Archive of Our Own

Subaru is his first.

It's after practice, and they're all sweaty and exhausted. Hokuto and Makoto offer to go grab them some drinks from the vending machine, so Mao lets himself flop down on the ground beside Subaru as he tries to catch his breath.

With his eyes closed as he relaxes, Mao doesn't notice Subaru has moved until he opens his eyes and realizes Subaru is half sitting up, leaning on one elbow, breath mere inches from Mao's face.

Mao barely muffles a yelp, exhaling an awkward laugh as he turns away. "Jeez, Subaru, you scared me! What—"

"Sorry," Subaru says, not sounding sorry at all. In fact, he doesn't sound anything like himself. His voice is too low, too strange. It makes Mao's heart skip a beat. "You just looked so pretty panting on the floor like that. It made me want to be closer."

Heat floods Mao's cheeks. "Th-that's… Subaru, c'mon, you c-can't—"

"Can't what? Can't think you're pretty? Because you are," Subaru murmurs, brushing a thumb against Mao's cheek and smiling faintly when Mao's breath hitches. "You're so pretty it almost hurts not to touch you. That's okay, right? If I wanna kiss you? I really wanna kiss you. I wanna do so much more, too."

Mao doesn't recognize the sound that escapes his throat, but it makes Subaru smile.

And Subaru must take that as an agreement because he leans in close and murmurs, "Tell me no if you don't want this, okay?" before claiming Mao's lips with his own.

Subaru tastes so good, so sweet. Like butter caramels mixed with the Pocari Sweat he sipped on to keep his electrolytes up while they were working through choreography.

Mao almost frowns, wanting to scold Subaru for sneaking candies during rehearsal when he knows how fucked up he can get when his blood sugar spikes too much, but then Subaru settles between his legs and Mao forgets how to form words that aren't breathless moans of his name.

Subaru slides his hands under Mao's shirt first, then his underwear. Before Mao knows it, he's completely naked, and Subaru is pressing one, two, three fingers into Mao's hole, slicked up and stretching wide to accommodate the devastating skill of Subaru's probing inside him.

It feels so different from when Mao does it himself. Subaru's hands are longer, can reach angles Mao can only dream of. He works Mao so close to the edge he's practically sobbing, and then Mao is empty, pathetically empty, until Subaru is back, kissing Mao's mouth and pressing his cock all the way in.

"Oh god!" Mao cries. The stretch is thick and obscene, far more than he ever expected to take inside him. Mao's fingers dig into Subaru's back as if he's not sure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

Subaru makes the decision for him, taking on a punishing pace. With each thrust, he slides in so deep Mao feels like Subaru must be rearranging his insides, but Mao only hooks his ankles behind Subaru's back and rolls his hips up into him, thinking it's fine, if it's Subaru. It's fine if Subaru ruins him. Subaru's starlight and sunshine, and Mao's okay being his sacrifice. Subaru can use him how he wants and discard whatever's left. Mao doesn't mind it.

The pace is fast yet not frantic. Hard but without desperation. It's like Subaru is so overcome with desire to feel Mao that he can't help but take him harshly, and yet he's so sweet as he kisses Mao and slides a hand across his skin, and Mao can only whine at how good it feels to be full.

"Sally, you feel so good," Subaru moans, hand tight at Mao's hip as he fucks him. "You feel so good, fuck, I can't get enough, just wanna keep you like this forever, always warming my cock. That's okay, right? If I wanna keep using you?"

Mao nods so desperately he feels dizzy. He thinks he'll die if Subaru stops. Subaru's the one who feels good, his dick long and thick and forcing Mao's small body to accommodate him. Mao has always paid quite a bit of attention to their slight size difference and the way Mao's body stumbles whenever Subaru throws his arms around him and how easy it would be for Subaru to pin him down and take what he needs. Those skilled hands that like to cling to Mao are now leaving bruises on Mao's hips, and that perfect mouth that smiles and laughs in a way that can light up any room are sucking marks all over Mao's skin.

It feels so intense. So surreal. The practice room is filled with the sound of fervent moans and skin slapping against skin. Sweat drips down the back of Mao's neck. Dampens the bangs Subaru pushes out of his face.

Mao's so lost in the sensations that he doesn't realize they never locked the door until Hokuto and Makoto walk back in, Makoto letting out a strangled gasp as Hokuto blurts, "Akehoshi, what the fuck."

Horrified, Mao flinches and tries to pull away—he can't believe he forgot they were still at school, in a public place, subject to anyone being able to see them—but Subaru doesn't stop, only slows his thrusts just enough that he can shackle Mao's wrists beside his head and throw a half-lidded smile at their friends.

"Sorry, Ukki, Hokke~ I just couldn't help myself! Sally was being so cute it was like he was begging me to take him. See?" Subaru's words, while casual, are slightly breathless from the pace of his thrusts, and his smile grows predatory when he hikes Mao's thigh up his hip and fucks in especially deep, drawing a loud moan from Mao's throat.

"S-Subaru, wait, I c-can't—nng—can't take it, please, th-they're—" Mao can't imagine what Hokuto and Makoto must be thinking of him right now, but it hurts. Mao has always cared too much about other people's opinion of him, and he values Trickstar more than most. He hates the thought of them being disappointed in him.

"Shh, Sally, it's okay, it's okay~" Subaru sounds extra fond now that Mao has started to cry. "Hokke and Ukki aren't upset with you. They're just mad I started without them."

"T-they're… what?"

"Akehoshi-kun's right," Makoto murmurs, kneeling at their side. "We're not mad at you, Isara-kun. You've done nothing wrong." Mao's eyes feel so wide as Makoto cups his face and wipes at the tears that have fallen over his cheekbones, even as his gaze is dark and heavy behind his glasses, especially when it flicks down to watch where Subaru's cock thrusts rhythmically into Mao's ass. Makoto licks his lips. "We just hate that we missed being able to watch him stretch you out. Were you being good for him?"

