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The first time Gojo walked in on them was when he’d come back from a mission. He’d been gone for three weeks, much longer than he’d intended. In his hands were two full bags of souvenirs, little trinkets from the sights he’d seen and treat boxes from the local, delicious delicacies he wanted to share with the Fushiguro’s. The small apartment was quiet, which wasn’t unusual. Gojo would be more surprised if he heard a ruckus taking place. Tsumiki and Megumi were quiet children, always had been from the moment he’d met them, and more often than not Gojo was the one to fill the air with noise.
Nothing strange crossed his mind as he kicked his shoes off, closed the door behind him, and ventured forth, humming some old song he’d heard on the radio the other day. It took his six eyes a fraction of a second to realise that both children were holed up in Tsumiki's room. Again, it wasn’t out of the norm. Gojo didn’t want to think about how long they’d spent with just each other for company before he’d come along all those years ago. But it did mean that they were close, only growing closer over the years, even under Gojo’s watchful gaze. When they were all home, or whenever Gojo treated them to a day out, Tsumiki and Megumi were never too far away from each other.
It was just… them .
The closer he got to Tsumiki’s room, the more he quieted his humming and listened. Sometimes, Gojo enjoyed surprising them. He liked to throw the door open and make them jump. Listen to Megumi curse up a storm at him whilst Tsumiki promised to wring his neck if she ever broke something because of him, again . Gojo had replaced that plate but she never forgave him for it.
Soft, quiet, little pants met Gojo’s ears and he slowed his steps with a small frown. That was a new noise. The door to Tsumiki’s room was open and when Gojo peered around the corner of it he stopped, frozen in place by the sight that greeted him. Tsumiki’s bed sat on the opposite side of her room to the door, pressed up against the wall beneath the window. The breeze against the back of her neck helped her to sleep at night and she enjoyed the comfort of pressing her back against something solid.
Tsumiki herself was perched on the edge of the bed, one arm thrown back onto the sheets, and her chin tipped up, mouth falling slack. She was naked, breasts rising and falling in time to the heavy breaths she sucked down, and her legs were thrown over the shoulders of Megumi. He was crouched between her legs, arms wrapped firmly around her thighs, fingers digging into soft muscles. His shirt was gone and his pants were unbuckled, hanging loosely around his hips, ready to fall in an instant. Buried in Megumi’s hair was Tsumiki’s other hand, fingers wound tightly around dark locks as she held him there whilst her throat bubbled with quiet moans.
He should’ve said something.
They were siblings, or step-siblings, but siblings nonetheless.
But he couldn’t move. His arms hung limply by his sides, souvenirs and snacks forgotten, and his eyes, hidden behind dark shades, focused on taking in every vivid detail in front of him. The way the muscles of Megumi’s shoulders rolled with each bob of his head, hips rocking forward, rutting against nothing but open air, fingers digging gentle bruises into Tsumiki’s thighs, punctuating each movement with a quiet groan.
When his gaze finally wondered back up fear shot through him. Brown eyes met him, narrowed and dangerous, almost daring him to say something, anything . There were words on the tip of his tongue, battling against the dryness of his throat and the heavy weight that sunk into his stomach. But anything he had to say was chased away by the way Tsumiki’s lips curled up and her eyes twinkled with something dark. She tightened her legs around Megumi’s head and rolled her hips up, grinding against his face in the same motion she pushed him further down.
And she opened her mouth. “Right there, Megumi. Please, please, brother , please.”
Megumi grunted, his own noises of enjoyment mixing with her loud, wanton groans that only Gojo knew were exaggerated for his benefit.
He swallowed, fingers tightening around the handles of the bags, his breath catching in his throat.
Tsumiki arched against Megumi’s mouth, cocked her chin up, and canted her head back until Gojo could just about make out her eyes thrown his way. “Megumi, Megumi, Megumi.”
