Appa Yip Yip

"If you want us to stop, now is your only chance," Obito warns, grabbing your chin to force you to look in his eyes.

You part your lips to retort, but no words come. Instead, you seize Obito by the collar and slam your lips against his, pouring all your frustration into the kiss. He responds instantly, his hands gripping your waist with a bruising intensity as he presses you harder against Kakashi’s solid form.

When you pull away, gasping for air, you twist to face Kakashi. "This doesn't mean I forgive either of you," you caution, before yanking him forward by his flak jacket.

Kakashi's kiss is different—deliberate where Obito's was wild, yet equally demanding. His tongue dances with yours as his hand knots in your hair, tugging sharply enough to draw a gasp from your lips.

"We don’t need your forgiveness," he murmurs against your lips. “Just you.”

Your hands attack their shirts, ripping them over their heads with reckless abandon. They respond in kind, stripping you with a frenzied urgency that speaks of months of repressed longing. Obito tugs your shirt up while Kakashi pulls your skirt and panties down your legs. Kakashi's mouth clamps onto your neck, sucking with enough force to leave indelible marks while Obito’s hands traverse your newly bared skin.

"So, is this what you’ve wanted all along?" You ask breathlessly as your entire body is flooded with sensations, your voice fracturing as Obito's teeth graze your pulse point on the opposite side of your neck. "To have me like this?"

"We wanted it all," Kakashi admits, his fingers delving into the slick heat between your thighs, running through your sopping pussy lips. "Every piece of you."

You arch into his touch, sucking in a breath, loathing how effortlessly your body betrays your fury. "You're both such—ah!—such bastards."

Obito laughs darkly against your skin as you hold onto his muscular shoulders. "But we’re your bastards now."

They drag you into the bedroom, a chaotic tangle of limbs. Before you can even reach the bed, you’re pulled to a stop. Kakashi's hands are rough on your body, one grasping your breast possessively while the other forces its way between your thighs. "We've thought about this too many times," he mutters, his fingers circling your clit with aggressive intensity. Your hips buck at his ministrations, gasping loudly as he rolls your swollen clit between two fingers.

"I’ve been dying to taste you," Obito growls in your ear, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands pushing your thighs apart as his hot breath hits your core. "We're going to make you forget every asshole who's ever touched you."

Obito doesn't waste a second, his tongue invading your wet heat, sending harsh jolts through your veins. Your hands grasp his dark hair, steadying yourself as his Sharingan watches every breath and twitch you make— his eyes narrowing at your pleasure. His tongue swirls around your sensitive bead and then dips into your center, nearly causing your legs to give out.

"Look at how wet you are for us," he growls against your hot flesh, the vibration of his words making you whimper despite yourself.

Behind you, Kakashi presses his bare chest against your back, his silver hair brushing your shoulder as he leans down to rasp orders. "Spread your legs wider, I want to watch."

You comply, your anger having shifted to desire as they consume you. Kakashi's fingers slide down your spine, tracing down your backside to squeeze your supple flesh before giving it a firm smack. The sudden impact makes you cry out, your hips jerking forward into Obito's demanding mouth.

"That's it," Kakashi growls before pulling back for another one despite still reeling from the first one. "Let us hear you."

Obito's tongue works relentlessly against your clit, flicking and circling it as Kakashi’s other hand spreads your lips open. Sucking on your puffy lips, Obito pulls away with a vulgar pop before focusing on your clit again. All of it is overwhelming, culminating in a building pressure low in your belly that threatens to consume you. Rubbing your welted cheek, Kakashi stares down your body to watch your teammate devour your pussy.

"Oh fuck," you gasp, your voice breaking as Kakashi rubs two wet fingers over your clit as Obito plunges his tongue in your quivering hole.

Obito smirks against your core, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you upright as your knees begin to buckle. Kakashi withdraws his fingers suddenly to grab you by your hips and flips you around to face him. Obito chuckles darkly from behind, planting gentle kisses to your welted ass cheek.

"I want a taste," Kakashi mutters in your ear, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he kneels before you, replacing Obito's mouth with his own, throwing one leg over his shoulder.

Both men were now on their knees for you, and you could barely function at the sight. Kakashi was on your mound in a second, lapping at you wildly, taking in the mix of your juices and Obito’s spit. Obito went to work just as fast, spreading your cheeks and prodding your back hole with his tongue, giving it several stiff licks before swirling around it. You gasp and buck at the intrusion, earning an appreciative growl from Kakashi. Your hands tangle in his silver hair as they synchronize, moving over your core in tandem and meeting in the middle.

It was all too much, and you haven’t even been penetrated yet. With just their mouths you were trembling beneath them, unable to speak as they suck and lick your most sensitive spots. The tightness in your gut rises, and you know you’re getting close as your muscles clench.

And then came the hands.

At first it was Kakashi, abruptly plunging two fingers into your pussy and hooking them forward, the pads of his fingers stroking that spot. You nearly scream as your hips move on your own, grinding back and forth on both of their faces. Obito’s hand, slick with your arousal, traces the curve of your ass, one finger circling your puckered entrance with insistent pressure. "Relax," he commands, though it is impossible as the undeniable flood was approaching. Squeezing your ass cheek as he pulls it apart, he slowly works his middle finger inside you, his Sharingan watching intently as it sinks into your tight hole.

The sensation is intense, a sharp stretch that makes you gasp and push back against him instinctively. Kakashi never falters, circling your clit with relentless precision and curling his finger’s perfectly as Obito adds another finger to your rear entrance, scissoring them to stretch you.

"Look at you," Obito stands and growls in your ear, his free hand reaching around to grasp your breast as he stabilizes you against his chest, pinching your nipple harshly between his fingers. "Taking us so well."

The coil in you threatens to break, your body shaking under their relentless assault. Kakashi's tongue latches on to your clit and sucks as Obito's fingers thrust deeper, and you feel yourself approaching the edge with frightening speed.

"Oh fuck, I—I’m going to—” the words die in your throat as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. Your body convulses violently, knees buckling completely as you come undone against Kakashi's eager mouth. He groans against your quivering flesh, his tongue working relentlessly to catch every drop of your release, drinking you in with hungry enthusiasm while your hands twist painfully in his silver hair.

"That's it," Obito purrs against your ear, his fingers still working inside your back entrance, stretching you with deliberate precision. His other arm wraps around your waist, holding your trembling body upright as you ride out the waves of pleasure. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking and biting marks into your skin. "Good girl," he coos.

Kakashi's tongue continues its assault, prolonging your climax until you're sobbing his name, begging him to stop and continue all at once. Your thighs quake uncontrollably around his head as he laps at your oversensitive flesh, his eyes locked on yours with predatory satisfaction.

"So fucking beautiful," Obito murmurs against your neck, his cock hard against your lower back as he adds a third finger to your rear entrance. The stretch burns deliciously, making you gasp and push back against him despite the overstimulation. "I can't wait to be inside you."

Kakashi finally pulls away from your core, his chin glistening with evidence of your pleasure. He rises to his feet with grace, his exposed face flushed with desire, and his impressive erection straining against his pants. "You taste even better than I imagined." He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue as it delves into you. His hand comes to your face, holding you flush as he invades your mouth, covered in your arousal.

Obito withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty, but not for long. They maneuver you toward the bed with possessive hands, their remaining clothes discarded in a frantic rush. Kakashi's pants hit the floor, revealing his thick length, already leaking at the tip. Obito steps out of his, his erection springing free, equally impressive and throbbing with need.

"On your knees," Kakashi commands, voice rough with desire as he guides you onto the mattress.

You comply, the plush bedding beneath your knees a stark contrast to the hard grip of their hands. Kakashi positions himself at the edge of the bed, his cock level with your face, the musky scent of his arousal filling your senses. Behind you, the mattress dips as Obito kneels, his hands spreading your thighs wider.

"Look at me," Kakashi demands, positioning himself at the edge of the bed. His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I want to see those pretty eyes while you take me in your mouth."

You part your lips obediently, your tongue darting out to wet them as Kakashi guides his length toward your waiting mouth. The first taste of him is salty and masculine, making you moan around his girth as he pushes past your lips.

Behind you, Obito growls appreciatively at the sight, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force while he drags his thick head through your soaked folds.

"Fuck, you're drenched," he growls, teasing your entrance with shallow thrusts that make you whimper around Kakashi's cock.

Without warning, Obito slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. The force pushes you forward, taking Kakashi deeper into your throat. You gag, tears springing to your eyes as both men establish a rhythm that leaves you caught between them, filled from both ends.

"That's it, pretty girl," Kakashi praises, his thumb wiping away a tear that escapes down your cheek. "Choke on my dick."

Obito's pace is relentless, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your toes curl. His fingers dig in further, surely bruising you as he pulls you back to meet each powerful drive of his cock. "So tight," he hisses, one hand reaching around to rub your still-sensitive clit. "Already clenching around me."

Your mind goes blank as they use you, eyes drifting shut as the pleasure builds once more as you surrender completely to their domination. Kakashi's cock hits the back of your throat with each thrust, his breath becoming more ragged as he watches your lips stretch around him.

"Eyes up here," he commands, tugging your hair to force your gaze upward. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your core clench around Obito's pounding length.

"She likes that," Obito observes with a dark chuckle, feeling your reaction. "Her pussy just got tighter."

Kakashi's rhythm falters momentarily as he fights to keep control. "You're going to make me come if you keep looking at me like that," he warns, his voice strained. Your eyes were watering and stained by mascara, and Kakashi adored it.

Obito's pace becomes punishing, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as you struggle to focus on your task. Kakashi's breathing grows ragged, his hips jerking erratically as he nears his peak. You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, wanting to taste his release.

"Fuck—stop," Kakashi suddenly growls, ripping your head back by your hair, pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop. His hand wraps around his base, squeezing tightly as he fights back his orgasm. 

The sudden emptiness in your mouth leaves you gasping, but Obito doesn't relent. His cock drives into you with renewed vigor as he forces you down with a hand between your shoulder blades, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. His fingers find your clit again, circling the swollen bud with merciless accuracy.

"Come for me," he demands, his voice strained with the effort of his own restraint. "Come all over my cock."

The command pushes you over the edge. Your body convulses violently, inner walls clamping down on his length as pleasure tears through you like lightning.

“Obito, I–!” You scream, back arching as your second orgasm washes over you with devastating intensity.

"Fuck!" Obito hisses, his rhythm faltering as your pussy milks his cock. His fingers dig painfully into your hips as he fights against his own release, his body trembling with the effort. "So fucking tight—I almost—"

He doesn't finish the sentence, instead pulling out abruptly, his cock slapping against his stomach, angry and red. Precum leaks from his tip as he takes deep, steadying breaths.

"Not yet," Kakashi commands, his hand on Obito's shoulder. "We're not done with her."

Before you can catch your breath, strong hands are on you, flipping you onto your back. They manhandle you with practiced efficiency, rotating your body so your head hangs off the edge of the bed. Kakashi positions himself between your trembling thighs while Obito stands at the head of the bed, his glistening cock—wet with your arousal—level with your upside-down face.

"Open," Obito demands, tapping his length against your lips.

You part your lips obediently, your mind still hazy from your recent orgasm. The angle is strange, but thrilling, as Obito slides into your mouth. From this position, your throat opens more easily, allowing him to push deeper than before.

Meanwhile, Kakashi spreads your legs wider, hooking your knees over his elbows as he lines himself up with your entrance. "So fucking wet," he observes, his voice thick with lust as he teases your sensitive folds with his tip. “I can’t wait to watch your pussy swallow my dick.”

With one, slow thrust, Kakashi buries himself inside you, drawing a soft moan from your lips as you clench around Obito's cock. The sensation of being filled again so soon after your orgasm is overwhelming, your oversensitive walls stretching to accommodate his thickness.

"You’re taking us so good," Kakashi commends, his pace measured but deep as he watches Obito's cock disappear into your throat.

Obito's hands cup your face, guiding your movements as he thrusts shallowly. "Relax your throat, darling," he instructs, striving to go deep.

Darling. Never in a million years did you think Obito would be calling you that. And for some reason, it made your pussy quiver, earning a sharp groan from Kakashi.

You're trapped in an overwhelming rush of sensations, your body suspended between them as they take you from both ends. Kakashi's pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he watches you choke on Obito's length. The sound of wet flesh slapping against kind fills the room, punctuated by your muffled moans and their guttural groans.

"Fuck, she's perfect," Kakashi growls, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads you wider, angling his hips to hit that spot deep inside you that makes your vision blur.

Obito's cock slides deeper into your throat, making you gag at the intrusion, as tears stream from your eyes again. "That's it, babe," he praises, his thumb wiping away the moisture. "Take it all."

The dual assault on your senses is too much— your pussy streched you raw, and Kakashi's dick hitting places inside you that make your toes curl, while Obito fills your mouth, the taste of him and your own arousal mingling on your tongue. Your body trembles, hovering on the precipice of something monumental.

"Fuck, your pussy is gripping me," Kakashi hisses, his rhythm becoming erratic as he pounds into you. "She's close," he grinds out as he gives Obito a nod.

Obito's hand snakes down to pinch your nipple, twisting it just shy of painful. "Cum for us," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Show us how good we make you feel."

Kakashi's thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles as his cock pistons into you. The combination of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing. Your back arches off the bed, dislodging Obito's cock as a scream tears from your throat. A gush of fluid erupts from your pussy, soaking Kakashi's length and dripping down onto the sheets below.

"Holy shit," Kakashi gasps, his eyes wide with awe as he continues to thrust through your release, his cock glistening with your juices.

Your vision begins to go white, the force of your orgasm making your entire body shake uncontrollably. Waves of pleasure crash through you, each one more intense than the last as Kakashi continues his relentless pace.

"I've never seen anything so fucking hot," Obito groans, his hand working his cock as he watches your face contort in ecstasy.

Kakashi's movements become desperate, his control slipping as your walls continued to clamp down around him. "I can't—fuck—I'm going to—"

His release floods your insides with searing heat as he throws his head back, a guttural moan escaping his lips. His hips jerk erratically, emptying himself completely inside you, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs as he rides out his climax. For a moment, he stays buried deep, his chest heaving with exertion, sweat glistening on his pale skin.

"Move," Obito commands, shoving Kakashi aside with impatient hands. Kakashi pulls out slowly, his cum immediately trickling from your swollen pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, his breathing still ragged as he watches through half-lidded eyes.

Before you can even process the loss, Obito is there, his eyes still burning with unsatisfied hunger. "My turn," he growls, his cock still painfully hard and glistening. He maneuvers himself onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. "Come here."

Your limbs feel like jelly, your mind hazy from multiple orgasms, but you find yourself drawn to him like a magnet. Obito guides you with firm hands, positioning you above his lap, his thick length standing proudly beneath you.

"Ride me," he commands, his Sharingan spinning lazily as he takes in your disheveled appearance. "I want to watch your face as you take every inch of me."

You straddle him on trembling thighs, feeling Kakashi's release dripping from your pussy onto Obito's dick. The Uchiha hisses at the sensation, his hands gripping your waist to steady you. "Look at you," he murmurs, one hand reaching between your bodies to spread your swollen lips. "Dripping with his cum, and still so hungry for more."

You whimper as he notches his thick head at your entrance, the sensitive hole still pulsing from Kakashi's attention. Slowly, he lowers you onto his length, stretching you anew as he fills you inch by delicious inch.

"Oh god," you gasp, your hands bracing against his chest as you sink fully onto him. The angle is different, deeper somehow, making you feel impossibly full.

Behind you, the mattress dips as Kakashi recovers, moving to kneel behind your trembling form. His hand slides up your back, pushing you forward gently until you're folded on Obito's chest. The position leaves you vulnerable, your ass raised invitingly toward Kakashi.

"Look at me," Obito commands, capturing your chin between his fingers as you start to rock against him. Capturing every flutter of your eyelashes, every parting of your lips as pleasure builds again.

You feel Kakashi's fingers, wet with a mixture of fluids, circling your rear entrance. The sensation makes you clench around Obito's length, drawing a hiss from between his teeth.

"Relax," Kakashi murmurs against your shoulder, pressing gentle kisses along your spine as one finger breaches the tight ring of muscle.

The burning sensation of Obito's cock stretching your pussy and Kakashi's finger working into your ass makes your mind go blank. You rock back and forth between them, caught in a rhythm that has you gasping for breath as you rub your clit on his pelvis.

"That's it," Obito encourages, his hands guiding your hips as you ride him with increasing confidence. "Use my cock for yourself."

Kakashi adds a second finger, stretching you with careful precision while Obito's cock fills you completely, hitting spots inside you that make your vision blur at the edges. The flood gates begin to fill, building a pressure in your lower belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Obito groans, his hips snapping up to meet your downward movements. His hands grip your waist with bruising force, guiding you into a punishing rhythm that has you seeing stars.

Kakashi's lips trace the curve of your shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin under your ear as his fingers work you open. "Next time, we’ll be fucking you here," he murmurs against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

The coil in your belly winds tighter with his words and with each thrust in your holes. Obito's pace becomes more frantic, his control slipping as he watches your face contort with pleasure— every detail of your ecstasy.

"I can feel how close you are," he growls, one hand sliding between your bodies to find your swollen clit. "Cum for me. One more time.”

“I-I can’t,” you pant as you struggle to catch your breath, your pussy feeling the strain from overuse.

“You can and you will,” Obito growls.

His thumb circles your sensitive bud with merciless friction, while Kakashi's fingers curl inside you, brushing against Obito’s throbbing dick that is railing you. The combination is too much—the fullness of Obito's cock stretching your pussy, Kakashi's fingers working your ass, both their voices murmuring filthy encouragements in your ears.

"Oh god—" Your words dissolve into a scream as the dam breaks. Your body convulses violently, another gush of fluid erupting from your pussy, soaking Obito's lap and the sheets beneath you. The force of your orgasm is staggering, making your vision go white once again as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you.

Obito's control shatters at the sight of your release. His hips buck wildly, driving into you with animalistic force as your walls clench around him. "Fuck—fuck—" he chants, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks. His rhythm becomes erratic, desperate, as he chases his own release through the aftershocks of yours.

Kakashi holds you steady, his fingers still working gently inside you as he peppers your neck and shoulders with soothing kisses. "That's it," he murmurs against your skin, his free hand stroking your trembling back. "Ride it out."

Obito's movements grow increasingly frantic, his breath coming in harsh pants against your collarbone. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his body going rigid as he finds his release. "Fuck!" he roars, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep inside you, adding to the mess of fluids already there.

When the last tremors finally subside, you collapse against Obito's chest, utterly spent. Kakashi withdraws his fingers slowly, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder before moving to lie beside you both. For several minutes, the only sound in the room is your collective ragged breathing.

Obito's arms tighten around your waist as you lie atop him, his breathing gradually steadying. Beside you, Kakashi stretches out on his side, one hand lazily tracing patterns on your sweat-slicked back.

"Looks like we finally found a way to shut you up," Obito murmurs against your hair, a smirk evident in his voice.

You stiffen slightly at his words, the post-orgasmic haze beginning to clear from your mind.

"Mm, and to keep her from running off to train with Tenzo," Kakashi adds, his fingers now trailing up and down your spine with deliberate slowness. "Doubt he could make her squirt that much."

You push yourself up on trembling arms, turning to glare at Kakashi’s smug face. "Are you serious right now?"

"What?" He asks innocently, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

With a frustrated groan, you roll off Obito, landing between the two shinobi. The movement causes both men's release to trickle down your thighs, a sensation that makes you grimace.

"You two are unbelievable," you mutter, staring at the ceiling. "We just had mind-blowing sex, and you're already back to being assholes."

Kakashi props himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with that infuriating half-smile. "Would you prefer we start reciting poetry about your beauty?"

"I'd prefer you not talk about other men while I'm literally covered in your cum," you snap, though there's less bite in your tone than before.

Obito chuckles, turning to mirror Kakashi's position on your other side. "Jealousy is a good look on you," he teases, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

You swat his hand away, but he captures your wrist, bringing it to his lips for a surprisingly tender kiss. "Don't worry, we're just getting started with you. By the time we're done, you won't even remember Tenzo's name.”

You groan in exaggerated irritation, moving to sit up, only to be pushed back down by both men.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kakashi asks as they both wrap their arms around your waist, anchoring you between them.

You open your mouth to cut back at him, but your brain hums gently as you become enveloped in their body heat, your body relaxing without your control. So you give in to it, closing your eyes as you feel them ease around your body.

because unlike makki, iwaizumi doesn’t immediately start laughing.

there’s just... a pause.

then hajime’s voice, low and normal and totally unaware of the crime scene he has stepped into. “you busy?”

issei looks directly at you.

you shake your head at him in horror and delight.

he licks his lips.

“little bit.”

“then why’d you answer?”

