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bbyg4rl · 15 hours ago

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Home Is Where the Heart Is

cw: queer/bisexual!jj x fem!reader, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, second chances, slight smut, eventual fluff, identity crisis, bisexual self-discovery, heartbreak, infidelity (emotional and implied physical), alcohol use, self-destructive behavior, and emotionally intense conversations, mentions of casual sex and rejection, as well as complex queer experiences and interpersonal conflict and mentions of jjpope attraction.

wc: 3.6k words.

summary: jj loved you, but when questions about who he is start being asked, your relationship begins to fracture. a breakup, a name whispered in the dark, and a spiral of self-discovery send him searching for something he can't quite name. but identity isn’t a destination—it’s a reckoning. and home, might still be waiting where it all began. inspired by the elvis presley song “Home Is Where the Heart Is.”

You always knew something was different about JJ.

Not in a bad way. Just—different.

It was in the way his eyes lingered.

At first, you couldn’t place it. A flash of something across his face when a guy stretched beside him, arms up, shirt lifting or a quiet pause when a guy passed by in a tight shirt or a good pair of jeans. It wasn’t every guy. But it wasn’t no guy, either.

You notice it easily enough.

You were lying on the beach next to him, sun beating down on both of you, when Pope walks past, shirtless, shorts sitting low on his hips, laughing at something John B said. JJ turns his head. Not fast. Not slow either. Just… long enough.

You watch his eyes trail him for a second too long. You don't say anything, not at first.

You joke about it the next night, tangled in bed. You kiss the side of his neck and tease, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were checking Pope out yesterday.”

“What the hell?”

“You stared,” you say with a laugh. “Like full-on, 'slow-motion coming-of-age movie' stared.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a tightness to the smirk he flashes you. “Babe, if I ever fall for Pope, just shoot me.” He ruffles your hair, bites your shoulder playfully and changes the subject.

You let it slide, but you don’t miss the flush on his cheeks.

And he doesn’t miss the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes or the tinge of jealousy that pricks your heart.

The thing about self-discovery is that it’s rarely loud.

It starts with JJ lying awake the following nights, eyes on the ceiling. Your breath warm against his shoulder.

He thinks about what you said. About Pope.

Not because he meant anything by it. He loves you, more than he can ever explain. But JJ starts acting different. Less touchy. Less present. He doesn’t talk about it. But you can feel the guilt in his silence.

It festers after that.

JJ remembers things he buried. He remembers being thirteen, sweaty and nervous in the locker room, pretending to be annoyed about showers while sneaking glances at the way the boys undressed, how their muscles curved under skin. Told himself it was just comparison. Curiosity.

Remembers being sixteen, at a party. When a guy leaned in to whisper something. Breath warm on JJ’s jaw. He didn’t lean away. Didn’t lean in either. Just felt his heart hammer against the inside of his ribs for no reason he could admit.

And now?

Now, it’s Pope.

It’s not that he wants to be with Pope. Not exactly. But he wants something about him. The way he’s steady. How he thinks. His hands. His laugh.

He loves you. He knows he does. But it feels like something is cracking open inside of him, and he doesn’t know how to stop the flood.

So instead, he tries to shut the dam tighter.

JJ’s always had a way of compartmentalizing.

Things hurt? Bury it.

Feel something? Drink through it.

Don’t know who you are? Pretend harder.

But now he can’t unsee what he saw in himself when he looked at Pope, he’s not even looking at his body anymore—it’s worse than that, he’s watching the way Pope thinks before he speaks. How he defends what he believes. How he moves, how he is.

But he lets the thoughts pass like they never meant anything.

Because if it didn’t mean anything, he didn’t have to name it.

But now, in the warmth of a real relationship, your relationship, those buried truths begin to hum louder. The safe house he built with you suddenly feels like a spotlight.

You ask him if something’s wrong.

He tells you no.

You kiss him and he kisses you back like muscle memory.

You hold him and he holds on tightly, silently.

A few weeks later, It’s late, the room dim except for the orange glow of your bedside lamp. He’s kissing you now. Deep, hot, a little desperate. You think maybe this is the moment he finally lets go of whatever’s been weighing him down. Maybe tonight, he comes back to you.

His hands skim your waist, your hips, your thighs. You’re breathless and wanting.

But you see it in his eyes. They’re too open. Watching. Not like he used to, not like he’s savoring, but like he’s trying to convince himself he’s here.

You roll your hips against his, trying to pull him back into the moment. He groans.

“JJ,” you murmur against his lips.

“I’m here.” His hands grip tighter. “I’m with you,” he pants, cock nudging your soaked entrance. He thrusts up hard, the stretch making you gasp and arch. Your body bouncing with every stroke, your jaw slack, But JJ wasn’t done talking.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me,” JJ murmurs, his voice low and honeyed in your ear. His hand is braced beside your head, the other trailing down to your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist. And for a moment you think you have him back.

This is your JJ.

Your thighs lock around his waist, your clit twitching against his happy trail. “J-JJ, so good…” your voice breaks, head lolling back against the pillow as your orgasm creeps in closer to you. Your fingers are curled tight in his hair, knuckles white and trembling, your walls clenching tight around his cock.

“Fuck… Pope—” JJ’s voice drops instantly, so soft, so soothing, like straggling snow that falls on fire.

You freeze.

The air leaves your lungs so fast it makes you dizzy. JJ opens his eyes. His face goes pale. “No. No, no, no— I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean—”

You shuffle away from under him, slowly, pulling the sheet around your body like it’s armour.

He sits up, looking wrecked. “Babe, I swear—”

“You said his name.” Your voice is even. “Not mine. Not by accident.”

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking. “It just slipped, I wasn’t thinking, I—God, I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“You said his name,” you say quietly. “While you were inside me.”

JJ stares at you, eyes wide and glassy. And then, cracks open. “I love you.”

His mouth opens. Closes. Then, “I think I’m bisexual,” he says, and it almost breaks him to get it out. “I think I’ve always known. I just didn’t want it to be real. I thought if I just stayed with you and made this work and ignored everything else, it would go away. That I could be… normal.”

You let the silence fill the space. And then you ask, softly, “Do you think I wouldn’t have loved you anyway?”

His breath catches. “I didn’t want to make you deal with that.”

You look at him. Really look at him, and you see the boy you’ve always loved. The one who held your hand through panic attacks and left notes in your jacket pockets. The one who’s terrified of being anything other than what people expect. The one unraveling in front of you, finally telling the truth.

You reach for his face. He flinches. But you take it anyway.

“You being bisexual isn’t the betrayal,” you say. “It’s the hiding. It’s the lying. It’s the part where you told yourself you had to choose between being yourself and being with me.”

He cries then. Real, silent tears. Head bowed. “I didn’t choose to leave you,” he says. “I never wanted to.”

“But you did,” you whisper. “You were gone long before tonight.”

And then you press your lips to his temple. Not with anger. Not with spite. With grief. With love. With acceptance.

“You can be whole and still choose me. But only if it’s honest. And right now… you need to be whole before you can choose anyone. You need to figure out who you are without me being your safety net. Go be free,” you whisper. “Go be honest.”

He tries to speak, but you’re already gone.

And he lets you walk away.

One Month Later

He unravels in slow, quiet spirals—like smoke slipping out of a cracked window. After the night with you, everything breaks. He kisses Pope a week later.

It’s awkward. Hesitant. Kind of electric. But Pope pulls back, brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve an equation with no solution.

“JJ…” he starts. And that’s enough.

He knows. He knows Pope is straight. And kind. And loyal. And he says he’s flattered and he’s here for him, but—no. Not like that. Not like you.

But JJ’s chest aches. Even with the kindness Pope shows him, even with that quiet respect, it stings. Because there was a version of this where maybe someone wanted him back. Wanted all of him. But it’s not this version.

So he goes back to the world. To parties. To hookups.

The first boy he kisses tastes like mint gum and cheap beer, and JJ lets him take him apart in a way that’s foreign but not unwelcome.

He tells himself he’s free now, stops being careful, leans into the blur. He’s free to figure it all out. Free to sleep with guys, girls. Kiss whoever he wants. Chase that part of himself that always lingered in locker rooms, half-curious, half-ashamed. He can finally explore it. That’s what you told him to do.

And at first, it feels good.

Guys with strong hands. Girls with sharp eyes. Loud clubs and sweat-slick skin and blackout nights that end with unfamiliar ceilings and muffled goodbyes.

He hooks up with guys more and more. Convinced, somehow, that if he immerses himself in this, he’ll finally feel right. Valid. Queer enough. Not a fraud.

He thinks if he does it enough, the hunger will quiet. The grief will go away. But it only gets louder. Because he’s not looking for heat. He’s looking for warmth. For you.

And it’s never there.

He texts you a few times.

“Hey.” “You still have that hoodie of mine?” “I drove past your place. Looks like you painted the porch.”

“Do you still think of me?” unsent “Can we talk?” unsent “I miss you.” unsent

He unsends a few before they even reach you, shame creeping into his nail beds as he types out words for you. But it doesn't matter. You never reply.

JJ doesn’t know when missing you became his full-time job. He keeps himself busy. Surfing until his arms shake. Driving until he forgets where he’s going. Parties. Drinks. Makes jokes he doesn’t mean. Flirting that doesn’t lead anywhere… until it does.

Until it has to.

Until he leaves some guy’s apartment with a dull ache in his chest. The guy was nice. Soft voice. Pretty eyes. The kind of guy JJ should have wanted to stay with.

Instead, JJ had fumbled for his jeans and said something about needing air, barely back on his bike before guilt lodged itself in his throat again. He speeds to the chateau, sinks down on the porch outside, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

Rain starts to fall, cold. Light. It feels like the world is trying to wash him clean but doesn’t know where to start. He starts to cry.

It’s not pretty, not cinematic. Just raw. Wet cheeks and clenched fists and the kind of sob that rips through your chest like it’s been hiding for years.

He cries because he misses you. Because he’s tired. Because he finally found the part of himself he buried, and it still didn’t make him whole.

He doesn’t hear Pope’s footsteps.

Just feels someone sitting down next to him. Quietly. Like they’ve done it before. “JJ?” Pope says softly. “You good?”

JJ laughs without humor. “Do I look good?”

Pope’s silent for a beat. “No. You look like shit.”

JJ exhales through a shaky smile. “Nice.”

They sit there for a moment, rain pattering around them like background noise to a scene neither of them knows how to start. JJ finally says, “I don’t get it, man. I like guys. I know that now. That part’s real.”

He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, voice cracking. “But no matter how many of them I sleep with, I still feel like half my body is stuck somewhere else. Like I left my heart behind and it’s still waiting in her hands.”

Pope stays quiet, letting him talk.

“I thought maybe I was just confused before. That if I kept doing this, I’d get answers. But it’s like—I’m chasing something I can’t reach. I want to stop missing her, but I can’t. I love her. I loved her when I didn’t even know who I was.”

He looks up at Pope now, eyes red. “So what the fuck does that make me?”

Pope is quiet for a long moment. Then he says, “It makes you human, JJ.”

JJ swallows hard. “I think I thought I had to pick a side,” he admits. “Like… if I stayed with her, I wasn’t queer enough. And if I left, I was erasing her.”

“You don’t have to pick,” Pope says, gentle but firm. “You just have to be honest—with yourself. With her. That’s what matters.”

JJ looks down at his hands. They're shaking.

“She made me feel… safe. Before I even knew what I was scared of.”

Pope nudges him with his shoulder. “Then maybe, she’s where you stop running. Maybe, she’s where home is.”

Three Months Later

He gets a job. Just a part-time thing at a marina. Not glamorous, not noble. But it keeps his hands busy, and that counts for something. He’s still the JJ everyone knows, loud, fast, golden. But there’s a new kind of restraint in him now. Like he’s learning not to flinch at his own reflection.

He starts biking past your street again.

Once, he sees you from across the road, talking to someone by your front gate. You laugh, tipping your head back, hair caught in the wind. He grips his handlebar so tight it creaks. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want you to see him like this—half-formed, still healing.

He wants to be someone worthy again.

Not for you. For himself. And then for you.

Weeks pass. He sobers up. Not all at once. It’s messy. He still drinks sometimes, still fights the urge to run. But he’s clawing his way back.

It’s pouring when he sees you again.

You’re huddled under the awning of a grocery shop, hugging your hands to your chest as thunder rolls across the sky. He’s soaked to the bone in a red flannel shirt, carrying a bottle of mayonnaise and a packet of sandwich bread.

You both freeze when you lock eyes.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet, so low you almost don’t hear it.

You glance sideways, lips pressed. “Hi.”

For a few long seconds, all that passes is rain and breath. And then, “You look... rough,” you say.

JJ huffs a laugh. “I feel rough.”

You arch a brow, pointing to the mayonnaise in his hand. “You sober?”

He nods. “Fourty-four days.”

He continues after a beat, “Still forgetting your raincoat, I see.”

Your lips quirk up in a smile. “You too, I see.”

He inches toward the pole beside you and leans against it, careful not to touch you. The silence stretches, but not in that awkward, sharp way. It just hangs, like it would between two old friends who have way too much left unsaid to even know where to start.

Finally, he speaks. “I’ve been trying to feel everything.”

You smile and nod.

“I slept with guys,” he says, plain and honest. “Girls too. And I kept thinking that maybe if I chased that part of me, I’d find peace. Or clarity. Or whatever. But I was just… hollow.”

Your throat tightens.

“I thought figuring myself out meant letting you go,” he admits. “Like you couldn’t exist in the same space as that truth. But now I realize—It’s always been real. You knew that before I did.”

You don’t trust yourself enough to not cry so you say nothing.

“I didn’t leave you to be bi,” he continues, voice thick. “And I don’t need to prove I’m bi by not choosing you. Because loving you… that was always the part I was sure of.”

You meet his eyes, and it’s quiet again. Then, softly, you speak, “I’m still in love with you, you know.”

JJ swallows. Nods.

“I never stopped.” you add.

“Me neither.”

You both fall silent again. The confession hangs heavily in the damp air. When the rain finally lets up, he takes off his flannel, still damp, and holds it out to you.

You shake your head. “It’s soaked.”

“Still warmer than nothing.”

You hesitate. Then take it. Neither of you says anything as you walk back to your place. Side by side. Hands not quite touching.

Six Months Later

He doesn’t come back with grand gestures.

No flowers. No speeches. Just a knock on your door one soft morning, when the sky is overcast and the breeze smells like salt and clarity.

You open it to find him standing there, hands in his pockets, cleaner than you’ve seen him in months. His eyes are clear. His shirt smells like laundry soap. No trace of alcohol, no dark circles.

“Hey,” he says.

You let him inside.

He doesn’t ask for anything that day. Just sits on your porch while you water your plants, talking about small things — how Pope got into another program, how Kie is producing music, how he’s helping John B and Sarah fix up the chateau.

Later that week, he drops by with groceries. The week after, it’s a book he found that he thought you’d like.

A month in, he offers to fix the shelves that have been crooked since forever. It’s all little things. Slow things. Human things.

And in between it all, you talk.

About what it felt like to be kids growing up on an island that didn’t know how to hold soft boys.

About locker rooms and stupid parties and the first boy who ever looked at him too long.

About shame.

About the feeling of kissing someone and still thinking of someone else.

And finally, about you.

“You weren’t a phase,” he tells you one evening, leaning against the edge of your kitchen island, voice steady. “You weren’t a distraction from who I am. You are who I am. And I didn’t realize I could be queer and still be yours.”

You sit beside him.

“I kept telling myself I had to pick a side. That being bi meant I was confused, or greedy, or hiding something. But being with you wasn’t hiding anything. It was the first time I ever felt like I could be anything.”

You feel a lump in your throat. “JJ…”

He cups your face. “I know I hurt you. I know I made you doubt yourself. But you never made me doubt me. You were the only thing that felt right the whole time.”

Silence hums.

“Do you want to try again?” he asks. Eyes suddenly unable to hold contact with yours.

“Even if people assume you’re straight again? Even if no one sees that part of you?”

JJ nods. “It’s still mine. It’s still real. And it’s still part of me.”

You close the distance, pressing your forehead to his.

“You moaned Pope’s name, JJ.”

He groans into a soft laugh, holding your waist. “God, don’t remind me.”

“I will never not remind you.” you chuckle.

“Fair.”

You pause, then look up.

“You sure you want to do this?”

He cups your face gently. “I’ve never been more sure.”

You kiss him, slow and deep. And when his tongue dances eith your own, it tastes like new beginnings.

Three Years Later

It’s quieter now. JJ wakes up before the sun does, sometimes.

The morning air is soft, touched with the scent of sea salt and lemon soap. You’re curled against his chest, one leg tangled with his, your fingers loosely gripping the hem of his worn t-shirt. He doesn’t move—not yet. He just stares at the ceiling for a while, listens to the sleepy breath that puffs against his collarbone. Lets himself feel it.

Peace.

Not the wild, erratic kind he used to chase in bottle bottoms or bare skin. The kind that lives in small things. Steady hands. Long shadows. The smell of coffee in the next room.

He’s building furniture now. Real shit. Commissions, sometimes. Tables, dressers, even a baby crib once. He sanded it down for hours until it was smooth enough for a newborn’s cheek. You’d watched from the doorway and said he looked like someone’s husband. He’d kissed you with sawdust on his lips.

And maybe he is someone’s husband now. Almost. There’s no ring yet, but there’s a quiet promise in the way you laugh at his bad jokes and let him warm his cold hands under your shirt in winter. In the way he lights up when you walk into a room.

He never stopped being bi. He never shoved that part of himself away again. But it doesn’t ache anymore. It doesn’t feel like something he owes anyone a performance for. He knows now—he didn’t choose you instead of himself. He chose you with himself.

Sometimes he still talks to Pope about it. Not like a crisis, just conversations. Once, Pope had said, “It’s funny. You always looked at everyone like they were stars in the sky. But her? You looked at her like she was home.”

JJ had gone quiet then. Thought about it all night. Now, he watches you shift beside him, mumbling something half-asleep. Your hand slides up under his shirt on instinct, splaying across his ribs.

“Mm. Cold.”

He chuckles. “Good morning to you too.”

You squint one eye open. “Stop hogging the blanket”

“You don’t need a blanket, you got me.”

You roll onto your back and stretch, your fingers brushing the sunlight creeping in through the window. “We should go to the farmer’s market later.”

He nods. “You’ll want to stop by the jewellery stall.”

“You love that stall.”

“I love the girl who always drags me there.”

You grin. “She sounds smart.”

He leans in, nose brushing yours. “She’s everything.”

And maybe he didn’t know that before. Maybe it took heartbreak and rain and mess and losing himself a little to find his way back. But he knows now.

You were never just a chapter. You were the whole goddamn story. You were home. And he finally gets to live in it.

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rhettmotel · 2 days ago

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My dear friend, I do believe another thought has come through the door (lol).

You and Rhett have had one of the longest days of your lives. At least 15 calves decided to be born within hours of each other and Rhett had a ride later that night which left him a sore and aching mess.

You bring him home and immediately get him in a hot bath since the nights are getting colder. You're both in bed watching a fall movie, most likely Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride" or something like that and you're kissing all of Rhett's bruises, even the ones on his chest and the ones on his tummy. Even though it hurts like hell to laugh, Rhett still can't help but laugh when you do it (lol).

