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malikselfindulgence · 2 years ago

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MEI X GN!READER ☆ 4.6K WORDS

♡ Cherry flavored chap-stick ♡

AO3 link can be found here!

Description: in which Mei dresses you up for a party, and things simply escalate from there.

Content: reader is not referred to with any pronouns, reader is gender neutral, reader does wear make-up and is referred to as "pretty" "gorgeous", ending could be interpreted as suggestive

Fic under the cut!

You notice Mei's new lip-stick shade immediately.

As soon as she'd walked into the shop, your eyes were drawn to her like a moth to a flame, following the curves of her face as she moves over to the counter. Something felt….different about her today- you think her cheeks shined a Iittle more brightly, and as your gaze falls down to her lips, you finally realise why.

She'd changed her lipstick today- going for a warmer toned pink rather than a cool magenta. The color brought out the warmth in her skin, making her face glow in the orange light of the restaurant.

You liked her usual lipstick shade, too- the cool tones highlighting her eyes and green hair streaks, the color suits her. You think any color would suit Mei, to be honest. But this one…well, it's more glossy, making you look down more than once at her lips mid conversation- she's speaking to MK, thankfully, so you can stare all you want without the worry of being caught.

She's pretty, you think. Her bangs frame her face perfectly, and the scales around her eyes only make her look more ethereal- even the scuffs on her skin and bandages around her hands are endearing. Your eyes fall down to her lips again, and you wonder if the lip-stick is flavored. Maybe it's apple? Dragonfruit? You wonder how it'd taste.

Your thoughts trail dangerously down a path that has your cheeks flushing- you wonder if she'd let you find out, let you press your lips against hers gently, taste the chap-stick on her, smear it prettily down her chin as an imperfect work of art. You wonder if-

Mei clears her throat, and your fantasy-induced haze immediately shatters apart.

You scramble a little in your seat, utterly humiliated at being caught gawking at her like this- or, you assume that's what she's frowning at you for. You wonder for half a second if you can just ask MK to drown you in the kitchen sink to spare you.

"Well?" Mei cocks a brow at you, one hand settling on her hip in a show of annoyance. You quickly look towards MK for help, but all the bastard does is smile cheekily in your direction. You wonder for half a second if you can drown MK in the kitchen sink.

"Well….uh- well, what?"

Her frown only deepens, and you feel a pang of guilt nestle in your chest- you don't want to upset her ever again, and you claw through your thoughts for any recollection of what her and MK had been discussing only to wind up blank.

"We asked if you wanted to come along to the anti-gravity arcade tomorrow- for the p- for the, uh, dress-up event?" MK's voice rings out cheerfully from your right, perhaps feeling merciful on you today. Your shoulders fall down in relief.

"Yeah- yeah, for sure!" You nod, eager to spend more time with them, and watch as Mei's pretty pink lips turn upwards in a smile at your reply, "is there a dress code or anything?"

Mei's gentle smile morphs into a wolfish grin in a matter of seconds, her arm looping around your shoulder to bring you closer into her side. Your body presses up against hers, warmth seeping into you, and you try to will your heart to stop beating so damn fast. It doesn't work.

"You leave that to me. You just come over early so I can glam us up, capiche?" Mei's eyes bore into yours in a way that makes your brain fuzzy, and you find that you couldn't ever say no to her. She could've asked you to rob a bank blind and you'd have nodded with the same eagerness you are now, muttering a quiet "Yeah, sure, sounds great."

Once you've given her confirmation, she slinks away from your side, and your body mourns her touch. The day continues like normal, you piping up every once in a while through MK and Mei's rants about some video game, but you have to look down at your fidgeting hands more than once so you don't end up entranced by her lips once more.

It's only the next morning as you stand at Mei's ridiculously prestigious porch that you realise just what you've gotten yourself into.

You barely flinch as her security system activates, thousands of lasers pointing at your head. You barely talk as she greets you with her gorgeous, stupidly perfect smile and leads you inside, the walk long and painfully slow. You can't hear her over your heart thundering in your ears, your clammy hands grappling onto your sleeves in an attempt to keep themselves busy.

"Right over herreee is my bedroom! You can go ahead and make yourself comfy, I've gotta head over to the bathroom to get my makeup bag," she ends her impromptu tour with a smile and finger-guns, moving past you and into the long hallway across, "be back in a jiffy!"

You wait until she's completely out of sight to walk into her bedroom, settling yourself down at the edge of her bed, legs swinging back and forth anxiously.

Mei was going to 1] dress you up, and 2] do your makeup. Do your makeup, as in cup your cheeks between her soft hands, lean in close enough so she can see every little mark she leaves behind, her eyes furrowed in concentration at your face-

You put your face into your hands, embarrassed by your thoughts. What is up with you lately? Usually it's easier to manage your feelings around her, right now you can't even look her in the face!

You peek one eye between your fingers, looking over her messy room. You'd been here before, of course. Mei had been just a little more open to sleepovers at her place, but only when Pigsy was far too exhausted to hear you three yelling and laughing all night above his bed. You're usually here with MK, though, and the electric energy crackling between him and Mei keeps you all entertained. You'd never gotten a chance to really…look at the place.

You eye the My Chemical Romance poster above the door frame, snorting at the memory of Mei belting out the lyrics during karaoke, MK screaming the words more than singing them. Your gaze falls down to the guitar by her night-stand, your smile turning soft as you recall the few times Mei had played for you. She was skilled, but got frustrated easily once she missed a note, puffing out her cheeks. It was cute to watch.

Your hands fall back down into your lap as you note all the little things that make this space so Mei- the posters, the pillows strewn across the floor, the half-opened comic books, the gaming consoles, the weird mannequin she uses to show off her ties and funny hats, and the-

Ah, the…the plushie you'd won her at the arcade.

It's right next to you on the bed, so it's no surprise you hadn't noticed it till now. You pick it up and turn it over in your hands, tugging at one of its ears. It's a cute green striped cat, it's tongue sticking out playfully. You'd seen it and thought of Mei, and had spent nearly all your coins and a considerable amount of effort on the claw machine to gift it to her. You pull back the tag, seeing a red heart drawn on- you hadn't noticed that when you'd won it, but perhaps you just missed it.

"YOO! I'm back! You ready to look drop-dead gorgeous for tonight?" Mei's voice startles you, your head swiftly moving upwards as she slams the door open and walks inside, multiple make-up bags in hand. She grins at you in excitement, her body practically vibrating with all the ideas of things she can do to you. You feel your heart melt like magma in your rib-cage, and you wonder just how you'll live through this.

"Did you have anything in mind?" You force out through your teeth, breathing in deeply to calm the fuck down. You should not be acting this way- especially not in her room of all places. This was- this was absurd and unfair to her. Your fingers clench and unclench around the plushie before you let go of it, the thought that Mei slept with it in her bed too much to process.

"Do I have anything in mind?" She echoes back at you, scoffing, but her tone is anything but annoyed, "I've been wanting to do your make-up for ages. I've got a whole hoard of ideas."

Your mind rushes at the revelation that she's been wanting this for a long time, thinking about it for a long time- "But first, outfits! It'd suck to get your make-up smudged while changing."

You furrow your brows in confusion, gesturing to your clothes, "I'm…already wearing..my outfit?"

She blinks at you for a minute, eyeing you up and down with growing disdain- you feel embarrassed, if a little insulted, arms wrapping around your chest to hide yourself a little more.

"You- you're not going out in that! You wear this every day!" She squeaks in protest, tugging at your sleeve to showcase the tattered edges.

You pull back your arm indignantly, pouting at her. "Yeah, because it's comfortable, and I like it. Plus, I didn't bring anything else with me."

"Well, because I knew you wouldn't have picked something cute for yourself," Mei starts with a cheeky grin, and you flick at her arm in response, her laughter ringing out through the room, "I did the honours of picking something out for you."

You barely have time to speak before she's rushing into a corner of her room, rummaging around the heap of blankets and clothes to find what she's looking for. Mei had always had impeccable style- even if you weren't pathetically head over heels in love with her, you'd still think she had a way of matching colors and fabrics together that makes even the rattiest of shirts look pleasing to the eyes.

So, no, it's not that you don't trust Mei to pick something nice for you to wear- it's that you don't trust Mei to tone it down for you- while Mei and MK were loud and boisterous, turning heads left and right wherever they went, you preferred to lay back unnoticed. You were their middle ground- reigning them back in by the scruff of their shirts.

So imagine your surprise when you see Mei present the outfit for you, chest puffed out proudly.

It's….pretty. You knew it'd be pretty, of course, but more than that- it fits your style perfectly, with pops of color [mostly green] here and there that don't completely push you out of your comfort zone. You like this outfit a lot, and you're excited to try it on- you think some of the jewellery she's holding out looks familiar.