Mao wants to respond but all that comes out is a moaned out cry as Subaru's thick length abuses his prostate. He doesn't understand what's going on.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Subaru murmurs. "Sally didn't even stop me when I pried him open. Didn't protest at all. He'd let us do anything to him. Hey, Hokke, Sally's really tight, but we can probably stretch him out enough to take us both at the same time, dontcha think? He's such a pretty crier."

There's no way, Mao thinks, as he's moved onto Subaru's lap while Hokuto coats his fingers in whatever lube Subaru had on him. There's absolutely no way, Mao thinks, as Hokuto brushes his fingers over where Subaru and Mao are connected before pressing them in.

The tears stream relentlessly, Mao burying his cries into Subaru's neck. They're all so sweet on him, cooing about what a good boy he is, sucking in Hokuto's fingers like this, squeezing so tightly around Subaru's cock. Makoto babies him even more, pressing kisses along Mao's throat to his jaw to his tear-streaked cheeks before claiming Mao's mouth, their tongues tangling messily, perfectly, and so, so good.

Makoto swallows all of Mao's sobs when Hokuto pushes in right beside Subaru. Mao cries and gasps, shaking like a leaf, but it only seems to make their moans hungrier and more aggressive as they fuck him deeper and harder, the slide of their two cocks inside him more than his poor body can bear.

Mao comes with a strangled cry, making a mess all over Subaru's stomach, but they still don't stop. They keep on fucking him, using him, like he's nothing more than a fleshlight meant to be filled. They take and take, and Mao is so happy to let them.

When Subaru and Hokuto are finished with him, finally pulling away after stuffing Mao full with their release, Makoto takes over and slides in with ease, kissing him so, so sweet.

"You're so pretty, Isara-kun," he breathes, watching almost reverently as Mao's body jerks upward with each thrust, overstimulated and shaking. "You're gorgeous. We've always wanted this. Always wanted you. This is everything. You're a dream come true."

"R-really?" Mao can't help the pathetic hope and warmth that floods him at Makoto's words. He's only Mao, boring and plain. He's not used to being wanted.

Subaru smooths patterns along Mao's thigh, and Hokuto tenderly kisses Mao's shoulder.

"Yes, really. You're ours, you know?"

This night changes everything. For them, for him.

Trickstar rehearsals get a lot more intimate after that.

Mao is counting up the equipment in the gym's storage closet when Chiaki and Midori walk in. It's a little late, so the sky is starting to bleed into orange outside and he's surprised they're still here.

"Hey, Buchou, Takamine! I thought you two left already?" It was Mao's turn to clean up after basketball practice, and he's usually the last one around.

"We were planning to," Midori agrees. He's kind of fidgety on his feet, expression so out of place that Mao actually sets down the clipboard he's writing on with a concerned frown.

"Is something wrong?"

Midori grimaces, caught, and he shoots Chiaki a look like "this is so troublesome, you handle this" which alarms Mao even more.

"Er, good evening, Isara!" Chiaki blurts, and yep, something is definitely wrong with them. "How are you doing today?!"

Mao's confused. "We literally just finished practice together? Why are you talking like we haven't spoken all week?"

"Uhhh…"

"Alright, what's going on?"

Chiaki and Midori exchange a look before coming to what must be an unspoken understanding. Mao has never felt uncomfortable around Chiaki the way Subaru sometimes has, but he can't help but feel a little nervous as Chiaki and Midori step closer, nearly crowding Mao against the wall.

"Akehoshi mentioned something," Chiaki starts. His gaze is fixated on Mao's collar, and it's only when he brushes his fingers against the base of Mao's throat that Mao realizes he must be looking at the prominent marks Trickstar leaves that Mao has so much trouble hiding, and heat rushes to his face. "He said… He said you really like being full."

Mao is going to kill Subaru. "Th-that's—!"

"And it makes sense," Midori hums. He's so tall Mao has to crane his neck just to look up at him. Their height difference is seriously unfair considering Midori's only a first-year. "You've always been a people pleaser, right, Isara-senpai? You'd do anything to make others happy. I kind of hate that about you, because it makes me worry, and worrying is troublesome. You and Buchou are too similar like that. Like if I take my eyes off you for too long, you'll trouble yourselves into an early grave."

Mao's eyes are so wide, and he forces an awkward laugh. "S-sorry, I don't know what you—"

"It's fine though, I guess," Midori continues. "Here it works out in our favor."

"Takamine…?"

"Y'see, Buchou and I really wanted to fuck, but we couldn't agree on who would bottom. So we thought… what if we just fucked you instead?"

Mao blinks. Blinks again. "I-I'm sorry. What?"

And that's how Mao ends up sandwiched between them on one of the training mats, knees straddling Chiaki's hips as Midori sinks into him from behind.

"O-oh god!" Mao's used to taking two dicks at the same time, with Trickstar being surprisingly impatient when it comes to sex and not being able to wait long to take their turn, but even though Subaru and Hokuto and Makoto are so big it leaves Mao desperate, they have nothing on the massive horse cock hanging between Midori's legs.

He'd make first class porn stars feel inadequate. That thing's a monster.

"Too much," Mao babbles desperately. "Too much, I can't, I can't, it w-won't fit, y-you're too b-big, please—"

Chiaki moans in his ear, so low it sends shivers down Mao's spine. His grip is firm on Mao's hip, and Mao knows he must be on the edge too, with the feeling of Midori's thick cock trying to slide against his in Mao's already stuffed hole. "I-it's fine, Isara, you're doing so good, just a little more, y-you can take it."

