy blue eyes, his grin widens as you approach—like he already knows just how completely out of your depth you are.

“Welcome to Limitless!” he chirps. “I’m the owner, Gojo Satoru.”

Like you don’t already know.

Even a ramen-fueled, overworked shut-in like you knows about @ SixPackGod—TikTok’s reigning fitness thirst trap.

Gojo’s got 5 million followers and a cult-like fanbase—naturally, he monetized it by opening a gym. You’ve definitely seen his videos—stretching in ways that should get him banned and somehow making kettlebell swings look erotic.

As if on cue, a group of girls swish by in matching Lulu, Alo, and Vuori sets—tan, toned, and giggling as they wave at him. He winks back, weaponized charm turned up to 100 earning him shrill squees and coos as they exit.

It makes you want to book it the hell out of there. You clearly had no idea what you were getting yourself into, suddenly becoming painfully aware of your ratty anime tee and faded track shorts from high school.

Gojo turns back to you excitedly, completely unbothered by the fact that you look practically homeless. He launches into a rapid-fire tour, rattling off all the high-tech equipment and renovations—some already done, some still on the way.

You nod, clueless, too busy tracing the slope of his arms, the stretch of his shirt, the twitch of long fingers as he talks with his whole body.

Looking back, Gojo catches your totally glazed-over expression.

“Y’know,” he says, flashing you a panty-evaporating grin, “all new members get one free personal training session. Helps you get the most out of the place.”

Gojo steps in closer, charm dialed up to max and absolutely zero concept of personal space.

“Oh—no, thank you,” you say quickly, hands going up in half-surrender, half-subtle plea for him to back the hell up. “I—I can’t afford that. I mean, to continue after.”

You wouldn’t even be in here if your aunt hadn’t paid for your membership. One session probably costs your rent.

And in this economy?

You can barely afford to heat your apartment in the winter.

Gojo just shrugs, all smiles. “It’s freeeeee though! C’mon cutie.”

Cutie!? You!?

“I-I just don’t wanna waste your time,” you mumble, flustered and trying to keep your shit together. 

“I don’t mind, you wouldn’t be the first,” Gojo flirts with a wink. “Buuuut, if it eases your worries, I’ll set you up with a girl trainer. Yuki. She’s great! Won’t yell at you… well, much. No strings. Promise. C’monnnnnn babe.”

The drawn-out plea and puppy-dog eyes are ridiculous—but the ‘babe’ seals it. 

You fold faster than a wet paper towel in a hurricane, agreeing to sign up for a session on the spot.

What harm could one free session with a girl trainer do?

Except you don’t get Yuki.

Two days later, you show up—and Yuki’s “out sick.”

Instead, standing in front of you is Personal Trainer!Sukuna.

And holy shit—he’s fucking massive.

Like someone compressed chaotic aggression and carved it into pure muscle. Black tribal tattoos snake across his arms and chest, flexing under his tight “trainer” shirt like every inch of him is weaponized.

Your gaze drags from the cut of his shoulders to his chest—and lower, to thighs thick enough to crush a watermelon. And is that—? Oh fuck. There's a heavy print stretching his sweats.

You suddenly get what SZA meant about needing a big boy for winter.

What would it feel like—being pinned under all that weight? Back arched against the mat—

"AYE!"

Sukuna snaps your name like a whip, yanking you out of your fantasy and causing you to flinch so hard your heels lift out of your shoes.

He just looks at you like you’re stupid.

Which, to be fair, at this moment, you absolutely are.

You start babbling, fast and frantic—sputtering about how this is a bad idea, how you’re not going to book more sessions, how you’re probably just wasting his—

He rolls his eyes and gives you a look that screams: I don’t get paid to hear your bullshit.

That shuts you up immediately.

Sukuna’s red eyes then skim over you in a brutally clinical fashion. Unlike your ogling, his glance catalogs every weak point, every soft roll, every underdeveloped muscle in under fifteen seconds.

“Sukuna,” he says flatly. “Your PT.”

That’s it. That’s all the intro he gives you.

“You’re mine for the next sixty minutes—now move!”

You nod like a bobblehead, eyes wide—but he’s already walking away.

Scrambling after him, heart pounding, you try not to trip over your own feet Sukuna leads you deeper into the gym.

Not surprisingly, Sukuna’s intensity is so fierce that you can barely look at him the entire session. He runs you like a drill sergeant—efficient and merciless.

There's zero flirting, no coddling and definitely no encouraging bullshit beyond clipped commands. 

When he needs to correct you, he does it physically—grabbing your hips, waist and shoulders with rough, unapologetic hands. Sukuna moves you into position like you’re a piece of gym equipment needing to be adjusted for his use.

His fingers press into muscle and bone like he already knows exactly how your weak little body is supposed to work for him, and it does, struggling yet ultimately bending to his will.

You can only sort of be thankful that Sukuna doesn’t seem to give a fuck that you freeze under his every touch. He certainly doesn’t blink nor acknowledge when you suck in a sharp breath or let out a shaky, humiliating little sound of anguish when his fingers trace over your ribs to correct your posture.

He just keeps going, dishing out relentless commands that push you harder than you’ve ever worked out in your entire life.

“Stop trying to cheat, brat” Sukuna growls, tapping your soft belly—right over your abs—with just enough force to make you squeak like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“You’re weak here. Engage it. Squeeze tighter. That’s it, good girl.”

Good girl!?

Little does Sukuna know it’s not your core that’s responding but your pelvic muscles, your pussy fluttering wildly at the command like he's addressing her directly. 

By the end of the session, every muscle in your body is cooked. Lungs on fire, like you’ve never worked out a day in your life.

And honestly—if this is what real training entails? 

Then yeah. You definitely haven’t. Not even close.

Still, for a one‑off session, Sukuna gave you more than enough to continue on your own—form breakdowns, weak points to target, enough structure to build a routine from scratch.

Not that you’re thinking about fitness anymore. You just want to crawl out of here—and into bed.

You’re so worn down, so light-headed, that you don’t even notice you’ve grabbed the wrong towel—Sukuna’s, damp and still warm from use—instead of one of the cool eucalyptus-scented ones the gym provides. You sling it over your shoulders without thinking, wobbling toward the water fountain.

By the time you bend down for a much-needed drink, it practically slaps you across the face. 

The aroma of salty sandalwood and heat, along with a musk so dark and undeniably masculine it makes your belly tingle.

Oh sweet fuck!

Warmth floods your senses, spreading through you all the way down to your toes. Your legs begin to quake once more—worse than they did during the three-minute wall squats Sukuna forced you to hold. 

You’re no virgin—but you’ve never been affected by a man’s scent like this.

Ever.

You spot the laundry bin the moment you step into the women’s locker room—your rational brain whispering to just drop the towel and walk away.

Your hand hovers over the bin… but lingers a second too long. Voices now echo behind you as a group of women enter.

Snatching the towel back on instinct, your pulse spikes as you shove it into your locker like illicit contraband. There's no time to think more about it as you rush to the showers, hoping cold water can cool off whatever the hell is happening in your brain.

The shower soothes your muscles but it does nothing for the fire in your belly rapidly increasing.

Already weak, you slide down the cool tile. Water beats against your body as your fingers slip between your thighs on instinct. You circle your clit once, twice, then trail lower, pushing two fingers into your cunt with shaking hands.

You bite your lip hard, trying to stay quiet, acutely aware of how thin the walls are, how public and just wrong this is.

Yet no matter how hard you work your fingers, you can’t scratch the itch.

Even angling yourself so the water beats directly against your clit doesn’t get you there.

Shiiiit. You can’t even get off properly. Argh!

Frustrated and flustered, you finally give up. Shutting off the shower, you towel off in record time and book it out of the locker room—but not before stuffing Sukuna’s sweat-drenched towel deep into your duffel like contraband.

Glancing around you attempt to play it cool as you make your exit… only to duck your head a little too obviously as you pass the front desk.

Gojo, of course, spots you anyway. He waves at you cheerily and you try not to flinch as you force a smile and wave back, doing your best to look inconspicuous.

Nothing at all like the perverted little horn-dog thief you actually are.

You drive home like a woman possessed. The second your door clicks shut behind you, you’re already bolting for your room.

Shoes kicked off in a hurry, your duffel landed on the bed with a heavy thud. Your hands shake as you fumble with the zipper, pulse pounding with the insanity of what you’re about to do.

There it is.

The stolen towel, still damp and filthy, you lift it to your face and inhale like it’s oxygen itself.

God, that hits!

Your eyes lodge into your skull as the odor particles hit your brain, your mouth and pussy watering instantly.

This is wrong.

Disgusting.

Depraved.

And yet—you can’t remember the last time you were this fucking horny.

You don’t even undress properly—just shove your shorts down, kicking them off with your panties as you hurriedly reach into your nightstand.

Got it!

The suction vibrator hums to life in your hand as you collapse back against the pillows, towel pressed over your face.

The second the toy clasps over your clit, a gasp punches out of your chest, your eyes flying open.

Embarrassingly slick and oversensitive, your body reacts like it’s been waiting for this since his hands were on you. Your hips grind into the suction with helpless little thrusts.

The crumpled towel muffles your moans as your brain fills in the blanks—his voice, his hands, his tongue in place of the toy.

His gruff voice berates your thoughts.

Push harder, brat.

Hold it. Take it.

Good fucking girl.

As far as your delusions are concerned the soreness in your muscles isn’t from the workout, but from him folding you over the bench, stretching you open with this hefty cock and working you over until you’re shaking for an entirely different reason. 

Trembling, your hand almost slips as your orgasm builds, causing you to arch into the vibrations.

Engage it! You hear him growl.

And you do—just like he taught you as you bury your face deeper into the towel and flick the button increasing the pulsing suction on your throbbing button.

When you come, it hits you all at once.

A breathless cry tears out of you as your body locks up—pleasure tearing through you. You cling to his scent, hips jerking as you ride the overstimulation until you finally go limp.

Lying there afterward, dazed, sweaty, staring at the ceiling in quiet horror because even through your shame the hard truth is—you want more.

And like an addict after the first hit—you’re already clicking the wand back on.

By morning, to your horror, the scent has already started to fade from the towel and the panic that claws up your throat is immediate.

You know you can’t afford another session... 

But an unhealthy obsession?

That, you can manage.

After that, the gym doesn’t just become part of your routine—it is the routine. You start showing up religiously, like you’re worshipping at the altar of your own filthy fixations.

Well, for your workouts too. But mostly?

You come for him. Sukuna.

Like a fucking weirdo you start watching Sukuna from a distance.

In mirror reflections. From across the floor. From behind machines.

You just… observe—quietly and patiently—drinking him in like a thirst you can’t quite quench.

You never try to make eye contact though, nor dare to try to make conversation. 

Hell no, you’re too terrified of him for that.

Plus Sukuna didn’t seem like the small talk type.

On the rare occasion your eyes do meet in the gym in close passing, you barely manage a stiff and squeaky, “Hi” before darting your eyes away, like you’ve been caught doing something illegal. 

Which, honestly, feels kinda accurate. 

But you weren’t really doing anything bad right? 

You were a gym member. He worked there.

Of course you’d see him. It’s normal.

Super casual. 

Just like you casually timing your workouts to use machines near wherever he is training clients. Hoping to get close enough to maybe, just maybe, catch another whiff of those musky pheromones that rewired your brain chemistry and wrecked your sense of normalcy in a single afternoon.

Your jealousy hits fast when those bubbly influencer girls, all high-ponytails and matching sets, laugh way too loud at things he definitely meant as insults and actually have the nerve to try to cling to his adonis-like form.

The only consolation is they are usually crying by the end and few rebook in return, making Sukuna's regulars mainly men who want him to tear them apart so they can have even a fraction of the physique he does.

Yet man or woman, Sukuna runs them into the ground. He doesn’t care how pretty they are or how hard they flirt or how much they protest.

It doesn’t take long to realize something else, either:

Sukuna’s harder to book than Gojo.

You only got him that day by pure fluke—Yuki was out, and someone canceled.

Sure, Gojo’s the golden boy.  Content king, the face of the gym and the main draw to why people sign up for the ridiculously expensive membership in the first place.

But Gojo’s sessions are all vibes. He jokes, flirts, counts a few reps, and always films a cute reel for your socials—just as long as you make sure to tag him and the gym.

But Sukuna? Sukuna doesn’t even have social media.

You only go to Sukuna if you’re serious. Or masochistic.

Or just plain obsessed.

Like you.

No one leaves his sessions looking camera-ready. They leave wrecked.

And goddamn—that just makes you want him even more.

Once, while leaving the gym, you spot the personal trainer shift schedule—just left out on the front desk.

Plain as day, just sitting there in the open.

You don’t mean to look. You really don’t. 

But the next thing you know, you’re pretending to scan a QR code on a sign advertising the gym app (which you downloaded weeks ago), while sneakily snapping a photo of Sukuna’s hours instead.

You nearly shit yourself when Gojo pops up out of nowhere.

Grinning, smoothie in hand, he starts chatting you up like you didn’t just commit a minor felony.

Panicked, you mumble something about catching your bus—

…while holding your car keys in plain view like a dumbass.

Then you bolt outta there like your name is Usain.

But minor mortification aside, from that day on, your visits become a lot more strategic.

You realize Sukuna comes in at the ass crack of dawn to train before his shift.

So, naturally, you start showing up even earlier—just to watch.

Today’s upper body, apparently.

You find Sukuna posted up at the shoulder press, casually repping weights that are triple your mass. His black tank clings to him, sweat-darkened and stretched across his chest like it’s trying to merge with his skin. You swear it looks just as desperate as you are to be pressed against him.

Getting visibly annoyed at the clingy fabric, Sukuna rips the tank off one-handed, yanking it over his head and tossing it to the floor like it had personally offended him.

You nearly fall off the elliptical at the sight.

His bare chest is on full display now—tatted pecs glistening, thick and meaty, bouncing slightly as he pumps out reps like it’s nothing.

You’re barely moving.

The machine beeps at you, flashing “INACTIVITY DETECTED.”

Chile, you don't even notice.

You’re too busy imagining burying your face in those muscular mounds, tits squishing against your cheeks while he presses you in deep and lets you suffocate in nirvana.

God, you just want to motorboat your face into them until you pass tf out.

Unknowingly, a soft whine slips out of you.

Louder than it should in the mostly empty gym, even with music pumping.

Sukuna’s eyes flick over toward you.

Fuckkkk.

Caught, your neck twinges from how fast you whip your head away. 

You don’t dare look back, but you feel Sukuna watching you. His stare scorches a hole straight through your soul. 

You don’t look anywhere other than the ellipticals display until Gojo’s obnoxiously loud voice calls Sukuna over from the back office, waving encouragingly like he’s summoning a particularly grumpy doberman.

Leaving all his stuff at the machine, there's a distinct growl of annoyance from Sukuna as he rolls his eyes and stomps away.

Alone now, your gaze slides back to the shoulder press machine.

The black leather shines under the overhead lights—drenched, shining like a fucking beacon, soaked through with Sukuna’s delicious man‑sweat.

Practically calling to you like an obscene siren song.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re already in front of the machine.

You’ve never even used it before—but that’s not about to stop you now.

Under the pretense of adjusting the weights, you crouch down and press your nose to the seat where Sukuna had been sitting.

A salty musk clings to the cushion.

Mmm, pungent. It’s so fresh. God, it’s been too long since you’ve smelled him this intensely.

A shudder rips through your spine as you inhale deep, chest stuttering.

Quickly, you glance around, checking to make sure the coast is clear. It is. Then you do something you never would have considered doing just a few weeks ago—you lean forward, tongue peeking out of your drool glossed lips and lick a lingering bead of sweat straight off the backrest.

Oh damn, Oh fuck!

This must be what heaven tastes like.

Suddenly, a door booms open from the back. You hear Gojo’s laughter, in near hysterics as and Sukuna’s grumbling something you can't quite make out.

Startled, you bolt upright, heart slamming into your ribs.

You don’t think, you just know you can’t get caught licking seats like a freakazoid so—you book it.

By the time you stumble into the locker room, panting you notice something in your hand—

—and realize you’re clutching Sukuna’s discarded tank.

It's practically saturated with sweat, beads dripping down onto your sneakers. Biting your lip, you know you just can't walk out there and give it back to him. 

You'd look bonkers.

And worse—you can still feel his warmth in the fabric. 

Shit! Darting into the nearest bathroom stall, you slam the door shut, sitting on the toilet lid as you stare at the dirtied tank in your hands.

You are absolutely fucking disgusting.

And you don’t give a solitary fuck.

Without hesitation, you wring the fabric out over your open mouth, catching the salty drip on your tongue. A moan fumbles from your lips as you lick them, before you stuff the fabric into your mouth and slurp it down glutinously like its holy water. 

From there, it only escalates further.

A few days later, a long sock falls out of Sukuna’s bag in the lobby.

You bend down like you’re tying your shoe and swipe it when no one’s looking. At home, you loop it around your head—hands‑free—covering your nose while you grind against a pillow until your thighs ache.

You steal water bottles.

Sweatbands.

Once, you even snag a pen he’d been chewing on—lift it straight off his clipboard and stuff it into your pocket. Later, you suck on it like it’s his tongue while your fingers work between your legs in the women’s locker‑room showers.

Yeah. You get over the embarrassment of getting off in the private stalls pretty fast.

It goes on like this for weeks. 

No matter how much you take, telling yourself it's the last time. It never is.

It's never enough.

When Sunday rolls around, you show up at 5:30 bright and early—well, not bright exactly. 

The sun isn’t even out yet, but as expected the gym’s a ghost town. 

Just Gojo behind the front desk, humming to himself as he uploads another fitness thirst trap video, sipping an energy drink he definitely doesn’t need.

“Morning, cutie. You’ve been looking good lately,” he calls out as you enter, flashing a devilish grin that throws you off before you’ve even cleared the threshold. “Reconsider any personal training yet? Sorry again about Yuki bailing. But you enjoyed Sukuna, riiiiight?”

You freeze mid-step.

Gojo hasn’t brought up training since that first—and only—session.

He doesn’t know anything… right? So then why bring it up now?

“Ah, um—no, I did,” you stammer. “It… it was great. Amazing, even. B-but like I said, budget is so tight it’s nonexistent.” 

You laugh nervously and Gojo hums like he's thinking something he’s not outright saying. “Mmhmm. Got it.”

Before you can slip past the desk though, he continues: “Oh! We just installed an infrared sauna, you should check it out! No one’s even used it yet, give it a test go for me will ya?”

Gripping your bag tighter, you offer a weak noncommittal smile, eager to get away from Gojo’s amused eyes.

But upon entering the main workout area your mood dips immediately.

No sign of Sukuna.

Goddamn it.

Early Sundays are usually your favorite—You always get a front-row seat to Sukuna’s infamous leg day routine. Full of squats that show off just how dummy thick his ass is.

