#because there's no way you can wear a mask like that without getting one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suguruspit · 3 months ago

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Maybe you're too weak for us.

A/N: Ghostface!Gojo&Geto duo... you have a grip on me. Warnings: tiny mentions of murder, slight knife play, squirting, unprotected sex, threesome, fingering, dominant suguru, oral sex (giving and receiving), d!ck piercing 🤭, degrading (not major you just get called a whore)

The two strongest sorcerers decide to play a game with you, considering you ditched them to watch a movie with friend.

"Satoru, what are you doing?" You ask breathless, partly out of fear as your friend stalks towards you holding a knife in a Ghostface get up complete with fake blood on his mask, but also partly out of something you don't dare to admit to. "I said I'm sorry I ditched you."

Your friend doesn't say anything. You know it's Satoru because of the white sneakers he's wearing, complete with blue stitching. However, he hasn't actually said anything to confirm your theory, he's just standing in the doorway to your room, eerily silent.

You're starting to think you've made a grave mistake. Slowly, eyes still lingering on the figure at the door, you reach for your phone. The figure inches forward and you suddenly hitch your breath, only to let it all out in fright as your phone starts ringing. You see the caller ID that signifies the two of you's best friend and you answer it quickly, words not quite finding you yet. There's a burn between your thighs though, as you're met with Suguru's husky voice on the other side of the line.

"You hang up, and you'll die, pretty girl." Suguru's voice breaks the silence, and your mouth drops open in a moan. Satoru's mask tilts to the side as he watches you. "Such a whore. Did you understand me?"

"Did you just call me a whore?" You ask, intending to be outraged but you can feel how wet you are without even touching yourself. It's addicting, the way he's speaking to you. You'd never tell them, but this is like something straight out of your fantasies. "What do you want from me?"

"Hm." Suguru pauses on the other end of the line, you can hear a tapping noise, and then he huffs out a vague laugh. "What's your favourite scary movie?"

"You can't be serious." You pout, knowing he can't see you but Satoru definitely can. You let your knees steady you as you kneel on the bed carefully propping yourself onto the mattress pointed towards Satoru. "Is that all? Some dumb question? Halloween."

"Well that's awfully rude," Suguru sounds pouty, and it makes you laugh, heat crawling across your skin. "After everything we're going to do for you tonight, that's how you thank us?"

This is boring, you thought they were actually going to do something. But this? Banter on the phone whilst Satoru just stares, bo-ring. So, with a kiss goodbye to the receiver, you hang up. You smile at the phone before you're knocked onto your back, Satoru pinning your arms above your head whilst you gasp in shock at the sudden movement. How the hell did he move so fast?

"He warned you." It's the first words you've heard from the taller man all night, and a shiver hits you, wetness pooling between your thighs where it definitely shouldn't. "You wanna get hurt, sweetheart?"

You stare at the mask, cheeks flushed and eyes hooded as you bite your lip. There's nothing there, no emotions, but just the way Satoru has you pinned, forearm thick and strong as he holds both wrists in one hand, you whimper.

Satoru is silent, but he brings that prop knife closer to your chest, tracing the seams of your nightgown, tilting his head as he follows the knife, lowering his body down your stomach and you inhale as you feel his breath through his mask hit your navel. The prop knife is getting closer to your thighs, and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it before you're wrenched out of your comfortable, playful flirty mood.

It's cold, the tip of the knife swirls around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you can feel the cool metal against hot skin. Suddenly, this shit got a whole lot more serious, and you feel tears in your eyes as you beg Satoru to touch you, letting a whimper slip as the knife grazes up your panties, the smallest amount of pressure before it's tossed aside, clattering against your bedroom floor and the silence is filled with Satoru's deep groan as he mumbles something about honey.

Your hips shudder forward involuntarily, and you gasp as you feel gloved fingertips brush against your clothed pussy, the fabric sticking uncomfortably, before it's being slid to the side as Satoru finally gives you what you want.

His fingers are so long, slipping inside a little too easily as he coos at you, mask still on and taunting you with wide lifeless black sockets, hallowed scream mocking you for being so ridiculously turned on. The wet sounds coming from your cunt have you blushing, eyes laser focused on the fingers that are sliding in and out of you languidly. You almost forget about Suguru, that is until you hear your mobile ringing again.

You're too lost in what Satoru's doing to answer at first, and you cry out as Satoru stops his movements, fingers stationary in wet walls as you try and fail to move your hips. He looks pointedly to the phone, and you huff as you reach a shaky hand towards it, now that Satoru has released them with a warning squeeze. You pick up the phone on the third ring, and almost sob out in relief when you hear Suguru's voice again.

"One last chance." Suguru warns, and it sounds like traffic in the background. "Hang up again, Satoru leaves you wet and alone in bed like the whore you are. Understood?"

"Mmm-hm." You nod, letting out a breathy moan as Satoru starts moving again, those slender fingers reaching that spot so quickly it has you arching. "Fuck, Satoru."

"He's good, isn't he?" You can hear Suguru smirking through the damn phone, but the way Satoru has you stuffed already just with a couple of fingers has your head spinning, warm heat spreading through your core with no mercy. "Tell him. Let me hear you beg him, darling."

"Suguru," You keen, thighs trying to close as your head falls back, the peak you've been climbing for less than five minutes getting dangerously close despite only a bit of fingering. "Please, need you here. M'sorry. I'll do whatever you want."

Satoru scoffs and you look at him puzzled before he places his other hand on your lower tummy, pressing firmly as he ramps up his speed. Your eyes are wide and he wrenches a near scream of Sugurus’ name out of you as you gush on his forearm, dampening the dark fabric of his costume. He groans along with you as Suguru laughs on the phone, and you hear him mutter something as he pulls his mask off. Oh.

“Gotta taste,” Satoru groans, electric blue eyes blown wide and white hair at all angles; he looks feral. He shoves your thighs either side of you and moans like a whore as he takes in the sheen of your pussy, your cum already making it slick and easy. “Bet you taste so good.”

Satoru looks at you with pure lust written on his flushed face, lips plump and wet from where he's been biting it as he fingered you. With another curse, he's buried snowy white hair between your thighs, making out with your pussy like he's starved.

“Satoru,” You beg, ears still trying to readjust after your orgasm, white staticky noise overlapping with your own sobs. "Fuck, fuck. Please. Suguru."

Satoru moans into your cunt at the mention of your mutual friend, hips rutting into the bedsheets as he swirls his tongue around you, thrusting it in and out of your tight walls, slurping at the remnants of your previous orgasm. Your hands find their way to his hair as you hold on for dear life, the wet sounds of Satoru eating the only sounds in the room, save for Suguru's grunting on the other end of the line, schlick schlick schlick noises coming through from you imagine is Suguru fisting his cock as he listens to Satoru eat you out.

It's addicting, and your back arches as he sucks on your clit, moaning as he feels how you're practically dripping onto his face, a wet sheen on his chin as he looks up at you with hooded eyes, face red and hips moving as he humps the bed.

"You know, we're really helping you out here." Suguru's voice floats over the phone, albeit a little more strained than before. "Tell me, how often do you stuff your fingers inside your tight pussy wishing it was one of us instead?"

You gape at the phone, frowning as Satoru laughs into you, placing apologetic bites into the inside of your thighs. How the hell does he know that? You even turn your phone onto airplane mode.

"We heard you, princess." Satoru confesses, rolling his tongue around your folds, collecting the sweetness with a groan. "Sorry. So loud when you think no one's listening."

"What? When?" You demand, kicking the side of his head with your foot as he laughs into you again. "Stop it. Suguru, what are you talking about?"

"Play along, Satoru." Suguru scolds, and Satoru immediately gives you a sheepish look, pressing a sweet kiss to your clit before kneeling up and tugging at his own leaking dick. "We didn't kill that guy just for you to fumble at the very end."

What?

"What the fuck?" You whisper, voice tight. "Suguru-"

"What's the matter?" Suguru asks, a mocking in his voice that you're not unfamiliar to. "You liked that knife when Satoru ran it over your thighs, didn't you?"

You shiver at the memory, the way the cold metal had shocked you, and you can feel your core burning again. Satoru lets out a pinched moan above you, precome dripping onto your stomach as he grins.

"That guy, the one you brought here the other day?" Satoru laughs, eyes bright as he keeps his hadn't moving swiftly, his voice all breathy as he moans his words out. "Fuck, princess, the way you moaned for him whilst you thought of us. Couldn't have him living with the fact he got to touch you."

You choke on a moan as Satoru slaps your pussy roughly, your wetness glistening on his hand as he rubs away the sharp sting, his tongue peaking out of his lips. You can't even think of whatever that guys name was, not when Satoru Gojo is above you, dishevelled and leaking.

"K-killed?" You whimper, hips tilting down to meet his fingers, grunting when he slips two inside, tiny remnants of blood on them that you didn't notice before. "Oh, god, fuck,"

"Mmhmm." Suguru says on the line, except that it sounds a little echoey this time. "He barely remembered your name. Disgraceful."

You're about to roll your eyes and pout but then Satoru's long fingers hit that gummy spot and you're sobbing out a mixture of their names, begging for something other than what you've got. Greedy. So wrapped up in your own pleasure you don't hear your door creak open, or feel the bed dip before Suguru's pierced tongue is licking at your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you moan, wicked grin as he looks at Satoru in between wet kisses.

"Satoru," Suguru purrs, deft hands wandering down to your tits, pinching and rolling pert nipples as you squirm. He looks so good like this, blood freckles on his face, purple eyes with messy mascara covering the bottoms of his eyelids. Satisfied grin plastered across his face as he watches Satoru finger you languidly, sloshing wet noises from how turned you are. "You've gotten all messy."

Satoru grins as he looks down at his soaked clothes, before sticking his tongue out at his partner.

"We knew she'd be messy." Satoru says simply, curling his fingers up and pounding you, continuing his conversation like he barely noticed you were there. "Tastes so fucking sweet, too. Like candy."

Suguru hums, making out with the side of your mouth as he watches Satoru, his tongue creating a spit-slicked mess of your lips. You moan at the way he uses you like a toy as he watches his friend finger you, both of the groaning as your stomach visibly tenses as you get closer and closer.

"Yeah? Tastes good, did you hear that sweetheart?" Suguru coos, holding your jaw and forcing you to look at Satoru. "Well. I guess I'll have to see for myself, won't I?"

"Suguru." It's a pitiful whimper, and your thighs are already twitching from Satoru's antics. "Suguru, please."

You don't even know how you got yourself into this situation, and the potential murder of your ex hook-up is nothing to be ignored, but fuck you if these two men fighting over who gets to eat your cunt out isn't the most insanely hot thing you've ever seen.

Satoru looks so flushed, red hot face as his tongue flats out against your pussy, dragging along the length of it and sucking on your slick, moaning like a bitch in heat as he brushes past Suguru's tongue, who's more focused on suckling your pretty little clit. Satoru is a messy eating, slurping and spitting and moaning as he tastes you, his dick out and leaking against the bed sheets, thrusting onto the cotton as you sob and writhe and moan.

Suguru nibbles and kisses and sucks like he's a professional, hot stiff muscle invading your every thought as you try to escape from the constant stimulation but they've got you caged between the two of them. Satoru is still in his black robes, soaking fabric with blood splatters in his hair, but his dick is hanging free and it makes your mouth water, which Suguru notices with hungry amethyst eyes, kissing your thigh before his nails dig into the fat of your ass.

"You need to be filled more, is that it?" Suguru groans, reaching into his pants to pull his hard dick out, and your breath catches as you notice his piercing, well, piercings. Four sets of glinting steel jewelry leading up his perfect and thick shaft, all the way to the top of his soft mushroom tip, beaded with precum and angry red. "Think she can open wide enough, Satoru?"

You moan in response, already working on positioning yourself above his waist, mouth drooling at the sight of him. You've always wondered about those piercings, apparently it makes everything more sensitive. Time to test it out.

"Satoru, let's give this a-" Suguru cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as you swirl your tongue around the metal of his piercings, placing opened mouthed kisses up and down them, leaving strings of drool attached before you finally reach his tip. You give it a couple of kitten licks, moaning at the salty taste before going as far as your throat allows, hand on his shaft and stroking jerkily as you try to fit it down you. Suguru keens, hips shuffling forward as he throws his head back. "God, fuck. Made for us, baby girl."

"Mmhmm," You agree, mouth stuffed to the brim. Satoru has moved from your pussy to mouth at Suguru's jaw, pressing hungry bites to it as he groans at the same time his partner does. You moan at the sight, cheeks pink and eyes hooded as the noise makes you choke a little, Suguru cursing and gripping your hair.

You start a rhythm alternating between bobbing your head up and down, pulling back and sucking gently, and spitting on it so your hand something to slick up the jerking. Suguru's a lot more reserved than Satoru, just watching you with hooded eyes and a keen look, whereas his partner is whining like he's the one being touched. You want to feel what those piercings are like inside you, and you tell them as much.

"Oh? Such a whore," Suguru hums appraisingly, before he's shuffled down and slapping the tip of his dick on your pussy, pulling it back with strings of your cum attached. "Can't believe you let someone else use your pussy, sweetheart. Tell me, is it still tight?"

"Suguru," You breathe, gasping as Satoru frames you from behind, groping at your tits and pulling gently on the nubs, rubbing them just to hear your squeaks. "Satoru!"

"Yeah," Satoru groans, rutting against your ass, both of you holding your breath as he catches slightly on the rim. "Fuck baby, please let me put it in?"

You vehemently shake your head, giggling a bit at his whines of protest, before you grind back against him and moan at how hard he is. You're almost about to cave, before Suguru pushes in abruptly.

"Oh, fuck." Suguru pants. You're so tight, gummy wet walls stretching and struggling to accommodate his size, the cool metal of his piercings a stark contrast to the rest of both of you. Just the thought of them inside you has you getting wetter, walls tightening as Suguru hisses, squeezing your hips. "Tight. Satoru, get the camera."

You're in too much of a daze to register what he's saying, mouth agape as you let yourself get fucked mercilessly by your supposedly platonic best friend. His tip bumps up against your g-spot and you're close to screaming, opting to sob instead, scraping your nails down his back. You already know you look a state, your own cum dripping down your thighs, a mess of tears and drool down your face as well as some blood from Satoru's face mingled in with it all.

You hear a snap, then you're suddenly gasping as the room tilts, Suguru rearranging you both so that you can ride him, his piercings catching on your pussy every thrust, your hands gripping his chest. Plap plap plap filling the room as you're riding Suguru like your life depends on it, which it might, considering he suddenly has the neglected knife off the floor at your throat, cold metal making you whine as it presses ever so slightly, your cunt fluttering at the sensation.

Suguru's feet are planted on the mattress as he fucks up into you, swearing and cursing as you feel his thrusts get more erratic.

"Ngh. You ready, Satoru?" Suguru pants out, letting the knife fall beside you as he hauls himself into a semi-sitting position, mouthing at your tits. "Perfect. Not gonna last, beautiful."

"Oh, fuck," You sob as you cream around him, milky white leaking out of you and forming around the base of his cock. He swears, and then you feel hot heat as he empties inside you. "God, oh god fuck me."

Suguru chuckles into your shoulder as he kisses it, soothing fingers massaging at the tender skin from where Satoru was gripping you earlier. You can feel your thighs burning as you slow down, only for Satoru to whine.

"Su-gu-ru." Satoru whines, and you look back. And what a picture. He's rocking on his heels, thrusting up into his own hand so he can fuck his own fist at the sight of you two. His cock is angry, red and swollen and leaking so much you wouldn't be surprised if he'd already came and simply kept going. "You promised."

"Hm?" Suguru asks in a daze, looking into your eyes with a possessiveness that has you shivering. "Go on, Satoru. Fuck her then."

Satoru groans out a thank you, and you gasp as you're pushed forwards, straight into Suguru's chest and cushioned by his arms. Your walls clench, and you bite your lip as you feel Satoru push in, Suguru's come seeping out in globs of glossy white around Satoru. Suguru is thick, but Satoru is long. Fuck, you can feel him in your chest.

"Fuck." You sob, trembling as Suguru shushes you.

