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fillinforlater · 11 months ago

Text

Maknae Royale

Male Reader x Jang Wonyoung, Wang Yiren, Lee Gahyeon, Park Sujin (Swan), Jeon Somi, Shin Yuna, Kim Yerim (Yeri), Im Yeojin (9some)

Length: 10.000 words

Tags: live action porn, porn game, fucking for points, Team Battle Royale, squirting kink, edging kink, bimbofication, brat taming, doggy, fingering, face riding, blue balling, jerking you off, titfuck, standing sex, step-bro I'm stuck, anal, creampie, anal creampie, eating out, blowjob, face fucking, deep throat, rough sex, missionary, full nelson, against the wall, piledriver, mating press, overstimulation, porn_star!you / porn_rookies!idols

TW: even after editing, this is messy and chaotic and pure sex lol

Inspiration: the idea of a Maknae focused fic is not new, but I just went all in. This is also based on this vote I send out a while ago lol. I think I can name drop @writerpeach cuz I remember him saying sth like that.

Credit: @erospandemos for the cover art! Thabk you very much!

(A/N: One year after C.Ollection, I'm trying my best to celebrate and repeat that craziness, have fun! The beginning is a reference to Labyrinth of the Six. This is the same universe but not a sequel!)

"I was looking for copper and I found gold!"

You turn off the purring engine of your car. It is clearly not as nice as the purring of the girl you were in balls deep mere minutes ago, but let's be honest, those purrs should not be compared; one is mechanical, the other borderline maniacal. You let out a sigh as you kill the annoying lights in your car to focus on the call you just accepted.

"Hi, is this really how you're greeting me?" you respond, letting your fingers glide over the steering wheel as you watch a single car pass by in the middle of this warm, humid night.

"Oh, man, stop complaining!" the director says and laughs. You can hear him type something on an old keyboard, each tap of his fingers obnoxiously loud. "I'm going to give you the opportunity of a lifetime—something this great, it needs no greeting."

You rub your nose, then the inside of your eyes filled with tiredness and exhaustion. She was needy tonight, you gave her two rounds, 140 minutes of a hard pounding until the clock struck a merciless 3am. Yes, you were counting the minutes, it was necessary. Otherwise Jiwon’s cunt would have drained you early, which is unbecoming of a porn actor of your caliber.

"Look," you halt the director's enthusiasm with a groan. "I'm doing good right now. Money—I got enough; my love-life is good too. Maybe I'll take a break for a couple of months until my next—"

"No, listen!" he shouts in absolute excitement, like he has been enlightened by the truth. "This script, it's so fucking good! It lit a fire in me, I can already see the setting, the actresses, you—it's perfect. This can even top your Labyrinth performance—you remember, the six hotties—"

"Of course I do!" There you go. Your heart beat is picking up in tempo. How could you forget the pleasure, the absolute thrill of having sex with six gorgeous women at the same time? Don’t kid yourself, this already felt like one in a million—to flat out reject another offer that could be of this magnitude would be absolutely foolish. “Fuck it. Send me the script, I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh, you will,” the director says, absolutely certain that you will accept in a heartbeat after reading this ominous script. “I’ll start looking for actresses.”

The script is complex, wild, otherworldly—implementing it took weeks of preparation. Luckily, your part in this clusterfuck is rather simple: be hard, go hard and stay hard. The first two are deeply rooted within you. Seeing the girls’ incredible faces and even greater bodies has you ready to get a raging erection at any time, while some of their slutty mannerisms and lewd words dripping from their tongues like venomous drool urge you to go as hard and rough as you can. Hell, they’ll basically beg for you—why would you hold back?

The only issue is that there are too many of them. No matter how hot they are or how horny you are, at some point there is nothing left. You will be drained and there is no shame in admitting defeat to them. So once again, you’ll have to resort to some performance enhancers to stay hard like a diamond while drilling into cave after cave. It’s a pink pill this time, tiny, you barely notice it, both in the palm of your hand and in your throat. Take a deep breath and feel it surely doing its job already.

You open your eyes in the midst of a studio room that looks like a submarine. Dim light, large, black holes around you, each with a large porthole-like door in the middle; it feels gloomy, mysterious, unsettling. A single camera is pointed at you, live streaming each droplet of sweat running down your face. Feel the artificial warmth of a nearby heater creep up your thin clothes, giving you chills. It cannot match the heat within you.