“’cause you called. i’m polite, iwa.”

“you sound weird.”

issei hums, and his thumb slides back over you, slow enough to make your legs tense.

you bite down on your knuckle.

“do i?”

another pause.

oh, hajime knows now.

you can hear the exact second he knows. the silence changes shape. gets heavier. more aware.

“... matsukawa.”

“yeah?”

“are you fucking around right now?”

issei’s smile is lazy and lethal.

“technically, my mouth’s occupied.”

you make the worst sound into your hand.

hajime goes dead silent.

not scandalised loud like oikawa. not delighted loud like makki.

silent.

issei’s brows lift like he’s fascinated.

then, with the calm of a man setting down a drink, he taps speaker and lays the phone flat on your stomach.

the cool edge of it makes you twitch.

you choke on a laugh, which turns into a gasp when he slides two fingers back into you, slow and deliberate.

“oh my god,” you breathe.

the phone is right there. resting on your stomach, speaker up, close enough that every little broken sound you make has nowhere to hide.

issei looks too pleased with himself.

“iwa,” he says casually, as if he is not knuckle-deep and watching your hips start to lift. “you still there?”

no answer.

issei’s fingers curl.

your back arches.

“hajime,” issei sings, awful and soft. “don’t be rude.”

“i’m here,” iwaizumi says, voice tight.

there it is.

not hanging up. not telling him to stop. not even pretending hard enough to hate this.

issei’s grin goes slow.

“yeah?” he murmurs. “you wanna be?”

the silence after that is fucking insane.

you stare at issei, wide-eyed, breath catching in little pieces as he keeps touching you. he’s not even going down on you anymore. he’s just watching. sitting between your legs with his cheek against your thigh, fingers moving steadily, gaze flicking between your face and the phone on your stomach like this is some kind of casual group activity.

“i asked you something,” issei says.

hajime exhales through his nose.

“... if she’s okay with it.”

your whole body tenses.

issei’s fingers pause.

not stop, exactly. just slow.

his eyes come to yours, humour gone thin for half a second. the real question underneath it.

you nod.

he waits.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i’m okay with it.”

issei’s smile comes back, softer first.

then worse.

“you hear that?”

“i heard,” hajime says.

his voice sounds different now. lower. rougher around the edges.

god help you.

issei kisses the inside of your knee. “good. then stay quiet if you’re gonna be shy about it.”

“fuck off,” hajime says, but it has no bite.

“mm. that isn’t very nice, hajime.”

you laugh, breathless, and issei rewards it by dragging his fingers just right.

your laugh snaps into a moan.

hajime makes a sound.

tiny. barely there.

but it is a sound.

issei hears it.

of course he does.

“oh?” he says.

“don’t.”

“didn’t say anything.”

“you were about to.”

“i was just thinking.”

“do that privately.”

issei’s fingers slow, and you whine before you can stop yourself.

he looks down at you with mock pity.

“see what you did? distracted me.”

“issei,” you complain.

“yeah, baby?”

he says it so casually. so warm. like he isn’t turning you into a trembling mess with his best friend listening.

“don’t stop.”

iwaizumi’s breath catches audibly.

issei’s eyes darken.

“bossy.”

“you’re being annoying.”

“i’m being generous.” his gaze flicks to the phone. “aren’t i, iwa?”

hajime says nothing.

issei laughs quietly.

“still there?”

“yeah.”

“quiet.”

“yeah.”

“you jerking off, boy scout?”

the silence is immediate and catastrophic.

your eyes go huge.

“issei.”

“what?” he asks, innocent as a knife. “it’s a question.”

hajime’s voice comes back strangled. “you’re a fucking asshole.”

“that wasn’t a no.”

“jesus christ.”

“that wasn’t either.”

you are going to die.

you are actually going to die in this bed because matsukawa issei cannot behave for five consecutive minutes and iwaizumi hajime apparently has a closet pervert streak big enough to qualify as a second apartment.

issei leans down and kisses you, right above where his fingers are still moving.

soft. terrible.

then he speaks, not to you this time.

“she’s so wet,” he says, conversationally. “you should feel this.”

your face burns so hot you think you might pass out.

hajime swears under his breath.

issei watches your reaction like he loves it.

“she likes when i talk about her,” he continues, still lazy, still cruelly calm. “acts embarrassed, but she gets tighter every time.”

you shake your head.

his fingers curl again.

your hips jerk.

“liar,” he murmurs to you.

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i might.”

“you’d miss me.”

“i’d miss your dick.”

“same thing.”

hajime makes another sound then, partly a laugh, half a curse. like he can’t believe he is hearing this. like he cannot believe he is not hanging up.

issei’s smile sharpens.

“there you go,” he says. “knew you were alive.”

“shut up.”

“nah. iwa, she’s trying so hard not to make noise.”

“don’t drag me into it.”

“you’re on speaker on her stomach. you dragged yourself in.”

“that was you.”

“you could hang up.”

nothing.

issei hums.

“thought so.”

then he lowers his mouth back to you.

and if the fingering was bad, this is worse.

because now he is showing off.

not in a clumsy way. not obvious and exaggerated. issei is too smooth for that, too confident in the exact way that makes him irritating. he just settles back between your thighs and eats you out like he knows hajime is listening to every wet sound, every shaky breath, every broken little syllable of his name you fail to swallow.

your hand flies into his hair.

the phone shifts on your stomach as you arch.

“careful,” issei murmurs against you, and the vibration makes your legs tremble. “don’t drop him.”

“i’m going to kill you,” you gasp.

“after?”

“maybe.”

he laughs into you.

hajime says nothing.

but he is breathing.

that’s the thing that gets you. the quiet on the other end isn’t empty anymore. it’s full of him. tense and controlled and too present. you can imagine him sitting somewhere with his jaw clenched, phone in one hand, the other maybe—

you whimper.

issei’s eyes flick up.

“oh, what was that?”

“shut up.”

“you thinking about him?”

you try to close your thighs, which is a mistake because his shoulders are there and he just spreads you open again.

“don’t hide now.”

“issei.”

“answer.”

your pulse is in your throat. “maybe.”

hajime curses.

issei grins against you.

“cute.”

then he stops talking and gets serious.

which is how you know you’re fucked.

he knows exactly how to pull you apart when he wants to. knows when to tease and when to shut up, when to give you pressure, when to back off just enough that your body chases him. his hands lock around your thighs, his mouth gets precise, and everything narrows down to heat and breath and the weight of the phone rising and falling with your stomach.

you come with hajime listening.

it’s not graceful.

it never is with issei when he’s showing off.

your back arches, one hand in his hair, the other clutching at the sheets, and the sound that leaves you is loud enough that you hear hajime inhale sharply through the speaker. issei doesn’t let up until you’re squirming, thighs trembling against his cheeks, voice breaking around a too-much little sob.

then he lifts his head.

slowly.

mouth wet.

eyes dark.

“good?” he asks.

you nod weakly.

“words.”

“i’m good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he pats your thigh once.

“great.”

then he grabs your hips and yanks you down the bed.

you squeal.

actually squeal.

because you’re overstimulated and boneless and he moves you like you weigh nothing, dragging you to the edge so suddenly that the phone nearly slides off your stomach. you catch it with one clumsy hand, laughing breathlessly even while your whole body is still shaking.

on speaker, hajime makes the craziest fucking sound.

not a full moan.

not a word.

just this punched-out, involuntary thing that tells on him so badly the room goes still for half a second.

issei freezes.

then looks at the phone.

then at you.

his smile becomes a war crime.

“iwa.”

“don’t.”

“that was cute.”

“don’t.”

“you liked that?”

“fuck you.”

“i’ll pencil you in.”

you laugh again, helpless, and hajime sounds like he might be suffering psychic damage.

issei stands at the end of the bed.

and yeah.

yeah, you forget how to speak for a second.

because he is tall. tall in that loose, lanky way that hides the sheer size of him until he is standing over you with your hips in his hands and his hair falling into his eyes. he drags you to the very edge, lifts your ass like it’s nothing, adjusts you until your legs are hooked just right.

the angle alone makes your stomach flip.

then he lays his cock over your lower stomach.

just rests there.

heavy and hard and obscene against your skin.

you stare down.

he does too.

“issei,” you breathe.

“i know.”

he loves this.

loves seeing it. loves the visual of how deep he’ll reach, how far up your body he can mark the promise of it before he even gets inside. it makes him smug in the worst way, quiet and satisfied and absolutely aware of what it does to you.

his thumb strokes your hip.

“look at that,” he murmurs.

hajime is dead silent.

issei tilts his head toward the phone.

“wish you were looking, iwa?”

“don’t be mean,” you manage.

“shame. i’m so good at it.”

hajime’s voice is rough when he says, “you’re evil.”

“little bit.”

“more than a little.”

“you’re still here.”

another pause.

then hajime says, very low, “yeah.”

oh.

oh, that gets everyone.

even issei’s expression flickers for a second, amusement giving way to something hotter. he looks down at you, brows raised like, you hearing this?

you nod, dazed.

“yeah,” issei says softly. “he is.”

then he slides into you.

you lose your breath.

fully.

it’s so deep at that angle that your hands fly to his wrists, nails digging in as he holds you up to meet him. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. just a stunned little gasp that cracks at the edges when he bottoms out.

issei’s jaw tightens.

“fuck.”

hajime mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.

issei catches it.

“what was that?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

“keep going.”

the words are clipped. controlled. almost angry.

they make you clench so hard issei groans.

“oh, she liked that.”

“stop narrating everything,” hajime says.

“no.”

then he starts moving.

slow at first, because the angle is insane and because you are still sensitive from his mouth. deep, measured thrusts that push the air out of you every time, his hands firm under your ass, lifting you to meet him like he’s using your body exactly how he wants and making sure it ruins you properly.

the phone is still on you, slid down now to stick to the sweaty skin just below your tits.

you can feel the vibration of hajime’s breathing through the case.

it is obscene.

it is ridiculous.

it is so hot you almost can’t stand it.

issei talks through everything.

of course he does.

he tells you how good you feel, how tight, how pretty you look trying to take him like this. tells hajime how your face changes when he gets deep enough. how your thighs shake. how you get louder when you forget to be embarrassed.

and hajime just listens.

quiet.

too quiet.

until issei pushes.

“say something, iwa.”

“no.”

“why not?”

“because you’re already insufferable.”

“she wants to hear you.”

your eyes fly to his.

issei grins.

“you do.”

“i—”

he thrusts deep, and your words scatter.

“see?”

hajime’s voice is rough. “she okay?”

the question punches right through all the heat.

because it’s hajime, of course it is. repressed pervert or not, he still sounds like himself. grounded. careful. checking, even with his voice strained.

you swallow, breathless.

“yeah. i’m okay.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

issei’s expression softens for the smallest second.

then he ruins it by saying, “hear that? she’s okay. you can keep jerking off now, boy scout.”

“mattsun,” hajime snaps.

you make a sound that is half laugh, half moan.

issei’s grin comes back full force.

“there we go.”

“you’re going to hell.”

“probably. wanna come with?”

“not answering that.”

you are absolutely dissolving.

every thrust punches up into that deep, impossible place that makes your legs go useless. issei’s hands hold you steady, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips. your head tips back against the mattress, one hand fisted in the sheet, the other pressed weakly over the phone like you can somehow hide the sounds and keep hajime close at the same time.

issei notices.

“don’t cover him.”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“you’re annoying.”

“you love it.”

“you’re too deep.”

his hips slow immediately.

“too deep bad?”

you shake your head fast.

“no. good. just— fuck!”

“more words.”

“good,” you gasp. “it’s good.”

“yeah?” his voice goes warm and filthy. “you want more?”

you nod.

“say it.”

“more.”

hajime exhales sharply.

issei’s eyes glitter.

“oh, he liked that one.”

“i hate both of you,” you breathe.

“liar.”

then he gives you more.

not faster. deeper. meaner in that careful way that has your body going loose and desperate beneath him. the whole bed shifts with it, rhythm steady, your ass lifted in his hands, his cock hitting so deep that your vision goes blurry.

and then he says it.because he knows exactly when to.

“wanna come for iwa?”

you whine.

“yeah?” he asks, voice low. “wanna come while he jerks off to the sound of you getting fucked like this?”

hajime makes a strangled noise.

“issei.”

“what?”

“you’re— fuck.”

issei laughs, breathless and dark. you nod before you can think better of it.

issei’s gaze snaps back to you.

“please,” you whisper.

his hands tighten.

“please what?”

“make me come.”

“who for?”

you are gone. truly gone. no dignity. no shame. just heat and pressure and hajime’s breathing through the speaker.

“for haji.”

the silence after that is violent.

then hajime groans. low. wrecked. utterly ruined.

issei’s composure almost cracks.

almost.

“fuck,” he mutters. “good girl.”

he shifts one hand, keeping you lifted with the other, and gets his thumb on your clit.

that’s it. that’s the end of you.

the angle, the pressure, the phone, hajime’s barely contained sounds, issei’s voice talking you through it like he has all the time in the world. it all collapses at once.

you come hard enough that your voice breaks. hard enough that your whole body shakes in his hands, hips jerking uselessly as he keeps you exactly where he wants you. issei talks you through the entire thing, filthy and soft, telling you there you go, that’s it, let him hear you, while hajime swears on the other end like he’s trying not to fall apart too loudly.

issei follows not long after.

he holds you tight, thrusts going uneven, head tipping back with a groan that would be embarrassing if he were capable of shame. he comes deep, still standing at the edge of the bed, hands locked around you like he’s anchoring himself through it.

for a few seconds, no one says anything.

you are wrecked.

hajime is silent.

issei is breathing hard, staring down at where he’s still inside you with a lazy, satisfied look that makes you want to kick him if your legs worked.

then hajime says, flat and disbelieving, “are you fucking serious?”

issei doesn’t miss a beat. “nah. her name isn’t serious.”

hajime hangs up. immediately. the room goes dead quiet.

then you burst into exhausted laughter.

issei looks down at the phone, then at you, completely calm.

“rude.”

“you are the worst person alive.”

“he asked.”

“you are insane.”

“yeah.” he finally eases you back onto the bed with surprising gentleness, one hand sliding under your thigh so you don’t jolt too hard. “you good?”

you blink up at him, sweaty and ruined and still trying to recover from the fact that iwaizumi hajime just got dragged into this ecosystem and absolutely did not leave.

“yeah,” you mumble. “i’m good.”

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

“nice.”

he pulls out carefully, and you make a tiny miserable sound because everything is too much now. he kisses your knee like he’s apologising, which is offensive because he is not sorry.

then he grabs his phone.

you squint at him. “what are you doing?”

“checking if he blocked me.”

“did he?”

a pause. “no.”

“coward.”

“right?”

the phone buzzes once in his hand.

issei reads it and smiles.

“what?”

“iwa says he hates me.”

“you deserve it.”

“he also says to never call him again.”

“you answered his call.”

“i’ll remind him later.”

“don’t.”

“i won’t.”

“you absolutely will.”

“probably.”

you groan and cover your face.

issei tosses the phone aside and pats your thigh.

“okay. shower.”

“don’t boss me around after ruining my life.”

“you’re gross.”

your eyes snap open. “it’s your fault.”

“yeah.” he shrugs, shameless. “still gross.”

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate your friends.”

“no, you don’t.”

you stare at him and he grins.

“especially not haji.”

you grab a pillow and throw it at him. he catches it against his chest, laughing, then leans down to kiss your forehead like he has any right to be sweet after all of that.

“come on,” he says. “shower before makki finds out and the group chat becomes unlivable ’cause we left him out.”

but is it gonna fit? 

you aren’t so sure anymore. but gods–you will try. even if it will be the last thing you do. 

issei leans back against the headboard, half-lidded eyes and lazy smiles, one hand resting behind his head. there is an air of confidence around him, not cocky, but something much more humiliating. it makes you feel like a puppet on strings, inevitably drawn towards him, crawling on all fours between his spread legs.

“mmm. so eager.”

not: i’m gonna make it fit, baby, don’t worry. not: i’ll stretch you out good. shh, easy, alright? not: just the tip. i know you can take me. attagirl.

no, matsukawa issei makes you work for it. 

his big hand cups the side of your face when you press your cheek against his thigh, a thumb slipping between your lips as if to test your gag reflex. it would feel almost mocking if you didn’t suck on it so greedily, drooling all over his digits until he removes them with a soft pop. 

only a striking vein of his cock betrays his demeanor, pulsing and throbbing as you trace it with your tongue before your lips wrap around his tip. you lap up his precum and issei lets out a low groan, his hand now in the back of your neck–not pushing you down, not pulling you back, just steadying you as you work yourself down on his shaft. 

a hoarse laugh when you come up for air, the thumb of his other hand collecting a tear that pricked in the corner of your eye, his hips giving an involuntary twitch when you gag around him.

you’re making it fit–with every stroke of your fist, every glide down your throat, every clench of your pussy around nothing.

issei’s hands settle on your hips when you straddle him again, steadying you on top of him, his cock wedged between your dripping folds, coated in makeshift lube from spit and your arousal dripping down your thighs. his gaze is burning into you, setting you ablaze with hunger and desire. 

with spite, too. because of course it’s gonna fit. every monstrous inch of length and girth, carving himself out into your being. 

you grind against his cock and the planes of his abdomen until his thick happy trail and his bush are sticking dripping wet to his skin. only then you reach for him between your thighs, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock to line him up with your fluttering hole.

his head tips back, eyes closed and adam’s apple bopping with a dry swallow when you sink down on him–torturously slow, claiming every inch of him as yours with each soft pulse of your cunt wrapped around him. you’re so wet that there’s absolutely no resistance until he bottoms out fully. you’ve never been stretched out like this before, never felt so full, and it dawns on you that you would miss his cock before you even milked him off every single drop of his cum yet. 

issei gives your thighs a squeeze as if to draw you back into the present, one where you’re still very much stuffed to the brim by him. he laughs and it echoes within his chest, low vibrations throughout his entire body; and then he pulls you closer until he kisses you again, deep and voraciously while fucking into you slowly to feel you squirm and twitch around his fat cock. 

his breath is hot and heavy against your skin, his lips on every inch of skin of yours they can reach. it has you lightheaded and dizzy, your cunt fluttering around him and spelling out confessions your mouth wouldn’t say out loud. issei rasps out another laugh, then in one swift movement manhandles you on your back, thighs spread even further for him apart. taking you apart. 

“knew you would make it fit, sweet girl. your pussy was made for me. so wet and needy. all for me, is that right?”

his thumb swipes across your clit, making you squirm and kick. he catches your ankle with his free hand before teasing your clit again, now in slow and featherlight circles, all while his cock stays nestled deep inside of you. 

it is maddening. there–there is this humiliating side of him again. 

“want my cum? want me to stuff you full of it? you’re gonna leak in those pretty little panties for days. that’s what you want, sweet thing? c’mon. say it. use your words.”

issei lifts your legs up to his shoulders before folding you in half, his body weight pinning you down. the way he fucks into you now is earnest, selfishly chasing his own high, knowing you will follow either way from how hard you clench around him. tumbled words slip from your lips, the air taken from your lungs, your fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders.

“that’s my girl. my good girl. fuck, you feel so damn good. knew you would be fucking perfect for me. ‘m gonna cum inside, yeah? you’re gonna take it all. shh… yeah, that’s it. that’s a big one, hm?”

you see stars and outer galaxies, sparks sent from your core throughout your entire body. it’s cute how your eyes glaze over when the waves of your orgasm crash over you, his name buried on your tongue under mewls and moans. issei licks them straight from your mouth. 

his hips slam into you a few more times, harsh thrusts, before he tumbles over the edge after you, his cock stuffed impossibly deep inside of your dripping heat. you pulse around him as if you never want him to pull out, keeping you stuffed all the time. he loves it. next time he’s gonna make you squirt with his fingers alone, he thinks. 

(it would not be any kinder than what he put you through just now though, not with him.)

issei kisses your eyelids and your lips, letting you catch your breath again before he lifts you up in his lap and makes you straddle him again. his cock slips out and you protest with a quiet whine, to which he just laughs and gives your thighs a patronizing squeeze. with two fingers he collects his cum that’s leaking out of you and running down your thighs, stuffing it back in where it belongs. his free hand finds your nape and pulls you into a deep kiss again, tasting himself on your tongue.

“so? what do you say, pretty girl? did it fit?”

It started out like a normal night (doesn't it always?)

The old Inarizaki gang planned the new year get together. Despite being almost a decade out from high school, the crew stayed fairly tight. 

You and Osamu had “officially” started dating in college, but had also been such a pain in the ass for your friends to deal with that you two single handedly merged the boys VBC and girls tennis club during your time at Inarizaki.