"Be good for Satoru, baby. I know you can take it, such a perfect little whore for us." Suguru soothes you, wiping at the tears that fall down your cheeks. He looks to the side for something and your eyes slip closed, your body rocking as Satoru fucks you in doggy. He's so deep, almost hitting your cervix as he drives into you like an animal.

He's so whiny, mouth running a mile a minute about how perfect you are, perfect and tight little pussy, tighter than Suguru. It's so much, too perfect, that peak building so rapidly that you can't help but squeal as you feel yourself gush, mouth opening and Suguru murmurs something to Satoru, and then you feel your hair getting tugged backwards as Satoru moans his own release out, loudly.

There's a snap again, a flash as your head is yanked back, drool and mascara and fluids dripping down your chin and chest. Suguru had just taken a trophy shot, and your walls give a weak little attempt at a flutter, making Satoru practically sob into your shoulder.

He presses a dozen or so kisses to your skin, whispering sweet little thank yous over and over as he pets your hair, gently rocking his hips into you as a comfort for everything they'd just put you through. There's come dribbling down your thighs as he pulls out, and he hooks a thumb into your hole, whistling as he watches evidence of him and Suguru pulse out onto the sheets.

"Sweetheart?" Satoru asks cheekily, slapping your ass as you grumble at him, swatting behind you as Suguru laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to your forehead.

"W'ht?" You slur out, getting comfy on Suguru's strong chest, taking in the smell of his minty shampoo. Satoru is to the other side of you, drawing abstract patterns on your back. It's bliss, considering the circumstances.

"What's your favourite scary movie?"

A/N holy shit this is way longer than expected I'm so sorry. Also, I know realistically there would be a bunch of questions but if gojo and gets showed up as ghostface I'd simply just say thank you.

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pennjammin · 3 months ago

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PONYTAIL.

JJK HALLOWEEN! gojoxreader

SUMMARY ❥ you have a huge, embarrassing crush on the star of the jockey team on campus. you thought you’d kept it low key, ‘till he approaches you at a halloween party, and shows you that the mechanical bull isn’t the only thing you can ride.

CONTENT ❥ collegestudent!gojo, smut, unprotected, slight breeding kink mention, college!au, athlete!reader, afab!reader, athlete!gojo, drug/alcohol use, spit kink, switch!gojo, switch!reader, masochism, sadism, aftercare, car sex.

song inspo: can’t get enough - j. cole

WC: [8.1K] MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Crisp fall air brings out the gooseflesh among your skin; hair that's not there trying to rise at the thrill of tonight's festivities. The sidewalks are packed to the brim of frat boys, sorority sisters, general slackers and... even an alumni or two. So many people to choose from, you think.

Everyone’s in costume; faces concealed by masks, clouds of smoke mixing with the breeze, and overstimulating noises from animatronics. The holidays were here. You should be trying to find a relationship, to cuddle you through the cold, but right now you just want to bone.

"Where do we even start?" you hear your friend ask from behind you, as your whole group walks - stumbles, more like - down the middle of a road that has been closed to through traffic.

"Whatever house has the most fine men standing outside," your other friend answers with a grin.

You agree, because you had already shot down a fair amount of Don Julio - and the heat of the drink had travelled straight to your core, a small throb arising in your cunt the more you glance around and see the variations of muscles poking out from underneath masked strangers’ costumes. You’d easily find the satisfaction to your hunger, but you’re impatient.

You hum longingly as your eyes fixate on a crowd outside of a large house, painted black. There’s fog rolling over the lawn, but that’s not what draws you in; it’s the group of men deep into a drinking game out front.

Without warning your friends, you beeline over. You wonder if any of them are as needy as you feel right now. The liquor alone could not justify the painful feeling of heat all throughout your nerves; it was mostly your hormones. Pathetic, you tell yourself, so incredibly ready to sit down on someone’s cock.

As your friends follow you down the pathway to the large house, you feel several pairs of eyes stick to you like bologna on hot asphalt. That's right; you and your girls are just pieces of meat dangling in front of a den of lions.

You're not surprised, though, because you’re in a brown leather brazier, accentuated by puffy white sleeves that hang off your shoulders, tucked into a skirt. You have a whip on your hip, and your boots are up to your fishnet-covered knees - one of which leads to the garter holding a toy gun against your thick thigh; to add, it shoots out a little pow flag when you pull the trigger.

And it's clearly mesmerizing in the way that you wear it well, walking right into the party with your liquid confidence through the roof, aware of one of your friends falling behind to entertain someone who had called out to her.

Once inside the belly of the beast, you're farther away from the center of attention; it seems that everyone on campus had read your mind about picking this particular house to step into. It made sense; the house was huge outside, but even bigger within.

The room is littered with men and women alike; most sloppily grinding on one another on the edges of the room, others filling their noses with bad things, but above all: you notice there are cheers coming from somewhere in the center.

You realize why as you part through the crowd, dusting your friends to see what the excitement is. And when you see it, you feel yourself grow both confused and aroused.

There, under a bright red spotlight, is an entire brown and white mechanical bull. Somehow, it had fit into this massive room, and there’s still plenty of room leftover for the influx of students. You're as impressed as the rest of the group, who watch as an ebony-haired man lacking a costume walks around to check the plugs on the bull, and bleakly instructs everyone to take several steps back.

Bass had been booming under your feet, competing with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, but it’s slowly fading away now; a voice travels over the remaining bustling.

Everyone seems to freeze as out from the crowd walks a tall, lean individual with powdery skin. He's wearing something similar to you: a black button-down shirt, leather pants, and brown boots, but most importantly - you feel your breath hitch when your eyes land on the delicious black Stetson that rests atop his contrasted snowy locks.

You feel mixed things blossoming in your chest: unease, desire, and… embarrassment.

You’ve been completely obsessed with the boy in the Stetson for months. Satoru, ‘Toru, and Gojo all being the names he answered to. You’d hopelessly pined over this Satoru, each time noting in your mind just how attractive you find him. He’s on the jockey team; you always see him in a tight, white riding suit with his helmet perched against his hip. You’re the soccer team captain, so you share a field for practice, and, well… Satoru doesn’t make it any easier for you to lock in while you train.

Your friends had noticed your infatuation and would giggle about him to you, saying how you looked like a cockdrunk puppy when he would kick himself on top of the horses - all of the muscles in his legs and arms moving underneath the skin you desperately wanted to crawl into.

He managed to pour gasoline directly onto your fire the first time he’d bumped into you on your way to the locker rooms.

“Careful, ponytail,” he’d said, a smug wink fluttering from his eye.

Then it happened again. And again. Each time you bumped into one another, he barely said two words to you, never seeming to truly notice you or take you in. This didn’t stop you from wearing your hair in a ponytail every single time, though.

He would likely not even recognize you now, given your costume and heavy finesse of makeup, a striking contrast to the sweat sticking your hair to your forehead and your muddy soccer jersey every time he’d seen you in the past. But you knew you recognized him, given the way your body was already responding to his presence.

"Alright now, y’all can't all be this shy," Satoru’s horrible attempt at a country accent booms into the crowd, gesturing wildly to the mechanical animal. "Anyone wanna be the guinea pig? Someone's gotta. I'm definitely not doing it."

A bit of laughter erupts but yet, the crowd remains still. You notice people trying to egg their friends on to test it out, but no one is either drunk or brave enough yet. Satoru continues to glare around the room, walking slowly as the spurs on his boots clack against the hardwood floor, as if he is genuinely a westerner interrogating everyone.

You suddenly feel a gush of pressure hit your back, and four hands send you lurching forward, causing you to accidentally step out beyond the crowd and into the center of the room with the snow-haired man. You exclaim loudly and your friends cheer, which prompts him to turn and look at the commotion.

"Well," Satoru’s velvety voice says, lowering his eyelids into a heated squint. "Seems we have a winner."

His lips disappear as they tuck in to wet themselves, and when they pop back out they are glistening under the red light. Though you cannot see his eyes under the harsh lighting, you can feel them, as well as the heat traveling up through your belly. You wonder then if he might possibly be remembering you.

No way, you tell yourself.

You attempt to turn and look at your friends, who are no doubt giggling endlessly at their little prank, but your head hardly cocks to the side when your hand is being grabbed by a larger, warm one.

You instantly look in the direction of it, your eyes traveling up your arm in disbelief, only to find Satoru is smirking at you.

"N-No, this was a mistake," you try to argue, but he is already gently coursing you towards his body, and your legs feel like jelly as you mindlessly obey like a little doll.

"Don't be afraid," he murmurs to you, hypnotizing you with his voice as he walks backwards, guiding you right to the steps that will allow you to get onto the bull. "You look like..." he pauses, cocking his head to the side and your heart drops, "you'd know how to hang on, no? You've got those strong legs."

You let out a breath. He still doesn’t recognize you. But you know he is referring to your thighs, which are on the larger side from all of the exercise you do for soccer. He's right, you do have the strength to keep yourself on the bull, but whether you want to do it in front of everyone remains to be seen.

"My friends pushed me forward," you blurt out, "I-I really… don't think I can do this."

His voice has lowered by now. It seems like he wants only you to hear him. Not that it mattered, as the crowd is still quite loud and so is the music thumping from another area of the house.

"I think you can," he responds, dipping his head forward like a proper cowboy, feeding into the twisted little costume he’s in. "My name is Satoru, but you can call me ‘Toru. What's yours, madam?"

You almost blurt that you already knew his name, but catch yourself.

"It's Y/N," you say bleakly, knowing he’s only asking to tell the crowd, not because he is interested in knowing who “ponytail” really is.

Not that he has indicated at all that he remembers you, which makes a little twinge of jealousy poke you in the heart because of the way he was looking at you. He must look at every woman like this.

"Y/N," he repeats slowly, as if memorizing the name, simultaneously gliding his piercing eyes down your body again and stopping briefly on your leg — the one with the gun strapped to it. "Give us a show, pretty girl. I think everyone is looking forward to this."

You'd reached the steps to the bull. You begin to suspect that Satoru is the “everyone” in question. You want to try and fight him more, but something about his voice, his unhindered belief in you despite being a total stranger caused you to want to prove him right.

You can do it, you can ride it and not fall off, no matter how intense the settings.

One final look at him, and you release your hand from his, realizing the two of you had been standing there holding hands this entire time. He broke away, but not before giving you another look that might as well have had fire attached to it in the way it sent searing erotica up your body. You’re disgusted at just how awfully, hopelessly, desperately in love with him you are.

The crowd had been falling more quiet as you approached the chopping block, it felt like. But now, it's returned to cheers and whooping as you get on your tip-toes and sling one leg over the side of the bull, your skirt bunching up around your hips.

You spot your friends, who have acquired more drinks; colorful green and purple ones. They lift their cups when they notice your eye contact, and make kissy-faces as encouragement. Or perhaps they’re making fun of your obvious puppy-like expression every time you so much as look at Satoru.

"Alright everyone," he announces suddenly, clapping his hands before walking around to the front of the bull and patting its headless neck. "Y/N has bravely stepped up to the plate tonight. Since you’re all too pussy.” Laughter from the crowd. “Let's see how long she can last."

He turns and looks up at you, dropping an eyelid down into a familiar wink and clicking his tongue.

An irritating piece of man, he is. He doesn’t have to be so damn gorgeous, easily distracting you as you grip onto the reigns around the bull's nonexistent neck, all the confidence draining smooth out of your mind.

You don't have time to think about it much more because of the sheer level of noise that erupts from the room; the crowd has erupted into whoops and whistles, music’s blasting around you. A good old fashioned hype party song, that has prompted the crowd to lose their mind.

The red light makes it hard to see much of anything beyond the first row of people, which is helpful for your nerves, but it also means that since Satoru is standing the closest to you and the bull, he is the only thing you can clearly see, as he presses the button to trigger the ride.

You gasp as it begins vibrating, something you had not expected to happen. The bull jerks to the side, before the rear end perks up, knocking you plain forward and winding you. Your breasts bounce upward and the crowd oo’s.

Satoru smugly continues to operate the bull, keeping it slow as he courses it to knock forward and back, forward and back. You sit back up, trying to defeat gravity, your grip still strong on the reigns. But little do you know that you’ve been out of control since you stepped on the floor. Satoru’s taking his precious time sinking his claws into you.

Your thighs dig into the side of the bull and Satoru spins you, jerking up the rear again; the force knocks your skirt up.

You gasp, wanting to let go of the rope to adjust it, but you know you’re going to fall off if you do. You've made a vow that you cannot fall in front of Satoru, no matter how far he pushes you to your limit. Besides, you figure, having your ass our in front of him wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

The crowd cheers, realizing Satoru is operating the machine solely for their gaze, and not necessarily to challenge you.

But you have yet to put that puzzle piece together.

You continue innocently focusing on staying up, but make the mistake of looking at Satoru again. He's looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes, his top teeth poking out as he tugs on his bottom lip with them.

"Doin' so good," he mouths, pushing at the the controls again.

You groan a bit, the vibration of the bull suddenly feeling even more intense, though it's likely just a combination of your imagination and the tequila.

Your head falls back as the bull begins to move in a galloping motion. More cheers erupt, and a darkening gaze is shot from Satoru that you can't see with your head tilted.

The vibrations shouldn't feel this good, you think. You start to feel embarrassed at the thought of getting wetter on top of this bull, in front of all these people, but you can't help it; your eyes flutter closed as you try to focus beyond the pleasure.

Satoru is drinking up the sight like a glass of water in the middle of the night. He can see his effect working more and more on you, your thigh muscles flexing harder as you dig them deeper into the side of the bull. You must not think anyone notices, but he can. A sick fuck he was to currently be jealous of a literal robot.

You suddenly spring your eyelids apart and cry to Satoru that you have to stop. You can't handle the ecstasy creeping up on you, your embarrassment outweighing your desire to prove yourself a strong bullrider. If he keeps operating like this, you’ll cum all over the back of the bull.

Satoru looks hesitant but he ultimately stops the ride, and you take a deep breath when the vibrations come to a halt. The bull steadies and you loosen your thigh muscles.

Despite feeling like a failure, the crowd cheers anyway; you were up there for what felt like a lifetime, but realistically it hadn't been long, and you were expecting people to clown on you for not lasting. It's not like you couldn't stay up; it was more like you couldn't hold your pathetic desire to bone the cowboy at bay.

Satoru comes around and helps you down, the same routine as before with his hand in yours, only this time you're putting some weight on him as you feel yourself struggling to stand with your legs apart.

"You did so good, pretty girl," he coos, not even phased by your body weight. "Rode so well. Thighs a bit sore now I bet, hm?"

You feel your stomach knotting up at his word choice. "A bit," you answer grimly. "The vibrating didn't help."

"Really," he drawls, not even attempting to make it sound like a question. "How so?"

You begin to suspect he knows exactly how. His hands have found your elbows, his arms wrapped around you to keep you steady, and you find yourselves in a darker corner of the room with a convenient lack of a crowd. You blink and the bull seems a great distance away. No one is looking for you, either.

"Doesn't matter," you huff, looking at the floor. "It's embarrassing to say."

"Say it," Satoru purrs, taking your hands in his before placing them both right over his chest pecs. "Tell me what it did to you, hm? Maybe I can help, ponytail.”

You gasp then, your eyes immediately shooting up to meet his face. You almost fall over at the idea that he knows who you are, that he’s recognized you. This means that now he absolutely cannot fix what the bull had done to your poor cunt, although... with the way he's eating you alive with his pupils alone, your morality wants to fly right out of the window and beg him to fix it.

"Made me so horny," you breathe, immediately smacking yourself in the mouth at the coercion of your confession. “Th-That is not what I meant to say.”

Satoru's chest shakes against your palms as he laughs, "Adorable. Got all hot and bothered from a bull ride? Should’ve known that’s all it would take.”

Your face heats immediately. "I've been drinking," you admit with a slur, sinking farther away from sobriety. "Normally it-it’s not that easy.”

You laugh, trying to mask it as a joke, but Satoru's face is dangerously still.

“It is,” he murmured, “you always have the same little expression on your face at practice, just from seeing me.”

You want to be embarrassed that he’d caught you. But right now, your darkest, perverted fantasies are coming alive right before you; and you’d be a fool not to feed into them.

"Because..." you breathe out, feeling your back hit a wall, unsure how you ended up here. "Why do you always look so good?"