The red light atop the camera turns off. Sixty seconds from now, one of the portholes will open. The glass in them is blurry, obscuring any view of the chaos happening behind them. You of course know the script inside out, but the girls’ are still somewhat unknown. You’ve never seen them face to face, only in zoom calls, their bodies looked fantastic and because they are rookies, they should also be tight, but you don’t know how they will handle the pressure, all the eyes on them, the revealing outfits, the unbridled sex—

Around thirty seconds now. You grab your trousers and feel blood rushing out of your legs. Feet tingle, the tips of your fingers as well. This pill, it has your heart racing somewhere, racing from something, to anything. Eyes tremble, vision blurrier than the glass before you, behind you, around you.

You’ve never felt more alive and dead at the same time.

With a loud hiss, the porthole to your left swings open, wide open, flooding your entirely empty room with copious amounts of fog and the smell of fresh fruits. The vibrant color scheme of pastel pink, magenta, light purple and white fills your view as you step into what looks like Princess Peach’s private castle, its kitchen, living room and bedroom. It’s like one explosion of cuteness and innocence, quite charming, very fake.

“Oh, he’s already here. Look, Barbie!”

“That’s not my name, Yiren. Hello, handsome stranger!”

The two girls fit the concept of the room perfectly. Such bright smiles, happiness pouring from their cute little faces; you knew they would nail this performance the moment you saw their pictures and heard their voices. Wonyoung, the tall girl with her incredibly long legs truly looks like a Barbie doll: tiny ribbons adorn her endless chocolate hair while the pink crop top and straight denim skirt make you want to play with her all night, undress her everywhere.

Yiren on the other hand blends in with the room to such a degree, you’d assume they cannot be sold separately. The chinese girl boasts hair the color of peaches, her tight white dress sparkles because of small, silver details spread across it, while her face leaves no doubt that she is, in fact, a princess.

The two get closer to you, before Wonyoung starts to speak up again, her voice in a sassy, yet genuinely adorable pitch.

“Aw, are you shy? No need to be, we’re all here to have fun. Isn’t that right, Yiren?”

“You’re right, Barbie. Let’s play some games and make it a night we won’t forget,” Yiren adds, quieter and calmer than Wonyoung, with a smile that warms the heart.

“S-sure,” you respond to the two girls bouncing up and down in front of you like hyped up kangaroos. “B-but what are we going to play?”

“You see,” Wonyoung starts. “Yiren and I are a team and we have a mission to fulfill. Can you help us?”

“I’d love to, but what is the mission?”

Yiren turns towards Wonyoung, who’s already grinning at her. They share a nod and Yiren suddenly wraps herself around one of your arms, while Wonyoung occupies the other. Feel their slender bodies rub on your limbs, their natural heat and rapid heartbeats working towards your own, increasing it with every step they guide you towards a bed in the corner of the room. It’s at least double queensized, filled with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

“Let me explain it to you,” Wonyoung says and climbs atop the purple sheets. “Our mission is to make this bed as wet as possible.”

“Well that sounds easy,” you respond. “Just get some tap water and dump it on here.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yiren whispers in your ear and suddenly places her hands all over your back and chest.

“No tap water, only natural juices are allowed,” Wonyoung hums and her hands casually open her skirt. It falls on the bed and she is quick to kick it away. She looks even more tempting and ruinable in her tiny tight panties with a wet teddy bear on the front. “We need your help to get these juices out of us, pretty please?”

“Yes, pretty please?” Yiren adds and cups the bulge in your pants. “It will be so much fun, I promise. Doesn’t Barbie look tight? Don’t you want to fuck her until she bursts?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Splendid,” Wonyoung laughs and throws away her crop top as well. Meanwhile Yiren finds the hem of your pants and tugs them down oh-so easily, the only resistance is your hard member, which Yiren promptly points at her team partner who has her legs spread invitingly.

She’s so hot.

As if she read your mind, Yiren tempts you into finally going hard:

“She looks so hot. Go fuck her.”

Like a tiger desperate for food, you crawl onto the bed and tackle your prey into a mountain of teddy bears. Your fingers find the very specific teddy bear on Wonyoung’s panties, you push it to the side to find a pink slit. A final look at her glistening eyes before you press your cock onto her equally glistening slit and after some adjustments, you enter her.