Still, if you dragged yourself out here, you might as well make it count.

Surprisingly, when you pick up the 25lb dumbbell you used to struggle with, it feels light. Stalking clearly is a workout—your gains speak for themselves.

Usually, your “sessions” don’t last long—mostly an excuse to ogle—but today you grab a towel and decide to hit the new sauna tucked in the back.

You might as well do Gojo the solid, your study group isn’t until noon.

Besides, you’ve never tried the regular Saunas—too self-conscious to sit half-naked next to glossy, influencer types. But the gym’s a ghost town and the new one is down a quiet, empty hall. 

Perfect.

Stripping down in the locker room, you wrap the towel around yourself and head down the corridor.

There’s only one sauna, but a paper sign slapped on the door reads Women’s, so you don’t think twice.

Stepping inside, the noise from the main floor vanishes, sealed off by thick walls. The red glow of infrared lights paints the wooden heatbox in a soft, sultry rouge.

It’s oddly peaceful.

You breathe deep, lowering yourself onto one of the benches. Your limbs still ache from your half-hearted workout, but the heat is a balm. Eyes fluttering shut, you let it melt into your muscles, loosening tension you didn’t even realize you were carrying.

But your mind refuses to settle. Ten minutes, maybe less, go by, and all you can think about is Sukuna.

That wild pink hair. That gruff voice. Those hands. And of course—that stench.

You squirm slightly on the hard wooden bench, warmth pressing in from all sides. The silence thickens around you, humid and still. Your legs part just a little. A hand slips beneath your towel, nudging it up past your hips.

Sure, this is way more public than the showers… But no one’s around. Just Gojo up front—too busy refreshing his comments section to do any actual work.

Relaxing, as soon as your fingers dip into your folds—

Creak.

The door swings open.

Scrambling, you snap your legs shut, crossing them tight. Your hands fold in your lap like you’ve been sitting politely this entire time.

Adrenaline in overdrive, just when you think it can’t get worse—Sukuna steps in.

Shirtless, only in swim trunks, with a towel slung over one shoulder, Sukuna's torso gleams. The visible temperature of the sauna makes him look like a tempting mirage.

Pool? Since when does he swim? Also, you didn’t even realize the gym had one.

Breath stuttering you clutch your towel tighter around you. 

“Um, e-excuse me, M-Mr. S-Sukuna?” you mumble, refusing to meet his eyes, “T-This is the women’s sauna”

Sukuna just looks at you incredulously. 

“Cut that Mister shit out right now brat—tsk, but who the fuck said that?” he huffs, “There’s only one. It’s unisex.”

There’s plenty of room across from you, even on one of the upper levels. But Sukuna sits next to you, the bench creaking under his hefty bulk.

You swallow hard. “Ah, er… b-but the sign—?”

“What sign, you dizzy brat?” he smirks, flashing a single sharp canine.

Scrambling to your feet, you crack the door open and scan the hallway.

You blink at the walls, the floor, the door itself but the sign is nowhere to be seen.

Where the hell did it go!?

“Get your ass back in here and close the damn door,” Sukuna grumbles. “You’re letting all the hot air out.”

You straighten, nearly dropping your towel as you scurry back inside to avoid his wrath. Still mumbling apologies, you hover near the door—until Sukuna throws you a look.

You flinch, then shuffle back to your seat beside him.

Okay, girl, be calm. 

But that's near impossible when you are internally freaking the fuck out.

Your thoughts race to find an excuse to leave. But the moment you turn toward Sukuna to speak, every thought evaporates—unlike the thick sweat beading along his tanned skin, your gaze zeroing in on a drop rolling lazily between his sculpted pecs. 

You’d kill for a taste of that right now.

“You look good,” he finally says, causing you to jump, which only seems to amuse him.

You blink. He means you!?

Well… you suppose you can slip on your thanksgiving dress without a fight now. But you hadn’t really noticed—too busy splitting your time between school, the gym, and gooning yourself stupid over Sukuna.

Somehow, you’ve turned into a regular gym rat.

“You’ve been doing the sets I taught you, yeah?”

You nod quickly.

Sukuna doesn’t respond, his gaze unreadable as silence stretches between you. But you are stuck, frozen like a deer in headlights—fighting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.

Unfortunately for you though, patience has never been a virtue of his.

“Tch.” Sukuna clicks his tongue, clearly fed up. 

“Is that it? That all you’re gonna say for yourself?” His questions are intense as he eyes you down. “Didn’t take a freaky lil’ brat like you to be so damn shy.”

Hello!?

“Um, what—?”

Sukuna’s expression hardens further, his teeth sucking sharply as he leans in.

“Don’t bullshit me, brat. You’re into some kinda perverted stalker shit, right?”

Well…tea but damn, saying it like that makes you sound crazy.

“I—I don’t—what are you talking—”

“Careful.” Sukuna cuts you off with a sneer. “Lying’s not your strong suit.”

He shifts closer, thigh brushing yours, arm on the upper level bench draping behind you.

Dear god, he's so close you can smell him now. 

The scent of his sweat curls around you like a chain, thick and oppressive in the heat, seeping into your pores. 

The same scent that lives in the sock under your pillow. The tank you sleep in. The towel on your nightstand. The water bottle. All the stupid little trophies you stole like a greedy hoarding goblin.

“There are cameras in the gym,” Sukuna says casually—like he’s reciting policy, although his eyes never leave yours. “When my shit started going missing, I checked the footage.”

You would die on the spot right now if that was actually a viable option.

“I saw everything, woman” Sukuna spits, “You’re a fuckin’ freak. You should be locked up.”

Shitshitshit—is he actually going to call the cops!?

The sauna feels a thousand degrees hotter. Your instinct screams run—but you know you wouldn’t make it to the door if he decided to stop you.

“Ha, you know…Gojo called me into the office that day on purpose,” Sukuna adds, clicking his tongue, “He didn’t believe me that a quiet lil thing like you would be such a fuckin' weirdo at first, so he’d thought it’d be funny set a lil trap for ya.”

Your stomach drops… trap? Oh god, that day…

"Tch, a'course you fuckin' fell for it too—just like I knew you would…licked that groadie bench down like a slut."

But Sukuna, is unbothered by your falling apart, not softening his blows.

“You think I didn’t see you sniffing benches?”

“Licking the rim of my shaker bottle?”

“And that sock I dropped?” He snorts. “Wore that shit for five days straight. Smelled like rank ass.”

A broken sound slips out of you—half gasp, half whimper as you bury your face in your knees, trying to scrunch up in the tightest ball possible. 

You can feel Sukuna looming closer though, his aura utterly overwhelming.

“Just admit.” Sukuna’s voice lowers, a bit gentler but not by much.

“You’ve been stealing my shit to flick your slutty little bean for three months straight. Figured you’d own it, now that I’m giving you a chance.”

Peer up at him from your knees, you look puzzled.

A chance??

“You, um… mean you're not mad?”

His grin widens, sharp teeth flashing.

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ pissed,” he says easily. “That some greedy, perverted brat’s too cheap to pay for more sessions, so she creeps on me and steals my shit like a freaked out leprechaun…”

You grip the edge of the bench, ready to run. Out of the sauna. Out of the gym. Out of the goddamn country. Nine months of prepaid membership? You’d flush it down the drain and never look back.

“…but,” Sukuna interrupts your spiral, licking his lips, “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working. Like you’ve got my voice in that nasty little head of yours… telling you what to do.”

He leans in just slightly, voice dropping with heat.

“And that? That gets me hard as fuck.”

Your eyes drop. His shorts are tented—thick, obscene, stretching toward his thigh.

Pulling away from you, Sukuna leans back, spreading his arms along the bench behind you like he owns the place.

“Come here, brat.”

You freeze, just a beat too long—long enough to piss him off and before you know it Sukuna is grabbing you by the scruff of the neck, hauling you into his lap. Your towel slips in the process, falling around your hips. 

But you don’t even notice as his thumb presses beneath your jaw, tilting your face up to focus solely on him.

“Look at me, woman.”

Your throat tightens, holding his gaze, forced and trembling as your palms press flat to his chest and your bare pussy rests on his thick cock, still caged in his shorts—yet you still feel the twitch of it through the material.

The contact hits you like a fever, soaking into your naked body like fire. At long last, you are skin to sin, you imagined this more times in the last few weeks than you can count. 

You can’t help the tremor that ripples through you.

Sukuna’s lip curls.

“So…”

SMACK.

His palm cracks against your ass, the punishing blow, has you biting down on your lip not to scream.

“You like the way I stink, huh, slut?”

Your bottom lip quivers and sick of holding it in, your degeneracy boils over in your admission. 

“Oh fuckfuckfuck… yesss!”

God, that felt good. Like confession—but instead of relief, all it does is stoke the heat rolling through your body. You’re no sinner seeking redemption—you’re reveling in your own depravity.

Sukuna chuckles, pleased at your admission as his grip tightens at the back of your neck, yanking you forward until your face is buried in the thick curve of his raised arm.

Right into his funky pit. The epicenter of everything you’ve been chasing.

“Then get a good whiff, freaky-ass brat.”

And you do. Eyes fluttering shut, you bury your face in the muggy pocket of sweat and inhale—deep, greedy lungfuls that make your pussy clench helplessly around nothing.

Sukuna reeks of unfiltered masculinity. No deodorant. No pretense. Just thick heady pheomones—raw, musky and pungent.

You don’t care that you’re naked. Don’t care that you’re in public.

All you care about is getting more. More of him. More of that addictive stench that’s already rewired your addict brain. 

“That’s it,” Sukuna says, “Just like that. Fucking knew a nasty brat like you’d melt.”

You whimper against his skin, but shame doesn’t stand a chance anymore—choked out by sheer, throbbing need.

This is your sickest fantasy made flesh.

You nuzzle deeper, nosing through the soaked pit, surprised by how smooth the skin is—just a faint dusting of pink fuzz tickling your cheek. The texture alone makes your clit throb.

A needy moan slips from your throat as your hips roll forward on instinct, grinding against the fat stiff ridge straining in his shorts.

Already dizzy and feral, you rut shamelessly—slick soaking through the fabric—like you’ve long since forgotten what the concept of dignity even is.

Sukuna growls, teeth clenched as your soppy cunny smears across his thigh.

“Shiiit,” he grits out, voice rough as gravel. One big hand slips between your legs, fingers sliding languidly through your messy folds, far too composed compared to the frantic buck of your hips.

“You’ve been this wet the whole time?”

He snorts at the pitiful sound you make.

“What—never thought to get your fix straight from the source, huh? Fuckin’ scent junkie?”

You whine, helpless, hips jerking as he pushes a thick finger inside your perverted lil’ pussy.

“Where’s your shame, slut?” Sukuna jeers teasingly, “You want someone to walk in here and see you like this?”

You couldn’t care less.

You could die like this. And die happy.

Eager to show your gratitude your tongue drags wet and slow through the sweaty hollow of his pit, flicking, swirling and sucking at the flesh.

“FUCK—you're filthy.” Sukuna hisses, muscles twitching.

Your tongue swirls more obscenely at his praise—devouring the taste of him like you’ll never get another chance.

Exhaling hard, Sukuna knows if he doesn’t stop you, he’s going to fucking bust soon, just from your vulgar lil’ tongue in his pit and from the feral way you dry hump his cock like a deranged, funk-drunk perv.

“Say, brat?” Sukuna’s tone is laced with something dangerous but you’re too far gone to register, only groaning into his skin.

Sukuna loosens his grip on your neck just slightly to stroke the back of it, deceptively gentle.

“You do your warm-ups today? The ones I showed you?”

“Mmm—ah—” Your mouth breaks from his skin just long enough to mumble a blissed-out, “Always do~!”

“Good,” Sukuna chuckles, shaking his head “This shouldn’t break you then.”

Before you can blink, Sukuna yanks you from his pit.

He manhandles you face-down, ass-up on the bench, forcing your spine into a brutal arch.

There’s a rustle behind you—the sound of fabric hitting the floor.

That’s the only warning you get.

Then he slams in.

One brutal, bottomed-out thrust—balls deep—and the air rips straight from your lungs.

“Ngghh!—F-FUH!”

Your thighs spasm, cunt clenching tight as Sukuna rams straight into your G‑spot, slick pulsing out around his cock and soaking him to the heavy sack.

“Called it,” Sukuna snorts, smacking your ass, watching it ripple. “The crazy ones are always fuckin’ gushers.”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Completely incapacitated, you quiver beneath him—already fucked too dumb by his veiny girth splitting you open. No time to brace. No chance to adjust. 

Just reduced to a shell, a fucktoy for his use—and fuck, it feels sooo good.

“Quit squirmin’, woman,” Sukuna growls, landing another smack—harder this time—making even the cheek he didn’t hit jiggle.

You’re desperate to follow orders—but you barely know where you are anymore. The sauna’s heat blurs your vision, your brain melted by the fire in your core and the way Sukuna’s cock throbs inside you, turning your guts to mush.

“Tsk. Not stable enough—looks like you need a spot.”

Sukuna plants one foot, swinging the other up to plant on the center of your back, pinning you in a shape exactly to his liking. Locked into position at the perfect depth, angle, and tilt to pound into your spongy walls and pound straight into your womb.

“There,” he grunts satisfied, “Perfect fuckin' form.”

The sauna fills with the sound of sloshing flesh. You’re leaking from everywhere—sweat slicking your skin, tits dripping, cunt gushing around his cock. The bench beneath you is drenched, an obscene puddle collecting under your trembling limbs and dripping onto the floor.

It’s messy, it’s vile and it’s the hottest sex you'd ever had,

“Take it,” Sukuna roars. Spreading your ass cheeks wider, he hunches over you, crescent moons digging into your flesh for leverage lest he slips out of your slick cunt entirely.

“That’s it. Fuckin’—tight little thing, *puh*” Sukuna grits, spitting. 

The fat wad of fluids hits the top of your crack, pooling with the sweat dripping off his brow and your own, rolling in rivulets down your back, dribbling down—all messily coalescing in the crack of your ass. The mixture bubbles over your hole as it flutters, struggling to take it in, but Sukuna’s thumbs keep it stretched open, ensuring it does.

Fuck what a filthy sight—it hasn’t even been that long and already his balls are tightening, wanting to explode in your crazy, stalker coochie.

“Look at you,” Sukuna pants, muscles twitching, the sauna’s heat finally catching up to even him. “This is the real training ya needed. Been too long since this freaked-out pussy had a good workout.”

“YESSSSS!” you cry, it feels so good, but it’s all too much. You’re seconds from blacking out.

Your hands claw at the bench, nails leaving streaks in the wood as Sukuna, removes his foot from your back, grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright, putting you in a headlock.

Each brutal thrust snaps your body forward, cheeks stinging with every slap of his hips against your ass.

“Sniff,” he orders. Thrusting harder with each word. “Breathe. It. All. In.”

But his arm's tight around your throat—you can’t breathe.

Everything collapses into sensation: the choke of his hold, his scent pouring over you, the heavy weight of his body pressing down, the wet flick of his tongue in your ear before he bites the shell just to hear you squeal.

“You wanted this,” he mocks, voice ragged. “Earned every inch, creepin’ on me like a filthy lil’ perv.”

The moment his palm smacks your swollen clit, your orgasm detonates.

Bruttally ripping through your body, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice.

You’re sobbing in pleasure, helpless, as Sukuna swears under his breath—but doesn’t slow.

He fucks you through the aftershocks, pussy squeezing him in erratic, wet pulses that has him coming undone.

With a final, guttural grunt, Sukuna’s cockhead presses flush to your cervix, thick, hot ropes of white flood your womb, searing your insides until you’re dazed and seeing galaxies behind your lids. Keeping you pinned in the headlock, Sukuna holds you there until the worst of your spams subside, finally pulling out with a wet, heavy pop.

You’re half-conscious, limp from exertion—but Sukuna isn’t finished.

He lowers you onto your back, spreads your trembling legs, and drops between them to survey the looks of your battered, swollen cunt, still plugged full of his cum.

“You know,” Sukuna smirks, “You’re not the only one into musky shit, slut.”

You shiver as he licks his lips—then dives in, hungrily sucking his own cum out of your pussy, groaning low as the cocktail of scents flood his senses.

You have no idea how much time passes. Surely there’s no cum left—yet Sukuna’s still down there face buried deep like your folds like your pussy juice was the much needed recovery electrolytes his body craved after fucking you into the bench.

If you had the strength, you’d push him away.

But you don’t.

You just lie there, ruined and twitching, as he rips another body racking orgasm out of you.

Click.

Unexpectedly, the sauna door creaks open.

You can barely see now with all the sweat dripping into your eyes—but the voice is unmistakable.

“…Well, well.”

Gojo.

He’s standing in the doorway, a green smoothie in one hand, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Oh,” he says, sipping through his straw. “Thought I heard some suspicious moaning through the vents. Wanted to make sure no one was dying back here.”

Panicked, you try to sit up—but Sukuna doesn’t let you. His arms lock tight around your thighs, dragging your ass back down onto the bench with a scowl.

He doesn't even look at Gojo.

Gojo snickers, lounging in the doorway. “I know I of all people shouldn’t judge but, Sukuna, buddy. The women’s sauna?”

“Unisex,” Sukuna grunts into your cunt. “You labeled it wrong on purpose, dickhead.”

“Guil-ty~,” Gojo sing-songs. “But hey—look at you! Finally got your dick wet in some crazy stalker pussy. I definitely did you a favor.”

“The both of you actually,” he drawls on, swirling the straw of his smoothie like a martini, “I did leave that trainer schedule out on purpose. Didn’t think you’d go full gremlin though, girliepop, but hey—looks like it paid off!”

A pathetic sob escapes you—half humiliation, half pleasure—especially when Sukuna tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you down like a meal that won’t stay still.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna snaps, surfacing just long enough to glare at Gojo’s smug ass. “You’ll scare her off. She’s jumpy enough.”

Gojo merely laughs it off.

“Nah, not this one,” he says, eyes glittering with mischief. “After indulging that freaky lil appetite? You’re the one who should be scared, Kuna~.”

But Sukuna clearly doesn’t give a fuck—he’s already back between your legs, this time sliding his thumb into your ass. 

You jolt, thighs shaking violently, muffling a cry behind your hands as your body bucks against his mouth. Although, given the situation, you still are considering skipping town when all of this is over.

“Well, don’t stop on my account.” Gojo hums. “I’ll throw a cone outside so no one wanders in on your little… aroma therapy session~”

Just before disappearing, Gojo pauses in the doorway, faux-pouting.

“Oh—and next time, you fuck little miss agora hills? Invite me. Or I’m docking your pay for unauthorized client sessions—okay toodles~~!”

Click. The door swings shut behind him.

Sukuna doesn’t even look up.