"Been thinking the same thing," he mewls, leaning over you with his hands still holding yours to his body. He lets them go then, and puts his own flat against the wall on either side of you. "Got up there and rode the bull like a champ - you can imagine what it did to me."

"What could a perfect stranger have done?” you whisper, knowing, begging, wanting the answer to be something raunchy and wet in your ear.

Instead, in a flash, his rock-solid pelvis is digging into your stomach, and he twists his hips to allow you to feel the even more solid length under his leather pants.

"We’re not strangers, ponytail," Satoru hums in your ear, just like you’d wanted; warm breath traveling through your hair and down your neck. “Always see you eyein’ me on the field. Goin’ outta ya way to knock into me afterwards. Been at this for months.”

You can't help the little whine that escapes your mouth. Your cunt had been pulsing all night, but now you can almost hear it. It's screaming at you to slide your hands down his body, to reach the waist band of the leather on his pants and then dare to explore further—

His gasp takes you out of your clouded fantasy, as you realize it's not a fantasy at all. Your hand is resting cutely over his bulge. You had been acting on your twisted, unwarranted desires from weeks ago all along.

"Ngh, knew I chose the right costume," he murmurs in your ear. "Knew it’d finally get your attention, get you to wanna ride me.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. You’d been caught, being so obviously needy. You wish you can say you’re embarrassed, but when your hand doesn’t immediately move away from his dick, you know you’re fucked.

You feel yourself shuddering, your hands moving from his waist, over his ribs, passing to his shoulders; your palms sliding over thick, unidentified shapes and running down the curves in his arms. You couldn’t stop, you needed to know what all of him felt like.

“You didn’t have to be a cowboy to get me to ride you,” you whisper, “but if you care about saving horses that much-“

"Hah- shut up," he grunts. "'Fore I take you against this wall. Shouldn’t - hngh - be doing this here.”

“Isn’t this your frat house?” you question. “Take me,” you pause when his gaze darkens, “take me to your r-room.”

He groans, a velvety sound that raises the imaginary hair back up on your neck.

“Not mine, but I’ve got an idea.” He backs away from you, and the cold sensation of his body heat leaving yours makes your heart thump in pain. “C’mon, pretty.”

So he takes your hand again, and again you let him lead you around like a little pony. You don’t see your friends anymore, but you imagine the groupchat is blowing up. They no doubt saw you disappear into the shadows with Satoru.

You manage to escape to the outside without so much as a second glance from anyone, as you’ve started a riot for a turn on the mechanical bull. The memory of riding it seems so distant now.

“So tell me,” Satoru begins suddenly, pulling you hard against him, and you stumble before he puts a hand on your waist to steady you. “Just how long did you intend to keep watching me? Makin’ me all nervous before you made your move?”

You are stunned by his bold line of questioning, but he knows full well how tipsy you are, and that you’re going to answer as honestly as you can.

“I made a move the first time I ran into you,” you squeaked. “Thought you’d take it from there, but guess your balls aren’t big enough.”

This makes him grunt a bit. “If I would have made the first move, you’d still be limping. I don’t like all the small talk.”

“I see,” you purr, “otherwise you wouldn’t be leading me to this field, would ya, ‘Toru?”

“Not a field,” he corrects. “I’m parked back here. What do y’think I am, a serial killer? Wouldn’t just fuck you in the wilderness. ‘Less you asked.”

It had a nice ring to it, but you aren’t quite wasted enough to not care about being seen out in the open like that.

You reach his car and, pretending to be a gentleman, he opens the door for you, and while you sink in, he goes to the trunk. You begin to feel your heart race; you hardly know this man, actually, and maybe you’re stupid for thinking with your cunt instead of your head. Letting him lead you out back, all alone to his car.

Your nerves ease when he joins you in the back seat, nothing more than a bottle of liquor in his hand.

“Think we need to loosen up some more,” he says sternly, unscrewing the cap. “Not that I need alcohol to take care of you, ponytail, but it’ll definitely make things interesting.”

You nod in agreement, knowing you can certainly use more liquid courage. You wait for him to pass you the bottle, but instead you feel chilly fingers connect to your chin, and his thumb courses your face towards his.

“Open those lips f’me,” he murmurs lowly, tilting your chin up towards his face and bringing the liquor bottle closer to yours.

Your eyes widen in realization of what he’s about to do, but the throb between your legs has resurfaced full force at the ghost of a grip he has on your chin.

Hot liquor is sliding down your throat before you even register that you’ve parted your lips. You gasp and close your mouth into a bubble, trying to breathe through your nose as the liquor starts to go down harshly.

Satoru’s watching you intensely, “Don’t swallow it all,” he instructs quickly, to which you find yourself glaring at him.

The interior of your cheeks is going numb, and he’s telling you not to swallow.

What he does next, though, makes your skeleton jump out of your skin and back in again.

He opens his mouth; his long, fat tongue sticking out as far as it will go with a delicate curve in it. He points to his open mouth, while looking at you through his eyelashes.

You feel your face go numb. Your cunt was pounding now, secretion wetting your inner thighs and covering your pussy. You spread your legs a bit, trying to use Satoru’s backseat as something to grind down onto.

You begin doing so as you sit up straight a bit and lean forward, before pushing your cheeks out to spit a steady mix of liquor and your saliva right onto Satoru’s glistening tongue. He hisses immediately, before gripping you by the neck; taking you by surprise when your air flow becomes restricted. Your face is jerked to his as he swallows the liquor you just spit into his mouth, nipping your bottom lip.

“Tastes s’good,” he rasps, “Know you’ll taste even better.”

“But—“ you want to ride him already.

Wanna get him deep in your belly, use your hips to wring more of those deep moans from the depths of his throat. You don’t know if you can wait for that.

“But what?” Satoru challenges, applying pressure to your massive thighs with his palms. “Y’should know by now you can trust me. Didn’t I take care of you on the bull?”

He slides his finger up your stomach and to the cups of your brazier, tucking the tip of the digit inside and tugging the material down, a nipple begging to be exposed.

“Had it vibrating as hard as it could,” he continues, cocking his head to the side, careful not to let his Stetson slide off. “Still can’t get you riding it like that outta my head. Fuck.” He hisses again and—

Crack!

His hand comes down hard on your thigh, pulling a pathetic cry out of you. You look up at him through your lashes; he’s so beautiful with the way the moonlight casts a glow along his jaw, his wet lips, and the brim of his Stetson.

“Quit looking at me like that,” he says, creeping closer to you.

“Make me,” you mouth brattily, and so he does.

Keeping his hands both occupied on your thigh and your throat, he finally crashes his desperate lips against yours, creating harsh reverberations through your teeth. He starts the kiss off hard and unsure, but once you’re kissing him back, the kisses get sloppy, ferocious, desperate.

You let out a whimper against his lips, and in the split second your mouth is open his tongue has made its way inside. The muscle clashes with yours, drenching your mouth in his saliva as he takes your tongue for his own.

Meanwhile, his hand has left your throat. It’s back on the trim of your brazier, and without warning, his fingers gives it a harsh tug and your breasts are out.

He doesn’t break away from the kiss but he does glance down and start palming the meat of your chest, pinching one nipple between his index and thumb.

Not much noise is made besides your shared frustrated grunts as he breaks away from your sloppy kiss, leaving his drool all over your mouth and chin as he dips his charming head down to latch onto your nipple.

He pulls one of your legs up onto his lap, as he nestles himself next to the other one, now between your legs, and you’re forced to lean back against the window and press your hand against the back of the passenger seat for balance.

Satoru is not showing your breasts any mercy. His hand glides across the skin on your leg, before he takes his fingers in a walking motion up your thigh and then quickly grabs your tits into each hand, gathering large loads of spit and hacking them onto your chest, the glorious sound of the fluid hitting your skin making you wetter and wetter and—

He takes a big hand and pop! smacks your achingly solid nipple, dragging a loud, embarrassing cry from you.

“S-Satoru—“ you moan, undecided if you want to tell him that it’s too much.

“Hmm?” he questions, the word coming out muffled as he now has a mouth full of breast again, his tongue swirling greedily over your areolas and sending signals to your tingling nerves.

“S’alot,” you stutter, “feels t-too good.”

“Don’t care,” he shrugs, pulling away from your chest and bringing his face back up to yours, “not finished with you. Not even close.”

You whine as he cracks a smack on your tit one more time for good measure. Now he’s pulling your legs, causing you to lose balance and fall onto your back.

The back seat is spacious, but you think there’s no way he’s going to be able to bend his body to do whatever he thinks he’s about to do.

He doesn’t seem to be thinking like you, though, because his hands hike up your skirt and he hisses at the sight of your panties, not even hesitating.

“S’cute, look at the little cherry,” he grins seductively, poking the fat of your pussy with a sharp finger.

He’s referring to the pattern on the front of your tiny white thong, but you’re hardly paying attention because your mind is still ringing at his sudden contact with your cunt.

Rip!

His hands are tearing apart your poor little fishnets, paving a way for him to get your panties off. He succeeds, struggling a bit to get them past your boots; folding your knees up to your face as he does so, commenting on your flexibility.

“Hah- I love athletic girls,” he says aloud. “So flexible. Gonna have your ankles by your ears, ponytail.”

You squirm underneath him at his threat, but he’s already pinning your legs up, your boots grazing across the ceiling of his car as he stares down at your glinting pussy - dripping all over his expensive white leather.

If the alcohol wasn’t currently hitting you like a train - your brain mushing and swirling from being slapped and pushed around - you’d be trying to force your legs closed to hide from him.

“Such a fucking pretty pussy,” he grits out, leaning forward and shooting a collection of spit out of his mouth right onto it. Your eyes roll, the warmth of his body fluid landing right over your clit, making the bottom half of your body twitch. Satoru grins.

“Don’t even need my spit, y’so wet; I just love the way it looks on you,” he murmurs, keeping his hands firm on the underside of your thighs, “‘M gonna mark you with all my fluids, pretty.”

“Shut up,” you cry out, “if you’re still talkin’ it means your face isn’t stuffed with pussy.”

“Mm, ponytail gets fiesty,” Satoru looks at you from between your thighs and bites his lip, “there’s no fun in rushing right into these things, you know.”

He turns his head to the side, still wearing his Stetson - it’s somehow managing to hang on through all of the filth - and he plants a soft little kiss to your inner knee. Then another to the other leg. He rinses and repeats this process until he’s far up your thighs, and you can feel his breath dancing over your dripping hole.

“F-fuck,” you scream out, getting more frustrated, “‘m gonna shove your face if you don’t stop.”

“Try,” he challenges, but his eyes say that if you do, you’ll be teased for even longer.

"Wh-Why are you doing this to me?" you pant, ramming your knee into his rib playfully.

"Cause truthfully," he says lowly, "I liked the little game we had going. Building up the tension. Hate to see it end..." he drags his finger down the side of your thigh, making you shiver. "And hmm, you are such a pretty girl, begging like this. Imagine if your teammates knew that their beast of a captain was in the backseat of a car, begging to have her pussy eaten? Imagine!”

His breath tickles your cunt as he cracks a mean laugh, his head tilted down so that you can’t see his expression under his hat.

You swallow in embarrassment. You always go for a little teasing, but this is extreme. Before you know it, your hand has popped out before you, and your fingers splay out over the cowhide of his Stetson as you push - hard - and push until his arrogant little mouth is against your pussy.

He’s shut up instantly, groaning softly against your skin as his tongue darts out on instinct, lapping up your juices.

“That’s right,” you whisper with ache in your voice, “shut up and eat that shit.”

Your head lolls back against the window panel in Satoru’s car. He’s not even bothering to argue with you now, lost in his own heaven of your delicious nectar. If you could see past his hat you’d be able to watch as his face becomes wet and shiny, as your secretion dribbles down his chin in a heavenly mix of saliva. His tongue drags down between your folds, making you squirm, but it’s nothing compared to when he shoves his tongue right into your wanton hole.

The cry you let out vibrates against the interior of the car. Satoru’s hand has come up underneath your thigh, pulling your leg to rest across his back as he’s slid down into a crouch on the floor. His hand cracks down on your leg in the same spot as before, this time digging his fingernails down into the flesh after the slap.

You hiss, but ultimately feel even more turned on as he drags his tongue back through your juices, finding your clit, narrowing it out as he flicks it back and forth, back and forth, the same way he had been rocking you on that damned bull.

“S-Such a fucking mess,” he moans against your skin, trying to catch all of your secretion but it’s impossible with the way he keeps eating you - you’re flooding the seat, your inner thighs, and his smug little pale face. “Tastes so good. Can’t imagine how good you taste after a long game, fuck.”

You furrow your eyebrows embarrassingly at the the thought of what he was implying - your cunt all sweaty after soccer and he’d prefer that over this? You want to shudder in disgust but, picturing yourself hiked up on the wall with your soccer shorts discarded, a leg over his shoulder as Satoru ate you alive like this - works you up more than you figure you can even get at this point.

“S-Satoru,” you whimper, feeling the pool of heat twist up your insides as the familiar feeling of ejaculation creeps up on you.

You reach and grab his hat, digging your fingers into the leather, your legs clenching against his cheeks as you try to control the shaking that you know is to overcome you the second you orgasm.

“I know that sound,” Satoru purrs against your clit, “cum for me baby. Cum all over my tongue, like y’been wanting to for months.”

That’s all it takes. And god, Satoru does not show mercy as the wave starts at your clit and pushes all the way through your body, down to your curling toes in your boots and up to your nipples, which are still dancing free over the rim of your brazier.

The shakes come quickly, intensely, harsher than you’ve ever felt them before, as Satoru’s tongue rides out your high for you, not stopping until you’re just slightly twitching.

“Beautiful,” he hums, parting his mouth from you and sitting up in the backseat. “Satoru one, Y/N zero.”

You frown at his use of scoring, knowing it’s just to get under your skin.

“I’ll even out the score, fuck you,” you hiss.

“Please do, ponytail,” Satoru grins.

You find yourself pulling your legs back quickly, your thighs still a little weak and shaky as you sit up on your knees. You quickly unzip your boots and toss them somewhere in the front. Then, you grab Satoru by his ungodly black button-down and drag him to the middle of the seat.

He’s looking up at you in a mix of awe and smug, but you’re trying to pretend you don’t feel his eyes on you so that you may maintain your confidence.

You throw your right leg over his waist. Now, you’re straddling him, bare cunt over warm leather, dragging all of your juice and cream over his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind.

You fumble between your legs to unbutton his pants and then unzip them. He assists you when he raises his hips for a second, allowing you to get his pants down just enough that his bulge is pressing against you through his boxers.

He’s looking up at you with slanted eyelids, his pupils blown to black with the rim of ice-blue hardly visible. He’s clearly so tipsy, just off of the little bit you’d spit into his mouth, meanwhile your body is hot and your vision is getting blurry, nothing on your mind except getting his cock inside of you.

But oh, he deserves the teasing he’d given you. You use your hand to palm him, but simultaneously drag your hips over his lap, your sensitive cunt twitching as you do so.

His head falls back, his Adam’s apple thumping gloriously in his throat. His eyes flutter closed but only briefly.

“Fuck- shit,” he groans. “‘M sorry ‘bout the teasing, ‘kay? Want you to take advantage of me already. F-fuck, please-“

His begging is so delicious. If he thinks this is going to decrease the teasing you’re bestowing upon him, he has another thing coming.

Probably you.

“Oh?” you hum, giggling. “What’s that? Satoru begging now? How the tables have turned…”

He groans again, “S-Sick, innit? The way I want to be balls deep in that wet ass cunt. Don’t wanna wait anymore. You’ve kept me dangling for so long. Please-“

He whines. He actually whines, followed by a low whimper as he pokes out his bottom lip and lifts his head to look at you again.

A smart move on his part because you are absolutely hypnotized by his eyes, and before you know it, your hand is passing the elastic band on his black boxers. You find your hand running over bare skin - what a slut, he’d shaved. You gasp as you continue to slide your hand down to try and grab his tip - but it’s not there. It’s so far deep into his pants because he’s simply that large.

You scoot back on his lap a bit and finally whip his cock out, and it bounces a bit at its own sheer heft. There’s a pretty curve in it and thick veins swirling the sides, leading to a fat pink tip.