(Pls this was so cute to imagine, thanks for requesting, I hope you love it 🥰)

Watching Rhett wince and suck in air through his teeth as you helped him into the tub, you couldn’t help but chuckle. It was just a breath of air through your lips, but Rhett still heard it.

“You laughin’ at me sweetheart?” He asks, voice as gruff as ever, grunting softly as he lowers himself down into the steaming water.

“I’m not laughing at you, it’s just… I told you you shouldn’t have done that ride after the long day you had. I mean, you spent the day yanking baby calves out of their momma’s and now look at you, bruised to hell.” As you were talking, you stepped into the tub behind Rhett, wrapping your body around his.

Normally, it would be the other way around, Rhett would be sitting behind you and holding you in his arms, but every once in awhile, even though he would never admit it, Rhett needed that comfort too. “Yeah, but you know how to help with that so it’s fine,” He smiles, tipping his head back to look at you.

With a smile, you lean forward and press soft kisses to the bruises on his shoulders and the middle of his upper back. This time, he doesn’t wince outwardly but you can feel the muscles tighten and jump slightly under your lips, it causes them to slide into a slightly self indulgent smile.

When you both felt that Rhett was relaxed enough and the water was getting too cool, you helped him out, wrapping him in a towel before wrapping yourself in an identical one. He was still walking a bit gingerly to your shared room and then flopped down on the bed with a loud groan. You laugh softly, dropping your own towel to grab your laptop and crawl right in bed next to him.

You turn on the next movie in your line-up of introducing Rhett to the genius that is Tim Burton, but this time you just couldn’t stay focused on the screen. Now that you weren’t behind him, you could see the bruises that littered Rhett’s chest and even his stomach, you couldn’t help but lean over and kiss them.

Rhett gave you a curious look. “What are you doin’ down there, Darlin’?”

“I’m kissing your bruises better,” You grin, pressing your lips to a clear fresh bruise that was right in between his nipples.

Rhett laughs at that, but it was quick to dissolve into a wincing cough and then a deep groan. “Oh god, don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much.”

You sit up, giving a mock offended gasp. “My kisses hurt you? Well maybe this will feel better…” You smirk before leaning down and blowing a loud raspberry into his stomach.

Rhett laughs again, giving another pained groan, but his eyes were shining, and all of his teeth were showing in the grin he gave you, so maybe the pain wasn’t so bad after all.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fic #outer range #outer range fanfiction #outer range imagine

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callixton · 11 months ago

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i think the thing to understand abt martha jones is that even after she leaves she is five seconds away from dropping everything and traveling with the doctor at any given time. bc that itch to blow everything up and damn her personal duty to hell in search of a higher call never leaves her. but martha is smart. and rational. and has spent a long fucking time needing to keep herself safe. (bc he comes when she calls but never before.) and so she has gotten very good at keeping herself on the right side of those five seconds. but i do think if ten was a different person (if he could acknowledge how much he needed her instead of just how much he liked her) (if he didn’t feel this righteous martyrdom when it comes to being left alone) (if he cared enough about her to beg. if he cared enough about himself.) i think that her answer no would come crumbling down pretty quickly is all.

#MARTHA JONES’ TWISTED SENSE OF DUTY YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS TO ME #there is soo much nuance to this. obviously. and it really varies depending on when exactly in his run we’re talking #but me personally. i don’t think that martha was ever satisfied with the way things ended between them. i think she made peace with it!#but i don’t think she was satisfied and i don’t think she ever could be #which is also why i have slowly come around to her and mickey. even tho i think it IS very pair the spares in a way i don’t like #i do think they make sense together. in a genuine way and also in a you’re the closest i’ll get to what i want. you’re good on your own but #- you’re also the next best thing. and we don’t need to say this out loud bc we both know and it wouldn’t ruin anything by admitting it but #- it sure as hell wouldn’t feel good either #it’s not even like. directly about the doctor/rose here is the thing. it’s about the life he let them lead with him #which i guess is the crux of this. i think martha is capable of moving on from her Feelings for the doctor. but never her feelings about him #yknow. does that make sense. if anyone knows that the doctor is a symbol it’s martha #i don’t think she’s always in love with him. i think she was. tho my opinions on that r complicated hashtag tenmartha qpr BUT #but the IDEA of him? the idea which shaped her into a completely different person? i don’t think she will ever not want that back @ her core #she’s just too loyal to everyone besides herself to admit that. 😐#ok it’s 4 am i have been rambling abt this for fifteen minutes so sorry if it doesn’t make sense but i have FEELINGS ABT HER !!#ted talks #martha jones #doctor who

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spliqi · 16 days ago

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okay so after finishing chosen of the wolf my main takeaway is that all the women in noxus are lesbians and all the men are twinks. as any fearsome warmongering nation’s inhabitants should be

#just kidding i am in fact crazy and i need that animated series now more than ever #i really love love love mel’s portrayal as the forever pacifist sweetheart icon and ambessa’s foil.#just further proves the things Those people say about her are completely delusional #and god the twists with ambessa… the fact that she’d been wrong from the start and yet had no choice but to continue on her path regardless #because it was too late to turn back after all the damage she’d already done. +++ the part about her knowing she’d believe #she was making the right choice if she just repeated it to herself enough. GOD #when she killed [redacted] i fucking gasped out loud #and by the end even you as the reader—who’s been rooting for her from the start—are forced to admit she really isn’t the hero at all #she’s like if ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’ was a character. GOD AMBESSAAAAA

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tonycries · 6 months ago

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CHERRY-POP!

Synopsis. He’s losing more than his v!rginíty - he’s losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, vírgínity loss (JJK men), PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, first times, p talking, proposals, cervíx kíssing, matíng presses, GOJO’S POWERS, manhandIing (Nanami), overstím, rough, true form Sukuna, dp, making them whímper, spítting, chokíng, p sIapping, mentions of heirs, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Y’all asked and aIpha provided hehehe, also Ino girlies y’all are FED today <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Was a 10/10

“I-I’m really…damn. Damn.” Just about all that he can gasp. Toji’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs at the sheer tremors lacing his baritone voice, on the edge of shattering into a million pieces. He’s dragging a fat thumb where your teary slit was bulging. In awe. “Damn.”

And your honeyed giggles are enough to make him buck his rummaging length with a shuddering groan. Pumping you full of more solid, mindless inches. “S’that all you can hah- say, Toji?”

Hell, if Toji Fushiguro could coherently speak - if he could even think - then he’d already be waxing poetic about how your that sweltering hot heaven between your legs was driving him mad. Was having his life flashing before his very eyes-

How had he lived for so long without this?

You’re letting out a tiny gasp - only too-late does Toji’s melty mind realize that he’d pathetically babbled all that out loud.

Taking the lewd opportunity to punish your parted lips with a slow wad of his syrupy saliva, “D-doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two…”

God, if Toji hadn’t confessed to you just prior that he was a raging virgin then you would have laughed in his face right this very second.

Because he was acting like anything but.

His rock-hard cock was vicious, bullying right between your pretty pursed folds with inch after throbbing inch that scratches your sweet spots just right. Fuck- he couldn’t take his eyes off the sight. Slamming a hand down onto the rickety headboard to stop from jackhammering his fat cock over and over into you already.

“Y-you’re seriously…” he’s letting his voice peter out. Toji’s curling a few thick fingers around his hefty hilt, feeding your drooling hole more. More. “-seriously sucking th-the life outta me.”

He’s moving at such a sleazy pace, tracing one calloused thumb down your driveling lips, all soaked and sopping with your saturated juices. “Heh, not bad for a f-fucking virgin, huh?” Before popping it into your mouth for you to suck on like your favorite lolly. “C’mon- say somethin’, ma.”

“S-so slow, Toji-” you’re huffing and puffing in a way that makes him grunt, trembly legs falling further and further open by the second at the stretch. The way his large, bulbous tip was brushing against your very inner walls had you dizzy. “-give me more.”

“Wh-when I told ya to talk it wasn’t to talk with your hah- damn pussy, woman.”

And fuck.

Fuuuuck- Toji was more affected than he would like to admit.

Much, much more.

Because just the incoherent mess of jumbles falling from those pretty lips of yours had him throwing his head back with a moan. Big, beefy biceps flexing when he’s battering his rock-hard tip into your gooey depths. And shit-

He didn’t read about this online.

Never ever thought that the Toji Fushiguro would find his mean scar dropping with his jaw in raw, carnal shock when your pussy lips dribble a generous load of his own cum. Eyes veering to the very back of his head with he just barely manages to disguise as a regular one of his eyerolls.

Fuck- fuck did he cum already?

“D-did you-”

“Shut up. Holy shit-” A set of rugged fingers clasp bruisingly around your waist, another skating about midway up your tummy and pressing. Down hard. Now until your slobbering cunt was painting numerous creamy rings upon rings around Toji’s hefty hilt. “Damn, what a pussy you got on ya. Is yer cunt jus’ extra filthy, ma?”

You’re smacking his cushiony pecs at his words, whining, “Y-you’re so nasty–”

“Me?” His greedy green eyes widen, “Callin’ me nasty w-when your pussy is the one spillin’ all over me? Hngh- jus’ look at her, doll.”

There’s nothing else that you could look at - because Toji’s flexing arms were caging you into your cozy little cove. Dark brows marrying together in pure bliss when he’s dragging his cock out of your slippery cunt with a wet plop! Letting your puckered hole slide a drizzling coating of cum.

And then plugging you back in - and then again. In and out. In and out in and-

“And whose f-fault is that?”

“Hers.”

Even through your stupidly fucked mind you could catch the way that Toji’s voice was dipped in pure loving. A hypnotized grin leering all over his face - you could ask him to bring you the moon right now and he would.

Hunching his entire heaving body over to move back inside your snug walls mercilessly, he nips down your tender earlobe. Grunting, “Heh, I read ya nasty pussy would ngh- like this.”

And he’s seeping in a few fingers to swirl around the ounces of white that stained your bulging cunt, around and around until it was thoroughly coating his dripping wet fingers. Tracing just enough over your pulsing clit. And you thought he would bring it up for you to suck - you thought.

Before he’s placing them swiftly into his mouth and whining - yes, whining. The clingy grip of your softened walls had him so gone.

“P-pretend ya never fuckin’ heard that-” Toji’s snapping right before you can open your teasing mouth, and his high cheekbones color in the most innocent shade of rosy pink. Snarling, “-s’not m-my fault- it’s hers.”

Yeah, because your dripping cunt was way too much for a virgin to handle - it had him going mad.

It had him rummaging even deeper into your pliant cunt, tenderizing your poor g-spots into the perfect bullseyes that he just couldn’t miss. All the way to the base. Toji’s making the bed creak with each one of his ruts, sweat slicking down the middle of his curved spine at his staggering pace.

And he wasn’t even tired - not a single ounce. You think he’d be tired while buried in a blissful cunt like this?

Monstrous stamina pushing and pushing his weepy tip down in streaming slides across your sweet spots. Without a singular warning, his mountainous palms snatch your trembly legs up to throw them over his broad shoulders.

“Sh-shit, the stretch–” you’re mewling when he’s easily folding you in half like a lawnchair. Merciless. Snickering.

Absolutely no shred of regret or apology when he grins, “Y’know…I also read online about th-this thing called a…mating press.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - SWEETENER!

“Like this?”

And you’ve never heard your stoic boyfriend ever sound like this before - with his chest heaving in gasps, gluttonous eyes locked down on your arched back, lips wobbling like the very fate of the world depended entirely on the next few words to fall from your cockdrunken mouth.

Fuck- Nanami was so staggeringly massive that you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even jolt back to your senses until he’s peppering a drool-worthy trail of kisses down your spine. Echoing, strained. “Never done this before- I-is this okay, my love?”

“Yes! Hngh-” you’re managing to blink back the pearly tears welling up in your eyes. “Y-you can start to move, Kento.”

He’s placing a few more innocent pecks by the corner of your mouth before doing so, and just one singular movement - a singular inch inside your pretty cunt - had Nanami Kento hypnotized.

Breath hitching.

You’re almost concerned when the first smooching thrust right into your awaiting g-spot had his muscled thighs shivering. Honeypool eyes wide, cheeks flushed, ruined. Frantically scrambling to clasp his thick fingers around your tender throat, Nanami heaves out a groan and pulls.

Feeding you the uncharacteristically ruthless inches of his furious cock, you’re being hauled about halfway down the velvety bed as if you’re some kind of doll. Pumped stupidly full of his fat girth, you’re not sure if that thunderous throb! throb! throb! was from his angry cock or from you.

Head so light, “Ken–”

“Wh-what- oh…” Immediately, Nanami’s letting his hand drop from your neck as if it burned, sorrowfully kissing near those faint bruises. “I’m so sorry, my love- I didn’t realize. I won’t-”

“No no, baby–” Craning your head around to stop his stern mouth from ranting any further, you give him a smug smirk that you can feel the effects of. Feeling his sopping wet twitch into your bruised spots in a gloopy wave of scorching precum. “-I like it.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You shouldn’t have said that - fuck, you shouldn’t have said a word. Because that’s all it takes for Nanami to smack his sharp hip bones into you like he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

And if the first tentative thrust into your cunt was magic - then this. Fuck, this was a miracle in real life.

Your cunt is so talkative with him - slurring out a few saturated sploshes every time he’s pumping your gummy depths full of himself.

Pummelling with very pound, and if you didn’t know any better then you would have thought that Nanami was fucking you like he hated you. Sloppy. Addicted. You’re feeling the slosh of his sticky pre inside you with every shuddering rut.

Languidly licking up the overwhelmed tears in your eyes, “M-m’sorry, darling I…” Interrupted by a syrupy hug of your walls like clingfilm, he was spearing open your insides so good. Molding himself into every nook and cranny inside you. Virginity be damned, he was having his fill for years. “-I can’t seem to stop. I-I just need-”

Words couldn’t even explain the sheer fucking heaven that Nanami was in right now. This was what you felt like? This?

And you’re not even sure if he’s in control when he’s pushing down on your shaky body with one of his thick palms, right until you’re splayed out like some slut on the king-sized mattress. Hiking up one thick thigh to pressurize his thwacking pushes even harder, and the other to press down on your head with his foot.

“Sh-shit you’re so deep, Ken–” your fingers thrash against the silken sheets at the even meaner angle. “I can feel you all the way-”

Right before you can finish your drawling sentence - almost as if Nanami didn’t want you to, couldn’t even handle the thought - his massive palm rummages from down under to glide down the thickened inflation where he was ruining you. Where he would feel the wet swipes of steaming hot precum being poured right into your womb. Where he could feel himself.

And he’s trying to reign back some control - to remember all the tips that he’d read in those books. But god was it difficult when Nanami’s rubbing his fat thumb against your clit and making you whine.

Over and over and-

“D-don’t run away–” Nanami’s voice cracks towards the very end - snapping you out of your lustful haze to realize that oh shit, you had been inching away. The stimulation so much. “M’yours- m’all yours. And I need you, my love, I need more-”

And right before you can correct your posture, knocking your hips in sodden glides down his swollen length; Nanami’s snatching his speckled yellow tie right off somewhere across the bed and wringing it around your wrists tightly. Pinning them together over your back before leveraging it with one curl of his fingers to drag you back into his erection.

Nanami’s breath hitches, head finding itself thrown backwards in an instant. He’s leaning further backwards to drink in the heavenly sight of your ass quavering against his hips, of the way his skin was reddening now.

“Th-theree we go, y-yer gonna take my fuckin’ cock. Aren’t you, my wife?”

You’re not sure what you’re gasping more at - the roughened lack of sanity in his words, or at the way he was calling you his wife. Again and again like a little mantra into the crook of your neck - all that he could say right now.

“Such a p-pretty cunt- n’ a pretty wife…” Hushed out beside your ears at a feverish pace. “Y-you have me addicted so, soo…” Addicted enough to not be able to finish his sentence. Nanami leaves a wet peck at your lips, and an even wetter smack! on your clit.

And when you cum, you’re seeing white.

Unsure of what’s even happening before Nanami’s fucking you through each peaking wave of your high, edging it deeper and deeper. You’re gasping at the feeling of his cock twitching vigorously inside. Harshly. Dangerously.

“K-keep those legs open, darling.” He’s crushing you to his brawny body so tight. “M’gonna haaah- make this sweet cunt overspill.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Good girl never cry.

Geto Suguru never saw himself like this - feeling so blissfully good.

He never saw himself with fucking tears beading at the very corners of his glassy eyes, his maw sagging animalistically open when his prespiration-slicked body glissades against yours. Yours. Shit- all he could think about was that clingy pussy of yours and you, you, you-

“Oh, what’s this?” Rumbling voice smooth against your ear, but all you can manage out is a pathetic few hahs! when Geto’s body never stops. His grueling hips don’t even slow down to let you catch your breath. “Heh, am I th-the one losing my virginity or are ngh- you, gorgeous?”

You’re huffing and puffing in a way that he can’t help but find so cute, feeling his lips curl up into a heady smile. “N-no need to be so mean, Sugu–”

“Tch.”

Without a split-second of hesitation - or so much as even a warning - he’s wrangling your legs over two broad shoulders. Biceps flexing when looping your two ankles around his flushed neck, pinning them together with a gruff, “Lock them.”

And it’s all you can manage to do when he’s folding down, down, down in half. Making your calves burn with sheer fatigue, your sloppy entrance stretches around the curve of Geto’s swollen cock. It was such a sight to behold - your succulent pussy lips drooling all down to his too-tight balls, talking back to him in the most slurping squelches with every jittery ram.

Geto can feel himself trailing a translucent line of drool already - embarrassing.

“Mhm—” Your entire body vibrates with his severe groans, nodding along with his sleazy eyes pointed downwards. And the angle helps him spit out in your slack mouth, snickering. “Th-think I like her better.”

Your jaw drops - and he’s taking this perfect chance to smush your mouth into an embarrassing pout with two fingers squishing your cheeks together. Lolling his head downwards to pry open your mouth and suck on your tongue.

“Hmpf! Then you can ngh- kiss ‘her’ instead-” Slow. Drooling. Such a filthy French kiss that Geto breaks with a wet smooch!

Pecking up your stubborn tears. How cute.

“Oh, I will…” Comes his answer, along with a few more thunking collisions into your rawly bruised g-spot as if he was reminding you just who you were dealing with - virgin or not. “You think j-jus’ because m’a hah- virgin, I don’t know how to handle such a s-sweet pussy?”

Maybe you nod, maybe you shake your head - you’re not even sure before Geto’s spitting out a wet wad of saliva that hits his ready digits with a wet thwack! Smearing right along your overly stuffed pussy, where he was funneling you so full of him.

Gruffing out, “First m’gonna f-fuck her until she’s ngh- overspilling. Gonna ruin her for a-anyone else-” Twirling his rude thumb in a wet grind on the hood of your plump kiss, he’s leaving a few wet swats. “Then m’gonna taste her- treat her a lil’ while she’s already ah dripping with me. And then…” Breath hitching while he’s crashing a kiss into you once more. “-m’gonna do it all over again.”

“How do you even-”

He’s babbling nonsense now - or maybe truths. “Y’have no idea how much I’ve ah- imagined this, gorgeous– kept thinkin’ of it every night.”

“R-really?” you gasp.