It's not just a little more. There's nothing little about Midori at all, from his large hands holding Mao in place to his wide chest at Mao's back, sweaty and panting.

"Please," Mao whimpers. "P-please, please, I c-can't, I can't—"

Midori sinks deeper into him, forcing in those last few inches, and Mao wails.

It feels like something in his mind fractures. This is impossible, there's no way Midori can actually fit, but then he is, and he does, and Mao is shaking so wildly between them as they coo and croon and grope their hands softly all over his skin.

"F-fuck, you're so tight," Midori moans, grinding deep against Mao's ass, shoulders curled over. At least he hasn't started pounding away yet, still trying to get used to Mao clenching down on him. That's one small mercy.

"He really i-is, isn't he?" Chiaki lets out a breathless laugh. "Isara, you have no idea what you… God. Now you know why I didn't want that thing in me. I wouldn't have been able to take it, but you…"

"You're perfect," Midori gasps. "So good, senpai, fuck, you're everything, just look at you—"

He slides his hand over Mao's stomach, pressing down on the prominent bulge there, and Mao just sobs, clenching even tighter, as much as his overstuffed body will allow.

They fuck him slowly at first, then harder and harder. From the way their breaths hitch and their rhythms grow frantic, Mao knows they're not going to last long, but that's okay, because Mao comes first, spilling prematurely all over Chiaki's abs.

He feels ruined. Destroyed. His body is practically boneless as he slumps against Chiaki's chest, occasionally whimpering when they press in too deep.

He's so out of it that he doesn't notice his eyes have migrated down between them until he realizes he's staring at his own belly as it distends forward with every thrust.

The realization is enough to make him come again, and with the way Mao clenches and spasms around them, it's no surprise they follow closely behind.

☼

"Whoops, my bad!" Chiaki laughs later, when Mao has finally regained consciousness and scolds them as they're forced to scrub down the mat.

"Next time just think before you do things, okay? These mats stick way too easily! At least pick a surface that's easier to clean up."

Midori has been slumped like a wet noodle against the wall, but he perks up a little at Mao's words. "Next time?"

Cheeks hot, Mao deliberately avoids Midori's gaze. "Th-the dorms are best. I've had to yell at Subaru for this too, you know? Why are you guys always so against doing it on a bed?"

"Your ass looks really good in basketball shorts," Midori answers honestly.

Mao uses one of the squirt water bottles to spray Midori like a cat, and both he and Chiaki laugh at the utterly disgusted look on Midori's face.

Mao's not sure how it happens, but he quickly learns that his fellow idols are a lot more sexually forward than he thought.

Eichi likes to have Mao ride him. Sometimes he doesn't even let Mao move for hours, just having Mao sit up on his lap, warming his cock. It used to make Mao feel extra small and flustered, especially since Eichi's chair in the student council office is so tall Mao's feet don't even touch the ground, but he's since gotten used to Eichi treating him like an obedient little pet.

At least he doesn't make Mao wear a collar. Mao's already pathetic ego would never recover from that.

Keito yells at Eichi the first time he walks in on them, but then he sort of waffles around with his embarrassment, eyes always lingering a little too long on Mao's hips and sometimes finding excuses to stand a little too close.

Mao is actually the one to kiss him first, at Eichi's encouragement, and now Keito's a lot less shy about it. In fact, he might be the hungriest of them all.

Adonis and Souma are really gentle with him. Kaoru makes sure Mao knows he only likes girls before sinking into Mao's ass. Mao only slept with Madara once, but it revealed a glimpse of something so dark it almost terrified Mao yet made him want to take care of Madara in equal measure.

Natsume fucks Mao like he hates him. Mao probably understands him the least. Most of the time Natsume just likes to glare at him for no reason and make cryptic remarks, but then occasionally he'll grab Mao's arm and drag him into the secret library, then proceed to bend Mao over a table and edge him until he's a sobbing, writhing mess.

He gets kinda sweet after though, so Mao doesn't mind. He's used to dealing with tsunderes.

The only person his relationship doesn't change with is Ritsu. Ritsu still demands Mao's attention like a possessive boyfriend and narrows his eyes suspiciously whenever Mao wears a turtleneck to class, but he never makes a move on Mao or tries to shove his hands down Mao's pants.

It's… surprising. Really surprising. Mao tries to swallow down whatever he feels about Ritsu's apparent disinterest—because he won't call it disappointment, he won't—but he can't help but wonder what must be so wrong with himself that Ritsu isn't even tempted.

"…Maa-kun, are you limping?"

"W-what? No! S-shut up."

Eichi calls it boudoir photography. He tells Mao that he was specifically requested, and declining the ambassador position for this luxury brand would be a terrible business decision for both him and Trickstar.

Mao really wishes Eichi had been clearer about the fact that it involves revealing lingerie.

He also wishes he was told he'd be paired with Sakuma Rei.

"Are you alright?" Rei murmurs as he curls his body over Mao's from behind. Even when they were just kids, Rei has always seemed larger than life, with a captivating presence more addictive than anyone Mao has ever known, but he feels especially intoxicating here, pressed against Mao's back as Mao trembles against the wall. "Your heart is beating very fast."

"I… I'm fine," Mao manages, just barely.

Rei exhales a low, quiet laugh. "I'm sure you are. Kaoru-kun said you're very sweet when he uses you, and our puppy can never stop staring at your ass. Not that I can blame them, hm? You're very lovely, Isara-kun."

A soft whimper escapes Mao's throat, shaky and weak. He can't help it. They just finished a very long, very torturous photoshoot where Mao was forced to wear lacy excuses for underwear and drape himself all over Rei's lap.

Rei, who is so hot he could make a straight man drop his pants and looks unfairly gorgeous in a three-piece suit.