Heat swirled within Gojo’s stomach at her cries and his attention snapped to Megumi as he hunched further over his sister, growing more eager with each new desperate bob of his head. The sounds of him lapping at Tsumiki grew louder, slicker, wetter. Gojo swallowed another lump, a flush creeping up his skin. He should tell them to stop, that they shouldn’t be doing this.
And most certainly his cock shouldn’t twitch in his pants.
He spared Tsumiki one last look, her eyes sly and full of knowing, before he took a step backwards. Another, and another. Until he was back by the front door, until he was staring at his shoes he’d left in a neat pile earlier, just past the tent in his pants. Even all the way down here he could hear Tsumiki’s pleas, her whimpers and whines. All his mind could do was put that picture crystal clear back into his mind and stir that heat further in his stomach.
Tsumiki, bare and naked, breasts so beautifully perky, her supple frame wrapped around Megumi’s lithe figure, lean muscles moving to his actions.
He pressed his thighs together, willing the ache between his legs to go away, but Tsumiki’s moans only grew an octave. She sounded more worn, more pleased, her voice higher and gaspier, and it twisted want within Gojo’s entire being. “Fuck,” he whispered, dropping the bags to the floor. Gingerly, he worked one hand to the front of his pants and dug the heel against his growing bulge. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Gojo screwed his eyes shut and dragged that same image to the front of his mind, using Tsumiki’s voice as fuel for the fire that burnt within him.
“Megumi,” Tsumiki moaned, almost as clear as it was a few moments ago, “fuck me. Please, I want you inside of me.”
Gojo’s cock twitched, more blood rushing to fill it, and he propped one hand against the wall, leaning his entire weight onto it as everything grew too hot. He couldn’t just stand here and listen to this. Listen to the wet sounds of Megumi pulling away, to the shuffle of fabric and audible tearing of a plastic wrapped.
“Are you sure?” Megumi whispered, his voice hoarse, and Gojo could only imagine how shiny Megumi’s chin was. The slick that glistened across his lips, and along his jaw, giving his cheeks a glistening glow. Hell, maybe there were a few drops on his nose from where he’d been nuzzling Tsumiki’s clit, the scent of her sex filling him up on each inhale.
Gojo popped the button on his pants and slid his hand beneath his boxers. The head of his cock was wet and he brushed a shaking thumb over the tip.
“Yes,” Tsumiki said. “I’m sure. Come here.”
Turning on the balls of his feet, Gojo slammed himself back against the wall, head thunking against the cracked plaster. How could two of the quietest people he’d ever met be so loud with just their kissing? He could hear every wet kiss, every slip of tongue into waiting mouths. At that moment, his mouth falling slack with a quiet, barely there gasp, Gojo wasn’t sure if he was thankful for his six eyes technique. With it, everything was emphasised, made to be crystal clear to his senses. Without it, he’d miss out on the free food Tsumiki seemed more than happy to give to him.
The slick noises of their lips sliding against one another melted into the noise of Megumi rolling into her wet cunt, and it stirred every horrifically perverted nerve within Gojo’s body. He couldn’t help it. His cock couldn’t help it. He shoved the front of his pants down far enough that he could free his cock and he jerked himself in tandem with the new noises of skin slapping against skin. The shuddering gasps Tsumiki made, coupled with the grunts Megumi let out. Gojo fucked himself to their noises, joining them in their increasing ecstasy, faster and faster, his toes curling in his shoes.
“Me- Megumi-” Tsumiki panted.
Gojo nodded, recognising the noise of somebody about to hit their limit, of somebody about to come.
“Same,” Megumi mumbled, “I’m-”
“Please,” Tsumiki pleaded and Gojo almost pleaded with her, his lips forming their own silent plea.
Gojo gasped louder, rolled his hips into hand, that heat building low in his gut, his own edge approaching. Any sense of decency or morality was clouded with that heavy need. Control went out of the window, desperation making him chase that high that was just… out… of… reach…
There was enough sense rattling around his brain to tell Gojo to clamp his lips shut, stifling the shuddering moan that rocked through him. He curled his hand around the head of his cock, trying to contain most of the mess as he slumped against the wall. It was a useless attempt, plenty of drops dripping past his fingers to splatter across the back of his hand and the front of his hips. A frown twisted his features up at the disgusting mess he’d made, but once a flicker of clarity finally came back to him, that orgasmic induced fog slowly fading, shame washed over him.
