yawnetu.

you gasp louder than he does. choso's head turns with the force of your strike, and the hand that had been kneading your boob like a stress ball flies up to touch his cheek.

and then you feel it. the sudden jolt of his hips upward into you, the release of his fourth orgasm of the night spurting hot inside of you. he just came.

and so, you lean into the sadism now pooling in your heart. your legs are pushing you up off his only half-hard cock and dropping it back down before he can even find his breath to ask you to slow down.

"wait, wait," he chokes, a loud gasp sounding as he grabs at your hips to try and control your mean pace, just to be slapped again.

you watch his eyes roll back a little, and something sick and twisted indie of you spurs you on. "count."

"...huh?"

"count. you know how," you repeat, lifting up on his cock and slapping him across the face again as you drop down and take him to the base. "come on, count or i'll stop."

that gets him going. "god... three."

you ride him like you aren't exhausted, reaching out to take choso's chin between your fingers and guide his gaze to yours. he flinches as you do so, which tightens both your heart and pussy, because apparently you're one of societies sickest.

"now thank me," you lean forward, manoeuvring his head so that you can lick up the side of his cheek. the skin you've slapped is hot on your tongue and makes choso's entire body squirm.

"please," he uses his manners, though not the ones you asked of him. grabbing at your hips, digging fingers into flesh so hard it hurts enough to spur you on. "please, thank you. more, thank you... please."

well—you've gone and broken him.

he takes the fourth nicely, with a choked thank-you and a few tears now cradled in his lash line. a part of you wants to hold him close and wipe his tears dry, but the poor soul is bucking up into you to meet your pace and clenching every muscle in his body preceding his fifth orgasm of the night.

and before you can even raise your hand to slap him a fifth time, he's looking up at you with these huge eyes and your spit on his face and sweat sticking his pretty hair to his forehead. "five," he's counting before-the-fact. so eager for you. "five, five, please."

god, you love him.

the fifth slap sends him nicely into his fifth orgasm. his whole body shakes, spurting nothing inside of you because he's been milked dry as it is. still, the absolute mess of a man that he's become beneath you is enough to tip you over that same fine edge.

you don't have half the mind to consider the ethics behind orgasming this hard after striking your sweet boyfriend across the face. if you're this dazed—struggling to catch your breath as you lean forward and press a relentless assault of kisses to the face you've just slapped senseless—you can't imagine was kind of sludge you've turned choso's brain into.

"still alive in there?" you manage, checking his eyes like you're observing a head trauma victim. "too much?"

despite a face wet with tears and an apparent inability to find his words, choso shakes his head. he looks dumb with overstimulation, but still manages to grip your hips and start lifting you up on his cock again.

"what are you—" you look down to where his shaky arms are guiding you to start riding him again. "i think i might have damaged your brain, baby."

the love marks. faint now, but still there—just under your collarbone, one near your hip. hickeys scattered where his mouth had lingered too long. where he’d kissed too hard. where you’d gasped his name and arched up into him like you couldn’t stand to be anywhere else.

and god, he hadn’t meant to get carried away.

he always tries to be careful. always slows down when you’re gasping too sharp, always holds your hips like they’ll shatter if he squeezes wrong. but last night, you kept whispering that you could take it. kept wrapping your legs around his waist, tugging him deeper. kept begging him not to stop, even when you were crying from how full you felt—how good it was.

you kept asking for more. and clark… he gave it to you.

slow and deep and dizzying. missionary, like he was trying to see every little tremble in your expression, trying to memorize the exact way your face crumpled when you came so hard around him you nearly passed out. his hand had cradled the back of your neck, his other one gripping your thigh to hold you open. his lips on your skin, worshipping, murmuring “that’s it, sweetheart… just like that…”

he remembers the heat of your body. the slick sounds between you. how long you stayed trembling underneath him, gasping every time he rolled his hips forward—how tight your hands clutched at his hair when he finally leaned down and bit into your shoulder, panting like he couldn’t help himself.

and now, in the light of day, seeing those marks again?

he feels himself twitch hard in his jeans.

he doesn’t mean to interrupt you. you’re just folding laundry, humming something quiet. but his hand’s already on your waist, fingertips slipping under your shirt.