You realize you’ve been staring, but also slowly stroking it, admiring the fuck out of this perfect cock that you knew you would be thinking about for weeks.

“Like what you - hah - s-see?” he coos, closing one eye and glancing down at your hand sliding delicately over his length with his other.

“Mhmm,” you reply, “just imagining how good it’s gonna hurt. Your cock gonna make me cry, ‘Toru?”

“F-Fuck yeah,” he shudders, “gonna have you screaming, pretty. Loud as you want - no one can hear. Need you to milk this cock.”

“S-Shut up,” you groan, only because his words were driving you mad - and you would not last even another sixty seconds without his length penetrating your poor insides.

But, you suddenly remember the whip on your waist. Albeit made out of a cheap, rope-like material, the gears in your head start twisting like the delinquent that you are.

You catch Satoru’s wondering eye as he silently asks you why you aren’t bouncing on his cock yet - but you manage to ignore the expression as you thwip out the long black prop and quickly get it around Satoru’s neck before he can so much as gasp in surprise.

His eyes widen when he realizes you’ve made a leash out of your whip, tightening it at the base of his throat and coiling it around your wrist, bringing his face closer to you.

He’s so stunned that he remains silent, but his plump lips are parted in surprise, which you take as an opportunity to bite into the bottom one - harshly.

You suck on it as you lift your hips and your free hand finds the base of his cock - then you slide it between your folds very purposefully and agonizingly slow.

“Holy fuck,” Satoru whimpers against your mouth. “Y’doing me so dirty, Y/N, fucking ruining me. God…” he adds, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

You gasp at the confession, and then at the feeling of his tip pushing into your dripping hole, as you drag your hips down to sink yourself onto him.

His eyes immediately roll back, and you let go of his lip, keeping your grip on the whip as your pussy adjusts to his size - feeling the drumming pulse coming from his veins tap your walls erotically.

You try not to clench, but as you suspected, it hurts so good - you’re trying not to focus on the pain. But he’s just so thick, so filling.

You whimper and in the same moment, feel a coil of fingers wrapping into your hair, curling it around his knuckles to keep you from moving your head.

“Ride this shit,” he growls, his eyes suddenly back open and completely aware. “Put those sexy ass hips to use.”

He grips one with his free hand for emphasis, tightening his grip on your hair, suddenly making you wish you’d opted for the ponytail tonight. You cry out at the mixes of searing pain and pleasure, as you’ve managed to take all of his cock inside of you - his tip kissing your cervix painfully. You decide now you can try to move, so you use your toes to push yourself back up, finding your pace.

“It’s too big,” you complain, albeit very fakely; your grip on the whip turning your knuckles white as it’s the only thing you can do to distract yourself.

Your other hand digs into his shoulder, and he hisses.

“Nuh-uh,” he coos, “you can take it, pretty. Deep breaths, know you can be a good cockwarmer f’me.”

Your breaths are coming out in short little pants. Slowly you’re adjusting to his size, and with you slicking up his cock it’s easy to start gliding sinfully up and down, up and down-

Satoru leans forward against your restraint and greedily takes your mouth onto his. He squeezes your hip harshly to get you to moan, then shoves his tongue hungrily inside your mouth. While his tongue works on harassing yours, his cock works on bruising your uterus. You’re bouncing quicker now, but he’s meeting you halfway with animalistic thrusts of his own.

Aside from heavy breathing, the squelching sound of your wet walls against his dick accompany the clapping of your ass against his groin. You start rotating your hips, bringing one forward before the other, creating a wave-like motion as you ride your slutty little half-horse into oblivion.

His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes shut tight, his mouth only hanging onto yours by his teeth as he continues to whine into the air. You yourself have gone up a few octaves, your moans competing with his, making the atmosphere even more erotic.

“Oh, fuck,” Satoru moans, “s’tight. S’good. Such a perfect fucking pussy, fits right over me. This shit was designed just f’me. Fuck, wh-why you fuckin’ me like this?” He shudders under you, releasing your lip from his teeth and opening his eyes. “Y’must want my fuckin’ babies, all in your stomach.”

Your eyes roll back as you repeat a very sultry, “All in my stomach.”

So cockdrunk off him, if he wants to fill you to the brim you’ll let him. You’ll let him have his way with you however he wants, at this moment, if it meant he’d keep fucking up into you this good - if it meant you could have his cock more than just tonight. You’d never wanted to obey and be so good for someone before now.

“You are being so good,” Satoru purrs, which makes you realize you said the last sentence aloud. “My pretty ponytail. Taking me so well. I know it hurts, baby, but you got it. You can have all of my cock - anytime you want. I-I’m…” he had been speaking clearly, but a particular thrust had made him lose his footing, bringing back his tipsy voice, “I-I’m yours to use. To ruin.”

Your eyebrows furrow, you gasp at the velvety statement. You know he’s just drunk, you are too, but you’re so incredibly fucked. Despite his words, he’ll probably never even look at you again after this, and it pains you deeply. You can’t think about that now though, because heat is rising in your stomach.

“God, Satoru,” you mumble, “keep fucking talking. Keep talking so I can cum all over you. Please, please, f-fuck.”

“Ngh, need you to cum,” Satoru says. “Wanna feel the way you pulse when you cum. Bet you can squirt f’me too, huh? Know you’ve got it, so wet like that.”

You shake your head, your hand loosening the grip on the whip; you just don’t have the strength anymore.

You lean back, arching against him, and he takes the opportunity to pop your breast right into his mouth, gripping onto your nipple with his teeth before he sucks like a starving man.

“P-Please, God… mmph,” you drag out, eyes rolling as you can barely bring yourself to make noise with the overwhelming amount of pleasure you’re experiencing.

But you’re taken by surprise when his hand is suddenly coming away from your hair, and his arms wrap around you in a tight bear hug. Your hand has no choice but to fall from the whip as your own arms wrap behind his neck to steady yourself - and just as you think you’re about to regain balance, Satoru starts mercilessly slamming his hips up into your ass.

“SHIT!” you scream out, the loudest you have since being in the car.

Flap, flap, flap - as he absolutely destroys the inner workings of your slick pussy - determined to bruise your cervix and leave it swollen and aching for him.

“You. Are. Gonna. Cum. For. Me,” he grits, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.

You feel tears brimming your eyes; it’s just so good, hurts so bad, you can’t get enough.

You find yourself seeing and saying nothing but his name over and over for the few seconds right before your orgasm, and then your poor body is spasming on top of Satoru’s as he fucks you through your high - your insides clenching and twitching, and then a gush! as your body has decided that an inner orgasm isn’t enough. Satoru was right - you’re squirting all over him, his pants, and the backseat.

His eyes bug out as his eyebrows furrow, taking in the sight of the magnificent pool you’ve left on him.

“So fucking hot,” he moans, “can feel that shit pulsing on me. F-Fuck. My turn—“

This brings him over the edge right along with you. You’ve gone limp against him, leaning your entire torso on his as he maintains his hug on you and squirts his thick ropes of hot cum all into your uterus.

You cannot see anything except white stars in your vision as you’ve lost yourself in recovering from your orgasms, and he’s not bothering to slide himself out of you just yet.

“S-So addicting,” he sighs, leaning his head against your shoulder, his hat finally falling off behind him, revealing the fact that his hair is stuck to his sweat-covered forehead.

His cock is twitching inside of you, but you can’t think about that now. You’re trying to regain your sight as well as the ability to breathe.

You lay there against each other, still filled up. His grip has loosened on you, but his hands are delicately petting the skin between your shoulder blades, his arms not letting you go.

You’re now just trying to catch your breaths, bodies pressed together in a lustful bliss as you come down off of your highs, soberness creeping up on you.

“Was better than my fantasies,” Satoru says softly, his hands still gently roaming the skin on your back.

“Mine too,” you giggle in response, the pants slowly becoming normal breaths again.

Satoru gently tugs on your hair to bring your face back level with his, and looks up at you, as innocent as can be.

“Y’know what this means, right?” he questions, squirming a bit underneath you just to remind you that his cock remains inside of you. “You’re never gonna be able to get rid of me. M’gonna need access to this pussy, at least once a week. If not more…” he tapers off before adding, “Only, of course, if you’re up for it.”

“Absolutely!” you squeak out a little too fast, to which Satoru gives you a charming crooked smile and leans forward to peck you on the lips.

“Well then,” he hums, “don’t think we can go back in the party with our cum all over us. Can I offer you a ride home, ponytail?”

You blink down at him. His gentlemanly nature from the party has returned, truly taking you aback, because of the way he was just muttering filth a moment ago.

You took him up on his offer though, legs shaking as you crawled to the front and got your skirt and boots back on. He’d had to exit the car and get back in, his long legs prohibiting him from just crawling to the front.

You can tell he’s sober now, he better have been, otherwise he wasn’t driving you anywhere. But you knew he was when his hand gently rested on the thigh he had abused the entire time, rubbing soft circles to soothe the red handprints he’d left.

You sigh, knowing you’re completely fucked. Hooking up with him was a step in the right direction, but who was to say he’d ever want to be anything more than this? Lots of things to think about, but right now, you just relaxed under his touch as he drove you back to your dorm.

And when you saw him again, it would be at your scrimmage a week later. You’d already filled your girls in on everything, down to the nasty details they’d begged to hear. That’s why they shoved you off the bleachers the minute it appeared that Satoru’s team was done practicing.

Satoru arrived in the hallway right on cue, and you hit him with your customary bump of the shoulder.

“There you are, ponytail,” he mutters, glancing around before gently pulling you into a maintenance closet. “Thought you’d bailed on me.” He presses a fat kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. “Been thinking about you all week, need to take some stress out on that pretty pussy.”

You squeak quietly, running your fingers through his hair, missing the way he looked in his Stetson but being able to appreciate his practice attire just the same. His hands find the band of your jersey shorts and begin tugging them down.

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” you coo quietly, your back hitting the wall. “How d’you wanna do this?”

“Well, I certainly enjoyed you on top last time,” he purrs, “but - hah - sometimes, even the cowboys need a break from riding.”

I. AM. SO. FERAL FOR JOCKEY/COWBOY GOJO WTFFF

And he’s such a gentleman STOPP <33

ok this was the most fun thing ive ever written. that’s all bye.

~ pennjammin

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk fanart #cowboy gojo #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #fanfic #smut

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momxian · 3 months ago

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AU where Shen Yuan gets transmigrated as an Original Character into the Demon Realm a few years before Bingge gets there. But even though he's not SQQ, he LOOKS like a near exact copy. So he figures that if he wants to survive he needs to make himself useful. First things first, he needs to know what the hell is going on, so he starts working with lower level demons setting himself up as someone necessary, and relatively important so he can figure out when in the plot they are. It's pretty easy, there's not much in the way of organization down here and despite everything he's not that bad an actor. It helps that SQJ's face is beautiful in every setting and he will quickly create a reputation of the stubborn beauty amongst the demon realm. It's around this time he starts wearing a veil to mask his resemblance to SQJ, but really it just adds to the mysterious allure aspect.

He utilizes his plot knowledge to get things ready for Binghe's arrival, tidying up the palace, setting up good staff, getting rid of some of the smaller villains that kidnap Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan etc later. Actually a lot of smaller villains who kidnap, harass or belittle Bingge's harem. It's like every time he's running an errand he meets another piece of cannon fodder that will inevitably lead Bingge to another papapa scene. It's fine, by the time he's done with them (thank god this body doesn't have the same limitations as his old one) they follow him around with big demon puppy eyes and scramble to do chores and tasks for him.

By the time the Endless Abyss moment is set to happen, SY has thorough knowledge of the abyss and all of the special items tucked away in various locations across it. You can't be mad and murder someone who helped you through the torture torment evil maze of plot relevant trauma, right?

He finds Bingge post fall and does his best to act callous and only vaguely helpful, leading Bingge in the right direction and away from the biggest threats. His goal is to be a helpful and forgettable NPC. Someone who, if he runs into him again, Bingge will have mercy for and be left alone. Despite his resemblance to SQJ. But what he doesn't take into account is A) in no version of this story is he capable of being that hands off and B) Bingge was just shown kindness for the first time in years by a mysterious and elusive beauty with brilliant eyes and an obvious intelligence.

Since this is Bingge and not Binghe, he doesn't immediately fall for SY, and is in fact wildly paranoid, terrified and angry about things in general. But every time something seems to go wrong in the abyss, instead of taking the hits and becoming the stallion protagonist, SY shows up to give him a magic item, or rushes in to protect him from fatal blows and on two separate occasions thoughtlessly petted Bingge's hair when he was injured, which rattled Bingge so bad that he almost died again fighting the next monster.

Shen Yuan is gone often enough that he still makes his way to the Demon Palace, collects Xin Mo and builds his harem, though it's smaller than it was originally. Mostly because SY had taken out the smaller villains and then because SY had interfered with Bingge's quests so often.

Obviously Shen Yuan has a soft spot for Bingge now but doesn't admit it. But he's satisfied he can slip away now without too much consequence, except no he can't. Bingge asks for him, to collect something for him. To ask him something about another demon. To just stare at him for a half hour with a vein about to pop in his forehead as he tried to see through the veil before huffing and sending him away again.

Since Bingge is obviously not going to let him slip away, and SY isn't sure if Bingge is going to kill him or not he desperately makes himself useful again. He takes care of Bingge's harem. That's a lot of housing and food and clothes to take care of! The girls fight often! He'll just slip into the mix and keep the peace until Bingge forgets about him. And in the meantime sometimes he tends to Bingge and he and Bingge have dinner together. And isn't it so cute how the stallion protagonist can blush when he compliments the dish? And once or twice he combs out Bingge's hair. And sometimes Bingge rubs the scowl from between Shen Yuan's brows and lets his finger outline his jaw over the silk of his veil when SY is tending to tedious business.

Yeah, I'm sure one of these days Bingge will let you slip away SY.

Anyway Bingge is just relieved that Shen Yuan has accepted that he's part of the harem now.

#scum villain #svsss #mxtx svsss #svsss au #bingqiu #i was just thinking about shen yuan taking care of the harem and not noticing he was a part of it

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after-witch · 5 months ago

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Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You're taken as bait, but will Geto even bother? Companion piece to Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader (er, twice?); violence against reader; some non-graphic blood and violence

There is a thin line separating your world at all times. It might be white or gold or every color under the sun, but it doesn’t matter, because you are the only one who can see it. The only one who knows what categories fall on either side of this decisive line.

On one side, there is something like comfort to be found. Something like acceptance. It is the world where you sit quietly when Geto tells you to be with him; the world where your heart flutters when he asks you to comb through his hair, or undress him for the day, or bring him his meal. A world where you are his good pet, and that is enough.

But on the other side, there is only one singular certainty:

He will get bored of you.

He will no longer find your compliance endearing. He will kill you, or discard you on the streets, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You’ve never been able to decide how much of his behavior towards you is actually endearment, and how much is a vague interest in the novelty of your compliance. Maybe it’s pointless to decide, because that thought always comes in cold and creeping: you’ll be gone, in a flash, like a wayward candle left on in the night. Dead or alive but without him, and isn’t that just about the same thing?

That thought slithers its way around you even in some of your best moments. When he pats the cushion behind him--a cushion, instead of the bare floor--and instructs you to comb out his hair for the evening. When the water is warm and your bodies are wet and close, and afterwards, you smell almost the same. At least for the night.

He’ll get bored of you, that reality hisses, and that will be that. Not even the twins could save you, if they were so inclined. You’re not sure if they would be, if it came down to Geto wanting to be rid of you. Sometimes, they are warm--sitting with you, reading with you, tending to you. Asking for your opinion like you are, perhaps, a person after all. At other times, they keep to themselves; watch you with something that might be wariness.

Nanako and Mimiko are the reason you are here, under his thumb, at his feet. They saw you and wanted you--like a mother, you think, when you’re feeling sentimental--and they got what they wanted. Geto told you this, once, your knees banging against the floor from where he dropped you like a bad dog.

And you don’t think he’s lying. Even here, now, in the sitting room with the girls, they seem to still like you overall.

Still.

If Geto wanted you to go away, you would.

And it’s this sole thought that pushes past the primal surge of adrenaline that comes when a rough bag is suddenly, crudely shoved down over your head.

He’s getting rid of me.