You must've been silent for a little too long, because she starts rocking back and forth, her smile turning more strained by the second, "I, uh, tried to look through your wish-list and pinterest boards to get something you'd like- you can look through my closets for something different though!-"

You're still reeling from her words- no wonder the jewellery looks familiar, it's in your wish-list, and she'd bought it for you specifically, and holy shit you need to say something before she overthinks herself into oblivion-

"It's…nice- really nice. It's really pretty." You mumble out, smiling towards her as you reach out to thumb at the fabric, tugging it into your arms. Your heart feels as though it'll burst out of your chest just so it can find its way to her.

Mei's shoulders slump in relief, her usual cheery attitude bouncing back.

"Duh, I picked it, it's gonna be pretty. Now shoo! Go change so we can start on make-up."

You snicker heartily at her obvious excitement as she hurries you towards her dressing room, walking in and shutting the door behind you.

You tug off your current outfit, leaving it on the chair by the mirror. You take this moment away from her gaze to slump against the door-frame, squealing into your hands silently like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Your smile is giddy and bashful as you put on your outfit- the outfit she'd specifically catered to you, based on your interests and favorite colors- admiring yourself in the mirror between each layer. Once again, Mei didn't fail to deliver. You looked good. You strike a ridiculous pose in the mirror, giggling at your childishness. Perhaps Mei was rubbing off on you too much.

You take a deep breath in to calm yourself down before leaving through the door, trying to keep your grin hidden. Your clothes fit around your body snugly, and the jewellery matches your eyes and hair. The shade of green endowed throughout your outfit matches Mei's hair streaks, you notice with a fluster.

You sit down on the bed and wait for Mei to leave her dressing room- which you're still appalled by, because who even needs two dressing rooms?- wondering if she'll wear something entirely new or repurpose one of her old outfits.

You hear the door creak open this time, glancing upwards as Mei walks in, hollering at you, "Wooh! Looks just as good as I imagined, maybe even a little better." She nudges your shoulder playfully, her cheeks flushed and pink. "Seriously, though, you look good."

"Oh." You breathe out, gaping at her with wide eyes.

Mei looks….Mei looks gorgeous. She's wearing a white button-up shirt, the first few buttons undone to reveal inch above inch of tantalising skin. Right under is a pretty corset that cinches her waist, with a short slitted skirt to match, highlighting her toned scarred legs. Her sleeves are folded upwards, showing off her muscles. You feel your face heat the longer you stare, her earrings glinting in the light, bangles strumming together in a harmonious tune as her hands move aside with a flourish.

She strikes a pose even more ridiculous than the one you had earlier in the hopes of making you laugh, and it works, your concealed snickering dissolving into full-blown giggling the longer she keeps this up, modelling for a camera that isn't there- or perhaps she's just modelling for you.

"So? What are we thinkin'?" She makes a little kissy-face towards you and you pretend that didn't get your heart thumping, "You think we'll be voted cutest couple?"

Okay- you can't pretend that didn't send a shiver racing down your spine. You splutter at her words, hands wringing each other nervously before she barks out a laugh and lets up on the posing, arms falling down to her sides.

"I'm just joking. I wouldn't complain if you complimented me juusstt a little, though."

You ignore the pang in your heart at her words, your giggles dying down into a gentle quirk of your lips. "You look nice, Mei, we already know- and thank you…for the outfit, by the way." You answer sincerely, squinting at her earrings. You don't think she'd ever worn those colors before- it struck out to you.

"New jewellery? You don't usually wear things like this…" You wonder aloud, your hand moving to dangle at her earrings, fingers brushing against her cheek by accident. Your skin burns where you touch her, and you wonder if she can feel it, too.

Mei gulps audibly, "Yeah, it- it's new. Wanted to match with you."

You look up at her through your lashes, heart beating so rapidly in your chest you're afraid she can hear it. Each and every time you think you can control yourself around her, she always just- just says things that pull your feet out from under you. She smiles down at you, a little strained, her hand moving up to hold onto yours, the one still pressed up against her cheek.

"That's really- really considerate, and nice of you." You pull back, and you try to ignore the implications behind the way Mei's expression crumples. You send a smile her way, tugging at your sleeve. You have to- you have to stop seeing things that aren't there. Thinking that Mei liked you was only wishful thinking.

You had her already, like this, and that was enough for you. It had to be enough for you.

"Well, Red Son and MK always match- granted MK practically forces them to, buuuttt that leaves us behind, so we gotta stick together, right?"

You nod at her answer, your heart clenching painfully right in your rib-cage. Of course that's why she wanted to match with you- she was joking about the cutest couple thing earlier. You have to stop.

Mei claps her hands together to catch your quickly declining attention, grin back in place. "Now, make-up!"

Ah- you'd…almost forgotten, despite that being the main thing you'd come here for.

She gestures towards the chair by her vanity mirror, and you wordlessly follow her request, settling down into it, spinning it around so you're facing her. She recovers quite quickly from your…moments- you try to give her the same mercy she serves you.

"I'm gonna make our eyeshadow colors compliment each other- but you can always let me know if you're not liking the colors, alright?" She reassures you, opening her cat-themed bag to start laying out the brushes and pallets, "I can just brush up my own make-up after."

You nod soundlessly, afraid that if you so much as breathe in her direction she'll notice how flustered and tense you are. She takes your chin between her fore-finger and thumb, leaning down to look at you closely, her tongue poking out in concentration.

You think you might collapse into a heap of pathetic goo in this chair. She's so close- so so so close- close enough you can see every little blemish and feckle on her face, the way her scales shimmer in the light, almost translucent, the way her lips pucker as she pats your eyes gently with the brush, focused on getting the lines just right.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur- you can only remember your hands clenching around your pants, your shoulders set rigidly in place. You remember her fingers pressing against your jaw, positioning it the way she likes, and her hair tickling your skin as she leans in to fix up your eye-liner. You remember the air crackling between you two, and you were sure she felt it- her breath hitching each time she noticed you staring at her, the nervous swinging of her legs.

"All done! Yeesh, you can relax now." Mei smirks down at you, pulling backwards and letting the cool air flood the space between you both. You pause for a second, trying to get yourself together, spinning the chair around so you can look in the mirror. She'd shown you progress in a little hand-held mirror, of course, but seeing your make-up paired with your outfit punched the breath out of your lungs.

If you thought the outfit alone looked good- you were drop dead gorgeous now, just as she'd said- you're not sure how she managed to keep the imperfections on your face, refusing to use a foundation base, while still making them look right. Like they fit there. The blush she'd used made your cheeks glow, and the highlighter only served to make your natural features shine. You see her face in the mirror, her eyes roaming your features. She doesn't look pleased.

"Nope- something doesn't look right." She says with a huff, rummaging through her drawer. You're not sure what she's looking for that could bring the look together.

"I dunno what you mean- you made me look great. Definitely gonna win best couple now." You can't help but let it slip in a sorry attempt to cheer her up- and you both immediately pause as soon as the words escape your mouth. Her face is hidden behind her bangs as she leans into the drawer, but you think you see the hint of a blush against her cheeks. You wonder if it really was wishful thinking after all.

That's when you see it- a pretty pink lipstick, the shade strikingly similar to the one she'd worn yesterday, you think it's the same one, if anything. You tap her arm. "Maybe- uh, that new lip-stick you wore at Pigsy's last night? I think it looks pretty cute."

She hums, bringing it out the drawer before shutting it with her hip. She unscrews the lid, swiping it across her lips casually, and your blood rushes to your face. "You noticed it was new?" She says with a shy smile, looking at you, lights dancing in her eyes.

"Well- yeah, you usually only wear the same shade, so it makes sense for me to-" Your blabber comes to a stop as she puts her finger right up against your lip, watching Mei laugh for a minute, stunned.

"I was just teasing you, no need to get so worked up. I saw you staring, anyways, and I'm flattered." She says with a nonchalant tone like she didn't just drop a bomb on you in your already frazzled state, "Good to know it was because you think my lips are pretty and not because I had sauce on my face."

You think you can feel steam pouring out the top of your head, because you honest to god can't believe Mei just said that- she moves back to rummaging in a different drawer, and her bangs do little to conceal her grin this time.

She brings out a different tube of lip-stick, and you try not to act too disappointed that you won't be using the same one she did. You still wonder how it tastes.

She tugs your chin back into her palm, starting to apply the rouge to your mouth. Your lips tingle at the contact, and you picture the press of her lips against yours instead, wondering how she'd taste. You don't think you're imagining the tension between you two, now.

"Hmm…" Mei hums, and even though the hand with the tube falls down once she's done, her other hand remains cupping your jaw, thumb rubbing under your lip to clean up the lip-stick. Her eyes are half-lidded, and a contemplative look crosses her face for a second.

She leans in closer, closer, closer. Her palm cradles your face gently, keeping it in place. You hold your breath. She waits for a moment, giving you the chance to pull away. You wouldn't ever dream of it.