Tch. Like hell he’s inviting that fruity-smelling bastard.

 all rights reserved. blkkizzat©2023-2026

he’s warm and steady, always touching you like he can’t believe you’re real— pulling you into his lap during movies, hooking a thumb in your waistband just because, pressing absentminded kisses to the top of your head while you cook. he doesn’t flinch at your mess. he doesn’t make you feel like too much.

and right now, his mouth is on yours. hot and slow and a little bit greedy, like he’s trying to drink you in.

“y’so pretty,” he murmurs, thumb stroking over your cheek. “always get all shy when i say that, huh?”

you whimper a little, curling your fingers in his shirt as he kisses you deeper. his hands settle at your waist, warm and familiar, fingertips digging just enough to make you squirm.

you’re grinding against him before you realize. soft and slow, just chasing a little friction— until you tense.

you pull back, blinking up at him, suddenly self-conscious. “…wait. toji- i- i forgot to say…”

his brow lifts lazily. “what’s wrong, baby?”

“i’m…” your face burns. “i’m on my period.”

he blinks.

“like, right now,” you add quickly. “i’m sorry, i didn’t wanna get you messy or anything, i just- i didn’t think we’d be doing this tonight, and i didn’t wanna gross you out—”

“woah, hey.” his voice is soft. his hand comes up to cup your face. “you think that’s gonna scare me off?”

you hesitate. “i mean… most guys usually—”

“yeah, well, they’re not me.” he leans in again, presses a kiss to your jaw. “i’m a grown-ass man, sweetheart. little blood’s not gonna kill me.”

your chest tugs. your throat goes tight. and toji— your stupid perfect boyfriend— smiles like he can see right through you.

“c’mere,” he murmurs, easing you back against the mattress. “lemme take care of you.”

he kisses down your body slow. takes his time with it. your shirt gets tugged up and your shorts get peeled off, and when he gets to your panties, he pauses, his gaze heavy on the small patch of red staining the fabric.

he groans.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re still so fuckin’ cute like this. pretty little pussy all sensitive, beggin’ to be touched…”

you let out a shaky breath. “won’t it be… messy?”

he grins, flashing teeth. “that’s the point, baby. wanna ruin you.”

and he does.

he eats you out with feral hunger, tongue slow and thorough, like he’s savoring every flick and drag. doesn’t care about the blood. doesn’t even hesitate. just moans against your cunt like it’s his favorite meal, thick fingers spreading you open so he can suck on your clit just the way you like.

you’re shaking when you cum. legs trembling, thighs clamped around his head, a wet mess already soaking the sheets— but he doesn’t stop. just kisses his way back up your body, pressing his cock against your thigh, hot and hard and leaking.

“you good, princess?” he breathes, dragging his tip through your folds. “need me to stop?”

“no,” you gasp. “fuck, toji, i need you, please—”

he slides in slow, thick cock stretching you open inch by inch until you’re arching into him with a soft cry. it doesn’t hurt, shockingly. your cramps are fading. your body’s warm and wet and buzzing, and you can feel everything.

and god, he’s being so gentle.

his pace is slow but deep, every thrust hitting that sweet spot perfectly, his voice all breathy praise and filthy sweetness.

“look at you takin’ me so well… fuck, baby, feels so good around me like this…”

“s’cause it’s you,” you whisper, eyes glassy. “only you…”

he kisses you like a promise. presses your legs up so he can get deeper, one big hand resting on your belly to feel the way you clench. every movement so careful, so attuned to you. and when you cum again, whining his name and tugging at his shoulders, he moans right back into your mouth and spills inside with a shudder.

you both stay there for a while. breathing each other in.

“…was that okay?” you ask softly, lips brushing his.

“that was perfect,” he murmurs. “you’re perfect.”

then, after a pause— he smirks.

“also kinda hot, not gonna lie. might need to fuck you like this more often.”

you giggle. and he kisses you again.

geto smiles, unfolding his legs and gesturing for you to sit. “of course."

you climb into his lap a little clumsily, settling sideways against his thigh instead of squarely on top of him. your arms snake around his shoulders as you bury your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep whiffs of him through your runny, wet nose. you feel warmer than usual, he thought.

now in his lap, you relax a little–your ears seemingly perk up and your tail slowly regains its usual wag. He is amused by your instant change in attitude and presses a chaste kiss to your temple, letting you melt into his chest before resuming back to the article on his phone.

it's not long before you start to shift. he hardly notices, giving you another gentle kiss, but then he feels it again, and again, and again. he almost thought you were trying to get comfortable, but he could feel a rhythm to your movements: your hips slide back before slowly stuttering forward, smushing his thighs right along your clit with heated, breathy pants spilt across his jugular.

ah.

poor thing.

it doesn't take long for him to understand what you're doing, and suddenly your skirmish behavior all morning begins to make sense. his eyes narrow as he hears a small moan escape, almost as if you were taunting him. another owner would’ve pushed you off then and there and scolded you for being so perverted, and if they were feeling particularly mean, they'd've dragged you over their knee by the scruff and taught you a lesson for it. 

but geto does neither.

instead, he settles his hand just above your tailbone, gently guiding your unskillful hips with his heavy palm.

his other hand abandons his phone for your cotton shorts. geto fidgets with the flimsy material, pointedly ignoring your gasps. Slowly, he pulls the damp lining aside, expecting to find thoroughly soaked panties underneath, only to discover you hadn’t even bothered wearing any. he snorts softly at that, at your tenacity, but you're too busy chasing the delicious stimulation at your nub to even care about what mr. geto thinks. your fingers twist their way into his shirt while you drool stupidly over the fabric until it's transparent, letting out breathy little "s-sugu's" with every desperate hump against his thigh.

with his musky scent clouding your head and heavy hands on your body, it's not long before your legs start to thump wildly against his own. The soft little whimpers you’d been trying to hide so hard before are now dissolved into helpless, pitchy moans. geto hooks his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face up, taking in your adorable blissed-out face before pulling you into a kiss. 

geto’s mouth is greedy and coaxing, forcing its way around your pliant tongue as he shares his spit until it's dribbling down your chin. every time you try to break away for air, he follows, keeping your lips pressed to his as if he was trying to punish you by stealing the very oxygen from your lungs. 

beneath him your tail lashes back and forth across his legs and your hips begin sloppy and sloppier–he knows all too well you're going to cum. geto imagines the way you must feel right now, your aching cunt clenching around nothing, the tipsy, drowsy feeling in your head as he kisses your breath away. He thinks how salty bubbles swell at your eyelashes while a weak chant of “suguru…suguru” is spilled across his skin. 

so he stops.

his hand tightens at your hip, stopping you cold. the strength catches you off guard, but there's nothing you can do but grind in vain as you’re forced to feel your hard-earned orgasm ebb away into nothing more than a faint burning sensation at your clit. you let out a long, disappointed sob into his mouth, until he finally lets you break away, wiping salvia off your face with the back of your hand.

you want to start crying. you were so close to giving yourself a release, so so close after days of suffering through your heat, days of suguru refusing to touch you like you've begged. but before you can start the tears, suguru pulls you back by the scruff to face him.

“puppy.” geto started.

he holds you firmly in place, his fingers pressing into your side just to remind you who allowed this in the first place. His face is unsettlingly calm and his tone even. If he notices your tears, he chooses to ignore them.

"easy. none of that." he scolds, giving your cheek a feather-light pat. "greedy doesn't look pretty on you."

You open your mouth to protest, but he gives you such a stern glare that you forget what you were even going to say.

“I know this feels bad right now,” he murmurs, voice maddeningly calm. “but I'm trying to teach you a lesson." before you can speak, he lifts you up from your scruff, placing you on his other leg with humiliating ease. Then, he grabs you jaw tightly, forcing you to look upon the dark spot you’ve left on his sweats "see this, pretty? you've got to learn to control yourself." 

the stain is huge and impossible to miss, and your face starts to ache with embarrassment. you were so lost in your pleasure you hadn't even realized the mess you'd made on him—you’ve never seen a more sorry shade of grey. 

“spoiled puppies who can’t control themselves make such a mess,” he sighs, almost wistfully. “you were doing so well, too.”

“but-"

his other hand quickly slips into your pants. you buck into them instinctively, only for him to reprimand you with a quick pussy-slap. ignoring your whines, he swabs your slick across his lanky fingers, before pulling them back out for you both to admire. "you’ll get it eventually,” he says matter-of-factly, pressing his fingers to your lips. “even if it means neglecting this precious hole for a while.” 

“after all, all good puppies learn to sit still.”

The head of the Law Department. Also PhD with Distinction. The man with dark circles and even darker suits, all prim and poised as he waded through the hallways with his stacks of documents—of course, Nanami was one for suits, as well. 

They really brought out his broad shoulders- at least, that’s what you told him.

Another reason why he needs the coffee.

Fuck. 

Nanami attempts to even out his breathing as he looks up. “Hiromi.”

If Higuruma thought anything of Nanami’s startled reaction, he makes no indication. Instead he holds up a slim file in his hand, “Are you free? Could you help me with looking over this essay?”

“Of course.” 

They were the only two in the staff room right now, besides- anything to take his mind off of you.

Nanami adjusts the gold-rimmed glasses on his face before he takes the file from him. Flipping it open to find a jumble of justice and law jargon that his history-inclined brain balks at—“I never thought you’d want a history professor’s opinion on an essay about…” He squints at the title, “-the scope of judicial power and judicial review. Does this have any names of 14th century shoguns that you need me to check?”

“No- no.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face, though Nanami gets the impression that it wasn’t for him. Rather it was for whatever ravaged at the man inside- making him look up at the ceiling with a hollow sigh—“Man, I need some coffee today.”

“Understandable.” Nanami pushes his glasses up.

“The machine’s broken, right?”

“Right.”

Higuruma only lets out another sigh that Nanami relates to well.

“If it helps, Dean Yaga said it’d be fixed by tomorrow.” Nanami attempts- he never was the type of sociable guy some of the other professors were. But he gets the feeling that Higuruma was the same.

He runs a hand down his face one last time- “That’s too late, I have tutoring this evening with…” And how Nanami Kento related to that, as well. Before he seems to shake himself out of it- somewhat. “It’s alright, could you just check the grammatical and citation stuff for me?”

“Of course.” As Higuruma leans against the partition and waits, the other professor skims through the writing. It wasn’t half bad, to be quite honest, and had it been for his own class then he would’ve given it an A—none too many mistakes except for the odd careless error. At least it was human-made. 

After a while of silence, Nanami’s partway through the conclusion when he asks. “Did you happen to get tired of looking through so many essays?”

“No, it’s just…” The dark-haired man sighs once more- for about the twelfth time since he came in. “-this student, you know?”

Nanami nods—he did know. “Trouble student?”

“Not quite.” He almost gulps.

Nanami narrows his eyes. “Doesn’t attend?”

“No, she attends every class.”

“Then what?” He leans back in his chair, essay forgotten now. “The legacy kid? The credit-chaser? The class clown that isn’t actually funny?”

Higuruma cuts through them all with a fierce shake of his head. “No, no, and no—” Almost gulping. “It’s just that this student is a little…distracting.”

The tips of his ears were red.

Instantly, Higuruma looks like he regrets it.

“F-forget I said anything-”

He does.

But Nanami looks squarely at the other man.

“I have a student like that, too.”

The law professor looks at him in wary interest. “Oh?”

“My star student, actually.” Pushing his glasses up, he opens up one of his cabinets and pulls out a thick, paper-stuffed file. And though Nanami Kento does collect his students’ work for the semester to review, he never does keep them quite so close - none other than yours.

Higuruma looks through them with slightly widened eyes. “All hers?”

Nanami nods, “So diligent that it’s almost distracting.”

Higuruma pulls out an empty chair beside Nanami and sits. Legs spread. Dark eyes thoughtful. “Mine, too.” He starts—“Never have I had a student ask for so many hours of extra tutoring.”

“Mine’s basically set up a tent in my office.” Nanami chuckles- though he can’t deny the slight pang it sends down to his cock. “Always taking on more assignments for extra credit, always answering questions first-”

“Always first in class and last to leave?”

“Exactly.” Nanami agrees. And he leans a hand on his desk as he watches the other man go through those papers - they were some of his most prized possessions, he feared to admit. Words from your heart. Swooping slashes of ink from your hands.

It was a part of you in those papers that Nanami Kento held dear to him- fuck, it was a part of you that sometimes he’d bring up to his greedy nose and sniff. Almost as if he could feel your skin through these very parchments.

It made him so fuckin’ hard.

But Higuruma didn’t need to know that.

Though the careful manner in which he handled those papers - how he leaned in just a little to drown in the ink - made him wonder…

“Always wearing the skimpiest skirt to class?”

And the other man looks up in shock- as though conveying something in his silence. Oh.

He flips the file over to look at the name typed-out on the cover, and it reads—yours. Ultimately, he continues—“A-always sittin’ in the front row with her legs spread just a bit?”

Nanami nods. “Always leaning over the desk when she has to speak in private.”

There’s a slight hardening within Higuruma’s eyes - though not of any unpleasant kind - it’s almost as if something deep and carnal was stirring awake right now. “Always wearing the prettiest black lace underneath?”

“She wears baby pink for me.” Nanami can’t help but smile.

“Fuck.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face again- and if Nanami didn’t know any better then he would’ve sworn that the other professor looked even more weary than when he first came in here. “And her panties-”

“Matching set.” Nanami responds without missing a beat - and he knows he’s some ol’ pervert for this. 

He knows he is. 

But he also knows about the smile that’d spread across your face the moment you’d realized he’d seen. “Bent over too low when picking her pen up one class.”

“Fucking—fuck.” Higuruma sounds agonized.

Nanami leans back in his chair, making it bounce a little bit. With a slightly breathless sigh leaving him, and his cock hardening even more in his pants–he’s forced to manspread under the table a little more. “She’s a needy lil’ thing, isn’t she?”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Higuruma’s lips quirk up into a sensual smile - as if he was reminiscing on the memories. “Wanting to fuck her professors? Seriously?”

“Believe she’s thought of both of us at the same time?”

“Don’t even say that-” The law professor looks around, even though there was no one else here. Looking back at the man with somewhat pleading eyes, “I have tutoring with her this evening. If I can’t even fucking grade her essay without getting a hard-on then what d’you think will happen if I’m thinking of that—?”

“Oh…” Nanami hums to himself, hands lacing in front of him. The coffee-machine really was broken. “-maybe that won’t be an issue.”

Higuruma glances at him with furrowed brows, “How so?”

“What time is your tutoring with her?”

“You mean…”

The blond man shrugs coyly- “I’m not implying anything…but which one of us two do you think is her favorite?”

“And people think you’re the gentleman of us two.” Higuruma grumbles but ultimately spits out the time. It seems you’d opted for tuition classes with your law professor in the after-hours—when the offices were snug, and the department was empty. And he feels his cock perk up at the fact- how many times has he raced back home to plunge into a cold bath after your tuition classes? How many times has his shower heard your name whispered? “I’m most definitely the favorite, by the way-”

So lost in his thought, Nanami nearly doesn’t catch the sentence. He looks over at Higuruma. “Does she call you ‘sir’, too?”

“She does.”

“Well, then we’ll find out, won’t we?”

.

.

.

The two hottest professors on campus.

Higuruma Hiromi (38) with his sleek-cut suits, his polished shoes, and those sleepy eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of your soul. The depths of your body - exposed underneath him. He was a stern teacher, not afraid to make you do an assignment over and over and over again…(and you gladly would). Higuruma’s justice classes made you…wet you had to admit, hearing him bark out simulations of court cases. Orders. Commands. 

You could practically hear a sigh echo out across the room every time he acted out his attorney days. 

Every time he banged his gavel down made your knees weak.

It was no wonder that students in the law department tittered n’ scattered any time the ruggedly handsome professor walked past. 

On the other hand was your history professor. 

Nanami Kento (31) with his beefier build, his strong arms, his gentle eyes—twinkling down kindly upon you every time he corrected a mistake. Which - you have to confess - you’ve made a few more times than you really had to, just to feel his molten gaze upon you again and again. He often caused your heart (and something else entirely) to flutter at the deep musicality of his voice, managing to make even the most boring of history passages something interesting. Something that swept the class up easily.

Nanami was reputed around campus for being a complete gentleman - never looking down upon someone, never letting them walk in after him, never letting them pay him a compliment without receiving a sweet one back. 

The dream husband.

The stern and the nice.

Both of them- frat guys hated them.

It hadn’t been intentional to join both their classes- honest! 

But after seeing them on your first day, how could you not commit to maintaining a spotless attendance? You had a sneaking suspicion that the rest of the class behaved in the same manner for much the same reason - though none took it quite as far as you.

The skirts. The extra credit. The bending.

Speaking honestly, you were a teacher’s pet. Through and through.

And the tightness in their pants whenever you left a class told you- they were the best professors. To you, that is.

Which is why you’d been a little less than happy when Professor Higuruma had told you that someone might be joining your weekly tutoring. 

Invigilated tutoring? 

What the hell was invigilated tutoring?!

You admit that you’d been forced to hold back a groan of disappointment. Picking such late hours had been a conscious decision—right up there with those tight pencil skirts that you knew your law professor loved but would never admit to.

Professor Nanami was more the type to like free, flirty pleats that barely reached your thigh - and you loved the way his eyes would follow them behind those glasses of his. Even though he pretended they didn’t.

And right now you were wearing a mix of both.

Tight on top, flared at the bottom

Seated opposite his desk - thighs shut, skirt pulled down as low as it would go - more concentrated than you’d ever been during one of these tutoring sessions. It’s been about half an hour since the start of today’s tuition. Higuruma’s office was a cosy space, decked out in the most expensive-looking mahogany banisters, and shelves, and a witness box in the far corner.

It gleamed at the light—down knowingly at you, almost as if waiting for you to make a move.

But how could you? If there was a potential visitor, then you didn’t want to risk Higuruma’s job- as much as you loved teasing your two hot professors, it wouldn’t do to get them fired!

So you kept your hands and your skirts to yourself.

And even Higuruma himself had his eyes raised, possibly wondering why you hadn’t leaned over his desk or lingered a touch at his shoulder for help.

But oh, how you wanted to…

The professor looks down at his watch, “He’s late.”

You’re glancing at the closed door, “Maybe the invigilator isn’t coming?”

“Oh, he will.” Higuruma crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Trust me, he won’t miss this.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

You wondered what made him so sure.

And yet, you edge closer over the desk to him anyways.

It’s about forty-five minutes into your tutoring session when the door you’ve been sneaking glimpses of this entire time- clicks! And a looming figure walks into the room, his figure nearly taking up the whole frame.

Your jaw drops as you realize—

It’s Professor Nanami.

“Ah- Kento.” Higuruma beckons him over warmly- and you’re nearly suffering from whiplash from watching the two interact. These two are close?! Professor Nanami had been completely normal during your last class, if just a little more distracted than usual - and what was this? “We’ve been waiting.”

He looks at you as he says this.