Faintly, Tsumiki breathed raggedly, Megumi’s own breaths just as exhausted. Whispered promises and praises filled the air and Gojo stared down at his soiled hand. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He shook his jacket off and used that to wipe his hand and front down as much as possible. Later he’d regret it. Just as he regretted enjoying the noises the two Fushiguro’s made, regretted the way his brain painted them in his brain, bodies shining with a thin sheen of sweat, muscles working beautiful as they rolled against one another, he’d regret coming to that image, to the sounds of them, with them.
Fuck he already regretted it so badly, and yet, he’d never felt better.
He tucked his soiled jacket under one arm, tucked himself away, grabbed the bags, and reached for the front door. He slammed it shut and decided to announce his presence, “I’m home!” The scurrying of feet was almost comical, and Gojo wondered how many times those same scampers of feet was them trying to hide the evidence of their crimes.
The door to Tusmiki’s room crashed shut and it was her voice that shouted, “I’m getting changed! Don’t come in!”
“I won’t!”
Gojo wondered if she’d told Megumi, if she hinted at the fact that Gojo knew, he’d seen . As much as Gojo tried, his usual smile lacked its usual electricity. It was difficult to feel like his genuine self after that , but he tried as he made his way to the kitchen. He tossed his jacket straight into the washer and settled the bags on the dining table, already plucking various items from where they were hidden.
The first person to walk in was Megumi, and the teens face was nothing but his usual stare that bordered on a glare. His shirt was back on, his pants were buckled, and there wasn’t a crease out of place. His hair was only a fraction messier than usual, but it was noticeable unless somebody knew. “Megumin!”
“Gojo,” he grunted, and he walked past Gojo to grab a glass of water. “Thought you’d never come back.”
“Did somebody miss me?” He swallowed thickly, already knowing the answer.
Megumi snorted. “Nope.”
“Gojo!”
He swung his head around to Tsumiki who looked the picture of perfection. Not a hair out of place, nor did she look as if she’d gotten fucked by her brother just minutes ago. “Tsumiki.”
“We’re glad you’re back.”
Gojo tested the waters with his next question, wondering if Megumi would give away the secret Gojo had accidentally uncovered. “You two get up to anything whilst I was gone? Anything I should be worried about? Megumi?”
Megumi glared at him around his water and Tsumiki chuckled. It was her that offered an answer, “Megumi’s kept himself out of trouble for almost a month now. But no, it’s all just normal school stuff here. Nothing exciting.”
Gojo spared another glance at Megumi and either Megumi had an excellent poker face or he had no clue that Gojo knew. “Splendid,” Gojo said, the joyous tone not quite reaching his smile. He held the bags up and shook them gently, “I brought souvenirs.”
The second time Gojo walked in on them he’d been wary of open doors. There was a part of him that hoped after that first incident, they would at the very least learn to close the doors. He made a conscious effort to announce when he was on his way over in hopes that he wouldn’t have to witness anything again, that he wouldn’t have to have a conversation he wasn’t sure he was ready for. He still didn’t know what he would say, or what he could say.
Either he had bad luck or the Fushiguro’s didn’t care. Gojo’s six eyes told him they were in Megumi’s room this time, and Gojo prayed that Megumi had gotten into another fight, that Tsumiki was dabbing at bruised knuckles as she verbally berated his ass. The door was open and Gojo took that as a good sign, until he peered around the corner and stared at the new scene that filled his head.
Tsumiki was hidden beneath Megumi’s body, her legs wrapped tightly around Megumi’s waist and her fingers laced in dark hair. The one hand of Megumi’s that Gojo could see was holding onto the headboard, knuckles turning white, and his face buried in the crook of Tsumiki’s neck.