Over your heartbeat, though, you hear sounds that don’t match up with those bitter thoughts that whispered at your back for ages.

It’s not Geto in the room; not Geto who put a bag over your head.

The girls are shouting something--a yelp of surprise?--and there are too many strange voices, too many conflicting sounds. Someone’s fumbling with your arms, and you can feel the scratch of rope, but something about that awful yelp from one of the girls gives you the strength to shove them aside, to rip the bag off your head.

Strangers. There are strangers in the room. Strange men wearing black face masks, with their arms on the girls, rough and cruel. They’re carrying rope, too--to tie them up? To take them? To hurt them?

No. No.

You don’t have a plan. You don’t have the time or ability to think of one. Your body simply launches itself at the men, who aren’t expecting it, who trip and stumble when you throw your entire body weight against them to get them away from the girls.

“Run!” Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

And the girls--oh, it makes your heart feel fuzzy--hesitate to leave you. But then they grip each other’s hands and run away. The sight makes your heart soar, for a moment.

They’re safe. They’ll get to Geto, and be safe.

And you--

You grunt against a stinking cloth shoved over your mouth and nose, and inhale a sharp, pungent scent that makes you gag. You blink against the coming grayness as you fall to your knees. Unconsciousness doesn’t come swiftly, and there’s an uncomfortable dizziness as your hands are tied behind your back, and someone hoists you roughly over their shoulder.

You can just make out what one of them says before you pass out--

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just--just grab her instead. He must like her, to let her around those kids.”

The sensation when the world gradually returns to you is a familiar one: you’ve been tied up. But instead of soft silks tightly pinning you to the bed, or winding around your body only to be hidden by your layers of clothing, it’s rough rope that keeps you bound to a cold metal chair.

The room that you’re in, when your eyesight returns with a blurry fog, is not Geto’s comfortable apartments but a bare room with concrete walls. The only decorations are--the realization comes with a dull acceptance--bloodstains against the wall, on the floor.

Ah.

This is where you die.

A sound--muffled, still, but a jarring screen all the same--makes you jerk your head. It’s another metal chair. But the person sitting in this one isn’t tied up--it’s a man, wearing a gray suit and puffing a cigarette that glows in the dimly lit space.

“Wakey, wakey.”

He blows a puff of gray cigarette smoke into your face, and you cough, throat acidic and burning.

It takes you some time to realize that it’s certainly one of the men who took you, who wanted to take--and maybe there is some justice in the world, because it seems they got away--the girls. There’s a bandage on his face and a vague memory comes back to you; your own hand reaching across his face, clawing at him with your carefully trimmed nails.

There are other men behind him, quiet, watching the two of you with their hands folded. There are probably countless of these men, waiting for orders, in the rest of the building.

“You hear me yet? Or are you still all fucked up?” His eyes narrow; his voice is gruff, no-nonsense. There’s some grit behind it. You wonder how much of his gruffness is because their plans were thwarted, and how much is because you managed to get a good dig into his flesh. Maybe both.

Your lips part, and you feel a film of stickiness keeping your mouth together peeling as you lick the inside to give yourself some sort of moisture. Your voice comes out hoarse and dry, despite your efforts.

“I… can hear you.”

Your hands flex from their bound position behind your back, pressed harshly against the chair. There’s no way to get out of this, not on your own. And you are on your own, because Geto would not bother getting you from here.

You can imagine what happened as clearly as anything, despite the lingering effects of whatever drug they used on you.

The girls would run immediately to Geto, and tell him what happened. He would look them over to make sure they weren’t hurt. He would ask who attacked them, how many, what they looked like, and if they could remember any other identifiers. Then he would probably think back to who might have done this… someone with a grudge? Some enemy he’s made?

It would only be then that he would realize the girls said you had been taken, and he would sigh. Perhaps he'd be annoyed that he lost his pet, but that would be the end of that. It would be too much of a hassle to get you, too much of a bother. He’d need a plan and perhaps men to back him up and heaven knows you weren’t worth…

Your head snaps to the side, pain blossoming on your cheek, as the gruff voice huffs out from above you.

He slapped you.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?”

You’re not trying to be distracted. Really. It would be better to stay focused, since you’re going to die here. Maybe you can think about your life from before all this, that would surely be a more pleasant ending than spending your last moments dwelling on Geto leaving you here.

“Sorry,” you say, out of reflex, more than anything.

The man sighs and runs a scarred hand over his hair. He takes another puff of his cigarette.

“I said, you’re our bait for that greedy sorcerer. Once he shows up, we’ll do this on our terms, and our boss’ll get his curse removed in exchange for keeping your pretty little head intact.”

You don’t mean to do it, you swear you don’t. The reaction comes from deep inside you, from that part of you that’s been stepping over the line where you know that you’ll eventually be discarded by the man who took over your life.

Your lips quirk. And then, from your stomach, into your chest, it happens: you laugh. A harsh, almost braying sound that bounces off the bloodied concrete walls.

The man’s face contorts, and perhaps he might hit you again, but there’s something freeing in this moment that makes you not care. What’s another slap to the face, when your blood will spray the flat end of those walls before the night is over? Whenever they realize that Geto won’t be coming for you, that you’re the worst bait they could have possibly chosen.

That you’re simply a pet that’s more trouble than you’re worth.

The feeble jerk your body makes when he screeches his chair back and gets in your face, hot cigarette dangling from his lips, is reflexive. You’re not scared of him, or what he might do--you’ve faced far worse.

Spittle hits your sore cheek when he growls out--

“What the fuck is so funny?”

You don’t tell him--

What’s so fucking funny is that they think Geto will actually come for you. That he’ll deign to respond to their blackmail, the heavy presumption of it all, just to rescue you.

A trinket. A pet. A toy.

You smile, and wait to die.

Surprises are not something Geto particularly enjoys, unless they end up working to his advantage. And there is a keen sense, as he picks up the sudden sounds of scuffles and running feet and shouts, that this is not going to be a surprise he welcomes.

Something in him turns dull and heavy when he sees the girls running down the hall, hair askew, missing the smiles they often sport around him--instead, their faces are etched in worry, fear, and a terrible sort of uncertainty that he hasn’t seen in them in years.

Everything connects together like an unwanted puzzle. The sounds of a scuffle. The girls with their gasping breaths, their flailing limbs, words that tumble out together like spilled marbles--

“They took her.”

Her.

You.

You, whom he expected to find sitting quietly, sweetly, with Nanako and Mimiko when he returned to you in an hour or two. Yet everything was wrong. Topsy-turvy. There would be no quiet evening where you looked up at him with ridiculous doe eyes, hoping to please him, eager to do whatever he told you.

There would be no warm satisfaction in his gut at the sight, no pleasant tingling in his skin as he bade you to do as he pleased.

Instead, he would be spending his time retrieving you, and what if–the thought comes, and it’s disturbing how much the thought seems to weigh him down. What if you’re already dead? Disposed of, a corpse?

No. He shakes his head. They wanted you as bait, clearly; or rather, wanted the girls. Pride puffs in him that you protected them, at least. A small lightness in a sea of grey.

Still–you were gone, and uncertainty weighed heavy in the air as he weighed the best options for retrieving you.

It was an unpleasant surprise, after all.

They--whoever they were, it did not matter. Perhaps the girls already told him, but their identity wasn’t important. Not only because Geto didn’t have the slightest care over who they were, but because they would be dead in a matter of hours, if not sooner.

No one disrespects him like this and lives.

The thought of their filthy monkey hands dirtying you, a pet he had risen up from the lowest of the low into something more palatable and pleasant, made acrid bile climb into his throat.

Oh, you were beneath him, of course. There was no doubting that. But the stench of these stranger’s mediocrity and ape-like helplessness would coat you like dust, undoing so much of his hard work.

Geto collects only the finest things and oh, it had taken time, but you now counted among them.

He doesn’t need a plan. Why would he, to counteract a foolish kidnapping perpetuated by some half-baked mafia gang? They stood no chance against him. Even without his curses. He’s not sure he’d even release curses against these monkeys; it would be a waste of time and talent.

All he does is nod to the girls, who have curled up on his sofa, holding each other tight.

“I’ll be back.”

At this, they smile, and he can see their breaths coming easier, their shoulders relaxing down.

He doesn’t even need to tell them that he won’t be coming back alone.

It is, as with so many things, a certainty.

The lingering pain after they left you alone was not too awful. Yes, your lip was bleeding--the man wore metal rings--and your neck was sure to bruise, if you were left alive long enough for the skin to get all mottled.

But you had expected the pain, and that made it easier to manage while you waited for them to return. They would probably kill you now. A gun to the head, you think. They wouldn’t want to waste time with messier and slower implements, unless they were that angry about their “bait” plan failing.

You had expected the pain, and now you expect the door to open, for those no-nonsense guards to come through and simply pull out a gun and that would be that. Would there be pain? For a moment, maybe, but hopefully not more.

You don’t expect what actually happens.

Shouts--that quickly turn to screams.

Clanging of metal, the sound of something being struck and sliced.

Thumping, an awful, dull sound; like a carcass at the butchershop being let off its chain.

And then that door in front of you creaking open to reveal the last person in the world you ever expected to see in the doorway.

Geto.

Geto, with blood sprayed on his face, gore clotting on his clothes.

It’s so unexpected that you don’t believe it until he’s behind you, the familiar warmth of his body turned upside down with the new stench of metallic blood, mingled the scent of your own sweat, the lingering puffs of cigarette smoke.

It’s not until he’s made you stand up, that he’s right in front of you, tilting your chin up to look at him that the realization comes.

He came for you.

He killed for you.

It’s too much--it’s too much to realize the reality beyond that line was bullshit the entire time. It’s too much to realize that you were, perhaps, worth something after all. Too much to see Geto covered in blood and wonder, briefly, if he had been hurt in the process of your rescue.

It’s too much, all of it, and you black out.

From adrenaline, from injuries, or perhaps from sheer disbelief.

When you wake up, you are sitting on the floor of Geto’s spacious bathroom. Disorientation keeps you on the floor for too long, because then there are hands--Geto’s--on you, pulling you to unsteady feet.

Despite the swaying of your body, there is something grounding about all this. You, and Geto, in this familiar space.

Geto stands in front of you, face impassive, still covered in specks of blood. The reek of his blood covered clothing is stronger in this space, an invasion of stinking metal.

“Strip,” he tells you. Your body obeys before your mind registers the command fully, hands trembling as you peel off clothing stuck to you by sweat and a bit of blood. Most of it wasn’t yours.

He tsks at your naked form, and shame creeps down your collarbone--stopping cold when he opens his mouth again.

“Remove my clothing.” Another order, obeyed just as quickly, but perhaps with more brightness than you thought possible. If he still wants you to do this, it means he doesn’t find you too disgusting, does he? He can’t, if he’s allowing you to touch him like this.

He doesn’t give the clothing a second glance--he’ll probably burn it, and yours too--as he steps toward the tub.

The bath has already been prepared, though without the usual luxuries Geto asks you to slip in for him; lotions and salts, dried flowers and oils.

Still, it is a comfort when Geto steps into the tub. It is all familiar to you, expected--welcomed, even. The way the water sloshes as Geto steps inside, the warm heat of the water rising to greet you as he beckons you closer. The firm, damp grip of his hand as he steadies you, lest you slip and annoy him.

"Wash this filthy monkey blood off me," he says, when you’ve settled in, his voice soft and clipped.

Is he angry with you, you wonder, or the people he’s killed? Would he think on this later, and decide that it was far too troublesome to go after you in the end? Maybe the next time you were a target, he wouldn’t save you after all. He’d leave you to die and mutter that once was quite enough. He--

“Well?”

“Sorry,” you murmur, not a reflex this time but a genuine apology. You were making him wait. That wouldn’t do.

So you take up the cloth and gently wipe at his face and body, where those flecks of blood have sprayed onto him like troublesome paint. You go slow, soft, just like he’s taught you to do.

It’s the softness of the moment that pushes the words from your mouth. If he had not brought you here, if you two were not together in the warm, naked intimacy of the water, you might never have dared to ask.

“Why did you save me?”

You don’t even stop wiping at his skin, dipping the cloth into the water and watching it run red. Not until he grips your wrists with his wet fingers, making you drop the cloth.

He pulls your hands closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to your damp skin. Soft. Gentle. A streak of blood near his mouth catches on your skin.

“I merely took back what is mine.” His eyes roam over you; you, the pet he owns, the pet he’s created. How cold his words are. Strict, no-nonsense. What you’ve come to expect from him.

And yet, and yet--

He presses his lips to your knuckles again, and inhales the scent of you, all traces of cigarette smoke on your hands washed away with the bathwater.

#yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #afterwitch writes

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smutoperator · 30 days ago

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Wife's Revenge

Krystal Jung "Mrs. Soojung", "Vicky" Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

Part of Legends series

Tags: anal reluctance, ass eating, belly bulging, (lots of) blowjobs, cheater, creampie, domination, DSLs, facial, fast-paced sex, good-flavoring holes, it girls, leg-shaking orgasms, (some) lesbian, prostitutes, recording, revenge, riding, sex toys, strip club, threesome, tied-up, voyeurism, wife/mistress, wigs

Word count: 9546.

It's yet another night where you have arrived late. The days go by, and it seems like each day you get home a couple minutes later than before. Your wife rarely sees you these days, just when you go to bed and get up.

But wives know when things are unusual; they always do. And it's no different with Mrs. Soojung, your beautiful spouse that is on the verge of turning 30, and just like that, it feels like you don't want her anymore.

At this point, most wives would have already confronted their man. But Mrs. Soojung behaves differently. Either she doesn't seem to care about your late-night escapades or she's plotting something behind your back. Either way, you feel like you'll know it soon.

Your wife's birthday is coming up soon. You have to buy something for her out of appeasement at least, but your head these days is on the much younger girl you have been going out with lately.

Too bad Mrs. Soojung knows it too.

One day, without you noticing, she picks up your phone and starts texting the girl you're dating behind her back, a very young woman in her early 20s that just goes by the name of "Vicky.".

"Meet me at my place," Vicky texts you—well, your wife, actually—who exchanges messages with her and gets to see your whole story of torrid texts and even a couple dick pics in between that you sent to Vicky.

Mrs. Soojung finally arrives at Vicky's place, finding the girl that her husband was cheating on her with just chilling by her bed. She has to hold herself back. She clearly wants to smack Vicky in two pieces, but shows some restraint because she knows it's not her fault; her husband is a prick and needs to be dealt with.

"Vicky, interesting, I used to have a friend called Victoria," Mrs. Soojung says, reminding herself of the times she used to be Vicky's age. "The smell of your perfume—it's the same my husband has been carrying for months," Mrs. Soojung tells Vicky.

"I'm just a professional; they come with the money; we give them sex; I can't think about the feelings of their wives. Your husband isn't the first married man that I had as a client—far from it, actually," Vicky answers.

Mrs. Soojung is truly impressed with the way Vicky carries herself. "How old are you?" she asks. "20," Vicky answers. Mrs. Soojung is surprised. She thought she would be much older, but at such a young age, Vicky seems to be a quite mature woman.

"You know, Vicky, my birthday is tomorrow." Mrs. Soojung says. "What gift do you want? Vicky asks. "Revenge," Mr. Soojung answers.

"For the right money, I can give you that," Vicky answers.

Mrs. Soojung hesitates but pays Vicky. The sex worker already has a plan drawn up in her mind. "Meet me at the strip club tonight," she says. "Here's your wig and your carnival mask," she continued, giving Mrs. Soojung her disguise.

Mrs. Soojung celebrated her birthday with you. The gift you gave her was rather unusual—fishnets. "I think you'll look very sexy in them," you told her. Soojung seemed to agree.

"Sorry, I have to go, late business meeting," you told your wife. "I wish I could stay for your birthday," you told Soojung. "It's fine," she answered. The plan was set in motion.

Soojung knew exactly where you were going. Vicky messaged her directly. "Get ready," she texted. Vicky picked Soojung up in your house, and the two rushed to arrive at the strip club before you could get there.

"You look beautiful in this outfit," Vicky told Mrs. Soojung, who was wearing the fishnet you just had gifted her, a blonde wig slightly different from Vicky's own, glasses, and a nice lingerie. She barely had any friends, and that prostitute of all people seems to be kinder to her than any person in her circle besides her sister. Soojung still had some mistrusting about Vicky but was clearly embracing her partner-by-accident.