It wasn't your fault, though! How were you supposed to know that Osamu sharing his food with you meant something? Sharing food was, like, expected for you, and so, yeah, when he started bringing you your own bento lunches that he made himself, it was totally fair for you to assume that it was friendly!

It doesn't actually matter because during the new year reunion party over the winter break of your freshman year of college, your friends decided to “play” (read as: rig) a game of seven minutes in heaven.

When you and Osamu didn't come out of the twin's bedroom after seven minutes, no one bothered you until the next morning, and that was only to wake you up for food. Atsumu had been the brave soul to come in and find you and Osamu as a lump under the covers, which he proceeded to rip off, much to both of your chagrins.

And, the rest, they say, is history. It's been years at this point, and you couldn't be happier with Osamu as a life partner. He recently opened an Osaka branch of Onigiri Miya, so you both relocated from Tokyo closer to your hometown.

To celebrate, you two offered to host the annual reunion, and if it was so that it would force the two of you to actually unpack those last few boxes and make the apartment presentable, no one needed to know.

“Where the fuck are we gonna put the food processor?”

You love that Osamu cooks for you, truly, but the two of you haven't quite figured out the kitchen set up yet. In other words, the kitchen looks like a tornado recently ripped apart every cupboard and cabinet, bringing every utensil and appliance under the sun and throwing them all in random spots.

“Just put it in our room fer now!” Osamu calls from inside the pantry. He's currently sorting through ingredients for the party starting in approximately ten hours.

“Where's ‘Tsumu? I swear ta God if he doesn't actually come and help out like he said he would…”

Osamu steps out of the pantry, “Ya know that scrub’ll show up whenever he wants. I'm sure if ya call and ask ‘im real nice though, he'll come quicker.” Osamu hugs you from behind and gives you a kiss on your head.

“Sure, sure,” you turn around to get a proper kiss on the lips before opening your message thread with the blond twin. Osamu made these comments sometimes, and you still aren't exactly sure where they come from. It's not like Atsumu is jealous of your relationship with his brother; Atsumu can barely keep someone in his bed for more than a night, and that's how he likes it. There was a time period in high school where you were head over heels for Osamu and way too embarrassed about your “experience” level, so Atsumu had “helped you out.”

(Yes, the irony that some of your “major firsts” were with your current long term partner’s twin brother is not lost on you.)

But either way! You and Atsumu had a totally fine and normal relationship. The two of you bantered and got upset with each other over time spent with Osamu, and only made out a few times throughout college  (there were a few months where Atsumu had dyed his hair back to black, and it was definitely in dark rooms when you couldn't tell) and beyond (of course, the yearly reunions.) Osamu never seemed too upset about the whole thing; usually he would laugh it off, or occasionally wrestle his brother over it, but it never seemed to legitimately bother him, so you didn't let it bother you.

ya wanna see me that bad huh? what, ‘samu not don't enough fer ya?

You roll your eyes at Atsumu’s usually flirtatious nature; Osamu reads the reply over your shoulder and huffs, before grabbing your phone to call his brother.

“Put a damn shirt on, no one wants ta see that!” Osamu exclaims upon Atsumu answering the call.

“Actually, ‘Samu, there are lots of people who would love ta see Miya Atsumu-”

“Shut tha fuck up, I don' care, what I care is if yer gonna get yer lazy ass over here to help us set up or not!”

“Oh shit, wait, that's actually today?” Atsumu's eyes widen, “Yeah, yeah, I'll be over in an hour, see ya, be sure ya got food ready fer me.”

He hangs up.

“Charmin’ as always,” you hum and pluck your phone out of Osamu's hands, “Anyway, what if tha food processor comes to life at night and then tries to food process us as revenge for when we attempted to make hummus and almost broke it? I want time to make an escape so it shouldn't be in the bedroom!”

Osamu laughs, “Well, if tha food processor comes to life, we prob’bly got much bigger issues, love.”

---

“Spin the bottle!” Rika calls out way too enthusiastically for someone in their mid to late twenties.

The clean up and prep for the party had gone smoothly, and by smoothly you mean that it only took you intervening in three Miya twins fight, two separate trips to the store, and one emergency call to your doctor friend to ask if the cut in your finger warranted stitches (it didn't.)

Now, a handful of the alumni from the boys VBC and girls tennis team are scattered around your apartment. Osamu had outdone himself with appetizers and snacks; Atsumu was working at the makeshift bar that was your kitchen table.

Currently, the group was debating what god awful game would be “the game” for the night. Historically, there has been seven minutes in heaven, along with spin the bottle, strip poker, truth or dare (or truth or drink), and a slew of nonsensical games that really only work with people who have known you since before you hit puberty.

“Spin the bottle? What are we, fifteen?” you sneer at Rika, mostly because if you have to watch her and Suna shamelessly make out again only to act like the other doesn’t exist the next morning, you might scream.

“What are ya, scared, princess?” Atsumu walks up behind you and shoves another drink in your face.

You take a sip. It's pretty good, “Ya think that’ll work on me?”

“I dunno, will it?” He snakes an arm around your waist to lean in for a kiss before his brother physically throws him off of you.

“Don't touch ‘er ya scrub!”

You giggle. It was totally fine when Atsumu was hanging all over you during the day, but as soon as Osamu gets a little bit of alcohol in him, he turns more…protective of you.

“I second fer spin tha bottle,” Suna stares directly at Rika as he speaks. Half the room groans.

“Tha two o' ya should jus’ go into tha bedroom and make out since that's what ya want so bad!” Ginjima usually hasn’t participated in these games since he started dating his current partner. The group was fine with him bringing her, but he insisted that it was a reunion and he liked that he had kept contact with the same group. There was something special about having such a deep, shared history.

“NO!” You and Osamu simultaneously yell at once. Partially because you had thrown everything that didn't have a place into your bedroom. Partially because Osamu had insisted that this would be a good opportunity to wash your sex toy collection, meaning most of them were now hanging around your room and drying in various places.

“That's kinda sus, not gonna lie,” Aran has his arm wrapped around Kita, but looks smug, “What’ve y'all got in there that we can't see?”

“Please I don't wanna know,” Atsumu makes a pained noise, “Let's just play spin tha bottle and move on from this conversation, please.”

Half the group cheers, the other half are throwing you and Osamu side eyes and knowing smirks.

“Whatever,” Osamu takes a seat next to Aran, “‘s not like we're eighteen no more and the thought of a dildo or some handcuffs gets us all in a tizzy.” He throws an easy smile as Aran lets out a hearty laugh, and even Kita chuckles.

The fact that when Atsumu went to get edamame from the store (“Ya forgot edamame? What the hell’s tha matter with ya!”), Osamu had insisted on making you cum twice before opening you up and shoving one of your favorite butt plugs up your ass before his twin returned, well, it was just your little secret. 

“Are ya playin’ or what?” Suna looks over at your group sitting on the sofa, who all shrug before moving to the floor where a makeshift circle forms around the coffee table.

You had avoided sitting down too much, obviously, but as your ass hits the floor and you cross your legs, you wince, just slightly.

Osamu throws you a smug look and drops a kiss on your forehead before squeezing part of your butt cheeks.

“Okay! Who wants ta go first!” Atsumu asks, appearing with an empty bottle of soju. He doesn’t wait before chucking it at Suna’s head.

The Olympic athlete manages to catch it, but not without cursing and some fumbling.

Rika laughs and bats her eyelashes at him. You have no idea what's going on between them because if you and Osamu were anything close to that insufferable throughout high school, well, god bless all of your friends who dealt with that.

“Yes,” Osamu leans over and whispers in your ear, “and we were way worse.”

You look at him, startled.

“Love, ya've never hidden an emotion or thought on yer face. Yer an open book,” he kisses your nose.

Someone lets out a whoop and, oh, would you look at that. Rika is straddling Suna while they enthusiastically make out. You couldn't have looked away for more than thirty seconds, but his hands are running up her back, underneath her shirt; her hands are woven into his hair. You roll your eyes.

“Is the game over, then?” you joke, but apparently not, because you recognize the hungry glint in your friends’ eyes.

Here's the thing, the group of you aren't, like, sexual deviants, as some may say. But you all are fairly open about sex and intimacy, you're pretty sure everyone has probably had some sort of sexual experience with each other at some point in their life. It's, like, comforting. And it's also why these games always get chosen. You and Osamu put soft furniture covers over your couch and loveseats for a reason.

The party is just getting started.

Atsumu takes the bottle and gives it a spin with way more force than necessary.

It lands on you.

Osamu huffs and gives you a kiss on the cheek before patting your ass.

“Ugh,” you sigh. Atsumu sticks his tongue out at you and you crawl over into his lap.

Once you're seated, his lips are immediately on you, all tongue and teeth, hands roaming everywhere. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Suna and Rika are also still going at it, with Suna groping her breasts, and Rika grinding down onto him.

Atsumu cups your ass with both of his hands and squeezes. You let out a little surprised noise.

He pulls away for a moment, a line of drool connecting the two of you, “Hmm? Keep ya focus on me, darlin’, not them.” He gives your ass another squeeze, “Didja think I didn't know why ‘Samu forgot the edamame?”

You make another startled noise and pull back even further. Huh?

“Nu-uh, not done with ya yet, babygirl,” Atsumu grabs your face with both of his hands and smashes his mouth against yours. His tongue is licking your teeth, your gums, every inch of the inside of your mouth. He kisses like it's his lifeline, biting and sucking to the point that you think that you're not getting out of this round without a couple of bruises, both on your lips and with the current grip he has around your waist.

You've played this game before. You've made out with Atsumu, and it always feels a bit like playing with fire. You're not quite sure why, but this time is a bit different. Maybe it's the way Osamu edged you to a third orgasm, before you both heard Atsumu's, “I'm back put ya damn clothes back on!” Maybe it was the look in Osamu’s eyes that promised something good after the two of you went to your bedroom for the night. It must be some combination of those two, because there's no other reason you should be feeling like this while making out with Atsumu, that's just good fun, right?

“Give ‘er back,” Osamu's voice breaks through the haze that is Atsumu, and you lean back and look over your shoulder. Atsumu runs his hand up your side and you shiver. His golden eyes darken.

“C’mere, doll,” Osamu gestures for you to join him, which you do. He immediately pulls you into his lap, shoots a glare at his twin brother, and kisses you exactly how you like it.

Soft lips, gentle nibbles, a little bit of tongue, almost teasing. He runs his hands up and down your side before grabbing at one of your breasts, pinching the nipple. You let out a little sigh, feeling the heat in your belly dim from a wildfire to a slow burn.

“Mmmph,” you make a halfhearted disgruntled noise that quickly morphs into a moan as he brings his other hand up to pinch and twist your other nipple.

“‘Kay, we got it, we got it, ya can stop puttin’ on a show now,” Atsumu's voice cuts through. You think that he's talking to Suna and Rika, but when you turn, face flushed, eyes dilated, you find the group's eyes on you.

“Just say yer jealous and move on,” Osamu shoots back, but turns you so that your back is against his chest.

Atsumu sticks out his tongue but nudges Yuka to take her turn.

The rest of the group end up in similar states of disarray as the game continues. Flushes that crawl up and down people's necks, glassy eyes, swollen lips. Not-so-hidden smiles. It's a good time, and everyone is loosening up. You know where this is headed.

You nudge Osamu.

“Okay, ya animals, we're headed off ta bed, don't bother us. Seriously, I'll kill ya if ya so much as knock on the goddamn door. Unless there's a fire. If someone's dyin’ call an ambulance but don't bother us. Y'all can have anything in tha fridge, and just keep things as clean as ya can.”

It's damn near the same speech that every single person has used when they hosted the new year reunion. Have fun, but don't get too messy, and don't bother the host and their partner for the night (who obviously get dibs on the bedroom.)

Osamu essentially drags you down the hallway and into the bedroom before slamming the door shut. Did he lock the door? You don't think that you heard a click, but your entire being is filled up by Osamu that you can't think straight.

The two of you have been together for years, but he always manages to take your breath away. He's all light kisses and sweet touches, until a switch flips and he becomes borderline sadist, making you beg, edging you until you cry, leaving handprints and bruises all over you.

“Ya seemed ya like yer turn with ‘Tsumu,” Osamu mumbles against your lips. You're dazed by his hands gripping at your thighs and tongue tracing the outline of your lips.

“Wha?”

“I said,” Osamu bites down on your lip, hard, “Ya seemed ta enjoy yer time with ‘Tsumu. My brother.”

He flips you over and pulls you against his chest before tweaking both of you nipples. You let out a groan.

“Mmm,” you sigh as he continues to fondle you through your t-shirt, “I mean, I was mostly thinkin’ o' ya and what yer gonna do ta me.”

Osamu halts his hands, you keen, but he ignores you and asks, “Mostly?”

Oh, fuck, you said that, hadn't you?

“I mean-” you try to back peddle but your brain isn't keeping up with your mouth.

“Hmm, okay, ya little slut, maybe ya want botha us? Is that it? If yer mostly thinkin' o’ me, that means yer at least kinda thinkin’ bout him, huh?”

You're not exactly sure where he's going with this, so you say your safe word.

Osamu immediately drops his hands and turns you around.

“What's up, doll?” You can see his eyes are still a little hazy, but he's looking at you seriously, “No name callin’ tonight?”

“I just,” you're not actually sure, “I dunno. Is this, uh, a thing?”

“‘s what a thing?”

“Uh,” you cringe because this hasn't ever been a thing. Usually it's just goofing around with Atsumu, all under the watchful eye of Osamu (and all of your closest friends). No sneaking around, no feelings, just pleasure and a good time.

“Do ya wanna fuck ‘im?” Osamu's eyes are serious.

“Whaddya mean?”

“I'm askin’, would ya fuck ‘Tsumu?”

You can't get a good read on him, but your instincts are telling you that this isn't some kind of test. You've been partners with the younger Miya for years, and if there's one thing you've learned, it's that honesty is truly the best policy for him.

“Yeah,” you're even a little surprised by your answer, “I mean, with ya here, too, obviously. I mean. Ya know. Or not-!”

Osamu is on top of you, pushing you back onto your back, leaving hickies down your neck.

“‘Samu, what-?”

“Let ‘im, let ‘im fuck ya. I wanna watch. Please, fuck, please I wanna watch ya be fucked by someone but I don't trust nobody else.”

Well, that could probably be unpacked at some point. Not now, though.

Instead, you say, “Okay, yeah, fuck, let's do it.”

Osamu leaves what will be a particularly large bruise on your collarbone before sitting up and sending a text.

Almost immediately, the door opens to reveal a disheveled blond.

“Are ya serious?” He looks between the two of you. You look at Osamu, he looks at you. You both turn and nod at Atsumu.

“Fuck yes, oh my god, I've been wanting to get inside ya again ferever,” he's on his knees in front of the bed in a second, “Please lemme taste ya, fuck, I've been dreamin’ about the way ya taste fer years.”

Osamu chuckles.

“Fuck ya, how'd ya get so lucky, ‘Samu, goddamn.”

You forgot that Atsumu was chatty in the bedroom. You had assumed it may have been his teenage self when you two were first messing around, but apparently not.

Before you know what's happening, Osamu has your t-shirt over your head, thrown to the side, and Atsumu drags your pants and underwear down and off of you.

Osamu pushes you forward, so your legs hang off the bed, but your back is against his chest. The plug shifts with all of the movement and you let out a low sigh.

“Huh, we haven't even, oh,” Atsumu's eyes go wide as Osamu grabs around you to pull your knees up to your chest, bending you in half, and revealing what's been shoved up your ass for the past few hours.

“Fuck,” Atsumu breathes out before grabbing the handle and pulling.

You let out an animalistic groan.

“Look at her pretty little asshole,” Atsumu's eyes are almost black, with their signature honey gold only a thin ring around his dilated pupils, “I dunno where to start, honestly.”

“Here, have some fun,” Osamu tosses something to Atsumu and oh, it's the vibrating butt plug that you just cleaned, and the bottle of lube kept on your nightstand.

Something clicks in your head, but the thought is immediately lost as Atsumu hastily pours an absurd amount of lube on the toy before shoving it up your ass and turning it on.

You groan.

Even when Osamu is being rougher, he's always measured in everything he does. Atsumu just, like, does things. It all feels very frantic. You lose your train of thought again as Atsumu's mouth latches onto your clit and he sucks.

“Oh, fuck, ‘Tsumu, oh my god,” you breathe out some more garbled versions of his name.

Osamu still has you with your knees up, but he's snaked his arms behind your knees so that he can play with your nipples. He knows this drives you up the wall.

“Mmm, oh, ‘Tsumu…mmmm, ‘Samu~”

The duality of feather light touches on your top half, with Osamu whispering what a good girl you are into your ear, and Atsumu seemingly randomly hitting different settings on the plug and alternating between sucking your clit and licking and biting your inner thighs, has you cumming in only a few moments.

As Osamu watches you start to tighten your entire body, he switches from light touches to neck bites and firm pinches to your nipples.

Atsumu is too involved in eating you out to notice, but he does realize that you're clenching a bit more.

“Fuck, I gotta feel ya,” he mutters almost too quietly for you to hear, and then he has two fingers shoved into you and is sucking onto your clit for dear life.

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and you let out a heady moan, feeling yourself clench around the toy and around Atsumu's fingers. He continues to suck your clit through it all, and Osamu doesn't ease up his ministrations on your breasts.

You're heaving, slightly overstimulated, and try to wriggle away.

“There's nowhere ta go, doll,” Osamu whispers in your ear.

“I hope she ain't done yet, ‘Samu,” Atsumu wipes his mouth and looks up at you through ridiculously long eyelashes.

“That's right, love, we're just gettin’ started,” Osamu shifts do you're lying on your back, looking at him upside down, “Wanna play a game, doll?”

You're still recovering from the mind blowing orgasm, and Atsumu is still kissing and stroking your inner thighs. Your thoughts are murky.

“Huh?”

“A game.” Osamu disappears from your view for a second before reappearing with a blindfold, “Let’s see how well ya know yer partner o’ almost a decade from his twin brother.”

“Wow, she musta liked that,” Atsumu pulls his fingers out from you after feeling you clench around him at Osamu’s words.

“Is that a yes, darlin’?” Osamu gives you an even look. You nod.

“Jesus,” Atsumu lets out a low whistle, “I’m not jealous of all o’ that romantic shit ya gotta do, but fuck, what I wouldn’t do ta have her in my bed every night.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, ya dumb fuck.” You turn to glare at the blond, but find yourself nose to nose with him.

“Hmmm?” he gives you a sleazy smile before grabbing the back of your neck and slamming his lips into yours. The kiss is fierce and hot, he’s lapping at your mouth like a parched dog, but you find that you don’t mind. His hands have found their way to your sides, running up and down slowly, in contrast to the feverish way his lips seem to be devouring you.

While you’re distracted, Osamu ties the blindfold around you, snugly. The silky material is familiar to you, but you’re feeling more vulnerable than usual.

“Babygirl,” Atsumu pulls back, and you try to blink open your eyes, only to be met with darkness, “You don’ even know how good ya look, walkin’ ‘round in yer t-shirt with no bra on. Those perky nipples just beggin’ ta get played with, sucked on, maybe.”

A warm mouth latches onto one of your nipples, while a hand comes up to cup your other breast. The mouth seems much too soft to be Atsumu, but the way he’s touching you isn’t quite like Osamu either. Just as you’re about to open your mouth, you feel another mouth on the back of your neck, kissing down your spine.

“How do ya feel ‘bout playin’ a game?” Osamu whispers in your ear. That’s definitely Osamu.

“Yeah, wanna guess who’s who? It’ll be fun.” Wait, is that Osamu, in your other ear?

Fuck.

You nod tentatively.

You are lifted into the air and set down on someone’s lap. You instinctively grind down against the soft material of sweatpants. Which one of them was wearing sweatpants again? Your mind is swimming with pleasure.

Whoever you’re sitting on shimmies their sweatpants down, and takes your wrists to set them on his chest.

“Wanna take a guess, darlin’?” Usually that was Osamu’s pet name for you, but you distinctly remember Atsumu using it earlier.

You run your hands up and down one of the twin’s chests, when you get to his hipbone, you feel a mole on the left side.

“‘Samu~” you moan out, grinding down onto your boyfriend’s dick.

“That’s right, doll,” he lifts you up and you feel the tip of his dick sliding against the slick that’s been gathering on your folds. You grind down and whine as he pulls himself away.

“No, darlin’, you don’t gotta do no work, just be our pretty little thing, yeah?”

That’s Atsumu. You can feel his dick dragging up and down the crevice of your ass. 

You can’t help but shiver.

“That’s right, baby, you just have to relax,” Osamu whispers in your ear and coaxes you back onto his swollen tip.

You instinctively shove your hips down, taking him down to the hilt.

“Fuck, ‘Samu, Jesus Christ, you get to hit this every day? Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

Oh, so Atsumu was underneath you.