Neither of them had noticed him, and neither of them seemed to care with the way Megumi slammed into Tsumiki. The way her thighs tensed around him, the way she threw her head back and moaned viscerally, giving Megumi all of the room he needed to bite at her neck, lathering it in bites and kisses. There would be bruises there later and Gojo idly wondered how she was going to hide them.
“Megumi,” Tsumiki breathed. She gasped on a particularly harsh thrust that snapped her head to one side and cracked her eyes open. Gojo met burning brown. Tsumiki parted her lips, brow furrowing in the centre, and Megumi grunted as he fucked her without the realisation that they had an audience. “Me-Megumi,” she panted, fingers scrabbling across the planes of his shoulders.
He responded in kind with another snap of his hips, the noise echoing loudly, concealing the creaking of springs that matched their movements. “Tsumiki,” Megumi whispered, lips pressed firmly to her neck.
Tsumiki groaned, and she worked her hands up Megumi’s neck, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as Megumi continued his assault. She managed to grab his face between her hands, pulled him away, and forcibly turned his attention to the door, to Gojo.
Megumi froze, boiling pools of green fixed on Gojo with something akin to fury. It was a strange silence that followed next, something a little less than awkward, and Gojo wondered if now was the right time to open his mouth. The anger Megumi wore faltered a fraction as Tsumiki shuddered around him and a groan rippled from his throat. He turned back to Tsumiki and noisily claimed her mouth with his, a clash of tongue and lips meeting, giving Gojo another show he hadn’t been expecting.
The front of his pants tightened and Gojo pressed his lips into a firm line, unable to tear his gaze or his six eyes away. The two of them made out, hungry, wet, noisy, and sloppy, sinking newfound desperation into each new kiss. It hurt to watch how sloppy they were with their kisses, mouths missing each other more than they met, the shine of saliva decorating mouths, chins, and cheeks, but it was perfect. It made Gojo ache, made him want to pull their faces to his own and show them how it was done. He wanted to trace his tongue over their lips and watch them come undone from his touch.
But he wanted to watch them continue to explore, discover the sensitivities of each other's bodies, figure out what they did and didn’t like, what they enjoyed, what they wanted more of.
“Get out.”
Gojo blinked at the warning and he flicked his gaze from Tsumiki to Megumi.
It was Megumi who spoke again, eyes narrowed dangerously, his body pressed over Tsumiki, almost trying to hide her from Gojo’s view. “Get. Out.” Black shadows started to drip over the side of the bed and Gojo could recognise that technique anywhere, especially after having taught Megumi how to use it. A shaggy wolf’s head started to rise from the growing puddle and Gojo took his leave then, but not before he noticed the sly grin that cracked across Tsumiki’s face before she drew Megumi back down for another kiss.
Gojo started towards the front door, jumping when he heard the bedroom door slam behind him. He spared the wooden barrier one last look before he left, ignoring the swell of his cock in his pants and the way his mind was working in overdrive to commit that delightfully sinful image to memory.
The next time Gojo walked in on them he was taken by surprise. He’d almost forgotten about the previous instances. The memories still existed in vivid detail in his mind, and Gojo refused to admit to the number of times he’d jerked off to it. But at least it had been months since he’d last witnessed anything between the two teens under his care.
So it took him by surprise when Megumi asked him to come home early. He wanted to talk to him about something, and no amount of questions from Gojo had provided an answer to what that something was. Concern rolled through his mind as he marched into the Fushiguro household, Megumi never reached out to talk to him so there had to be something serious plaguing the teens mind. He stopped by Megumi’s room, his six eyes instinctively suppressed anytime he entered their home just in case he walked in on something else again, and he froze.
Megumi quickly found Gojo’s eyes, piercing green eyes fixed purposefully on Gojo’s face. In his lap was Tsumiki, her back pressed to Megumi’s chest, one arm thrown around the back of his neck, and her head was thrown back across Megumi’s shoulder. The pale skin of her neck looked enticing, her throat bobbing to every moan and gasp she made. Megumi cradled a breast with one hand, finger and thumb teasing one pebbled nipple, and his other hand was wrapped around her thigh, keeping her legs spread open to give Gojo the perfect view of Megumi spitting his sister open with his cock.