Vicky was the first to leave the room; the two were backstage. Loud rap music played in the club's background. Vicky was truly an intimidating presence. Her tall and skinny frame got even better when she put her high heels on and prepared herself for another performance.

You were already sitting at the strip club watching the opening performances, throwing a couple dollar bills for the girls trying to make it, until the announcement that you were looking for was made.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're proud to present another performance of the great Vicky Jang," the announcer said at the speakers. Vicky slowly climbed upstage, her high heels making loud sounds. She looked at you in the eye, took off the jacket she was wearing, and started her performance, flaunting her long legs as she made moves around the pole in the center of the stage.

Vicky's long legs were always a highlight of her performances. She sat on the floor and started spreading them in front of you. Her pussy was enticigly close, within reach of your hands. You started dropping the first dollar bills, but Vicky ignored them and just kept performing. Truly a pro, once she's onstage all she cares about is hitting her moves perfectly, and she was pulling one heck of a pole dancing before leaving closer to you as you put more bills on the stage.

Vicky's performance quickly turned into a solo show for you as she got on her knees and touched herself right in front of you. She leaned her head in your direction, showing her tall body for you, who nearly touched her mid-performance. More moves with her legs, and she climbed offstage, circling around you and then covering your eyes with her hands, before whispering some words in your ear.

"I know today is your wife's birthday, but the gift will be yours tonight," she told you.

Vicky uncovered your eyes, and a different blonde girl appeared on your sight. "Her name is Krystal," Vicky said to you. She gave you quite the welcome, pointing her high heels straight to your heart before climbing off the stage and sitting on your lap. You touched her butt and sensed the fishnets she was wearing, very reminiscent of the ones you had just gifted your wife.

Krystal and Vicky danced together on stage. It was the first time Krystal was performing at a strip club, but Vicky could tell she had some good stage presence, wondering if she had done any kind of performance before, as unlikely as it sounded for a typical housewife. Vicky climbed up the pole and went upside down, while Krystal went on all fours seducing you, before Vicky decided to pull a killer move.

Climbing down the pole, Vicky moved in your direction and wrapped her long legs around your face. You could feel the amazing smell coming out of her pussy. She was just the most beautiful woman in the world. You felt a little guilty but couldn't help but think of leaving your wife and marrying Vicky on some uninhabited island and living there with her forever.

Krystal massaged you from behind as you watched Vicky before making a move and sitting on your lap, shoving you in Vicky's direction right at the angle where the stripper's pussy touched your forehead.

Now things were going to heat up. Krystal unbuttoned your shirt, and the two started moving like crazy towards you. Both girls are ready to take on you at any second. Your heartbeat fastened like crazy. The girls took a couple pieces off their lingeries, and Krystal pushed Vicky towards your lap, where she started grinding on you. Krystal herself started grinding on Vicky and kissing the young stripper; she was so beautiful she couldn't help herself. Vicky truly activated some of her woman-loving instincts.

Krystal took the money you had left onstage and placed it on her fishnets. Her and Vicky headed backstage, plotting their next move. "He's on his knees already; it's time to attack," Vicky told your wife.

Vicky sent her friend Elizabeth to extract as much money as possible from you. "He wants to pay an extra thousand dollars to continue the session," Liz reported to her. "Not enough," Vicky responded. "Now he's offering two thousand," Liz said after another check. "We want more," Vicky answered. Krystal was truly impressed at how Vicky could easily fleece any guy; she was truly that girl.

"Five thousand," Liz then said. "Done deal," Vicky said, going back to you with Krystal. "Here's the money," you told Vicky, offering her the $5,000. "It's five thousand for her too," she said, pointing to Krystal. You were recluctant, but you just couldn't say no to Vicky. "Okay," you answered as the money was flying out of your pocket. Krystal was smiling, enjoining the way Vicky had you on your knees.

The girls began moving, kissing you as they sat around your lap; both took turns grinding on your lap as the three of you shared kisses, including some torried triple kisses. Krystal gave Vicky's butt a little spanking as the young prostitute was making out with you. The two then had a few intimate moments with each other as both of you kept tapping Vicky's butt before you couldn't resist and decided to join them again.

Krystal's bra nearly fell off as you moved more aggressively, before she decided to take it off and put up a show, making out with Vicky. "You wanna join us?" she asked. "Yes," you answered. "Then pay some more," she replied, quickly learning the teachings of Vicky.

Krystal spread Vicky's long legs and started eating the young girl's pussy. Vicky moaned softly as you kissed her and watched your wife dive in her pussy. "Eat that pussy, please," you told Krystal. As she was getting eaten out, Vicky reached into your clothed pants and caressed your cock. Krystal truly had a nice, plump ass, very fuckable, something you missed doing as Vicky had never allowed you in her ass and your wife hadn't done that in ages.

You took your cock off your pants, letting Vicky jerk it off as Krystal kept eating Vicky's pussy. Krystal quickly took notice of it and joined the young hooker. "It's so nice," she said. "We can suck it for some extra money," she continued, and you soon obliged to her demand.

Before Krystal could suck your cock, you dove into her already bare tits, sniffing and sucking them. For some reason, they reminded you of your wife, who was most likely sleeping at the moment, as the clock had already hit way past midnight. You kept kissing Krystal's tits and sucking them like a baby, prompting Vicky to also have some fun and take her bra off, allowing Krystal to grab your cock all by herself while Vicky's little tits entertained you.

Krystal sucked your cock, and you were already groaning. "Oh god," you said. You had been cheating on your wife for years and had yet to find a girl that sucked cock better than her, but now you had two, Krystal and Vicky, after searching for so long. "Damn, she's so good at this," you said to Vicky in between kisses.

"Yes, she's a longtime veteran of sucking the biggest cocks," Vicky said, praising Krystal before taking her turn on your cock herself. "You really stepped your game up after I praised your friend," you told her as Vicky made sure to give you a top-notch blowjob while Krystal had fun counting all those money bills you were leaving on their table.

"Oh fuck yes," you groaned as Vicky was hitting all the right spots. Krystal looked at her and got why that young girl had you on your knees. She was really good at that. Grabbing your balls, she added to the cock torture you had to endure, giggling as you tried to resist.

Krystal snatched your cock from Vicky's mouth and took some extra sucking of it, both girls fighting hard for that big shaft now but also cooperating a lot as Krystal handed your cock to Vicky multiple times for her to suck and bob her head all over it. "FUCK, FUCK," it was all you could scream as these two succubus drained your soul.

You laid your head on the sofa as you felt weaker than ever, while Krystal kept stroking your cock harder than ever. Vicky came in as you helped take her panties off while Krystal was devouring your dick like a demon. Vicky sat on your face as you sniffed her pussy, trying to cope with the increased pressure Krystal put on your shaft, the two kissing each other as they loved dominating you.

Vicky moaned hard as your tongue hit her folds. Krystal just kept doing what she was doing, engaging in countless deepthroats that were driving you insane. She then pushed Vicky's head against your cock, bobbing it on it as you two were now performing a 69. You pushed your hips upwards, attempting to fuck Vicky's face with the strength you had left, while savoring her pretty young pussy.

Krystal was in full control of your cock, stroking it as your tongue started to make Vicky cum; she loved the way the young girl moaned, inserting herself with some kisses between it, while never losing sight of your cock. Vicky collected some money while you turned your attention to Krystal, pulling her panties down and ripping her fishnets under Vicky's watch.

Vicky's seized the opportunity and licked Krystal's asshole. Her anus had long been a forbidden area for any stimulation, but maybe things were just being done wrong because Vicky's tongue made Krystal feel a sensation she hadn't felt in over a decade. Maybe she could open an exception for today because there was truly no bad thing Vicky could do; she was truly very skilled at eating any kind of ass.

"Ohhh fuck," Krystal moaned as Vicky kept eating her ass while strocking your cock. She nearly lost her breath as Vicky awoke her long, dormant anal folds. "AHHHHHHHH, FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK," she screamed as Vicky kept going, forcing her to turn around just not to have an anal orgasm.

Vicky showcased her talents, challenging Krystal as the two girls fought for your cock. "I want more; give me more," you told them as both licked your tip. "You want more?" Vicky asked. "Yes, I want everything; take all my money and give me everything," you answered.

"Alright baby," Krystal says, opening her legs and ripping the remnants of her fishnets as you slowly inserted your cock in her pussy. "OHHHHH, my fucking..." she moaned, unable to finish the sentence as you and Vicky teamed up and started licking her nipples. Krystal slowly bounced, getting louder and louder. It was the same cock she had been bounced on for years, to mixed results, but something about Vicky had truly awakened the beast inside her; that girl was truly incredible.

Vicky massaged Krystal's pussy as she kept bouncing it on your cock. Krystal kept moaning hard, overstimulated in a way she hadn't felt in years. "Don't stop, don't stop," you told her. And indeed, Krystal didn't stop, riding your cock faster as she slowly regained a long-lost confidence. Vicky was always by her side, helping her feel the most possible pleasure as her hands kept working on Krystal's cunt.

"Come here," you told Krystal, making her wig and mask nearly fall off and almost ruining her disguise. But she stayed put and took the maximum pleasure possible from your cock. Krystal kissed you and let you pound her in a pearly gates position, wondering why you had never tried it with her in bed. "Does he only try those kinds of positions on prostitutes?" she thought.

"JESUS CHRIST, AHHHHHHH," Krystal screamed as the teamwork between your cock and Vicky's hand put her closer to a huge orgasm. "AHHHHHHHHH, FUCKKKKKK," she kept screaming. "Come on, slut, bounce on that," you dared her. Krystal accepted the challenge and did just that. "YES, YES, YES, YES," Krystal kept moaning. It was the same cock that had fucked her for years, but Vicky's presence in that room had turned things in a way she could never expect.

Krystal explodes in a massive orgasm as she closes her legs and coats your cock full of juices. "Come eat that pussy from my dick," you invite her, but Krystal is so out of breath it's Vicky who takes the prize all by herself. Krystal instead makes a rather unusual decision, licking Vicky's ass, trying to counter pleasure with some disgust.

But damn, she was very wrong.

As Krystal's dive into Vicky's ass, a beautiful scent of roses penetrates her nostrils. "Wtf is that? Assholes are supposed to be dirty," she thinks. But Vicky is nothing like the regulars; she's a truly special girl.

Vicky keeps sucking your cock as Krystal shoves her ass in your face for her to eat her asshole out. What started as some rare moment had truly turned into a kink. You obviously happily took it; after all, if your wife never lets you eat her ass but a prostitute happily does it, then good for you.

"Seems like you really want to sit on that dick the way you're sucking it," you tell Vicky. "Of course," she answers, staying with it in her mouth all the time. Shortly after, Vicky sits her tight young cunt in your cock.

"Let me see, let me see." Vicky is already begging for your cock as she adjusts it into her entrance. "Wow, that's so hot," Krystal tells her as they kiss each other. Vicky lets out a soft moan as Krystal licks her neck, beginning her bounce on your cock.

"That's right, use that cock," you tell Vicky as she starts riding that dick. Her slow ride is like poetry in motion, her hitting the perfect spots on your cock while sharing kisses with Krystal under the lights of the strip club.

"Yeah, yeah, come on, keep going," you tell Vicky as she increases her pace, her riding getting sexier and sexier, while she keeps kissing Krystal at all moments. Krystal then drops down, kissing you and letting Vicky ride your cock all by herself, her moans getting louder and echoing all around the club.

Vicky now bounces really fast, prompting you to thrust upwards to meet her bounces. "Yeahhhh," she moans. "Twerk that ass on my cock," you tell her, and she does it perfectly, with an amazing pace that drives you nuts, Krystal looking at her eye to eye and getting quite impressed by her riding skills despite Vicky being very young.

"OH YES YES YES YES YES YES," Vicky says in a fast way that is nearly in sync with her bounces. She giggles, stretching her long arms into your torso and making sideways moves that get your cock throbbing even harder, before beding herself in the direction of Krystal's pussy and eating it out, allowing you to push up her cunt while she eats Krystal's.

"I love this; give me the taste of it, you way, letting Vicky ride you while she eats Krystal, and then kisses you to taste Krystal's amazing ice cream-flavored pussy while never ceasing to bounce up and down that big cock. "Come on, come on," you encourage Vicky as she rides you like a baddie.

Vicky is truly amazing and is exactly her energy that brings the best from you and Krystal; her licks in the other stripper's pussy making her moan hard and putting her on the verge of cumming; her bouncing on your cock making you feel blessed to have such an amazing girl to please you.

"AHHHHHH, AHHHHHHH, OHHHHHH," Krystal starts moaning as she pushes Vicky's face into her cunt, ready to explode at any second. Despite being buried on it, Vicky remains calm and collected, keeping a steady pace as she pleases your cock. "That's it, baby, come earn your reward and suck that dick," you tell her, leaving Krystal by herself to enjoy her moaning orgasms while Vicky tastes her cherry-flavored pussy from your cock.

But Krystal doesn't want you to give your whole attention to the young stripper, sitting on your face as she gives her pussy for you to eat out. The two girls now battle to see which one you like the most, but you just enjoy the ride and let them duel without giving them any clues over who's winning.

Both girls show why they are such great professionals, Vicky bobbing her head hard on your cock while Krystal grinds her folds on your face at a great pace. There isn't a second you don't go without being overwhelmed by these two beauties, panting and moaning all the time trying to survive.

"Licky my balls," you order to Vicky while Krystal jumps on top of you, takes your shaft in her mouth, and performs a 69. "Yeah, yeah, like that," you tell them, the girls sucking the soul out of you like a pair of crazy succubus. "This is so good; I feel so lucky having two girls fighting for my fucking cock," you tell them.

Krystal gets on her knees on the couch, allowing you to put your cock back in her pussy. Vicky gets by her side, and they kiss each other. "OH GOD," Krystal moans as you push your cock hard into her pussy without any breaks, grabbing her waist to take her at a fast pace, as she clings to Vicky to take the pounding you give her, but not without lots of moaning. Vicky kisses you and leaves Krystal all by herself, screaming. "AHHHH, AHHHHHH, YEAHHHHH, YEAHHHH," she says, her eyes rolling as you spank her butt.

As Krystal quickly gets out breath, Vicky quickly takes her pace, getting fucked similarly, but she's the one that advances into Krystal as you take your cock deep inside her, kissing the other strip in perfect sync with your thrusts, slowly lowering her head to eat Krystal out, giving amazing orgasms to her and making her moan all over the couch, as Krystal closes her eyes and her nipples get more and more erected while Vicky buries her face in her cunt.

Vicky looks at Krystal while you pump her hard, making the other stripper cum while her pussy gets stretched out. Krystal gets on top of Vicky's butt and licks get pussy as you keep fucking her, taking a couple turns to lube your cock with Krystal's mouth. "Lick that asshole while I fuck her pussy," you tell Krystal, who obliges and slowly starts falling in love with the taste of Vicky's butthole.

"Good girl, now suck it and clean that cock," you tell Krystal. "Look at you, such a beautiful and fuckable ass," you tell Vicky as you spank her butt and keep fucking her, kissing Krystal in a way that makes you remind of your wife. You then grab Vicky's hair. "Come here," you tell her, pushing her face into Krystal as they keep kissing each other and fucking her like an animal, making her cheeks clap hard and her legs work hard.

"Come back," you tell Krystal, letting her bounce on your cock while Vicky suck her fellow stripper's tits. "OHHHHH," Krystal moans loudly but accepts the challenge of bouncing on your big cock, even if it quickly leaves her getting out of breath. You put her body on the floor, switching to a piledriver position that allows for very deep penetration. "OHHHHH, OHHHHH, OHHHH JESUS CHRIST," Krystal screams as she is now upside down, you and Vicky looking from above at a very dominating spot while her back gets pressed to the floor at each pounding you give her.

"Let me work that fucking pussy, you slut," you tell Krystal. Vicky comes in, and Krystal learns about her magic hands. "OH FUCKKKKK!" she screams as soon as Vicky places her hands on her clit. You end up having mercy for Krystal, as she can barely stand a couple minutes in that position, switching your attention back to Vicky for another round of bouncing.