You're barely inches away now, her nose brushing against yours. You feel her breath, hot on your cheeks, and your body shivers in delight. Her eyes fall down to your lips for a split-second, and she finally leans in-

And moves a little to the side at the last second.

Her lips end up just at the corner of your own, pressing firmly. She lingers for a while, and you feel both frustration and adoration bubble up inside you, a flurry of butterflies erupting in your stomach. If you'd had just a smidge more courage, you'd have pulled her into you for a proper kiss immediately.

She pulls back, still close enough to make your heart rush with heat, admiring her work. There's a pink lip-stick stain at the corner of your mouth, smeared a little to the left, marring your otherwise clean makeup.

"You know, I thought the asymmetry would make you look less perfect-" She starts, voice quivering, "but I think it just did the opposite."

Mei stares down at you, a little nervous, a little bashful, but happy. Her own lip-stick is a little messed up now, too. You don't think you've ever seen a prettier sight. You want to find out what her lips taste like.

You grab at her shirt collar, and her eyes widen for a moment before you pull her into you, lips melding together messily. Your eyes are screwed shut, and you only start to relax once she starts kissing you back, pressing insistently against your lips. The lip-stick clatters to the floor, but neither of you pay it any mind.

Her hands settle on your hips, tugging you closer, closer, pressing your front up against hers. Your hands tangle in her hair, tugging at it lightly, and the muffled moan she lets out against your mouth sends a rush of heat through your body. You can't get enough of her- her taste is addicting, and you hazily wonder why you hadn't done this sooner.

Your tongue pokes out against her lips, and her hold around your waist tightens. You pull backwards just an inch, enough to speak, whispering hurriedly, "cherry."

She stares at you, eyes foggy, breath coming out in pants, "whuh?"

"Your lip-stick. Tastes like cherry. I was wondering earlier." You mumble against her skin, nuzzling your face into her cheek as you speak. Her chest shakes with laughter against yours, "That's what you were really glaring at me for?"

Mei pushes you forward, your back straining against the foot of her bed. She keeps going, your body flopping on the bed unceremoniously, hers following after you. She stays above you, caging you between her arms and thighs. She smirks at you and your heartbeat rushes through your ears.

"If you wanted to know so bad, you could've just asked." She says with a snicker, her head angling itself towards yours, breaths mingling together, "Now you've got me wondering what yours tastes like."

You're about to tell her to shut up and kiss you when the atmosphere is promptly shattered when her phone starts to ring, Welcome To The Black Parade being her ring-tone.

Mei tries to ignore it, flopping down on top of you. She groans into your chest, "god, what does MK want? Now? Really?"

You clamber upwards, frantically reaching for her phone on the night-stand, "shit, Mei, the party!" You click her phone open, the screen showing you that you're a full two hours late.

"Just- hand it over here." She grumbles, and you do so without a complaint. She swipes right to answer the call, "Hellooo-"

You can't quite hear what MK's saying, you just know he's shouting real loud- or maybe that's the background noise? You're not sure, but whatever it is makes Mei gasp.

They talk for a minute, Mei cackling at every word MK says on the other end- you think you catch a few mentions of Red Son, something about the building shutting down?-

Mei says her goodbyes quickly, hanging up before MK even replies. She's grinning at you, excited and elated.

"What'd he tell you?" You ask, hand threading through her hair. She giggles for a second, trying to get the words out.

"He- god, we should've been there- Red Son's cap fell off while he was- hah- dancing, and apparently everyone recognised him immediately, and they tried to kick him and MK out-" her words dissolve into laughter, and you laugh alongside her.

Once you both quiet down, you brush her hair behind her ear, pursing your lips. "So…no party, then?"

Mei's smile turns pleased, her hands settling back around you, "Nope. We've got the whole night to ourselves."

You peck her lips quickly, "better make the most of it, then."

You're both late to group breakfast the next day, and despite MK's pestering questions, you don't explain why.

You and Mei share a knowing smile across the booth, fingers intertwining under the table as you eat. When she moves to re-apply her lip-stick after her meal, you ask her if you can have it, too. She leans in and kisses you, short and sweet, and you thank her while MK gawks behind you.

#hope you all enjoy!!#remember that requests r open!#probs wont be as long as this since it was purely self indulgent #lmk #lmk mei #lmk x reader #mei x reader #lmk mei x reader #x reader #malik's writing #mostly cutesie i would say #:33 #tips appreciated btww!!#pretty new to this still TwT #lego monkie kid x reader

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burgojo · 3 months ago

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27 CLUB. GETO / M!READER / GOJO

summary. satoru's crushing on suguru but finds out he's got a boyfriend! you are, however, equally dreamy, and if satoru was capable of such introspection, he might realise he has a type...

wc. 9.7k

tags. smut | dom top reader, switch bottom geto, sub bottom gojo; established geto/reader. non-sorcerer + rock/metal musician reader, reader is described as a big guy. skinny gojo supremacy, geto with piercings. somno, riding, doggystyle, exhibitionism, dub-con, degradation/praise, daddy kink (once; r. receiving), humiliation, gojo's a crybaby, edging, frotting, choking, overstimulation, gojo gets passed between reader + geto for a bit

"You brought me to a dive bar? Lame."

Suguru's brow twitches, but he says nothing – outwardly. "You were the one begging me to let you come with. Pick a side."

"I'm on the side of good music. I don't want to hear screeching kids out past their bedtimes."

"You think that's the sort of thing I listen to?"

"I mean," Satoru waves a hand in Suguru's general direction, eyeing his choice of clothes, "your outfit has so many holes in it. You could pass as a rebellious delinquent. Like one of them gyarus."

"I do not—" Suguru inhales, shaking his head; leave it to Satoru to think fishnets and cropped shirts count as clothes full of holes. His bangs sway over his eyes; for the first time in perhaps forever, his hair is loose. Satoru can't take his eyes off it when it shines blue-black under the street's neon lights. "I'm not falling for that again. Now, stop dragging your feet. We're here."

They halt in front of a big, dark block of cement. Its windows are blacked out with curtains, and years' worth of posters pasted to the walls overlap, flaking and peeling until only the fuzzy back sliver of the paper remains. The dates on the posters keep changing – the oldest one is from 1998. The ones on top are advertising weeks in the future, up to a month, and the shitty photo-editing reeks of their garage-band histories and amateurish natures.

One of the posters catches Satoru's attention. A young, attractive woman with dark hair and very few clothes on smoulders at him.

With a question on the tip of his tongue, Suguru approaches his side and follows his gaze questioningly. The eye-roll he gives is so quick it's almost pre-emptive. With a hand draped in black and silver jewellery, he grabs the back of Satoru's collar and hauls him away, almost lifting him clean off his feet. "Goodness, Satoru... Have some decency for once in your life."

"Hey! I thought you'd appreciate me taking an interest in your hobbies. And be gentle with that! It's designer!"

Suguru only lets go at the bottom of the stairs, where the evening light abruptly dims and every surface becomes twenty per cent stickier. Satoru grimaces at the palm of his hand, having caught himself against the wall when Suguru tossed him into the dingy basement like a sack of potatoes.

"This place is a real trash heap," he complains – or shouts, rather. The bass in the music rattles his bones like maracas. The place is less like a bar and more like a club. His sunglasses slip down his nose from the vibrations alone, and he pushes them up with a disapproving sniff. "Why couldn't we stay above ground? There seemed to be a perfectly okay bar up on the roof. Looked real nice and moody, too – good for dates."

"Because up there, they have to actually believe your ID," he says in a tone that adds the 'stupid' at the end for him. Without waiting for a response, Suguru pushes his hands into his pockets and leads the way into the bar. He waltzes up to the bartender, who seems to be between patrons. She dries a rocks glass in her hands. Her head bobs loosely to the beat of the live music.

He lifts two fingers. "Beer, please. Whatever's cheapest."

Satoru makes a noise at the back of his throat.

"It's not for you. Geez, Satoru, the world doesn't always revolve around you," he sighs exaggeratedly and flicks his bangs out of his eyes to meet Satoru's gaze. He smirks. "You want something to drink?" He points at the tiny backboard propped up beside him on the countertop, detailing a range of drinks and their prices. "Here are their non-alcoholics. If it won't make you sick, I recommend the raspberry float."

"Then I'll get that." Satoru leans against the bar in the space between Suguru's stool and the next. He shifts, trying to appear natural, and he places his other hand in the pocket of his jacket. He really doesn't need it in this cramped bar – not with the number of people crowding around, driving up the heat.

At the other end of the room, a large group stands at the base of a raised stage. The trio upon it complete sturdy rock covers of popular songs on the radio. They make for exciting listening, though their sound isn't what Satoru usually goes for.