“She told me,” Megumi said with a level voice. Even as Tsumiki rolled her hips and visibly tensed around him, his voice was steady and unwavering. “We know you got off to it.”
“I-” Gojo started, and words escaped him. Megumi wasn’t wrong. He had gotten off to it. Several times in fact. There was no denying it and Tsumiki knew he’d seen things the first time.
Tsumiki slowly lifted her head up, tilting her chin to press her lips to Megumi’s temple. “You can watch this time,” she said, voice buttery smooth.
Megumi moved his hand further up Tsumiki’s thigh and Gojo followed the movement with his eyes. He watched those slender fingers slide over the crease of Tsumiki’s thigh, circle the hood of her clit, and press against the raised cluster of nerves. Slowly Megumi slid his fingers between her folds and spread them wide, giving Gojo a clearer view of where his cock entered his sister. “Tell her she’s pretty.”
“She’s beautiful,” Gojo whispered without hesitation. It wasn’t a lie. Tsumiki was beautiful. She had a natural beauty so few people her age did. There was no doubt in his mind that Tsumiki would become a heartbreaker when she was older. She could have anybody eating out of the palm of her hand and everybody would thank her for it.
Tsumiki moaned, the muscles of her thighs trembling, and enraptured Gojo with the way he watched her walls clench around Megumi’s cock, the way she leaked around him, clear, sticky juices that begged him to lick it up and clean her. She rolled her hips and Gojo parted his lips with a groan at the way Megumi’s cock disappeared inside of her.
“Sit down,” she breathed, and Gojo fell to his knees without argument. He settled his hand atop his thighs, gaze resolutely fixed on the siblings in front of him.
Megumi leered down at him from over Tsumiki’s shoulder and he tilted his head to bite at her neck, printing a fresh bruise into her skin. “You’re only allowed to watch,” he mumbled, eyes darkening and his fingers tightening their hold on Tsumiki. “You don’t get to touch her, and you certainly don’t get to touch yourself unless she tells you to.”
Gojo nodded. He was hooked on whatever drug they were and they both knew it. All three of them knew it. He screwed his fingers tightly into the fabric of his pants and watched reverently as Megumi kneaded one of Tsumiki’s breasts. As he kissed a line down her neck, across her shoulder, moved his other hand up between her legs to press a thumb to her clit. Tsumiki met Gojo with a similar, burning stare, and Gojo was hit with an electric bolt of excitement at having both of them staring down at him.
Then they moved. Tsumiki rocked her hips back and forth, grinding herself in Megumi’s lap. Megumi grabbed at her hips with both hands, gently bucking up into her the best he could from this position, and Gojo couldn’t look away.
“Tell me,” Tsumiki started, her voice sweet and trickling down Gojo’s spine like thick honey, luring him in and making his insides feel warm, “ Satoru .” He moaned at the way she curled his name across her tongue, the way she whispered it like a prayer, adoringly and full of praise. It should be illegal. “What’s going on inside that head of yours? What- Ah- Megumi!” What do you-” she gasped as Megumi bounced her in his lap and she arched beautifully out, breasts presented to him, perfectly round and supple. “What are you thinking? About us ?”
Wrapping his arms around Tsumiki’s wist, Megumi pulled her against his chest and rocked her gently in his lap, grinding into her with each roll, stuttering tiny, cute gasps from her throat. “She wants to hear everything,” he mumbled, gaze dark and territorial. It was almost daring Gojo to say the wrong thing.
“I-” Gojo blinked and he pressed his thighs together. Fuck. Where did he start? The thoughts hadn’t crossed his mind until he’d walked in on Megumi eating Tsumiki’s cunt. But ever since then- “I can’t decide if I want to watch you two some more or join in. I don’t know if I want to watch Megumi fuck Tsumiki until she’s crying, begging for him to stop because even when she cries she’s beautiful. Or if I want to have her wrapped around my own cock, crying my name whilst Megumi watches. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Megumi tightened his grip on Tsumiki and Gojo saw it then, the denial. Only Megumi was allowed to touch Tsumiki, hold her, fuck her, and Gojo couldn’t find an argument against it. She deserved the best and Megumi was a damned sight better person than Gojo could ever hope to be.