“I had to penalize a student for missing a few assignments.” Nanami says smoothly, before bringing up a chair beside you and taking his seat. His movements were fluid and precise - as if he wasn’t questioning for a single moment why you were here so late, why you were dressed like that for him, and why you were so damn close.

You’d been staring into his handsome face for so long that he clears his throat. “Continue.”

“S-sir?” You’re chirping- and in your peripheral vision, Higuruma shuffles in his chair.

“Continue.” Nanami repeats in a stern tone. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like that—“Just as you are. I would like to take notes for teaching my own classes.”

“You heard what he said.” Higuruma nods- and now you’re looking his way to see the most knowing smile on his face. “Continue, angel.”

Your thighs squeeze at the pet name.

Nanami quirks a blond brow and notes something down.

And so you’re ducking back into your work—

“Your blouse button is undone.” 

Slightly gasping, you’re reaching down to fix it-

“No, don’t button it.” He interrupts you with his low tone, gravelly with something you can’t pinpoint. You’re looking up at Nanami to find his gaze unwavering from you already- “I was merely noting it. Nothing to fix.”

“But-”

“You unbutton it for my class, too, don’t you?” He asks, and you’re unsure what to say-

“Answer when your teacher speaks to you.” Higuruma’s humming tone echoes—and from the sound of it, he was thoroughly enjoying this. He cocks his head down at you, “Or haven’t they taught you that yet?”

“Th-they have.” You’re squirming in your seat, a slight heat simmering in your stomach. You turn to Nanami, “And I do.”

“Hm.” With nothing more said- he writes something else down in his notes.

And you think you’re in the clear.

For now.

It’s barely a few sentences later on your work that Nanami speaks up again-

“Your feet are touching his.”

You pull away-

“You’ve been writing the same sentence over and over.”

Your hand pauses-

“Your thighs are parted more so than before.”

Immediately, you’re smacking them back shut again- you hadn’t even realized. And how the hell had Nanami even seen?

And you could practically hear the smug smile in his voice - so unlike everything you know of him - as he continues. “And your bra is peeking out.”

“Never seen one before?” You mutter underneath your breath, just about to fix your collar (that you’d very purposefully left open)—

Before Nanami’s voice cuts through again. “Never seen one of yours in black before, is what.” Even as you’re looking at him in slight sensual shock- he doesn’t look up from his papers. “What happened to the baby pink you show-off in my class?”

And Higuruma merely leans back and smiles. “Black is my favorite color, remember?”

“How could I forget?” The history professor answers.

“Though I myself am curious about this baby pink of yours…”

And you have nothing else to do but gape- they knew. 

Oh, how they both knew by now.

And by the looks in their eyes, they’d been dying for this very moment.

To confront how you’d been toying n’ teasing them all semester through now- enough so that they’ve apparently begun trading secrets about their unruly star student. You knew that Higuruma tended to have his ears grow hot and red any time he bumped into you in the hallway, and that Nanami would loosen his tie as if undressing whenever you wore a particularly scandalous thing to class - but you hadn’t known they’d been pushed…to this extent.

And you were glad for it.

So you sigh—slouching back in your chair. “So you both know. What now then? Do I get written up or something?”

But Nanami only looks at you through his glasses. “Sit up straight.”

He’s never uttered a command like that in his entire life during your usual lectures. And when you don’t move - merely looking at the blond man with raised brows - Higuruma pipes up. “You best listen to him now, angel.”

“Oh please.” Fluttering your lashes at them both. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Higuruma looks at Nanami.

Nanami calmly puts his notes down on the other’s table, and looks at you.

“Why-” He pushes his glasses up his handsome nosebridge. “-teach you a lesson, of course.”

“Both of you?” You could feel the elated giggles bubbling up in your throat- and you could feel the space between your legs start to grow wetter already. Looking between both of them—“Do it then.”

And then it’s a blur - you don’t know where Higuruma’s lips end and yours begin. He’s reached over the surface of his desk to kiss you like a starved man- and he groooans into that very kiss like you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hand on your cheek. 

The tips of his canines start nibblin’ on your lower lip- and you’re kissing him back even deeper. “Shit-” Higuruma’s husky tone scorches across your face, “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do this for so fucking long.”

“Mmm, you kiss like husband material.” You’re giggling into the kiss. Both of your hands end up on his shoulders, and you could feel the shifting of his muscles through his slim suit. 

“Shit- and you talk like trouble.” He echoes out in an almost pained tone- like every second that his lips were away from yours ached. 

And those plump, pursed lips press against yours once more—so much sweeter than you would have expected this booming lawyer to kiss. He’s using the hand on your cheek to tilt down your chin- “May I?” Before the short nod you give lets him slither his tongue in wetly, lappin’ at your sweetest taste. “Shit, you’re really like sugar on my tongue.”

And you’re whining into the fervent kiss, letting it go on for a few more minutes before you’re breaking away with the most lecherous plop! And a thoroughly flushed professor chasing after your lips drunkenly-

“And what about you…” You’re kissing down Higuruma’s sharp jawline, looking at the other man who’d been sitting quietly this entire time. “-sir? Haven’t you wanted to kiss me even once this semester?”

Nanami shivers but he hides it well. Uncrossing his legs and revealing the most rock-hard, aching bulge between his legs—“Kiss? Perhaps.”

And you’re gulping at the sight.

Higuruma scoffs out a slight burst of laughter. “Perhaps.”

“But I’m a gentleman, my love.” Nanami continues, leaning back in that luxurious armchair. He takes off his coat to reveal a pale blue button-up, and beneath that was revealed the most chiselled body you’ve ever seen. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and beckons towards you. Manspread. Lap so welcoming. “Which means I’ve thought of far, far worse.”

Higuruma - with a final sloppy kiss plastered across your mouth - lets you walk over to Nanami.

Which you do on wobbly legs- plopping down unceremoniously on his lap. More than enough space there for you. He wastes no time bending you into shape in his strong arms, flipping you around to face the other man, and spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open-

Riiiiiip—!

“Whoops.” Nanami’s thoroughly unapologetic tone gruffs against the shell of your ear. Two of his vein-covered forearms were hooked underneath your elbows, and Nanami looks on boredly at the clean split down your skirt—“I always thought you’d look better without these anyway.”

Before he’s spreading your legs even further across his lap. Tearing it even more.

Exposing you for nothing but your tremblin’ legs and those drenched panties. Pretty black in color. 

So lacy that it was practically nothing.

Higuruma’s eyes widen, “Dirty girl.”

Nanami breathes, “No, that’s called being a slut.” And shock runs through your body at his words- at Nanami ‘Gentleman’ Kento’s words. Before it’s suddenly overtaken by the sudden feeling of him smearin’ aside your panties and stuffin’ his fingers inside.

Those thick crowns dooooown to the golden ring on his middle finger.

They were long and thick. Swirling and swirling the tip of his digit right ‘round your clit- and when you’re shuddering and unable to take it any longer—he pulls away and licks off that excess slick with a slurp!

Humming to himself as though it was the greatest delicacy in the world. “One thing you should know about me, darling, is that just because I’m gentleman-” And you’d been so caught up in his ragged tone, you didn’t even realize that he’d snaked his hand back down between your legs. “-doesn’t mean that I’m not depraved.”

And he’s ending off the sentence not with a full stop- no, but with a sudden shove of his fingertips between your folds. So swollen n’ sweet with slick.

You buck and he lurches his hand out to slap you on top of your pussylips.

“Down, darling.”

“Please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for.

But Nanami’s mouth waters already at the sound of it, and he’s keeping it at bay by pushing n’ pulling on the first ring of muscle at your cunt. “I said down.”

Head throwing back against his collarbone. “Oh.”

Fucking you with just the first inches of his fingers- “It doesn’t mean that m’not desperate.” Continuing as though your eyes weren’t bulging, as though your legs weren’t shaking, as though you weren’t arching off of his muscular chest. “It doesn’t mean that m’not ready to debase this pussy like she deserves.”

“Y-you mean—” You’re hiccuping, eyes starting to water at the sheer raw stretch. It was the type that left your pussy burning in the most delicious way - the feeling of having Nanami Kento’s scourin’ fingertips eager to enter your cunt. “-that whole gentleman thing was just a lie?”

“It’s not.” He responds. Final. His blond strands fall over his forehead as he keeps his eyes locked on your glistening hole, scissoring his fingers at that entrance n’ spreading you even wider. “I’m nice…”

Adding in a third finger before you’re even registering his second.

“-to everyone but this slutty pussy, that is.”

“Sh-shit—” Mewling at the top of your lungs, you’re clawing down Nanami’s strong forearms. They were the perfect thing to hold onto- just about the only thing you could hold onto as he utterly ruined your pussy with short, jerking thrusts.

Bulging the sides of your velvety walls open with his globular tips.

Cold metal ring shocking you.

So thick that he manages to probe into a few of your sensitive spots without even trying. Dragging his flexible fingers across every inch of you.

Scissoring and opening up and scissoring—deep.

Tears track down your cheeks at the sheer stimulation.

“Go easy on her, Kento.” Higuruma can’t help but groan at the sight of your pretty crying face. And soon enough, you’re hearing the metallic clinking of a belt buckle- “Don’t want to break our star student, now, do we?”

Nanami purrs against your temple. “Mmm, I don’t mind.”

“Just remember that she’s tutoring with me.”

The sound of Higuruma’s belt hitting the polished wooden floorboards is enough to make your eyes startle open- and oh, how you’re so glad it did.

Because then you’re greeted with the sight before you: of Higuruma Hiromi in utter ecstasy. All because of you.

He’d taken your seat from prior, chair angled perfectly to face the show taking place in front of him. 

Where Nanami had your legs spread aaaaaall the way as far as they would go - until Nanami could hear your joints threatening to pop - and facing the dark-haired man. His dark eyes glinted as they stared down at your glistening hole, swallowing Nanami’s rams easily.

Slurps n’ squelches emanating like music. 

Cunt dripping everywhere over the history teacher’s tight trousers. And the larger that puddle you were forming seemed to grow, the harder Nanami’s hammerin’ pace seemed to become. 

You could barely keep your eyes open long enough to see Higuruma tug down his black pants- that throbbing erection of his making an appearance. He wraps his hands around his thickened base and starts tugging, soft grunts leaving his mouth at the rapid pull-pull-pull of his cock. “Shit, she’s so fucking wet- be a little nicer with that pussy o’ hers, would you?”

“Hmmm…I don’t think she deserves it.” And with that said, Nanami plants yet another sodden spank on top of your cunt. Ring grazing your front- “She hasn’t learned her lesson yet, has she?”

That stinging sensation zaps throughout your entire body and makes you buck. “I-I have—”

Before yet another thwack! of Nanami’s calloused fingertips follow.

Harder, this time.

“I was talking to this pussy, actually.” 

And he doesn’t even wait for the primal sting to pass by before openin’ your cunt up and thrusting his fingers inside again. In and out.

Push after push into your gooey depths.

You’re so sensitive n’ wet by this point that even the slightest movements have you emanating out the loudest sounds. Squelches upon squelches—every time he’s hitting a spot deep inside your hole. “Mhmm…mmmhm.” You could feel Nanami’s head slightly nodding above your own, as if locked deeply in a conversation with your pussy’s sounds. Just one whine of yours and he’s spankin’ on you once more- “Wait your turn, my love. She’s talking t’me.”

And Higuruma- ah, Higuruma has the audacity to snicker at the action. “Now that’s just bullying, Kento.”

“Is it?” He’s slappin’ down on your pussylips once more. Listening for the sound, “She says it isn’t so.”

You’re sending a narrowed glare his way that makes the law professor roll his eyes fondly.

“Oh, alright alright-” And he half-heartedly waves off at his colleague. “Be a little nicer to my dear student, won’t you?”

“Spoiled brat.” Yet another spank. Nanami sinks his canines into the shell of your ear, and he’s tuggin’ and teasing—he’s spreading his legs even further and settling you down. With your back against his rippling chest, he pushes and pushes his greedy fingers inside your pussy. “And why do you think you- hah, deserve that, huh? Haven’t you been fucking torturing us all semester long now?”

Higuruma groans. “Can’t deny that, angel.” His hands fly even faster up and down his cock- ravaged and reddened with need. 

“Mhmmmm.” The blond-haired man agrees, “Haven’t you been wearing those slutty skirts expecting to get fucked in them? Haven’t you- fuck, haven’t you been wearing that damn lingerie hoping we’d take a peak? Aren’t I right?”

He waits for your pussy to answer first- and then you’re answering. “I-I mean-” Attempting to.

“Haven’t you been bendin’ over and shit just because you wanted to show up in our wildest dreams? To consume our thoughts and make our cocks twitch?”

“Well-”

“And we did.” Higuruma pipes up next. He was so needy that he was practically bucking off of his chair, making it creak with movement. Short, jerky thrusts.

“Oh, yes we did.” Nanami continues. He leans down to your ear, as if exposing a secret- “I’d look forward to our classes everyday, my love. I’d have to fuck my fist raw before class- just so I wouldn’t fuck you senseless in front of everyone like how you were begging me to.”

Higuruma moans as he thumbs down the line of his flared tip - that pinkish, slippery line. He twitches as though he’s near to cumming already. “Me- me, too…”

“And you still expect me to be a gentleman?”

You’re restless, opening your mouth to defend yourself and—

Nanami only leans down and spits a glittery wad of spit between your pursed lips. “Don’t talk when the teacher’s talking, darling.” 

And your ears pop with pressure-

He’s hittin’ the plushness of his palm against your pussy with a loud smack! Smearing the curves n’ divots of his fingers dooooooown and up your walls, down and up.

His crown fingertips reach for your deepest innards- and you swear you can feel him stroking your very cervix. Runnin’ his frigid ring across your walls.

Drawing a few lines and marking his placement right back there, before he tunnels his digits at a frenzied pace - fingers almost nothing but a pale blur between your legs. His speed is so feverish that it leaves your sheen tricklin’ all down your thighs.

Trickling and trickling and—

And then you feel Nanami hook his fingers against your g-spot.

The pleasure shoots up your body like a lightning strike, “O-oh my god—right there, Kento.”

“Kento? Who’s Kento?” Nanami doesn’t even falter his fingering to answer, cooing in that tone that you’d almost mistake for something sweet. “I think you meant sir-”

“S—fuck.”

“Say it.” He huffs against the side of your face. Teeth almost out for blood- “Say it. Call me ‘sir’ or you don’t get to cum.”

“I—”

“Say it.” Higuruma, to your surprise, echoes from his seat. Where he had his gaze burning into your spread-open pussy n’ his mouth drooling at the vision of you—“Say it, angel. I need to see that pretty pussy cum.” Hands rubbing faster and faster- 

“She deserves to cum, mhm.” Nanami nods. “But do you, huh?”

“I-I do.” You’re nodding up at your desperate professors. One just barely in your line of vision- but his fingers were working up such a storm. His slightly-tanned arms pinning you down, working your pussy open, hitting that target of your g-spot like a cute button. Again and again—

Blond hair ruffled. Glasses slipping down his sweaty nosebridge.

And then the other one that was just creamin’ his precum down his hands. With his hands on his swollen erection - one of them creating a tunnel for him to fuck his fist, the other flattening over his dribblin’ divot to stop from cumming already. 

Sleepy eyes half-lidded. His pale thighs shivering as they bucked n’ rutted.

And the vision itself is enough to make you cum- but then again it just felt so good on Nanami’s hands, and underneath Higuruma’s gaze. So you can’t help but let your lips wobble open—“P-please let me cum-” Stars bursting behind your vision once Nanami presses down on your clit as well. “-sirs.”

The two older men look at each other.

“Sirs?” Higuruma asks, voice breathless with ecstasy.

“She just begged for both of us.” Nanami grumbles out - though not quite unhappily. It made his cock twitch deep in his pants to have you whimperin’ like this, and he continues. “Alright then, you slutty pussy.”

And it takes only a few more strokes - a few more direct thrashes along your g-spot - for you to hurtle straight into your high.

It’s so strong that you’re seeing white behind your eyelids—and your mouth blabbers out an unintelligible combination of both professors’ names. Toes curling. Sweat beading down your temple.

Nanami holds you down as you’re thrown through wave upon wave of your orgasm, your hips bucking up and down desperately. Riding throughout your bliss- and if that wasn’t already enough, he counts underneath his breath to measure how long it takes between your peaks of euphoria. Before hittin’ away at your g-spot just in time with each one.

The sensations that take you over are just incredible.

And your head falls back limply against Nanami’s shoulder.

Shivering. Almost as if you were in heat- and your pretty pussy gushes out honeyed slick as though to give credit to that statement.

Lavishing Nanami’s open thighs with all your sap—Higuruma eyes the mess and gulps. “Kento, give me a taste of that.”

Nanami scoffs. “In due time.”

“Kento, I need her pussy on my face now.”

Slowly but surely, you’re fluttering your eyes open at the feeling of being shuffled around - only seeing the beautiful, brown eyes of Higuruma Hiromi staring down at you. When did he get so close?

“Hiromi?” You’re blubbering out stupidly, still suffering from the aftershocks of your previous high. Those zapping bursts of electricity made your thighs twitch sensitively- “I mean- sir?”

Higuruma shivers, “You trained her well, Kento.”

“Mhmmm—” Nanami noses down the column of your throat proudly.

“Maybe now it’s time for a reward then, huh?”

You’re perking up. “Yes, please.”

Nanami snickers. “You spoil her.”

And in almost no time, you’re finding yourself handed off to the law professor - Nanami stands up and gets off of the armchair. While Higuruma takes his place- 

At least, that’s what you think is going to happen.

But what ends up happening instead is that Higuruma seats you down on the chair, letting your barely-clothed pussy rub up against the cushion. Something in his eyes gleams at the way you’re squirming, and he speaks to you in a gentle tone. “Can you turn around and hold the headrest f’me, angel? Be a good girl f’me?”

“A-alright?” Confused, you’re just doing what he says. He meant that you had to turn and climb your knees onto the seat, ass turned towards the professors, back slightly arched.

“Mmm, good.” Higuruma admires the view. “Arch that back just a little more f’me now, alright?”

“Like this?” 

And still not sure what he was about to do, you can only follow his commands. It almost feels like a doggy position- and you hold onto the wooden headrest for dear life.

“Mhmmm.”

And Nanami’s the first to mutter to himself, “Don’t tell me you’re…” He takes in the sight of you - with your front resting against the backrest of the chair. You have your spine bent, your ass cheeks displayed for them, your cunt not quite on the seat—“Hiromi, you dirty dog.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Steadily, Higuruma’s kneeling on the floor. 

There’s no warning before he then shoves his face nose-deep into your cunt- straight from behind. 

Higuruma grabs onto either side of your ass cheeks, his prominent nose curvin’ up the slit of your pussy. He’s using his grip on you to draaaag you further down onto his face—“Mhmmm—spread those legs.”

He’s muttering.

He’s spitting- stern lips pursing and letting out a rivulet of saliva.