Suguru flags down the bartender for Satoru's bright pink sugar abomination, and she drops off his two beers with a nod. Satoru doesn't have the time to wonder about them further before Suguru turns to him with a wry smirk.

"Sit down, greenie. You look like an idiot."

"And you don't?" he retorts, but hops up on a stool anyway. He prods the glistening mug of beer closest to him, inspecting the amber liquid within, and lifts his eyes.

What surprises him is that Suguru isn't looking at him – or at his drinks, either. Isn't one of the first rules of going to a bar ensuring one's drinks are always within sight?

He tilts his head, a light crease marring his brow. "Suguru? What're you looking at? Pay attention to me. I'm bored."

"I'm looking for someone," he replies coolly, scanning the crowds near the stage. With a sigh and a slump of the shoulders, he glances over at Satoru with a small smile, resting his elbow on the bar. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted. I haven't come here in a while, you see."

Satoru doesn't see – which is ironic – and wants to ask. But asking means he'll look his way, and that means Satoru won't be able to admire Suguru's pretty feline features for as long as he'd like. He'd get all embarrassed about it and growl at him.

Propping his chin on his knuckles, Satoru traces each curve and plane of Suguru's features with his eyes, committing every line to memory. Suguru won't always be this young, and the dim neon lighting is so nice on his skin, cutting deep shadows across the soft fantasy of his face.

Purple and green. Fitting, for a place called the Viper Lounge.

"Satoru. Your drink is here."

With a blink, he straightens up, and the pretty bartender lady shoots a knowing wink his way. The tall pink drink almost glows under the lights, and the float bobs with the tiny streams of fizzing soda bubbles that rise to the top.

Smiling to himself, Suguru glances back at the stage as Satoru's unyielding attention averts to the bartender, bothering her for a matching pink drink umbrella. The room is painted black, like a secret born to the night, and the stage matches the paint job. It makes its users seem to float several feet off the ground.

He taps his cheek with a soft sigh, fiddling with his brow piercing. His hair catches on it sometimes, but that's the price he must pay.

He watches Satoru absently. Where were you? Had your schedule changed in the weeks he'd been busy?

Then, with the faint echo of the microphone, an all-too familiar voice:

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

The leap from silence into rapid metal is violent. The drums beat lifeblood through veins. Steel shreds the guitar. Bass peels flesh from bone and snaps it back together.

Suguru's reverie shatters like glass.

There you are. Tall with confidence, clad in leather and denim. Your hair's shorter than he last remembers, but wilder, already-damp strands of hair sticking to your temples as if fresh from a romp in the sheets. Jewellery glints under the moody stage lights, and it's hypnotic, the way you charge up the crowd with your voice and your guitar. The amp by your feet is beat-up and worn, having played stepping stool to leather boots too many times, but it explodes with sound. Your sound.

You've got a quartet for a band, all faces made familiar through his connections with you. His heart flutters at the memory of your arm slung around his waist, pulling him into your side as you laugh at something your drummer said.

Satoru's head tilts as Suguru slides off the seat and grabs the two beers. "Suguru? Hey! Where are you going?"

It's too loud to hear him, what with the singing and the screaming and the heavy thump-thump-thump of drunken dancers jumping around. Suguru weaves through the crowd of crying fans – mostly girls; your bassist is your only female member – and it's easy to recognise him, his physical training and broad body letting him part the drunken gaggle just by walking forward and keeping balance.

He reaches the front of the crowd and lifts his face to you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes are endless in the shadowy room, and the way he raises the mug of beer feels like the hand of the devil. His tongue toys with his snakebite piercings, the soft pink of it peeking past his lips like a taunt.

During the lull of the song's vocals, you crouch down, avoiding the stares and grabbing hands of dozens of fans. You grip the beer – Suguru's smile widens – and rise to your feet. The rim's already at your lips, and rapid bob of your Adam's apple as you swallow invokes a wave of screams and a chant of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" that fills the bar.

Droplets run down your throat and soak into the collar of your shirt. Your skin glistens. Sweat dampens your throat and the furrow of your brow.

As the melody builds to a crescendo, you slam down the empty mug and launch into the song's chorus, the rough metal gravel of your voice sending more than one fan into hysterics.

Suguru watches the way your fingers fly over the guitar neck with impossible ease, smiling into his beer at the memories of those same fingers wrapped around his neck, his hips, his—

An arm falls over his shoulders. "Suguru! Don't run off like that again! Where you go, I go."

He glances over his shoulder. Satoru's almost shouting in his ear, and some ways behind him, he spots at the bar the empty glass with the pink umbrella balanced recklessly on the rim.

"Sorry," he shouts back, a sheepish, apologetic grin on his lips. "Got carried away. Did you like your drink?"

"Yeah," he says above the noise. "C'mon, hard to talk here! Let's find a booth."

Satoru slips in on one side, and Suguru takes the other. The deep red leather of the seats feels decadent in the low lighting, the same way velvet and jewels go together. Satoru peers over his glasses at Suguru with a shit-eating grin.

"Not gonna lie to you," he begins. "I'm pretty sure that normie over there was eyeing you up like a piece of candy."

There's a twang to his words, and Suguru smiles behind his glass of beer, leaning in and peering at Satoru closely. Nearly imperceptibly, Satoru leans away.

He straightens. "Are you jealous?" he says, almost in disbelief. "No way."

A pause.

"What?" he laughs, waving a hand as if to disperse the very thought from the air. "Jealous? Me? Of him? Don't make me laugh, Suguru. I'm way cooler! And better-looking."

"I'm not sure," Suguru hums, sparing a glance at the fans trying their damndest to touch the singer's steel-capped boots. "For starters, he drinks well."

"Don't say 'for starters' like you're about to dive into a list of compliments." Satoru pouts, crossing his arms. "Is he the person you were looking for earlier?"

"Mmh. He's got a good voice, doesn't he?"

"He sounds like he smokes three packs a day. But you don't care what I think, do you? You've already made up your mind."

Suguru chuckles, vanishing about half of his drink in two gulps. It's rather impressive. "That sound is raw talent and cultivated skill. You sound like you hate him."

"Nah, you're just trying too hard for a guy in some no-name garage band. Did you see his clothes?" He peers over his glasses at his friend. "They're western brands. Not cheap here. He's a total poser."

"But he looks good in them, right?"

"Eh. So-so."

"I bought them for him."

"I mean, they fit well on him. And they match the whole 'rockerboy' thing, but that's more because of you than him."

He hides his grin behind his beer, sipping on what remains to nurse it until your gig ends. Satoru's too predictable.

—

Later, Suguru ventures into the staff lounge with Satoru on his heels. Pleasantly warm with alcohol, he finds you alone by the couch, one boot kicked up on the footstool and an arm thrown over your eyes. Your chest rises and falls slowly with your breaths, and Suguru quietly slips around the furniture to take a seat next to you. He grasps your forearm and lowers it.

Satoru stares.

You're handsome. He gets it now.

One eye cracks open. Your hazy eyes pass over Satoru as if he's not even there – how annoying – and land on Suguru. Your gaze brightens and you sit up, lowering your boots to the ground.

"Oh, it's you!"

Your voice is surprisingly mellow, low and smooth like caramel. Despite your neutral affect – and the fact that you're not even addressing him – Satoru's cheeks warm.

"It's me." Suguru's voice is soft.

You gaze at him a while longer, the pause filled with your bright, contradicting smile. Then you grunt and sit forward with your elbows on your knees, your leather jacket creaking quietly. "My favourite man. What can I do you for?"

"You're too sweet, YN," he says, a flicker of shyness crossing his features. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Your brow furrows and you sigh, glancing aside. "I know, I'm sorry, doll. It's been difficult trying to adjust to my new job – just been dead tired all the time. Anyway – what is this, an interrogation? You gonna introduce me to your buddy or what?"

You cock your head up at Satoru, who stands in front of you with his hands in his pockets. With Suguru to your side and the corner of the room on the other, you have nowhere to go.

Suguru spares a glance at his friend. "Satoru, sit down." He turns back to you. "He wanted to come and I couldn't stop him. Just ignore him. I wanted to talk to you."

"Sure. What about?"

He places a hand on your knee. His nails are painted black. "I really wanna stay at your place."

If Satoru wasn't watching closely, he would've missed the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. He has to commend you – you smother it quickly.

"Tonight?"

"Mhm." He shuffles closer to you. His fingers twitch as he glances down at your hand, as if he has to suppress the urge to take it in his own. "Thought we could catch up a bit – braid each other's hair, do our nails, the whole nine yards."

You blink. "That's... awfully forward of you. You usually dance around these things until I finally figure it out."

His lips twitch up. "I can be direct when I want to be."

"Oh, so you just enjoy riling me up."

"I like what comes after."

Suguru's head tilts slightly, and your faces are an inch apart. His eyes flicker to your lips.

"Of course you can stay, Suguru," you murmur, your expression softening. "I'm glad you came here."