A light chuckle broke the tension and Tsumiki pulled his attention to her as she cupped her breasts and squeezed them with a soft sigh. “I think maybe next time we should treat him.”
Megumi narrowed his eyes. “To what?”
“A taste.”
“Megumi.”
“You’re mine.”
She hummed and put her hands on Megumi’s thighs. Gingerly she pushed herself to her feet, groaning as Megumi’s cock slipped free from her wet heat. She turned and slid herself back into Megumi’s lap, her back to Gojo, and wrapped her arms tightly around Megumi’s neck. On instinct he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back down onto his cock with a shared moan in the space between them. Even this view was just as enticing to Gojo, completely capturing his attention on the soft muscles of Tsumiki’s back as they rippled with each new bounce on Megumi’s cock. Soft red marks branded themselves across Tsumiki’s skin as Megumi clung a little too tightly to her.
“What if,” Tsumiki said, her voice a picture of innocence, “we let him have just one taste.”
“I’m not letting him touch you.”
“Then let him touch you.”
Megumi stilled at that and Gojo swore a few drops of pre painted the front of his boxers at the idea of being able to touch Megumi. They were born to different parents and yet both of them were stunning in their own way. Gojo wasn’t blind to the number of heads Megumi turned that rivalled that of how many looks Tsumiki drew.
The frown Megumi had been wearing waned and his gaze slowly slid over to Gojo, assessing him under a watchful eye. “How?” he said eventually.
“You’ve always wanted to try a threesome, right? Somebody to fuck you as you fuck me?” Green eyes widened and Gojo matched his expression. Megumi’s fantasy sounded amazing and Gojo’s cock ached for that to become reality. “I’ll be right here and we can stop him at any time.”
Megumi slowly turned his attention to Tsumiki and his mouth parted with a wanton noise. “Are you sure?”
Gojo swallowed. They didn’t care about his opinion, about his thoughts on the matter, on whether he agreed to it or not, and he didn’t want them to care. The more they talked about him, as if he wasn’t there, as if he were nothing more than a tool for them to use, the harder his cock grew, the more he ached, and the more he itched to relieve the growing pressure in his pants.
Tsumiki nodded with another hum and Gojo’s eyes widened at the flicker of emotion that changed Megumi’s expression. It was as if a switch had been flicked, and he fucked up into Tsumiki with new fevour, with renewed energy. He curled his arms tighter around her, pulled her down into each brutal snap of his hips, and moaned her name over and over. “Tsumiki, Tsumiki, Tsumiki. I love you, I don’t deserve you. Please, I love you.”
And she gave him just as much back, finding his mouth with hers in a barely there kiss that was more of a press of their lips together, swallowing each other’s breaths and noises. Gasping and moaning as they fucked one another with abandon.
It was a sight Gojo wouldn’t forget anytime soon. It was one that was already permanently branded in his own personal collection of jerk off material. If they were beautiful individually, then together they were breathtaking. There weren’t enough words in Gojo’s vocabulary to describe how fantastic they looked, how perfect they seemed for one another, and how it reduced him to nothing more than an invading bystander who didn’t belong in their world.
He trailed his own hand up his thighs, dragging the heel of his palm across the front of his pants. He couldn’t help it. The ache was unbearable and the noises they made only encouraged the swell of his cock and lust.
Green eyes snapped to him in an instant and Gojo froze, shame washing through him. Never had he felt mortified at being caught in the act. But there was something about Megumi’s gaze that commanded his attention, demanded his obedience, and with it came the disappointment that had Megumi stuttering the rolls of his hips. “What did we say?”
Gojo licked his lips and slowly said, “Not to touch.”