It strikes vertically down your cunt before Higuruma’s running his fat tongue over it. Smearing around the mess he’s made- but most importantly, smearing around the mess that you’ve made.

You’re whining as Higuruma’s textured tastebuds seem to take over your pussy. All the way from the plumpness of your folds, and then dipping between them to tease your hole- you’re still so sensitive from the massage that Nanami’s fingers had simmered into you. And you’re trembling your thighs further open, “P-please- fuck-”

“I’m a lawyer so I’m really good with my tongue, y’know?” Higuruma pants out, scorching hot against your needy pussy. “But that means my fees are high, too-”

“A-and what are your fees?” You’re sobbing out.

“Mmmm…” He takes the time to think—and by that, you mean that he rovers his mouth over where your clit was throb-throb-throbbing. The law professor takes his sweet time spreadin’ open your pussylips with his tongue, before letting his tongue flop out n’ draaaaaag down your clit-

And his next words are so lecherously muffled. “Ride my nose raw, sugar.”

You gasp.

In the background, you can hear a gruff bout of laughter that notably doesn’t belong to Higuruma.

You grip onto the headrest of the chair harder than ever- because in a split-second, Higuruma’s thumbin’ your folds open and stuffing your hole all full of his tongue. 

So loooong and slick- curving right against the roof of your pussy. It makes you jolt to feel his honed, flexible tip zig-zagging its way down your channel—mazing and mazing inside that it’s as though his wet muscle was never-ending.

Higuruma Hiromi was damn ravenous.

He feels your knees start to slip away from him- and he claws his fingers deep into the globes of your ass cheeks to pull you back. Uncaring if you’re whining for mercy- “A-aren’t you supposed to be the nice one, sir?”

“Spoiled.” Nanami’s voice echoes from the distance.

“Mmm- keep calling me that, yeah?” Groans wrenching from the back of his throat at the mere sound of that title being said in your pretty voice. How nice it was to make you beg. “And no—”

“No?”

“I am being nice by letting you ride my nose, aren’t I?” His head jerks just a little upwards to look at you- and Higuruma can just barely make out the shock on your face. “I know how much you’ve wanted to ride it-”

“Hiromi-”

“Ever since ya fuckin’ met me, huh?” His rough tone vibrates through every vessel of your body- pushed even further by the constant swabbin’ he was doing inside. Swab after swab. “Ever since ya first saw me- don’t think I didn’t see how you stared at me.”

You’re clawing further up the headrest. “B-but how did you know-”

“Oh, angel…” Higuruma almost chuckles. Something dark and depraved- “If I was wrong then you wouldn’t be so fucking wet- I can barely breathe.”

Both of his roughened palms plaster around your thighs. Draaaagging you bodily - as though you were nothing against him - to glue your pussylips to his own lips.

He makes out with your pussy like a man parched.

“And I don’t need to.”

Your vision blurs with pleasure as Higuruma spreads your folds perfectly apart- and starts rammin’ his tongue into you wildly. Thick and thirsty for the taste of your sweet, sweet juices—any time that even a mere droplet of your sap starts to drip down your thighs- you can best believe that Higuruma was whipping his head down to slurp it up. “Harder.”

“I-I am-”

“Faster.”

“Fuck-”

“Raw, I said raw.”

Practically addicted to it. 

He’s pussydrunk in with just a few sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. And you yourself can feel your pupils start to circle inside the whites of your eyes.

Spreading yourself even further on the chair to meet his utterly ravenous mouth-

“Didn’t forget about me now, did you?”

Nanami Kento sounds the closest he’s been since he had you on his fingers- which could feel like minutes, hours, days ago by now. It takes you significant effort to blink away the clingy film of tears on your eyes, and you’re opening them to find that he was actually…standing right in front of you.

Nanami had rounded the side of the armchair - and if you looked up, there his handsome face was. So now you have your law professor at your behind, and your history professor’s crotch in front of your face. His pants much too tight. 

His cock thick and throbbing underneath there.

Clasping onto the headrest of the chair, if you raised your head juuuuust a little then you’d be able to mouth over the twitching erection he hid underneath there. “K-Kento?”

Nanami looks down at you through his gold-rimmed glasses. Grinning at your teary expression, “Only a few minutes with your nice teacher n’ you’ve already forgotten your manners, my love?” His hand falls to his formal pants, “Guess we have to go back to lesson one.”

“O-oh…”

Nanami had already unbuckled his belt and lets it drop to the floor—clink! Followed right along with the popping of his buttons, it doesn’t take too long before you’re face-to-face with his rock-hard bulge. Achingly hard. Almost painfully hard.

Barely held together by his boxers, he seeps out such volumes of precum that it creates a dark patch on the silken fabric. It glistens just a bit under the dim lighting of the office- something that makes you gulp.

And something that makes Higuruma nudge his tongue even deeper inside of you- shit, you could feel yourself growing more aroused. And he could taste it.

“Did you know she gets sweeter n’ sweeter the wetter she gets?” Higuruma slurs from in-between your legs, latching onto your clit with a loud squelch! “And you won’t believe it…but right now she tastes like the tastiest strawberry candy- heh.”

“Is that so?” Nanami’s nose crinkles as he looks down at you. He’s admiring that drunken expression on your face for a little bit, before reaching his right hand down and clasping at the back of your head. “Filthy girl.” 

You shiver. “C-can’t help it-”

“Ah ah—not another word out of you.” The blond-haired man continues. His grip tightens- “I expect you not to speak when your professor is speaking-”

Cocking his head just a little, Nanami takes a glance at the famished way that Higuruma was kissin’ between your legs. Gasping. Gulping.

He had his mouth gaped wide open and was dragging it across every inch of your pussy that he could reach- sticking that long tongue of his between your pussylips. You’re almost sandwiching his tastebuds for a bit before he manages to flicker his tastebuds inside again—then in and out, in and out, in and out.

Faster than before.

Reeling back out to slap! your pussy with the flat surface of his tongue.

Then probin’ back in again.

Higuruma’s just being so loud-

“-and when this pussy is speaking.” The rest of the history professor’s sentence makes you gasp - brain so muddled that you’d almost forgotten what he was saying. Almost forgotten that he has a firm grip on your sweaty scalp—one that he’d now turned into two hands upon your sweaty scalp.

Tugging your head forwards as if you were nothing but a ragdoll to smush your face against his boiling hot erection. 

Your jaw falls open and soon enough, you’re salivating all over his clothed cock. 

Tongue lavishing across the cotton of his boxers- feeling every ridge n’ vein along his shaft. 

He groans at the feeling of your heated mouth, and his fingers dig into your scalp even deeper. Tugging. Needing. One set of your fingers reach upwards to fumble its hem, and you take Nanami’s round, reddened tip into his mouth.

Moaning at the large size of him.

Moaning at the salty taste that floods your mouth-

“Hey now…” Higuruma’s choked-up tone echoes from behind. You’re feeling his tender fingers start to pull your hips back onto his face, “-don’t steal my star student away.”

“Have you forgotten that she’s my star student, too?”

“Her pussy’s on my mouth right now- so who’s in charge?”

“Well, let’s ask how she feels about it…” Nanami’s voice trails off—and only too late are you realizing that he isn’t talking about your pussy this time. He’s talking about you- waiting for your answer.

And you’re attempting to muffle out something, letting the globular edge of his cock swirl around your mouth a few times. Around and around. Just the crown of his mushroom tip prods into your every orifice inside- you’re opening your mouth to answer when Nanami jerks his hips forwards.

Fucking his cock deeeeep into your maw.

And with it, whatever words were in your throat, too. 

“I dunno about that-” Nanami hums down at the chokes n’ strangled gasps you’re letting out, just the barest noises of whatever was able to filter past his swollen shaft. “-but it sounded like a ‘you, sir’ to me.”

“Didn’t know you were that depraved.” Higuruma spits out. Dark eyes narrowed as he’s grinding you back to him n’ lapping away at your oversensitive pussylips.

“I’m a gentleman, what can I say?” The other professor responds.

As the slurps n’ sucking continues, Nanami looks at you through half-lidded eyes. He admires the way your mouth leaves a glittering glaze of spit from the tip of his cock and doooown to about halfway down his shaft—so cute how you couldn’t fit it all. “And as Head of your pussy-” Fuck, when did he even assign himself that? Is he pussydrunk already? “-I say you can’t cum until you’re fitting my cock aaaaaall the way…”

The history professor’s left hand lifts off of your scalp. Then dragging down the front of your throat - down, down, down. 

“-here.”

He points to a spot way past the back of your throat.

He fucks your mouth like he’s agonized every second he isn’t reaching for it.

Higuruma growls.

And thereafter it’s almost like a tug-of-war - on one end you’re being hauled forwards by Nanami’s grip on the back of your head. His hands strong and unwavering, no matter much you’re gasping for air- fuck, the ever-gentlemanly Nanami Kento was gone for the feeling of your mouth tightening around his hot cock.

Rutting those toned hips up into your velvety cavern like an animal-

“Just a little more.” That left hand of his wraps around your throat now, his thumb markin’ at the spots where he can feel his rounded tip probing inside. “Just a liiiiittle more now- about four inches? Heh.”

“Mmm—” Your eyes go wide in surprise.

And Nanami responds by pushing his hips even further, nearing the tip of your nose to those curls of blond at his base. “C’mon, c’mon.”

And on the other end, Higuruma had his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs. Into the flesh of your ass. His tongue fishing around your insides before he pulls out and starts nibblin’ on your damn clit—

He’s thirsty. Depraved.

“Noooo, angel.” He’s gluing his chin to the front of your pussylips. Head moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as the law professor lashes his tongue across. “Come back to me-”

“Mmm—” You’re being pulled off of Nanami Kento’s reddened, dribblin’ cock with a plop! Just from the sheer pressure of Higuruma manhandling your body from the other side - dragging you all down his handsome face. “Fuh-fuck-!”

“Where’d you think you’re going?” Only for Nanami to barely let you breathe for a split-second before he’s pulling your mouth down his shaft again.

Shovelling a gooooood few inches of his vein-covered cock inside- he marks that spot out on your throat. Even deeper than the last time you had him- “Mmm, not bad. Just a few inches- mmm, more.”

“Ride my nose.” Higuruma begs from the other end. Breath breezing down your gooey core, it makes your thighs shiver- “Ride my nose, I don’t care. Ride my nose, ride my nose—” 

And you’re just so overstimulated from all ends.

From the draaagging of Nanami’s thumb down the front of your neck, from the sensual touch of Higuruma’s nose being sandwiched between your pussylips, from the pleasure of them both playing with your body. It’s as if you’re their favorite toy to taste, to fuck - to worship because of the way they were being driven to absolute madness by those carnal sensations. 

You can only jolt your body back and forth.

Down Nanami’s cock. Up Higuruma’s ready face.

Riding his nose just like you wanted- “S-so—” Somehow barely managing to gurgle out past the pulsating tip of his cock, “So close-”

“Close?” Higuruma perks up. “Fuh-fuck- I have you, angel.”

“Remember- no cumming until you take it here.” Nanami presses his thumb somewhere near where your voicebox was bulging with the intrusion of his inches. “You’re not there yet, darling…”

“But-”

“Please let her cum.” But to your surprise, it’s your law professor who is pleading your face. 

Nanami raises a blond brow, “Oh?”

“Let her-” He slurps away on your swollen nub- sensitive and throbbing. He’s hollowing his cheeks out to get that suctioning sensation, already making your knees feel weak with pleasure. “Need her to- fuck, want her to cum on my tongue. Let her cum already.”

Nanami thrusts even deeper, “Hmm…I dunno.”

“I’m the one asking you.” Higuruma grumbles. “Let her cum-”

“Mmmpf- please.” And your brows furrow as the pit of bliss in your stomach grows stronger.

“Let her-” The law professor continues, “I’m begging you- fuck, she’s becoming so sweet. Let her cum-”

Pale brows furrowing. Sweat lines down his temple- “I don’t…just fit-” And he’s scrapin’ his bulbous tip down the roof of your cunt—all the way along to the back of your throat and targeting even further. “If she takes it until-”

Higuruma’s nose helping your grinds and bounces. “Just let her cum-”

“If she takes it-”

“Fucking let her-”

“G-gonna—” It’s the last thing you’re managing to get out before a sudden slam! of Nanami’s hips shut you up- and before you know it, you’re feeling the carnal scratch of his pubic hair. The feeling of his tawny curls at your skin, the intrusion of his throbbing shaft all the way down your throat.

And his thumb tapping where he’d marked a treasure spot - a spot he was supposed to meet. Nanami doesn’t have to say a single thing for Higuruma to bite his sharp canines down on your clit.

And before you know it, you’re bursting into your nth high of the night. 

Not just your second, but your third, perhaps even your fourth.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, and your moans are nothing but soft crackles at the back of your throat. Higuruma draaaaags you all throughout those waves of bliss, elongating them with the thorough lavishing of his tongue. 

Probin’ into every sweet spot.

Inside and out.

He digs his fingers into your thighs, now accomplishing his dream of having you ride his nose. Because you’re being made to arch your back n’ bounce your hips lecherously up and across.

Hittin’ those best angles- the peaks of your high absolutely burst through you. 

And Nanami? Your history professor was enjoying the view - cocking his head to the side and smiling as you shatter on Higuruma’s face. He watches about half your orgasm bate, before starting to fuck his swollen cock back in and out of you. Thrusting. 

“Now now—” Nanami murmurs. “You should be thankful my rubric’s so generous this time.”

You can only look up at him with your teary eyes.

That sight is enough for him to bite down on his lower lip n’ stop himself from cumming. No, he had something more important in his mind…

“Thirty seconds to finish up.” He says meanly. “Before I either drag your pussy off of his face or you have to drag yourself off, m’kay?”

“Tch- stingy.” Higuruma keeps lappin’ at you even after your high has passed. 

And once that thirty seconds of more bliss have passed - just like Nanami said - he grips both hands ‘round the back of your scalp and wrenches you off of his cock. Off of Higuruma’s mouth. He’s bending down to spit straight between your lips—

“Now, I’m gonna be nice this one time because you took all of me. Understood?” The history professor states, so firm. “Nod if you understand, my love.”

You nod.

“Good.” He then kisses your lips- tasting you, tasting himself. “Now…do you want it from the back or face-to-face? Because m’fucking you filthy either way.”

“From- from the back.” You pant out.

And Nanami gives a single, stern nod before he lets you go. “Brace yourself.”

You’re collapsing back into the chair—sitting your ass down on it this time. Before the law professor suddenly has you in his arms - he supports you in getting off of the armchair and standing up. Now in the middle of his office, you’re stumbling onto your wobbly feet.

Your arms loop around Higuruma’s neck. “Hiromi…”

“Mmm, I love it when you call me that.” Higuruma kisses you.

“How unruly.” Both of you snap your heads at the sound of buttons popping- only to find that Nanami was taking off his button-up. And you were right- fuck, you were so right. He was so thoroughly chiselled underneath, almost Herculean in nature.

With the most naturally defined ridges n’ curves of his muscles—his firm pectorals, his washboard abs, his meaty thighs that make an appearance.

Nanami sheds of all his clothes before he stares down the two of you- “Addressing your professor by name? Clearly going against objectives to get ready? Making me jealous? What an undisciplined class, no need to be standing around.” He looks at you, “I’ll be fucking you until you can’t stand, anyway.”

A shiver runs down your spine—“Oh.”

“Now, darling.”

Higuruma lets you waddle away to Nanami- who merely swivels you around and bends you over the edge of his colleague’s desk. Papers and ink flying everywhere across the office as he does.

Folding you forwards until your head hits the table. Kneeing your legs apart.

It’s hitting you like a truck - your history professor is about to fuck you against your law professor’s desk.

“Stay still.” He gravels in your ear.

Nanami’s barely letting you take a breath before rubbin’ his bulbous tip down your dripping wet slit from behind. Hand gripping his thick hilt—up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Getting his inches coated in a glaze of your sap, Nanami hums at the feeling of you attempting to contract around him.

“This naughty girl’s reeeeal needy for me, huh?” Scorching breath heating up your skin, he kisses down your arched spine. “She says she can take all of me- can you?”

“Y-yes—” You’re sobbing into the polished mahogany. Bucking your hips up, “I want it, sir.”

You’re jolting as his puckered, pinkish tip smooches at your wet entrance- he’s just so thick that he can plug your hole up easily. Nanami’s tip throbs against your hole, and he reaches a right hand down to feel your pretty stomach - to feel where he’s going to be hittin’ with his hungry cock. 

He breathes out airily—“You want it?”

“Yes-”

“Say please.”

“Please-”

“Hmmm?”

“Please, sir.”

Nanami lurches his hips back, back, backwards- “As you wish then, teacher’s pet.”

And then you’re being stuffed with an inch or two of him.

And by stuffed—you were seriously stuffed. 

Thick and thorough. Almost too big to even fit in - Nanami fills out the orifice of your cunt without even trying. His ruby-red tip just manages to squeeze between your pussylips, before the first ring of muscle at your entrance makes him falter.

And he’s gritting his teeth at the sheer tightness, voice coming out as nothing but a hiss. “Fuck- didn’t you say that you can take it?” He’s pressing his left hand down at the base of your spine, leaning his weight in to keep you still. “Come back, my love- class isn’t over yet.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d been clawing at the desk until now. “S-sir—”

Just that is enough to make Nanami’s ravaged tip twitch inside of you- spurting out a few more dollops of pre. “Yes, darling?”

“I d-don’t—” Fuck- you swear you could feel him grow even harder inside of you at the sight of your teary expression. Staring at your history professor over your shoulder, “I don’t know if it even can fit.”

“Awww, my poor baby.” And you should know better than to let Nanami Kento hush your cries, you should know better than to let him lull you. 

But you can’t help but get pulled into his big, strong arms anyway.

“My poor, poor baby.” And from one corner of the room, you could hear Higuruma’s distant laugh. Although you don’t have the time to wonder what it means, because Nanami’s continuing- “None of those boys ever taught you how to take a real cock, hm?” 

And you can only nod. 

“None of those boys have ever fucked you right, hm?”

Nodding once more.

“Don’t you worry, darling. If you can’t take this one…”

He presses a chaste peck against your hairline. Letting his soft breath waft over the crown of your head, and his chest ripple with his words, soft. 

“-m’gonna make it fit.”

And that’s the last thing you’re hearing before Nanami’s rammin’ his swollen, aching cock into you like an animal- his furious cockhead burrowing in deep. 

He manages to shovel just a few more inches inside, before the snugness of your channel acts up once more. Leaving him barely even able to reel his hips backwards—just that much of a tight fit that’s making his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

He shakes.

His groan cracks at the back of his throat. “O-oh.” Both of Nanami’s hands fly to the sides of your hips, and his fingers fucking shake where he holds you. “Oh, yeah.”

“Shit-” You’re flinching at the scalding sensation of his breath. Gusting.