"Even though I'm breaking the rules?"

"My whole shtick is being counter-culture. That includes disobeying rules when they're stupid."

"When they're stupid," he echoes. He smiles, his dimples losing him his tough-guy persona. He bumps your shoulder with his, tucking his loose hair behind his ear. "Are you staying here for any reason?"

You shake your head. "Been paid and everything. I'm just abusing the couch for an air-conditioned nap. The others are going clubbing in a few hours if you want to meet up with 'em and say hi."

"Did you want to go?"

"Nah. I had a killer headache last night and don't want it coming back. Mostly, I planned to bake something."

Satoru can't hold it in any longer. "You bake?"

Two sets of eyes swivel to him where he stands by the fridge, checking out its contents.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to Suguru and stretch, resting an arm over the backrest behind his shoulders. A classic, almost dorky move, and one you do all the time, but Suguru's heart still flutters. "Who is this guy, by the way? Why's he wearing sunglasses inside? You're not cool, dude."

"I have sensitive eyes," he declares, pointing overhead at the bright, artificial white lights. "Name's Satoru."

You raise a brow. "I think you've been mentioned once. Last name?"

"Need-to-know basis."

You narrow your eyes at him.

Suguru interrupts the staring contest, shoving himself into your line of sight. "You said you had a headache. Are you okay?"

You drop the glare and smile at Suguru, squeezing his shoulder. "Mm, don't worry about it, baby. Nothing a few painkillers can't solve."

He lifts a hand to your face, tracing the shape of your cheek with his knuckles. His touch is so light it almost tickles. "If you say so. Don't forget to sleep more. It's not good for your skin."

You offer a fond smile. While swiping a few chocolates from the bowl on the table, Satoru notices how Suguru leans into your touch and how he presses his side into yours as much as he can, thighs and shoulders brushing. He didn't know he was... that sort of person.

Rather vacantly, Satoru thinks he should be more upset right now. After all, he's been pining after Suguru for the past year, and now he finds out that Suguru's got some normie with tight leather pants falling into his bed? He was planning on confessing after Suguru's birthday, but he supposes he should trash that plan.

Fuck. Awkward.

"Hey, Satoru." Suguru's soft voice draws him out of his thoughts. "YN wants to try a new recipe. Wanna come with?"

"You're gonna be my guinea pigs," you agree. Your heavy gaze rakes Satoru's body, and he suppresses a warm shiver. "Or my little white mouse."

Satoru tries to ignore his blush. He straightens, pocketing another chocolate. "You don't care about inviting a stranger to your house?"

"Any friend of Suguru's is a friend of mine." You stand and stretch with a pleased groan that feels far too intimate. "I don't have shit worth stealing, anyway, unless you count my banged-up guitar. It's, like, twenty years old."

"Not old enough to be vintage, too young to be seriously desirable." Suguru sighs, slumping against your side dramatically as you pass through the door together. "Story of my life."

"Ew. Don't joke about that." You glance past Suguru – Satoru's eyes, you notice past the glasses, are an unexpected shade of cornflower blue. "Hey, Baby Blues. How'd you two meet?"

"Hm? Oh, high school."

"Ah, you two are the same age?"

"Same class and everything," Suguru says as you wander towards your car, the keys jingling in your pocket as you try to find the correct one by touch alone. There's a shadow of a guitar case in the back of the car. "Can't get rid of him anymore."

"That just means you always have someone to shout you a drink or two." You pull open the door for Suguru and draw a vaguely round shape in the air with a finger. "Karma's a circle."

"Yeah? And where are you in that circle?"

Swiftly, you shut the door and turn to Satoru, nodding your head in the direction of the car. "Hop in, Blue! You'll be glad you came when you try my tiramisu."

—

Some time later, Satoru finds himself on your soft leather couch, nursing a very flushed Suguru on his left and a less-flushed you on his right. You cackle at his attempts to take the game controller off Suguru, and when Suguru gets touchier in order to body-block him, you can tell from his flustered expression that he doesn't really know how to deal with it when you're right there.

"I'm fine," Suguru sighs, batting Satoru's hands off. He leans in further, trying to push him back, when he persists. "Satoru, you're blocking my view with your big head! It's your fault if I die."

You own a PS2 with a pretty neat collection of games. Suguru is doing less than well with Metal Gear Solid 3.

"Let me have a turn," Satoru pleads, pouting when Suguru expertly weaves the controller away from him. He's had years of practice with it. "I'm so good at stealth games! Lemme try, I wanna go—"

"Just say you wanna impress YN. It's less desperate, man."

Satoru's jaw snaps shut with an audible click. His eyes are so blue that Suguru can see the shine of them behind his almost-opaque glasses.

Suguru smirks and shifts on the couch, tossing his legs over Satoru's lap victoriously. He settles comfortably among the pillows and returns his attention to the television.

"W-What?" he stutters. Did he hear that right? Was he drunk on the tiramisu's brandy?

"It's okay," Suguru says, sneaking past a guard successfully. He smiles victoriously, lip piercings glinting in the light. "I wouldn't mind sharing if it was you. Have you seen the size of him? I can't eat all that by myself."

You chuckle, one arm slung over the back of the couch. In your other hand is a brandy glass, the dark amber alcohol you used in the tiramisu sparkling under the light as you gesture with the glass. "Dunno 'bout that last bit. You try pretty hard to."

"I don't like leaving my meals half-finished. I'm also generous to those less fortunate – Satoru's never dated anyone, you know? I wouldn't want him getting hurt by some selfish asshole because he doesn't know any better. That's why I think you'd be good for him."

The colour of Satoru's face rivals Suguru's. He rubs his cheeks, sinking into the couch. "Stop telling him my life story! You're making me sound really uncool. You're so wasted, Suguru – is this what you're like outside of school?"

"I'm not that far gone," Suguru groans, controller going limp in his hand. He reaches around Satoru to give it to you, which you accept – you immediately start blitzing through the in-game building, attention now completely elsewhere. He levels him with an unimpressed stare. "I could probably take you right now."

"You want to fight me in your boyfriend's apartment?" Satoru squawks. "He made food for you! Control yourself. Gosh..."

"'Control thine emotions'," he mocks. "I'm perfectly in control. You need to admit that you like my boyfriend."

"I don't." Panic drips from his voice.

"You totally do. It's cute – I've never seen you with a crush on anyone. A rich boy liking an underground rockstar? Embarrassing. I've read that manga before."

"No, I don't – I'm not a manga protag—" He cuts himself off, jabbing a finger into Suguru's chest. "I just have eyes, okay? I can tell when someone's, like, visually appealing. You're visually appealing. Doesn't mean I'm going goo-goo over you."

With a roll of his neck, Suguru leans in, propping his elbow on his shoulder. He levels his gaze at him, blinking slowly.

He sucks in a breath. He can smell his honey-scented shampoo. He's holding on by the skin of his teeth.

"A-And," Satoru continues, shifting in his seat. How incredibly unfortunate it is that he's sitting between you and Suguru. Why is that, anyway? Weren't you the ones dating? "You're being weird. Who the fuck talks about this? Like, seriously."

"YN and I talk like this all the time. You're just a prude." He sticks out his tongue, and the flash of a silver piercing studded into his tongue leaves Satoru breathless and shocked. He scrambles forward, reaching towards him, and pinches Suguru's jaw with one hand.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaims, brows furrowing. Memories of the previous conversation are all but gone.

Suguru lifts an eyebrow, glancing aside. He'd almost forgotten how strong Satoru can be. "What's what?"

"That." He shifts his grip, forcing Suguru's lips to part. His tongue flicks against his front teeth, and the little silver ball catches the light.

"A pierthing," he replies, muffled. He lets Satoru, alarmed at their sudden closeness, pull away first with a scandalised blush. Suguru rubs his cheeks and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, showing it off with a glint in his dark eyes.

Satoru stares. How is his tongue so long?

"Cool, right? I wanted to match YN's look. It makes us look ten times better than the next couple."

He blinks himself out of his daze. "Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as you'd think. I had to get used to talking with it, though – I was lisping like crazy while it healed. I was thinking of getting a septum piercing to balance it out – or just more on the ears."

"You never tell me anything." He pouts. "How'd I never notice it...?"

"You think I don't tell you things? Fine. How about this?" Suguru shuffles forward and drapes an arm over Satoru's shoulders. He offers a lazy smirk and cups a hand by Satoru's ear. "It makes guys feel great."

His heartbeat pounds in his skull. He swears Suguru glances down at his lips – but that could be his woozy double vision. His hair looks so soft...

"Done," you announce, setting the controller in Satoru's lap – he picks it up hastily before Suguru can nab it. He huffs and crosses his arms, empty-handed. "Your turn, Blue. I wanna see some slick action, or we both get to watch Suguru struggle with holding people up."