Rei, who Mao had an embarrassing crush on all throughout childhood—and also happened to be the first person to ever break Mao's heart.

To say Mao's a little pent up is an understatement. And it doesn't help that the moment they stepped back into their dressing room, Rei's been staring at Mao like a beast that hasn't eaten in weeks.

"White suits you," Rei continues, when it becomes clear Mao can't respond. "And this lace…" His fingers slide across Mao's bare stomach to the flimsy piece of fabric that barely draws a line over Mao's hip. "It looks stunning against your skin. You're like the most delicately wrapped gift. So precious, so sweet."

God. Mao is trembling all over. Is the air conditioning broken? He doesn't know how he's still on his feet.

"For years, I've tried to keep my distance because you were never mine to want, but now…" Rei brushes Mao's hair away from his neck. Presses a soft kiss there. His breath hitches when Mao's knees nearly give out and he has to grip Rei's arm to keep from collapsing to the ground. "Ah, my self-control is far worse than I thought. I really believed I'd be able to handle taking care of you like this."

Mao can't help but lean into Rei's chest. It takes everything in him not to beg. "S-senpai…?"

"I've held back for so long. You'll forgive me for giving in just this once, yes?"

☼

Rei fucks him with purpose, so deep. Instead of just taking him roughly against the wall like Mao half-expected, Rei lays him out on the table like a treasure to be worshiped, then he makes Mao come three devastating times before finally pushing inside him.

By then, Mao's already a sloppy, sobbing mess, but it's the way that Rei looks at him, all gleaming desire and spell-binding intensity, hands firm as he tells Mao to keep your eyes open, eyes on me, sweetheart, that's it, don't turn away, I'm the one in you, all for me—

Mao comes, again and again. Is taken, again and again. He's used to it by now, used to being used and left aching, but there's a certain tenderness to Rei's touch that defies everything Mao thinks he knows about sex.

It should be rough, shouldn't it? It should be mind-blowing and ruining and intense. And it is.

And yet.

"Perfect," Rei breathes, thrusts growing almost worshiping, reverent, as he curls his shoulders over Mao's much smaller frame, all so he can kiss him every chance he gets. "You're so perfect, Isara-kun, the sweetest, so gorgeous, you're beautiful, just like that—"

Mao whines into his mouth. Clenches so, so tight. He's already come so many times he feels boneless and ruined, and yet something in him clings to consciousness, not willing to let go just yet.

When Rei finally finishes, filling Mao to the brim, Mao almost expects Rei to return to normal, back to putting a deliberate amount of distance between them as he keeps his smiles reserved and polite.

Instead, Rei remains inside him. Brushes Mao's hair gently back from his face. Kisses him like he's oxygen, like he's everything, so tender and adoring it makes Mao's heart ache.

"T-this doesn't have to be it, y'know," Mao tries, attempting at casual. "You can have me again. W-whenever you want. Everyone does. I don't mind."

Rei only smiles sadly. Kisses him one more time. The last time. "No," he says quietly. "I can't."

In hindsight, it's almost surprising this doesn't happen sooner.

Mao is like a shared whiteboard hung up in the hall with a wide collection of markers for anyone to use as they see fit. They like to bite him, grab him, bruise him. No matter how many times Mao begs them to be more careful, they seem incapable of not leaving marks.

Normally, it's not a big issue. Mao can use turtlenecks and concealer to mask most of the bruises. He's gotten pretty good with a makeup brush.

Unfortunately, no cover up is perfect, and Mao forgets to be careful with his thighs.

☼

The photos go viral on the internet. Just an otherwise enjoyable festival somehow turning into a media frenzy all because Subaru excitedly carries Mao around on his back, and neither of them notice the way Mao's shorts hike up to reveal dark, unmistakable, finger-shaped bruises until it's too late.

Some fans try to rationalize it. Say they're from Subaru's piggy back rides. Say maybe they're from practice, or just a trick of the light.

Everyone else seems to come to the same conclusion: Isara Mao, jack-of-all-trades, magician of Trickstar, next in line to be student council president, doe-eyed variety show darling, is having really aggressive sex.

☼

Eichi takes charge of his punishment.

"K-Kaichou, please," Mao sobs. "P-please, I'm s-sorry, I—I didn't mean—it w-wasn't—"

He tugs weakly against his restraints. Writhes uselessly on the bed. It should be something of a comfort, he thinks, that they're doing this in Eichi's bedroom, on his plush comforter that Mao has grown to be very familiar with over the past few months, despite costing more than Mao will ever make in his life.

But even if Mao is used to being tied down whenever one of his friends are feeling a little hungrier, this level of overstimulation is still too much.

Eichi hums absently as he trails his fingers along Mao's hip. Doesn't bat an eye as Mao sobs and begs under the slightest touch. "Are you really? Because from what I understand, negligence can't be solved with remorse. And you were very careless, Mao. You know better than anyone how valuable an idol's reputation is in this industry, and yet…"

He ghosts his fingers lower, between Mao's thighs, not touching the thick toy stuffed in Mao's hole but teasing so close Mao swears he's going insane. "I'm sorry," Mao whimpers. "Please, m'sorry, m'sorry, I—a-ah!"

Eichi calmly turns up the vibrations. His expression feels entirely too unbothered in the face of Mao's tears.

And Mao is sobbing. He can't even be embarrassed with how pathetic he's acting because it all hurts so much. With Mao's arms and legs tied down and the massive vibrator keeping him horrendously full, Eichi has full control over Mao's reactions, and he's made it clear, from the way he pushes Mao nearly to the edge before drawing back, that he won't let Mao finish until he's decided it's enough.

"I guess I just expected better from you," Eichi sighs. "I personally chose you to be my successor, and you've already gotten into a scandal before you've even taken up the role. How can I entrust the school to you after this?"