You grind down against his pelvis bone. He’s hitting your cervix.

Atsumu huffs out a laugh, “Would ya look at that, ‘Samu, she recognizes yer voice but not yer dick, huh?”

You have a comeback right at the tip of your tongue, but Atsumu pulls you up off of him before slamming you back down.

You scream.

“That’s right, darlin’, ya like that? That feel good?” Atsumu is holding you up slightly, absolutely railing you. You go to place your hands on his chest, but Osamu wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you at what would be a near impossible angle for you to hold yourself at.

“‘Tsumu, slow down fer a minute, will ya?”

“Why tha fuck would I do that?” Atsumu pants in between each word. “She feels so fuckin’ good. So tight, so warm, so wet. I could fuck this little pussy for days.”

Atsumu keeps up his brutal pace, while you’re at his mercy, being held up by Osamu.

“Fuck, look at the way her tits bounce like that, fuck.” Atsumu’s hands are digging into your hips so hard, and Osamu suddenly changes his grip so that he can pinch at your nipples. You let out a low groan.

“‘Samu, do that again, whatever you do, she’s clenchin’ so good around me, fuck, I think I’m gonna-” Atsumu lets out a frustrated groan, and you feel yourself pulled off of his cock.

You let out a frustrated groan as well.

“‘Samu~” you whine, “Why~”

“Not so fast, doll, be patient. Tha both of ya.”

Before you can ask what’s going on, you feel Osamu’s dick prodding at your asshole.

“Mmm, ‘Samu~” you push your hips back, and hear Atsumu hiss through his teeth, “Can I take the blindfold off? Please?”

Osamu pauses, and you feel the fabric slip off of your face.

You’re not ready to look down at a flushed, fucked out Miya Atsumu. Hair a mess (you don’t even remember running your hands through his hair?), blush spreading across his cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes looking predatory. Looking down at his throbbing cock, you have no idea how the hell that fit inside of you, but you say that every time you take an extra second to really look at Osamu. You can’t even tell his eyes are golden with how blown out his pupils are.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Atsumu’s sends you a sleazy grin that would be more effective if he wasn’t so pussydrunk.

“Fuckin’ scrub…” Osamu mutters before slowly easing his way into your ass. You clench around him subconsciously, causing him to let out a low groan, “I forget how tight ya are, babydoll. Fuck me, oh my god.” 

Atsumu is looking up at you with wide eyes as Osamu sinks deeper and deeper into you. One of his arms is wrapped all the way around your waist, Atsumu’s hands still holding your hips.

He bottoms out and leans over to bite your shoulder, stifling another groan.

Atsumu looks up at your face, watery eyes, drool coming out of your mouth. Your hair is a wreck, and your eyes are completely unfocused. He can’t help it. He lines himself up with you and slams back into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! ‘Tsumu, ‘Samu, fuck, yer so fuckin’ big,” you clench around both of them, causing them to let out very similar moans.

And then they’re both pounding into you. Relentlessly. They’re somehow able to sync up so that one of you is in you at all times, despite the brutal pace, you either have a dick up your ass or bruising your cervix. You’re absolutely losing your mind, you have never felt this full, you’ve never felt like this ever. You’re lucky that you have an Olympic athlete and a Onigiri Miya restaurant-owner holding you up because at this point you feel like a rag doll.

“Fuck, fuck, ‘Samu, she’s so fuckin’ tight, Jesus, fuck, I can’t, fuck, I’m gonna-”

Osamu slams into you so hard that it breaks the pace and Atsumu slides out of you.

He howls.

“Fuck ya! I swear ta fuckin’ god if ya don’t let me fuckin’ cum inside over her I’m gonna kill ya right now, fuck ya so much, lemme fuck ‘er right!” Atsumu tries to pull your hips closer, but Osamu has completely switched your position so that you’re bent over Atsumu, tits in his face, as Osamu rails you from behind. His grunts are much quieter than Atsumu’s blabbering, but you can tell from the stutters in his hips that he’s close, as well.

“I want ya both ta come in me, fuck, please.” The only thing you can think of is being completely filled up by both of the twins.

Osamu pauses, then lets out a feral noise. His pause is just enough for Atsumu to realign his dick with your now dripping opening; he rams back into you.

The pace is off now, not quite as in sync, but like fuck if you care. Atsumu is whimpering about how good you feel and how he’s so close, but all it takes to send you over the edge is Osamu leaning forward to whisper good girl in your ear.

You didn’t even realize it was that kind of orgasm until you feel yourself gushing all over Atsumu’s dick.

“Oh my god, fuck, she squirts? ‘Samu, fuuuuck,” Atsumu keeps talking as he feels you spasm around him, milking him of his own orgasm. His words become more like incoherent babbles.

Osamu doesn’t give you more than a few grunts and a bite to the side of your neck as he empties himself into you, as well.

For a moment, there’s silence. You can feel your own liquids and Atsumu’s slowly slipping out of you and down your leg. As Osamu slowly pulls himself out, you can feel his cum running down your thighs, as well.

“Get out,” Osamu pulls you off of Atsumu and onto your sides. He kicks Atsumu’s leg.

“What the fuck, man? Gimme a second,” Atsumu’s staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

“I’m serious, get the fuck out,” Osamu kicks his twin a little harder.

Atsmu makes a noise of protest, but rolls over and off the bed before grabbing his clothes. He turns around and throws you a wink, “Lemme know if ya ever wanna go again, yeah?”

“Get tha fuck out!” Osamu throws a pillow at his older brother, and Atsumu leaves, cackling.

After he shuts the door, you turn to Osamu, “So…”

“So?” He looks at you sleepily.

“Let’s take a shower and talk about this tomorrow,” you cradle his face and kiss his nose. He makes an adorable noise that he most certainly would rather die than have anyone besides you hear, but ultimately swings his legs off the edge and picks you up princess style to carry you to the bathroom.

---

The next morning, you wake up wrapped up in Osamu’s arms. You’re a little sore, but nothing unmanageable. Most of your body is covered in bruises.

Osamu is lightly snoring next to you, so you make your way back out to the living room wearing one of his old shirts.

You run into the blond Miya twin, in the kitchen, making coffee. A few of your friends are still sprawled in various duos and trios around your living room floor.

“Fancy meetin’ ya here, darlin’,” Atsumu shamelessly looks you up and down, “Ya were limpin’ a lil bit out here, ya feelin’ okay today?”

You sneer at him before getting down a coffee mug and holding it out to him. He fills it up to the brim, just to be a brat.

The two of you stand side by side in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. There’s amicable silence. You look over at Rika and Suna wrapped up around each other and mentally sigh at the amount of debriefing you will no doubt be doing with your friend later that day.

“What’s that sayin’, again?” Atsumu turns to look at you. You look back at him inquisitively.

“Hm?”

The suggestive smile on her face lets you know that Shadowheart would absolutely not mind you sitting at camp shirtless, for all to see. Then again, given how godsdamned horny everyone at camp was, you doubted anyone would have genuine complaints about seeing more nudity.

"If it's warmer one of these nights, I could be persuaded. But enough with the jokes. Where the hell are my clothes?"

"Did you forget to collect them after washing them?" Shadowheart suggests. "You tend to pack up in a hurry."

"That's the thing. Everything that's missing is something I put away to wash. I usually wash a bunch of my clothes in one go." You scowl. "Who the hell steals dirty clothes?"

"From what I hear, there's a market for that back in Baldur's Gate." She quips. "Maybe leave a donation basket beside your clothes next time, whoever's been taking them might leave something."

"It better be a large donation. At this rate, all my gold's going to go into clothes shopping. I was saving up for a better pair of boots, mine are slowly wearing out." You rub your temple in frustration and let out a groan. "It's not just normal clothes, either. My undergarments, too!"

"Are you suggesting...?"

"Yes, I am suggesting we have a panty sniffer at camp, Shadowheart. It's an easier-to-digest explanation than the idea that the tadpole has eaten so much of my brain I consistently leave a trail of underwear behind."

You're not even sure if you find the thought that someone at camp was stealing your worn panties discomforting or not. With how open everyone is, they could've at least asked, or have the courtesy of restraining themselves a bit instead of stealing more than half of your comfortable wardrobe.

"Who do you think it is?" Shadowheart asks. She's both intrigued and amused, now, both at your expense.

"None of you ladies, that's for sure," you say. "Karlach couldn't keep that secret for long, Lae'zel has told me to my face she wants to sniff me and probably would drag me away the second I consent, and you wouldn't waste your time stealing my clothes if you were interested. You'd just lure me away with a bottle of wine."

Which is what happened last time you and her had stolen away for a little privacy. Shadowheart had a directness that you liked, clearly expressing her wants and desires, and directing you as she needed. It had been a very fun night, but it had let you know that she wasn't the type for strange, secretive games - at least not when it came to fun things like that.

"Quite true. So it's just our boys then?"

"Yeah. Better not be Withers."

She snorts. "He doesn't even have a nose to sniff your underwear with."

"He still has the holes for sniffing, though."

You both break out into giggles at that. Withers would be the least likely option, but the idea that this ancient walking corpse is a secret little pervert is too funny to imagine.

"I think it's Gale," you then say, once the two of you have calmed down. "He's been awfully bold in telling me he likes my...musk, after not having bathed a while. Wyll doesn't seem the type for something like that, he's just too sweet, Halsin's far to open about disliking clothes for him to hide this, and Astarion..."

You trail off. Shadowheart, however, knows well where this is going, and finishes your thought for you.

"Astarion's up close and personal with you all the time, so he has no need to steal your things."

You hum in affirmation. Astarion barely leaves your side, the two of you thick as thieves.

Shadowheart lets out a sigh.

"Well, then. Why not ask Astarion to give you a little space to put poor Gale out of his misery. Let him partake in what he's so desperately desiring?"

"Eh, I would, but..."

You pause. It's not like you <i>hadn't</i> thought about it, as if you'd never let your mind drift to wonder what Gale might look like beneath you, face and beard drenched in your slick. However...

"...anytime he tries to flirt with me, he somehow ends up bringing up his ex, and that's where my pussy essentially packs it up and leaves."

"Oh, ouch..."

____________

As you and Shadowheart continue to gossip about your possible panty-stealer, as well as Gale's so far unsuccessful attempts to woo you, in the tent beside you, Astarion curls up on his bedroll, happy as a clam.

He'd overheard your conversation, scoffing internally at the suggestion that Gale of all people was the one responsible for your clothing disappearing. As if Gale had the necessary skill, swiftness, and stealth, to pull that off without you ever catching him. If Gale tried, he'd probably trip and fall over his own robes before even catching a glimpse of your clothes.

Astarion is pleased with today's 'catch' - the shirt you wore underneath your robes yesterday - and happily adds it to his pile of you-themed treasures. He has his own little collection, now, consisting of small items he'd nicked off of you, as well as your clothes. He'd arranged those around his bedroll, adding padding and warmth, and most importantly, your scent.

Astarion writhes amongst the pile of fabric, letting out a happy, vampiric purr. He nuzzles his face into the pile, inhaling your natural perfume deeply into his chest.

Gods, he would never get enough of this.

It had started innocently enough. After your first romp in the woods at the tiefling party, Astarion had gotten so eager he'd torn your shirt clean off. So he'd graciously offered his own for you to wear as you snuk back to camp, him staying behind to pack up the bedroll he prepared the night before.

Amongst your scattered things, he'd found your torn shirt, and hadn't been able to help himself. He'd taken a deep whiff, smelling your natural scent immersed in the fabric, but his mind turned blank when he could distinctly sniff out your wanton arousal from hours earlier.

He'd arrived at camp late, having taken the time to desperately fuck his own fist with his face buried in your shirt.

He was about to go for another round as well, the sight of you wearing his shirt for all to see, as well as his own scent marking your skin as his proving to be near overwhelming. There was no time for that, though, as the Underdark was already beckoning.

Astarion had gotten more than enough time to wallow in your aroma, for you had chosen to stick very, very close to him when you were roaming around down there.

Ever since, he had taken his time to snatch a few of your belongings here and there.

He has a collection of clothes that you wore in differing emotional states, able to distinguish by your scent what it is you are feeling at any given moment. He'd found old cloth bandages you still had from after killing those goblins, your blood soaked through the fabric. He'd snatched a couple of your undergarments, heady with the scent of your arousal, from nights when he teased you just a bit too much.

His favourite is still your torn shirt, however, which he keeps rolled up by his pillow. He can smell you in his trance, and feels so warm, safe, and protected in your scent.

Your scent is the reason he prefers coming to your tent at night, your aroma covering every inch of space. Astarion feels as if he could get drunk off of you - hells, in a way, he does, especially when you let him feed.

He also loves it when he can smell himself on you. It's why he leaves you his shirts to wear, especially since you complained to him how you were running low on them. That way, he could stay in your good graces - after all, he was being helpful - he could leave his scent on your skin, and get his shirt back with yours embedded in it. Win-win.

He'll never admit how his undead heart soared when he overheard the others asking if you'd started adding bergamot to your perfume.

Gods, he hopes you never find out about this habit. He's greedy for you and he knows, but the more rational part of hin is also aware that any normal person would be terribly put off by this.

Astarion convinces himself you'll never catch on that it's him stealing your things, happy to keep his face burrowed in your scent.

____________

"There is no fucking way."

Once again, it's Shadowheart hearing your cry of disbelief. She approaches to find you digging through a tiny pile of clothing, desperately searching for something.

Before moving on to Moonrise Towers, you had decided to make use of the (admittedly, very ominous) water surrounding Last Light Inn to wash your clothing - what little of it you have left. You (rather embarrassingly) had to ask Karlach to lend you a pair of undergarments at this point - all of yours besides one had disappeared.

And this one, remaining pair of panties had straight-up vanished now, too.

"What happened? Did Gale nick another pair?" Shadowheart asks, amused.

"I don't think it was Gale, after all," you say. "It was my last pair. I wore it while going to the lake. I didn't see Gale again until breakfast, he retired early to read, remember?"

Shadowheart hums in agreement. "Strange. Are you sure you didn't leave it there?"

"It was my last pair, Shadowheart, and the lake isn't exactly far from camp. I did not drop or leave it. I've walked back and forth three times, now."

You are ready to flip and tear apart each and every tent at camp to find your clothing. If this was a prank, it was a shitty one at that, one you were ready to reward with a hearty Fireball. See how funny the prankster thinks it is, then.

"Okay, if Gale isn't your thief, and you didn't lose it - where are they then?"

This clothes-stealing mystery is the most entertainment Shadowheart has had at camp. It's infuriating and intriguing at once.

"I don't know..."

Your blood runs cold as you try and retrace your steps. A realization dawns on you, and you want to slap yourself for not thinking of it earlier.

That little bloodsucker. Of course it was him.

"I have a lead," you declare to her, before you turn and go to find your dearest vampling, leaving Shadowheart, once again, amused and confused at the same time.

____________

Astarion is blissfully unaware of your realizations.

He's far too busy obsessing over his recent catch, the pair of panties he swiftly stole from you when he had pestered you earlier. He couldn't help himself, really! You'd been barely wrapped up from the waist down in a flimsy cloth, in lieu of a suitable pair of comfortable pants, and he'd been able to smell that you weren't wearing anything beneath them. When he'd spotted your underwear, well...a little bit of sleight of hand, and oops! How'd those get in his pocket?

Surely, you're not missing them. A pretty thing like you must have other, lovelier undergarments to wear, hidden away in your things. His little habit is certainly is no inconvenience to you.

But how his hobby affects you is the last thing on his mind right now. He has his face buried in his latest treasure, quick sniffs filling his nose with your heady aroma, so sweet, so intoxicating. Astarion rids himself of his shirt, the heat flushing through his body at your scent too hot to bear, and his free hand is slowly trailing down his breeches, his cock hardening at the scent of you.

Hells, you smell so, so good.

Astarion shuffles his breeches down his legs, his cock springing free against the cool air in his tent. He's hard enough that he feels like he could burst any second, pure arousal coursing through his veins.

He inhales deeply, pressing your panties against his face as tightly as he possibly can. His mind is on overdrive, all he can think about is you, you, you. Nothing else matters as long as he is this close to you.

Astarion begins stroking himself, thumb spreading the generous amounts of leaking precum across the head of his cock. He's aware of what he said, that he wanted to take things slow with you sexually, but in this moment, he wishes his hand was yours instead.

Astarion imagines you with him, your plush lips slowly wrapping around his length, taking him into your hot mouth. His tent would be flooded with the scent of your arousal, and his mind would go blank at the sensation of you.

He wants all of you. He wants you in any which way you'll let him have you. He wants to kiss and lick every inch of your skin, until your scent never leaves his body again, imprinting your essence in his very soul. Astarion thrusts up into his hand, picturing you bouncing above him, writhing in your own pleasure.

He is so far gone, he doesn't even notice you slip in to his tent until it's too late.

"Astarion, did you- what in the hells?!"

The sound of your voice makes whatever is left of his soul ascend from his body, but having your scent, your real, natural scent up close is enough to slam it right back into place. It shocks him into an orgasm, his hips thrusting into his fist uncontrollably as he spills his seed over his chest and belly. One particular strong spurt even manages to hit his chin and throat. Astarion lets out a high whine, whimpering at his own touch, your scent, both from your panties, and from you being here.

It's the hottest thing you've seen in a while, and you'd be more than eager to encourage it, if you still weren't so confused as to what the fuck was going on.

It takes a moment after his climax for Astarion's rational brain to switch on again. He panicks.

"It's not what it looks like!" He says quickly, fumbling to cover himself and the rest of your belongings. You stop him, easily grabbing his wrist.

"Oh? So you didn't just rub one out with my panties stuffed over your face?" You raise a brow at him and he shrinks under your gaze, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You vaguely gesture at the pile of clothing underneath him. "And I'm sure those aren't my missing clothes? You know, the ones I have been complaining about to you for days? What are you even doing? Nesting? Is that a thing vampires do?"

Embarassment floods him at being caught red-handed, and deflection takes its place in hopes of somehow coming out on top anyway.

"You leave your mess everywhere," Astarion huffs. "I was simply picking up after you."

"Mhm. And adding to the mess, if this-" you pick up another item of clothing, one that has suspicious white stains streaked across it, "-is any indication."

Shit. That didn't go how it was supposed to. Astarion tries a new angle, one that he's far too used to.

"Are you upset then? That Gale isn't the panty thief you hoped for?" Astarion says, accentuating his words with a snarl. "I heard you talking with Shadowheart the other day. I wonder if you would be so upset if it was your precious wizard with his face buried in your clothes."

You know him too well by now to take the bait and shoot him a disapproving look.

"Okay, first off, there is no need to take that tone with me," you say, sitting down beside him. "Secondly, what the hell are you even talking about?"

Astarion scoffs, about to spew more venom your way, but you cut him off.

"I'm not done talking, you will speak when I'm finished."

Your firm tone is enough to shut him up for now. Astarion flinches at the sharpness in your voice. You hate being so direct with him, knowing it speaks to parts of his mind that cannot help but obey, but you also know if you don't make him listen, nothing good will come out of this conversation. You know he feels cornered, and like a scared animal, he knows no better than to lash out.

"Of course I'd be upset if I caught Gale with my clothes, because frankly? This is fucking weird. Difference being, I'm used to you being weird and a bit of a creep. You tried biting me in my sleep. You rub yourself all over me like a big cat regularly."

Astarion bristles at being called 'weird'. He wants you to smell like him, he wants to smell like you, so no matter who else you might frolic around with, they always will know you're already in some way spoken for. But he waits, stays silent, eventhough he wants nothing more than to interrupt you.

"I'm not outright angry with you, so you're not going to get a shouting match from me. I'm annoyed that you left me with no clothes to wear, frustrated that you simply played along when I complained about it, confused as to why you stole my clothes, and upset." You pause to look him in the eye. His pupils are still blown wide - clearly, you being close to him has done nothing to soothe whatever is driving him. "I'm upset you didn't talk to me about this. We agreed to talk more openly about what we need from each other. That would include this because clearly, you're getting some kind fulfillment out of this. Why didn't you say anything?"

You give him time to sort his thoughts. You know he's not good at expressing what he needs honestly, so you want to give him the space to at least try. Astarion scoffs, but you can see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to get some sort of explanation out.

"I took your clothes because they smell like you," he begins carefully. "I like making you wear my clothes, because then you smell like me. I like having your clothes here, because having your scent around me is...comforting."

He looks up at you, and you can see the embarrassment in his eyes.

"I didn't say anything because, yes. Objectively, me sniffing at your clothes like a dog is creepy and weird. And I am sorry."

His confession weighs heavy to him. He still thinks you're about to curse him out, tell him he's too strange and feral to waste your time on.

You surprise him, once again.