“Mhm– s-since the day I met ya. I’d imagine doin’ a little bit of hah-” Giving your mouth an innocent peck, “-this. Then some of-” Then a bite. “This.” And then the most slow drag of his hips down your walls, “And mostly this.”

God, he had half the mind to know that maybe you shouldn’t be hearing these. But Geto didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not when every drilling pound had him giddy, “Always wan’ed you to be all mine y’know- my lil’ cum dump, aren’t ya?”

You’re somehow muffling out - seeping through each labored breath. “Yes- yes yes yes- fuck- m’so close, Sugu- M’gonna-”

“Of course ya are.” He’s rolling his eyes, acting for all the world like his painfully swollen balls weren’t just aching to cum already. Hips getting sloppier and sloppier, as do his words. “She told me- h-hurry up already. Cum on my fuckin’ cock.”

And Geto thinks he tried to hold back how pathetically pussydrunken he was on your gorgeous cunt, he thinks he tried to do a good job of it.

Tried.

But as soon as your orgasm hits you at full force - oh, that’s when he’s allowing his eyes to mask over with a bleary veil of tears. Drip, drip, dripping down in hot splatters onto your skin- it feels so good.

And Geto bites down hard into the crook of your neck, muffling those rasping whimpers curdling at the back of his throat when he cums. When he feels his ears pop! lids flashing his vision with pure white.

“S-so much–” you’re mewling when he’s dumping out such voluminous ropes of seed. Thick, sticky, sloshing down in neverending rivulets. He’s fucking you through each and every one, mashing into your very g-spot- “There’s ah! S’overspilling, Suguru-”

Overspilling.

Oh, Geto would never admit it but he couldn’t even bear to turn his head downwards at the exact sight that you were talking about. No.

It was already embarrassing enough to tumble into his second orgasm just from your sentence. Pearly white canines digging into the mound of your flesh so hard that you think he might just draw blood. The muscles in Geto’s jaw ticks when his bawling divot pushes out another few sputtering smacks! of cum against your sweetest spots.

“Y-you…” he’s gasping out, barely even audible. And as soon as Geto’s raising his dampened face from the haven at your neck, you’re practically gasping at the fucked-out expression on his face. Eyes unfocused, skin a blotchy red, hair curtaining his face and making it almost impossible to tell where he was looking. “I really came…inside- hah- inside your pretty pussy.”

In awe.

Geto’s moving lazily - like he’s in a pool of molasses - when he dances a hand down to your beading cunt. Probing a few fingers back in to feed your parched pussy the remnants of excess cum. “C-can I- can I do it again?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “I-is this heaven?”

Choso didn’t mean to say that out loud - in fact, he’d probably rather die than actually babble it out to you.

But how could he not when you were smearing your syrupy sweet folds all open for him that way? Two of your fingers sliding between your legs with a purring, “Why dontcha find out, Cho–?”

It should’ve been embarrassing the way he’s tripping and stumbling over the expanse of the plush king-sized bed to loom dangerously closer to you. To softly guide your hand away with a nudge of his reddened, aching cock. Choso’s practically begging on his own two knees when he gasps- heaves, “I-I can put it inside?” Still in wonderment. He must be dreaming. Slurring up a sopping wet drag of his fat, ruby tip just to confirm. “C-can I really?”

“Mhm–” you’re nodding. “Careful not to hurt your-”

But you’re not given the privilege to finish your sentence. Hell, you’re not given the privilege to even finish taking in a deep inhale before all of it comes rushing back out in the most feverish gasp.

Hurtling out of your suddenly bowing body when you’re suddenly being so split-apart. Choso’s ambushing tip bullying your pussy lips wide agape, he’s fucking you so full with just the tiniest, mindless little gyrations of his flexible hips just to fit inside.

Because Choso might be a virgin - but with his staggering size, he didn’t even have to try to hit your earliest sweet spots.

“Move your hand, baby, I-I…”

That’s when you’re glimpsing at your poor boyfriend, who’s already so utterly wrecked. The very moment he’s slid into your snug cunt, it had him seeing stars. Bursts of pleasure exploding at his sensitive cock, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso’s grasping a hand around a few of his sweat-dampened locks and pulling to jolt himself back to reality.

When he blinks his teary eyes back open, you swear his pupils had turned into hearts. Whispering, “M’in love with you oh-”

Both of you are snapping downwards your heads in unison when something swelteringly hot floods your insides. Creamy and sloshing like treacle down your walls - all it took was once look up at Choso’s prettily burning blush to realize that he’d cum as soon as he put it in.

“Ch-Choso-”

“Shit- shit- m’sorry, baby–” he’s grunting out, hips moving by themselves in filthy little collisions that jerk you on the bed. He’s so surprisingly hands-on, fingers gliding up and down your arched back to massage all your tender spots. “I didn’t mean to c-cum so early- shit- m’sorry–”

It’s barely even possible to form a coherent though with the way he was fucking into you so sloppily. He can’t stop. He won’t. No rhythm or reason - just pure, primal need dripping from every plummet of his thickened cock into your gooey depths.

You’re prattling out softly, “It’s okay, baby.” Running your hands through the wet strands of his bangs sticking to his prespired forehead, Choso’s face lights up into an intoxicated smile at your candied cooing. “K-keep going-”

As if to illustrate your point, you’re bucking your hips off the bed to meet his - to strike your abdomen down in a stinging slam! The sticky smack of skin-on-skin makes you both hiss, and Choso’s bludgeoning tip drives even deeper in a bashful kiss against your velvety cervix.

“O-oh…” His jaw drops slack, a slight trickle of drool running its way down at this point. Without another words, two strong arms wrap themselves around your body, and he’s angling his hips urgently - desperately - to replicate that gummy recoil. Again. And again. And again and again. “H-how can it feel so hngh- good? How- why, baby?”

Shit, Choso’s babbling nonsense and he knows he’s babbling nonsense.

Which is why once you’re pressing gentle pecks all over his face - from his forehead, to his blushing cheekbones, all down to his wobbly lips - he’s now sure he’s in heaven. And you’re his own personal angel.

Panting out hot puffs against your mouth, you could savor his sugary sweet taste already. “Th-think m’gonna cum again, baby- oh, I- can I cum inside? Please? Please, baby?”

“I-inside, please-” Your words tremble out in nothing but mere mewls, curling one of your arms around his neck to haul your dear boyfriend over even closer. He lets you - lets himself be so used. “-d-don’t miss, okay?”

How could he ever when you’re asking him so sweetly like this?

Making him wrack out a heavy shudder all the way from his dizzy head to his twitchy tip, spurting out a few buttery dredges of pre. So close. Choso slips and slides his palms down onto your thighs to spread them wide open for him. Murmuring out a throaty, “Won’t miss- won’t miss. D-don’t you worry, baby, m’not gonna miss.” like a mantra. Hypnotized.

Splattering out thick helpings of cum that flood your gaping entrance, you can feel your snug walls inflating with each ram of his cock. Swirling down, down, down to knock at your womb- Choso is so messy.

Supposedly helping clean you up by dragging a hand to your tummy, bearing down hard right on top of the very spot he knew would make you spill out a syrupy puddle of his seed. Painting a creamy white ring all over his twitching base.

“L-look, baby- I didn’t miss.” He chuckles - chuckles. So in bliss that he doesn’t even realize the way his entire body was shivering with the convulsions still. “Ah, y-you took my virginity and I didn’t even hngh- miss.”

Barely even lucid when he uses that superhuman strength of his to flip the two of you over, lounging on his back against the now-damp sheets. But Choso doesn’t feel disgusted - not even close - he’s staring up at you through heavy, droopy eyes. Pussydrunk.

And he can only manage out two words.

“Ride me?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - S-s-stutter?!

“Tch, don’t think this is going to get the hah- king to bow down to ya, lil’ human.” Sukuna seethes at the sight of you on all slutty fours - and it would be a whole lot more threatening had it not been for the way his graveling voice cracks. The way all he can let out is a string of slurring swears when your preslicked pussy lips glide across his angrily hard cocks.

“Mhm– whatever you say, Kuna-” your voice was sweetly agitating him, making his flushed heads perk up in feral little jolts. Desperate to bully himself inside your sopping entrance. “Just give me- both-”

With a sudden clasp of his vice-like fingers around your waist, you’re being shoved against the plush mattress of the royal bed. Bouncing up softly against those marshmallowy pillows and caged against Sukuna’s hulking body.

You’re breathing out a little, “It would be easier for you if-”

“I know.” He’s cutting you off, devilishly red eyes straying off into the distance and away from anywhere near your gaze. Regal cheekbones a beet red when he’s finally looking at you, “This-” One of his clawed palms cup your face, “-this is better.”

And of course the king of curses isn’t going to fucking admit it when he wants to see every one of your fucked-out expressions.

Of course he’s not going to let you ponder on his uncharacteristic actions for too long before swiping a wet skim down your slit. Pooling up your slick juices down his pulsing cocks, one of his massive palms jostle and smear that translucent gloss down his lengths. The other prodding at your winking entrance - “Heh, take a deep breath- doesn’t matter that m’a fucking virgin, you’re the one that needs ta brace yerself, brat.”

Fuck- it doesn’t matter how much you might’ve readied yourself because Sukuna’s matchingly thick lengths we always going to split you apart until you felt like you should sob.

It was such a delicious stretch - probing at every one of your sugary spots, his intrusion was working your tight channel open in a way you’d never even thought possible before. Spreading your tight rim of muscle gapingly open as you milk every copious inch of his double shafts.

“Would ya look at that–” Sukuna’s drawling out, and his eyes widen with a tinge of genuine surprise. Long tongue darting outwards to lick up that embarrassing slick of dribble escaping his awe-struck lips. “Sucking me up so well ahhh- s’like your cute pussy’s made f’me. Aren’t ya?”

It’s maddening.

It’s filthy the way that Sukuna’s leaning his sleazy head even closer to drink up every sodden noise that emanates from your cunt when he’s filling himself inside your cunt deeper. And deeper. Like his length was never-ending.

Every squelch, every slurp that makes him chuckle. Wafting one of his dark, overgrown nails across the bumpy outline of his drilling tips on your tummy. “Oh, damn t-talkative, too-”

Your veins thunder rapidly with the sheer lewd embarrassment of having Sukuna listening and conversing with your sloppy cunt. And the feeling makes you let out a whiny huff and clench-

Oh.

He’d never felt like this.

“Sh-shit- marry me.”

Someone’s gasping - and it takes you only a few lazy seconds after Sukuna’s bludgeoning the entirety of his two dicks into your cunt to realize that it wasn’t you. Blinking back your already overwhelmed tears, you open your mouth-

“You didn’t hear th-”

“Wh-what was that?”

“Nothing- oh-” Another clench. Another gushing spurt of his steamy precum dripping down your cervix. “-fuck you evil, evil little…” Sukuna’s baring his sharpened canines in a snarl - but that doesn’t do much to deter your grin when he’s practically shivering with stimulation above you. Stuttering. “I said- m-marry me.”

It’s a command more than a question, and it’s spewing out from Sukuna’s lips with every spearhead into your poor, bruised cunt. Pressing wet peck after peck on your cervix, your g-spot - anywhere and everywhere his thorough cocks could reach - as if he was trying to convince you to say yes.

“It ah! feels so good, Kuna-” you’re dragging out from your shot throat, mouth clamping to a close around a hard bite on his muscular, tattooed shoulders.

“Easy there on the ngh- merchandise.” He rolls his eyes, faintly going cross-eyed when your hips start bouncing back and forth back and forth back and forth in an attempt to match his pressurized cadence. “Though-” Sukuna’s gulping, your cunt had his mind in a frenzy, has this all-powerful sorcerer held hostage. “I guess I should cut some ngh- slack for the future queen.”

Ah, yes.

Sukuna could see it already - the only vision in his hazy mind getting clearer and clearer with each punishing thrust into your gummy depths, with each powerful drag of your hips to slam and bounce against his. The vision of you adorned in his robes and sitting on his throne, with a few little pink-haired heirs too…

And he’s getting ahead of himself - he’s completely, irrevocably pussydrunk at this point.

Out of control when he’s gliding one calloused hand across your tummy, where you’d be round and glowing for him should you wish. The second of his hands dipping cozily down for him to kiss your plump clit with his second mouth. Grinning, “F-for the future queen and…the mother of my kids.”

And when Sukuna’s cumming it’s with that exact image in mind - what a beautiful momma you’d be. What a beautiful cunt you have when you’re all slathered in a thick coating of his seed.

All creamy and glomping out from between your puffed-up slit, you’re cumming at the sheer wave of it filling you up all inside. Until you were so stuffed you felt like you could burst. Seeing stars explode behind your eyes, and your ears thunder with the ricochet of Sukuna’s slowly softening cocks. “B-better not tell anyone about…that, my wife.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - LOVE love

“Please-” Ino’s staring up deeply into your drunken eyes like he never wanted to look away. Never could when you were straddled all prettily on top of him, riding the fucking soul out of his poor, inexperienced cock. “-j-jus’ the tip- nhgh-”

One taste of your pretty pussy and he was gone.

Your hands are sliding greedily down his toned body, making themselves at home right over his pretty pectorals. Swirling over his rosy nipples, “Baby– we’re way past jus’ the ngh- tip.”

You were?

Shit, Ino’s practically grappling with that mushy part of himself to tear his glassy gaze down to where you’re swallowing him up into your gummy heaven. Breath hitching in a grovelling rasp at the way your puffy pussy lips were mounting wide open on his fat girth. Streaming down a waterfall of your glossy slick that covers him in a glistening coating.

Fuck, he suddenly couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“O-oh.” Ino’s mouth sags open with a shuddering gasp, and he can’t help but grin. He can’t help but chuckle in a deep, wet way that makes his furious divot bawl out copious torrents of thick pre. “You are. G-guess you officially took my hah- virginity, huh, pretty?”

Guiding a few slender fingers to give the jiggling fat of your ass a sharp smack! You can only keen when Ino bucks his hips up further and further - harder. Every second sending him into a frenzy.

“T-Taku…” you’re whining out. Fingers glissading across his warm, sweat-sheened collarbones and curling around his tender throat. “I th-thought I told you to let me do all the ah- work…”

Oh, he’s leaning upwards in a sudden surge to kiss up against your lips in a wet glide. Humming confidently like he wasn’t fucking ruined every time your hips came crashing down. “But I can’t help it- can’t- ah- wan’ you to fuckin’ use me.”

Ino didn’t know what he was doing - didn’t even know what he was thinking when he’s curving his powerful back to send a riotous few crashes against your bruising g-spot. To fuck up into you so harsh that it leaves the bed frame protesting in creaks.

Dancing his own digits to intertwine with yours on his neck - Ino makes you squeeze. “Tighter. Harder. C’mon now- f-fuck me, pretty.”

You have no choice but to obey - to slide back and forth on his uprightly curved cock, the angle was dizzying with its collisions against the bullseye of that spot. His heavy balls smack into your ass until you were sure it bruised. And still- still it wasn’t enough.

Stil, Ino finds himself veering a trembly hand up to your plump clit. Leaving a sodden, stinging smack!

“W-woah…” His voice just cracks, brown strands of hair falling onto his sweat-glazed forehead when he’s jolting. “You just got- s-so soaked- tell me tell me how I hngh- do that again-”

So desperate. So eager to please.

The adoration was just bursting from his half-lidded eyes and right through every sparring jut of his cock. Clashing. Kissing. Sopping French kisses into your treacly walls that make you squeal. “J-jus’ right there- hngh-”

“There? There, r-right?” He’s so pretty when he’s batting his long lashes up at you, dewy eyes practically fluttering shut at the way your cunt was clinging onto him. Needy. “A-and what about this? What about ngh- here?”

How tentative…so cute.

“Don’t be shy, baby–” Your voice was honey, so sweetened that it makes him bite back a few pathetic whimpers. A furiously innocent blush sunrising its way into his cheeks, “-you can hah- do whatever you want.”

Whatever.

Fuck, the words are barely out of your mouth before Ino’s clapping his massively splayed out hands onto the curve of your ass. He’s copping a generous grope while seeping his full length in staggering thrusts, and he’s so flexible. So smooth with his movements.

Gifting another palm print that raises against your tender flesh, Ino has the audacity to bear you with a sleazy grin as soon as you strengthen your chokehold on him. Cutting off his airway, yet, he gives you a look that told you he was so in love. Making him choke out a little, “Yeah- yeah jus’ like that. N-need you to fucking ruin my life.”

You’re pecking his lips with such a pout, “Careful, or I might jus’ ngh- tie you up next time.”

And Ino doesn’t know if it’s the idea of a next time or the idea of, well, that but he’s letting his eyes veer crossed and head loll pathetically backwards. A languid drizzle of drool escaping his lips when he wrenches open his mouth and whines, “M’cumming- sh-shit I’m-”

It’s such a melty heaven between your legs.

And Ino’s oozing out pearly gumdrops of cum into your womb, cumming and cumming so hard that he can’t stop it spilling out. And he doesn’t even want to because- shit, he’s never going to cum into his hand ever again.

Doesn’t have to.

Because when you’re finally reaching your high, your sloshing walls clamping around him was addictive. Those moans of yours so pretty that he’s almost wishing he’d brought out his phone to record them as his favorite song.

“I love you-” He’s feeling every velvety throb of your pulse, every clench that his solidly pussydrunken mind would love to think is specifically to suck up every beading sob from his cock. “I love you I love you I- god, I fuckin’ love you, ma.” Feeling every splatter dripping down your cushiony walls. And that makes him cum again- again and again. Orgasms crashing into one another. Until his shaft can only upstart with a few beads of nothing. Cumming dry-

“W-wait are you on the pill, pretty?”

“...”

♡ GOJO SATORU - POCKETPUSSY3000

“Th-this is nothing like my PocketPussy3000…” The great Gojo Satoru can only gape at the way your sultry cunt was swallowing up his red, swollen cock. Can only grip you into a full nelson so bruising. So addicted. Every disappearing inch having his skin burst in a wave of tiny blue bolts of lightning. “Th-this is so much better.”

Better indeed, because the strongest was a virgin.

You’re pushing away the strands of white that cling onto his sweaty forehead, “I-I should ngh- stop you right now for comparing me to that thing.”

And it was just a little joke, really.

But you didn’t anticipate the way that your poor boyfriend would shatter like the world just ended.

His pretty pink lips parting in a slurring gasp, dewy blue eyes practically bulging out of his head. Babbling out something drawling and raw into the crook of your neck, “No- no no no–”

Two of his slender digits dip down to smear your swollen pussy lips wide open, scissoring your sloppy hole elastically open to shovel himself all the way until he was poking into your springy cervix.

“Y-you don’t mean that right?” He’s breathing. Hissing when your snug walls suck his fingerpads up with every lazy - urging pump. The double penetration making you keen. “P-please don’t don’t take this pretty pussy away from me- I jus- got- her-” He’s pressing a flurry of innocent kisses down your cheek. Over and over until you’re cracking a smile. “-I’ll throw it out- th-throw that stupid thing out. Don’t need it anymore when I have hngh you.”

Gojo’s absolutely melting at the sheer sex.

So hot and cozy inside you that he’s fucking hypnotized. Drool driveling down the corner of his mouth when your plushy walls are molding all around his throbbing girth.

God, he truly was the strongest - such a massive cock that he didn’t even have to try to press wet little brandings of precum right near that spot.