Mao chokes on a broken, shuddering sob. He can't—he can't do this. Can't take this. He can usually handle a lot, but for some reason, tied up and shaking like this, being told how bad he is, how much of a disappointment he's been, he feels too open, too raw, and it makes him want to die.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, you're okay," Eichi soothes. "You can take it, angel, I know you can. Isn't that right? You're so sweet, so good. I know you always just want to be good."

Good. Mao nods his head, clumsily, desperately. Eichi's right. This is what Mao wants. He needs it. He'll do anything to be good.

It's that thought Mao clings to when Eichi wraps his fingers around the base of the vibrator and fucks Mao with it until he's a blubbering, incoherent wreck. And it's that thought he definitely holds onto when Eichi unties the restraints, guides Mao onto his lap, and finally, mercifully grants him his release.

It's paralyzing. Overwhelming. After being teased at the edge for so long, the act of finally tumbling over is so powerful Mao can't even scream.

He just falls, and falls, and clenches, and breaks, sobbing breathlessly as he tightens and spasms around Eichi's dick.

Eichi fucks him through it, with slow, purposeful strokes only Eichi can use to drive Mao mad. He's settled in so deep by the time Mao regains consciousness that Mao can only whimper into his neck, wet and weak.

"That's it, good boy," Eichi moans, churning his hips in a way that feels like completion. "The fans can talk all they want, but none of them can really blame us, can they? Not when you're always this sweet."

Mao thinks his lashes flutter. Thinks he tries to respond.

"Well, no matter." Eichi presses a kiss to the top of Mao's head as he rocks into him, gently carding his fingers through Mao's hair. "The executives have discussed it at length, and they've come to a simple solution. Denying the rumors would only interest the public more. They'd never stop digging, speculating, picking apart your interactions with every idol you meet…"

Mao makes a small, slurred noise of confusion.

"That'd only be fanning the flames," Eichi agrees. "So instead, we've decided the best course of action is to confirm your relationship status and select someone to be paired with you. I know Subaru-kun will have his own opinion on the matter and you can choose anyone you'd like, but let me be clear…" Eichi cups the back of his head, making sure Mao's dazed eyes meet his before he murmurs, "You have a lot of options, and I am very much willing to accept the role."

Mao really wishes he'd been coherent enough to protest against Eichi's plan when he first told him. Now, in the light of day, no matter how embarrassed Mao is, the steps are already in motion. It's far too late.

"Oh, that makes sense!" Subaru says brightly, when Mao helplessly tells Trickstar the news. "It's easier than trying to deny those were sex bruises, right?"

"A-ah, I guess, but—"

"It's fine, it's fiiiiine," Subaru laughs. "It'll be fun! So when should we announce I'm your boyfriend?"

"Excuse me?" Hokuto looks one-part aghast and three-parts furious. "Who said you're the one who's going to date Isara?"

"Duh, Hokke, who else would it be! I took Sally first, remember? I'm the one everyone has to ask for permission. Even Eichi-senpai knows Sally belongs to me."

"Us," Hokuto hisses. "We agreed to share—"

"Sharing, shmaring—"

"The hell, don't give me that—"

"Hey, we can't exactly tell the public he's boyfriends with all of us—"

"You're not telling them at all—"

"G-guys, please!" Makoto finally speaks up, sounding anxious, though it doesn't escape Mao's notice that he doesn't seem to disagree.

"H-hey now." Mao tries to draw their attention with an awkward laugh, fingers curling nervously at the back of his neck. "C'mon, it's not a big deal. You don't have to force yourselves, y'know? If it's too much trouble for one of you guys to do it, I can always ask someone else."

He never wants Trickstar to feel more burdened by him than they already are, and he knows what a sacrifice it would be for one of them to publicly date him. They shouldn't feel obligated just because they're in the same unit. They deserve to have a say.

Honestly, Mao is expecting them to jump at the chance to pass this problem off to someone else, so he's surprised when all three of them whip their heads over to him in horrified unison as they shout, "Absolutely not!"

"Hey, what's up with you today?" Natsume says suddenly. "You're distracted. Is he not fucking you deep enough?"

You're the one who's distracted, Mao wants to say—after all, Natsume has barely looked up from his book since he summoned Mao to the secret library and nodded for Kazuki to strip him—but Kazuki, as if properly chastised by the demand, starts to thrusts in even harder, and Mao can only moan and shake as he's bent further over the desk.

The first time this happened, Mao had been so confused. He didn't understand why Natsume would waste the time demanding his presence if he was too busy to even touch him.

It didn't take long for Mao to realize that having the power to control who gets to fuck Mao is Natsume's favorite form of foreplay, and he loves getting one of his assistants to work Mao into a needy disaster before Natsume is ready to slide into Mao himself.

Of all the quirks Mao's friends have during sex, this is far from the most radical, so Mao goes along with it.

Plus, Kazuki is really sweet when he takes Mao. Natsume gets mad if they make out, but that doesn't stop Kazuki from peppering soft kisses all along Mao's neck and shoulders, like a tender caress even Natsume won't deny them.

"Hm, let me guess," Natsume says. "Your little Trickstar boyfriends can't agree on who will claim you."

When Mao's head jerks up, surprised, Natsume flips the next page of his tome and rolls his eyes.

"I'm not that isolated. Of course I've heard about the emperor's stupid plan to counteract the sex rumors. As if that would actually work. The only way it'd be moderately feasible is if you stop spreading your legs for anyone who spares you a glance and get someone to date you for real, and we all know that's never gonna happen."

Natsume's not saying anything that isn't true, but it still makes Mao flinch like he's been slapped. Kazuki slows his pace, brushing a soft hand against Mao's side as if to ask if he's alright, and Natsume's eyes sharpen, also noticing the change.