"Thank you for your honesty, Starlight. The scent part makes sense, I suppose. I like wearing your shirts because they smell like you, too. Just - don't steal my clothes anymore, okay? I'll even cut you a deal."

Astarion nods, waiting for you to go on.

"Tomorrow, you're going to wash all of my clothes - every single item in this pile."

Astarion is about to protest. Washing your clothes would defeat the purpose! They'd no longer smell like you, would be neutral, scentless!

"Then, you're going to procure me a few items you like seeing me in. I'll wear them for you, and then you can have them for your little nest here. I can sleep in your bedroll for a few days too, if it helps, or leave you a blanket of mine. Then you never steal from my wardrobe again and leave me with so little to wear that I need to ask others for their damn underpants. Sound good?"

That is far too good to be true, so Astarion accepts eagerly.

"If that is the deal you wish to make, I suppose I have no choice but to accept," he says. "Though I already mourn the state of my nails afterwards."

"You've left me with no clothes, I think you can play washerwoman for a night. Might even get you a cute little dress for when you're at it."

The both of you have a laugh at the thought. You know full well Astarion would likely make a show out of it if you made him wear a dress, hiking his skirts up while you would have to remind him to actually get your garments cleaned.

Astarion's mood is visibly lifting. You're not mad at him, not about to abandon him for his feral tendencies. His mind buzzes pleasantly, his treasure still safely by his side.

"One more thing - and may I?"

You hover your hand over his chest, waiting until Astarion nods his assent. You run your fingertips over his skin gently, lazily smearing his seed across his body.

"I don't think you're sorry at all."

"I'm the perfect picture of repentance and regret, my love, how could you ever say that?" Astarion protests, albeit weakly. He already apologized!

You crack a smile at his act.

"You're still hard as a rock, my dearest," you say, making him inhale sharply as you drag your nails across one of his nipples. "Anyone with even an ounce of shame would not be so blatantly turned on after being caught like this. Then again, I suppose I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to you being my primary partner, you little freak."

You raise your hand to your lips and suck the remnants of his come off your digits. Astarion watches you swallow, the motion of your throat, before bolting up to capture your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He has to sample it, needed to taste both his seed combined with your spittle.

He loves it.

Astarion moans against your lips, the taste overwhelming. His tongue delves into your mouth, trying to lick up every last bit of himself. Gods, he could eat you <i>whole</i>, and he knows you'd let him. His senses perk up at a new scent - he can smell the slickness between your legs properly now that the shock of being caught has subsided.

"I knew it," he says breathlessly after he releases you. "You're not angry with me. You liked seeing me like this."

"Oh, I'm still very much annoyed that you stole ninety percent of my very limited wardrobe." You laugh as Astarion tears the cloth around your waist - your makeshift skirt - off your body and begins loosening the lacings of your shirt, one that happens to be his. "But, in the spirit of honesty - I did find it kind of hot to see you jerking off to my panties. I had half a mind to stuff them in your filthy mouth."

"Kind of?" Astarion noses at your bared body, nuzzling and sniffing at you in quick breaths. "Darling, you're positively drenched. You enjoyed seeing me, didn't you?"

He lays back down and maneuvers you to sit right above his face. He licks up the inside of your thighs, your slick having slowly spread across your skin, indisputable proof of your arousal. He wants to hear it, though, hear it from your lips how badly you need him, too.

"I did." The admission comes easy to you, and you see no reason to lie. Not when his face is buried between your legs, his cool breath fanning over your core. "You were such a desperate, needy thing. Of course, I liked seeing you."

Astarion seems to be happy with your confession and pulls you down to rest on his face. His tongue trails over your cunt, teasing at your dripping hole. You keen when he finally wraps his lips around your clit and laps at it like a man parched, your legs squeezing around his head. It's almost too much at once - Astarion is far too intoxicated by your scent, being right by the tantalizing source of it to care for a slow build-up. He wants more of you, more of your juices, running down his face.

He's convinced he could spend eternity between your legs and still not have his fill.

Astarion's cock twitches at the fantasy, of you by his side forever, ready to be devoured as he pleases. Of course, he'd be just as accessible to you - he's ready to grant your every wish, if only he can be this close to you and never have to let you go. He speeds up, leaving fast licks on your swollen clit, and he groans as he laves his tongue over your entrance. More, more, more, he chants in his mind, and shoves two fingers inside, digging for your sweet spot. He knows he's found it when you let out a sharp curse, and your glorious, soft thighs tighten around head again.

Astarion sounds absolutely obscene beneath you. He slurps at your cunt, moaning as if he's lapping at the most luxurious dessert he's ever tasted. You suppress a laugh. Not even when he feeds on you does he sound like this.

You decide he's gone untouched long enough. His cock is flushed bright red and leaking, desperate for even the slightest bit of attention. How could you refuse? You lean forwards, and Astarion instantly notices what you're up to.

"May I, Starlight?" You ask, and before you can even wrap your hand around him, Astarion lets out a muffled "Sweet hells, yes!" against you. You tut at him for his impatience, but ultimately take pity on him, leaving a trail of kisses down his shaft, wetting the soft skin with your tongue as you go. Astarion's undead heart leaps in his chest. He'd never in a thousand years believed he'd ever be blessed with someone like you, who would take their time asking permission to touch him even when he was nose-deep buried in their pussy.

Your lips finally, finally wrap around the head of his cock, your tongue dipping into the slit at the top just to tease. Astarion snarls at you, grazing his fangs across your skin. A warning.

You decide to be just a little bit mean back, besides, he <i>was</i> the one who had stolen your clothes. He has no room to be bossy right now.

The tadpole in your brain awakens, eager to connect with his. Astarion is so distracted, he doesn't even notice his own tadpole stir in return. Through your bond, you send him an image - it's him, his wrists bound by one of your shirts, your panties shoved into his mouth, while you nonchalantly get off of him and retreat to your tent.

Astarion lets out a needy whimper.

You wouldn't, you hear him in your mind. you'd never.

I absolutely would, you reply as you swallow down his cock, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you suck. He feels like velvet on your tongue, in his usual icy-cold way, but you can't get enough of him, either. I'll leave you here to rut against your bedroll alone if you want to be a brat like this.

No, no, no!

Astarion loops his arms around your thighs, locking you in position. There's no way to fight your way out of his grip, his vampiric strength easily overpowering you. Besides, with the way your legs feel like jelly, fighting him would be futile anyway.

I'm not letting you go until you come all over my face.

He adds a third finger, digits curling inside you, as he mercilessly sucks at your clit.

You'll cum for me, won't you? You hear him echo in your mind. Please? I want you to cum all over my tongue, want to taste you so bad. Please, my love? Pretty please?

Hells, you can't recall if he ever begged you so sweetly for something. It's overwhelming, the pleading in your mind, his lips ravaging your cunt, the feel of his cock on your tongue, and fuck, you can feel his thumb tease at your tight pucker, carefully dipping into your backside. It's so much, too much, and you draw back from his cock to cry out his name like a prayer as you drench his face in your release, white-hot ecstasy shooting through your body. Astarion, greedy creature that he is, laps it up eagerly. Your legs shake around him and he holds you steady, forcing more of your juices down his throat.

You roll off of him and collapse onto your back beside him once you come down from your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your laboured breaths. Both your tadpoles are quiet, now, exhausted from whatever ecstatic chemicals had been rushing through your brain.

"Fuck," you gasp out. "That was..."

"...amazing," Astarion finishes for you. He's nowhere near done with you, you notice, as he sits up to run his hands up your sides affectionately. "Are you alright to keep going, pet?"

"Mhm. I'm so blissed-out and boneless, I'm happy with whatever salacious plans you have for me now," you breathe, smiling up at him. He still looks so eager, like a predator waiting to pounce. "Take your pleasure from me, Starlight. I think you've waited long enough."

That's all the encouragement he needs from you, not even pausing to wipe his face before he scrambles to get on top of you. Astarion hooks your leg on his thigh, spreading you open for him. His cock slides up against your slit, and he runs it over you a few times, coating himself in your slick.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," he says. "You've been flitting through my dreams. You're a cruel thing, you know that, pet?"

"Sure, I do," you reply, cupping his cheek in your hand. "You wouldn't like me as much if I were a blushing bride, now would you?"

"No, I suppose I wouldn't." Astarion pauses to press a kiss to your palm. "I prefer you like this, clever, wicked, and absolutely debauched."

With that, he slams into you to the hilt without warning. You don't even want one, you just want him to rut you like he's a beast in heat, the noise of your joined bodies music to your ears. You moan loudly, and you swear that, through your tadpole, you can hear someone at camp complaining at the noise you're making. It faintly sounds like Gale. His complaint seems a touch...flustered, and an image of him flashes before your eyes, curled up on his bedroll, pillows over his head, sporting the hardest erection he's had in a while. You're certain Astarion heard and saw it, too, for he grins, before fucking into you even harder than before, slamming into your sweet spot with every thrust.

"Let him hear," he growls into your ear. "Let him know what he's missing."

This is a type of meanness you can certainly get behind, but even you are a bit embarassed of screaming your head off at camp.

"Now, why would I do all that?" You say, barely biting back a blissful moan when Astarion leans down to start licking and suckling at your throat. "It's more fun if he doesn't hear, if all he has is his imagination, not even close to the real thing. Don't you want that? For him to know he can't have me, because I'm with you?"

You know exactly how to appeal to his possessive nature, whispering sweet words that scratch that needy, obsessive part of his brain just right. You don't usually like to encourage his jealousy - you've had a long and very difficult conversation about this - but you did chose him as your primary and know he needs that reassurance.

And Gale, for some reason, really, really brings out Astarion's competitive streak.

You expose more of your neck to him, a silent way of letting him know he's free to feast on you. Astarion doesn't need to be told twice, his fangs piercing your skin. The icy sensation gives way to pure bliss, and you sigh against him. He gulps at you like a glutton, drinking his fill, and he whines in delight. You taste sweeter than anything he's ever had in his life, and your arousal is so deeply evident in your blood, his hips damn near move on their own accord. You're so warm, so wet, so tight around him, his body feel like it's on fire. Your pulse quickens, and Astarion is careful to draw back from your flesh. He wants you sated and conscious, wants you with him.

The pleasure of his bite, combined with the delectable glide of his cock inside you are enough to push you over the edge all over again. You cry out his name once more, and this time, he muffles your pleasure with insistent kisses. Your vision blacks out, you can taste the iron of your own blood on his tongue as it flows into your mouth. Astarion's hips sputter, and he follows you over the edge, the noises he makes expressing pure desperation as he fills you with his seed.

He collapses on top of you once he comes down from his high. Astarion nuzzles his face into your neck again, enjoying the metallic tang of your blood mingling with the scent of your sweat and arousal. Your hand weaves its way into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. Astarion lets out another vampiric purr - a noise you hope he'll make more often for you. Your skin tingles with the vibration, and you press adoring kisses into his hairline.

"You're incredible," he murmurs against your skin, lapping up the bloody mess he's left behind on your neck. "I want to stay like this, forever, with you."

You laugh lightly at his affections. "I can't promise forever right now, but I can pledge the rest of my night to you."

Astarion is more than happy with this.

__________

The next morning, as you emerge from Astarion's tent dressed in clothes that are very obviously his, Shadowheart only shoots you a knowing look. Seems you've found your panty thief, and with that, the case is closed.

Gale, however, can barely meet your gaze when he hands you your morning coffee, his skin flushed bright red at the sight of you.

"You look...ahem. You look tired. Did you have a long night?" He asks awkwardly, attemting to his embarrassment behind a cough.

"Ah, yes. I had a bit of trouble falling asleep," you reply, easily playing along. "How about you? Stay up all night reading, again?"

Gale averts his gaze. "You could say that. It was a rather...stimulating read."

You didn't think he could get any redder, but he's about as red as the fried tomatos he serves alongside your breakfast. You decide to take pity on him, and press a quick kiss to his cheek as he hands you your breakfast.

"Already looking for attention elsewhere, my love?" Astarion questions as he slinks up to you. "I'm hurt."

"It's only polite to thank the person feeding you, Starlight," you chide, the implication not lost on either of you. "Besides, Gale had such a rough night, I thought a little peck might cheer him up."

"Don't let it become a habit then, darling, else I might have to get jealous of our dear wizard."

Astarion shoots Gale a pointed look. They both know he heard and saw more than he should have, and Astarion wouldn't have it any other way. He was your primary partner, and only with his permission would Gale ever be allowed to touch you.

You let Astarion pull you onto his lap as you sit down. He immediately buries his face into your hair as you tuck in to your food, inhaling deeply.

You still smell like him, like bergamot, brandy, and rosemary, and Gale has not left even the trace of a scent. He's happy at that, leaving a trail of kisses on your nape.

"Don't think you being cute gets you out of laundry duty, Starlight," you quip through a mouthful of eggs. "I expect my clothes to be spotless by the end of the day."

Astarion laughs, leaving one final kiss on your skin.

Matsukawa Issei doesn’t know what to think of you when you first meet.

You’re a cute first year who joins as the team’s manager, and sure, he has a cute innocent crush on you because you’re just so sweet and kind to him, but he doesn’t pursue it knowing he’s graduating in less than a year.

He thinks it’s unfortunate, hugging you tight to his chest as you congratulate him on the day of graduation, surrounded by spring cheer and raining sakura petals. Maybe he holds you for a second longer than it is socially acceptable for friends to hug, but you seem to welcome it, clinging to him tighter as if to keep him there, with you. 

He lets go, regretfully, and he doesn’t say anything more.

And then, he’s off to college, letting go of all of his little fantasies and expectations that featured you as the main actress.

Time passes. The familiar song and dance repeats and repeats and he finds himself back on campus for his third year of university. He’s gotten through with new little crushes and hookups and learned more about himself and reality as he barely juggles his academics and life at the same time. 

You’re almost completely gone from his mind. It’s always hard to forget the first ones, but he’s ninety-nine percent over you.

What he doesn’t expect is for that one percent to hit him back, hard. As in, you barrel into his life once more, grown up and so much more confident than you before as his meek, quiet junior. And how could he ignore you, when you call his name with that same sweet voice, looking up at him with your big doe eyes as you smile so brightly at the fact that Matsukawa attends the same university as you. 

He can’t say no, and the story repeats once more with a few revisions.

Matsukawa loves volleyball, but it’s not enough to chase after a regular spot on the school’s team, so he settles for joining the much more casual intramural league. It’s not hard for you to tail behind, taking up an organizer’s position per his suggestion. 

Despite the two year difference between you, friendship comes easy to you as it does breathing. There’s only a slight awkwardness that lingers when you officially meet up for the first time, but once he pats your head and smiles at you, the one where his eyes crinkle and he looks at you gently, you realize it’s the same as before.

Of course, some things are different now. 

(His mind wanders more often than not though–he can’t help it, not when you’re wearing that skirt and sweater combo that makes your legs look amazing.)

But now, he finds himself in a study room, nestled in the halls of your dorm building as he watches you work on your essay, jotting down notes to the side as you furrow your eyebrows in concentration. In front of him, his laptop is open to his latest assignment and he has only skimmed through the instructions, favoring the view across the table in the form of you.

“Oh, are you going to the intramural’s retreat next weekend?” you suddenly ask, looking up from your papers and locking eyes with him.

“Hm, not sure yet. I saw that forms were due by tomorrow though. Are you?”

“I think it’d be fun! Plus, I finish up my midterms early next week, so it’ll be like a little reward!”

“Heh, if you pass them,” Mattsun jokes, and you slap his arm with an offended “hey!” He recoils, acting as if it hurt. “Ouch, with that strength, you should’ve joined intramurals.”

“Just fill out that Google Form. I’m passing them and we’re going.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

Matsukawa already feels blessed enough to have seen you in casual clothes. Sure, the Seijoh uniform was cute and all, but the tracksuit for volleyball practice wasn’t the best outfit to show you off. Entering uni, your outfits were various and plenty, showing off all your sides. His stare lingered far too long on you when you weren’t looking, desperately burning them into his brain.

But this—he wonders what good karma he had done to deserve this.

You’re in a cute pink bikini, one with white frills around the edges that makes you look so, so sweet. Fuck, the universe is testing him, and he’s pretty confident he won’t pass. 

“Mattsun! Over here!” You wave him over, clutching your tote bag closer to your side as you wait for him to reach you. “So? Isn’t it cute?” You twirl around once, graceful, as if you’re in a ballgown rather than a bikini, and he has to avert his eyes when he answers, too distracted by the cut of the bikini top along your cleavage.

“Cute. Is it new?” he asks, and it’s a safe question that he thinks of in a split second. Thank god he didn’t voice his thoughts out loud, or he would’ve been done for.

“Yeah! I got it before the semester began and only wore it once for a pool party!” 

A few intramural members pass by, cheering as they rush through the sand towards the water. They nudge at Matsukawa, and you take his hand. “C’mon! They’re leaving us behind!”

He follows you, dragged helplessly by your gentle tug and his eyes locked on the way your fingers are laced with his own. It’s another image—a feeling that he tries to etch into his mind, rather than the blue sea just a few feet away. 

You don’t stop, slowing slightly to drop your bag next to the other organizer’s beach towel and you continue your sprint, urging Matsukawa to run beside you as he simply laughs. A shriek escapes you as your feet hit the water, the cold splashing against your legs as it reaches you mid-thigh. You clutch his arm to your chest, and his own heart rate spikes at the feeling of your plush chest.

You’re talking about finding seashells and whatnot, but all he can focus on is the way your bikini fits your ass, how he could swipe a finger and tease your folds and make you a mess in just mere moments. Crouching down, you start to reach into the waters, searching through the sand for anything of interest, completely oblivious to Matsukawa’s inner conflict. You look back at him briefly, noticing his pursed lips, his eyes trained on you, but not quite your eyes.

And then you see the bulge in his swimsuit. Your heart jumps to your throat, and for a split second you wonder if it’s just because of the water rippling around his hips that causes his swim trunks to look like that–

Nope. nope. It’s not just the water, it’s not just your eyes playing tricks on you.

He blinks, and then his eyes flit to yours, following your gaze and he suddenly coughs into his fist, averting his gaze and lowering himself slightly into the water.

“S-Sorry.  It’s nothing.”

Part of him hopes you just turn away, but the other part of him, needy for you after all this time, hopes you don’t. 

Actually–Fuck it, he’ll make the first move.

He steps forward, one, two, and he’s just centimeters away from before he’s pressing himself against you. You jump, ready to whirl around but he grabs your hips to stop you from moving.

“Do you feel it? What you do to me?” Matsukawa says lowly, pressing your hips closer to him. It’s hard against your ass, and you’re trying to calm your nerves.

You won’t let me run away from you again.

“W-What do you want to do about it then?” You ask, with a flare of confidence that fills you as you experimentally grind back against him.

His eyes flicker between you and somewhere past the shoreline, and this time, you let him take your hand.

——

“Wait—Mattsun—What if someone comes in?”

He kisses you deeply once again, tongue swiping against yours as he swallows your moans and pushes you back against the wall. His breath ghosts over your lips. “No one’s going to come in, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“But–” He shuts you up again, easily overpowering any attempt of you pushing him away as you melt into his hold, jolting with a muffled moan when his fingers find their place in between your legs. They find your clit quickly, his index and middle finger circling around the sensitive nub, making your hips jolt as you grasp at his forearm. Moans fill the empty changing room—the ones that are farther away from the parking lot—but the possibility of someone coming in makes you more excited, much to your horror.

Matsukawa doesn’t seem to mind by the way his swim trunks do a poor job of hiding the bulge between his legs, and as a wave of excitement washes over you, you reach for the hem to pull them down.

Your jaw drops.

Faintly, you remember the times when the Seijoh boys would joke about dick sizes and what not as they left the locker room back in high school, and one of the most memorable points of that conversation you recall is that Mastukawa was, according to Oikawa’s words, “unfortunately, most hung.” You remember slapping Oikawa for being indecent, and Iwaizumi slapped him much harder to echo your sentiment.

He wasn’t lying.

“That won’t fit.”

“Don’t give up until you’ve tried,” Matsukawa jokes, one of his hands coming up to comfortingly pet your hair. “But if it really scares you, we don’t have to go that far.”

“No… I want to,” you reply quickly, eyes still glued onto his length. The tip is flushed red, and all coherent thought escapes you as your eyes trail down its length. You reach out for it, hovering over it and ask, “Can I?”

“Go ahead, princess.”

The pet name makes you shiver. And you wrap your hand around his cock, feeling it warm under your palm and fingers, a wave of satisfaction washing over you as Mattsun groans and closes his eyes in response. You’re barely able to wrap your fingers around it, and you experimentally stroke it, pleased when his hips stutter and he leans down to press his lips to your hair.