And even that mere shiver- Nanami catches onto it. And it’s only making him clasp your body even tighter, pulling you into him—“You’re really not getting away until we make it fit, my love. Good luck.”

No matter how much his ravenous hips are rutting n’ bucking and trying oh-so-desperately to hammer even more of his inches inside- he can only fuck you in short, needy half-thrusts. The rest of him left to throb wildly behind you, he keeps on stretching and stretching your insides just to fit inside.

Each one of his bucks so desperate. So greedy.

The pointed tip of Nanami’s cockhead prods away at your innards as though he’s trying to claim every single ounce of space inside you- 

“Have you forgotten that this is a joint class, Kento?”

Higuruma’s voice is enough to send pulses of adrenaline flowing through your body - and you’re just managing to look around Nanami’s toned frame. The law professor stands behind the two of you with his arms crossed, clothes mostly on except for his trousers being tugged down.

He held his blushin’ cock in one hand, pumping furiously at the sight of his star student. 

Nanami himself sighs—though he doesn’t stop his sloppy scouring of your innards for a single second. He looks straight at the other man as he asks- “Oh yes…would you like her now or after me, Hiromi?”

“Now.” Higuruma narrows his heady eyes at the two of you. And the blond-haired man slightly growls at his answer, seemingly grappling with the thought of leaving your pretty pussy right about now- “But don’t pull out.”

You feel like you’re experiencing whiplash. “What?”

Nanami only raises a sharp brow.

And Higuruma himself can’t help but crack a sleazy smirk-

Before you know it, he’s rounding the two of you. Coat off. White button-up flapping open.

He tugs on the smooth, black tie that was hanging haphazardly from his neck- and gestures something indiscernible at the other man.

Though, clearly both professors understood.

Because one second you’re slouched on top of Higuruma’s desk, droolin’ stupidly over some important documents as Nanami Kento pounds you into oblivion - and in the next second, he’s lifting you off of it.

Cleanly off the desk.

One hand wrapped around your waist, the other putting you in a headlock.

He pulls you up as though you’re nothing- and you’re ogling the way his biceps bulge around your throat. Feeling the cushy firmness of his strength—“W-what are you-”

“D’you know what a standing full nelson is?” Higuruma asks. And for a second you think he’s asking you - maybe this was some strange sort of quiz - but then Nanami nods.

“Thought that only happens in fiction? Don’t tell me you’re a secret freak, Hiromi?” He scoffs, though he pulls out either way. 

“And look who’s talking…” Then Higuruma looks at you and taps his shoulders. “Hold on, angel, he’s going to lift you.”

“Shit…” 

As expected, you’re holding onto Higuruma’s broad shoulders for leverage- whilst Nanami bends and loops his hands around your legs. His strong forearms where your knees were. 

Scooping you up into his arms.

Holding them up.

Holding you up.

Hoverin’ well over six feet in the air.

Yelping, you’re digging your nails into the law professor’s shoulders - but if it hurt, then he doesn’t’ react to the pain. Honestly, you don’t even think he could feel it right now—because Higuruma was holding out his tie.

Measuring it against your face-

Tying it around your face like a blindfold.

He knots it at the back of your head, and suddenly the room is curtained in nothing but pure black. You could only hear the gruffness of both men’s chuckles, and Higuruma asking. “Everything alright, angel?”

“Of course, it is.” Nanami mutters- almost to himself. Though he does stretch your legs a little wider, presumably to show to the other man—“Look how fucking drenched she is.”

“Good girl.”

“Naughty, you mean.”

“I must beg to differ.”

And you’re arching against Nanami’s toned front, the plushness of his abs digging against your back. It was the most sensual massage you’ve felt in your entire life- “Please- ngh, what’s with the blindfold?”

“Oh, that…” Higuruma starts. “Guess.”

“What?”

“Guess.”

Brains wracking- “You aren’t going to leave me hanging, are you?”

“No.”

“Is this a roleplay?”

“No.”

“A kink thing?”

“Well…”

“A BDSM thing?”

“Guess.”

You’re feeling helplessness wash over you—“B-but, I already did-”

“No, my love.” Nanami’s the one to speak up this time. He leans down so that he’s pressing an innocent kiss to the edge of your hairline, “We’re going to make this slutty pussy guess which one of us she’s being fucked by.”

Your jaw drops.

And your cunt grows even wetter.

An occasion that the two professors are watching with awe-

Higuruma in particular finds himself breathing out—“And your time starts…now.”

And then you’re hearing the shuffling of his trousers- right before a sudden proddin’ intrusion starts up at your entrance. It was hot and throbbing—so needy that your teeth are set on edge by the sheer volume of precum that he was emptying out.

You’re feeling his thick tip start to eeeease in- squeezing in past the tightness of your channel for a bit before pulling back and fucking you ruthlessly in semi-thrusts.

“H-Hiromi?” You guess. Surely, with him being the one that was removing his trousers it must be…

“Wrong.” Nanami grins.

And then you’re feeling his cock give you a few vicious pumps before he’s pulling away - leaving you all empty and yearning for more. Your glistening hole clenches a few times around nothing, before a sudden globular tip starts kissin’ your entrance once more.

You’re bucking back in Nanami’s arms in an attempt to figure out just who it might be- but the history professor holds onto you firmly. Not a single inch.

Not a single inch less.

Whoever was fucking you takes no more time before swabbin’ his swollen erection inside once more- biting back a groooan at the feeling of your tightening walls.

It’s the same short, jerky thrusts from before just to fit in. 

“Sir?” You’re gasping out. But surely, it can’t be twice in a row…“No wait- is it Hiromi this time?”

The cadence of his hips stops abruptly. “Can’t get enough of the law, can you?”

Nanami.

And you don’t know whether it’s the fact that you’re just feeling your brain melt at the sheer stimulation between your legs, you don’t know whether it’s the fact that both handsome men had you sandwiched between their muscular bodies—it was just driving you wild. Making you stupid.

A line of drool slicks down the side of your mouth, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate before leaning in and lickin’ it off. “I should punish you for this.”

“I-I—oh, fuck.” Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue get swallowed up by the feeling of yet another round, ruddied cockhead pushing inwards. Pulsing. Prying apart your walls. And you’re noticing that this one is slightly slimmer than the last, more pointed, more honed, more of its curvaceous tip that tilts to the left.

It makes you shiver at the feeling of his bawling divot dragging across your walls so perfectly. “Is this- sir-”

“Try again, angel.”

It was a struggle to piece your thoughts together, and Higuruma’s voice is the only thing that makes you realize-

“Hiromi.”

“Mhmmm—” Before you know it, the other man has one hand dipping between your jittery legs. His fingers easily locate your clit to tug n’ pry like the cutest gummy - how sweet. And he’s timing it to the constant probes of his looooong, smooth cock. “Good girl. A++ for that.”

“You’re quite the generous grader.” Nanami scoffs. “I would have given that a B.”

“What can I say? I do have a soft spot for her…” Higuruma’s cock was slightly lengthier than Nanami’s, you’re noticing - though not quite as thick. And with less veins that didn’t massage your inner orifices as much, but made it soooo much easier for him to slip even deeper.

Especially with this position, he manages to probe his cockhead further past where Nanami’s thicker one was able to fit.

Reaching almost for your throat with his blushing, frenzied tip- Higuruma gives a final roll over your clit before he’s pulling out. Letting a few ribbons of sap gush down your legs after him-

Ones that are being fucked right back up with a second length.

Thicker. Harder.

Throbbing so much that you swear you can count them all the way at the top of your head- Nanami’s shaft was next. And he’s lavishing your entrance with so much attention—draaaaagging his vein-decorated shaft in and out. In and out. In and out.

“S-so?” He rasps out from behind. Higuruma’s cockhead had mazed open your insides just a bit more, and Nanami struggles not to let his voice tremble. “Which one of us, darling?”

“Y-you—”

That earns you a bite on the shell of your ear. “No.”

Before he’s pulling back out.

And your breath catches- “Wait- I meant sir. It’s you, sir—”

“Too late for that now.”

“Awww, come now.” Higuruma coos as well. “How are we supposed to make an example out of our star student if she just keeps makin’ mistakes?”

“I think she’s gettin’ lazy now, huh?” The other man responds. And now both of their ruddied cockheads were droolin’ all over your entrance- mixing with the sweetened syrup that was already dripping out of you and creating such a mess. “Maybe she doesn’t deserve our cocks at all?”

“Don’t say that—” You could feel your law professor’s eyes turn to you. “You deserve it- hah, don’t you, angel?”

Shivering at the feeling of both cocks sandwiching between your pussylips. Now that they’d both pulled out- it’s as if they were fighting over who can be next. Rubbin’ and teasing. “I do—” Your voice cracks on that last note, “P-please, I do-”

“I’m still not convinced.”

Higuruma continues, “Promise us you’ll be a good girl? That you’ll listen to what your professors have to say?”

“I will I will-”

“Promise us that no more of that teasin’ stuff in class?” His prominent nose slides down the column of your throat, breathing in your essence. “None of that bending over?”

“Yes—” But you could already hear the question in your throat - and it seems that they could, too.

And it makes Nanami gruffs out. “Because - forgive us - but you do realize that it’s not just us seeing your little…display, darling?” He spreads open your legs even wider, and Higuruma’s ministrations grow even more frenzied on your clit. Squeezing. Pinching. Flicking.

And you’re restless- “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean to say that there are others more…undeserving that see those legs of yours, those panties, those tits.” There’s a sharp edge to his words—“Those boys in class can’t take their eyes off of you.”

“We can’t either, of course.” Higuruma responds. Squeezing his cock inside- “But at least that little performance of yours is meant for us, right?”

“Don’t like the way they look at you.” Nanami’s also squeezing his cock inside now - both of them bullying your hole at once. Creating a stretch that makes your vision go white- so much carnal stimulation that your entire body wracks with shakes. “Don’t like the way they turn to look. Don’t like the way they have to mysteriously…disappear into the bathrooms any time you do your little show.”

“Given…we do the same.” The law professor continues—“Because fuck- how fuckin’ pretty you look all dressed up in silk. Makes it hard not to cream my pants everytime I see you- but none of those boys have the balls to back that admiration up.”

Giving you a thorough slam—both of them.

Higuruma’s the one to continue, “But we do.”

“Because I rub my cock raw to you, my love.” Nanami ends off, holding you close to him. “N’ none of those boys could ever fuck you like we do.”

“Yes, p-please—” And you’re pushed between both of their sculptured fronts. Unable to see them- but you could feel the ridges and curves of their muscles, the way they were both leaning in as though they couldn’t get enough of you. “I only want…ngh.”

One of your arms wrap around Higuruma’s neck, and the other reaches behind you to attempt to clasp onto Nanami’s.

“Just want the two of you…”

“Hmmm…” Nanami’s cock twitches at your gooey entrance- “A+”

And then they’re alternating between fucking you—

“Hiromi.” You’re gasping at the intrusion of his smoothened tip, the velvety texture of him reaching for so many spots inside you but most importantly- that g-spot. 

And then he’s pulling back out.

“Sir- fuck, Professor Kento.” Nanami swabs his thickened tip inside and hits that precise spot. Although he decides to take it a few steps further this time and dig his rounded tip into the very back of your pussy, bottoming-out. “Shit shit shit—”

Thrust after thrust.

Pulling out. Shovelling back in.

Making you guess just which one of your two older professors were takin’ over your pussy right now- it made your head dizzy just trying to keep track. Bounced up and down in their arms.

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi.”

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi—” Before your voice shatters at the feeling of…two thickened lengths attempting to fit inside. Fighting against the resistance for a few sloppy strokes before they’re siiiiiiiiiiiinking in- “And Professor K-Kento, sir…” The feeling of their large, slick-glazed cocks were just incredible - rubbin’ against your walls and one another. Like nothing earlier.

It was a stretch like you’ve never felt before, hittin’ spots that you didn’t even know you had.

And both professors held onto your shaking body tight- they shovelled their lengths in and out of you. Two blushin’ cockheads heading for your g-spot, before their slide-slide-sliiiiiding all the way down to end up at your cervix.

Stretching apart your walls.

Making your channel bulge.

Letting the curves of their mushroomy tips drag apart your walls, n’ press into the sweetest spots of your nerves. Both of their heavy ballsacks smack-smack the front of your cunt right on time with their thrusts. Thrust after thrust.

Again and again.

Nanami grunts at the sensation of Higuruma deep inside you, “F-fuck…”

“You can say that again.” Higuruma himself replies. 

By now, the jostlin’ about had meant that your blindfold was falling off- and you could see the two men upon either side of you. Shovelling their hot cocks deep inside your pussy, positively ravaging you.

The law professor’s fingers weren’t letting up on your clit just yet, either. 

He quirks his digits just a bit to draw a little heart upon it—and soon enough you find yourself throwing your head back with a moan. “G-gonna-”

“Shhhh—” Nanami grins. His ears keenly listen to the noises from between your legs - they were just so much louder now that you had two thickened shafts ramming into you. “This pussy says she’s gonna cum soon, darling.”

“Y-you little-” 

A harsh hammerin’ on your spongy cervix. “Pardon, my love?”

“Nothing—oh.” Even their thrusting styles were different - Nanami Kento with his thorough, solid slashes as though he was trying to reach your womb every single time. And Higuruma Hiromi with slightly slower, smoother glides of his cock - soothing through the nooks n’ crannies that Nanami had activated first.

It was the perfect combination.

Naughty and nice.

Though not exactly in the way you’d initially thought.

And perhaps this manner was what was making you so desperate to cum again- “Please-” Gasping. “Let me cum—”

You’re looking between a grinning Nanami and Higuruma. Dazedly.

“Please may I-” Choking out in-between the moans and droplets of saliva that were gushing out of you- falling onto Higuruma’s puffed-out chest. “-cum, sirs?”

Both of their rock-hard cocks twitch deep inside of you.

And you’re briefly seeing a silent conversation pass between them-

“Go ahead, angel.”

“Cum all over my cock, darling.”

And it might have been minutes, it might have been seconds, it might have been split-seconds later once you’re crashing into your high. The waves of white-hot pleasure taking over you until it felt like your body was burning up. 

Feverish.

You’re crying out as you attempt to bounce your lewd hips back into both their shovelling shafts- but they’ve already got you. They’re holding onto your perspired body - so limp now with pleasure - and lettin’ their pointed cockheads hit each and every nerve bundle inside.

Pinpointing your g-spot with their lengths.

Targeting it especially through peak after peak.

After peak.

Your cunt trickles with honeyed slick- and it slips between your three bodies to drench Higuruma and Nanami’s cocks. Their thighs. Their bodies. 

Making it even louder to thrust into your cunt—you’re forced to raise your voice just a little just so that they can hear. “Sh-shit…” Until eventually you’re feeling so raw on their relentless cocks that you’re unsure whether you want them to elongate those waves of bliss or whether you want to fucking run away—“It feels so- oh, it feels…”

“And what do we say?” Nanami’s deep baritone croons out. He doesn’t slow down for a single second as he speaks- even though he himself was feeling a little sensitive by this point.

He hits his full ballsack against the front of your cunt and hisses- “Can I have it all inside…” You’re looking between them with wide, heart-shaped pupils. “-sirs?”

And you should’ve known what that would do.

You should’ve known how much that would break them.

Because with only a few final thrusts, both Higuruma and Nanami cum inside you with loud slurps! of your greedy cunt. Gobblin’ up all those white ropes of seed that they were emptying out - sheer volumes that they’d been holding onto for hours, days, this entire semester.

Nanami furrows his golden brows and presses his face into the crook of your neck. Groaning as he fucks you through his orgasm, “A-and here I was just expecting a thank you…”

“Our girl always was the sweetest.” Higuruma coos. 

Your history professor rides through his high with his teeth grit, jaw working overtime to keep his noises to a minimum - he wanted to hear your soft gasps and groans even more. Though his body shakes as it keeps on thrummin’ with pleasure. 

Visceral.

Meanwhile, your law professor let out such husky grunts after each splat! of cum that he emptied out against your womb. He couldn’t even handle fucking you properly anymore and his hips kept on stutterin’ through his waves. 

Cheeks flushed. Gaze locked on you. 

He didn’t want to tear it away.

Both of them are cumming so much that you nearly can’t tell who’s who - with their dollops of heated, syrupy sap. Each divot bawling them out messily—you can feel them stick against the end of your pussy, right where your cervix was, before being stirred about by the motions of their cylindrical shafts. 

Their prominent veins massagin’ your sweetest spots. Their globular cockheads pumping every single droplet inside you.

Every single droplet.

Not a single bead of that ivory cum escapes—but they’re both still looking at each other with the same idea.

And you’re seeing yet another silent conversation pass between them that you miss. “Oh?”

In almost no time, Higuruma and Nanami have you splayed out on the polished desk - back against its flat surface, legs held high in the air. This time, however, both their faces were between your pussylips and attempting to beat the other—

They were lappin’ their dual tongues over your leaking cunt like they were starved.

Nanami’s hand pressing down on your stomach to make a few more droplets spray out of your hole- Higuruma’s hand flicking over your clit still.

You lean back on your elbows and watch them.

And what a sight it was: both their handsome faces between your legs.

They nudge their noses against the creamy layers on top of your cunt, and swivel the mess around like mad. You could see through your tears the exact moment - the exact moment - that their pinkish tongues meet in the middle.

Where Higuruma’s tastebuds overlap with Nanami’s as they’re suckling on your clit- and they both flinch at the sensation before moaning—

And that’s before the door clicks.

“Oi, why are the lights still on? Don’t you know that campus has closed a long time ag-”

You pause.

Nanami pauses.

Higuruma pauses.

And so does Professor Shiu Kong - Head of the Mathematics Department, also PhD with Distinction. 

His jaw drops as his eyes drift over from the mess of clothes on the floor, to the mess that’d been made of you. Bite marks all over your throat. The blindfold still around your neck. And even more - you could see the way his hands tighten on his files as his gaze probes deeper, taking in your leaking, lecherous cunt.

No one moves.

Except for Shiu, who steps inside.

Your heart was in your throat.

Getting ready for a berating of some kind- or potentially even worse. Perhaps a suspension, perhaps Nanami and Higuruma would be fired at once-

“So…” Shiu’s husky voice interrupts your thoughts. “-got room for mathematics?”

A/N. Heheheheh ofc we got room for youuuuuuuuu Shiu <33

By the time you arrive, the saloon’s in full swing. The piano plays in the background, buried beneath the chatter and drunken laughter, and the fiery smell of whiskey that fills the room. You’re pouring drinks, talking up strangers, dancing and singing, all while navigating through the swarm of patrons and working girls.

It used to overwhelm you, the constant buzz with never a moment to sit still. But it’s second nature now. You fall into step easily— stop by your tables, pour your drinks, show off your cleavage, repeat.

“Ain’t you a pretty little girl.”