Natsume glares down at his book for another moment before breathing out through his nose, slamming it shut, and pushing to his feet.

"I didn't mean it like that," Natsume says, almost haltingly, like he's trying to apologize without saying the words. He approaches the table slowly, keeping his gold eyes on Mao, captivatingly bright. "You may be a whore, but the way your so-called fans are talking about you is disgusting. They're not entitled to a damn thing."

Even though his comments are way more offensive this time around, Mao can't help but laugh, relaxing fully as if Natsume was being extra kind to him. "I-it's okay. You're not wrong." He breaks off with a small moan as Kazuki rolls his hips against Mao's ass, continuing happily now that he knows Mao is fine.

Natsume's face pinches, then he jerks his chin to the side. "Off."

Kazuki makes a small noise of protest. He hates it when Natsume interrupts before he can finish in Mao.

"Don't make me ask again."

To Kazuki's credit, he doesn't complain further as he pulls out and takes a step back. Mao, on the other hand, whimpers at the sudden emptiness, though it's remedied quickly.

"C'mere, kitten. On your back. Let me see you."

Mao pushes himself up shakily on his elbows. Wobbles over just enough to climb onto the table in front of Natsume to lay down as he's asked.

The entire time, Natsume watches him like a predator stalking his prey. It makes Mao's shoulders tremble. Makes his blood pump a little faster. Natsume's barely taller than him, but Mao still feels impossibly small as Natsume settles between his thighs, caging Mao against the table with his body just as much as his piercing yellow gaze.

He slides one hand behind Mao's neck. Guides Mao's thighs around his hips.

Then he pushes all the way in.

It's embarrassing how Mao still can't hold back his moans, even now. Even after how many times he's been filled like this. Even after how many times Natsume has taken him.

The way Natsume uses him is so different from everyone else. He's not as unfairly large as the others. Doesn't possess their indomitable strength.

Instead, he's pure intensity and skill, like the sharpest, most decisive blade. In the few months they've been sleeping together, Natsume has mastered Mao's body, inside and out, and he knows exactly how to fuck him in a way that makes him beg and cry for more.

And his eyes. Golden and gorgeous, burning like a flame. Their potency and hunger leave Mao helpless to his whims. He'd be willing to do almost anything so Natsume will keep wanting him. He needs it too much.

Today, Natsume's even more intense than usual, and Mao loves it. Whines for it. Is desperate for it.

And then Natsume starts speaking.

"If I were them," Natsume murmurs, voice so, so soft, and sweet in that rare way Mao has grown addicted to, "I wouldn't even wait. I'd just take you."

Mao whimpers when Natsume thrusts inside him, and gasps when Natsume rocks in deeper. "S-Sakasaki?"

"It's dangerous to leave a pet like you unclaimed for too long. If they're not careful, someone else will snatch you up from right under their noses."

"I-I don't…?"

Natsume isn't looking for an answer. He cups Mao's face gently in his palm. Tilts his head up for a kiss.

Confusion makes Mao dizzy. Confusion and desire. Natsume's usually so much rougher with him, treating him more like a fleshlight than a person. It's what he's used to. What he's prepared for.

He isn't ready for the reverent way Natsume watches him as Mao trembles on his cock. He isn't ready for the way Natsume praises him, calling him pretty and sweet, telling him what a good job he's doing, taking him so well.

It's so much. Too much.

"You're gorgeous, kitten," Natsume breathes. "So gorgeous, just like that."

Mao thinks it hurts way more when Natsume's being gentle with him. It makes his heart do funny things in his chest.

Mao has always known he's a coward, but there's nothing more pathetic than the way he hides in a classroom when he hears someone call out his name.

He just—can't. It's awful, but he can't. He loves his friends, he does—more than anything else in the world—but there's only so much his heart can handle, and lately…

Lately, he's feeling more than he should. More than he's allowed.

It's just sex, he tries to remind himself. They don't want you. Don't get ahead of yourself. You know better than that.

At least, he should.

Letting his forehead rest against the wall, Mao exhales a shaky, broken laugh as he whispers, "I really am pathetic, huh."

"You're just realizing that now?"

Startled, Mao whirls around with a yelp, hand flying to his chest. Ritsu steps out from the shadows like a wraith, as quiet and without a presence as only he can be. "R-Ritsu! Jeez, don't just pop out of nowhere like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I was here first," Ritsu replies lazily. "Maa-kun's the one who ran in here like a scared little mouse trying to hide."

Maybe it's the darkness of the classroom since neither of them make a move to turn on the lights, or maybe it's something else, but something about Ritsu feels strange. Like he's watching Mao too closely. Reading him too deeply.

Feeling caught, Mao quickly forces a laugh, turning to grab the doorknob and escape outside. "A-ah, you're right, s-sorry, I—I didn't mean to bother you, I'll just—"

Ritsu's hand connects with the door beside his head, holding it shut. He's standing so close behind him that Mao can feel his warm breath brush over the back of his neck, and Mao hates the way he shivers. His body is so, so sensitive these days. All the constant overstimulation and intimacy have worked him into an open nerve.

Mao tries to laugh again, but it sounds off, even to his ears. Why is he so bad at this? He thinks he used to be a lot better at pretending he was okay. "R-Ritsu, c'mon, I can't leave you to rest if you—"

"Maa-kun, look at me?"

Mao freezes, eyes wide on the wall.

Deciding not to wait for him, Ritsu turns Mao around, and his expression pinches at whatever he must see on Mao's face.

"Ah, i-it's nothing," Mao blurts, before Ritsu can say anything. "Really! I-I'm just a little tired, y'know? Student council work and all. I don't know if you've heard, but Kaichou is actually trying to get me to inherit the president position once he graduates, and I—"

"Maa-kun, I really don't like it when you lie to me."