“S-squeeze around me, sweetheart–” Gojo’s dragging his thumb sloppily all over your clit, and you get the distinct feeling that he’s making such a mess on purpose. “-please- I r-read about this once- can you…”

Ah, Gojo’s head slumps backwards into the silken pillows with a soft thud! Just one gripping cling of your velvety walls around his cock had him seeing stars.

Had him seeing his future with you. Had him thinking that he might just be content to die right between your pretty thighs. Or worse - cum early.

Now, the strongest couldn’t cum before his girl - not even if it was his first time. No, no, no. The strongest had to bite down on one of his wobbly rose lips before any more embarrassing whines could let slip, planting his feet firmly steadfast onto the mattress to gift a punishing thrust into you.

Jostling into your body until you felt weightless, he’s streaming up translucent glosses of precum with every one of his bounces. Every shuddering thwack! of his tight, cum-filled balls, every bruising smack of his sharp hips onto your ass.

“Where is it-” he’s muttering darkly into your ear. More, more, more. Massive hands coveting all down where he could feel the obscenely thick cylindrical outline of his own length rummaging inside you. Leaving a mess. Making a mess. “C’mon c’mon- c’mon…where is it.”

“Wh-what are you even- ah!” you squeal when he gives your puffy clit a ruthless pinch. “-what are you even looking for, Toru–”

This only leaves you with a few more circular bruises on your cervix, and you catch the way that Gojo’s ruts grow sloppier. The way his pants become more condensed. And he’s dragging his sweat-slicked cheek down your own with a strained call of your name - practically purring.

“Don’t- ohh shit- don’t say my name like that-” Gojo whines - whines. “Please. You don’t know h-how heavenly this gorgeous cunt is, hah- have mercy the first time, sweetness.”

But of course you don’t.

“Toru–”

“Fuck!” Gojo’s dazed eyes snap open in an instant, it was almost as if on autopilot the way his fingers spark subconsciously with a few sparks of cursed energy - he couldn’t hold it in. He didn’t want to.

With a few swift movements, he’s using years and years of practice in battle to wrangle two strong arms around your waist and shove you face-first onto the king-sized mattress.

One sculpted thigh kneeing open your trembly legs further onto all fours, the other hiking up, up, up to angle his reddish tip right into your neglected g-spot. So harsh. So thorough.

“No- no no no- lemme see that p-pretty face.” He’s hauling your pliant body into what you think is a headlock, feeling your neck surrounded by Gojo’s pale, bulging bicep. So tight. it makes you whirl your glassy eyes around and-

Oh.

Gojo Satoru was ruined.

Was letting his six eyes work overtime to locate your cushiony sweet spots, directing his slender hips to plummet right into each and every one. Greedy gaze practically glowing every time your knees weaken when his rotund, weepy head crashes into your battered sensitive spots. Buttering up your insides in a thick, creamy gloss of pre. Close. He was so close.

“Th-that’s cheating–”

“N-nooo not cheating.” he’s leaving the tiniest bites and hickeys all over your exposed neck, back muscles flexing when he bows easily into your own body. You could feel every massage and glide of his washboard abs down your arched spine. He was so hot. Burning up, practically. “I did my r-research…” And it’s the way his powerfully buzzing digits roll messily over your clit that has you wondering whether he even realized he was using his powers.

Whether he was too pussydrunk to.

Too cocky about the way all it takes is a few lazy seconds of his rude toying with your sensitive nub for you to cum. Hell yeah - before him, he’s noting with a heady laugh.

A laugh.

Wide and humorless - directed at you when just a singular gush of your drooling lips makes his eyes slide all the way to the back of his head. And he couldn’t help the way his head drops backwards, all it takes for Gojo to stumble right over the edge.

“Shit shit shit shit-” he’s scrunching his eyes open - just barely registering the way the bedroom lights have shattered. Letting out a low hiss before painting your gummy insides in a milky coat of his thick seed.

Leaving the wettest traces all over your cervix, he can feel its sloshing dredges all around him when Gojo’s ragging down your walls to glide his twitch cock out. To gasp at the way your teary slit was drizzling him in a glistening lamination of his own cum.

Drip! Drip! Dripping all down onto the expensive navy sheet - and he’s finding himself grinning. Shuffling down to his knees until his mouth pressed a pretty peck onto your slobbering pussy, “A-after this m’gonna sh-show you how the strongest really fucks his PocketPussy3000…imaginin’ you.”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely weekkk!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

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edenarchives · 1 month ago

Text

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’ve faked it with every guy you’ve ever worked with. Every scene, every moan, convincing, but never real. Then Bakugo happens. One scene turns into something else entirely and now you can’t stop thinking about him, and you’re starting to wonder if it was ever just a scene.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, praise, light degradation, dirty talk, light choking, possessiveness, semi-public sex (on set), creampie, light aftercare, porn industry setting, blurred emotional lines, language.

PART TWO

You weren’t nervous. Not really.

You’d done this a hundred times. With all the big names—Keigo, who liked to make everything a performance; Touya, who had a thing for whispering filth like he was telling you a secret; even that wild three-way with Shindo and Hitoshi that still topped your subscriber requests.

So no, this wasn’t nerves.

This was something else.

Maybe it was the name on the call sheet. Bakugo Katsuki.

He was the guy. The one who didn’t just act like a powerhouse on camera—he was one. Every scene he was in got clipped, shared, memed, thirsted after. The kind of raw intensity people couldn’t stop watching. Or jerking off to.

You included. Not that you’d admit it out loud.

Okay. Maybe once. When you were wine drunk and swiping through his catalog. Maybe twice. Maybe more.

You’d watched him wreck other girls. Watched the way his hands gripped hips like he owned them. The way his mouth dragged moans out like he knew exactly what buttons to push. You always told yourself it was research. Prep for the inevitable scene.

Now here you were, in the makeup chair, legs crossed, phone in hand, trying not to stare at the clock. You didn’t even get this antsy for award shows.

You shifted your hips a little. God, you needed to get a grip.

“Five minutes, Y/N,” someone called from set.

You gave a casual wave, sliding your phone into your bag. Cool. Easy. You’d done this before. You were the girl. The one who always looked good, always knew her angles, always gave the most convincing moans. No one ever knew they were fake.

No one needed to.

You only did this for the money. Never caught feelings, never chased orgasms. You could finish on your own time. You always did.

But when you walked onto set and saw him—arms crossed, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, like the cameras were already rolling—your breath hitched.

And then his eyes locked on you.

Bakugo didn’t smile. He smirked. All sharp teeth and slow drags of his gaze. Like he was already undressing you in his head.

“‘Bout time,” he said, voice low and cocky.

You raised a brow. “Don’t get cocky, Dynamight.”

He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up. He smelled like something spicy—cologne, sweat, and danger. His smirk widened.

“Too late, princess. I’ve seen your work. Bet I could make you actually cum.”

You laughed. It came out a little shaky. “You think you’re the first guy to say that?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek like he had every right to touch you already. “But I’ll be the first one to prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped anyway. Cocky bastard. You weren’t new to bold claims—hell, you’d heard that same line from half the industry. But something about the way he said it, all low and sure like it was a promise, made your pulse skip.

You turned away before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

The scene started like any other.

Lights. Camera. Action.

You were on your back, legs spread, eyes half-lidded. Your moans were perfectly timed, your hands moving just how they were supposed to.

Bakugo was above you, teasing at first, fingers trailing up your thigh, smirking like he had all the time in the world. You tried to stay in character. Tried to focus.

But then his fingers actually slipped inside, and holy shit—

You bit your lip.

That felt… different.

His fingers weren’t just thrusting. They curled. Pressed. Rubbed against the spot you usually had to hunt for on your own. And when he looked down at you, his eyes weren’t blank or performative. They were locked in. Watching every twitch of your mouth. Every hitch in your breath.

“You always fake it this early?” he muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped. Your thighs tensed.

“What?” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

Bakugo chuckled. It rumbled low in his chest.

“You’re tight,” he said, dragging his thumb over your clit just right. “But you ain’t clenching like you mean it. Not yet.”

And then he sucked on your inner thigh.

Not for the camera. Not for show.

For you.

Your back arched on instinct.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “I got you.”

And you hated—hated—how badly you wanted to believe him.

He didn’t start slow.

He licked into you like he was starving, like he’d been starving, and this was his first meal in weeks. His tongue was hot, wet, relentless—flicking against your clit in firm, practiced strokes that had your legs trembling before you could even bite back the first moan.

You weren’t acting.

Not anymore.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you, white-knuckled, and your lips parted like you wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken little gasp.

“Oh fuck—”

He hummed against you. Smug bastard.

“Don’t hold back now, princess,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit slow, then latching back onto your clit like he owned it. “Let’s show ‘em what it looks like when it’s real.”

You whimpered. Whimpered. You didn’t do that.

Not even when Keigo pulled out the toys. Not even when Touya did that breathy thing in your ear.

This was different.

You tried—tried—to keep it together, but his mouth moved like he already knew every inch of you. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers still working inside you like he wasn’t giving you a fucking choice. He knew exactly where to press, where to flick, when to slow down and when to pick it back up again.

And it wasn’t even for the camera.

It was for you.

Your stomach coiled, tight. Too tight.

Your breathing hitched. Your thighs started to shake. You were going to—

“No,” you gasped, voice panicked, eyes fluttering. “Don’t—fuck—I’m—”

“Yeah you are,” Bakugo growled, pulling back just long enough to look at you. His mouth was wet with you, lips swollen, eyes wild. “C’mon. Don’t fake it. Just fuckin’ let go.”

And then he sucked—hard—right over your clit.

Your body snapped.

The orgasm hit like a wave crashing through you, ripping the air from your lungs. You didn’t fake it. You couldn’t. Your moans were raw, broken, punched out of you like the wind got knocked from your chest. You shook, hands flying to his hair, thighs locking around his head as your back arched off the bed.

And he didn’t stop.

Kept going. Licking, pressing, dragging your orgasm out like he wanted to ruin you.

You came again, again, before you’d even come down from the first.

Your voice cracked. “Bakugo, I—I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he muttered, not letting up for a second. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Look at you.”

You couldn’t. Your vision blurred. Your whole body was buzzing, on fire, shaking like you’d lost control of every single nerve ending. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You didn’t lose it like this.

But god, he was still licking you through it, fingers still curling right there, his voice low and wrecked as he talked you through it like he wanted to brand the sound of your orgasm into your memory forever.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he asked, voice gravel and heat, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You nodded, desperate, lost.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say it’s real.”

Your lips trembled.

“It’s real,” you gasped, breathless, broken. “It’s real, fuck I’m gonna—”

And just like that, you came undone again. Loud. Messy. Helpless.

Bakugo didn’t stop until your hips were twitching, your thighs were soaked, and your moans turned into soft little sobs of overstimulation.

The lights above you still burned hot. The cameras were still rolling. But everything else felt far away—muted, blurry, unreal. Your legs were jelly. Your chest rose and fell like you’d just run a marathon. And Bakugo was still between them, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something forbidden and planned to do it again.

Your brain was still fogged when he stood, stretching to his full height.

Then his hands were back on you, big and warm and so sure, gripping your waist like he owned it. He flipped you over effortlessly, face down, ass up, skin still hot and damp with sweat. Your thighs trembled when they spread open again, already overstimulated and soaked.

Bakugo slid his hands up your back. Slow. Possessive.

“You feel that?” he murmured, leaning over you, his cock grinding against your ass with lazy pressure. “That twitch in your legs? That little shake?”

You nodded weakly, eyes fluttering.

“That’s mine now.”

Your breath caught as he pulled his hips back. You barely had time to process before the thick head of his cock was pressing against your entrance—hot, heavy, and already wet from you.

“You ready?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Then he pushed in.

Slow. All the way to the hilt. Letting you feel every inch. Stretching you open, filling you to the fucking brim. You choked on a moan, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depended on it.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy throb around him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, hips flexing. “So fuckin’ tight. Can feel you squeezing me already.”

You were. He hadn’t even started moving yet and you were clenching around him like you didn’t want him to leave.

Then—he moved.

A slow drag out. A sharp thrust back in. Deep. Deeper. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out.

“That the spot?” he murmured, hips rolling again, hitting the same angle, slow and deliberate.

You nodded, gasping.

“You better fuckin’ tell me when you’re close,” he growled, pace still maddeningly slow. “I wanna feel it. I wanna hear it.”

He reached around and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles that made your arms give out. You dropped to your elbows, back arching like he’d wired you for pleasure.

Then he started really fucking you.

Not fast. Not rough. Just deep. Every. Single. Stroke. Reaching places that made your eyes roll back. His hips snapped forward with just enough force to jolt you up the bed, his fingers never leaving your clit.

You moaned into the mattress, voice high and broken.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “That’s the fuckin’ sound I wanted.”

You were spiraling. Every thrust, every rub, every low growl in your ear sent you closer to the edge.

“Bakugo, I—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he grunted, hips picking up speed, still hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “Then fuckin’ cum for me.”

You shattered.

You clenched around him so tight he groaned, biting down on a curse as your body trembled under him. Your moan punched out of your throat, high and wrecked and real.

But he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck—fuck, wait—” you gasped, hips twitching as he kept thrusting, dragging you straight into another orgasm with no break.

He leaned over you, voice low in your ear. “Not fakin’ now, huh?”

You shook your head wildly, whining into the sheets.

“Bet you never came like this on set before,” he said, voice rough. “Bet no one’s ever made you cum like this off it either.”

He wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled gently, just enough to lift your head.

“Say it.”

You could barely speak. “No one. No one but you.”

“Damn right.”

His thrusts sped up, rougher now, deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, joined by your wrecked little gasps, your whines, the slick mess between your thighs.

“You hear that?” he said, low and smug. “That fuckin’ sound your pussy’s makin’? That’s all me.”

You whimpered, and he slapped your ass—not hard, just enough to make you clench again.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

And then he slammed into you. Hard. Once. Twice. Over and over. You screamed—literally—as another orgasm crashed through you, your body locking up, eyes rolling back.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, and then pulled out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your back, his voice ragged as he came with a low, wrecked growl.

You collapsed.

No faking. No poses. Just you, ruined on the sheets, shaking and soaked and completely fucking gone.

Bakugo dropped to his knees behind you, panting. He grabbed a towel off the edge of the bed, wiped you down gently—so gently it made your chest ache.

“You good?” he asked, voice quiet now. Careful.

You nodded, still dizzy. Still pulsing. Still floating.

“I came so many times I lost count,” you whispered, dazed.

He chuckled, cocky and low. “Good.”

You rolled onto your side, trying to catch your breath.

“That was supposed to be a scene,” you mumbled. “That felt like a fucking movie.”

Bakugo leaned in, kissed your bare shoulder, then smirked against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, “that was just the warm-up.”

You snorted softly, still breathless. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Your legs were still trembling, body wrecked and used and buzzing. But something else was humming under your skin now. That ache in your core—not from need, but from power.

You rolled over, slow and deliberate, dragging your fingers down his chest. His eyes tracked every movement.

“Get on your back,” you whispered.

Bakugo raised a brow but didn’t argue. He leaned back against the pillows, smirking like he thought he still had the upper hand.

His hair was damp with sweat. His lips were swollen. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths. You’d never seen him like this.

Your grin widened.

You leaned down and kissed him—soft, slow, way too good to be acting. Then you sat back, hips lifting off him, and slid down his body.

“Where you goin’?” he rasped, half-laughing, half-breathless.

You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyes dark, lips parted. “Didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

His breath caught.

You licked up the underside of his cock—slow, teasing, wet. He twitched in your hand, muscles tensing as you took your time, letting your mouth work him like you had something to prove. And maybe you did. Maybe you just wanted to see him fall apart the way he’d done to you.

You looked up, mouth wrapped around the tip, and saw it—the crack in his composure. The soft clench of his jaw. The desperate twitch in his thigh. The helpless sound he made when you sucked just right.

“You’re so sensitive, you’re not gonna last,” you said around him, lips brushing the head.

His fingers gripped the sheets. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You kept going, messy and perfect, tongue flicking and mouth sinking deeper, until he was panting, until he was cursing under his breath, until his hips jerked off the bed.

And then you pulled off, slow, dragging your tongue over the tip one last time.

He made a noise—wrecked.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips again. His hands found your thighs like muscle memory, gripping tight.

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw.

“Beg.”

He froze. “What?”

You rolled your hips once, just enough to feel the slide of his cock against your slick entrance.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Tell me you want it.”

Bakugo swallowed hard. His voice was low, rough. “I want it.”

You licked the shell of his ear, teasing. “Not good enough.”

His hands trembled where they held you. Then he growled, breath hot.

“Please.”

You stilled.

“What was that?”

He gritted his teeth. Looked up at you like he hated how much he meant it.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want you. Need you. Fuck, I’ll say whatever you want—just ride me.”

You smiled. Real. Slow. Lazy and smug.

Then you sank down on him—deep, wet, tight—and his whole body arched beneath you, a broken moan punching out of his throat like you’d ripped it from his chest.

His hands flew to your hips.

You rode him slow. Sweet. All control. And when he finally came again—loud, raw, completely undone—you kissed him through it. Held him through it.

And when he whispered your name afterward, soft and stunned, like he didn’t know what just hit him

You smiled. Because for once, it wasn’t just acting.

Neither of you moved right away. His arms were still around you, chest rising and falling under your cheek, skin damp with sweat, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. Your heart was still beating too fast, and so was his.

Eventually, though, you had to get up. Had to move. The spell didn’t break, exactly—it just faded enough to remember where you were, who you were, what this was supposed to be.

You pulled on your robe in silence, legs still shaking slightly, and glanced at him across the bed. He sat up slow, pushing his hair back, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Like maybe he had more to say, but didn’t know how. Or didn’t think he should.

You hesitated.

So did he.

“Um…I’ll see you around,” you said, trying to make it sound casual, even though your voice came out a little too soft.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and reaching for his clothes. “Guess you will.”

Your stomach twisted, weirdly tight, but you smiled anyway. You nodded once, turned, and walked off set without looking back.

You didn’t see the way he watched you go.

Didn’t see the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to reach for you.

Didn’t hear the low, quiet fuck that slipped from under his breath when the door finally shut behind you.

You got home and didn’t even shower right away.

You peeled off your clothes slow, every muscle sore in the best possible way, and collapsed into bed wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie and your post-fuck glow. Your thighs ached. Your voice was half-gone. Your lips were still swollen.

You looked wrecked.

You felt worse.

And yet somehow, the only thing you could think about was him. The way he’d looked at you. The way he sounded saying your name. The way his hands had held you after like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You tried to distract yourself. Pulled up the scene, freshly posted not even an hour ago.

It already had thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments. More than anything you’d dropped in months.

You scrolled.

StepOnMeY/N: Holy shit, that was unreal.

BbyBakuGo: not y/n faking with everyone but bakugo

ToyasToy: Was that real? Tell me that was real.

It was.

You scrolled further.

KeigoOfficial: I feel personally offended. Gonna have to step my game up. Rematch y/n?

TouyaTodo: faked it? With me? damn. i must be losing my edge. hit me up when you wanna make it real doll.

You smirked.

Your DM notifications were blowing up. People you’d worked with. People you hadn’t. Everyone suddenly curious. Hungry. Competitive.