"I am not that bad!" he snaps. "The controller buttons are sticky."

"A bad workman blames his tools," Satoru says automatically.

He immediately begins to argue.

Hm. You can see why Suguru's so endeared with the white-haired man, especially when he takes off his glasses to blink his huge, glossy blue eyes up at him. He's pouting, Suguru's waving his arms around, and you're certain you've got enough room in your bed for three.

—

In the darkness of your bedroom, you're slowly dragged from the depths of sleep by a weight above you. Your brow furrows, a little grumble falling from your lips, as hands trail down the sides of your face and play with your hair.

"YN."

You release a soft breath.

"YN. Wake up."

Your eyes crack open, and you find yourself frowning up at Suguru's shadowy figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you notice that he's not wearing any pants.

He shifts on your lap, face inches from yours. His long hair is swept over his shoulder, slightly messy with sleep. His eyes, however, are perfectly awake, staring down at you with an animal hunger.

"Hey, you," he whispers fondly, barely a breath. He lowers his body over yours even further until your chests press together. You wrap a lazy arm around his waist. "Need you, baby."

"Suguru," you whisper back, only just now noticing the state of your boxers. They're slick and sticky, and you know for certain not all of it is because of you. "How long have you been at this?"

"Five, ten minutes. I don't know. I got impatient." He ghosts his lips over yours, tucking his hair over his ear before he cups your face. "Need you so bad. Need you right now."

"Fuck, seriously?" you huff, shifting slightly so you can rest back on an elbow. "Damn nymphomaniac..."

A body beside you rolls over. You freeze.

Shit. You'd forgotten he was here. Satoru had been insistent on taking the couch, but Suguru's large brown eyes and sweet words had worn him down. When you chimed in to express your agreement with your boyfriend, he'd broken fully, and accepted.

"I've already prepped myself," Suguru breathes, pressing his bare cock against the front of your boxers. He rolls his hips slowly, kissing you equally torturously. "Please, baby? Needa come so bad."

His words are slurring. Usually so put-together, Suguru grinds against your growing bulge with a soft whimper, eyes fluttering shut as his cockhead catches on the cloth.

He's going to be the death of you.

You place your hands on his waist, lifting him just enough to reach your waistband and free yourself from your boxers. Suguru sighs shakily and tucks the band below your balls, batting away your hand to be able to hold it himself. You roll your eyes at his attitude but allow him to admire your cock. He nibbles on his lower lip as he rakes its length with his heavy gaze.

"You're already hard," he teases under his breath, closing his fist around it and stroking it from tip to base and back again in one rough motion. You jump slightly, a hiss slipping out between your teeth. Suguru silences you with a hot kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he strokes you and swallows your sounds.

He shifts cautiously on his knees, mindful of Satoru's still body next to him, and opens his hand to slot his cock against yours. He purrs as he tugs them both, head falling against your shoulder as he rocks back and forth atop your lap.

"So good," he whispers into your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck. You can feel him tremble – with excitement, with exertion. His breaths are shaky as he quickens his fist, rutting against you.

He's dripping. Your shared arousal slicks up your cocks, and Suguru's wet palm squelches quietly with every stroke. He shudders out a soft moan, nails digging into the pillow beneath your head.

"Is this what you wanted?" you growl under your breath, hands pressing firmly against his waist and forcing him to grind harder into your cock. His hips stutter. "Fuckin' whore, doing this when your best friend's a foot away from you..."

He swallows a moan as you dig your thumb into his leaky slit. "Y-Yes – yes, I wanted this. 'M sorry for being such a slut," he whines softly, his thick thighs tensing atop yours. His cock jumps as Satoru shifts in his sleep. "Oh, fuuuck..."

You chuckle breathlessly as Suguru leans into you, his slick fist squelching louder as he grinds more desperately into you. You hold your hand in place, formed into a loose circle, and allow Suguru to fuck into it as his tip catches on the ridge of your glans with every thrust.

"G-Gonna come," he whispers against your jawline, free hand tangling in your hair. His little moans feel so much louder right by your ear, and your heart races whenever it pitches that much higher. "Ohh, god..."

"Yeah," you pant, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. You press your palm against his shoulder – his heart pounds through his back. "That's right, dollface. Don't hold back. I wanna see my pretty slut come for me, alright? Wanna have your come all over me."

His rushed, shallow little humps rock the mattress dangerously. You grip the shelf of his hips in warning, slowing him down. He whimpers like an injured animal, pleading.

Swallowing roughly, you wrap one hand around his cock and use the other to grip his plush ass beneath his oversized t-shirt, your fingers digging into the soft skin. He gasps softly and presses into your touch, humming gratefully as you jerk him off, your thumb swiping over his swollen tip.

With an arch of his spine, his arms tightening around you, he comes, his pants and sighs soft and breathy against your skin. He presses his hips against yours, coating your cock and stomach with spurts of hot come.

Your head falls back against the pillow, an exhale escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Suguru collapses on top of you, hips still jerking intermittently, and you can feel his sticky pleasure dripping down your sides in rivulets. Fuck.

Suguru tucks his head under your chin, dragging a thumb down your side and smearing his pearly release over your warm skin. Your stomach tenses under his touch and he smiles, tongue running over his piercings.

"I want yours inside me," he declares, leaving no room for argument. "Don't waste it."

"Waste it?" you breathe. "Waste it for what? You want kids or something?"

His lashes flutter as his gaze lifts to yours, dark and smoky. "Something like that."

He picks himself up and positions himself upright on your lap, shifting on his knees to better balance his weight. He glances at Satoru's curled body and mop of messy white hair, almost glowing in the darkness. Heat swirls in his stomach as he notices how tightly Satoru's gripping his pillow. A wicked grin tugs at his lips.

Suguru grinds his ass against your cock, one hand reaching back to rub the tip and press it against his fluttering hole. He lets the tip catch against his rim, throwing his head backwards and scattering long locks of hair in a cascade down his back. His hole clenches around nothing.

"Feels like you're about to burst," he teases softly, continuing to rub against the shaft. "Your balls are so heavy, too... Please let me have your come, daddy. I want it all inside me."

"Dirty little thing. If you can stay quiet, I'll let you have it," you mutter, bending one knee to give him some support. He grips it, lifting his hips, and slowly sinks down on your thick cock, hole clenching and fluttering around you at the stretch.

"I can, I promise." He exhales shakily, expression twisted with pleasure and pain. "Fuck."

"Take it easy," you murmur, eyes flashing with concern.

He chuckles, breathy. "What if I said I liked it?"

"I'd call you a whore."

"And I'll prove it." With a sharp inhale, his hole swallows the rest of your cock in a single gulp. His thighs quiver, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. His cock throbs, hot against his skin.

"Holy shit," you exhale, eyes wide as he trembles around your dick, his long hair flowing over his shoulders as he stares down at the join of your bodies, fascinated by his own capacity. You can feel every pulse of his heartbeat, every ripple of his silken insides. He's tight as a vice, gripping your cock, and he moans softly as a spurt of precome makes the fit a little easier.

He grins, eyes dazed but focussed solely on you. He moans when you wrap your fingers around his cock, wet and hot, and begins to rock his hips, fucking into your grasp.

"Hard already," you note in an almost condescending tone of voice, twisting your fist and making him suck in a sharp breath. "You're such a pervert, aren't you, Suguru? Touching your boyfriend when he's sleeping, riding him where your best friend could wake up and see how shameful you are... I bet you'd fuckin' come if he watched you like this."

A hand shoots up to muffle his cry. Your cock nudges his prostate and he presses into it, but you keep shifting your damn hips to avoid knocking into it directly.

He's helpless. Why did you know him so well? Why was he cursed to suffer at the hands of a sadist?

"Quiet," you whisper warningly, grip tightening on his hips and forcing him to keep moving. You experiment with a few upward thrusts, meeting his bounces halfway with meaty smacks that feel far too loud in the silence of the room.

"I can't keep quiet if you're fucking my brains out," he hisses, but his aggression melts away the moment you crush his prostate head-on. Briefly, his eyes roll back to show their whites, and he shudders out a broken, muffled moan.

You pat the side of his ass, making him flinch at the sound. "Relax," you huff offhandedly, "I'm not even doing all that much. You're just too much of a slut to notice the difference – a cock inside you, and all your thoughts fly right out the window. You're so pretty, doll. Stop thinking so hard."

"Asshole," he grunts, but doesn't stop bouncing. He throws his head back. "Ohh, fuck me, your cock is so damn good..."

"That's right, baby. Just like that," you groan, his tight slick hole dragging with every lift of his hips. His pace grows unsteady, messy, a creamy white ring forming around the base of your shaft. You quicken your strokes, matching Suguru's shallow bounces, and he gasps your name, cock spurting precome that you smear over his shaft to make the glide easier – filthier.