“Fuck, princess, keep going,” he groans, his voice a low rumble against your forehead. Spurred by his response, you go down to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes. You continue your ministrations, leaning up to press a kiss to the head of his cock, and Matsukawa moans at the sight.

“Shit, can’t believe you’re so naughty like this,” he says, watching you press another kiss to his length, tongue swiping over it as you lick the pearl of pre-cum off the tip. “When’d you learn to be so lewd?”

“When you left,” you breathe out. “Didn’t want anyone else, only you.”

Something burns inside Matsukawa when he hears those words—you’ve saved yourself just for him, followed him to his university, and it’s safe to assume it’s because you’ve always felt the same way for him. 

He feels like he’s won the lottery. 

You take his cock into your mouth, fisting the length that you can’t fit past your lips, and he grins, wide.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he hurries to say, cupping your face and gently pulling you up to your feet again. “Next time, I want you like this. But I need to be inside you, now.”

You don’t argue back, instead, nodding eagerly as you lean over so your hands rest against the bench edge. His hands find your hips easy, and he ruts against you automatically, his cock fitting perfectly against the curve of your ass, aching to be inside of you.

“Tell me when to stop,” he whispers against your shoulder. “Be honest with me, I don’t want to hurt you, alright?”

You look up, meeting his gaze through the mirror. His eyes are hooded, filled with lust and hunger, but he’s dead serious, and you nod, speechless. A hand gropes your ass and you mewl, clutching at the bench as your thighs squeeze together.

“Be honest.”

“I-I will,” you manage to say, closing your eyes when you feel a finger brush against your folds as he moves the bikini to the side. There’s something even more thrilling about being exposed with the bikini shoved to the side, rather than taking off your bottoms at all, and it makes you warm all over. You gasp suddenly when his cock nudges your sopping cunt, and you bite back a moan as he pushes in.

You inhale sharply—despite prepping with his fingers, it’s still big—both length and girth. He goes slow, watching your reaction carefully like a hawk as he pushes in. He stills.

“Are you ok? Breathe for me, darling.”

You let out the breath you were holding, but you can’t help but clench tighter around Issei, making him grunt at the sudden movement.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me,” he says into your shoulder, breath ghosting over your back. “Loosen up for me. I’ll make you feel good, promise.”

His hand wanders up to your chest, cupping at your breast before he toys with your nipple, gently flicking at it with his finger and relishing in the way your back arches and your meaning loudly for him once more.

With a few more pauses and sweet nothings whispered in your ear, you feel Issei’s hips flush against your ass, and the thought of his cock filling you up as you dizzy with lust.

“You feel that?” Matsukawa whispers. “Look at you.”

You bite your lip to stifle a moan and you turn your head to look at the mirror. His hips are right up against your ass, and your reflection looks absolutely wrecked as she stares back at you, stars in her eyes and little gasps escaping her swollen pink lips. Matsukawa, on the other hand, is absolutely glowing, the light on his sweat sheened skin making his muscles ripple as he holds your hips with his large hands, his hair falling against his face as he stares down at you with a heavy lust filled gaze.

You clench again, and he groans.

“Gonna…Gonna break,” you stutter out, half delirious by the sensation of his cock stretching you impossibly wide. 

“It’s ok if you do, I’ll take care of you,” Matsukawa murmurs, eyes glued where he and you are connected. The hand on your ass squeezes, and you feel his thumb circling your opening, as if admiring the way he’s stretching you, intoxicated by your body and all of its sweet reactions to his touch. He moves, sliding in and out of you slowly, observing you for any indication of pain. When you do gasp, he stills immediately, asking if you’re ok before he continues his slow pace. 

“I don’t think I’ll last that long when your cunt is squeezing me so tightly,” Matsukawa breathes out. “Fuck, if I knew you’d take me so well I would’ve done this back in high school.”

It hits a chord in you, and he grunts again when you clench with a gasp.

“Did you want this too, princess?”

“Y-Yes, always wanted you…it’s so much bigger than I imagined—” your voice breaks into a gasp when Mattsun twitches inside you. His palm is splayed out across your back where it arches, clenching uncontrollably around his thick cock.

“Imagined? I’ll make sure to go beyond your imagination, then.”

It’s the only warning he gives you before he starts moving his hips, rutting into you in punctuated movements. With each thrust, you feel yourself pushed forwards, your body going numb with pleasure as he hits all the spots that drive you insane. Warmth coils at your gut, tight and building as he drives his cock deep inside of you—your skin tingles with excitement. Suddenly—

“N-No Issei, don’t!” Your cries drown out the rest of your protests, and Issei grins against your shoulder, pressing harder against your stomach, right below your bellybutton where he can feel the tip of his cock drive into you. His other hand cups your tits, squeezing and fondling them before he slips under your bikini top, pushing it to the side to find your nipples easily, flicking and twisting them between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck—fuck your cunt is so tight around him and your wanton moans are for his ears only. He wasn’t lying earlier—even he’s impressed with how long he’s been able to hold back, but he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, the warmth burning tenfold when he sees how absolutely undone you are by his own hands.

“Say my name, baby,” he gasps, your given name falling from his lips. His fingers draw frantic circles around your clit.  “Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”

“I-Issei!” you cry, voice stuttering into a long keen. You’re absolutely gone, blissed out and desperate to reach your climax. “Issei, gonna cum—gonna—!”

He cuts you off by slamming himself deep into you, driven over the edge by the moan of his given name and nearly tipping you over as he pulls your hips closer to him. You have no doubt his cum is filling your cervix as he pulses inside of you, and you're shuddering around his cock, riding out your own orgasm as he presses his thumb against your clit. Ecstasy is all you feel, your limbs gone numb as Issei holds you up, squeezing your hips as he stills, making sure you’ve taken every drop of him. 

With a shaky exhale, Issei pulls out, hissing at the feeling and instantly eyeing the way your pussy convulses before his cum leaks out of you in fat drops, painting your cunt and clit white before it falls onto the floor. 

“Look at how messy you are,” Issei tuts, crouching down and lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze through blurry eyes. “Hey, stay with me. We have a lot to catch up on, and we’ll start by cleaning you up first.”

When he lays you down on the bench so your upper half is against the wood and your legs are spread out for him, you vaguely wonder if you should let the rest of your team know that you’ll be late for dinner.

At this point, your vision was swimming. Partly from your tears, and partly from your head being pressed so hard into the mattress that it left you cross-eyed. Your ass was propped up in the air by his other hand, the one not holding your head down, but instead holding your hips up with a grip so bruising you were sure it would leave deep purple marks on you tomorrow morning. But fuck, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the next morning. You could only focus on one thing, and that was your weeping pussy stretched out over your boyfriend’s huge cock, drilled into submission and with no signs of stopping.

“I-Issei-” You gasped when he hit a particularly deep spot, another tear escaping from your eye and running over the bridge of your nose, only to fall on the sheets under your head. “Issei, plea-”

“No.” Came the nonchalant reply.

Your face scrunched up in disappointment, fingers twisting around the sheets as you laid still, taking the pounding you were getting like a good girl. You wanted, no needed, to cum so bad, but you couldn’t. Not until Issei allowed you to. You knew what would happen if you came without his permission. If this was already messing you up so bad, you couldn’t even imagine what he would do to you if you came without his approval.

You let yourself cry and moan as Issei kept fucking you slow and hard into the mattress, trying not to focus on how fucking good he felt or how close to the edge you were. You sighed when he draped himself over your back, his bare body providing such a welcome feeling against your shot nerves. He hummed into your shoulder, laying a soft kiss on the skin, such a stark contrast to the absolute havoc he was wreaking below your pelvis. 

“Issei…” You tried again, clenching around him. You were so overstimulated, you just had to beg. You knew from experience that it wouldn’t be long until you couldn’t hold back anymore, not if Issei continued to shove his cock into you at the same pace. 

“Stop asking, baby.” Came his reply, voice raspy against your ear, his breath hitting your skin enough to make you shiver. He thrusted hard and held himself there for a few seconds, letting you appreciate how wonderfully he stretched you out. Your jaw went slack.

“You know you don’t deserve to cum.” He continued, the hand on your head now tangling in your hair, tugging just a bit. “Not after that show you put on in front of my friends. You think they couldn’t tell that you were just tryna rile me up? They’re not stupid, you know? And neither am I.”

“‘M sorry.” You whimpered, barely forming coherent thoughts, but feeling fresh tears prick your eyes regardless. “‘M sorry, daddy. I was just-”

“Being a brat? Wanting attention? Acting like a whore?” His words didn’t sting, in fact they turned you on more and made you tighten around him, and you heard his sharp intake of breath.

“You don’t get anything tonight, babygirl.” He concluded, one hand slipping between your body and the bed to pat at your clit, making you yelp. You were so sensitive, even the slightest touch sent you spiraling. “Tonight, you’re gonna let daddy use your whore body for himself, and if I feel like you deserve to cum after that-” He disengaged from your body and straightened, hands gripping your hips in preparation, “then maybe I will consider it.”

Then, he began fucking you in earnest, pounding your limp body into the bed, reveling in the sounds of your mumbled ‘thank you’s, grateful just at the thought that maybe he would let you cum. He couldn’t help the little smirk that spread on his face at the sound, the notion that even his consideration for letting you cum sent you into a mumbled mess of grateful words, his cock throbbing inside your tight little cunt.

He had trained you well.

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you wake with a start, astarion’s cold arm a comforting weight across your waist. you can’t think what could have possibly woken you up so suddenly, as you listen for any untoward noises around camp. but there’s only astarion’s steady, gentle breathing behind you and gale’s obnoxious snoring echoing from the other end of the clearing.

as you settle back down on your bedroll, however, you become aware of something sticky and wet between your legs. could be that a wet dream concerning your beloved has you in such a state, but you don’t remember dreaming of him last night. no, now that your senses are returning to you, you remember that last night was reserved for another visit from your so-called guardian. so what … ?

you toss your end of the blanket aside and groan, throwing your head back against the pack you’ve set out for a makeshift pillow. doing so earns you another yelp; must have made contact with one of the stems of the many apples wedged into your supply bag.

astarion is on his feet in an instant, startling you; you weren’t even aware he was awake. not that elves ever truly sleep. it always slightly unnerves you to feel him levitating beside you in his meditative state. ❝ you’re hurt. ❞ his voice is rough, thick with inertia. ❝ i swear i’ll find whoever did this and bleed them dry. we should never have trusted that damned cleric; shar this and shar that. i’ll shove her blessed shar right up her — ❞

he’s already kicking his own pack aside to stomp his way out of the tent when you hiss, ❝ astarion! ❞

luckily he’s not too aggravated to stop and give you a glance back so you can explain in a low murmur, ❝ it’s my cycle … ❞

astarion stops short, one pale hand clutched to his chest. ❝ oh … i — ❞ he waves that same hand now toward the opening of his tent. ❝ i thought … ❞

❝ i know what you thought, ❞ you sigh, more weary knowing what’s to come over the next 7 days than you are of him, than you could ever be of him. ❝ but it’s not. so just come back to bed. please? ❞

❝ i thought you’d never ask … ❞ he purrs, back to his normal self.

unfortunately, you’re doubled over in pain before he’s even halfway back.

❝ i knew you were in pain. ❞ astarion’s back at your side in a flash. ❝ just tell me who and i’ll — ❞

❝ i am, ❞ you gasp, ❝ in pain. but … not because anyone hurt me. well, more like mother nature cursed me. ❞

a particularly bad cramp seizes you and your hand flies out, clutching the front of astarion’s silky tunic. you press your fingers in to feel his cold, broad chest. the sensation calms you a bit … until yet another bout of pain rolls through your midsection.

icy fingers find yours, ghosting over your knuckles. ❝ shall i … see if the druid can make you something? ❞

you shake your head, tugging at his shirt. ❝ just lay with me. please. ❞

astarion’s skin is blessedly cool against yours, as it always is. you lean into him, pressing your face against his frigid neck, soothing your burning cheeks.

his glacial hands find the edge of your tunic, and then the small of your back, which helps more than he could possibly know. you shudder against him, pushing, trying to get more of him.

❝ you know … ❞ astarion sniffs, delicate voice very close to your ear. ❝ i have heard of one thing that is guaranteed to relieve moon sickness. ❞

pulling back, you glance curiously up at him.

he has that rakish grin on his face that you’ve come to know all too well in the past weeks. his reddened eyes roll away from you. ❝ come now, pup. you must know what i mean … sex. ❞ your heart jumps into your throat at the thought; you’re sure astarion can feel it beating harder against his own chest.

suddenly, his mouth is just under your ear, teeth rasping against the exact place he’s fed from you dozens of times before. ❝ i can smell it, my love. ❞

you don’t answer immediately; while you can’t deny the thought appeals to you, if for no other reason than to rid yourself of these damnable cramps, you’re also apprehensive. astarion feeding from your neck is one thing — still intimate, but relatively normal by vampire standards. to have astarion feed down there, on that blood, feeding from your womb …

❝ you’re right, it’s a bad idea, absolutely disgusting. i don’t know why i — ❞

❝ do it. ❞

❝ eh … hm? ❞

❝ do it, ❞ you repeat, grasping onto him for dear life as another squeezing, crushing shock of pain settles in your stomach. ❝ please, astarion. i can’t take it anymore. ❞

it’s been many moons since your cycle has been this bad. traveling on the road without proper food or rest may finally be catching up to you, exacerbating things. not much you can do about that until you reach the city, though.

other than letting your vampire lover drink your blood, of course.

laying you gently back without another complaint, astarion slips the blanket off of you and reaches to undo your breeches.

anxiety overtakes you; there’s already blood on your trousers and the blanket, you’re going to have to wash them in the river as soon as you’re able. you can’t even imagine the scene underneath your pants … but you’re about to find out.

gently, astarion prizes the trousers from your legs, then gasps softly. ❝ oh, my love … ❞

prying your eyes from the ceiling of the tent, you finally look down. astarion is there, of course, looking lovely as always. except, however, the lines on his face look deeper, almost carved, and the dark circles under his eyes are darker, his eyes redder.

another spell of panic grips you; bright red blood is smeared across your inner thighs.

astarion looks dizzy as he takes you in, cold hands cradling the outsides of your legs. you’re about to apologize and shove him away, tell him this is a mistake, in fact you will ask halsin to make you something — and that’s when astarion mutters, ❝ you are exquisite, ❞ and dives in to have his first taste.

the feeling of his tongue on your thighs makes you shiver, and the cool night air wafting in from the tent flap isn’t helping. you grab the clean end of the blanket and drape your upper half, canting your hips up to tell astarion what it is you truly want.

because even through all the anxiety, there’s also a bubble of arousal blooming between your legs. astarion can’t tell, of course, not through all the blood down there, but you sure as hell can. you have the most perfect creature you’ve ever set eyes on between your legs; how could you not be aroused?

❝ all in due time, ❞ astarion chuckles, voice muffled against your thighs as he continues to clean you up. thoroughly. too thoroughly.

❝ you always tease, ❞ you whine, knocking one of your knees against his ribcage.

this time when his gaze flashes sharply to you, his eyes are the reddest you’ve ever seen them. it makes you shake.

astarion’s nails dig into your hips, deliciously, wickedly. you tremble, reaching for him. he chuckles and kisses the inside of one of your wrists, which leaves a smear of blood. ❝ always such a needy little pup for me, aren’t you? ❞

you don’t even have time to nod before he dives back in, his mouth exactly where you want it this time. his lips suction around your clit, tongue lapping out lower down to scoop a sizeable pearl of blood into his mouth.

this time, astarion is the one who shakes. he lays his cheek against your still-bloody thigh and shudders. ❝ you’re going to be the death of me, ❞ he sighs, and you can see him skirting his tongue around his mouth, flitting over his lips, savoring you.

you huff. ❝ you’ll be of me, too, if you don’t keep going. ❞

❝ so pushy, ❞ your lover mutters, but there’s absolutely no heat in his words as he obeys your command and buries his face back into your blood-soaked cunt.

for a while you just lie back and enjoy yourself, and let astarion enjoy himself as well. his arms are strong around your legs, holding you in place so you can’t squirm away. it feels way too damn good, you may have been tempted to try. but as it is, you can’t do anything but revel in the silky feeling of astarion’s tongue lapping up everything you have to give him, his fangs catching every so often on your clit, making you see stars.

at some point, you glance down at him and gasp. ❝ your shirt! ❞

you know how much he prides himself on his physical appearance, and now there’s blood staining the front ruffles of his normally immaculate tunic.

he glances down and tuts, frowning. ❝ oh well. it’ll have to go with the rest. ❞ just like that, he rips it off and tosses it with your soiled trousers.

he must be in heaven, you suspect, if he’s willing to discard his cherished clothing for you.

now shirtless, astarion gives one last gentle kiss to your clit and then slowly starts to climb your body. there’s blood dripping from his chin, staining the rest of the blanket wrapped around you. but more importantly, his broad chest is skating up the expanse of your bloody cunt as he comes, and your clit throbs seeing all that red coating his torso.

❝ astarion! ❞ you gasp, and he grins, mouth full of your blood.

❝ i’m loathe to ask you for a kiss, ❞ he whispers, so low you can barely hear him. ❝ just one. i promise. ❞

you swallow thickly, and he waits for you to lean up, pressing your lips to his in the softest kiss you can manage. blood squishes between you, and you can feel it coating your lips as you lie back down.

one lap of your tongue against your bottom lip and you grimace, spitting and rubbing at your mouth with the back of one hand.

astarion laughs heartily as you mutter, ❝ ugh, not for me. ❞

❝ more for me, ❞ astarion says, almost gleefully.

he’s obviously preparing to get back to it, but you keep him close with your hands on his shoulders. ❝ i want you. ❞

brows furrowed, astarion squeezes your waist. ❝ darling, you have me. ❞

❝ inside, ❞ you beg quietly, which you know enjoys immensely.

your next step might be a mistake, but you decide to chance it. bracing yourself with your legs wrapped around him, you thrust up, dragging your wetness along the front of his trousers. you can feel that he’s hard, and now there’s blood all over his pants. you’re hoping he won’t mind, considering his tunic is already ruined for the night as well.

luckily he doesn’t seem to, dark gaze sweeping down over the two of you covered in your blood, and then back up. ❝ i thought you’d never ask. ❞

his trousers quickly follow his tunic, erection jutting up between your legs.

❝ he looks happy, ❞ you giggle, as his swollen head prods at your blood-soaked entrance.

❝ to see you? always. ❞

having astarion inside of you is normally a relief, a release of all the rampant, pent up emotions this journey has bestowed upon you.

tonight is different.

with all that blood flowing south, your womb is aching, you're sore and swollen as astarion’s cock spears through your lips. every thrust sends a fresh flow of blood down his shaft, which earns you a tight growl from the vampire as he takes the backs of your knees in hand and shoves your thighs back toward your chest, eager to get even deeper inside of you.

and you’re eager to have him, nails digging into his chiseled back, the hard marble of his jaw knocking against your shoulder as his lips, slick with blood, find your ear again. ❝ are you feeling better, pet? does my cock soothe that ache inside of you? the ache that raged inside of you, until you met me? until i filled you up in every lovely way possible? ❞

his words make your brain go haywire, knees shaking around his ribcage, toes curling, your mouth rubbing comfortingly at his cool shoulder.

more than that, you do feel better. the more aroused you become, the more blood flows out of you, the less painful your cramps become. until you’re pushing down against him, trying to ride him at the same time as he’s shoving himself inside of you with reckless abandon. until you can’t remember why you started this in the first place, other than to wind up begging for him to finish inside of you.

❝ inside. please, astarion, inside … ❞ it’s hard to even think clearly enough to form words, your mind consumed with the sight of his beautiful body moving atop yours.

you assume he’ll make you beg, as he so often does; he loves hearing the desperate, pleading tone in your voice that tells him all he needs to know — you belong to him.

but he doesn’t. he fucks into you as hard as he ever has, his thick cock gliding against your engorged walls, making your eyes roll back.

and then the talking starts. the words that make you wish you knew whether or not vampires can actually have children. ❝ you want me to get you pregnant, love? want your belly to swell with my child inside of it? i will wait on you hand and foot, i promise. i would love seeing you walk around knowing you hold my heir, that you protected my seed so well that it grew into a child inside of you. ❞ astarion pauses momentarily to laugh, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. ❝ with all this blood, i know you must be fertile. ❞

both of you share a laugh, briefly.

and when you cum, together, he sinks his teeth into your neck with nothing but a quiet grunt, cockhead twitching and spurting inside of you.

you mewl softly, feeling the vampire trembling and shaking as he empties himself into you. your hands pet through his hair, soothe the back of his neck, across the scars circling his back.

the pain from before is nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a warm, fizzy feeling sitting low in your gut. astarion is bracing himself on his elbows above you, with obvious effort.

you pull him down to lay atop you; he’s not exceptionally heavy anyway.