“baby,” he says, voice thick in his throat. “i’m sorry, but… i need you again.”

and when you turn to him—soft-eyed, flushed—he’s already lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing.

he’s gentle when he lays you down, even if his breathing’s already gone rough. even if there’s a sharp tension in the way he pushes his jeans down just enough, cock flushed and heavy, bobbing up against his stomach as he leans over you again. big hands cage your hips. your legs fall open easy.

“you sure?” he asks, low and thick.

you nod, chest rising fast. “please, clark…”

his cock twitches at that.

and then he’s pressing in, thick head nudging through your folds, dragging slick as he slowly splits you open. the stretch knocks the breath out of you—he’s big, he always is—but tonight feels worse, somehow. maybe because you’re still tender from last time. maybe because he’s already got you worked up, flushed and soft and pliant under him.

his eyes flutter as he pushes deeper.

your hands find his forearms, digging in as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours. your walls flutter around him, overstuffed. it’s too much. but so perfect.

he doesn’t move at first—just stays there, buried deep, staring down at you like he’s trying to hold back from falling apart too soon.

but then you whimper.

and he starts to roll his hips.

slow and controlled. each stroke heavy and dragging, his cock brushing something inside you that makes your toes curl. it’s overwhelming—the size of him, the way he fills you, the way his voice goes soft and low and wrecked every time you clench.

“that’s it, sweetheart… ”

his hand slides under your thigh, lifting it higher against his side. the angle shifts—suddenly he’s hitting even deeper, even slower, and your breath catches.

he leans down to kiss you, tongue sliding past your lips as he grinds in. his pelvis rubs up against your clit now with every thrust, and your thighs twitch helplessly in response.

clark pulls back, panting, and rests his forehead against yours.

“you gonna come for me again?” he whispers. “still sore from earlier, huh? but you’re squeezing me so tight… ”

you nod, desperate, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. your whole body feels like it’s buzzing.

he kisses you again—soothing, tender—before his hips pick up pace.

not too fast, but rougher. deeper. your hands scramble for something to hold onto—his arms, his back, the sheets. your orgasm builds fast and hard, the pressure unbearable.

“clark—” you gasp. “clark, i—i’m gonna—”

“i got you,” he breathes, kissing your jaw, your cheek, the bruised mark on your neck from last time. “let go for me, sweetheart. i got you…”

you do. it hits like lightning—your back arches, your mouth opens in a silent cry, and your cunt clamps down so tight around him he groans into your skin, hips stuttering.

he doesn’t last long after that.

you’re still shaking when he buries himself deep one last time and moans your name into your neck, his cum spilling inside you in long, hot pulses. it’s thick and messy. so much you can feel it dripping when he finally pulls out, slow and careful.

his eyes stay on your face the whole time—soft, in awe.

“…sorry,” he whispers after a moment, thumbing the fresh bloom of red forming where his mouth had just been. “i said i was gonna be gentle.”

you smile, dazed. “you were.”

he grins—sheepish, lovesick, like he can’t believe his luck.

“still,” he murmurs. “maybe i should clean you up… and then do it again. real slow this time.”

before shiu can protest, toji crouches, wedging himself in, shoving shiu’s head to the side. his mouth latches onto your cunt with practiced hunger — hot tongue flicking your clit fast, lips sloppy, spit drooling into your folds as he groans like he’s fucking feasting.

“oh— my fucking god!” you scream, thighs clamping around his head.

toji pulls back just to spit on you, strings of saliva dripping over your clit before he licks it back up, smirking at shiu out the corner of his mouth. “see? it’s not rocket science. she’s fuckin' gagging for it, holy shit.”

shiu snarls, shoving him aside with a hand to his shoulder. “get the fuck off—i’ve got it.”

“you sure?” toji smirks, chin still wet. “’cause she looks like she’s about to cum already and that was all me.”

“shut up,” shiu snaps, pressing his mouth back to your pussy with more determination this time. his tongue circles your clit clumsily but hard, stubble burning against your soft skin as he sucks noisily, grunting into you like he’s in a fight.

your whole body jerks. you clutch at his hair, whining, desperate. “please, please—don’t stop, oh god—”

“fuckin’ finally,” toji mutters, leaning back with a grin, watching the mess of you spread out and shaking. “there we go. keep her right there, shiu, don’t fuck it up—”

shiu breaks suction with a wet smack, panting, jaw wet with spit and slick. “shut the hell up before I—”

“before you what?” toji taunts, sliding his thumb along your clit just to make you yelp. “she’s begging for me. doesn’t sound like she cares which one of us does it, as long as somebody makes her cum.”