Wonyoung shrieks cutely, her thin fingers wrap around your biceps’ and she holds onto them as you start to slowly pump into her. The two of you need time to realize where you are, what you’re doing, how you’re doing it. All acting for the camera is gone in this bliss, at least for a couple of seconds. Then it all comes back with Yiren, eagerly who jumps on the bed as well.

“You need to hurry up, we don’t have forever.”

You slip a hand under Yiren’s dress to quickly shut her up. No panties.

“How about you start helping, princess,” you fight back. “Go rub Wonyoung’s clit while you ride my fingers. Oh, and Wonyoung.”

“Ye-yes?” the young girl moans.

“Open your mouth wide. I need you to drool on these.”

Both Yiren’s pussy lips and Wonyoung’s normal lips—though their lusciousness and thickness is far from mere ‘normal’—part as soon as your fingers graze them. The latter is quick to slobber all over them while you recklessly pump them into her; Yiren still has reservations and instead opts to look at you with adorable glassy eyes.

“I-I feel so full,” she moans, shivers throughout her entire body. You softly smile at her and start to curl your fingers, purposefully dragging them alongside her walls while your palm reaches her clit. “Ah, i-it feels—”

Holy shit. Whatever chemical they put into this pill, it has a tendency to just kill your patience. In what can only be described as a loss of all control, your body only moves towards fulfilling the mission. Your fingers start to violently pump into Yiren’s pussy and Wonyoung’s mouth, both quickly spilling liquids out of them. Especially Wonyoung, the Barbie girl below you, becomes a dispenser of juices when you violently fuck into her tight pussy.

“Too fast, ah!” Yiren screams, her hands wrapped around your wrist, unable to prevent the surge of lust in your body.

“Fuck, sorry. I can’t stop me.” You groan, not really sorry about the stuff happening to you, to them and—oh God! Wonyoung’s tiny frame, those cute hard abs, get bulged by your massive erection. A bit of skin and muscles, pushed up by your relentless thrusts, and she is also seeing it. Is she panicking, losing her mind to how you violate almost her entire body?

Her pussy is quick to give you an answer: like a broken, public fountain, she shoots water at you, suddenly soaking your body in her warm pussy juices. With their strong, lewd smell they are the perfect liquid to stain the sheets, more than your balls or her drool can produce. Much to your dismay, most of the nectar gets stuck on you.

“Fuck, turn around,” you command the thin fuckdoll and because she is too enamored by her heavy orgasm—her tiny thighs and long legs trembling up high in the air—you grab her hips and spin her around. Now in Doggy, you keep her upright by pulling her chestnut colored hair and plunge back into her still twitching cunt.

Wonyoung is completely overwhelmed. Instead of the cute, girlie moans you’d expect from her pretty lips, she grunts uncontrollably, her voice still hoarse from your fingers that played with her mouth. The grunts, however, are nothing compared to the wet sounds coming from her pussy as you thrust into the warm cavern, desperate to get more out of it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” both you and Wonyoung groan. The tips of her fingers dig deep into a soft stuffed toy while yours knead her soft butt. The sight of it is amazing; not a big dumpy, like you’ve seen on countless actresses, but so flawlessly smooth with an impossibly tiny asshole you one day need to get your tongue into.

“Pl-please, me-me too.”

Yiren crawls closer to you, her skirt pulled up, her cunt a leaking mess that needs something inside it. The live action fucking in front of her has her on the edge, ready to do her part to fulfill the mission, but you are too mesmerized by Wonyoung.

“Wony, lick her pussy. Get your tongue into her, fuck!” you shout, lost in your frenzy.

The barely thinking, barely functioning Barbie gets her hands onto Yiren’s thighs, at first only breathing, hissing, moaning into the princess’ crotch. It’s enough for Yiren to finally take the lead, forcing Wonyoung’s face straight onto her puffy lips, and the younger surrenders. She kisses and licks all over Yiren’s delicious cunt, the bundle of nerves atop it never left out. Yiren shudders.

“Oh God, oh Go~d, fuck!”

Yiren is louder than a fucking bomb when she explodes onto Wonyoung’s face and more importantly, the bed. Her nectar splashes all over the sheets, their color darkening beneath her knees. Finally, the three of you have made significant progress, and you are eager to make more. Especially Wonyoung seems to be more turned on than before; her pussy is even tighter, her walls ripple as she continues to eat Yiren out.