Krystal rims your asshole trying to get back on her senses after such a crazy pounding, while Vicky entertains herself using your cock as her playground. Krystal looks from above, amazed and trying to understand how such a young girl can be such a pro at dickriding, taking your big cock like nothing and pulverizing it as she impales herself on it. She looks at her cheeks and just watches your cock disappear between them, licking your balls as her admiration for Vicky only grows.

"FUCK, FUCK," you say as Vicky once again pushes you to the edge. You instincively spank her ass, but it amounts to nothing; Vicky just devours your cock, and her ride only gets more insane. "OH SHIT!" you scream as one of her bounces gets close to snapping your cock in half.

In the end, you have to shove Vicky to the side just not to cum, turning your eyes back into Krystal. "That's way too much," you tell Vicky, who just laughs. Krystal chimes in and sucks your cock, getting to know better of the cherry-like flavors of Vicky's pussy.

"Let me see you lick that pussy," you tell Krystal as she gets on her knees and eats Vicky out while you jerk off to the scene. Vicky opens her mouth wide and moans, enjoying the way Krystal attacks her folds. You really like the curves of Krystal's body and her well-shaped butt, enhanced as she's in primed position to get taken from behind.

"I love the way you lick that pussy," you tell Krystal. "YEAHHHH, YEAHHHHH," a trembling Vicky screams as Krystal keeps licking her. "Look at her face, so slutty, she is really enjoying it," you say. Your words encourage Krystal, who pushes further and dives her fingers into Vicky's wet fuckhole, thrusting them as if she had a strap attached to herself and pounding the young prostitute until her hands are completely covered of Vicky's juices.

"Don't hide her face; I wanna see her moans," you tell Krystal, who gets back down and dives back to eat Vicky out. You watch both and increase the pace of your masturbation, getting closer and closer to cumming. You can't resist the urge of Krystal's fuckholes staring at you and pushing your cock back in her pussy, fucking her as hard as you can and burying her face all the way down Vicky's vagina.

"Open your legs, Vicky, let me watch her lick your pussy," you command as you increase the pace against Krystal. The heat of her tightening cunt gets you even closer, as both girls are now moaning messes ready to explode at any second. Vicky stretches her feet as you lick them while pounding Krystal hard and making her beg for god, giving her hard spanks in her butt.

You push Krystal to the side and decide to lead Vicky to an orgasm yourself. "AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHHH," she screams as if a baby is being expelled from her womb. As if this wasn't enough, you take your cock back in her pussy and pound it. Vicky just opens her legs and moans, Krystal coming from behind and stroking your shaft as you pound Vicky hard.

"Come on, come on, come on, suck it," you use Krystal's mouth as you lube your cock to fuck Vicky. Krystal jumps over and kisses the young stripper, and then you enjoy the animalesque way you two have sex. You switch back to Krystal, opening her legs and groping her tits, her clinging to Vicky not to let out loud moans as her nipples get even more erect. Very out of breath, her walls clench around your cock, forcing you to hold back, not to cum.

"Get down," you tell them, actually showing where you want to cum, jerking off your cock until you bust right at Krystal's face. Her face painted white while she swapped your sperm in her mouth with Vicky, and then taking your money home was the last thing you remembered before someone came from behind and knocked you uncounciously.

As you regain your sight, you find yourself blindfolded and unable to move your body. Your hands and legs are tied up to a chair. "Help me, help me, please," you say. "Please," you keep going. You can hear a pair of lips touching each other and kissing; wonder who is beside you. A pair of hands take your tie off.

"Show me, take control of him," a girl's voice says. Shortly after, you get smacked in the face, still blindfolded. "That's so funny," the woman who slapped you says. "Who's in charge now? Not you. Who's the boss? Not you," the woman says. "I'm so sick of your cheating ways," she continues.

You can recognize your wife, Mrs. Soojung's voice, but who's the other girl beside her? Why are they doing this? "Ohhh, baby, don't cry," Soojung tells you, enjoying the punishment she gives you. I guess that's what she wants for her birthday—punishing you after finding out you were with two girls at a strip club.

Soojung keeps giggling as she slowly starts taking your shirt off. Both girls massage your torso and spank it. The other girl rubs her little tits against you, making you wonder if you hadn't touched them yet; they surely feel familiar. "Tell us how nice they are," Soojung yells at you, as she also shoves hers down your mouth for you to lick before spanking you again for daring to do so.

"You're all yours; come with us," Soojung tells you as she keeps spanking your torso. The other girl films you as you stay tied to the chair. "I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you like a demon; punish you for cheating on me with those prostitutes," Soojung keeps saying. "Kiss her," the other girl demands as Soojung pushes you closer to her lips before spitting in your mouth.

Both girls kiss each other in front of you. "Kiss my ass, you worthless cheater," Soojung demands, and you oblige, kissing the clothed fabric that covers her butt. Soojung starts grinding on your lap, making your erection start to build up again. "Enjoy it and appreciate her," the other girl tells you. Soojung reaches with her hands, rubbing your cock while her tits rub against your torso.

"Don't you want this? Filming a fucking sex tape with your wife on her birthday?" the other girl asks, pointing the camera she's holding towards Soojung and you making out. You giggle, thinking it is indeed quite hot. "I've been waiting to do this for a long time," Soojung tells you. "But you never said that before," you reply to her.

Soojung pulls your pants down. "Look at how hot she is; oh wait, you can't see her," the other girl pranks you. Your cock comes up already throbbing from your underwear, with Soojung's fellow partner in crime coming to suck it first, giving you a sexy blowjob that also doesn't feel unfamiliar to you, but you, dumb as a rock, can't recognize where it comes from. Soojung then takes her turn, bobbing her head hard on your cock without using her hands.

"Perfect, lick it like an ice cream," the other girl says as Soojung savors the tip of your cock. She closes her eyes and enjoys every second of it while the other girl keeps filming it. "Tell her how good she sucks your cock," the girl demands of you, just as Soojung pulls of a crazy deepthroat.

"Do you love that?" the other girl asks. "Of course," you tell them. "I didn't hear it, louder," the other girl tells you, bobbing Soojung's head against your cock. "I love it," you answer just as the other girl now massages your balls and tries to edge you to the fullest.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you groan as the other girl takes your cock deep in her warm mouth. Her dick sucking lips push your cock to the limit, you having to push as hard as you can just not to cum at the spot. "You know it feels good, doesn't it?" Soojung asks. "I don't think I'll be able to resist," you tell her. "Poor boy," she replies, giggling.

The other girl finally takes your blindfold, and you recognize her at the spot, even though her blonde wig she usually wears is not there but rather her natural brunette hair. "Vicky?" you say shorlty after looking at your wife and wondering how she found out. "Wait, that stripper, Krystal, was you all along?" you ask your wife.

"Such a dumb boy, isn't he?" Soojung laughs as she asks Vicky. "Also, you can call her by her real name now, Jang Wonyoung, while you can call me Krystal now; since you had so many encounters with her, it seemed like she was your wife and I was your prostitute," a mad Soojung tells you.

Krystal deepthroats you again, showing she wasn't being out of character when she did it multiple times at that strip club. Wonyoung had made Krystal discover her long-lost potential of being a slut, and now she was going to unleash it to the fullest, like the angry wife that she was. Wonyoung spat on your dick and kept making Krystal push harder and harder, your wife answering every single call from that baddie slut.

Wonyoung and Krystal team up to suck the tip of your cock, making you have flashbacks from your time at the strip club, their tongues sending you over the moon as they run all over your veiny cock, giggling and enjoying edging you as hard as they can while kissing each other. Krystal then gets on all fours and lets Wonyoung lick her asshole while trash talking you. "Her tongue is so amazing in my ass. Why can you be as good as her licking my ass?" she asks.

Krystal moans loudly as she dives to suck your cock further while Wonyoung keeps licking her ass. As you three engage in that oral train, for the first time in years, Krystal thinks of having your cock inside her ass, given the amazing work Wonyoung's tongue is doing with it and making her desire for further anal stimulation, despite her longtime reluctance.

"A cunt massaging another," Krystal says as Wonyoung reaches lower and puts her fingers in your wife's pussy. "You got it right, I'm a cunt, and your husband is a massive asshole," Wonyoung replies. The chemistry between her and Krystal is unmatched; the two hardly have met each other, but Krystal loves how Wonyoung is able to pick the perfect spots in her body and stimulate her better than you ever could over all these years.

More and more, Krystal opens herself up for Wonyoung's touch, letting the young girl eat her out wonderfully. Krystal always enjoyed those kinds of lesbian fantasies but rarely let other girls eat her out, with a few exceptions such as her sister or Amber, which are very much part of her innermost circle. But that unknown girl was doing such wonders to her body that she didn't hesitate, letting Wonyoung's tongue run wild over her clit and make it squirt in front of you.

"Are you enjoying the show, baby?" Krystal asks you. "Look how sexy her tongue looks licking my beautiful pussy," she continues, praising Wonyoung at any chance she gets. "I think I'll become a lesbian; her tongue is so much better in my pussy than your cock," she continues, keeping the trash taking going. "And you can't do anything to stop it, baby, all tied up and just watching my cunt squirt all over her pretty face," Krystal continues.

"OH FUCK YES, YES, YES, DON'T YOU FUCKING STOP," Krystal moans as Wonyoung does her magic with her tongue, putting your wife on the verge of cumming and gushing all over her face while you can just watch. "AH, AH, AH, AH," Krystal moans loudly in a way that she hadn't done to you in a while. "You know what? I think she earned a reward," she says.

Krystal takes Wonyoung's panties off and dives to eat her pussy. She gets marveled at Wonyoung's incredible taste, quickly getting addicted the deeper she takes her tongue in the young girl's cunt. Wonyoung looks at you and sees you're jerking off to the scene. "You love watching it, slave," she tells you. The girls are soon scissoring each other and moaning very loud, leaving you in awe as their juices get the wooden floor incresingly slippery.

Krystal finger-fucks Wonyoung's cunt and teases her. "Do you want my husband's cock fucking you like that?" your wife asks her. "YES, PLEASE, DON'T STOP, EAT MY PUSSY LIKE THE FUCKING BITCH I AM," Wonyoung answers screaming, loving the quick but soft touch Krystal's fingers provide. Your wife goes crazier and crazier, putting Wonyoung's body on your lap while she eats her out and making your cock rub against the young girl's soft skin.

"Tell him where my tongue is," Krystal asks Wonyoung. "In my ass, I love it," Wonyoung says. Slowly but surely Krystal was opening up to kinks that she used to refuse, all because Wonyoung was so incredible she felt wrong for not using her to the fullest, getting enamored by the young girl and treating her like an it girl of sex.

Wonyoung shakes her ass cheeks as Krystal dives her tongue between them. It was what your wife needed to be fully convinced. She starts spanking the young girl's butt and gets more and more in love with it, shoving her middle finger up Wonyoung's anus just to hear her beautiful moans, and then pulling out to taste it. "Damn, this is the tastiest butthole I've ever seen," she says. "You know what it deserves for tasting so good? To sit on my husband's dirty fucking cock," she continues.

As soon as she gets Krystal's authorization, Wonyoung climbs on your lap, taking your cock up her ass in one go. The loud moan she lets out makes Krystal believe she won't be able to take it, just like she hasn't in many years. But that's not the case; far from it.

"OH FUCK!" Wonyoung screams as your massive cock impales her ass, but she's determined to bounce as fast as she can. Krystal watches her as a mix of both a motherly figure and a curious woman learning from a young slut. She can't resist and grabs Wonyoung's cheeks, pushing your cock deeper and faster up her tight asshole. Wonyoung moans are loud, but her determination to take your cock trumps everything else.

"FUCK IT, FUCK IT, FUCK IT!" Krystal screams as she spanks Wonyoung's butt, but the more she does it, the harder Wonyoung rides it. Maybe it's her young age; maybe she does it every night, but what a crazy rider Wonyoung is. Krystal had caught a glimpse of it at the strip club, but that was with her pussy; it turned out she could do both holes with ease and destroy any cock that goes inside of them with extreme ease.

"I wanna taste it," Krystal says, pulling your cock out and savoring the best flavor she had ever tasted from it. Good lord, how does Wonyoung's ass smell so good? Your wife was truly impressed; no wonder you were so addicted to cheating on her with that Vicky girl.

"I love how you enjoy tasting my asshole," Wonyoung tells Krystal as she resumes bouncing on your dick. Krystal now just watches; you're getting very sweaty as the young girl puts you on the edge. Krystal frees you from the chair, allowing you to carry-fuck Wonyoung while she licks your balls under both of you. "I FUCKING LOVE IT, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," Wonyoung screams.

"OH, OH, OH, OH OH, FUCK, YES, YES, YES," Wonyoung moans as she starts orgasming. You put her on the couch and keep fucking her ass under a mating press while she grabs a sex toy and uses it to stimulate Krystal's own butthole, before Krystal takes it by herself and creams herself watching you fuck Wonyoung on the couch, but feeling a little jealous as it seems like your escapades with the long-legged girl have allowed you to build some quite good chemistry with her.

Krystal squirts herself as you choke Wonyoung before coming in to sit on the pretty girl's face, offering her pussy as a relief to the poundings you give her. "Can I taste more of it?" Krystal asks you, who obliges, but a little mad you're forced to pull out of Wonyoung's tight asshole, unleashing your fury against your wife's throat and pounding it relentlessly, way faster than you did to Wonyoung's ass.

Krystal gets really slutty, taking the poundings in her throat like a champ and licking your cock every time you take a break. Wonyoung eater her pussydown low, making your wife feel in heaven as you treat her like your bitch and clean your cock in her face. "More, more, more," Krystal demands, as just like the more she spanked Wonyoung, the faster she went, the faster you fuck her throat, the more she wants you to keep going.

Krystal finishes the facefucking session spitting on your cock and letting Wonyoung handle it for a bit as she lets you fuck her face and slap your cock against it, but not for long. "Put your cock in my fucking pussy right now," an intimidating Krystal orders, leading you to bring your fun with Wonyoung to an instant halt.

"YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," Krystal screams as you pound her pussy while she's on top of the couch. Wonyoung adds extra stimulation, grabbing the toy Krystal was entertaining herself with and shoving up your wife's anus. "Keep going, baby, fuck that pussy, such a dirty fucking boy, aren't you? Going from her asshole straight to my cunt," she says.

You and Wonyoung compete to see who can fuck Krystal the fastest. Either way, both of you know she's gonna cum at any moment, so it's a win-win situation; you can claim it was your cock that gave her pussy an orgasm, and Wonyoung can claim she gave Krystal an anal orgasm with the sex toy. "Stuff both those fucking holes," Krystal demands from both of you as she receives a triple kiss.

"FUCK THAT PUSSY, FUCK HER HARDER," Krystal gives the command to you, who keeps pushing. It clearly seems your cock is losing the battle to Wonyoung's sex toy, so you just decide to put an end to it, pushing Krystal down the couch and obliterating her cunt like she was some hentai character that only existed to be a fuckhole. Wonyoung helps you by sitting on your wife's face and squirting all over Krystal's mouth, letting you use her wife as much as you can while her moans get muffled by the young girl's ass.

As you pick up the pace you pound Krystal's used-up cunt, you enjoy how much your cock bulges under her magnificent abs. It was a view that you loved every time you fucked her, but that had gotten rarer and rarer, but the sexy passionate missionary position you fucked her cunt in that couch was perfect for it to pop out again, with you toying with Krystal's insides and poking your cock in different angles at each thrust you gave her, particularly enjoying the ones that landed with the tip of your cock right at her belly button.

You pound Krystal like a fucktoy, watching her moans grow louder and louder and unable to get silenced under Wonyoung's ass. That's how it's supposed to be. She was probably finally telling you to go easy on her, like she did many times over those years, but this time you couldn't listen, so the louder she moaned, the harder you abused her cunt. But boy, you were really wrong.

"FUCK HER HARDER," Krystal says as she frees her mouth from Wonyoung's grinding pussy just for a second. Damn, when did your wife turn into such a slut?, you ask yourself, but after gathering your thoughts, fuck Krystal just like she wants it: hard, fast, strong.