"Fuck me," he curses, his voice growing dangerously whiny. "Why are you holding back? Just come! Come inside, please, I-I'm so close, wanna come with you—"

You thrust into him roughly and squeeze his cock. He chokes out a sharp gasp, far too loud, as thick come paints his insides white. He spills into your hand, his creamy release running over your knuckles and down his swollen, pulsing shaft. He grips your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and his sides tighten as his movements slow, each bounce long and slow as he grinds down as deep as possible.

His muscles loosen as he pants, slumping down on top of you as he dips his tongue between your lips. You groan lazily as his piercing bumps your teeth and rolls against your tongue. You squeeze his hip, smoothing your palm over the generous curve of his ass. Your lips smack softly and he shivers, his cock giving one more valiant throb.

In the corner of his vision – the peripherals of his senses – Satoru twitches.

Suguru sits up immediately, to your confusion.

"Baby?"

He hushes you, not sparing you a glance. His gaze bores into his friend's back.

"Satoru?" he whispers.

Like clockwork, he stiffens.

A grin tugs at Suguru's lips. You stare up at him, propped up on an elbow. You don't have his sorcery-enhanced sensitivities – you don't notice that the white-haired figure next to you is breathing harder than usual, or that he's shifting far too much for sleep.

"Satoru," he hums, soft and coaxing. "I know you're awake."

Your heart drops like a stone. Suguru, however, smiles wider.

"Not moving won't do anything, you know."

Then—

Slowly, he sits up. His hair is more of a mess than it usually is. His oversized white shirt has risen slightly and shows off a sliver of pale skin.

Suguru is going to kill him. He's sure of it. His voice is soft and dangerous.

"How long were you awake?"

His head feels foggy, still reeling from shock. "Uh..."

Suguru lifts a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling with a little titter. He points down at Satoru. "Long enough, I'd wager."

He looks down. His face explodes with heat.

The hard-on strains at the front of his shorts. A dark spot mars the cloth where his tip would be.

Shit. Fuck. He'd borrowed your clothes – so had Suguru – and here he was, soiling them with his envy and desperation. He was such a freak.

"I-I can explain," he stammers, and you can't help admiring the way he seems to swim in your clothes. The elastic in the shorts had to be pulled as tight as possible for it to stay up without help, and even then, they sat teasingly low, showing off his delicate hipbones whenever he stretched.

Smirking, Suguru gradually lifts his hips, eyes fluttering as he pulls off of your cock. Satoru's ocean eyes widen at the sight of it resting on your stomach.

"No need," he says evenly. Satoru doesn't need his Six Eyes to catch the drop of pearly liquid rolling down the inside of his thigh as he leans over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. It douses the room in a faint golden glow. He bites back a whine as Suguru continues, as if nothing's wrong. "Come here, Satoru."

When he extends his hand, it's like salvation. Satoru stares at his kind, open palm.

He takes it. Suguru's slender fingers wrap around his, tugging him closer. He coaxes him nearer, the way one would with a frightened animal.

You're looking at him. You're both looking at him. Something sick and twisted in him likes it.

"Do you want us?" Suguru says softly. "Or have I read you wrong?"

Satoru swallows around the dry lump in his throat. His lips part. "I... I thought you wouldn't like me that way."

"Oh, Satoru," Suguru croons, lifting a hand to brush his white bangs out of his eyes. "Always so perceptive about everything but yourself."

Satoru's eyes dart away and amongst his jittering nerves, he latches onto the steadiness of your gaze, trained on him. He flushes when you smirk, your bare upper body displayed like a piece of art beneath his stare.

"Who do you want first?" you ask, and Suguru presses himself into your side. You level your gazes at him, and he stutters out some nonsense before falling quiet, pinned beneath your attention. "Suguru's already prepped, if you swing that way."

Suguru rolls his eyes at your choice of words, though he smiles fondly. "Surely he wants you, rockerboy. You're new – a novelty."

"And you're something familiar in an unfamiliar situation. Why wouldn't he choose you?"

"Can't I have both?" Satoru says quietly, though he blanches when your shared attention turns to him. "U-Uh, I mean—"

Suguru turns to you thoughtfully. "Hm?"

Your eyes glitter. "Hm."

—

"That's it, sugar," you chuckle, sliding a warm palm up Satoru's side to wrap around his throat. He gasps as you grip his jaw, forcing his lips to part, and maybe you're stronger than he'd like to admit – one hand on his shoulder, one around his throat, and that's all you need to lift him plain off the bed. His fingers scrabble at the sheets, barely brushing, and in his desperation, he grips your waist. The position only has him arching even further, your cock slamming into his bruised and sensitive prostate.

"Ah, ah, ah," he moans, eyes fluttering and silvery hair sticking to his damp temples. "Ah – Suguru, d-don't watch...!"

You wrench his head up, forcing a cry from his throat. You click your tongue, shaking your head. "Tsk tsk tsk. Look at him. Look, Satoru."

He mewls and obeys despite the hot shame and arousal crawling around his guts. The way you say his name makes him dizzy – not soft and purring like Suguru, not reverential or tense like other sorcerers. To you, he's just a brat, and you're firm with him in a way that nobody else has ever been. Not cruel – just firm.

When Satoru lifts his watery gaze to Suguru, he finds him staring down at the length swinging between his legs. His hole clenches as his thighs attempt to close – to hide himself away. You hiss in pleasure, knocking his knees apart with your own.

"Fuck," you rasp, stroking his lean hip and admiring the way bruises bloom red on his pale skin. "Look him in the eye, Satoru. You wanna make him come, right? We're doing this for Suguru. Don't be so selfish that you forget who you're serving."

"S-Sorry," he hiccups, shakily arching his back and exposing his bare, leaking cock, deep red with want. His gasps and moans are loud, echoing off the walls, almost drowning out the sound of your thighs smacking his ass. "Ah—! S-Slow down, I – nngh!"

Satoru's cock throbs painfully. The cockring you'd placed on him strangles his base, and his heartbeat pulses in his dick. He wants to come really bad.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Suguru's foot nudges his pulsating cock, pressing roughly against it. A teasing smile plays at his lips and he hums as Satoru chases the friction with a miserable, choked noise, whimpering when you drag him back towards you.

"I-I – it feels—" He can't think straight, head spinning like he's been slammed against concrete one too many times. His breath snags on the thick air as your fingers dig into his jaw. Your dick punches the breath from his lungs, dragging the painful pleasure up from deep in his belly. He sniffles softly, hazy eyes welling with crystal tears. "Ahn – Suguru," he sobs, so weak and pathetic even to his own ears that it makes his cock swell within its cage, its tip drooling incessantly.

How cute – begging his best friend for help. As if he'd listen.

"Don't slow down," whispers Suguru, voice like silk. "He can take it. He's the strongest."

That means nothing to you, but Satoru's gut clenches violently. Humiliation curls around his thoughts, burning the fringes of his mind with an electrifying shame.

Suguru slinks forward, sliding his thigh between yours in the mess of legs. His touch flutters over Satoru's warm cheeks and he presses close. You slow your pace to a snail's crawl, dragging against and kissing Satoru's swollen gummy prostate.

"I can't," Satoru whimpers, weak in your hold. He leans into Suguru's gentler touch. "I can't do it. I can't. It's too much."

"No, it's not. Don't be silly," Suguru hums, taking his cock in his hand and making Satoru sob and jerk. He aligns it with his, rutting against it lazily. God, he's got another fucking piercing right beneath the glans of his dick – it catches, smooth and hard, on the ridge of Satoru's tip. His bright eyes lose their focus and his hips twitch. "I'm not letting you go until I think you're done. Just try not to pass out, okay?"

"He won't. He's a good bitch – barely needs any training. He takes me like a fuckin' champ." Your cock punches into his guts and he squeals, his cries high and melodic even as he falls limp in your hands, his fingers scrabbling at your hips and thighs. Suguru moans at the contact, his fist wrapped around both his and Satoru's lengths. "F-Fuck – you're both so damn pretty like this."

Satoru gasps as Suguru smiles and leans over his shoulder to kiss you. Pressed between your bodies, Satoru can hear every wet smack and soft moan of your kisses right in his ear. His cock throbs violently, leaking a constant stream of pre.

Suguru's hands rest on his hips, gently guiding him back and forth between your cock and his. His cock is warm and velvety, and Satoru whimpers as Suguru presses further into him to kiss you deeper with a pleased sigh. Your grip tightens on Satoru's jaw, pulling him into your chest, and he mewls, squeaky little moans falling from his lips as your cock fills him up over and over again, fucking him like he made you angry.

"S-Suguru—!" He can't get the rest of his sentence out before two thick fingers shove into his mouth. His yelp melts into a moan as they press down on his tongue, silencing him.

"Hot," Suguru observes, parting from you to catch his breath and watch the way his friend sucks and drools on your fingers, his cerulean eyes dazed and glossy. "Kiss me again."