Mao flinches, shrinking back against the door. There's a part of him that wants to cry at Ritsu's blatant disapproval, and it hurts even more than usual.

"Who is it?" Ritsu asks, quietly searching. "Which one of your boyfriends is making you look like this?"

Mao's head jerks up, and he stares at Ritsu with wide eyes. "Y-you… You know that I…?"

Ritsu exhales a low, almost harsh laugh. "You're kidding, right? Of course I know. Everyone knows the way you let pretty much anyone fuck you. You're not exactly discreet."

Heat rushes to Mao's face. He forces an awkward laugh to hide the way his chest is aching. "A-ah, right. S-sorry, I didn't mean…" He winces. "I just… You n-never…"

Never gave any indication that you knew what was happening. Never said anything in class or when I'd walk you to school. Never seemed to care that we barely saw each other anymore.

Never wanted me like I wanted you.

Mao's chest hurts so much. He ducked into this room to try to get a grip on himself away from the prying eyes of his wonderful, too-caring friends, so running into Ritsu like this, with his walls already crumbling and his heart tattered and torn, he's not equipped to keep that mask like he usually does. He's already falling to pieces, and this, with him… It doesn't help at all.

Ritsu's face tightens even more when he sees Mao start to tremble, so Mao hurries to blurt, "T-they didn't do anything wrong! It's not—it's not them," he insists, when Ritsu continues to look dubious. "It's not their fault. It's mine. I-I'm the one who…" Mao shakes a little, swallowing thickly. His smile is feeble. "It's me, all me. I've just been really selfish lately, and it's so hard to stop."

"Maa-kun, what are you talking about?"

Mao tries to answer. Can't. His throat feels so tight. He's a burning plane taking a nosedive out of the air, and there's not a single thing in the world that can save him. His crash landing is a gruesome inevitability.

He just wishes there were a way to ensure he's the only one who gets hurt.

Suddenly, his world tilts on its axis as he's scooped up in Ritsu's arms. He yelps, startled and flustered, stammering for Ritsu to let go of him—but Ritsu levels him with a look so uncharacteristically fierce that all protests die on his tongue.

"I'm taking you home," Ritsu announces.

"Wh—Ritsu, it's the middle of the day! I can't—"

"It's funny that you think you have a choice."

Mao tries to protest again, but Ritsu refuses to listen. He just keeps walking, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of random students through the halls, and Mao's cheeks burn as he embarrassedly hides his face against Ritsu's shoulder.

God, this is worse than when having half-naked billboards of himself plastered all over the city. At least with those, he doesn't have to see people's reaction.

Ignorance really is bliss.

"A-at least put me down! I can walk on my own."

"Nope," Ritsu chirps, almost blithely, and Mao droops like a dejected, undercooked cake. As much as Mao likes to act like he's strong, he knows he doesn't stand a chance against Ritsu when he's serious.

And despite the easy way Ritsu is speaking to him, the hard, tense line of Ritsu's jaw makes it clear that he's not kidding around.

☼

Ritsu dumps Mao on his bed like a sack of potatoes and speaks before Mao can.

"Did one of them hurt you?"

Mao rapidly shakes his head. "N-no, of course not! I already told you—"

"That this is your fault," Ritsu finishes for him, sounding tense. "I know." He's still standing at the foot of the bed and making no move to sit down, which puts him at a much higher height than Mao, who stares up at him with wide, confused eyes. "Maa-kun, why do you think that?"

Playing with the edge of his sleeve, Mao bites his lip before breathing out a small, resigned sigh. "It's just… Y-you've probably heard, right? The way Kaichou and the other executives want me to enter a public relationship with someone so the media will stop spreading rumors about me with any idol I interact with?"

"I heard," Ritsu agrees carefully.

"Well, it's like… I think everyone feels sorry for me, for the things people are saying, because they're all… They're being so nice." He smiles weakly. "And I know it's just because they're all good people and they're fine offering a liferaft for someone who's obviously drowning, but I still feel…"

Too much. Mao always feels too much. His heart is such a fragile, pathetic thing. Having his friends be kind to him like this makes it so much harder to remember not to get attached, and he was already half in love with them the first time they kissed. Them offering to fall on the sword and act as Mao's boyfriend, no matter how ingrained in pity the offer may be… It makes him dream of things he shouldn't.

Mao forces an awkward laugh. "S-sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything. I should feel lucky they're not all running away from me with the mess I'm in. I just…"

Ritsu is quiet. "Have you picked someone yet?"

"Ah, not really? I probably should soon, but it just feels so weird to—"

"What about me then?"

Mao gapes. "You?"

Ritsu smiles wryly. "Maa-kun hasn't even considered me as a possibility?"

"I—it's not that! You just—we haven't even—" Slept together, he thinks. Kissed. Anything. "Ritsu, you don't have to feel obligated to offer just because we're childhood friends."

"Do you really think that's the only reason I'd want to do this with you?" When Mao only blinks up at him, confused, Ritsu's lips tighten slightly before he twists them into a much more familiar smile. "Well, I still think I'm the best option," he drawls, in that casual, crooning way of his that always makes Mao fluster even more. "Everyone already knows how close we are, so it wouldn't even come as a surprise. Childhood friends to lovers is a suuuuper popular trope, y'know. It works out perfectly."

"W-wait wait wait!" Mao blurts. "Are you actually being serious right now? You're not kidding around?"

Ritsu's expression is unreadable. "What, you're okay with anyone else except for me?"

He winces. "T-that's not…"

"What then?"

Mao stares at his hands. Tries to offer a weak smile, and fails miserably. "Ritsu, I'm not—I'm not clean, y'know? I'm all used up. There's not much of me left. Fake relationship or not, you deserve way better than that."