Your stomach flipped. It was fun. It was flattering. But none of it hit quite the same.

Then you saw it.

BakugoK: Already need more from my favorite girl.

You stared at it.

Read it once.

Twice.

A third time, just to make sure it was real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your fingers went numb. You sat up in bed, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Because what the fuck did that mean?

You clicked on his profile. Double checked that it was him.

It was.

No emoji. No game. Just a single comment that said everything and nothing all at once.

Already need more.

Favorite girl.

You slammed your laptop shut and screamed into your pillow. You kicked your feet like a schoolgirl. You laughed—hysterical, breathless, completely losing your mind.

Then you opened your laptop, stared at the comment again, and whispered out loud to no one

“Oh my god.”

Because yeah—you’d done this a hundred times. But this one was different.

#bakugo katuski #smut #my hero academia #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugo smut #mha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo fic #mha #katsuki bakugo x reader

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holeforzenin · 7 months ago

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QUIET <3

Tw - Mommy kink, slight exhibition kink, this is so funny bc I was planning on writing about dom!choso today but end up writing this?? Not proofread

ꕀ ₊⋆ ⤸

“Shhh, gotta be quiet Cho” you tantalizingly whispered to his ear, smiling at his hazed-out, innocent expression as you bounced yourself up and down his cock, dragging your sweet cunt that's he's so so addicted to, on his lengthy dick, spreading your creamy slick all around it—your hands gripped and squeeze both of his muscular biceps during the process, feeling the raw strength beneath your touch as his head slightly leans against the wooden headboard.

You quickly hastened your pace—trying to get the both of you to cum as soon as possible before his mom comes back to check up on you again. It was your first ever sleepover today so what better way to make it an unforgetful memory then to tease and take advantage of your sweet, doting boyfriend who would do anything for you, as long as it made you happy.

His fingers greedily dug into the soft flesh of your plump ass, grasping your curves possessively as he stared up at you—eyes filled with desire and lust as he captured your lewd expression as his angry cockhead furiously jabs against your g-spot over and over again. Bullyingly impaling your pretty pussy opened around him.

He’s trying his very best to stifle the desperate urges to moan and whimper too much but he just can’t help it—feeling the intoxicating pleasure of his seductive, horny little girlfriend manipulating his poor cock and body and using him as a fucktoy for your pleasure drove him crazy, just like this.

He loves it when you use him as your personal little toy to fuck. He was made for it—hell, he’d even let you use him while he’s asleep if you need to, He doesn’t care. He loves it.

He wouldn’t ever admit it but the dirty thought of even getting caught in such a lewd situation like this made his hardened dick throbbed excitedly against your tight soppy walls—that were two seconds away from milking him dry. No one has ever seen this side of Choso other than you, so the thought of even partially getting caught sent shockwaves through his mind.

He bit his lips and lets out a string of curses under his breath when he notices the streaks of cum coating his pulsating cock every time his cock disappears into your core and appears again and there was even more cum overlaying it, driving him sooo fucking crazy. The sight pushed him closer to the brink of ecstasy. He was so so close to stuffing you full of his seed.

“Your pussy is s’good” he whimpered out of breath. A mischievous smirk tugged at your lips as you adjusted your hips, grinding your ass against him at a better angle—coaxing a loud, unrestrained moan out of him.

“Nghh—fuck, m’so close Mommyy!” he lets out a low, guttural moan, his hands now gripping onto your waist, desperately trying his best to keep up with your pace as his gaze fixated on the rhythmic bounce of your breast which only further fuels his ardor.

He almost got a heart attack after hearing the next door slamming open. The sudden noise startled him, sending his heart racing with fear. You moaned out deliciously as you excitedly bounced faster, giggling at his scared expression. He’s so adorable, who knew a big, strong man could be this cute and vulnerable?

Your tight walls hugged his cock so snugly and warm inside of you, you felt like heaven. You grind your hips back and forth on his lap, causing a ripple of pleasure that made your muscles clench even tighter, making his head fall back while he fought the urge to release a moan that threatened to escape his lips.

“Gon-naa cum! Hahhh!” He quickly announced, before shooting his seed right up into your sloppy pussy—making your head fall back as your back arched slightly, you satisfyingly laughed at the pleasure of your insides slowly being filled up by him. You quickly stuffed two fingers in his mouth to quiet him as you drained more and more cum from his thick balls.

The door swings open with a sudden force, "Heyy kiddos! do you guys need anything? If so let me know and you should get some sleep soon!!" Choso's mom enthusiastically calls out by the door.

You smirked wickedly, pressing your soft boobs against his chest, causing a surge of desire to pulse through him. Before leaning your face into his neck, “Be a good boy and answer her for me, Choso” you whispered in a teasing tone before licking a long stripe of his sensitive neck—making his cock jolted with arousal against your gummy walls, you can literally feel it beating rapidly inside of you with his seed still stuffed inside of you as you cockwarmed him.

“I—ye-yes! We’re ohh!- okay~” he stammered—it was all he could make out before his eyes rolled back from the sudden pleasure overwhelming his senses. His head thumped loudly against the headboard as you sucked on his neck, sending shivers down his spine and causing him to lose himself in the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that consumed him.

“Choso, sweetie are you okay?” His mom questioned worriedly, trying to make out what was happening but couldn’t see one bit because she didn’t have her glasses with her.

“Ye-yes! Please juuust go!” His voice cracked as tears prickled from his eyes, his heart pounding with a crescendo of fear and desperation.

“Okay! If you say so…” she replied with a tinge of uncertainty in her voice, casting a quick glance back before gently closing the door behind her with a soft click.

You slowly pulled away, a smirk played on your lips as you took in the sight of how utterly fucked out he looked. So fluttered and adorable.

You cradled his face in your hand, tenderly caressing his cheeks before pushing it deep into your boobs, gently patting the back of his head as he inhaled your scent with a groan. “Shhh Cho, I got you baby. You’re such a gooddd boy” you cooed comfortingly at him.

You giggled excitedly, feeling his cock rock solid again.

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lilianne-tarot · 2 months ago

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PICK A CARD: How Will Your future spouse express jealousy

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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── .✦ PILE I

OHHHH this pile is defination of “I’m jealous, but I will NEVER admit it.” Your future spouse is doing CRAZY STUFF to keep their jealousy under control, but you will feel it. Oh, you WILL feel it.

BABY. This is a long-game kind of love. A soulmate kind of bond. And listen, when someone sees you as their person, their one-and-only, their forever, there is no way in HELL they’re just sitting back while some random tries to get cute with you. i see that your people pile number 1, they don’t react right away. Oh no, no, no. They marinate in that jealousy in their mind. The 7 of Pentacles tells me they watch, observe, process before making a move. Like, imagine someone getting a little too friendly with you at a party. Your future spouse, Sitting there, giving a polite but stone-cold stare, studying every move of that person. They’re literally taking mental notes: Did you laugh a little too hard at that joke? Did you lean in slightly? Are they standing too close? But instead of acting on impulse, they sit there, pretending they’re totally fine (they are NOT fine). When i look at 2 of cups illustration, i feel like, they realy enjoy your company, like A LOT, and when someone else invades this space, they hate that with all their heart.

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO FUNNY. This is that passive-aggressive, sulking, “I’m not mad, I just think it’s funny how…” behavior. They are so in their jealousy, but will they admit it? Absolutely not. Instead, they suddenly lose interest in whatever’s happening. They’re like, “Oh, you’re talking to that person? Wow. That’s so great for you. Anyway, I’ll just be over here…..” They might even act a little distant, maybe even hit you with the classic “It’s nothing, I’m fine” while literally radiating “I am NOT fine” energy. this person is not about to lose their cool in front of you Instead, they suddenly start acting very serious, very focused on something else. They’ll be like, “Oh, I have an email to answer,” or “I need to check something on my phone”. I get the naive energy from your future spouse, like very youthful and maybe little immature because they want you to ONLY themselves. AND THEN. THE JUDGEMENT CARD. This is when they snap back into reality and realize, Oh wait. I’m literally in a relationship with them. They love me. What am I doing? This is where they have that internal wake-up call. They’ll come back to you, realigned, refocused, remembering that you’re their soulmate (2 of Cups energy, baby!!). And THEN, instead of being petty, they’ll drop some casual reassurance-seeking comment like, “So… you seemed to be having fun with them, huh?”, AKA making sure or you to say they had nothing to worry about.

But overall, ill definitely say that They aren’t the type to lash out in jealousy, but you WILL notice the change. The silence, the avoidance, the fake distraction tactics. It’s subtle but LOUD. But at the end of the day? The Judgment card seals the deal, they always come back to their senses, realizing that duh, you’re theirs and they’re yours. And the second you reassure them? BOOM. They’re back to their normal, confident self. These people would give their everything just to be in your company. Very sulky baby energy ngl. They’re not explosive, but they are silently suffering. And bestie, if you ever call them out on it? OH BOY. Expect a very defensive “What? I wasn’t jealous. That’s ridiculous.” … Sure, babe. Sure.

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── .✦ PILE II

Alright, so the first thing I’m catching here is contrast, we’ve got the King of Cups and Temperance trying so hard to play it cool, acting all mature, controlled, and balanced. Then we have The Devil, and that too right in the middle of the spread. The sentence i would immedtly say here is, your future spouse is going to be OBSESSED WITH YOU. It’s the internal battle of “I’m unbothered” vs. “I will die if I see you entertaining someone else.” they try to move past jealousy logically, like, “It’s fine, I trust them”, but The Devil says, “But what if they find someone better?” . And then BAM, Two of Cups swoops in and reminds them that you two are soulmates, and there’s no competition, but oh boy, they still feel it. THIS person gets so confused when it comes to you i can clearly see that by the mixed enrgies from the spread, they are hit with SOO MANY emotions all at once but one theme is prominent, they are SUPERRRRR obsessed with you.

This is giving “jealous but won’t let it show” energy which is just like pile 1 but the energy here is more obsessed type, cause pile 1 was more on the cuter and naive side. Your FS is the type to mask their jealousy under cool composure. They are emotionally intelligent, self-restraint,. If someone flirts with you in front of them, they will not cause a scene will make things very obvious. Whenever they would see someone getting wayyy to close to you they are hit with the thought “ i need to rescue my person,” They will not act out immediately, but best believe they’ll remember it. And later? they’ll try to rationalize their emotions, convince themselves to let it go, but the Two of Cups suggests that deep down, they’ll need reassurance from you. Not that they don’t trust you, but rather, their feelings run deep and they just want to be reminded that you’re theirs.

The Devil is the obsessive thoughts creeping in at night, when they’re alone, replaying a moment over and over like, “Were they actually flirting? Was my FS enjoying it??” This isn’t toxic jealousy, it’s more of that “I don’t want to lose what’s mine” energy. I would say their super obsessive side is balanced by the presence of two of cups here so reagrless of anything, the’ll be the biggest shield of your relationship. You two have such a strong connection that even when jealousy creeps in, they ultimately trust your bond enough to not tuen into insecurity. But ohhh, they’ll find a way to remind you that you’re theirs, subtle, territorial gestures, low-key possessiveness in the most elegant way possible. These people are VERY CONDFIDENT. Expect things like a hand on your waist, pulling you closer mid-conversation, a little smirk when someone’s trying (and failing) to flirt with you. Casual dominance, bestie. (we all love that)

The energy of this pile was super sexy ngl. good for my booktok girlies.

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── .✦ PILE III

As soon as i looked at the spread the immediate thought hit me was, your future spouse is going to treat you like ROYALTY. So, picture this: Your future spouse? They’re so put together, they’ve got their life in check, they exude this natural confidence (like, they’re used to being the main character, okay?), and they don’t just casually do jealousy.no. this is a very secure energy. If they feel it, they feel it deep in their bones. It’s not dramatic, but it’s intensely present, not loud, but undeniable. The thing is, it’s not even about insecurity; it's about you being so precious to them that even the thought of someone else getting too close? Yeah, no, they’re not having it.

See, the Empress and the King of Wands together? That’s fire and devotion. You are the ultimate prize, the softest yet most powerful presence in their life, and they know it. And because they know it, they also know your worth, which means they see the way others see you too. Oh, and trust me, others see you. The way you glow? The way you hold yourself? The way you make even the most casual of interactions feel special? Yeah, your future spouse notices when someone starts acting just a little too friendly. And they don’t like it. The moment you get into a relationship with them, youre going to have the biggest glow up.

This is where things get fun. So when they are jealous, They might not immediately lash out, but there’s definitely a shift, their words get a little sharper, they start inserting themselves into conversations they weren’t in before, and if they’re the more composed type, you’ll notice they suddenly have a lot to say about whoever is making them feel some type of way. But they’re so smooth with it. They’re not obvious. It’s like they play it off as if they’re just making an observation or a lighthearted joke, but there’s an edge to it. A warning. And if the other person doesn’t get the memo? Oh, honey. They will. Your person isn’t impulsive with their jealousy; they’re strategic about it. They’re the type to let people dig their own graves before stepping in. They’ll watch, wait, assess, is this just harmless interaction, or is someone really pushing it? And when they do step in? It’s game over. They’re asserting their presence, effortlessly, dominantly. It’s all in the control. They’ll make the other person feel like they’ve already lost before they even realized they were in a competition.

But bestie, the real magic? It’s in the aftermath. Because once you’re alone? OHHH. This is when their softness creeps in. The Page of Cups peeks through in the smallest ways, they won’t outright admit they were jealous (I mean, duh, pride), but suddenly they’re extra affectionate, extra attentive. And the cutest part? Deep down, they know they have nothing to worry about. You’re theirs, and they’re yours, and that’s not changing. This is such a power duo because we have the empress as well as king of cups in the spread. But bestie, the way they still can’t help but get a little possessive? ADORABLE. They’re not the type to get insecure, but they are the type to make sure that everyone—including you, knows exactly where they stand. They’re the King of Wands, after all. They own their throne, and they protect what’s theirs.

They don’t control, you’re free to do whatever you want, but ohhh, they will make sure you NEVER forget who you belong to. 😌🔥

And honestly That’s hot.

Now tell me, I need to know what divine force blessed you with this person. 💀💀

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

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nanamisgirly · 3 months ago

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cw smut, cheating, toji is almost 50, reader's in college, megumi caught them and is turned on.

sorry not sorry but toji is a total asshole, fucking with no remorse the tight cunt of his son's girlfriend.

"you little brat, this is what you were waiting for" he says, one rough large palm landing on your lower back, forcing you into a meaner arch.

megumi was out to buy some ice cream for the night. He suggested you stay home since he'd be quick anyway. And who were you to refuse when toji was here too?

"walkin' around all day with those slutty little clothes—" his cock was buried sooo deep inside you, splitting you open, making you feel full. "a short, barely coverin' your pussy" he slams his hips harder, grinning when your ass jiggles. "brushin' against my cock when you passed by—" a sharp spank lands on your cheek, making you gasp. "just admit, you stayed here hopin' i'd fill up that needy slut cunt of yours."

toji might be a grumpy old man pushing 50, but the man was still in condition, built like a goddamn machine. his stamina put boys around your age to shame and his cock as thick and hard as a rock when you were around.

"t-toji," you pleaded "huh, don't talk" he growls, slamming into you mercilessly. one hand pressed your face against the cool kitchen counter, keeping you firmly in place. "wanna hear those loud noises my girl is makin' down here" he grins, pupils dilated at the sight of your soaked cunt. you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you open with every relentless thrust. "bet the little boy doesn't make that pussy as wet as i do," he says, voice thick with arrogance. the slick mess between your thighs dripped down, your walls clenching around his length— milking every inch. "best fuckin' pussy i've ever had, so fuckin' tight" he groaned, making his pace even filthier. you could feel his veiny dick deep in your tummy, it was no joke. toji was ruining your inside, he was so fast— imposing a brutal rhythm. you could barely keep up. the kitchen was filled of wet noises, each obscene squelch only fueling his hunger. "meh, listen to her, think she likes being fucked like a whore."

He pulled out, only his tip remained inside. parted your legs wider. angled his hips. slammed back in. and here he was deeper.

your breath hitched, a helpless, pornographic moan spilling past your lips." it's- aghn, d-daddy, mh," too cock drunk. your mind was blank, his cock reaching spots you didn't even know existed. toji chuckles "daddy, huh?" he mocked, that almost turned him into a beast— his cock only grew impossibly harder inside you.

"daddy's gonna destroy that poor pussy of yours," he says in an guttural voice "take it like a good slut". he slipped out, completely, using his flushed glistening brown tip to slap quickly against your swollen clit. "c'mon, brat. make a mess for me so i can fuck it right back into you." he was dragging his dick back and forth on your slick folds, his fat tip creating friction with your stimulated clit each time.

a sharp cry escaping you as you came, your body doing as he said before you realized it. muscles tensed, thighs quivering at the overwhelming pleasure. but toji gave you no time to recover, the second you hit your peak, he was right back inside, his heavy balls smacking against your swollen lips. "here, let's fuck for real now" toji lets out as his grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock, balls drenched in your arousal.

And that's when megumi comes back from the store.

"what the hell are those noises," megumi asks, pushing the door. wet slaps echoing in the hallway. "toji did you put some porn or-" megumi stays still. eyes widened taking in the sight before him.

His girlfriend being fucked out by his dad.

toji doesn't give a fucking damn. doesn't even stop ramming into you. He locks eyes with his child as he picks up the pace, balls deep in you. as if he had all the right, as if he owns you. as if you weren't his son's girlfriend. "tsk, look at that kid," he smirks, amused by the situation. he grabs your hair, forcing you to arch back onto his chest, your breasts bouncing widely as his hips meet yours. "she got a needy hole, i thought i could help" he bites your ear. "her pussy tight's like a damn virgin" he adds. a large hand circling your throat. squeezing.

your vision blurred, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. you weren't even trying to muffle your moans, you couldn't. you were so aroused megumi could see his dad's cock glistening from where he stands, his fists clenching at his side. taking you boyfriend's dad's cock in front of him and having so much pleasure from it— oh that's what you liked. the room was filled of your sounds, shameless, raw, filthy. your walls molded perfectly around the older man's dick. a deep growl coming from toji as he thrusted harder against you. your skins slapping against each other.

"look at that, son" he says in a pant, going in and out so fast it was inhuman. megumi had full view on your bouncing tits and your moist cunt. "pussy's tryin' to suck me in- fuck" toji couldn't stop his pace. his thighs flexing with the effort.

you were a total whimpering mess. megumi could feel his blood rushing to his length. 'why was it so exciting' toji hips rolled, hitting your g-spot perfectly. "oh, d-don't s-stop" and meg' let out a groan at your shaky voice.

"d-daddy, p-please— mghn" your boyfriend flinches at the nick name.

"yeahh, that's right slut, show the kid how needy you are for my cock" and you skirted. you didn't even realized how you did, your mind was spinning, searching for your breath through toji's chock.

"oh, saw that? she's gettin' messier" toji smirks, proud of himself. he was just too good. his mouth goes to your ear and he says loud enough for his son to hear through your noisy moans and slick, indecent pussy's noises "maybe I should let megumi cleans the mess when I'm done splitting you open, huh?" and that's when you finally, finally, lifted your eyes only to be met with a flustered gumi.

and a boner picking through his pant.

