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zetsubo-billy · 22 days ago

Text

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴

genre(s): ¿comedy?, nsfw but no smut, college!AU — all characters are 20-ish y/o

pairing(s): eventual hanamaki takahiro x reader, eventual matsukawa issei x reader, eventual hanamaki takahiro x matsukawa issei

summary: frustrated after an argument with your now-ex-fuck buddy, you find yourself asking your two best guy friends the forbidden question

content warnings: sex talk, that’s literally it, that’s the fic, reader has a few stray horny thoughts, one (1) joke about feminism, sexual tension, a lot of mentions of oral sex

word count: 2.2k

MINORS AND AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! DO! NOT! INTERACT!

“Okay, but, do you guys think girls taste weird?”

You have no idea why you say it. Usually, you let Mattsun and Makki have their lively discussions of recent sexcapades while you listen passively. Maybe you’ll laugh at them here and poke fun at them for something silly there, or just nod along. You never pipe up and tell them about your own experiences, no matter how many times they grill you about the guys they’ve seen you with, but the past week has made you reach your breaking point. You couldn’t stop yourself.

“What?”, Makki asks as his and Mattsun’s conversation reaches a sudden halt, tilting his head at you from where he sits on the other end of the creaky old sofa in their shared apartment. “Like, your pussies?”

Heat flashes up your neck and you quickly look away from him, busying yourself with fingering at the hem of the woolen blanket you bought him and his housemate as a housewarming gift. Your pussies. He means girls’ pussies in general, you’re sure. It’s not like you have several vaginas. But it still felt oddly targeted. Then again, you’re the only one in the apartment with that anatomy, so of course it’s a little bit targeted. He sure wasn’t talking to Mattsun, at least.

Makki and Mattsun’s intense eyes seem to burn holes into your being as they both stare at you. Makki, expectantly, and Mattsun, curiously. Your mind spins as you try to focus on how to answer. “Well… yeah”, you mumble, embarrassed. You shift in your seat, pulling your knees closer to yourself.

Absolute silence fills the boys’ living room for a few seconds. You’re just about to wave your question away and say that you were just kidding, it doesn’t matter what they think and wow that was a stupid question, when Mattsun speaks up.

“Not really”, he says in his deep voice. He sits in between you and Makki, the (sometimes) calm between two storms, in the middle of the couch. One of his arms is stretched out along the back of the sofa, behind you, while he scratches lightly at the back of his neck with his other hand as if in thought. “I mean, there’s not really another taste like it. But it’s not weird, no.”

“Yeah, no other taste like it”, Makki agrees, leaning over the armrest on his end of the sofa. “I love it. It’s not weird, it’s just… purely her. I think it’s hot as fuck that everyone tastes different.”

A heat starts to boil deep in your gut at the same time as it blossoms in your cheeks. You hope they don’t notice. “R-really?”, you ask, and you internally curse yourself for stuttering.

“Yeah, really”, the strawberry blonde continues. If you look at him, you know he’ll be grinning teasingly. “Why’re you asking?”

Dread starts to mix in with the warmth in your stomach, and you shift again as you pull the blanket closer to yourself. It’s not at all cold in their apartment anymore, though. Now you only have the blanket for comfort, like a toddler who’s grown too old to have a pacifier but doesn’t want to throw it away.

“Oh, uh, no reason”, you mumble, hoping they’ll let it go.

“Really?”, Mattsun pipes up, and you can hear the smirk that’s plastered across his stupidly handsome face as he speaks. “No reason at all that you suddenly decided to talk to us about sex after we’ve been trying to get you to open up since high school?”

Curse him and his attentiveness.

“Mhm”, you force yourself to answer. The blanket isn’t comforting anymore but suffocating, the warmth of the wool combined with your flushed embarrassment — and let’s be honest, a little bit of arousal — and the way Mattsun and Makki are looking at you makes it too hot in the living room. You tug the blanket off, throwing it at Makki. “No reason, let’s forget about it.”