“toji—shut the fuck up!” you sob, hips grinding helplessly, the tension in your gut unbearable. “please, one of you—just, please!”

both men freeze for a beat, glaring at each other over the mess of your soaked cunt. your thighs are trembling, slick smeared all over their mouths, their chins, the sheets below you.

toji smirks first, tongue dragging slow across his lower lip. “hear that, shiu? she’s frustrated. and that’s on you, not me.”

shiu clenches his jaw, stubble dripping with your slick, glaring like he’s seconds from snapping. “shut the fuck up,” he growls again—then dives back between your thighs, determined, messy, desperate to wring your orgasm out before toji can get another word in.

his tongue pushes into your slit, rough and hungry. his stubble burns against your folds with every grind of his jaw, but it only makes you squirm harder, clutching at his hair like you’re trying to anchor yourself.

“nghh—fuck, yes, yes, there!—” your thighs quake around his head, voice breaking.

toji chuckles darkly, crouched at his side, hand palming himself lazily over his sweats as he watches. “finally figured it out, huh? look at her. the little slut’s about to soak your fuckin' face. took you long enough.”

shiu growls against your pussy, vibrations rolling through your clit, his eyes snapping up at toji in a glare. “fuck. off.”

but you don’t care who’s winning this pissing contest — all you know is the coil in your belly snapping tighter and tighter, your hips grinding helplessly into shiu’s mouth. his tongue circles your clit now, harsh and sloppy, his lips sealed tight around you as he sucks like he’s trying to steal your soul.

“shit—she’s shaking,” toji mutters, smirking. he leans in closer, almost crowding shiu out, his thumb reaching down to rub your clit side to side, fast. “c’mon, princess, give it to us. make a mess for me.”

the sudden double stimulation wrecks you. your back arches clean off the bed, a broken scream ripping out of your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

“ohhh, f-fuck, i’m—ahhh—!”

your thighs clamp around shiu’s head but he doesn’t budge, growling into your cunt, tongue lapping at everything you give him. slick gushes out, dripping down his chin, smeared across his stubble, soaking the sheets. the squelching is obscene, wet schlck, slop sounds filling the air.

you’re trembling, sobbing, pushing at his head weakly but he just keeps going, desperate, like he’s addicted already.

“holy shit,” toji laughs, low and filthy, hand rubbing his cock slow through his sweats as he stares down at the mess between your thighs. “look at that—she fucking squirted. and you swore you didn’t like this shit.”

shiu pulls back finally, panting, face drenched in your slick. his brows are furrowed deep, jaw clenched, chin dripping. “she came because of me,” he snaps, voice hoarse.

toji laughs low in his chest, leaning down so he’s eye-level with him. “nah. she came ‘cause i had to hold your fuckin’ hand through it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his thumb over your clit, smearing your slick. you whine, twitching. “hear that? she’s still sensitive. bet i could make her cum again in thirty seconds flat.”

“don’t touch her,” shiu snaps, grabbing toji’s wrist roughly.

toji just smirks, unbothered, his lips curling slow. “possessive now, huh? where was that energy when you were leaving her high and dry every night?”

shiu’s jaw ticks, eyes sharp as a knife. “back the fuck off.”

for once, toji actually raises his hands in mock surrender, backing off with that lazy grin plastered across his face. “alright, alright. relax, tough guy.”

he pushes up to his feet, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, leaving it shiny with your slick. he licks it off slow, deliberate, eyes dragging over your trembling body splayed out on the sheets. “she’s all yours. for now.”

shiu doesn’t answer, too busy catching his breath, chest heaving, his mouth still glistening from being buried between your thighs.

toji grabs his half-empty beer from the table, heading for the door with that same easy swagger he walked in with. just before stepping out, he glances back at you — fucked-out, shaking, thighs still sticky and glistening — and smirks.

“hey, sweetheart,” he drawls, eyes glinting with mischief. “if you ever get sick of this guy choking on his pride… you know who to call. i’ll make sure you’re begging for mercy in five minutes flat.”