Tsumiki turned her head with a rise and fall of her hips, her lips curling up into a grin. She twisted so that Gojo could peek at her breasts and she continued to bounce in Megumi’s lap. “Do we entice you, Satoru?”
“ Yes .”
“Can you obey orders?”
No. He couldn’t. He’d never followed orders in his life but this time? He whined and nodded, his attention drawn to the mischief in her eyes.
“Then wait.” It was cold, harsh, cruel, and cut straight through Gojo.
Tsumiki turned her back on him and showed him all the ways she enjoyed her brother’s cock, his mouth on her skin, his hands spanning her back, his arms around her, and his name on his tongue. Gojo was forced to do nothing but watch as Tsumiki and Megumi fucked, as they moaned, panted, whined, and groaned, the scent of their combined sex thickening the air with each passing second.
Gojo hurt . God did he hurt so much the more he watched, his lips parting, mouth falling slack, his body shaking with a desperate need.
When they came, Gojo didn’t know how he stopped himself from coming in his pants. Tsumiki sounded sweet, her voice pitched high and breathy, her back arching wonderfully, her head thrown back and the span of her neck exposed to Megumi’s mouth. Megumi took the opportunity presented to him, branding his teeth into her skin like he was a man dying and Tsumiki moaned louder. Gojo groaned with them, whimpering as they trembled and tensed around one another, and a whimper was ripped from Gojo’s throat as he watched the slow trickle of cum drip down Megumi’s cock from where it sat within his sister.
It was the hottest thing Gojo had seen in a long time.
When the two of them finally sagged against one another, chests rising and falling in time with their rapid pants, when they finally looked at him, gazes hazy and their skin glistening with sweat, Gojo understood everything that little bit more. They were magnetic, drawing him in with just a look and they’d been around each other their entire lives. They were the most beautiful things he’d ever laid eyes on and he’d seen a lot thanks to his six eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered, unable to find any other words to express his sentiments.
Megumi hummed, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Tsumiki’s neck. “She’s amazing,” he whispered, peppering her skin in soft kisses.
Tsumiki chuckled and brushed his damp hair away from his face. “Like you’re one to talk.” She slowly turned her gaze to Gojo and settled her cheek atop Megumi’s head, one hand cupping Megumi’s chin as she brushed a thumb over his cheek. “What do you think? Is he allowed to touch himself?”
Green slowly looked over in Gojo’s direction and Gojo straightened up. Whatever their verdict was, he’d listen to it. All he could do was follow their orders without rebuttal, his submissiveness demanded of him from just one look.
Megumi’s expression softened and he placed another tender kiss on Tsumiki's shoulder. “That’s up to you.”
Gojo’s eyes turned up to Tsumiki, almost pleading with her. It was strange to think that Gojo was the adult here, the one in charge, the one who was supposed to hold power over the two of them. He had the money, connections, references. Anything they could possibly need, he had it. And now, as he stared up at them, feeling significantly small under their scrutinisation, he felt like a child waiting for his parents' permission. They had the one thing he needed most.
Consent.
Consent to shove his pants down, wrap his hand around his cock and jerk himself to completion. Consent to moan their names, replaying that image in his head of them coming over and over again. Consent to be filthy and disgusting and perverted, everything he shouldn’t be with the two wards under his wing. Consent to give in to his desires and let lust take over his senses.
Tsumiki hissed as she pulled herself off Megumi’s cock and clambered to her feet. Behind her Megumi held his hands out for support, and Gojo couldn’t help but to steal a look between her legs. She glistened, a heady mix of hers and Megumi’s cum mixing together, painting her folds and dripping down the insides of her thighs. She sparkled like a goddess. Gojo didn’t know he’d been staring until she fell into a crouch in front of him, settled herself onto her knees, and leaned forward. We’re watching,” she said, as simple as if she was recalling the weather. “And I want to hear everything you want to say. Don’t hold back, Satoru.”