The voice comes from the table behind you, where you're met with an unfamiliar face. Even his hat couldn’t hide his beady eyes, nor the greasy strands framing his face and his rotting teeth. He was clearly already intoxicated, swaying slightly in his chair.

Still, you shoot him a practiced smile, sultry and sweet. “What can I do ya for?”

He grins, though it’s the opposite of charming– the kind of smile that makes your skin crawl, leaving you with an overwhelming urge to turn and bolt. “Start with a beer and a ball, for the lady.”

They always do that, offer to buy a drink for the girl that’s pouring them. Oblivious. Dumb. They all were. 

“Sure, sugar.” And you’ll play along every time, since they’re lining your pockets. 

Behind the bar, you open his beer first, then retrieve the shot glass. But instead of reaching for the whiskey, you dip below the counter to grab the stashed bottle of tea. Lukewarm, amber, convincing but dry. Some of the girls would indulge more, drinking with their patrons, letting a bit loose, but you preferred to keep your wits about you. Most of the guests are alright, and some regulars you’re even fond of. But there were often new visitors that you'd be wary of– the ones that are just passing through town, like the man you're bringing a beer to now. 

They're always a little too touchy, a little too loud for your taste.

"You might be the finest scarlet lady I've come by," the man says boldly, before downing half of his beer right in front of you.

You feel your eye twitching at his comment. The new ones also always assumed that providing company was part of your job. It wasn't.

"Think you're mistaken, mister. This Angelica just pours drinks, so if ya want more than to wet your whistle, most I can offer's a dance."

By the time you finish talking, the man's already scowling up at you from his seat, an irritated disbelief etched into his features.

"Never heard that before," he slurs, "you lyin' to me, missy?"

Before you can even contradict him, he's throwing back the rest of his beer, hands moving towards his waistline. His movements set off alarm bells in your head, causing your fingers flex, inching lower towards the knife you keep in your garter. No one around is paying any attention to the rapidly escalating situation and you're about to call out to one of your girls when there's a resoundingSLAM!

The rickety wooden doors to the saloon are thrown open, nearly knocked off their hinges. The racket stirs up the layer of dust that's been long settled over the room and another wave of heat pours in, but the light from outside doesn't make it. It's blocked by the tall, hulking silhouette of a man who stands in the entrance, his broad torso easily occupying the small space. You'd never seen him before, but you'd heard of him— everyone had.

Ryomen Sukuna.

The infamous bounty hunter whose reputation preceded him, known for inked skin, faded denim, a cloud of smoke that followed him wherever he went, and of course, his success. Crime has been on the decline lately and rumor has it that it's because of him— that there isn't a criminal out there who can escape his rope once that reward is put on their head.

Whether or not it's true, it seems no one wants to take their chances finding out.

Sukuna stands there for a moment, one hand on the doorframe above his head, the other on his holster, a pair of vermilion eyes scanning the dim room. The chatter quiets, hats are lowered and gazes are averted as he enters the saloon. Leather cowboy boots stepping heavily, the weathered floor creaks with each footfall as he crosses the room towards the bar.

You take advantage of his presence to evade your rowdy customer, abandoning the drunk at the table to meet Sukuna at the counter. At first, you're relieved for the escape, glad that you may be able to finish another day at work without incident, but the closer the tattooed man gets, the quicker your heart starts to beat once more.

He's even larger up close, shoulders wide and torso domineering. His brows are furrowed, expression laced with suspicion as he continues scanning the room— but when he finally meets your own hesitant gaze the crease between his eyebrows irons out, his slight frown morphing into a sly grin.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he drawls, eyes tracing along your figure, lingering long enough on your cleavage to make your cheeks burn.

"I could say the same thing about you," you tease, elbows coming to rest on the worn barrier between you two, arms pressing your breasts further together. Your lips twitch when you see his eyes flick down once more. "What would ya like, handsome?"

He smirks at that, fully, sharp canines bared at you and a glint in his crimson irises. "Forward little thing aren't ya," he muses, a hand coming to rub at the scruff along his jaw. "There's a lotta things I'd like… but I'll start with a whiskey— neat. One for yourself too if ya like."

You smile politely, reaching for the top shelf— you're sure he can afford it, and a part of you is sure he's someone who can tell good liquor from the cheap stuff, and that he's someone who cares about that. Your assumption is confirmed by a subtle nod from Sukuna as he watches you closely. "So what's got a girl like you workin' in a place like this?"

He doesn't really mean anything by it, genuine curiosity and subtle attraction floating through the question— but it's something you get asked a lot.

You sigh, the sound of liquor pooling in his glass filling the silence as you mull over what answer you want to give him. "It's not too bad," you start, closing the bottle and handing the shot to him. You ignore the shock that courses through you when his fingers brush against yours, the way your skin tingles even after you've pulled away. "The gals are nice, and most the customers are alright."

Sukuna throws his head back, adam's apple bobbing along his thick neck as he swallows the whiskey in one gulp before setting the glass back down with a loud thud. "Another," he grunts, sliding it across the counter to you.

He hums as you pour another drink, mulling over your response. "Also gotta deal with his kind," he states flatly, thumb jutting over his shoulder at the man who was bothering you— his form now slumped over, head resting against the table as he snores loudly. "Doesn't seem too safe for a lady such as yerself."

You can't help the way you roll your eyes as you slide the glass back, "I can take care of myself. Besides, we get big bounty hunters like you visitin' from time to time— usually keeps the rowdy ones in line."

"Big bounty hunters like me?" he repeats your words, amusement in his tone, an eyebrow raised at you before throwing back the second shot.

"Well, you might be the biggest," you coo, your gaze running over his figure now, lingering at the slight bulge that's resting between his thighs.

Sukuna leans over the wood now too, face close enough to yours that you can smell the warm liquor and lingering cigarette smoke on his breath. Close enough for him to hear your own breath hitch in your throat. "Quite certain I am," he replies, voice husky.

You flash him a grin, small and sultry, one that has his jeans feeling tighter, nearly making him forget why he'd stopped here in the first place.

But you're pulling back before he can get too distracted, too lost in the smell of your perfume or the view of your plump tits. "Can I get anythin' else for ya, mister?"

"Mister? C'mon now, baby, you can call me Sukuna."

He relishes in the way you're obviously a nervous because of him, a shyer side of you coming out at his bold behavior. "But yeah, got one last question for ya."

His hand reaches behind him, rummaging in his back pocket before pulling out a folded paper. Sukuna opens it on the counter, smoothing out the creases to give you a better look at the image on the front— one with a mugshot of a man with dark eyes and darker hair, smirking at the camera in a way that draws your attention to the scar decorating the right side of his mouth. "You seen this man 'round here?"

Your gaze lingers on the paper, widening slightly at the sizeable bounty that's been place on a one Toji Fushiguro. You've never seen someone asking so much for an outlaw's capture— it makes you wonder what he could've done to warrant it. "Well?" Sukuna's deep voice cuts through your thoughts, pulling your attention back to him as you realize you haven't given him an answer.

You shake your head, "Neven seen 'im before, sorry mister."

"Sukuna," he corrects curtly, eyes narrowing slightly as he looks back at you, like he's weighing whether or not he believes you.

Pretty as you are, he knows you're a smart girl too— you have to be if you're going to work in a place like you do. And he knows lots of smart people like to keep their mouths shut about things like this, lest the person being hunted find out about their loose tongue. But ultimately, he decides you're being truthful— for now.

He gives you a grunt of approval that makes you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. "You see him, you use that phone," his head nods to the one mounted on the wall behind the bar, "to call this here number— got it?" he asks gruffly, though it's more of a command, punctuated harshly by his finger tapping against the number on the wanted poster.

"I sure will," you confirm, nodding your head now. "That your own number?"

The corner of his mouth twitches, more at your implied question than the one that actually left your lips. You want to know if you can call him, if that's a way to reach him personally— not just a company he's working for at the moment.

"Sure is, baby." He flashes you a quick wink, sliding the flier closer to you in silent communication that it's for you to hold on to. "You keep takin' care of yourself, and I'll be waitin' for yer call."

"Go on home," you huff, shooing out the last of your customers. "Saloon 'll be open tomorrow and you can drink yourselves silly again."

They're all grumbling, bumping into one another as they exit the shoddy building with wobbling steps and bottles in their hands. The night air is cool, a reprieve from the suffocating heat of the day and the moon glows softly, a welcome contrast to the blinding sun. You take a deep breath, basking in the rare silence before making your rounds, pushing in chairs and picking up abandoned glasses.

You're stationed back behind the bar, the rag in your hand only enough to wipe up the spilled liquor but not the lingering stickiness that's built up over the years. You're humming to yourself, too lost in the mundane routine that is closing up the saloon to notice the doors opening once more. You don't hear the all too familiar creak of the rusted hinges and groaning wood. You don't notice anything until the sound of heavy boots comes to stop right in front of you, two thick forearms stretching over the counter as their owner clears his throat loudly.

Your head snaps up, ready to tell whoever it is off, saying that you're closed and they ought to make themselves scarce. But the words die on your tongue when your eyes meet a set of forest green ones. You already know who it is— you've studied the picture on the flier Sukuna gave you, eyes tracing over the image of the man on it over and over under the guise of just reminding yourself what he looked like— even though you'd already memorized that.

His eyes alone were enough for you to know that Toji Fushiguro was standing across the bar from you. But still, your gaze flicks across his face, taking in the sharp cut of his jaw and the scar on his mouth, the one sporting the very same shit-eating grin that was in his mugshot. It flicks lower, to the dark chest hair poking out of his loosely buttoned flannel, to the tanned skin on the arms extended towards you.

"Got any liquor, dollie?" His voice is deep, smoother than anything you could offer him from the shelves behind you. You swallow loudly as you glance over his shoulder towards the door, and then over your own towards the phone on the wall. And then back to him.

"I do, but we're closed ya see," you explain cooly.

"Well then, what're ya still doin' here? And all by your lonesome at that," he muses, eyes glinting with something you can't quite place. You ignore the way your stomach turns at his comment, the way his gaze has drifted down to your cleavage, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he ogles the way your breasts sit pretty in your corset, rising and falling with each breath.

"Cleanin' up. Part of the job is all."

He hums, pensive. "Pretty girl like you not gonna make an exception for a thirsty guy like me?"

"You're thirsty all right," you shoot back, teasing. His grin widens at your banter, and he knows already that you're gonna give him what he's asked for— maybe a little something more if he plays his cards right. "But fine. Nothin' fancy though, bottom shelf for you since I'll be home late tonight."

"'s fine— I'll take anything you wanna give me."

You pour the shot, sliding the glass over to him and he catches it easily, immediately raising it to his lips. His eyes are locked on yours as he tilts his head back, swallowing the pour down easily, expression neutral as the burning liquid cascades down his throat. "One more?" he asks, passing it back.

"You gonna pay me?"

"Maybe. How much is it?"

You squint at him, slight frustration etching into your features at his cocky nature. You're kind enough to serve him after hours and he's already implying he might not pay.

"People are lookin' for you y'know," you state flatly, arms crossing in front of you, pushing your tits up further.

"And? What's that got to do with anything?" he questions, expression near bored, like your little comment has done nothing to phase him.

"And I've got their number. And I'd like to be paid. See where I'm goin' with this?"

He hums, chest rumbling as he looks you over once more. "Feisty one— got some bite to ya." Your eyes narrow further. "But yer not gonna call anyone."

You hesitate at that, confident facade faltering ever so slightly at his call out. "What makes you say that?"

"I seen you eyein' that phone earlier. If you were gonna call you would've already. Plus…" he trails off, voice dipping and gaze turning hungry, "I think you'd find it to be a real shame if I got taken away from ya right now."

"I couldn't care less," you retort, silently cursing yourself for how meek you sounded— even you aren't sure you're convinced, and you know for a fact that Toji isn't. He's leaning closer, a hand reaching out to touch your corset. His finger trails along the hem, your breath hitching as it hooks underneath and he tugs slightly, pulling you closer to him.

"You sure about that?" he breathes, "Cause I can give ya somethin' much better than some bottom of the barrel whiskey."

It's a bad idea. A horrible one even. But you've never been someone who's ever made the best ones. Which is why you end up letting him behind the counter.

You let him cage you in against it, his hands on either side of you as his breath fans hot and humid against your neck. You let him tease you, make little comments in your ear about how foolish you are— "lettin' an outlaw like me in here," he rasps, a hand coming to plant on your waist, his cracked lips on your neck. "Bet you don't even know half the things I'm wanted for— still wantin' me to touch you."

He talks softly against your skin, chaste kisses and languid licks interrupt his own sentences as your hands perch in his raven locks, your breath hastening as he sucks the supple skin of your neck between his teeth. He's ravenous, making out with your pulse point, leaving purple splotches in his wake as both hands paw at you now.

The sound of your heavy breathing is going straight to the apex of his thighs as his hands bunch up the layers of your skirt, revealing your stocking-clad legs to his hungry eyes. The edge of the counter is digging into your lower back as he pushes you against it, his lips trailing further to your breasts. He sighs, the sound closer to a groan as he plants more kisses to the plush fat that's falling from the top of your corset.

You arch, tits pressing further into his face as a calloused hand slips between your legs, just to find the dampness that's settled there since the moment you saw him. He chuckles, pulling back so he can stand straight just to look down at you with a patronizing grin.

"How long you been wet like this, dollie?" His hand rubs over your clothed sex, unhurriedly despite the way your hands move to his neck in silent plea for him to give you more. "Knew you didn't want me to leave," he murmurs smugly.

"Shut it," you groan, tugging him down to you, desperate to taste him. He's eager too, smiling against your mouth as your lips meet in a frenzy, teeth clashing clumsily as you two make out like it's the only thing keeping you alive. His teeth dig into the plumpness of your bottom lip, biting down hard, tugging harder. You moan softly at the sharp pain, and he takes advantage of that to slip his tongue into your mouth.

The muscle twirls along yours, swipes at your teeth, explores like he has all the time in the world before eventually pulling away. You're left breathless, chest heaving as you look up at him again, your lips already feeling sore from the rough treatment.

"Hold this f'me, dollie." He presses the bunched fabric of your skirt into your hands, his own free ones now sliding along the outside of your thighs as he sinks to his knees. You gasp when you feel him rip the fabric of your tights, the spandex tearing loudly.

"I don't have many pairs of those, y'know," you scold him, but he's barely listening.

"Too hot for 'em anyways," Toji mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your thigh, the muscle twitching against his lips. Your hands card through his hair as he hooks his fingers into your underwear, tugging the soiled fabric to the side. He sucks in a breath at the sight of you— glistening pussy lips inches from his face, all wet and puffy with need.

The rough pads of his fingers glide along the soft skin of your cunt, stilling when your hips buck as he drifts over your clit. "Right here?" he muses, applying more pressure. You don't even need to answer with words, the way your legs tense around him is enough.

"Please, sir," you whisper, brows furrowed and eyes locked on the image of him kneeling before you, "I want more."

"I know," he replies, cock twitching at the desperation in your voice. And yet, he takes his time. Fingers rubbing slow, gentle circles over your sensitive bud, as his lips come to kiss your sticky folds, making you shudder.

His free hand grips your thigh roughly, grounding you in place, grounding you to him. And your own hands tighten again, black hair slipping through your fingers as you tug painfully when you finally feel his tongue sliding against you. Laid flat and wide, he drags it lazily up your slit until it meets his fingers.

And Toji continues like that, for longer than you'd like but despite your hips trying to buck against his face, despite your hands trying to bring him closer to you, despite your wanton moans and needy pleas, he doesn't give in. He teases you, only gives you a fraction of what you want from him at a fraction of the pace you need it in.

He touches and moves you how he likes, working you over until you're putty in his hands and all you can do is let him— and hope that he'll eventually reward you.

"Toji, I need more," you whine, even though you don't expect him to care. He doesn't. He just groans against your dripping cunt, relishing in the way your juices are starting to dribble onto the insides of your thighs.

"Me too, dollie— can't get enough," he rasps, his hand leaving your cunt to spin you around. The hand that was hooked in your panties pulls hard in the process, yet again ripping through a pair of your undergarments. He tugs the torn fabric away, letting it fall unceremoniously to the ground.

"Toji!" you yelp as he presses you back into the counter.

""m still a thirsty man," he mumbles against you, lips coming up to suck at your clit in a way that draws out the most delicious sounds from you. Your hands claw at the worn wood as your forehead drops to the counter and your hips grind back against him. "That's it, gimme more of this pretty pussy— been starvin'."

Your mind swirls with pleasure, his dirty words and the feeling of his tongue slipping into your waiting hole the only thing you can focus on until—

BAM!

Your head snaps up, eyes widening when you see him. Tall and broad, leather boots hit the planks in the saloon with purpose as Sukuna stalks straight towards you.

"We're closed," you state, trying to muster up as much conviction as you can— which isn't a lot with the way Sukuna's staring at you with a fire in his eyes and Toji's mouth is still making out with your pussy lips.

"Don't care," he grunts, voice raspy and the smell of cigarettes rolling off of him in waves. His eyes are sharp, piercing through you as you fight to keep your composure. But of course now Toji is ready to give you what you're been asking for all this time— his tongue buried deep inside your slick cunt, his fingers pressed hard against your throbbing clit.

"Where is he?" Sukuna asks gruffly. You know that he already knows, but a small, foolish part of you is still trying to hold out hope that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't— solely for the sake of your dignity.

"W-who?" you stammer out, nails digging further into the soft wood of the counter as you fight back a moan when Toji's other hand comes to join his tongue— two thick fingers plunging deep inside you without warning.

"C'mon now," he drawls, expression unreadable, "you know who I'm lookin' for."

His eyes rake over you, drinking in your image. There's a slight sheen on your forehead, a sweat he doubts can be attributed to the day's earlier heat, your cheeks flushed and a crease between your brows. Not to mention you're holding on to the damn counter like it's about to run away.

Sukuna's not an idiot, and it's almost offensive that you're still keeping up with this little charade, acting like you don't know exactly what he knows. But he's also a man. And one who can't deny that he's becoming addicted to the look on your face and the soft pants you're trying to swallow down.

Toji isn't an idiot either— he knows that Sukuna's searching for him, he has been for a few days now. But Toji's a man too, one who's already become addicted to the taste of you on his tongue, the smell of your sex and the way you drip onto his fingers. So he doesn't stop. He's relentless, mouthing at your pussy and rubbing your clit with a dangerously steady pace— one that has your walls throbbing around his digits.

The sweat starts to bead on your forehead as that familiar pit grows in your stomach. You roll your hips, but even you're unsure if you're trying to push them further onto Toji or pull them away.

Sukuna can feel his cock twitching against his denim, the fabric giving little, caging his pride behind a zipper and a button in an uncomfortable way. You're obvious now, chest heaving deeply as your breath quickens, and it's all you can do to avert your gaze from his steady one, a sense of humiliation rushing through you.