❝ i love you, ❞ he sighs, nestling his face, chin still slick with blood, against your collarbone. ❝ and … promise me we can do that again. ❞

Tooru’s cock is, just like the rest of him, pretty. It’s pale, slender, rigidly straight with a perfectly shaped bulbous tip that always makes this lewd schmuck noise when he pulls out of you. As he gets closer to coming his tip gets a little pink, but it’s nothing compared to the flush sitting high on his cheeks, or the rosy red of his lips. He’s got a single vein that runs along his underside, so it doesn’t marr the smooth appearance but still gives you that extra bit of stimulation when he’s fucking you. It’s just an overall outstanding cock, and he knows it, too - he’s confident in his body in general, but this is particularly true in the context of his penis. He takes good care of himself, shaving and making sure to use expensive oils and lotions to minimize any ingrown hairs or razor burns. He even uses a special genital cologne, just to make sure he smells good too. (The scent is one he thinks you’d like - he’d brought you to a perfumery one time as a joke because he thought seeing you scrunch your nose at some of the smellier ones was entertaining, but he’d been keeping note of which ones you’d found agreeable when he shoved them at you.) He’s not terribly sensitive - particularly when you’re sucking him off, because while it feels amazing to have your lips wrapped around him, he’s gotten enough head through his life that he’s just jaded and too used to it to find it especially pleasurable. But being inside you? That’s a different story - he hasn’t actually fucked that many women, and as a result the moment he slips inside you for the first time he’s gasping, his eyes blowing wide and this strangled, vulnerable little noise coming from his throat. He still takes a while to come, but he’ll gasp and murmur praise in your ear the entire time he’s thrusting into you, because you just feel so good and warm and tight. 

He’s a shooter, and it makes this perfect, porn-worthy little arc as he throws his head back and moans your name. He doesn’t produce much in terms of volume, but it’s pretty runny, so it’ll often feel like there’s more there than there really is. His cum is very smooth; there’s no lumps or globs, and when he rubs it against your skin (because he likes seeing you covered in it, and he claims it’s good for your skin - rich in nutrients and makes you glow) it almost feels like a thin lotion. When he comes his whole body freezes up, every muscle going taut and tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms him. He’s still for a moment, but after the first initial wave he’s suddenly moving like a madman, his hips bobbing and thrusting wildly and unpredictably, desperate to get any last bit of pleasure they possibly can. He’s always clutching onto you, too, like he needs to ground himself or else he’ll get carried away by the pleasure. (This often leads to finger shaped bruises appearing on your hips and ass, sometimes even your breasts, and while he’s apologetic about it, he doesn’t feel bad.) He makes this high, airy sort of moan when he’s coming, and his eyes always shut tightly, his thin brows scrunching together and his mouth morphing into a sort of grimace. He looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not - it feels so, so very good, and he’s just trying to stop himself from moaning something stupid or crying. (He does cry sometimes, if the sex is particularly emotionally charged - the first time you tell him you love him gets him sobbing as he bends your knees up to your chin, plugging you full with his cock, and kissing you the whole time, whispering to you in a strained, broken moan I love you I love you I love you, fuck tell me you love me again-) His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re simply good for him, taking his cock and letting him do as he pleases with you. He likes when you’re receptive to his touches, and ideally you’d be spread out before him on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your fingers alternating between running through his brown locks and scratching down his back when you’re getting close. He likes the way your cunt flutters around him, your walls rubbing him and massaging his length in a way that makes him breathless, and sometimes his arms even go a bit weak and he nearly falls down on top of you because you just feel too damn good. He likes when you thrust your hips in time with his, trying to get him in deeper and feel him to a much fuller extent. It makes him feel wanted, like he’s doing a good job of pleasuring you, and if you moan? Tooru’s gone, burying his face into your neck and moving from the languid, sensual pace he’d been fucking you at to a more purposeful, calculated one, aiming for that spot he knows you love with every snap of his hips. He especially likes it when you come on his cock - the way you clench down on him makes him light headed, and sometimes - when your orgasm is powerful enough - you squeeze him hard enough to force him out of your cunt, his cock still swollen and throbbing, your slick coating him while he watches you fall apart below him. He likes the way you spasm around him, and more often than not it lulls him into his own orgasm, spurting cum into you and gasping your name with his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple. He just really, really likes when you willingly pull him closer and encourage him to fuck you deeper; it’s a surefire way to get him breathless and crying out your name.

He’s solidly five and a half inches, with dark hairs framing his base and naval. It’s the perfect shape, with a slight curve upwards that hits you just right when he’s got you spread out on your back, bulbous tip ramming into that spot over and over again. It’s incredibly easy to arouse him - his cock’s got a mind of its own, and often there’s blood rushing south from the slightest things, like you licking your lips (he can’t not imagine how they’d look around his length) or mindlessly playing with your fingers (they’d look so small against him, running along his chest and gripping around his cock; he bets you couldn’t even touch your fingers when you grip him). He gets hard embarrassingly quickly, and stays hard, even if he desperately tries to get rid of it. This causes quite a few awkward moments when he’s around you, and he tries to wear baggier pants whenever there’s a chance you might be present - just because every encounter with you more often than not leads to him popping a boner at least twice. He’s moderately sensitive, and particularly likes when you give his tip and base attention at the same time. He likes when you suckle at the head and lap your tongue up and down his slit, all while your fingers massage and grope at the juncture between his shaft and his pelvis. It makes him shudder, eyebrows drawing together, and gets his hips bucking forward slightly. Especially if you rub at the spot right above where his balls and shaft meet - it makes him actually growl. 

His cum is thick and pretty bitter, landing on your tongue and leaving a residue like thick oil. The taste is hard to get out of your mouth, unfortunately, and when you tell Hajime this he’ll immediately feel guilty for how much he likes to finish down your throat. After that, every time you suck him off he’ll come on your face - he justifies it as being less invasive of your wishes, and because it seems to actually be good for your skin. (One time you’d had a nasty pimple, and after a spurt of his cum landed on it, the next morning it disappeared.) It’s okay, though, because his favorite place to come is actually on you, specifically on your pussy. He likes pulling out at the last minute and finishing himself off, watching as cum dribbles onto your pretty lips, making an absolute mess out of you and leaving you all sticky and warm. He’ll run his fingers through it sometimes, staring with this look of awe, intensely enough that you’ll get embarrassed. His ultimate, though, is when your spread your lips for him, exposing your quivering, swollen little hole, and he comes all over that - it’s dirty, taboo, and it makes his possessive urges towards you calm down a bit because now you’re marked as his, and anyone else can see the globs of his cum that are pressed up right against your most sensitive, intimate area. Of course, though, if you want him to come inside, he’ll never say no. He’s a gasper, his breath always getting caught when he’s fucking you. When he first shoves himself inside, he’s gasping lowly and biting his lip, trying to control himself and hold back the orgasm that’s already dangerously close. He’s not too terribly vocal for the most part, but when he gets close to coming he’s stuttering out your name, each syllable punctuated with a grunt and a gasp, until eventually he’s coming, his eyes blowing wide and a strained slur of your name falling from his lips. He stares the whole time, unwilling to look away, and it’s not until the oversensitivity overwhelms him that he lets the moment end.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s giving himself a pussy job, using - of course - you. In general, he’s utterly fascinated by your cunt - he’s always staring at it, and although he’s certainly no virgin, there’s something about your folds, specifically, that makes him salivate. He’s always trying to rut his cock against you, obsessed with the feeling of the most intimate part of you touching the most intimate part of him, and he wants nothing more than to have you spread out before him, your eyes blown wide and legs spread for him, pretty body on display for him as he fists his cock. He wants to run his tip through your folds, to collect all your slick and wetness at his head, watching the way it mixes with his own pre, leaving him a sticky, wet mess that shines and gleans in the light. He’ll grip himself at the base, harshly exhaling as he runs himself slowly, so damn slowly, up and up, letting himself dip deeper inside every few centimeters, just enough to tease both him and you. He’ll run himself all the up to your clit, muttering out a curse as his tip draws circles against your little nub, his slit feeling so sensitive and needy that it makes him crazy. When he’s doing this, he tends to murmur your name a lot, growls of how pretty you look, amazed comments of how you’re already so wet for him, and curses of how fucking tiny your little pussy are always slipping past his lips. He’s amazed by how he can possibly fit inside you - you look so small and tight, and his cock looks much too big in comparison, and the idea of stretching you out gets him gulping, his cock visibly throbbing. Eventually he’ll cave and shove himself in, apologizing through grunts that he just can’t hold himself back anymore, that he can’t keep teasing himself, that he needs to be inside you and feeling how warm and wet and perfect you are. He’ll come very quickly after doing this - it only takes a few minutes, and soon he’s groaning your name and spilling inside of you, spurts of hot, thick cum plugging you up while he breathes in your scent and basks in you.

He’s a tall man, and his cock reflects that - it’s long, easily six and a half inches, hanging so heavily between his legs that even when he’s fully hard, swollen and practically begging to sink itself inside of you, it’s only standing at about 120 degrees, too weighed down by it’s own size to fully stand up. He’s not especially thick, but he’s veiny, with the raised skin criss-crossing and feeling perfect when they rub up against your spongy, sensitive walls. He’s not too terribly sensitive, but he likes steady, consistent pleasure stimulation, like a constant pace when he’s fucking you, or when you bob your head steadily, tongue lapping at his underside with fervor. His tip is always a darker shade than the rest of his shaft, the color matching his balls, and Issei particularly likes when you pay attention to those two areas. He’s extremely sensitive when it comes to any sort of stimulation to his balls, and the moment that your fingers brush them or your tongue flicks at them, he’s groaning, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tells you to do that again, angel, fuck just like that. He likes when you suck on them, trying to fit as much of each one into your mouth as you can, and just the sight of your lips wrapped around one while you suck and thumb at his tip with your hand makes his head spin, his orgasm drawing closer and closer at an alarming rate. He has a thing for making you kneel below him, and he really likes to be the one standing over you - there’s something about the power dynamic that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life, and when you look up at him all sultry and dirty like that, it takes everything in him to not force your lips apart and fuck your throat like an animal. (And sometimes, the urge is too strong - you’re left with a bruised throat and a hoarse voice, but everytime you talk to him like that it makes his expression darken, his cock growing hard once more and soon you’ll find yourself bent over the nearest surface, ass cheeks on display while he breaths hard and nudges his tip at your hole, determined to give you a bruised cunt to match your throat.)

His cum is thick too, but sometimes the consistency can be a little strange. It tends to glob up a bit, and because he dribbles when he comes, this can sometimes result in little spurts oozing out of his tip. The volume of cum is quite high, and because of this, when he comes inside you, you can really only describe it as him stuffing you full. (He’s seen your tummy swell before when he’s creampied you - you don’t really believe him, but he swears your stomach got bigger. And just the thought of that - that he stuffed you full enough to stretch that little pussy of yours out - is enough to get him growling and sucking dark hickeys into your neck, his possessiveness shooting through the roof.) He’s not especially vocal in bed, normally preferring to stay quiet and just listen to you, but as he gets closer his breathing starts getting really heavy, pants coming from his lips that sound more and more labored the closer his orgasm looms. Right before it hits, he’ll close his eyes and groan, the sound low and full of timber, making a shiver roll up your spine because it sounds so primal, like some sort of animal. And when he’s actually coming, he’ll groan again - except this time, it sounds vaguely like your name, the last syllable sounding upturned as the pleasure makes his mind scramble. His hips will slow down to nearly a stop when he’s coming, because he tends to get oversensitive really easily and he needs a moment to catch his breath. His eyes are closed the whole time, eyebrows scrunching together and looking a bit like it hurts, but the way his thighs tremble and the way his jaw goes slack tells you just how good you’ve made him feel. He prefers coming inside you, but as long as his cum gets inside of you somehow, whether that be in your cunt or down your throat, he doesn’t really mind. His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s on his back, and you’re perched with your cunt over his face and your mouth over his cock. He’s a fan of the classic 69 position, because while it isn’t the most sexually satisfying option, there’s something that he finds really endearing about the idea of pleasuring each other equally. He loves the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and the combination of that plus getting to taste your cute little pussy leaves him light headed and aroused enough to throw you down onto the bed. He likes to get on his back and give you a look, hoping you’ll understand what he wants without him having to articulate it, but if you don’t seem to get the message he’ll grab you and manhandle you on top of him, a hand gently pushing your face down to rub against his cock while his tongue slips between your folds. He’ll admit that the position is a little distracting, because it can be hard to focus on pleasing you when you’re doing such a good job of pleasing him, but he’s normally able to stave off his orgasm long enough to get you falling apart on top of him. He’ll aim for your clit and will sometimes bring a finger up to gently rub and curl against your walls, anything to get you shaking and moaning his name. (Plus, if he gets you wet enough, your slick will actually drip down onto his face - he fucking loves this, because it feels like you’re showering him with evidence of how well he’s touching you, coating his face with your slick because you want him to know that what he’s doing is enough.) He likes the way you gasp and struggle to stay consistent around him when he’s touching you like this, and feeling your fingers tremble as they stroke him and squeeze at his balls makes him sigh and buck his hips slightly. If he gets close, however, and feels like he can’t hold off any longer, his free hand will come down and hold your head in place while he thrusts up into your mouth, balls slapping against your nose as he fucks your face to his heart’s content. He just likes the intimacy of this position, and you’ll find yourself in it very often - especially towards the beginning of your ‘relationship’.

He’s just barely over five inches, but he’s pretty thick. It’s girthy, and when you first see it, the first thing you think of is how the hell he’s going to fit something that wide inside of you. It’s always a pink rosy color, even when he’s not hard, and although he’s embarrassed at first, he actually really likes having domestic moments with you where you see his cock both erect and flaccid - it makes him feel closer to you. (Plus, it normally only takes mere moments for it to go from soft to hard when you’re involved, which is what tends to happen nine times out of ten.) He doesn’t do a very good job of grooming himself, and takes pretty much no time to actually shave or trim or anything of the sort. It’s a bit of a mess down there, but he showers often so it all smells good and is clean. He doesn’t want you to shave or trim either - he firmly believes sex should be natural, and he wants to see you as you are, not as you present yourself. He’s decently sensitive, and while he’s got a bit of experience, he can get overwhelmed pretty easily when he’s inside you. He twitches a lot, especially once he’s settled between your walls - you can feel him moving inside you, bobbing and spasming as he gets closer to his orgasm, and sometimes his whole body shakes in time with them. It’s nice, actually, because it makes it easy to identify what kind of dirty talk gets to him - the moment you let any sort of praise slip past your tongue, he’s twitching and throbbing inside of you, acting as encouragement to get you saying more, to tell him that he feels good and that he’s gonna make me come ‘Hiro, please please please! (Begging normally gets him throbbing, too.)

He shoots, and there’s quite a bit of force behind the stream - it feels like the perfect amount of pressure in a shower, and he’ll always force himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch the way it spurts out of him and lands in ropes on your pretty body. His cum actually tastes surprisingly sweet, given how poor his diet is. It’s on the saltier side, but it’s nothing too outrageous. (You told him that once and he made some joke about how it would make the perfect replacement for that salt shaker that always seems to run out. You didn’t find the joke particularly funny, but the thought lingers in his mind for a while, and suddenly he can’t stop imagining the way you’d look actually eating his cum, not even in a sexual context. The thought makes him flush and have to clear his throat, but he can’t deny the allure.) This is great news for you, because Takahiro loves to come in your mouth. There’s something so dirty about seeing his cum dripping from the corners of your lips, down your chin, your pretty pink tongue coming out to lick it all up - and oh, if you hum or moan at the taste? He’ll melt, a few droplets of whatever remaining cum his body can scrounge up landing on your face without any warning. He’s a moaner, and while it embarrasses him, his voice always gets high when he gets close to coming, sounding less like moaning and more like whining and whimpering. He’ll always try to bury his face in whatever surface is closest by, though he tends to prefer your breasts or the small of your back, whichever is accessible. The moment he’s actually coming, though, he’ll  always pull back to watch, because even being a fully grown adult man, he’s still in awe of how your body just seems to affect his, almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him with how hard he orgasms. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him. He’s not necessarily lazy in bed, but he likes to watch you and let you do most of the work until he needs to step in. He’ll lay back with his head on some pillows and let you straddle him, your cute tummy and pretty tits on display as you slowly slide down onto him. He likes when you grind a bit on him first, your folds rubbing and massaging against his length, and if you watch his tip you’ll see a copious amount of precum oozing out, showcasing his steadily growing desperation to get inside you. Once you slip him past your tight entrance and he bottoms out inside you, he’ll sigh and pinch at your hips, his voice cocky as he tells you to get on with it baby, wanna feel you bouncing on me like a good little slut. It’s uncharacteristic, with how most of his tendencies in the bedroom tend to air on the more submissive side, but the moment you’re actually moving? Well, all traces of cockiness and dominance are gone - he’s gripping onto your thighs for dear life, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce and jiggle, maybe even smacking against your ribcage if they’re big enough. He likes the way he’s able to get deeper inside you like this, the penetration going further and making you cry out his name because you just feel so damn full. He’ll stare and watch you, his cheeks bright red, unable to focus on anything except your body and the way his orgasm is drawing nearer and nearer, and eventually he’ll get close enough that he needs to take control. He’ll sit up and wrap his arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest and maybe even a nipple in his mouth as he moves you up and down like some glorified sex doll. He’ll control your body fully, his own hips snapping up to meet yours in a crazed chase of his orgasm, until finally it hits, and he’s moaning your name and his balls are pulsing against your ass as warm cum floods you. He likes the vulnerability of this position, the way he can be touching so much of you at once, and because he gets to see all of you, even the parts of you that you try to hide in other positions. (Like that cute stomach of yours or the fat of your thighs.) You just look sexy, and the way you pulse and clench down onto him like a fucking vice when you reach your own high only spurs him on, desperation for round two and three and four hitting him like a truck.

He’s a little under five inches, but he’s mean with it. He doesn’t have much experience, but he’s nursed a small porn addiction for most of his life, and although he knows porn isn’t realistic, he can’t help but fuck into you with reckless abandon every time he’s got you naked in front of him. He’s not too terribly thick, but he’s veiny, to the point where he almost looks like those veiny dildos you can get online. His tip is extremely sensitive - swiping your thumb across his slit or squeezing at the head makes him splutter, his cheeks turning bright red as his hips jerk forward. It’s easy to turn him on, because he’s really bad at hiding when he’s aroused. Seeing you in anything form fitting will make him feel hot and have him alternating between averting his eyes and staring at every inch of you, but the real nail in the coffin for him is when you touch him in falsely innocent ways. Place a palm to his chest and smile at him and he’s immediately hard, or run your hand over his hair and he’s practically panting, unable to stop imagining the way you’d grip at his hair and beg him for more when he’s got his face between your legs. He gets hard easily, but he’s normally able to make it go away pretty easily too, but his face stays this rich red color and he gets more skittish around you than normal, so you’ll be able to tell ninety percent of the time. He’s actually pretty meticulous about upkeep - he’s not clean shaven but the hair is very short, perfectly trimmed so that you have unrestricted access to everything below his belt. He does this both because it makes him feel cleaner, and also because he wants to be as enticing to you as possible so that you’ll be more inclined to touch him. He’d gotten drunk one night in his early twenties and decreed that he’d be getting his dick pierced, and a buddy had gotten it on video, and he wouldn’t let his pride be wounded, so now he’s got a Prince Albert piercing on his tip. It hurt like hell, but he really likes the way it feels inside you - it makes him more sensitive, he thinks, and you always seem to squirm when you feel the cold metal, the extra stimulation making you moan and clench even harder around him. 