You oblige, twisting your hand in his long, loose hair and pulling him towards you. His lips are warm and plush, and his breath hitches as your tongue rolls across his, flicking the silver piercing there. You pull back for air but he doesn't let you, yanking you back in and tracing the length of your tongue with a debauched moan.

Satoru can hear it all. He can't watch – no, not with your firm grip on his jaw – but not being able to see makes everything ten times worse. He feels like a toy, his high withheld and his sight limited. For all his gifts, he still has to fucking turn to see things, and he wishes really, really badly that he knew what it looks like.

He can imagine it clearly. Your faces flushed, your hair mussed. Suguru's delicate features relaxed into a wanton expression, his piercings glinting in the low light as his tongue twists with yours. Your brow furrowed, your lips swollen, as you suck on his tongue.

Desperately, with tears in his eyes, he slobbers around your fingers, gripping your wrist in both hands. Saliva runs down your knuckles and Satoru chokes as you push your fingers deeper, sliding over his tongue possessively. He adapts quickly, muffled moans high and needy as your cock slams into his guts.

He swears you can't be a non-sorcerer. How else could you ruin him so easily? How else are you tracking every little twitch that gives away his most sensitive places? How else are you still going?

You've backed off now, instead staring at Satoru and the way his lips close around your fingers like they're a cock. Suguru, equally mesmerised, licks his lips.

As if you're one being, you remove your fingers from Satoru's slick mouth, and Suguru cups his face and kisses him.

Kisses him.

He can't think. His body moves on instinct, his teeth clashing with Suguru's in a messy and uncoordinated manner, but he is kind, and he coaxes control from him to teach him how to kiss. Blue eyes made even bluer with the red ringing his lashline, Satoru moans and scratches at Suguru's shoulders, cock throbbing as the ring bites into his raw shaft. Suguru's fingers brush against his tight, aching balls and he blubbers like he's going to die.

"Please," he manages to choke out, gasping and jerking as Suguru scrapes his nails down his dark red length. "P-Please..."

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. More? Less? For Suguru to stop looking at him as if he'd hung the stars? He's a sinful, degenerate mess, he knows it – far from the perfect and powerful sorcerer the world expects. The Gojo clan heir, ruined on something so obscene and mortal as a big, thick cock.

You turn his face towards you, watching the tears fall over the flushed apples of his cheeks. He's so pale that every little touch burns him with lust, and his embarrassment spreads from his cheeks to his chest and down his shoulder blades.

You press your lips against his and he whimpers, a hand shooting up to grip your hair. He kisses back, moaning as you swipe your tongue over his lower lip, and the slick sounds of your lips smacking makes his walls flutter and clench around you.

He's clumsy, but eager. He whines like a puppy, bouncing on your cock, and leans into your touch when your hand smooths over his stomach, shiny and slick with his pre. He pants into your mouth. You swallow his moans.

Firm and swift, Suguru snatches Satoru's chin and pulls his face towards his. He makes an ugly sound as Suguru wraps his hand back around their cocks, forming a loose hole for them to fuck into – Suguru's release is thick and creamy, and it feels filthy when he smears it over both their cocks.

He came! He came, he realises joyfully, relief and arousal flooding his veins in equal parts – he came because of him! Satoru melts into the kiss, lips slick and parted as they pant and moan, sharing hot breaths between them. The air is muggy. Suguru licks into his mouth, hardly human, and tears stream down Satoru's cheeks, his brain so mushy he can't tell your limbs from Suguru's, or his own from the bedsheets.

Barely letting him breathe, you grab Satoru's face and stick your tongue down his throat. He hiccups, eyes rolling back as you grind into his ass and come with a grunt in hot, thick spurts. His toes curl and his lips pout pathetically, chasing yours when you pull back to check on Suguru. He whines and tugs your hair to make you turn those pretty eyes back to him again, your warmth spilling into him and making him yours. You allow it, your tongue running over the slick nubs of his teeth.

Suguru scrapes his canines over Satoru's pale throat, only marred by his blush. That won't do. He drags his pierced tongue down his jugular and across his Adam's apple, made more pronounced by the angle of his neck – Satoru sobs into your mouth, chest heaving as he grips Suguru's hair and feels the sting of hickeys bitten into his fair skin.

Through his tears and dizzy pleasure, he's given back to Suguru, who coos at him and kisses him sweetly – no tongue this time, just their swollen lips moulded together as if they belong right there and nowhere else. He twitches as your teeth sink into his shoulder, decorating his other side with love bites. He's never gonna be able to hide them all.

Passed around like a cigarette, like a whore, Satoru barely realises it when Suguru slips off the cockring – with some difficulty, as his cock, stomach, and thighs are so wet with pre that it makes everything feel like a damn waterslide. The moment it scrapes over his swollen tip, he's crying out and tensing, sobbing as heavy spurts of sticky come spray Suguru's stomach and thighs.

He tries to say their names – because they're so kind, so good to him, he has to say thank you and be grateful because they could've left him there all by himself – but the first syllables of their names devolve into relieved, babbling moans. Suguru strokes his hair, holding him close, as you help him ride out his bliss, your pace gradually slowing as he twitches and jolts in your hands.

As his high peters out, he slumps into Suguru's arms, whining shakily as you pull out with a slick pop. He clenches around nothing, his hole gaping and abused, and clutches Suguru like a lifeline.

You hum, pressing a thumb against Satoru's dark puffy hole and pulling gently. Feebly, it clamps around nothing, and a dribble of thick white come leaks out, joining the mess between his legs.

Man, those legs. He could be a model with a body like that. Despite being taller, Satoru's slimmer than Suguru, and he feels tiny and fragile in your palms, shuddering and trembling. You squeeze his slim thighs, watching his fair skin dimple under your touch like marble, and his muscles twitch, unsure whether to pull away or press into you. He decides on the latter, moaning softly when you grab his ass appreciatively.

"Such a darling," Suguru hums, voice light and adoring as he brushes the tears from Satoru's warm red cheeks with his thumb. "You did well, Satoru."

Giggling dreamily, he nibbles on his lower lip, pushing his cheek against Suguru's shoulder. He reaches blindly behind him, and when he finds your hand, he pulls you in behind him, forcing your arm to wrap around his little waist. He purrs, perfectly pleased now that he's squished between two big, warm bodies. "Yeah...?"

Suguru nods, his long hair falling over Satoru's shoulder too. "Yeah."

Eyelids half-closed and nose buried in Suguru's neck, Satoru follows easily as you lead them to lay down on the bed. When your arm loosens around his waist, however, his hand shoots out with startling speed and accuracy.

"W-Where are you going?"

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounded afraid.

"Bathroom. Gotta get you two cleaned up before it gets gross," you reply gently. He has Suguru to ground him. That doesn't seem like enough, though, because his large blue eyes well up again and his lower lip trembles. His grip tightens around your wrist and you're surprised when it almost begins to hurt.

"Stay," he whispers, slender pale neck craned to look you in the eye. It's covered in bruises and bite marks.

"I'm not leaving," you chuckle, stroking his inner wrist with your thumb. "You're in my bedroom. Nowhere else for me to go."

He shakes his head, stubborn – they're both like that. "Don't care," he whimpers, tugging insistently. "Come back. Clean later."

"But you're the messiest one here, Satoru," you point out, amused, and you don't miss the way he shivers when you say his name. "Surely you don't want to stay that way?"

"Don't care," he repeats in a mumble. He hums as you obey his iron grip and return to the bed, lying down in front of him. He snuggles into your chest, sighing soft and content as Suguru shuffles closer behind him. He feels your arm join Suguru's, resting over his waist. The heavy weight of them combined and the radiating warmth from your chests fade his thoughts into pleasant nothingness.

"Suguru?" you murmur.

"Hm?" His chest rumbles delightfully against Satoru's back.

"I've got him. You can get washed up if you like."

"It's alright. He'll pull me back down, just like you. It doesn't feel bad – I sorta like it. I've been covered in worse, anyway."

You curse under your breath, arm shifting around Satoru. "Do I wanna know?"

"No."

You chuckle lightly, and your next words are soft and teasing. Suguru responds in kind. Satoru's eyes flutter closed, the rest of your quiet conversation becoming hazy background noise as it lulls him to sleep.

Surrounded by warmth – a very human warmth that Satoru's been chasing for years – he can't help curling up like a cat, breathing soft and even as your rumbling voices pass over his head. Yours is deeper than Suguru's smooth, easy cadence, something of your musical talents emerging in the depths of your voice. It makes it easy for his subconscious to follow – at least for a while, before they blend into one lilting track.

Dreams come easy to him. How could they not when this pretty fantasy of his has just come true, tucked in the arms of Suguru and his dreamboat of a boyfriend?

Well, it's like Suguru said: can't get rid of him. He's yours, now – no takesies backsies.

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