"He's not here," you barely get out, voice breathy and wavering.

"Stolen horse out back," Sukuna explains curtly, "knew he was from the second I seen it."

You stammer, nothing really coming out— but you're not even sure what your reply would be, he didn't leave much room for disagreement.

"Said you'd call me, baby." He speaks low, voice gravelly as a large hand comes to grip your chin. He tilts your head, makes you look at him— you don't get to lie to him and then try to hide. So now he wants you to see him, hear the sound of his voice when you fall apart on Toji's tongue. "Little hurt that ya didn't— why is that?"

You will yourself to use every last ounce of energy to reply to his question, and still the words that come out— "I d-didn't have a chance"— they're another glaringly obvious lie. The minute the sentence leaves your lips you can see the way his mouth pulls into a straight line.

"No, you jus' didn't want to," Sukuna calls you out, fingers moving to squeeze your cheeks together, forcing your lips apart. "But I guess I should've known…" he muses, lips quirking up slightly at the ghost of a moan that escapes from your mouth. "Woman like you jus' can't help it, huh? You'll let anyone have a go at you, I bet."

You shake your head as much as you can despite his grip, but he overpowers you, forcing you to nod instead. "Mhmm," he coos, acting like he's agreeing with you as he presses his thumb to your lips. The very same lips that were trying to protest your innocence, trying to claim that no, you don't let anyone at you, still part for him, making just enough room for the digit to slip inside. "Thought so."

Toji's smirking against you, still working tirelessly because he can feel how close you are. He knows it's only a matter of minutes before you'll be tumbling over the edge and falling into the throes of your orgasm— and it's going to be there, behind the counter and in front of Sukuna.

Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you as Toji's fingers curl, pressing against your gummy walls with every thrust of his hand. He's making sure to reach as far as he can each time, pumping in sync with the rhythm on your clit as his tongue laps at your arousal.

Your little whines come out muffled, stifled by the thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, all the way until Sukuna's knuckles knock against your teeth. He's grinning down at you, admiring the way your lips close around him, the feeling of your tongue swirling and sucking on the digit. He can't help but imagine what it'd feel like to shove his cock between your lips instead— his free hand coming to palm at his bulge, aching for some relief.

"You close?" Sukuna grunts, pulling his hand out of your mouth with a soft pop. Your breathless moans spill from you now, loud and unobstructed as you clench down around Toji's fingers at the sight of Sukuna bringing his thumb to his own mouth, his tongue swiping at the pad, licking up the saliva coating it. He groans and the sound alone is making your stomach tense, your core fluttering.

"I'm close— god, 'm so close," you mewl, head falling forward onto the counter. Toji's humming against your heat, vibrations coaxing out every last shudder in your body, every last drop of your cum in your pussy as you finish on his face and hands. "Sh-shit!" you're crying out, hips pressing down further onto the man still licking at your cunt.

"Look at me," Sukuna commands, a hand weighing heavy on the back of your head before fisting in your hair and tugging hard. He forces your head off the bar, craning your neck until he can see you fully— relishing in the fucked out look on your face, just from one measly climax. You're all sweat and sex, glossy lips red and plump from Toji's kisses and your teeth digging into them as you tried to keep any ounce of composure before. "Feels good, don't it? Lucky girl, even though 'm not sure ya deserve it anymore," he rasps, eyes narrowing down at you, "that bastard Toji don't deserve to taste you either… but what's done is done."

"She taste's damn good too— bet you wish you'd gotten to her earlier," Toji replies, smug as he ducks out from under your skirt and stands to his feet, wiping your slick from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

Sukuna's hand unfurls from your hair, coming to rest on his hip as he glances over the two of you. His expression is flat, unamused, "Now just what 'm I gonna do with you," he mutters, palm of his other hand still rubbing against his constrained cock.

Your eyes shoot up, brows knit as you stutter, "M-me?"

"The both of you," he replies, stern. You look confused, despite knowing what you've done wrong and that makes something twist in Sukuna's chest. Toji just shrugs, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls your hips back, making you suck in a breath at the feeling of his own stiffness rubbing against your ass.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth again as you glance again at the look on Sukuna's face— once stained with a sort of easy arrogance, it's darkened, morphed into something that makes you rub your thighs together in apprehension and anticipation. "Bring her over 'ere."

He turns, stalking slowly over to a nearby table, kicking the chairs out from under it. And in a flash Toji's got your feet off the ground, arms tightening around your body as he practically throws you over his shoulder and carries you over to Sukuna. He moves with an unnatural strength despite your flailing legs and the shriek you let out. "Quiet down, girlie," he barks, free hand coming up to smack your ass sharply.

Sukuna smirks at the little squeak you let out from that. "Put her down on the table."

Your gaze flicks between the two men once you're set onto the wooden top, propped up on your elbows as you glare at them both. "A little warning wouldn't kill ya," you huff, flustered at the way Toji was manhandling you.

"Sure wouldn't," Toji grins, "but that was more fun, huh?"

"For you, maybe," you grumble, only making his smile wider.

"Exactly."

Sukuna rolls his eyes, his patience wearing thin. Without a word he steps to you, both large hands coming to rest around your ankles— the touch brings goosebumps to your skin, his hands warm and rough from years of shooting and wrangling in criminals like Toji. Calloused fingertips dance along your calves, sliding the layered fabric of your skirt up your legs once more. He's still silent, gaze focused and actions deliberate, the only thing on his mind right now is to finally see what Toji was already able to.

Your breathing accelerates slightly, chest rising and falling deeply as your skirt pools around your hips and Sukuna lets out a low groan. Your stockings have ripped more from Toji's wild treatment and the stretch as you spread your legs open wider for the tattooed bounty hunter, the tear in the fabric giving him a clear view of your puffy cunt, all glistening and sticky with your release and Toji's spit.

"Pretty one ain't it?" Toji pipes up, Sukuna's eyes drifting to his face as he hums in agreement.

You let out another yelp as you're being manhandled again, Sukuna tugging hard on your legs until you're positioned how he wants you— with your legs bent and spread wide for him, and your head hanging off the other end of the table for Toji.

You can't see Sukuna anymore, your vision being blocked by a single set of muscled thighs clad in dark denim as Toji positions himself in front of your face. But you can feel him— the heat radiating off of his body, the hands on your pelvis between your legs, thumbs and index fingers spreading your pussy open for him. He gathers saliva in his mouth before spitting directly on your cunt, pupils tracing the glob as it drips from your clit over your entrance, down to your ass.

You gasp, the spit cooler than your heat, providing a welcome contrast, and you can feel your arousal building once more.

Toji's cock is throbbing painfully now, and he's not sure he can wait much longer without any sort of relief, his hands already coming to undo his belt, his button, his zipper. The eagerness in his movements draws a chuckle from Sukuna— as if he isn't experiencing the same kind of pain, that dull, throbbing ache that won't cease until he does something about it. So he works on his belt too, the two of them soon letting the pieces of leather and metal collapse to the floor.

The men exchange a glance, a subtle tension starting to grow as their fingers hover, twitching over their holsters. But you shift, squirming slightly on the table between them, brows furrowing as you try to figure out what the hell the two of them are doing that's taking so long— and that gets them moving again. Each man undoing the clasps, setting their revolvers down on the chairs beside themselves.

Your eyes catch Toji's hands drifting to his waistband, thumbs hooking into the jeans and tugging them down along with his boxers in one swift motion. And you can't help the way your eyelids shoot apart, gaze widening significantly at the sight of his thick cock just inches from your face. It's veiny, the fat, angry tip leaking precum and you want to taste him so badly.

"Well, don't you look excited," he muses, a hand drifting to grip his base. Heat prickles just under the surface of your skin along your cheeks. "Lemme see you first," he drawls, free hand reaching out to you. His fingers toy with the hem of your corset, admiring the way your breath picks up again, your breasts threatening to spill out with each rise of your chest. So he helps them— ever a thoughtful man— his fingers dipping into the stiff garment, squeezing each breast lightly before slipping them out of your top.

"She just keeps gettin' better and better," Sukuna teases, his own ruby irises glued to the sight of the plump fat sitting pretty in Toji's hand as he gropes at you. Your legs are shifting, trying to create some friction despite Sukuna standing between them— each graze and roll of your nipples between Toji's fingers has your cunt getting wetter, needier. "She really is excited," Sukuna affirms, "ain't you, baby?"

You nod fervently, head swinging in the air as it continues to hang off the table. "Please, mister— f-fuck!" you jolt, yelping as Sukuna pinches your clit.

"Told ya not to call me that," he states firmly. "Think we're past those kinda pleasantries, what with ya all laid out, practically beggin' me to fuck you."

His grip is solid, harsh and painful as he presses the sensitive bud between his finger and thumb. There's a slight wetness in your waterline, an innate response to the hurt being inflicted on your already throbbing clit. Toji's eyes widen ever so slightly as he watches, hands still playing with you and himself. He feels something stirring low in his gut at the sight of you, knowing that he can be a little rough. You won't break.

"Say it— my name," Sukuna grits, fingers pinching harder.

"Sukuna!" you cry out, back arching and vision blurring, "S-sukuna, please—"

He grins, finally letting go and rewarding you instead with gentle circles over your swollen clit, soft and soothing. Your body reacts instantly, spine relaxing and a sigh of relief falling from your lips. "That wasn't so hard now was it?" he coos, tone strikingly different from just moments before.

A lopsided grin splits across your face. "No, mister, it wasn—aah!" you're cut off again with another harsh pinch to your clit, and you can instantly feel the slick that's starting to coat your folds once more.

"Fuckin' brat," Sukuna spits, Toji chuckling at his irritation— the outlaw finding your deliberate defiance amusing.

"She's got a mouth on her," Toji finally speaks up, catching Sukuna's attention, "think I've gotta put it to better use, huh?" His hand is pumping along his shaft steadily, your gaze watching as he shifts closer to you.

"Go 'head and shut her up," Sukuna grumbles, "fuckin' tired of her tonight." And despite the clear frustration in his words, he's got a smirk tugging at his lips, and his fingers have resumed their light caresses of your poor clit, his fingers dipping every so often to slide between your folds, feeling for himself how wet you are.

"Open wide, dollie," Toji orders. He watches intently as your tongue lolls out, providing the perfect little landing pad for his heavy cock. He slaps the chubby head against your tongue, once, twice, three times, and you can taste the salty pre that's dripping from his slit onto your taste buds. You moan, half a communication of your arousal at his actions, half an urge for him to continue— to take what he wants from you. "What a darlin'," Toji grunts, finally letting his girth rest on the slippery muscle before pressing forward.

His hips move slowly, a nonverbal kindness he's offering you because he doesn't need to look to know there's tears pricking your eyes once more. Your throat is clenching around him as it tries to accommodate his hefty size, and before he can push in all the way you're gagging.

He pulls back, giving you just a moment before trying again. And again. And again. Each time he gets a little further, working you up slowly, getting you used to him until he finally feels your chin brushing against the hair at his base.

"Shit, doll—" he groans, "Lil' throat just suckin' me in now."

You try to hum in response, but all that comes out is garbled sound, saliva pooling in the back of your throat as you struggle to swallow it down.

And the whole situation has you desperate, rolling your hips unashamed against Sukuna's hand, pleading with him to fill you up too. You only stop squirming when his hands drift to your hips, pinning them down on the table with a force you can't fight against— not that you'd want to when you feel the head of his cock finally pressing against your cunt. He growls as he slides the long shaft along your slit, your glimmering folds spreading around his length with each drag.

"Look at that," he rasps, breathless, "so damn wet already."

"That's cause I made her cum," Toji pipes up arrogantly, making Sukuna scowl.

"I should be stuffin' yer mouth instead— fuckin' annoying— sh-shit-" he ends with a sharp moan when the tip catches on your hood, slipping inside your warm cunt with ease. Your throat vibrates around Toji again making him grunt, his hips twitching, pressing his cock a little deeper.

"Hell— you feel incredible, woman," Sukuna mutters, rolling his hips as his eyes study the way your tight hole is stretching to fit him. And then he shifts his hands to your plush thighs, pulling them as he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion.

A pitchy, muffled sound comes from you as your back arches off the table again, eyes clamping shut at the sting from Sukuna splitting you open. Toji's tugging a lip between his teeth to keep from crying out just as loud, your body being pushed onto him with the force of Sukuna's thrust, your throat constricting as you gag after your obstructed sob.

"So tight, shit," Sukuna breathes, sliding his hips back slowly just so he can watch as your cunt practically pushes him back out, his veiny length already completely soaked in your arousal.

"Fuckin— shit- fuckin' move," Toji grunts, his forehead feeling hot, damp hair starting to cling to it. Your mouth is wrapped so nice around him and all he wants is to feel more.

Sukuna sends him a warning look, but he listens— he wasn't going to be able to hold out any longer anyways, his cock already too hard, too throbbing to tease you any longer.

And it's ruthless— the pace he sets. Hips slamming into you with a force that has the backs of your thighs stinging, skin prickling from his own skin slapping against yours. He's bullying himself into your poor pussy, spreading your gummy walls wide with each thrust, all the while fucking your throat down onto Toji's dick.

The salty droplets that were forming in your eyes start to fall, up your face as your head hangs upside down, streaking along your forehead where Toji's balls are smacking against you before slipping into your hair. You're struggling to keep your tongue flat, to just let Toji use your mouth for his pleasure. You're struggling to swallow down the saliva that keeps pooling in the back of your throat as he bruises it, and each time you try you're just tightening around Toji, sucking him in like you don't want to let him go.

Sukuna's head hangs forward, limp like he has no strength left to hold it up because every ounce of his energy is being poured into fucking you senseless— and it's working. Your tits bounce with each slam of his pelvis into your ass, chest flushed and skin sweaty, all you can do is take it. Writhing on the table between the two men who are determined to reduce you to nothing but a mess, a deposit for their cum once they're finished with you.

The cruel assault on your pussy has your orgasm building rapidly, like the forgotten aftershocks of your first one have returned with a vengeance. The sounds coming from you are obscene— gagging around Toji, wet and strangled as drool finally starts to trickle out of your mouth to join the tears on your face. You're sniffling repeatedly, snot from your crying and heavy breathing through your nose just making more of a mess on your face. But all of it is drowned out by the sound of your sopping cunt.

It's sloshing around Sukuna— your juices soaking his pubes and your folds, your ass and his pelvis, each thrust just splashing more around.

"Such a dirty girl," Sukuna grunts, punctuating the sentence with a particularly rough plunge into your warm hole, "ya gonna cum again? Make a bigger mess?"

You don't need to be able to talk to give him an answer— your walls already fluttering, spasming around his cock. The feeling has his own sex pulsing inside you, and he can tell Toji's following close. His eyes are shut tight, and he's muttering sweet nonsense about how good your mouth feels and how you're swallowing him whole.

"God, you feel like heaven— wanna fill y'r pussy up." Sukuna's pupils are blown wide, a feral smile stretching across his face when he feels the way your cunt strangles him at the sound of his words. "Yeah, you want that? Wanna f-feel my cum inside ya?" And you're clenching again, stifled moans falling wildly at the thought.

Toji's orgasm take's him completely by surprise. The feeling washing over him at once, pushed past his peak at your relentless whining because of Sukuna's teasing. "Aah f-fuck— shit! 'm cummin-" he gasps, the only alert to your hazy mind before his cock is twitching on your tongue and his cum is shooting down your throat.

The white liquid pools quickly, and you're hardly able to swallow it all by the time Toji pulls out of your mouth, causing some to slip past your lips onto your face. "Goddd— that mouth-" he groans again, hand gently pumping his softening cock, a few more twitches pushing out the last bit of his spend onto your outstretched neck.

Your throat burns, already sore from Toji's cock repeatedly ramming into the back of it. You're whimpering, finally able to speak and yet you barely can— voice hoarse and raspy. Not to mention you barely have the energy to form a sentence, Sukuna's hips accelerate as his own climax approaches, spurred on by the sight of Toji's cum painting your skin, the sound of your wrecked voice filling the space between you.

"Fuck, 'm close too—" he grits out, his jaw tight. "Lemme see her face." His own voice is wavering slightly, a desperate edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

For the second time tonight your head is being lifted up so Sukuna can actually watch you. And he's trying not to cum on the spot, not to reach his climax before you because "fuuuck— y'r fuckin' ruined aren't ya." Skin sticky and wet with saliva and tears and cum, your lips all puffy and makeup ruined. Your vision is blurry, mind dizzy as your orgasm presses closer, all you can do is croak out a weak repetition of Sukuna's name, your head limp in Toji's palms as your eyes roll back and your whole body convulses.

"S'kuna! 'mcum—hahh- c-cumming—" Your thighs shake under Sukuna's fingers as your cunt gushes. Your slick spills out, viscous and frothy as he keeps fucking into you, the overstimulation just coaxing more wetness from you.

"Holy hell," Toji breathes, his tired dick starting to perk up once more at the sight of you.

"Damn, baby," Sukuna pants, hips stuttering as he starts to lose himself because it's all just too much now. Your body is too warm against him, your cunt too wet and tight, your face too fucked out and your moans too broken. Within seconds the deep baritone of his voice cuts through the stale air, "Fuck!"

He finally stills. His eyelids flutter shut as seemingly endless spurts of his seed paint your walls. Sukuna's chest shudders as he pulls out slowly, eyes drifting open because he'll never forgive himself if he misses this sight. Your pussy red and raw, his shaft covered in webs of both your cum and his as it drags out little by little until you're empty— leaving your gaped cunt pulsing around nothing, just pushing his release out.

Sukuna's in awe, breathless and at a loss for words as his gaze never leaves the space between your bruised thighs. A hand drifts down, gathering his spend on two fingers before it can drip too far and pushing it back inside. The intrusion has you groaning tiredly, your pussy sore and overstimulated.

"Don't wanna waste any, do ya?" Sukuna murmurs, eyes finally cutting up to your face once more.

You shake your head weakly, sniffling. And he thinks you've never looked more beautiful— through all your mess and the bruises and bodily fluids, your skin is glowing, eyes glassy and shining up at him. He'd love to scoop you up, lay you on his bed with him just to fuck you one more time— slow and gentle, of course— but he can't.

He's well aware that he only has a few minutes to act before his window of opportunity closes. So in a flash he's got a hand on his revolver, the gun cocked and a finger hovering over the trigger. And the barrel?

Pointed straight at Toji.

You can't help but laugh as you watch through your daze, because it is a little ridiculous, isn't it? Both men standing wide, all serious and tense now, but with their dicks still hanging between their legs.

In the end Toji relented, letting Sukuna add yet another success to his track record— a big one at that. He let him tie his rope around his wrists nice and tight, and drag him out of your saloon, but not before flashing you a smile and a wink.

"Don't worry, dollie— I'll be back for ya."

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A/N: wheeew, lowkey that took me sm research. anywho- ty again to pip and pepper for beta reading ;-;