His cum is thick and there’s a lot of it. It doesn’t taste great, and the first time you tasted it you couldn’t help but grimace slightly. Kentarou noticed, and while he didn’t say anything about it, he’s been trying to alter his diet to include more foods he’s read help sweeten the taste of cum. He prefers to finish on your body rather than in you, but he’ll never not finish inside you if that’s what you want. Really, if you ask him to finish anywhere specific, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, excited that you want it. He just likes the way you look with it smeared across your skin - again, that porn addiction has left him with a bit of an objectification kink, and while he doesn’t view you as simply a toy for him to fuck, there’s something that quells his possessiveness towards you when he’s covering you with his seed. He tries to avoid coming in your mouth though, just because he doesn’t want to see you grimace like that again. When he’s fucking you, he doesn’t usually say much, but he isn’t super quiet - he grunts a lot, always sounding a little bit like he’s in pain, and he keeps his eyes tightly closed for much of it. He’ll mutter your name under his breath, too, but it’s quiet enough that unless his mouth is close to your ear you won’t be able to distinguish what he’s saying. But as he gets closer to coming, those grunts turn more into growls, and right as he’s on the edge, he’s literally growling your name, along with slurred fuck’s and yeah’s and too damn tight’s. He’s not too expressive, but if his orgasm is particularly powerful he’ll end up sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder - not enough to break the skin or hurt, but enough to leave a mark when he pulls away, and enough to muffle the moan that bubbles up in the back of his throat. His whole body tremors when he’s coming, everything from his fingertips to his toes trembling and shaking slightly, the force of his orgasm nearly blowing him away. It takes him a long time to actually finish coming once it starts, too - he comes so much that it just never seems to end, him emptying into you for easily twenty seconds before the last few drops finally come out. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take your time and just absolutely worship his cock. He’s never been embarrassed of his body or anything, but he likes the idea of being soft with you, and while he’s just a bit too awkward to take the time and worship your body, he likes when you do it to him. (It’s not that he doesn’t want to worship yours - he does, absolutely, more than you could ever understand. But putting himself into that position where you’re watching his every move and judging him, letting him explore and pleasure you and do whatever he wants with you makes him nervous, the pressure settling on his shoulders to do well making him chicken out at the last second. But when it’s you worshiping him, he can just sit back and watch, letting you do your magic until he’s eventually gasping your name and getting cum all over himself as you fist him and press kisses against his thighs.) It feels like such an intimate moment, and it helps convince him that you actually like him, that you’re actually returning the love he’s so frantically forcing onto you. He wants you to keep eye contact the whole time, looking up at him from your place on your knees, his own body seated in a chair with his legs spread so you have easier access. He wants you to kiss every inch of him, your soft lips pressing against his thigh, balls, cock, navel, everything you can reach. He wants you to pump slowly, telling him how warm he feels in your hands, how he’s so big and makes you feel so good, the compliments flowing off your tongue like sugar and making his face turn bright red. He wants you to suckle on his tip and lick along his slit, teasing him with not quite enough pressure, telling him how good it feels when he brushes against that certain spot inside you that makes you see stars. He wants you to squeeze and touch his balls, telling him how these always make you feel so full, they fill me up so well, Kentarou, I love it when you come in me. He just wants you to praise him and touch him all softly and slowly, showing him that you really love him. Give him hope that his one-sided feelings might be more reciprocated than he seems to think.

It’s solidly five inches, and curves very slightly to the left. He’s confident enough with it, but Yuutarou finds himself wishing he was just a bit longer, just a bit thicker, just a bit more. He spends a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror, and especially once his feelings for you form, he’s always idly wondering what you’d think of him. It’s a pale color, and when he gets hard it turns a gradient of pink down to his tip, where it’s flushed and always swollen within seconds of blood rushing south. He keeps himself clean shaven because he doesn’t want you to be grossed out when he eventually has you in front of him, naked and yearning for his touch. He wants everything to be clean and attractive and perfect, because the first time he gets to touch you and fuck you, everything has to go perfectly. He’s decently sensitive, and he especially likes it when you pay attention to his base. Gripping him there and idly squeezing while you talk to him will make him breathless and light headed, his voice strained and tight when you ask him if he’s wanting to fuck me? Do you want that, Yuutarou? Do you want to make me a mess on your cock? You’re so dirty when you talk to him like that, but it drives him crazy - and when you grip him tighter and tighter and tighter, it only furthers the feeling. He likes it, too, because your hand almost acts as a sort of cock ring, barring him from accidentally coming much too early - something that’s happened often when he was still left to his own devices with only the thought of you and his pillow to work with. 

His cum is watery and there’s not a huge amount of it. He comes pretty easily, all things considered, but he has a decently short recovery time, and if the worst case scenario occurs (he comes before you), he’s immediately getting onto his stomach and diving between your legs, tongue eagerly working at your clit and his fingers slipping past your swollen folds to curl and rub at you until you’re moaning and clutching onto the pillow under your head. He’ll let himself calm down, and within five minutes he’s normally able to get hard again, and while this time he’ll likely be shooting a blank, he will keep fucking you until you come for him - and this time he’ll have his thumb working at your sensitive little clit the whole time, his pride out the window because he needs you to come, dammit. When he comes he makes this weird little half-shout half-groan, the sound loud and a little bit jarring. He tries to keep quiet for the most part during sex, because no matter how many times you try to tell him that you like his noises, he’s too embarrassed to freely let them out. Besides, he’d rather hear you anyways. But when he’s getting close, he does tend to start blabbering, his voice slurred and the words coming out so quickly that they’re hard to understand. He’s trying to get every thought out in those last few seconds before he comes, because he has all these compliments and sweet nothings that come to mind when he’s fucking you, but he’s too engrossed in the moment and nervous to actually say them, so he waits until the last moment and all you can hear is y’so tight ‘n good, ‘m gonna come in you, fuck let me come, y’so pretty when you’re drippin’ with me and fuck fuck fuck, here it comes take it take it take it-! He writhes when he comes, unable to stay still, his muscles flexing and relaxing over and over again, leaving him to shake on top of you and then promptly collapse onto you. He’s exhausted after he comes, but he’s still attentive to your needs, and even if he’s on the edge of passing out, he’ll make sure to get his fingers stuffed inside you and his lips on your nipples, absolutely anything to guarantee you’re feeling good. His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take control. He’s always a little doubtful of his own abilities, nervous that he’ll do something that you don’t like, even though you aren’t the first girl he’s slept with. He’s just a bit paranoid that he’ll make a mistake and eliminate any form of attraction you feel for him, and so he likes it best when you take the wheel, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, leaning down to kiss him and suck hickies into his neck. He likes when you grind on him, your hips moving against his in circles, your very thin panties (that he’d picked out, with a red face, the last time he’d visited a lingerie shop, having bought a few sets for you after learning your panty and bra size) rubbing up against his boxers, the navy material already stained a darker blue with a copious amount of precum. He wants you to move his hands for him, your grinding never stopping as you situate his large palms against your breasts (already bare, your - his - t-shirt haven’t been discarded across the room), squeezing over his hands to encourage him. He wants you to slowly sink down on him, before setting up a brutal pace, bouncing on top of him with reckless abandon while you smile down at him and hold eye contact. He wants you to move his hands to grope at your ass, while you reach behind you to play with his balls, squeezing lightly and feeling the way he tenses up and warbles your name. He wants you to suddenly switch your positioning, so that you’re facing away from him, your ass exposed to his prying eyes while you roll your hips again, the new angle making access to squeezing his thighs easier. He just wants you to manhandle him, really, because while he may be well over six feet tall and is finishing up his collegiate studies, he’s nothing more than putty in your hands, eager to do anything and everything you want.

He’s roughly five inches, with a moderate girth. Overall, he’s thoroughly average - tufts of brown, curly hair sit at his base and a vein or two decorates his shaft, which slims out a bit as it extends, ending in a round, mushroom-shaped tip that’s always covered by pretty, pink foreskin. He produces a lot of precum, to the point where once you get your hands on him, you’ll be surprised to feel that it’s almost like he’s already slicked himself up with lube. There’s just so much of it - but that’s because once Akira gets hard, he stays hard. No matter how hard he tries to distract himself or will away his erection, it takes at least fifteen minutes for it to go away. Even after he comes, he stays hard for a while - he gets oversensitive very easily, so he’ll try to swat your hand away if you reach for it when it’s still coming down after his release, but secretly he hopes you’ll reach for it again because he’ll begrudgingly let it happen the second time, content and pleased that you want to keep touching him. He stays hard, but actually takes him quite a bit to get hard - even with you, the woman he finds so sexually arousing and desirable that it makes him sick sometimes, he has to have a good mix of stimulation and thoughts to get him ready to go. Generally, if you want to get his cock swelling up and turning a deep pink color, kiss his neck and palm over his crotch, whispering his name in the most sultry voice you can manage, maybe even flicking even lightly biting his earlobe as you whisper into it. He’s not too sensitive, and because of this he tends to last a long time in bed, to the point where if he’s really concentrated and you’re in the right mood, he’ll get you to orgasm at least three times before he gets close. He doesn’t groom himself all that much, figuring that if you really have a problem with it you’ll let him know, and while he keeps everything clean and sanitary, sometimes you end up with a bit of hair in your mouth when you’re sucking him off. 

He doesn’t produce a huge amount of cum, but it’s decent tasting, enough so that you genuinely don’t mind swallowing it. This is good news, because Akira really, really likes when you give him head. His favorite place to come is definitely your mouth, and the feeling of your lips and tongue against him are often the quickest way to get him to orgasm. He’s a fan of pushing himself as deeply into your mouth as he can and then releasing, so that all of it goes directly down your throat, because he likes the idea of his cum being in you, even more than just in your cunt. He’s also satisfied with pulling back and coming all over your face, because while it isn’t quite as satisfying as finishing in your mouth, there’s still something lewd and dirty about it, especially if you open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. He’s pretty quiet in bed, mostly just breathing hard or muttering commands under his breath - they’re never too harsh, just things like keep going or say that again. But when he comes, he takes this long, harsh inhale - it’s not quite a gasp, but it sounds too uneven and heavy to be a normal breath. He’s not one to moan too much naturally, but he tries to push down any sort of noise if possible because he doesn’t want to turn you off in case you don’t like it - even if you try to reassure him, he doesn’t really believe you, and he’ll still do the long-inhale-thing rather than let out the little whimper he really needs to. His whole body jerks when he comes, and this normally ends up lodging him even deeper into whatever hole he’s buried in, which adds extra stimulation to his already sensitive cock, making him hiss and grit his teeth. His face gets red as he gets close, too, and it’s a telltale sign that he’s feeling good when his cheeks start blooming pink, all the way down to his neck and over his collarbones. He gets sweaty, too, exertion and holding back any sounds taking a lot of effort, and often his bangs will get stuck to his forehead.

“do you mind?” you screech out the last word, your heart beating out at your chest.

“i promise i knocked.” he walked in, chuckling with his hand shoved deep into his pockets. he was wearing those stupid gray sweatpants again and if you weren’t so scared right now, your mind would’ve wandered to what happened the last time he wore those. he knew you liked them and wasn’t afraid to sport them around the house. constantly. “seriously, relax, i just came in to check on you.”

“by scaring the shit out of me?” you huff as he climbs into the bed next to you. you cross your arms at the ease of it all, trying to keep your breathing still. at least you could chalk it up to the thunderstorm making you nervous and not the fact that he was inching closer to you.

“that was an accident.” he rolls his eyes. “you know your door gets stuck.”

“yeah because you and makki tried to play jackass and totally fucked up the lock.” the thunder sounded off again but it was mixed with mattsuns laugh. you tried to focus on that sound instead, not realizing you were leaning into him.

“you got me there.” he gives you a lazy smile before looking around. he knew you were scared and were just trying to keep a brave face. “why don’t we go in the living room and watch a movie? we can bring out our blankets and stuff.”

“yeah-“ the thunder cut you off, the lightning flashes throughout the room, casting a fleeting light over mattsuns face. you look at each other for a moment, your eyes holding back so many words that your lips wish to say. but instead you cower from the loud noise and the weight of your own feelings.

“alright let’s go.” he throws the blanket over you like a cape, the warm fabric wrapping itself around you like a safety net. immediately, he’s picking up the rest of your pillows and blankets, waiting for you to walk out of the room first.

you lead the way, taking your time. he follows you out into the room, throwing the pillows down on the floor.

“hey!” you snap at him, hurrying your way over to pick them up.

“what? we’re gonna lay on the floor.” he said like it was obvious. your eyes trail from him to the couch before you roll them.

“alright, fine. go get your stuff then.” you start arranging the pillows and blankets to a makeshift bed. he goes to his room without another word, hurriedly grabbing his stuff before the next thunder sounds off.

he tosses the pillow against your head, causing you to stumble forward. you whirl around, glaring at him as he holds up the other pillow with a goofy grin.

“are you really trying to have a pillow fight with me right now?” you scoff.

“not much of a fight though, is it.” he shrugs, moving closer. your eyes widen as you scoop up the pillow, turning to whack him against the head. he starts laughing, utterly amused at your attempt. 

“shut up.” you sigh, as you move to sit down. mattsun looks panicked for a moment, so split that if you weren’t already looking at him you would’ve missed it. unbeknownst to you, mattsun was trying his best to distract you from the storm outside, trying to keep your attention on him. 

“alright let’s put on a movie, yeah?” he throws down his pillow next to you, it landing with a soft thud before he practically flops onto the mountain of blankets youre perched on.

“what are we gonna watch?” you ask, trying not to look at the raging storm outside and instead focus on the one brewing deep within his dark eyes.

as soon as he turned on the tv, it blew out. in fact, all the lights in the apartment went out. the slight ticking noise of the AC filtering out before thunder overpowered it, booming throughout the room, causing you to smush yourself further into mattsun’s side.

instantly, his arm is around you. “hey, it’s alright. let me light some candles.” he presses a soft, comforting kiss against your head before getting up, making sure the blanket is safely covering you in his absence.

luckily, you had candles stored all throughout the shared apartment. he carefully took them out as well as his trusty lighter. he went around the room lighting each one, racing against the storm. your eyes didn’t leave him. soon enough, the warm glow filled the otherwise dark space, doing its best to combat the bright flashes from outside.

“there.” he said, looking somewhat proud of his job well done before he turned to look at you, almost surprised to see your eyes already set on his. you sat up, the blanket falling off of your shoulders, pooling around your waist. he slinks over to you and sits down on the blankets, easing you down with him as you lay side by side. “it’ll pass soon, im sure of it. just focus on me, okay?”

“okay.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. it was a miracle if he heard it at all. the thunder continued to roar outside and he felt you start to tremble in his arms. he looks at you again, slowly moving in to kiss you on the cheek. 

“focus on my lips,” he says, starting to place sloppy, opened mouthed kisses along your neck. your sleep shirt — or rather, his t shirt– slips down your shoulder, leaving it bare. mattsun wasted no time as he trailed down your neck, leaving more kisses along your exposed skin before making his way back up. 

and whatever he was doing — it was working. instead of focusing on the lightning bolts crashing down outside, all you could do was melt from the kisses he laid upon your skin.

his deft fingers find your chin, pulling you in closer so he can properly kiss you on the lips. he was always a good kisser, taking his time as if it would be a crime not to. molding his lips to yours, savoring each bit as you easily find your rhythm together.

even though the kiss wasn’t explicitly passionate, it still left you breathless all the same. each slow caress stole more oxygen from your lungs until you were practically gasping for air. but he didn’t let up, sliding his hand up your thigh as his lips press against your neck. 

thunder clashed overhead again, causing mattsun’s hold on your thigh to grow tighter, using it as leverage to pull you flush against him as his own legs slot between yours. 

“gonna prep you now.” he mumbles against your neck. his fingers grab a hold of your flimsy sleep shorts and pulls them all the way down, along with your underwear. you gasp out but he swallows it, consuming your air once again. 

“already so wet f’me.” he murmurs in your ear, his lips resting on your lobe. he quickly slips another finger in, pumping both of them quickly to try and stretch you out, relishing in the way you squirm under him.

once the small whine left your lips, he couldn’t hold back anymore. giving you one last peck and sliding down, placing a kiss on each of your thighs before his tongue began to tease your folds.

mattsun could lay between your legs for hours if you let him, taking his time to savor you, having you come undone around him again and again until your thighs trembled around his head. it was his salvation, the answer to his prayers, the fix he needed to get through the night.

but he didn’t have that much time tonight, not when you were in desperate need of distraction. your fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to groan out into your cunt. the vibrations sending you closer to the edge. it was too much — his hips stuttered against the blanketed floor, begging for some sort of relief.

“issei-“ you breathe out. mattsun curses the thunder for trying to eat up your sweet sounds, but he moves back up to you so he can press his lips against yours.

“yes?” he asks, slipping a finger past his waistband and sliding off his sweatpants so he can free his aching cock. he needs to feel you. your breath hitches as it nudges against your thighs, his cock already wantonly twitching the moment he comes into contact with you.

“please, i’m ready.” you squirm in his hold, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. he hisses out in pleasure, his forehead knocking down onto yours as he feels his whole body succumb to you, his craving for you becoming too irresistible.

“okay.” he lets you guide him to your entrance, his tip pressing against your clit and trying to soak up all the slick and spit on your messy cunt. his hand wraps around yours, using it to guide him into you quicker, slowly pushing in. 

the stretch always took a second to adjust to once he was fully seated in your warm cunt, buried at the hilt. his size was no easy feat to take, the overwhelmingly sweet pleasure always accompanied by the slight sting of pain. and he was always so patient, softly peppering your skin with kisses. but tonight, you were too impatient for all of that, desperate to feel him. so you start moving your hips, catching him by surprise.

“slow down.” he grips onto your hips tightly, stilling you in place so he could properly collect himself. you pout up at him, not thrilled about having to wait any longer but you humor him. “i’ll give you what you want, don’t you worry, pretty.”

“then get on with it.” you breathe out as he pulls out of you – his tip nestled back at your entrance. he can feel you clench around him, strategically pulsing in a silent command to hurry up. before he starts, he cages you in his arms, pushing back in and lazily moving his hips with shallow thrusts. a small teasing smile takes up his face at your attempt to be demanding.

“don’t get all bratty on me now, i was just getting started.” his hips start to move faster, his cock practically kissing your cervix. each of his thrusts blurring your thoughts together, your mind growing dizzy from the intense pleasure. he looks at you and chuckles, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head in amusement. “you just wanted to be fucked dumb on my cock, is that it?”

“n-no.” you say, turning your head away from him in slight shame. but he barely lets you as he cusps your chin and pulls your attention back onto him.

“you’re lying now?” the smile on his face turns dastardly and you can’t help but moan as he pulls you tighter to him. feeling him stretch you out, overpower your senses, brings you closer as you teeter on the edge.

the thunder roared outside, but you barely heard it as it melted away in the background. it causes you to jump a little bit but you’re secure in mattsuns arms, his hold tightening. his pace doesn’t relent, in fact, it only speeds up. a softer look graces his features as he remembers what he was trying to do – distract you.

the candlelight caresses his face, intimately wrapping itself around his skin in the way that had you envying the soft light. to be that close to him, to share that space, you wanted more. it’s all feels more soft, muted, like he’s really taking care of you.

you clench around him, causing him to groan as you squeeze his cock, barely letting him pull out. he could never keep his cool around you for too long. 

“you’re so fucking pretty. how’d i get so lucky, huh?” he pulls you in closer, pressing up against you as if the air between you two was intruding in your space.

every time his skin touched yours, something new planted itself in its place, running deep through your veins, directly to your heart. no matter how many times you tried to starve it, neglecting to nourish it — it continued to grow to the point you couldn’t bury it anymore.

you loved him.

and it terrified you.

but it also drew you closer to your edge. 

“sei-“ you call out, your fingers gripping the blanket as you arch your back, your chest pressing against his. you can feel your thighs tightening around his hips, his large hands cupping your backside as he practically lifts your bottom half up to meet his thrusts.

you’ve never felt him this deep, like his cock was lodged all the way up inside of you, piercing your heart. you could barely speak, just babbling his name and letting out mewls of pleasure.

he was fucking you dumb but not dumb enough, as those feelings you’ve been trying to hide slips through the cracks and your faced with the horror of loving him — or rather, the horror of possibly having your heartbroken by him. 

“getting close?” he grunts down at you, his voice raspy and streaked with desperation. you brave yourself to look up at him through half lidded eyes, barely able to open them up all the way. you can feel him twitch inside of you as he lets out a groan — teetering on his own edge but adamant to feel you come undone around him first.

“yes, so, so close-“ you cry as his fingers find your clit again, lightly brushing against it and causing you to spiral down, to a paradise or the depths of hell — you didn’t know. all you knew is that you wanted him to come with you as you clutch onto him, dragging him with you as he fills you up with his cum.

he falls to his elbows, careful not to put all of his weight onto you. he kisses you softly, even though he couldn’t catch his breath. he didn’t want to pull out just yet, but knew that he wanted to clean you up.

with one last kiss to your head, he slides out and hisses at the sting of overstimulation. sliding his pants back on, he quickly makes his way to the bathroom. he’s back in another second with a towel, carefully cleaning you up and sliding his shirt back over your head.

you lay there, letting him take care of you as your hazy mind starts coming to again, swirling with many questions that you decide to wait and face them in the morning. for now, it was just nice to soak up all the affection he was giving you.

“i’m gonna blow out the candles, okay?” he asks you softly. you nod, letting him to his thing before he comes back to you and cradles you close to him, getting settled for the night.

even though the thunder had long since died out, neither of you moved. too lost in the sanctuary of each other's arms, creating a warm, safe space where you could both let your guard down, even just a little bit.

mattsun kisses your head gently as you nuzzle further into him. the two of you drifting off into a peaceful sleep, comfortably wrapped up in the blankets and each other's unspoken love.