Makki’s volleyball reflexes allow him to easily catch the blanket in his hands. He balls it up and shoves it in between the sofa cushions. “No reason, huh? You sure about that?”, he asks, and this time you do look at him. And, what do you know, he is grinning just as stupidly just as you thought. “Not even a little bit of a reason?”

You shift in your seat, looking away from him again, but you don’t answer.

Cold, long fingers brush against the hot back of your burning neck and you shiver almost violently in your seat as you snap your head around to look at Mattsun. He’s looking at you with his deep brown eyes, and just the way he looks at you makes you shiver again. He wets his lips with his tongue before speaking up, still gently caressing the back of your neck with his fingers. “Don’t tell me that guy you go out with tells you he won’t eat your pussy ‘cause he doesn’t like the taste.”

You swallow thickly and avoid his gaze, shaking your head. “No reason, is what I said. Let’s just forget about this whole—”

“Uuuugh, god!”, Makki cuts you off exasperatedly, making you jump slightly in your seat. “I fucking hate guys like that! They act like they’re saints for fingering their girlfriends, like, a third of the times before they fuck, but then they still expect to get sucked off every night!”, he continues, letting his head fall back against the sofa. “Fucking assholes. They’re the reason we still need feminism.”

Despite yourself, and despite the odd conversation, you can’t help but giggle at his last sentence. He’s… not exactly wrong. “I’d argue the reason we still need feminism is because of the patriarchy”, you tease, and watch as color drains from his face. “But I guess you’re right, too”, you finish as Mattsun’s gentle touch at the back of your neck moves to your hair, playing with a few loose strands. “And there are so many guys like that. Hell, I’ve never been with a guy who wasn’t like that.”

And then you remember that they’re not your girlfriends ranting about sleazy men but your childhood guy friends.

This is the first time in a long time that the three of you have managed to fit all of your schedules together since you started at different universities, different majors, different after class activities and different weekend jobs to pay the rent. They still live together, and presumably see each other every day, while you live with two girls you met in your first year in college. You swallow thickly, embarrassment eating away at you again as you, once again, pull your knees closer to yourself and shrink away from Mattsun’s hand in your corner of the sofa. “Umm, forget I said that.”

“No way I can forget that”, Makki quickly answers, and there’s a tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

Before you really know what’s happening, he’s flying up from his seat and kneeling on the floor in front of you while Mattsun follows you into the corner of the sofa to be able to start tracing shapes over the back of your neck again. Makki’s hands are gentle and warm as they land on the tops of your bare knees, resting there. “You’re telling me, the god of pussy-eating—”, Mattsun snorts at that and the strawberry blonde sends him a glare, “— that you’ve never been eaten out?”

You feel suddenly cornered, as if they caught you doing something bad, as if they’re about to scold you. “Uh… well… not exactly…”, you mumble, eyes flitting between Makki and Mattsun before settling on your own nails as you start to slightly pick at your cuticles, nervous. “No, I have, I just… never came from it. Max says I take too long and… that he doesn’t… like how my, uh… how I taste.”

When you look up again, Makki looks just about ready to murder your now-ex fling, and you feel the way Mattsun tenses up beside you as he momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“Tell me, how much do I need to pay you to let me kick his ass?”, Makki grumbles, hands balling into fists where they still rest on your knees.

You smile sheepishly. “Well, um, nothing. I broke it off with him this morning after we got into a really bad argument. It started out about oral, actually, but then it just sort of… spiraled… and then I told him to fuck off.”

Makki’s jaw drops while Mattsun heaves a humored sigh. “So that’s why you got into this conversation from the start”, the taller one states, his fingers tickling you behind the ear. You shiver and try to shy away from his touch, but he doesn’t let you.

Again, you’re reminded of the heat in their apartment. You’re only wearing a pair of sweatshorts, old and ratty and something you wouldn’t be caught dead in around any other creature of the male species but Makki and Mattsun, and one of their soft t-shirts with a worn print that you stole several years ago — none of you remember which one of them it originally belonged to since they usually swap t-shirts back and forth, and they stopped pestering you about giving it back a long time ago.