"Let's make her fucking pussy cum," Wonyoung says, stretching her long arms right into Krystal's pussy. You follow suit, and both of you massage your wife's clit. Krystal starts growling before she announces. "I'M FUCKING CUMMING," Krystal says. "Then cum for me," Wonyoung replies, grabbing Krystal's beautiful face and kissing it just as Krystal lets out a massive geyser of squirt out of her cunt that surprises you, and so does Wonyoung, proud of the work her hands did on Krystal.

Krystal slides down the couch, her body rubbing against Wonyoung's as she reaches an orgasm that leaves her shaking on the floor. In spite of that, you just keep pounding her like she's just a sex doll built to give you the maximum pleasure. You push Krystal's body back up the couch, closing her legs by bringing them together and resuming fucking her pussy while Wonyoung puts her big hands in your wife's clit, you two doing the perfect teamwork to give Krystal the most shaking orgasms known to mankind. Her body trembles from head to toe, but you two just don't stop.

"Make that pussy cum, make that pussy cum," Wonyoung commands as you stay fucking Krystal. The young girl brings her massive Hitachi vibrator and puts it right in your hands to massage Krystal's increasingly throbbing clit, while letting your wife's moans echo through her tight pussy as she gets back to sitting on Krystal's face.

"USE THOSE TWO MAGIC WANDS TO MAKE ME FUCKING CUM AS HARD AS I CAN, FUCKKKK." Krystal screams as her face turns red, and she's nothing but a host of intense orgasms that would make the weakest girls beg for mercy. But Krystal isn't like other girls; she's a legend, an it girl, and they are built different; they are once-in-a-generation girls that can perform the most mind-blowing sex known to men.

"DON'T STOP, JUST FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," Krystal begs. "Fuck her harder; look how much she wants it," Wonyoung orders to you. "Give me that cunt," Krystal says, pushing the young girl's pussy against her face to cope with the heat your cock and the Hitachi provide against her own's. "You fucking love that, don't you?" Wonyoung brags.

"OH MY GOD, THAT'S SO FUCKING GOOD YESSSSSSSSSS," Krystal says as she explodes in another orgasm just as you give her ass another spank. She says a bunch of unrecognizable words, just having enough forces to stick her tongue out as if she had taken a massive electric shock, while Wonyoung grinds her pussy in her face. Her eyes only see a red light, her teeth ache, and the four walls of her pussy clench to unbelievable levels of tightness.

An exausted Krystal finishes her orgasm, but she still has strength to deliver the next order. "Fuck her pussy," she says in a commanding voice, pushing you to spread Wonyoung's long legs and take the plunge against her tight walls again. "You know what? Fuck her ass, fuck any of her holes," Krystal adds, grabbing the Hitachi and putting it in her clit just as she sits on the couch right above Wonyoung's pretty face.

"Squirt all over my face; cover it with your juices," Wonyoung tells Krystal with a smile as your cock finds her way into her pussy. You choke the young girl and treat her like your next toy, all under your wife's watch, the juices coming out of Krystal's pussy telling if you succeeded or failed in the quest she gave you.

"You're such a good boy; look at how much you love fucking my tight pussy," Wonyoung says as you two are now face to face. "OHHHHH FUCKKKKK," Wonyoung moans as you give her long legs some slapping. Krystal stays fixated, masturbating herself to the scene, showing her approval as her cold juices leak out of her cunt and land on Wonyoung's body, making the youngest moan again.

"Open your mouth, open your fucking mouth," Krystal orders as she delivers another squirt shower in Wonyoung right at it. You go harder, wishing for your wife to pull out another squirt show like that. But Krystal had different plans.

Krystal flips Wonyoung around and pushes the young girl's butt upwards. "Fuck my ass," Wonyoung commands, doing exactly what Krystal intended her to do; these two have indeed great chemistry. With just one leg on the ground, Wonyoung takes your anal pounding, while Krystal sucks her perky tits and spits on her face. "Fucking slut, you can't resist my husband's cock, can't you?" Krystal asks.

Wonyoung can't even answer, as Krystal just shoved her hands to massage the young girl's cunt while you fucked her ass. Every time you take a break from fucking her butt, Krystal comes in to bob her head on your cock, confirming her addition from Wonyoung's tasty butthole now runs rampant. " is all she can say. Every time you take a break from fucking her butt, Krystal comes in to bob her head on your cock, confirming her addition from Wonyoung's tasty butthole now runs rampant. As you keep fucking Wonyoung, Krystal, let's the young girl use her sex toy in her own ass.

"Fuck me, please fuck me, AHHHHHH," Wonyoung screams while Krystal herself moans hard with the Hitachi and the sex toy plugged in her holes. Your balls smash Wonyoung's throbbing clit as you take turns between her ass and pussy now. Krystal plugs a larger dildo on Wonyoung's mouth and connects it with her own pussy as both of you turn the young girl into the source of all of your pleasures. "Dirty little fucking bitch," Krystal says about Wonyoung as you shove her face into Krystal's pussy while fucking hers even faster, Krystal incorporating the jealous wife character to the fullest and spitting on Wonyoung multiple times.

Wonyoung and Krystal cum together as your cock and the dildo provide the pleasure they need, both sharing the ends of it in their mouths. But then you come with a surprise.

You put Krystal on all fours and tell her something you hadn't done in years. "I'm gonna fuck this ass," you say, spanking her butt. "If you shoved a couple toys on it, you can take my cock too," you continue. But to your surprise, Krystal this time gives you a very different answer.

"Yes, yes, please fuck my ass," she tells you. Watching you fuck Wonyoung's butt really turned her on. It's been nearly 7 years since she last took a cock in her ass, but now she's finally ready.

You shove your cock in Krystal's ass at the same time Wonyoung shoves the dildo in her pussy. "Fuck yes," Krystal moans, the prospect of getting double-stuffed by a cock and a dildo being very enticing to her. Wonyoung uses her spit to make both instruments slide easier into Krystal fuckholes. "YES, PLEASE, YES, FUCK ME," Krystal begs as she turns into an ultrawhore. "That's so fucking hot," Wonyoung says.

Krystal is all smiles as your cock pounds her ass. Maybe it's Wonyoung's presence, but her fears regarding anal sex seem to be completely gone. "That cock is so fucking good in my ass," she tells you. Wonyoung takes the dildo out, giving you free reign to pound your wife's tight asshole. "FUCK IT, FUCK IT, FUCK IT," Krystal begs as Wonyoung adds more spit and massages your wife's cunt, making her scream very loud in a way that can be heard way beyond the four walls of your house.

"Make her fucking cum, fucking make her cum," Wonyoung says, switching the order of a few words. Indeed, you do just that, making Krystal explode with her first anal orgasm in nearly a decade. "YES, YES, YES, MORE, MORE, MORE, FUCK ME HARDER, FUCK THAT ASS, DESTROY IT, PLEASE," she screams as Wonyoung spanks her butt and licks her anus at the same time your cock obliterates it. "FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM AGAIN," Kyrstal says as she squirts all over the couch.

"Let's clean this cock together," Krystal orders to Wonyoung, eager to have a taste of her own asshole after so many years. And damn, she had forgotten how good she tasted. "Wow, it's better than mine," Wonyoung says, complimenting your wife. The two it girls with good-smelling anuses polish your knob to the fullest, each girl licking one side of your shaft while taking turns to dive balls deep down your erection from time to time.

Krystal proves to be a kind wife, pushing Wonyoung to get her face fucked and taste more of your wife's perfect asshole. "You taste so amazing," Wonyoung says again as your balls get engulfed in her mouth and your cock impales it like a massive sword, Krystal making sure to push it harder until she makes Wonyoung gag.

"Looks like you like my asshole a lot, you fucking cunt," Krystal says. "Now how about my cunt, since you're also one?" she continues. "Wanna taste my cream-filled pussy?" she asks Wonyoung. "Of course," the young girl answers.

"Come here, both of you, please me," Krystal orders, getting herself on all fours and pushing your cock back in her pussy while she shoves Wonyoung's ass in her face to get turned on by the smell of her butthole. You take your wife's cunt hard from the start, her walls clenching further as Wonyoung's smell invades her nostrils. You spank Krystal's butt and drive her away from Wonyoung's ass, but no problem; she just stretches her hands right into the young girl's cunt.

Krystal gets her cunt hammered like it hasn't been in a while, you using her pussy as a jerkoff hole, you two trading spankings between butts, you on Krystal, her on Wonyoung. "Eat my ass," Wonyoung demands, Krystal getting double the pleasure once again.

"This is the hardest you can fuck me? Come on," Krystal says, daring you to push the pace even further. You do it just like that, attacking her pussycat at full speed. "Fuck me harder, give it to me," Krystal keeps pushing, her cheeks getting clapped hard at your increasingly fast thrusts.

You go full animalesque on Krystal, grabbing her hair and pushing her body onto the couch, prone-boning her as her face lands on Wonyoung's butt and uses it as a pillow, absorbing the crazy poundings you give her. She gets used like a fleshlight, and you are not caring how used up her pussy will be after it or whether she can walk afterwards; all you wanna do is destroy your slutty wife like she never had the chance for you to do before.

"Take his fucking cock, take his fucking cock," Wonyoung demands as Krystal gets absolutely destroyed. "AH, AH, AH, AH," it's all Krystal is able to scream, and soon her screams are joined by yours.

"FUCK FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," you say. Seconds afterward, you fill your wife's pussy to the brim. Krystal remembers she's not on the pill, but it's too late. Your birthday gift to her will most likely be a baby. But in the end, she actually enjoys it, digging it to feed Wonyoung and thank her.

"Thanks, Ms. Jang; without you, this wasn't possible," Krystal tells the young girl. "I'm thankful too, Mrs. Soojung," Wonyoung replies. "You can call me anytime; by the way, you can just call me Wonyoung; I prefer it that way," she says, leaving.

The next day you wake up, it seems like finally your marriage with Mrs. Soojung will be restored back to the early days, until you receive devastating news from your wife's mouth.

"I'm filing for divorce," she says.

"Why?" you ask her.

"Do you really need to ask?" Krystal replies.

"But we had a great night tonight," you tell her.

"Not really, you only tried because of that Vicky girl, without her, all you can give me is very boring and vanilla sex," Krystal says.

"I promise to do better," you tell her.

"Empty promises, well, things will be easy for me; Vicky recorded everything we did last night in that room," Krystal says.

"Damn, this was all a trap, wasn't it?" you say.

"Dumb boy, like always, I just wanted to use you and take revenge for your cheating antics," Krystal replies.

Indeed, Krystal already had a new partner for herself.

"Hi," she said as Wonyoung opened the door. Truly an ending like the ones that happen in those rich lesbian fanfictions; they lived happily ever after together.

Well, not without some bumps.

A few days later, Krystal went to the bathroom feeling very nauseating, with Wonyoung coming to the rescue for her unwell partner.

"I think I'm pregnant," Krystal says.

#krystal smut #wonyoung smut #f(x) smut #ive smut #izone smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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heavenbarnes · 6 months ago

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The way olderbf!simon and reader met is so cute even if it’s cliche, because I don’t see that man interacting with anyone unless he’s forced to lmao. If you’re up to it, could you maybe do a drabble on how the beginning/talking stage of their relationship goes? This man probs has to rehearse what he’s going to say 25 times (literally me) and still fumbles over his words but reader is still just 😍 yes this is the man I’m going to marry

they definitely needed a meet cute to me cause honestly? where are their paths ever going to cross without manual intervention? 🫶🏼

after you get that “it’s simon” text from older bf!simon it’s you that actually has to make the first move.

that’s not to say he doesn’t text you or anything, god when doesn’t he text you?

at all odd hours and just about anything-

“at the supermarket”

“what you watching? i’m watching top gear”

“what’s your favourite colour?”

“i’m at the gym”

you were a little confused at first by how abrupt and to-the-point his messages could be.

and then you remembered that this was the same guy who prefers a grunt to the common conversation, he probably thought he was doing great.

so when you were getting in your own head about why he hadn’t asked you out yet, you also remembered that this was the same guy who thought he could fuck up a cappuccino.

he was probably- scared?

whatever it was, you realised if you wanted to see him as bad as you did, you were going to have to pony up and ask yourself.

“did you want to maybe get dinner sometime?”

he called you.

no sooner had the ‘seen’ shown up, he was calling you.

“uh, hello? simon?”

“are y’forreal?”

excuse me?

if anyone else had asked you that question you probably would’ve scoffed and hung up.

he was lucky he was so hunky.

and subtly insecure.

“yes, i’d like to get dinner with you”

he paused, a quiet moment passing between the two of you with only a little shuffling in the background of his line.

and a little shouting in the distance.

was he on base?

“yes please”

you’d been a little distracted trying to pick any little bits of information you could (more than just his favourite colour, it’s green by the way) that you didn’t get his response.

instead, you hummed a little ‘huh?’

“i’d like t’get dinner with’ya, yes please”

“oh- great, i can text you some details?”

“yeah, i’d like that”

you weren’t really sure how to end the call or why he’d even called in the first place- but he wrapped it up with a few mumbles.

“jus’ wanted to hear y’say it, wanted t’make sure”

he shows up at dinner without a mask on and you’re sure you’re staring up at him like he’s made of moonlight but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

fuck he’s handsome.

and broad, the buttoned shirt he’s wearing just stretches over his arms where he’s rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

borderline pornographic.

you try to shut your own mind up, realising all the man’s done is open the restaurant door for you and you’re literally have salacious thoughts about him.

have some decorum!

he pulls out your seat for you but insists on sitting with his back to a wall and a line of sight to the door. you don’t mind, it means the light behind him virtually makes him glow.

fuck he’s handsome.

his voice is so deep you have to lean in on the table to hear him and all it means is you can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of him.

when he locks eyes with the waiter he does a subtle little flick of his fingers and the man’s heading right for him- he really exudes an air of dominance.

if you don’t marry this man you might die.

he asks you a lot of questions and seems genuinely surprised when you ask ‘and you?’ after every one.

surprised that somebody would care.

he answers with an endearing honesty and you feel all the better for knowing he prefers tea to coffee and starts his day with a cold shower.

his hand fidgets on the table part way through dessert and you have to ask what’s wrong.

“y’got a little somethin’ there”

he gestures to the corner of his mouth. it isn’t lost on you that his fingers immediately go back to flexing around the table cloth.

your hand doesn’t even move to wipe your mouth, your eyes soften just a little as you speak instead.

“you can get it if you want?”

his heart all but stops.

big hand rising to your face, fingers cupping your jaw as his thumb wipes the smudge of cream from the corner of your mouth.

he brings his thumb to your mouth when your tongue peeks out to lick the tip of it.

simon’s knee hits the underside of the table.

and you giggle.

fuck he’s handsome.

reluctantly, he lowers his hand but leaves it on your side of the table so you can hold it. his skin feels rough but he thinks it’s never been softer than when you’re holding it.

you both opt to walk home (hand still in hand) and you’ve never felt safer. you spend the entire walk talking about nothing and everything and you could scream when you end up at your front door.

it does allow you both to linger, neither one of you wanting to call it a night quite yet.

simon seems good at lingering, at yearning, at putting off what he doesn’t and does want.

so, like you were the one to make the first move-

you’re the one to make the second.

(his tongue feels great on yours)

you go to bed alone that night and it makes the most sense but it also fucking sucks because you know-

you know what you want.

and what you want is currently walking home beneath streetlights with the biggest smile he’s had this side of enlistment.

you accept the fact you’ll need to take things slow, that he obviously needs time and a lot of reassurance and you’d hate to push him too far with your own desire and-

and your phone buzzes.

“coffee tomorrow morning?”

“yes please”

the talking stage really doesn’t last long.

not when you’re kicking your feet in bed and hugging your phone to your chest.

not when johnny texts simon asking how the date went and he’s responding ‘not bad, might be in love’

talking stage doesn’t last long but everything else does.

it’s simply a doorway into a long and happy life.

#god he’s so lovely #HE IS SO LOVELY I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOUR #older bf!simon #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.

König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.

Evolve, or die.

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.”

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.

The Lieutenant is one of them.

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.

Your finger slams into the trigger.

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König.

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.

Anyone but you, that is.

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”

He freezes, muscles going taunt.

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.

König kneeled to you and bared himself.

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.

You find none.

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.

For you to come back to him. His partner.

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.��

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