૮₍˶ •. •⑅₎ა♡

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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

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Personal Touch

word count: 11K

Park Jihyo x male reader

commissioned fic

You’re watching Jihyo from across the gym, her ponytail swinging as she fumbles her way through another set on the leg press. She’s got those tight black leggings on, the kind that hug every curve, and a cropped tank top that’s already clinging to her skin with a thin sheen of sweat. She’s been at it for, what, twenty minutes now? Maybe thirty? And it’s painfully clear she doesn’t have a damn clue what she’s doing. The weights clank awkwardly as she pushes them up, her form all over the place—knees wobbling, back arched in a way that’s gonna leave her sore as hell tomorrow. She lets out a frustrated little huff, loud enough for you to hear over the thumping bass of the gym’s playlist, and it’s almost cute how pissed she looks.

She’s only been coming here for a couple weeks, ever since her dance trainer—some tough professional with years of career in the industry—told her she needed to build stamina if she was gonna nail the choreography for her group’s next comeback. Jihyo’s not a quitter, you can tell that much. She’s got this stubborn streak, this fire in her eyes that flares up every time she stumbles and gets back at it anyway. But stubborn doesn’t mean she knows jack about working out. The first time you saw her, she was trying to figure out the rowing machine like it was some alien spaceship, yanking the handle all wrong and nearly toppling off the seat. She laughed it off then, but now? Now she just looks defeated, slumped against the leg press, staring at the ceiling like it’s personally betrayed her.

You’ve been keeping an eye on her—not in a creepy way, just the usual scan you do as a trainer, clocking who’s new, who’s struggling, who’s about to fuck up their spine. She’s definitely in the last category. You’ve seen her type before: idols, dancers, people who think their bodies can just magically adapt to anything because they’re used to grinding out rehearsals. But gym shit? That’s a whole different beast, and Jihyo’s floundering.

She catches you looking—those big, dark eyes locking onto yours for a split second—and her lips twist into this sheepish little grimace, like she knows she’s a mess and hates that you’ve noticed. Then she’s back at it, pushing the weights again, grunting through clenched teeth. Nope, still wrong. Her knees are caving in now, and you’re half a second from walking over there just to save her from herself when she finally throws her hands up and flops back, muttering something, probably a curse, under her breath. She’s got a mouth on her when she’s mad—you’ve heard her drop a few “fuck this” bombs already during her solo sessions.

That’s when she drags herself off the machine, grabs her water bottle, and stomps over to the front desk. You’re wiping down a bench nearby, close enough to catch the tail end of her conversation with the gym manager, a chill dude who’s always got a protein shake in hand. “I need help,” she says, voice low, like she’s admitting defeat but still pissed about it. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m gonna break something if I keep going like this. You got anyone good?”

He glances over at you, smirking like he’s been waiting for this. “Best we’ve got is right there,” he says, jerking his chin your way. “He’ll sort you out.”

Jihyo turns, and you’re already standing there, towel slung over your shoulder, giving her a casual nod. Up close, she’s even prettier than you thought—flushed cheeks, a little mole on her forehead, lips glossy from whatever balm she’s got on. She smells like vanilla and sweat, and it’s doing something to your pulse that you shove down quick.

Professional, man. Keep it professional.

“You’re the trainer?” she asks, sizing you up. There’s this flicker in her eyes—surprise, maybe something else—but she covers it fast, crossing her arms like she’s daring you to prove you’re worth her time.

“Yeah,” you say before telling her your name. “I’ve seen you around. You’re working hard, but, uh… you’re gonna snap something if you keep going like that.”

She snorts, but there’s a tiny smirk tugging at her mouth. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. I'm having trouble with my dance trainer—she’s been riding my ass about stamina. Said I need to stop gassing out halfway through practice. So here I am.”

“Here you are,” you echo, grinning a little. “Look, I can help. We’ll figure out what you need—strength, endurance, whatever—and I’ll make sure you don’t kill yourself doing it. Sound good?”

She hesitates, chewing her lip, then nods. “Fine. But don’t go easy on me just ‘cause I suck at this. I can handle it.”

You laugh—can’t help it. She’s got guts, you’ll give her that. “Oh, I won’t. You’ll hate me by the end of the week.”

“Good,” she fires back, and there’s this spark between you, sharp and electric, gone as quick as it came. She tosses her water bottle into her bag and slings it over her shoulder. “When do we start?”

“Tomorrow,” you say, already mapping out a plan in your head. “Come ready to sweat.”

She gives you one last look—half challenge, half something you can’t quite read—then heads for the door, her hips swaying just enough to make you wonder if she knows you’re still watching. You shake it off, grab the disinfectant spray, and get back to work. Tomorrow’s gonna be interesting.

—

The gym’s buzzing when Jihyo rolls in the next day, a little after noon. The second she steps through the door, your eyes snag on her. She’s got this energy today—bouncy, almost eager—like she’s actually hyped to be here. Her outfit’s a knockout: sleek gray leggings that cling to her thighs like a second skin, a neon pink sports bra peeking out from under a loose black tank that’s cropped just high enough to flash a sliver of toned stomach when she moves. It’s not like she’s trying to show off, but damn, she doesn’t have to try. The way the fabric stretches over her hips, the subtle flex of her calves as she shifts her weight—it’s distracting as hell. You catch yourself staring a beat too long and snap your focus back to the clipboard in your hand, scribbling some bullshit note about reps to look busy.

“Hey,” she says, striding up to you with this easy grin. “Ready to kick my ass?”

“Born ready,” you shoot back, matching her vibe. “You look like you’re in a good mood. Sleep well or something?”

She shrugs, tossing her gym bag down by the mats. “Guess I’m just tired of sucking at this. Figured I’d at least try to keep up with you today.”

You smirk, setting the clipboard aside. “Big talk. Let’s see if you can back it up. We’re focusing on stamina—low weight, high reps, keep you moving. Think you can handle it?”

“Psh, bring it on,” she says, cracking her knuckles like she’s about to step into a fight. It’s cute, honestly, how she’s hyping herself up.

You start her off easy—bodyweight squats, just to get her warmed up. She’s got decent form here, knees tracking over her toes, but her pace is all over the place, rushing through the first set like she’s racing the clock. “Slow it down,” you call out, circling around her. “Controlled, not sloppy. Feel it in your legs, not your ego.”

She rolls her eyes but adjusts, sinking into the next squat with a little more focus. You nod, satisfied, and move her to lunges. That’s where shit starts going sideways. Her back leg wobbles like a newborn foal, and she’s tilting forward so far she’s damn near kissing the floor. You stifle a laugh—she’s trying, you’ll give her that—but this is a mess.

“Hold up,” you say, stepping in. “You’re gonna faceplant if you keep that up. Here—” You move closer, close enough to catch the faint whiff of her shampoo, something sweet like coconut. “Back straight, chest up. Step forward, not down.”

She freezes mid-lunge, frowning. “What’s the difference?”

“Everything,” you say, and before you can overthink it, you’re right behind her, hands hovering near her hips. “Can I?” She nods, quick and sharp, and you settle your palms lightly on her waist, guiding her into the next step. Her body’s warm under your touch, solid but soft in all the right places, and you’re hyper-aware of how close you are—close enough to feel her shift her weight, to see the tiny goosebumps prickling up her arms. You nudge her forward, keeping her posture steady, and she follows your lead, sinking into a shaky but passable lunge.

“Better,” you murmur, stepping back before it gets weird. “Keep that up.”

She glances over her shoulder at you, smirking. “Bossy.”

“Part of the job,” you fire back, keeping your tone light. Professional. Always professional.

Next up’s the plank, and holy shit, it’s worse. She drops into it like she’s seen it on Instagram but never actually tried it—elbows wobbling, hips jacked up to the ceiling, looking more like a tent than a straight line.

You can’t help it; you snort.

“What?!” she snaps, glaring up at you, her face already pink from effort.

“You’re, uh… architecturally challenged,” you say, crouching down beside her. “Hips down, core tight. You’re not trying to moon me here.”

She mutters something—probably “asshole”—but lowers her hips, trembling as she holds it. Still not great. You sigh and slide a hand under her stomach, just enough to press up gently, showing her where her core should kick in. Her tank rides up a little, and you catch a glimpse of smooth skin, the dip of her waist. And then there’s her chest—fuck, it’s impossible not to notice now, the way her sports bra strains against her, the swell of her breasts right there as she shifts to adjust. You yank your eyes away fast, focusing on her shaky arms instead. Keep it together, man.

“Feel that?” you say, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your neck. “That’s where you brace. Hold it there.”

She grunts, nodding, and you pull back, letting her struggle through it. She lasts maybe ten seconds before collapsing onto the mat, laughing through a groan. “I’m so bad at this.”

“You’re not bad,” you lie, grinning. “Just… unpolished. We’ll get you there.”

The session rolls on like that—you calling out reps, her fumbling but pushing through, and you stepping in closer each time her form goes to shit. By the time you’ve got her on the rower, she’s panting, sweat dripping down her neck, soaking into the collar of her tank. You kneel beside her, one hand on her back, the other adjusting her grip on the handle. “Smooth pulls,” you say, your fingers brushing her spine as you straighten her out. “Don’t hunch—use your legs.”

She’s so close now, her breath hitching slightly as she follows your rhythm. You can feel the heat radiating off her, the flex of muscle under your palm. Her eyes flick to yours for a second—just a flash—and there’s something in them, a spark that’s not about the workout. But you let it go, keep your face neutral, and step back once she’s got it.

“See?” you say, wiping your hands on your shorts. “Not hopeless.”

She laughs, slumping over the rower, chest heaving. “Yeah, well, you’re doing all the work here. I’m just trying not to die.”

You grin, tossing her a towel. “You’re tougher than you look. We’ll keep at it tomorrow.”

She wipes her face, peeking at you over the edge of the towel, and there’s that look again—quick, sharp, gone before you can catch it. “Tomorrow, then,” she says, and heads for the locker room, leaving you wondering if you’re imagining the extra sway in her step.

—

Weeks slip by, and the gym becomes your little world with Jihyo. Same time, same routine—her showing up in those killer outfits, you barking orders, her swearing under her breath but pushing through. You’re hands-on, always right there fixing her stance, guiding her hips, pressing her shoulders back. Each session’s a dance of its own, her body brushing against yours just enough to make your pulse jump, but you keep it locked down.

Professional. You’re good at that.

Thing is, you’re not just spotting her anymore. Between sets, you’re talking—real shit, not just gym banter. She’s sprawled on the mat one day, catching her breath, and you ask, “So, what’s it like being up there? All those lights, screaming fans?” She laughs, this low, throaty sound, and spills about the chaos of it all—late nights, jet lag, the adrenaline high that crashes hard. You fire back with your own stories, nothing glamorous, just dumb stuff like the time you nearly dropped a dumbbell on your foot first day on the job. She snorts, calls you a klutz, and it’s easy like that.

Then it shifts. She starts digging too—casual at first. “You got a girlfriend stashed somewhere?” she asks one day, mid-squat, smirking up at you. You dodge it with a grin, “Nah, too busy fixing your form.” She lets it slide, but the questions keep coming. What’s your type? Ever dated someone famous? You toss it back—ask her about the wildest afterparty she’s been to, if she’s ever hooked up with a backup dancer. She winks, says, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” and you’re both laughing, but there’s this undercurrent now, something simmering.

The flirting creeps in slow. She’ll flex a little longer than necessary when you’re watching, catch your eye and hold it a beat too long. One day she shows up in this deep blue sports bra, all plunging lines and tight seams, and asks, “This look okay? Not too much?” You choke on your water, manage a “Looks fine,” but your throat’s dry as hell because it’s not fine—it’s fucking incredible. She clocks it, smirks, and goes about her workout like she didn’t just set your brain on fire.

It’s a Thursday when she drops the bomb. You’re wrapping up, wiping down the bench, when she leans against it, all casual. “Hey, wanna grab a drink tonight? Nothing big, just… unwind.” Her voice is light, but her eyes are steady, locked on yours. You freeze for a second—Jihyo, the Jihyo, K-pop royalty, asking you out? No way you’re saying no. “Yeah, sure,” you say, playing it cool. “Where?”

“My place,” she says, like it’s no big deal. “Less chance of someone snapping a pic. Eight work for you?” You nod, and she’s gone with a little wave, leaving you standing there, half-dazed.

Eight rolls around, and you’re at her door—some swanky high-rise with a view of the city skyline that’d make anyone jealous. She opens it in this oversized tee and shorts, barefoot, hair loose, looking like a goddess who doesn’t even have to try. “Hey, come in,” she says, and you follow her to this plush couch, a bottle of soju and two glasses already on the table. You’re sipping, talking, and it’s easy again—laughing about her tripping over a cable at practice, you admitting you once flexed too hard in the mirror and pulled something. Then she’s leaning in, her hand brushing your arm, and the air shifts.

Next thing you know, she’s kissing you—soft at first, testing, then deeper, hungrier. You’re kissing her back, hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. She tastes like soju and something sweeter, and when she straddles your lap, her tee rides up, showing off that perfect waist. “Been wanting this,” she murmurs against your mouth, and you’re gone—brain short-circuiting as you tug the shirt over her head, revealing smooth skin and a black bra that’s barely containing her.

You’re at it for hours—her place, yours, doesn’t matter. She’s a fucking dream in bed, all confidence and heat. The way she moves, fluid and sure, like she’s still got that dancer’s rhythm even when she’s riding you, head thrown back, moaning your name. Her body’s unreal—curves that fit your hands like they were made for you, skin so soft it’s criminal. She’s loud too, doesn’t hold back, gasping and cursing in this raw, desperate way that drives you wild. You’re matching her, gripping her hips, thrusting up hard, both of you chasing that high. It’s messy, sweaty, perfect—her nails digging into your shoulders, your teeth grazing her neck, the couch creaking under you.

After, she’s sprawled across your chest, panting, grinning like she’s won something. “We’re keeping this quiet, yeah?” she says, tracing lazy circles on your skin. You nod, still catching your breath. “Yeah, secret’s safe.”

And it is—for weeks, you’re sneaking around, hooking up whenever you can. Her place after a late-night workout, your apartment when her schedule’s clear. She’s insatiable, pulling you into her orbit again and again. Every time, she’s flawless—arching against you, whispering filthy shit in your ear, unraveling in ways that make you want to worship her. You’re addicted, and she knows it, playing you with those sly smiles and teasing touches. It’s your little world, hidden from everyone, and fuck if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever had.

—

It’s been weeks since you’ve had Jihyo to yourself—her schedule’s been a nightmare, all rehearsals and promo bullshit, leaving you both stuck with quick texts and the occasional late-night call where her voice is all raspy and tired but still manages to get you hard. You’ve been pent up, restless, scrolling through old pics she’s sent—her in that tiny red dress, or that one mirror selfie with nothing but a towel—and it’s been hell. Today, though, she’s finally here, strutting into the gym like she owns it.

The first thing Jihyo does is head straight to the hallway to store her bag in one of the lockers where the showers are. She’s in this black two-piece set—sports bra tight enough to make you dizzy, leggings that hug her ass so perfectly it’s obscene. Her hair’s up in a messy bun, a few strands sticking to her neck, and she’s got this glint in her eye, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. You’re behind the counter when she walks up, leaning over it just enough to give you a peek down her top. “Miss me?” she says, voice low, lips curling into this wicked little smile.

“More than you know,” you mutter, gripping the edge of the counter to keep your hands off her right there. She laughs, soft and teasing, and you’re already counting the seconds until you can get her alone.

The workout starts normal enough—stretches, some light cardio, you playing it cool while she bounces on the treadmill, every step making her chest jiggle in ways that should be illegal. But she’s not letting it stay normal. She’s brushing past you too close when she grabs her water, her hip grazing your crotch just long enough to make you twitch. Then it’s the squats—she’s facing you, sinking low, holding your gaze like she’s daring you to break. “How’s my form?” she asks, all innocent, but her tongue flicks over her bottom lip, and you know she’s fucking with you.

“Good,” you manage, voice tight. “Real good.” She smirks, turns around, and bends just a little deeper, ass popping out like a neon sign screaming touch me. You’re horny as hell, and she’s matching it—every move she makes is deliberate, dripping with intent.

By the time you’ve got her on the leg press, you’re done playing. She’s pushing the weight up, thighs flexing, grunting these tiny, breathy sounds that shoot straight to your dick. You step in close—closer than you need to—hands on her knees, adjusting her angle. “Keep ‘em steady,” you say, but your fingers linger, sliding up her thighs a fraction, and she doesn’t push you away. Instead, she tilts her head, locks eyes with you, and lets out this slow, “You gonna keep teasing, or do something about it?”

That’s it. The gym’s quiet—late at night, hardly anyone around—and you’re buzzing with this reckless, aching need. “Fuck it,” you say, voice low. “There’s a spot out back—employee storage room. No one’s in there. Wanna sneak off?” Her eyes light up, pupils blown wide, and she’s off the machine in a heartbeat, wiping sweat off her forehead with this sly, “Lead the way.”

You’re quick about it—grabbing her wrist, weaving through the gym like you’re just showing her something routine. Past the lockers, down the hall, your heart’s hammering because this is dumb as hell, but the thrill’s got you stupid. The storage room’s tucked behind a staff-only sign, all dim lights and stacked equipment—mats, spare weights, a busted rowing machine in the corner. You shove the door open, pull her in, and lock it behind you, the click loud in the quiet.

She’s on you before you can even turn around—hands fisting your shirt, yanking you into a kiss that’s all teeth and heat. “Been thinking about this all day,” she breathes against your mouth, already tugging at your waistband. You groan, shoving her back against a stack of mats, her gasp sharp and dirty as you grind against her. Her leggings are peeled down fast—your fingers hook in, dragging them past her knees, and she’s kicking them off, desperate, the sneakers getting in the way, while you shove your shorts down just enough.

She’s soaked—you can feel it when your hand slips between her thighs, rubbing her through her panties before you push them aside. “Fuck, you’re wet,” you mutter, and she just moans, loud and shameless, arching into your touch. Then you turn her around and push her against the mats, leaving Jihyo with her back to you. You line up, push in slow at first, watching her face—eyes fluttering shut, lips parting with this soft, “Oh shit,” that makes your blood roar.

Then it’s on.

You’re fucking Jihyo from behind, her ass bouncing against your hips with every thrust, and she’s loud as hell—moaning like she’s trying to wake up the whole damn building. “Fuck, I missed this cock so much,” she gasps out, voice all shaky and wrecked, her hands braced against the stack of mats like they’re the only thing keeping her upright. You grin, gripping her hips tighter, feeling her clench around you. “Yeah? Well, I missed this pussy—been driving me fucking crazy thinking about it,” you growl back, picking up the pace just to hear her whimper.

Her top’s still clinging to her, soaked with sweat, and you can’t resist anymore. You reach around, yank it up over her chest, and those heavy, perfect tits spill out, jiggling with every slap of your hips. “Shit, missed these too,” you say, half-laughing, reaching down to grab a handful, squeezing just hard enough to make her groan. They’re soft, warm, and you’re losing your damn mind over how good she feels, inside and out.