“You like that, huh? Your face deep in her pussy?” you ask her and give her cute ass a firm spank. “Such a dirty princess!”

“Yesh!” Wonyoung shouts, pressing her behind into your pistoning cock.

“You like my cock fucking you senseless, getting into your insides? You want it all, deeper?”

“Yesh, pleash!”

“Try to push me out, Wonyoung, squeeze me with your stupid little pussy!”

“Ah, shit, fuck! I’m—”

Yiren shuts her team partner up by grinding on her face. It’s enough to send Wonyoung into an orgasmic frenzy—again—and the moment you pull out, she squirts—again—everywhere. It was amazing, absolute bliss for you, but you are not there yet. You need to cum, inside a hot, clenching hole and so you disrupt the two princess’ love making.

Yiren fits perfectly into your hand. She is almost as light as Wonyoung, so you pick her up and place her on the head of the bed. The young woman is still frozen in surprise, her eyes uncertain, then shocked when you spread her legs wide and align your cock with her pussy.

“Oh God, it’s t-too big,” she whines even before you’re inside her.

“You can take it, Yiren, you’re such a good and pretty princess,” you mindlessly groan as you stare at her, then her nipple peeking out above her increasingly bunched up dress. “Now cum all over me.”

Yiren is too easy. Only a few strokes of your cock alongside her velvety walls and her entire body ripples. It starts with her cunt, soon goes to her torso and limbs, before she squirts like a broken garden hose. If the bed was a garden, countless flowers would bloom in it—and Wonyoung wants to make sure you stay to help them.

“You have to stay,” she whines. “Stay inside her and make her cum again.” She pushes you, forces you to almost slip inside Yiren again. From the corner of your eye however you see a red light, the indicator that you have to switch scenes right now.

“I think I did enough.” You pull away Wonyoung’s slender arms and Yiren’s feet trying to get you back inside her. “Get some toys or use your fingers. I’m not playing for your team, you need to play together.”

Yeah, sure, something like that was in the script. Luckily, even these two remember that the show must go on. At least Wonyoung does. The Barbie gets handsy, waving you goodbye while plunging her beautiful, long fingers into Yiren's cunt. What a waste that you won’t cum on those digits tonight.

"Have fun~" Wonyoung cheers as you disappear from her view, towards the next porthole which is already open.

Before you can take in the next setting fully, a nude, masked woman greets you by pulling your face down into her sizable cleavage.

"Quick, get him in here," another voice, feminine yet deep, straightforward yet mysterious, calls and you feel hands all over your body, as they drag you into the room. You only catch glimpses of its interior, a dark, unsettling dungeon with iron bars and cold, smooth walls, akin to the setting of certain Japanese videos you—a friend of yours—used to watch—for scientific reasons.

"Here, pin him down."

That voice just now is truly incredible, if only you could see who it belongs to. Unluckily, you only get to see the ceiling as four hands throw you onto a table. Those two are strong, you think, because your back hurts at the impact.

Suddenly, your view gets replaced by a smooth pussy and jiggly thighs trapping your head on the wooden surface. You take deep breaths, the strong smell of arousal quickly filling your nose. A finger boldly flicks your cockhead.

"Oh, you're really turning him on, Gah," the other woman says, your pulsating cock in her fist. "Ride his face, and I think we’ll get our first points soon."

"Wh-who are you?" you barely squeeze out, words drowned out by drowning in Gahyeon's pussy juice.

"I'm Swan, but we don't have time for that. We need to win this game, which is why you have to suffer.

"Sorry, by the way."

Before you can respond, Swan's fist goes up and down your length with the violence and speed of a raging tiger, ready to fucking destroy you. Tears spawn in your eyes, precum at your tip. She drives you to the edge and keeps you there with rhythmic pumps while you imagine her face in horny delight.

"Is he there yet?" Gahyeon asks, her voice raspy and cruel.

"Why don't you ask him?" Swan responds and twirls her tongue around your balls. You twitch.

Gahyeon lifts a leg and her deadly eyes stare through a terrifying mask right at you. "Tell me when you're about to explode,” she snarks and to put emphasis on her following words, she presses a long finger nail into your abdomen. “If not, I'll kill you.

“And start licking, for fucks sake.”