Ritsu has gone very, very still. With all the shadows in the room, it's even more difficult to decipher his expression than usual, and Mao has a hard time understanding Ritsu on a normal day.

Sometimes Mao thinks it's unfair how easily Ritsu can read him when it always feels like Mao is staring at an empty book. Other times Mao thinks it's just proof of how much less deserving he is.

Mao has always been too stupid for Ritsu. Ritsu says so often, and Mao only protests half-heartedly out of habit because he knows deep down that he's right.

Mao's a mess. Not good enough for his parents. Not good enough for Ritsu. Not good enough for anyone.

Just passable enough for a quick fuck.

Ritsu still hasn't said anything, sitting completely still as he stares at Mao with a bottomless expression that's growing increasingly more alarming, and it's starting to make Mao nervous. "R-Ritsu? Hey, are you okay? I-it's fine, y'know? I mean it, you don't have to—"

"Shut up," Ritsu says, almost forcefully, before he pushes Mao down on the bed and claims his lips with his.

Mao gasps in surprise, but even more surprising is how gentle Ritsu is, kissing him slow and sweet. Mao doesn't know why he was expecting Ritsu to be rough with him, but somehow it makes it even more breathtaking, causing Mao's heart to tremble and his shoulders to grow weak.

"R-Rit—" Ritsu cuts him off with another kiss, then another. Keeps stealing his thoughts and any chance he has at a coherent word ever again. His fingers slide through the short hairs curling at the back of Mao's neck, devastatingly gentle but still holding him firmly in place. It's Ritsu's way of exhibiting control. Mao falls into it easily.

When Ritsu finally pulls away, Mao is so dazed that he whines needily, leaning forward to chase after his lips.

Ritsu lets him, stealing one, two more kisses before he leans back, just enough so Mao can see the burning intensity in his bright red eyes as Ritsu says, "I'll kill them. Every single one of them."

Mao blinks, dazed, uncomprehending, before Ritsu's words somewhat register through his head and his brows pull together. "Ritsu…?"

"I've tried so hard to stay away because I thought they were taking care of you, but if this is the way they're making you feel—" Ritsu breaks off, jaw clenched, and Mao really wishes he had a better Ritsu radar. He doesn't understand what's going on. "You're mine now. So I don't ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, okay?"

"A-as in you want to fuck me?" Mao is confused. Everyone uses him, so he's not sure why Ritsu is acting like it's some big deal.

"No, Maa-kun. As in I'm going to marry you. And no one else is ever gonna touch you again."

☼

Sex with Ritsu is somehow better than any fantasy he's ever had.

Because this is how Mao has always imagined Ritsu would kiss him: powerful and rough, with the kind of deadly intensity that could bring any man to his knees. Ritsu's hands have always been his favorite, but there's nothing familiar about the way Ritsu gropes at Mao's skin and tears at his clothes. Every kiss feels like religion, every touch a flame.

There's a brief moment where Ritsu hesitates, like he's unsure if Mao's actually okay with this, but the mere thought of that, of any world or time or life where Mao could possibly not want Ritsu, is so absurd that Mao almost laughs.

Instead, he wraps his arms shakily around Ritsu's shoulders and begs, "Ricchan, please," and any indecision is wiped from Ritsu's face.

He fills Mao so, so perfectly. Stretches him deep and wide. Mao has wanted this for so long that it almost feels unreal that it's actually happening, and Mao is horribly selfish. He wants Ritsu to mean it. So Mao clenches extra tight and rolls his hips in a way that makes Ritsu's breaths stutter, as if hoping maybe he can trick Ritsu into wanting him, too.

Maybe enough to actually keep him.

"Maa-kun," Ritsu moans, against his mouth, then his cheek, then his throat as he rocks inside. "Maa-kun, Maa-kun. You feel so good, fuck. You're so tight. How are you so tight? Y-you feel—"

Mao whimpers, thighs over Ritsu's shoulders. Blissed out, overstimulated.

In love.

☼

"Hey, Maa-kun?"

"Mm?" Mao is boneless, brainless, head resting on Ritsu's chest. Ritsu's temperature is somehow still cool and soothing after everything they've done.

Or maybe Mao's just an overheated furnace that anything save for an actual fire would feel cool in comparison to.

Yeah, it's probably that.

"I love you, you know? Like really, really love you. In a 'wanna marry you and build a life with you and fill you up with a million pretty little Maa-kun babies' kind of way. Romantically. And very sexually. Just to be clear."

Mao feels his heart skip a beat, and he lifts his head to stare at Ritsu with wide eyes. "R-really?"

Ritsu snorts. "Yes, really. I can't believe you're still so surprised like that. I've been saying it for years."

"O-oh." Now that he thinks of it, Ritsu has made some comments about breeding Mao before, but Mao always thought he was kidding.

"And I meant what I said," Ritsu continues. "You're mine now, and I refuse to share. No one else is allowed to touch you, okay? I'll kill anyone who tries."

"Ritsu!" Jeez, and Ritsu wonders why Mao always thinks he's exaggerating. Honestly.

"That won't be a problem, will it?" Ritsu watches him carefully, eyes bright and calculating in a way most people don't realize he can be. "I know the others will have trouble letting you go. Ecchan and Trickstar in particular are super possessive of you. They'll be angry that you belong to me."

Blushing, Mao rolls his eyes. "S-shut up, it's not like that and you know it. They won't care." Mao isn't special or anything. He's just a convenient hole to fuck. They might be surprised that Mao decided on someone without telling them first, but he's sure they'll be happy for him. It'll be easy for them to find someone else.

Ritsu studies Mao for a long moment before his shoulders relax and he tucks Mao closer against his chest. "Y'know, Maa-kun, you're lucky you're so cute because you're really kinda dumb."

"H-hey! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"