You’re both going at it hard, the storage room echoing with the wet smack of skin and her breathy little curses, but it’s cramped as fuck against the mats. “Hold up,” you pant, slowing down, “we gotta get more comfortable or I’m gonna bust something.” You pull out—her little whine at the loss almost kills you—and spin around, snagging one of the thick gym mats from the pile. You toss it down with a slap on the concrete floor, kicking some random crap out of the way. Jihyo doesn’t waste a second—she’s on her back in a flash, taking off her panties and the top, legs now spread, looking up at you with those dark, needy eyes, chest still heaving.

You drop down over her, crashing your mouth against hers, kissing her sloppy and deep, tongues tangling like you’re starving for it. Her hands are all over you—nails digging into your shoulders, tugging at your hair—while you grind against her, letting her feel how hard you still are. You break the kiss, smirking, sliding down just enough to get between her thighs again. She’s soaked, glistening, and you’re lining up, ready to sink back in, when something shifts behind you—like a shadow or a vibe you can’t ignore.

Jihyo gasps, loud and sharp, and scrambles to cover her tits with her arms, eyes wide as saucers. You whip your head around, heart jumping into your throat, and there they are—your two buddies, Jihoon and Minho, standing in the doorway like they just walked into a goddamn porno. “What the fuck?!” you yelp, adrenaline spiking, dick still out and everything. You’re half-expecting a fistfight or some shit, but Jihoon’s holding up his hands, all chill, while Minho’s grinning like an idiot.

“Relax, man,” Jihoon says, voice low like he’s trying not to spook you. “We’re not here to fuck you up.”

“How the hell’d you get in here?” you snap, pulling your shorts up just enough to not feel totally exposed. Jihyo’s still curled up, clutching her chest, looking mortified.

Minho jingles a key between his fingers, smirking. “Spare, dude. Perks of being on shift rotation.”

“And, uh,” Jihoon cuts in, scratching the back of his neck, “we saw you two on the security cam. Figured you’d want a heads-up before the boss checks the tapes and you’re toast.”

You blink, brain catching up. “Wait, there’s a fucking camera in here? Since when?”

“Last week,” Minho says, shrugging. “You were off that day. They put it in ‘cause some asshole kept swiping protein bars from the stash. Didn’t think you’d be the first one caught with your pants down.”

Jihyo’s face goes pale, and she sits up, tugging her top back down over her tits. “Oh my God, the footage—if that gets out, my career’s fucking done. Dispatch’ll have my head, the fans’ll riot—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Jihoon interrupts, stepping closer. “Chill, princess. We’ve got access to the system. We’ll wipe it clean, no trace. You’re safe.”

She exhales hard, shoulders slumping, and mutters a shaky, “Thanks, you guys. Seriously.”

You’re still processing, adrenaline fading into this weird mix of relief and horniness that hasn’t fully died down. You glance at them, then at Jihyo sprawled on the mat, and back to them. “Alright, well, since you’re here… might as well let us finish what we started, yeah?”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jihoon lets out a low whistle. “Dude, you’re still good to go after that? Balls of steel.”

You shrug, smirking despite the chaos. “Caught red-handed already—what’s the difference now? She’s hot, I’m hard, let’s roll.”

That’s when Jihyo’s eyes flick over to Minho, lingering on the obvious bulge straining against his gym shorts. She tilts her head, lips curling into something mischievous. “Wait a sec—were you two getting off on the show back there?”

Minho freezes, face going red, but Jihoon just laughs, scratching his jaw. “I mean… you’re fuckin’ hot, Jihyo. Hard not to notice.”

She looks at you, that spark back in her eyes, and you’re not sure what’s coming next until she says, “Well, where are your manners, babe? Why don’t you invite your friends to join us?”

You choke on your own spit, head snapping to her. “You’re serious?”

She leans back on her elbows, smirking like she’s got all the power in the room—and fuck, maybe she does. “Yeah, why not? They’re hot. You’re hot. I’m down if they are.”

Your brain’s short-circuiting, but you turn to Jihoon and Minho, who are staring at each other like they just won the lottery and don’t know how to cash the ticket. “Uh… you guys in?”

Jihoon’s grin spreads slow and wide. “Hell yeah, man.”

Minho nods fast, already tugging at his shirt. “Fuck it, let’s do this.”

Jihyo laughs. “Alright, boys, strip down and get over here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

Jihoon and Minho step up, peeling off their shirts and shorts like they’re racing each other, tossing the sweaty gym gear into a pile by the busted rowing machine. You’re still on the mat, Jihyo sprawled beside you, and you’re all just staring for a second.

“Alright, so… how’s this gonna go down?” you ask, voice rough, trying to wrap your head around the fact this is actually happening. Your dick’s still throbbing, aching to get back inside her, but now there’s two extra players in the game.

Jihyo sits up, grinning like she’s already got it all figured out. “We’re switching it up. You’re on the bottom, babe, lie back. I’m riding you, but I’m gonna stick my ass out for these guys.” She pauses, catching Jihoon’s eye. “Never taken it in the ass before, though, so let’s start slow. Fingers first, yeah?”

Jihoon nods, licking his lips like he’s been handed a winning ticket. “Fuck yeah, I’ve got you. We’ll ease into it.”

You finally get rid of your shorts and Minho’s already shuffling forward, positioning himself in front of Jihyo, his cock bobbing heavy and thick right at her eye level. She doesn’t hesitate—wraps her fingers around it, light but firm, giving it a slow stroke that makes him groan low in his throat. “Damn, Minho,” she purrs, voice all husky and teasing, “this is a nice fucking cock. Thick, too—gonna feel so good in my mouth.”

You’re flat on your back now, the mat cool against your skin, and Jihyo swings a leg over you, straddling your hips. Her pussy’s still slick, dripping from earlier, and she lines herself up, sinking down onto your cock with this slow, deliberate roll of her hips that makes you curse under your breath. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” you mutter, hands clamping onto her thighs as she settles, her weight pressing you deeper inside her.

She leans forward just enough to stick her ass out, cheeks round and perfect, wiggling it a little like she’s daring Jihoon to make his move. He doesn’t fuck around—steps up behind her, hands spreading her ass wide, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. “Goddamn, look at this,” he says, voice low and gravelly, before he spits right on her hole, a thick glob that glistens in the dim light. Jihyo shivers, a little “mmh” slipping out as he rubs it in with his thumb, circling her tight entrance, teasing it open slow.

“Feel good?” Jihoon asks, smirking, and she nods, biting her lip hard.

“Yeah, keep going,” she breathes, already rocking on you a little, her pussy clenching around your dick like a vise.

Up front, Minho’s got his hands in her hair, guiding her down as she parts her lips and takes him in. She starts slow, tongue flicking over the tip, tasting him, before sliding deeper, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks. Minho groans loud, head tipping back. “Holy shit, Jihyo—fuck, that mouth.”

You’re thrusting up into her now, matching her rhythm, the wet slap of your hips against hers filling the room. She’s moaning around Minho’s cock, muffled and sloppy, spit dripping down her chin as she bobs her head. Jihoon’s working her ass with one finger now, pushing past the tight ring slow and careful, and you can feel her tense up, her pussy gripping you even harder. “Relax,” Jihoon murmurs, free hand rubbing her lower back, “I’ve got you, just breathe.”

She does, exhaling shakily through her nose, and you can tell she’s getting into it—her hips start moving faster, grinding down on you while Jihoon adds a second finger, stretching her out. “Fuck, that’s tight,” he grunts, scissoring his fingers a little, and Jihyo pulls off Minho for a second, gasping.

“Shit, Jihoon—feels weird but good,” she pants, before diving back onto Minho, sucking harder like she’s channeling it all into him.

You’re losing your mind under her, the heat of her pussy, the way she’s bouncing on you, tits swaying with every thrust. You slide your hands up, cupping them, thumbs flicking over her nipples—hard and pebbled—and she moans louder around Minho, the sound vibrating through him till he’s gripping her hair tighter, fucking her mouth shallow and quick.

Jihoon’s got a rhythm going now, fingers pumping steady, and Jihyo’s ass is loosening up, taking it like she’s been waiting for this. “Ready for more?” he asks, voice rough, and she pulls off Minho again, nodding fast, spit stringing from her lips to his cock.

“Yeah, keep going—want it,” she says, all breathy and wrecked, before swallowing Minho down again, deeper this time, gagging a little but not stopping.

Finally, he pulls his fingers out, and Jihyo lets out this shaky, needy sound around Minho’s dick that makes your pulse jump. Jihoon spits into his palm, a thick wad, and slicks it over his cock—already hard as steel, veins bulging, tip flushed dark. He spits again, right onto her gaping hole, watching it clench and unclench like it’s begging for him. “Alright, baby,” he says, low and gritty, “time to open you up for real.”

He lines up, pressing the head against her ass, and even with all the prep, it’s a fucking fight—her rim’s so tight it barely budges. Jihyo tenses, pulling off Minho with a wet pop, gasping, “Slow, slow—fuck, go slow.” Jihoon nods, one hand gripping her hip, the other guiding his dick, and he pushes—just the tip at first, breaching her with this agonizing, deliberate pressure. She yelps, sharp and raw, her whole body locking up, and you feel it—her pussy clamps down on you like a vise, making you hiss through your teeth.

“Relax, Ji,” you murmur, sliding your hands up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her tits, trying to ground her. “You’ve got this.”

She nods, quick and jerky, sucking in a breath as Jihoon inches deeper, his cock disappearing bit by bit into her ass. “Holy shit,” he groans, head tipping back, sweat beading on his forehead. “Like a fuckin’ vice grip—Jesus.” He’s going slow like she asked, but you can see the strain in his jaw, the way his fingers dig into her flesh—he’s dying to just ram it home.

Jihyo’s got her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, panting hard as her body adjusts. You start moving again, shallow thrusts up into her pussy, keeping her full from below while Jihoon works her from behind. Minho’s not waiting around—he taps his cock against her cheek, smearing pre-cum and spit across her skin. “Open up, gorgeous,” he says, and she does, tongue flicking out to taste him before he slides back in, filling her mouth again.

Now she’s stuffed—all three holes, proper fucked like some kind of porn fantasy come to life. You’re pounding up into her pussy, feeling the heat of her walls ripple every time Jihoon shifts in her ass. It’s a tight fit—too tight, almost—like her body’s not sure it can handle this much, but she’s taking it anyway, rocking between you, her moans turning into these desperate, throaty cries that Minho’s dick only half-smothers.

Jihoon’s picking up the pace now, still careful but deeper, his balls brushing your thighs as he sinks halfway into her ass. “Fuck, she’s loosening up,” he grunts, spitting again where they’re joined, making it slicker. You can see it—his cock stretching her rim, the skin pulled taut, pink and shiny with spit and friction. Jihyo’s trembling, her tits bouncing with every thrust, nipples hard and dark, begging to be touched. You grab one, pinching it between your fingers, and she arches, a high whine breaking free around Minho’s shaft.

And he is losing his damn mind up there—his hips twitch, fucking her face in short, sloppy thrusts, his cockhead hitting the back of her throat till she’s gagging, tears prickling her eyes. “Goddamn, this mouth—fuck, Jihyo, you’re killing me,” he rasps, pulling out just long enough to let her cough, spit stringing from her lips to his tip, before he’s back in, chasing that wet heat.

You’re synced up now, you and Jihoon—when he pushes in, you pull back, then switch, keeping her full, keeping her guessing. Her pussy’s dripping, soaking your hips, the mat, everything—slick and hot, squelching loud with every thrust. You can feel Jihoon through the thin wall between you, his cock rubbing against yours inside her, and it’s fucking wild—intense, dirty, like you’re sharing her in ways you never imagined.

Jihyo pulls off Minho again, gasping for air, her face a mess—cheeks flushed, mascara smudged, spit glistening on her chin. “Oh my God—fuck, you guys—it’s so much,” she chokes out, voice hoarse but dripping with lust. She’s shaking, thighs quivering, but she doesn’t tell you to stop—just leans forward, kissing you hard, all teeth and tongue, while Jihoon keeps grinding into her ass.

“Too much?” you ask against her mouth, smirking, thrusting harder to test her.

“No,” she fires back, fierce, nipping your lip. “More—fucking give me more.”

Jihoon laughs, low and dark, smacking her ass lightly—red blooms under his palm, and she yelps, clenching around you both. “Greedy little thing,” he says, then slides deeper, almost all the way in now, his hips flush against her. She screams, muffled quick as Minho shoves his cock back in her mouth, holding her head steady while he fucks her throat.

The room’s a furnace—sweat’s dripping off you, off her, off them, the mat slick under your back. Your hands roam her body—tits, hips, the soft curve of her belly—feeling every shudder, every tense. Her ass is bouncing now, Jihoon’s fully in, his thrusts long and slow, stretching her out while you hammer up into her pussy, fast and rough.

You’re all going at Jihyo like she’s some kind of dirty dream come to life, this K-pop diva turned full-on slut in your hands. She’s moaning like a goddamn porn star, muffled around Minho’s shaft, her tits bouncing wild with every thrust, nipples brushing your chest as she rocks between you. Jihoon’s got her ass in a death grip, slamming in deep, his hips smacking her cheeks so hard the sound bounces off the cinderblock walls. “Fuck, this tight little hole—Park Jihyo, man, who’d have thought?” he pants, voice all gravel and awe, like he’s still processing that he’s balls-deep in a K-pop goddess. His thrusts are steady, relentless, splitting her open while you pound up into her pussy, feeling her walls flutter and squeeze like she’s trying to crush you. Minho’s up front, one hand tangled in her messy bun, the other braced against the stack of mats as he fucks her face, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, her eyes watering.

“Bro, this is insane,” Minho grunts, pulling out just enough to let her gasp, her lips swollen and glossy, before sliding back in. “Fucking Jihyo—Twice’s Jihyo—like she’s some cheap whore. I’ve been stanning her since ‘Cheer Up,’ and now she’s gagging on my dick.”

You smirk, hands digging into her hips as you thrust harder, making her whole body jolt. “Yeah, well, I’ve been hitting this for weeks, dude. Secret’s been worth it—her pussy’s fucking unreal.”

Jihoon laughs, a dark, filthy sound, smacking her ass again—red handprints layering over her skin. “You lucky bastard! Keeping this goddess under wraps? I’d have been bragging day one.”

Jihyo pulls off Minho with a wet pop, coughing, voice hoarse but dripping with sass. “Keep talking like I’m not here, assholes—I’m the one taking all your cocks.” She grins, then dives back onto Minho, sucking him down like she’s proving a point. You feel her clench around you, loving the dirty praise, the way you’re all losing your minds over her.

“Let’s switch it up,” you say, voice rough, pulling out of her pussy with a slick, obscene sound that makes her whimper. “New holes, new vibes—let’s keep this shit fresh.”

She nods, eager, wiping spit off her chin as you all shuffle around on the mat. You lie back, pulling her on top of you again, but this time you’re aiming for her ass—Jihoon’s already stretched it good, and you want in. She straddles you reverse, facing Minho, her ass hovering over your cock as you spit on your hand, slicking yourself up. Jihoon steps up front, claiming her pussy, while Minho stands close to her face, ready to stuff her mouth again.

You grip her cheeks, spreading them wide, and guide her down slow—her ass is still tight as fuck, even after Jihoon’s work, and the way it grips you as you sink in has your head spinning. “Holy shit, Ji,” you groan, watching her rim stretch around you, pink and shiny, “this ass is something else.” She hisses at the burn, but keeps going, sinking lower till you’re buried to the hilt, her body shaking against you.

Jihoon’s already sliding into her pussy, his cock pushing through her soaked folds, and she moans loud, head tipping back. “Fuck—two at once again, you guys don’t play,” she gasps, voice cracking as Jihoon starts thrusting, shallow and fast, stretching her cunt while you rock up into her ass, slow and deep to counter him. Minho grabs her jaw, tilting her head forward, and she opens wide, letting him fill her mouth again, his tip hitting her throat with a wet gurgle.

Now it’s a whole new beast—her ass is tighter than her pussy, hotter, the pressure unreal as you fuck up into it, feeling Jihoon’s cock rubbing through the thin wall separating you. He’s grunting with every thrust, her pussy dripping down his balls, smearing onto your thighs. “Man, this angle—her cunt’s hugging me so damn good,” he mutters, eyes locked on where he’s disappearing inside her, her lips puffy and slick around him.

Minho’s got her face in a vice, hips snapping forward, his cock sliding past her tonsils till she’s drooling all over him, spit dripping down her chest, coating her tits in this glossy mess. “Look at her, dude,” he says, voice shaky with lust, “fucking Park Jihyo—queen of K-pop—taking it like a street girl. I’ve jerked off to her fancams a hundred times, and now I’m wrecking her throat.”

You thrust harder, making her bounce, her ass cheeks jiggling against your hips. “Yeah, and I’ve been railing her on the DL this whole time,” you fire back, smirking. “You don’t even know—her stamina’s insane. She’s a freak behind closed doors.”

Jihyo pulls off Minho, laughing through a moan. “You’re all obsessed—fuck, keep going, don’t stop.” She dives back onto him, sucking harder, her tongue swirling around his shaft like she’s starving for it. Her ass clenches around you, tighter every time Jihoon slams into her pussy, and you can feel every twitch, every pulse.

The new position’s got her body on full display—tits swaying, sweat streaking down her spine, her thighs flexing as she balances on you. You grab her hips, guiding her up and down your cock, loving the way her ass swallows you whole, the slide slick and hot. Jihoon’s hands are all over her front, pinching her nipples, making her yelp into Minho’s crotch, her cries vibrating through him till he’s gripping her hair tighter, fucking her face with zero restraint.

“Shit, this is a fucking masterclass,” Jihoon says, voice low, almost reverent, as he pounds her pussy, the wet smack of his hips against hers loud and lewd. “Never thought I’d be learning how to fuck from Jihyo herself—K-pop royalty turned cockslut.”

Minho nods, dazed, his hands trembling as he holds her head. “Yeah, man, she’s the dream—those vocals, that face, and now this? Bro, you’ve been living the goddamn fantasy.”

You grin, thrusting deeper, making her scream around Minho’s dick. “What can I say? She picked me first—guess I’ve got the magic touch.” You smack her ass, hard, leaving a fresh red mark, and she bucks against you, driving you even deeper.

“Yo, let’s flip it,” Minho says, pulling out of her mouth with a sloppy, wet sound, his cock glistening with her spit, veins popping like he’s barely holding it together. “I want a piece of that pussy—Jihoon, you take her mouth.”

Jihoon grins, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Fuck yeah, been dying to feel that tongue on me.” He slides out of her cunt, leaving it dripping and pulsing, a slick trail of her juices stringing from his tip to her lips as he steps back. Jihyo gasps, catching her breath, her chest heaving—those heavy tits rising and falling fast, nipples dark and stiff. She licks her lips, smirking, like she’s ready for whatever’s next.

You keep her steady, hands clamped on her ass cheeks, spreading them wide as you thrust up into her, slow and deep, savoring the way her hole stretches around you. Minho’s already moving, stepping up between her legs, his cock bobbing heavy and thick, shiny with her spit and his own pre-cum.

Minho grabs her thighs, yanking them apart like he’s claiming territory, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Fuck, look at this—pussy’s begging for it,” he says, voice low and hungry, rubbing his tip against her folds, teasing her clit till she squirms. She’s soaked, dripping down onto your hips, and he doesn’t wait—just plunges in, hard and fast, filling her cunt with one brutal thrust. Jihyo cries out, sharp and loud, her body jolting against you, making your cock twitch inside her ass.