He scrambled at the front of his pants, her name a prayer on his lips, and the moment his hand touched his cock, his mouth wobbled with a guttural moan. Tsumiki’s lips widened and behind her, Megumi moved his hand a fraction across the sheets. “She said talk,” Megumi whispered, and Gojo swore there was something almost curious in that tone.
“You two,” Gojo started with a dry chuckle that peetered out into another groan, “fuck, you two are walking sin. I don’t know how I can control myself.” He jerked his hand down with a gasp and squeezed the base of his cock to stave off the orgasm that was just there. It was embarrassing how quickly he was ready to blow his load, but after the scene he’d just witnessed, after seeing something that put amatuer porn stars to shame, he couldn’t help it.
It was clear this wasn’t their first time, clear that they’d had plenty of practice, and Gojo… Gojo was weak. Fuck he was so weak for them. “I want to see more,” he blurted, mouth falling open on a twist of his fingers around the head of his cock. He smeared heavy drops of pre that pearled against the tip, slicking his cock up with it all, hand sliding that bit easier. “I want to watch more. Watch Megumi eat your cunt, watch you take his cock in your mouth. I want to watch every- fuck -thing.”
“Is that so?” Tsumiki mused.
“ Please ,” he whispered, lost in the sense of everything that was them . Their stares, their bodies, their scent, them, them, them . “Please,” he cried out again, grunting as his hips jerked forward of their own volition, desperate to find that rising high.
Tsumiki inched forward, reached a hand out, and cupped his face gingerly with soft, delicate fingers. “You can watch then,” she decided, and she cocked her head to one side, eyes falling to his lap. “You have a pretty cock, Satoru.” He moaned, skin flushing from the praise, “It’s nothing compared to Megumi of course, but it’s still pretty. Maybe one day I’ll let you put that inside of me.”
Gojo whined with a pathetic nod. He’d like that, he’d like that so much.
Tsumiki leaned forward on her knees and straightened up until she met Gojo’s eyes with her own, until her still hard nipples brushed across the front of his chest, until he could feel the heat of her body without the weight of it. “Come for me, Satoru. For us. We want to see what you look like when you’re-” she didn’t get a chance to finish her words and Gojo groaned, his body shaking as his orgasm ripped through him.
Throughout his entire orgasm, Tsumiki stared him down, the look in her eyes swallowing him up. It had him arching into his hand, almost begging for a second orgasm to be torn from him. His bottom lip quivered with words he couldn’t get out, all under her unwavering stare. He was a goner, heart racing in his chest and pounding in his ears, drowning everything out except for her .
When he could finally hear his thoughts again, when he could feel his lungs expand with a greedy, much needed gulp of air, he curled his lips into a satisfied grin and waited for her next instruction like a good boy. Tsumiki lifted a hand up and cupped his chin, tilting his head up until their noses brushed and their breaths mingled. “Not bad, Satoru.”
A wave of pride swelled his heart within his chest and he twisted his lips into a stupid grin.
Tsumiki made a pleased noise and dropped her hand from his chin. “Megumi,” she said, eyes fixed on Gojo as she stood up. Her breasts bounced gently with the movement and Gojo’s gaze dropped to where her still damp cunt stopped level with his eyes. “Shall we go clean up?”
That snapped Gojo out of his thoughts and his gaze drifted over to Megumi who nodded at his sister. “Let’s.” He climbed to his feet, took Tsumiki’s offered hand. Not one single cursory glance was thrown in Gojo’s direction as Megumi guided Tsumiki out of the room and down the hall towards the bathroom.
The sound of the shower starting filled the air and when somebody closed the door, Gojo finally looked back to the bed. The room felt infinitely colder now that he was on his own, and it felt lonely, empty. Slowly, he looked down at his lap, at the mess that stained his hands and the front of his pants. Realisation slowly started to sink in, his mind recalling every little dirty secret he’d spilt, every little fantasy that they’d teased into his brain.
“Shit,” he whispered, wiping one hand on his already ruined pants. It wasn’t shame that crept up his spine and settled coldly into place. It was something worse, something almost unforgivable, and there was only one regrettable question on his mind:
What had he just done?