“Well… yes?”, you find yourself saying.

Makki’s hands unclench and grip your bare knees gently, drawing your attention back to him from Mattsun. He’s grinning up at you, and there’s a darkness in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. “So… you want us to give you an oral orgasm?”

Your jaw drops as you stare at him, wide-eyed. Admittedly, you had considered the both of them in that light, several times, over the years. I mean, look at them. Over six feet tall the both of them, athletic, fast and with nice features. It should be illegal to be so physically gifted. Horny teenage curiosity and more recent dry spells had led you to long nights with your hand between your thighs, imagining how one of their hands would feel in its place; or better yet both of their hands.

Their fingers are thicker, longer, than yours, so they would undoubtedly reach deeper. Stretch you wider. But how would they go about it? Would they be soft and careful? Hard and rough? Would they be different from each other?

Of course the two would be different. But how different? Would one of them be fast, the other slow? Or would it be the softness-contra-roughness that differs, rather than the pace? And let’s not get started on the question of their size. You’ve seen them lounge about in sweatpants sometimes, it doesn’t happen often, and every time you have to force your eyes up to their faces. You know it’s a stupid assumption, but they have big hands. And large shoe sizes. It’s only fair to assume that—

Mattsun’s large hand lands across the back of your neck, squeezing lightly to get your attention. It’s such a simple gesture, yet you feel like you melt into the palm of his hand. “Hiro asked you a question, sweetheart”, he mumbles right into your ear. He’s so close you can feel his breath against the side of your face. “I think he’d like an answer.”

Only then do you realize that you got lost in your own thoughts for several moments. How long? You don’t know, but you don’t dare to dwell on it. You swallow thickly, raising your gaze from where you’d zoned out while looking at Makki’s hands on your knees until you meet his eyes. He’s smirking that usual cocky smirk of his, but his eyes are swimming with something you’ve never seen in him before. His hands are warm on your knees, and you shiver in your seat as Mattsun squeezes gently at the back of your neck. They’ve literally got you cornered on their shitty old couch.

“U-um, could you repeat the question?”, you stutter out, hating the way your voice wavers and sounds so airy.

But Makki grins, squeezing your knees in his hands. “Sure thing, babe”, he says teasingly. “I asked if you wanted me and Issei to eat your pussy until you cum.”

Oh. Right. That.

Your jaw drops again and this time around, they both laugh. Not meanly, not at your expense. They just laugh lowly, and you feel like the sound makes your entire being vibrate.

“I— umm, I mean, I, hah…”, you stammer, trying to get out a complete sentence.

“Only if you want to. And it doesn’t have to be both of us, you can take your pick. Promise we won’t be mad”, Makki continues, squeezing your knees gently. “Right, Issei?”

Mattsun huffs in agreement, his palm still heavy and warm and comforting against the back of your neck. “Right”, he echoes his friend’s statement. “If you're not comfortable, neither of us want it. Don’t pressure yourself.”

Makki nods along, and starts talking about something that you only half-hear because your mind is reeling. They don’t want to pressure you. They’re waiting for your word. But the way they pose it, it’s like they expect you to say no. It’s like they’ve already given up, even though you haven’t even answered yet. Or, well, technically you have, but that embarrassing stutter of a reply you gave just a moment ago doesn’t count. Not really.

Just as Makki leans back slightly, about to get up from the floor as his hands lift from your knees, your hands dart out to grab his wrists. His eyebrows shoot up as you firmly place his hands high up on your thighs, but he still grins.

“Well, self-proclaimed god of pussy-eating”, you start off teasingly, and he rolls his eyes at you as Mattsun chuckles beside you. Makki’s eye roll is cut short as you suggestively spread your legs slightly, his gaze zeroing in on where your pussy hides beneath your bottoms. “Do your worst.”

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