“Shit, Minho—easy,” she gasps, but her hips roll forward to meet him, contradicting her words. He’s already moving, slamming into her pussy with these wet, nasty smacks, his balls slapping her skin, her juices splattering every time he bottoms out. Jihoon’s up by her head now, his dick hovering over her face—hard, flushed, dripping a little from the tip. “Open wide, babe,” he says, smirking, tapping her cheek with it like he’s marking her. She doesn’t hesitate—parts her lips, sticking her tongue out flat, letting him drag his cock across it before he shoves in. She moans around him, muffled and desperate, her hands reaching up to grip his thighs as he starts fucking her mouth, slow at first, letting her adjust.

“Goddamn, that’s it,” Jihoon groans, head tipping back, his toned arm flexing as he holds her head steady. “Suck it good, Jihyo—fuck, your lips look unreal wrapped around me.” Her tongue’s working him hard, swirling around the head every time he pulls back, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin onto her tits. She’s sloppy with it, gagging a little when he hits her throat, but she doesn’t stop—just takes him deeper, eyes watering, loving the mess.

You pick up your pace, thrusting up into her ass harder now, matching Minho’s rhythm. Her body’s bouncing between you, caught in this brutal push-pull—your cock splitting her ass, Minho’s stretching her pussy, Jihoon’s filling her throat. She’s shaking, thighs quivering, tits jiggling with every slam, her skin slick with sweat and spit and her own slick. The mat’s a disaster under you—wet patches spreading, the air heavy with that raw, musky scent of bodies colliding.

“Man, this pussy’s insane,” Minho grunts, his hands sliding up to her waist, pulling her down onto him harder. “Tight as fuck, wet as hell—Jihyo, you’re killing me here.” He’s going deep, his hips snapping fast, her cunt squelching loud every time he drives in, her walls pulsing around him like she’s trying to squeeze him dry.

You laugh, rough and breathless, smacking her ass so it jiggles against your hips. “You’re just figuring that out? Been tapping this for weeks, bro—she’s a fucking goldmine.”

Jihoon’s got her hair fisted now, guiding her head as he fucks her face, his voice all gravel and awe. “Weeks, huh? You’re a legend. Fucking Park Jihyo in secret? I’d have lost my mind day one—her sucking me off like this, now I get why you kept it quiet. She’s a goddamn dream.”

Jihyo pulls off him for a second, gasping, spit stringing from her lips to his cock, her voice wrecked but dripping with fire. “You guys—fuck—talking about me like I’m some trophy. Keep fucking me, I love it.” She dives back onto Jihoon, sucking him down hard, her cheeks hollowing, tongue flicking wild against his shaft.

Minho smirks, thrusting deeper, making her moan around Jihoon’s dick. “Oh, she’s a trophy alright—K-pop’s finest, taking all our cocks like a pro.”

You feel her ass tighten at that, like the dirty talk’s lighting her up, and you ram up harder, making her whole body shudder. “She’s been my slut for a while,” you say, grinning, “loves it nasty—can’t get enough. Right, Ji?” You smack her again, and she whimpers, the sound vibrating through Jihoon’s cock till he’s groaning loud.

“Fuck yeah, she does,” Jihoon says, his hand slipping down to cup her jaw, guiding her deeper. “Look at her—those big eyes, that voice, and now she’s choking on me like it’s nothing. Been replaying her ‘Fancy’ fancams in my head forever, and this is a million times better.”

Minho’s hands roam up her sides, brushing her tits, thumbs flicking her nipples as he fucks her pussy raw. “Better? Dude, this is the ultimate—her body’s unreal, pussy’s so tight I can feel him through her. We’re living the fantasy right now.”

The three of you are synced up, a filthy machine—your cock plunging into her ass, thick and slow, stretching her wide; Minho’s hammering her pussy, fast and greedy, her slick coating his shaft; Jihoon’s fucking her mouth, his tip hitting her throat with every thrust, her gags and moans blending into this raw, desperate soundtrack. Her body’s on fire—sweat streaks down her spine, pooling at the small of her back, her thighs trembling against you, her hands clawing at Jihoon’s legs for balance.

She’s close—you can tell by the way her body’s starting to shake, her rhythm getting messy, her moans turning into these high, broken cries that Jihoon’s dick can’t fully muffle. You pick up your pace, slamming up into her ass, your hands gripping her cheeks, spreading them wide so you can watch your cock vanish inside her. “C’mon, Ji,” you mutter, voice rough, “let go—fucking cum for us.”

Minho feels it too, her pussy fluttering around him, and he leans forward, one hand sliding up to her tit, pinching her nipple hard. “Yeah, baby—cum on my cock, let me feel it,” he growls, hammering her faster, his balls slapping her skin, wet and loud.

Jihoon pulls out just enough to let her breathe, her face a wreck—cheeks flushed, mascara streaking, mouth open and panting. “Do it, Jihyo—fucking cum,” he says, voice low and urgent, stroking himself fast as he watches her unravel.

She’s teetering, her whole body tensing—then it hits. “Oh fuck—fuck, I’m—” Her words cut off into a scream, sharp and wild, her pussy clamping down on Minho so hard he hisses, his thrusts faltering for a second. Her ass locks around you, tighter than ever, pulsing like it’s trying to crush your cock, and you groan loud, hands digging into her flesh as you keep pounding through it. Her eyes roll back, mouth hanging open, spit dripping free as her whole body bucks and shakes, caught between you all.

“Shit, there it is,” Minho grunts, his hands sliding to her waist, holding her steady as he fucks her through it, her pussy gushing, soaking him, dripping down onto you. “Fuck—feels like she’s breaking me.”

You feel it too, the way her ass spasms, milking you with every clench, her body a live wire. “Told you—fucking unreal,” you say, voice strained, thrusting harder to chase her high, her cheeks rippling against your hips, the sound wet and obscene.

Jihoon’s watching, stroking himself, his cock twitching as she gasps and moans, her throat exposed, raw from his pounding. “Goddamn, look at her—cumming like a fucking slut on all of us,” he says, then he slides back into her mouth mid-moan, cutting her off, her lips closing around him as she sucks through the aftershocks, her tongue sloppy but eager.

Her orgasm’s ripping through her, relentless—her pussy’s flooding Minho, her ass gripping you so tight you can barely move, her cries vibrating through Jihoon’s cock. She’s thrashing now, caught in this wild, shuddering rhythm, her tits bouncing hard, sweat streaking down her spine, pooling at her lower back. You reach up, grab her shoulders, pull her down onto you harder, making her scream louder around Jak.

You keep your cock buried in Jihyo’s ass, her tight heat pulsing around you after her orgasm, her body slick with sweat and trembling like she’s barely holding it together. She’s sprawled over you, her ass cheeks jiggling with every slow, deep thrust you give her, while Minho’s pounding her pussy like a goddamn jackhammer, his cock slick with her juices, leaving a wet trail down his thighs. Jihoon is fucking her throat with these lazy, sloppy thrusts, her lips stretched wide.

Her climax has left her shaky, but you’re all too far gone to slow down—her pussy’s still spasming around Minho, her ass gripping you like it’s begging you to stay, and her moans are vibrating through Jihoon’s cock, raw and wrecked. You’re thrusting harder, excitement buzzing through you, your hands digging into her hips, feeling the heat build in your gut.

Minho’s grunting, his rhythm getting jagged, his hands leaving red welts on her waist. “Fuck, she’s still so tight—gonna lose it soon,” he pants, his cock plunging deep, her slick gushing out with every hit, soaking the mat. Jihoon’s not far behind, his jaw tight, sweat streaking down his neck as he pumps into her mouth, her throat bulging with every thrust. “Shit, man—her tongue’s working me over, I’m close,” he groans, his grip on her hair tightening, pulling her deeper.

you are close too, that electric rush creeping up, your cock throbbing in her ass, her walls clenching like they’re trying to milk you dry. “Ji,” you rasp, voice rough and ragged, “where you want it? Where you want our cum?” You slam up into her hard, making her yelp around Jihoon, her body jolting, ass rippling against you.

She pulls off Jihoon with a wet, gasping pop. “My face,” she chokes out, voice hoarse but dripping with need, “all of you—fucking blast it on my face.” Her eyes are wild, dark and desperate, locked on you like she’s starving for it.

You nod, pulling out of her ass with a slick, nasty sound, her hole gaping for a second before she scrambles off you, dropping to her knees on the mat between you, Minho, and Jihoon. She’s on the ground now, thighs spread, her pussy dripping onto the floor, tits heaving as she catches her breath. You’re all towering over her, cocks in hand, stroking fast, the air thick with tension and that musky, primal stench of sex. She looks up, smirking through the mess, her sweat-streaked hair sticking to her neck, and it’s like she’s daring you to ruin her.

You step up first, gripping your cock tight, the tip still slick from her ass. “Open up, Ji,” you say, and she does—parts her lips, sticks her tongue out flat, ready for you. She grabs your shaft with both hands, guiding you in, and fuck, she sucks you like it’s her last mission on earth. Her mouth’s hot, wet, sliding over you deep and slow, tongue swirling around the head, flicking at the slit till you’re hissing. Then she goes lower, popping off your cock to lick at your balls, sucking one into her mouth, rolling it with her tongue till it’s drooling with her spit. “Fuck—Jihyo, that’s it,” you groan, stroking the base as she works you, her dedication pushing you right to the edge.

Minho and Jihoon are stroking themselves hard, watching her with you, their breaths short and sharp. “Goddamn, she’s a fucking pro,” Minho mutters, his hand a blur on his thick cock, pre-cum beading at the tip. Jihoon’s grinning, his shaft twitching in his grip. “Look at her go—fucking Twice’s Jihyo, sucking him like she’s thirsty for it.”

She pulls off you, leaving your cock and balls dripping, spit stringing from her lips as she looks up at all three of you, her voice raw and filthy. “C’mon, boys—gimme your cum, fucking cover me, I want it all,” she begs, her tone pure cumslut, hands cupping her tits, pushing them up like a canvas. It’s obscene, the way she’s pleading, this K-pop queen on her knees, and it’s got you all buzzing, cocks throbbing, ready to explode.

Minho’s the first to break—he steps in, grunting like an animal, his hand flying over his shaft. “Fuck—here it comes, Ji,” he growls, aiming right at her face. His load hits hard, a thick, white rope blasting across her cheek, streaking up to her nose, dripping down to her parted lips. She moans, low and dirty, tongue darting out to catch what she can as another shot lands, splattering her forehead, sliding down to her eyebrow. It’s massive, heavy, coating her skin, some splashing onto her tits, streaking across her chest in messy, glistening trails.

Jihoon’s right on his heels, moving in close, his breath ragged. “Shit, Jihyo—open up,” he gasps, and she tilts her head, tongue out, catching his first shot as it arcs over her lips, pooling in her mouth. Another hits her other cheek, thick and hot, smearing across her chin, dripping down her neck in fat globs. She swallows what she caught, moaning soft, her eyes fluttering as it drips off her jaw onto her tits, mixing with Minho’s load, turning her chest into a sticky, white mess.

You’re last, your hand a blur, the sight of her—begging, drenched—pushing you over. “Here it is, Ji—fucking take it,” you say, voice tight, aiming at her face. It hits like a fucking firehose—a fat, pulsing shot right across her nose, bridging over her tongue, then another, coating her lips and chin, dripping thick and slow. It’s endless, heavy, splattering off her jaw onto her tits, blending with the others till she’s a goddamn cum-soaked masterpiece, skin shining, chest heaving.

She sighs, this deep, satisfied sound, her face a canvas of chaos—cheeks plastered, forehead dripping, lips smeared, all of it pooling and sliding down her neck, her tits a slick, cum-streaked mess. She smiles, slow and smug, like she’s just conquered the world, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips, savoring the taste. “Fuck, you guys—look at this,” she murmurs, hands sliding up to her chest, smearing the cum across her tits, rubbing it into her nipples, making them glisten. It’s insane, the way she’s basking in it, this idol turned cum-drenched fantasy, and you’re all just staring, panting, cocks still twitching.

She’s not done—she leans in, grabbing your cock first, licking the sensitive tip slow and deliberate, sucking off the last drops, making you shudder hard. “Mmm,” she hums, moving to Minho, her tongue flicking over his head, tasting what’s left, leaving it slick with her spit. Jihoon’s next, and she gives him the same, lapping at him like a cat, her eyes half-lidded, drunk on the filth. “So fucking good,” she whispers, sitting back on her heels, her hands scooping the cum off her face—thick, gooey strands—spreading it over her cheeks, her chin, her tits, till she’s coated, glistening, a total fucking wreck.

You’re all wrecked too, chests heaving, the mat a disaster—sweat, cum, her juices everywhere, the air heavy with it. She looks up, grinning, her face a work of art, painted white and dripping, and you can’t believe this is Jihyo—Twice’s leader, now your cum-soaked secret, kneeling there, satisfied as hell. “Fucking perfect,” she says, wiping a finger through the mess on her chest and sucking it clean, her smile wicked, like she’s just won the dirtiest game imaginable. You’re all just standing there, exhausted, awestruck, watching her revel in it, this moment burned into your brains forever.

The storage room’s now a fucking crime scene—sweat, cum, and the echoes of pure filth still hanging in the air as you all come down from the high. You glance at each other—Minho wiping his forehead, Jihoon running a hand through his damp hair—and there’s this unspoken agreement that you can’t just walk out like this.

“Shower time,” you say, voice rough but casual, pushing yourself up off the mat. Your shorts are halfway across the room, crumpled in a heap, and you grab them, not bothering to put them on yet. Jihyo sits up, stretching, her tits jiggling as she moves, cum still dripping down her chest in slow, sticky trails. “Yeah, I need to wash this off,” she laughs, wiping her face with the back of her hand, smearing it more than cleaning it, then she starts to pick up her clothes scattered on the floor. Minho and Jihoon nod, grabbing their own gear, and you all head for the gym’s locker room, a quiet buzz of exhaustion and satisfaction trailing you.

The showers are down the hall, past the empty weight racks and cardio machines, the gym eerily quiet now that it’s late. You each peel off what’s left of your clothes—your shorts, their gym tanks—and pile them on a bench. The water kicks on with a hiss, steam rising fast as you step under separate showerheads, the cold tile a shock against your feet. The hot spray hits you first, pounding your shoulders, washing away the sweat and grime, the faint ache in your muscles melting under the heat.

Jihyo’s in the next stall over, her silhouette visible through the frosted glass divider, water cascading down her curves, sluicing the cum off her skin. You hear her hum, soft and low, some Twice melody she’s probably sung a thousand times, and it’s almost surreal—minutes ago she was begging for your loads, now she’s showering like it’s just another day. Minho’s scrubbing his arms, soap suds bubbling up, muttering, “Fuck, I needed this.” Jihoon’s across from him, water pounding his back, grinning like an idiot. “Best shower of my life.”

You soap up, lathering your chest, your junk, feeling the grime slip away, the hot water working miracles. Your legs are still buzzing from holding Jihyo up, your arms sore from gripping her tight, but you’re refreshed, lighter, like the shower’s washing away more than just the sweat. You rinse off, the water turning cloudy for a sec as the last of it swirls down the drain, and step out, grabbing a towel from the stack by the wall. It’s rough, gym-issued, but it does the job—drying your hair, your back, your balls—till you’re dripping less and feeling human again.

Jihyo steps out next, towel wrapped loose around her, water still beading on her shoulders, her hair slicked back dark and wet, the sneakers already on. She looks fucking radiant, cheeks flushed from the heat, skin glowing like she didn’t just get railed by three guys in a storage closet. Minho and Jihoon follow, towels slung over their shoulders, shorts back on, hair damp and messy. You all linger for a minute, the steam curling around you, the vibe easy but charged, like you’ve all shared something monumental—and you have.

Minho and Jihoon glance at each other, then at Jihyo. “Be right back,” Minho says, jerking his chin toward the staff room down the hall. “Gotta handle something.” They duck out, leaving you and Jihyo alone for a sec. She’s drying her arms, smirking at you, and you lean against the locker, watching her. “You good?” you ask, casual but real.

She nods, grinning. “Better than good. That was fucking wild.” Her towel slips a little, showing the curve of her tit, and you catch it but don’t stare—professional, sort of. “You guys are something else.”

Before you can reply, Minho and Jihoon are back, stepping in with this chill energy. Minho’s got his hands in his pockets, Jihoon’s rubbing the back of his neck. “All clear,” Minho says, looking at Jihyo. “Security footage—wiped it clean. No trace of anything. You’re safe.”

Her shoulders relax, a little breath slipping out. “Fuck, thank you—seriously. If that got out…” She trails off, shaking her head, but then smiles, big and bright. “You guys are lifesavers.”

Jihoon laughs, leaning against the wall. “Nah, you’re the legend here. That was unreal—like, thank you. Never thought I’d be saying that to Park Jihyo after… well, that.”

Minho nods, smirking. “Yeah, hands down the craziest shit I’ve ever been part of. You’re fucking incredible.”

“Well, good news—we can do it again sometime. I’m down if you guys are.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, a grin tugging at your lips. “Oh, hell yeah, I’m in. No question.” Minho and Jihoon are quick to agree—Minho with a “Fuck yes,” Jihoon with a “Count me in, any day.”

“It was unforgettable,” Jihyo says, her voice softer now, reflective. “Like, I’m still buzzing from it. By far one of my best experiences.” Then she removes the towel, not caring about the presence of either of you and begins to get dressed, she opens one of the lockers to take out the bag she stored there earlier and takes out a hoodie, putting it on over her gym clothes. After finishing, she adjusts her bag on her shoulder, ready to head out, but there’s this glow about her—exhausted but alive.

You sling your own bag over your shoulder, stepping closer. “You know, Ji, this is a hell of a way to boost your stamina. You were a fucking beast today—killed it. I’m telling you, a few more rounds like this, and you’ll be unstoppable on stage. Choreo won’t stand a chance.”

She laughs, loud and bright, the sound bouncing off the lockers. “Oh, you think this is my new training regimen? Fuck cardio—give me three cocks and a storage room, right?” She’s joking, but there’s a spark in her eye like she’s half-serious. “Honestly, though—if this is what it takes to get tireless, sign me up. I felt like I could go all night.”

Minho smirks, grabbing his keys off the bench. “Shit, you basically did. Your dance trainer gonna wonder why you’re suddenly out-dancing everyone.”

Jihoon’s already at the door, turning back with a grin. “Yeah, tell her you’ve got a secret weapon—three trainers putting you through the ultimate workout.”

You all crack up, the vibe loose and easy now. Jihyo adjusts her hoodie, pulling the hood up, ready to slip out unnoticed. “For real, though,” she says, looking at you, then Minho, then Jihoon, “you guys are the best. Let’s make it a thing—whenever the schedule’s clear, we’re back here.”

“Deal,” you say, fist-bumping her, the others following suit. “Next time, we’ll push you even harder—stamina training, level two.”

She winks, stepping out into the hall, her voice echoing back. “Can’t wait, boys. See you in the next session.” You watch her go, that sway in her hips still lethal, then head out yourselves, the night air cool against your skin, a fresh contrast to the heat you’ve just left behind. You’re all grinning, buzzing, already counting the days till round two with the goddess Jihyo—your dirty little secret, and the best damn workout of your lives.

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