She plants herself back down before you can answer. She can live with your eager tongue on her thick folds as an analogical agreement. Through Gahyeon’s almost soundproof thighs you hear her passionate groans and Swan’s continuous spitting in her hands and on your cock to get you wet and ready for more of her soft hands.

You can’t deny that they are excellent. Yiren and Wonyoung both had tight, cozy holes, but something about Swan grabbing your dick and mercilessly pumping and twisting it makes your spine tingle. She quickly gets you to arch your back and moan into Gahyeon’s pussy, which has started to glide back and forth over your visage.

“Such a nice cock,” Swan moans. “Look at it, Gah! The head is already burning, I can feel that he’s close.”

Swan puts her second hand on your base and presses her lubed up palm on your underside while she starts to destroy your tip with violent pumps. She is a vicious succubus, trying to get your seed out efficiently without care for your sensitivity. With Gahyeon using your face like a saddle, your mind is left on hold when you loudly tap the table to signal your imminent arrival.

“Swan, now!”

The moment Gahyeon shouts, Swan is gone. No more delicate fingers to hold you, no more fists to jerk you, nothing to stimulate you. You thrust your hips up into air, unable to cum, unable to get your well-deserved release. Those fleeting seconds where you want only one thing are absolutely ruined by not getting this one thing—and then it’s over. You come back down with a devastated sigh.

“That’s one,” Gahyeon says and looks down at you in between her legs. “But we need more.”

“I agree,” Swan says, adjusting her position in between your shivering legs. “Get him to cooperate, I’ll do the rest.”

Gahyeon once again is faster than your attempts at remonstration. She puts her small hand on your throat and carefully increases the amount of weight on it. You gasp in dread before Swan places your still hard cock in the valley of her enormous tits. The valley then turns to a compressed trap where only your glans peeks out.

'Oh fuck', you want to, need to scream but it's futile with Gahyeon's enthusiasm to rub her labia on your lips. Swan shows a very similar need to torture you, her hands eagerly digging into the flesh of her melons and moving them up and down—both at the same time, then at different times, faster, then slower but with more pressure—is she trying to get you killed?

Death by titfuck. That will be an eyecatching epitaph.

"Do it faster," Gahyeon orders her teammate emphatically. "We need to get the score up."

"I know," Swan says, her voice a bit strained. "It's just unfair, you know? Getting him ready again and all that. But I think, fuck, we’re getting there. Look at his tip, isn't it cute?"

Swan licks the slit on your cockhead, cleaning the precum from it and you have to tap out again. You are so close once more, but a terrible gut feeling lets you doubt that you will cover Swan's tits with your cream. You’ve never felt so sick about being right, when she pops you free from the heavens between her large breasts.

They are right there, God dammit.

"That's number two!" Swan gleefully shouts and looks at your pole, pointing at the sky, sensitive and ready to explode, but your balls turn blue again. This can't be healthy, with how frustrated it makes you.

"Use your mouth this time, Swan—"

"Oh yeah? Why don't you do something for once?"

"Huh? We agreed on this earlier! I'm doing my part! Look, he can't even say a word."

"Pl-please," you interrupt the girls' discussion. "Let me, please, let me cum already!"

"Sorry, pal." Swan's voice is soft, and her tongue on your dick is even softer. "But we need to ruin you even more. That's how we're going to win."

"Th-then ruin your own orgasms," you plead with numbness in your mouth, caused by Swan's mouth on your barely numb manhood. "Th-this is cruel."

"He's got a point," Gahyeon thinks out loud. "Ah, fuck this game. If you can get me close, boy, I'll let you escape."

This might be your only chance to get out of this vicious cycle of ruined orgasm and painful edging. So you actually channel all your focus of your lips, tongue and teeth—whatever Gahyeon likes—on her clit. It's surprisingly easy to make her thighs around your ears squirm; Gahyeon's pussy is now wetter than Swan's mouth wrapped around your cockhead.

Suddenly, Swan gives you everything. She forces you to bottom out in her mouth, grow to full hardness once more while she violently gags. She might have been in absolute control over you for the last couple of minutes, but she is perfectly able to make her mouth a slutty hole for your cock. A soft, dominant deepthroat queen with massive tits—she is going to be a super star.

In a surge of ecstasy, fueled by Gahyeon's sweet juice, you buckle your hips upwards and force Swan to choke a little longer on your length. The young woman is not irritated however. After a single breathe she is back to going up and down you cock, sucking along it until your fucking dead.

You know she's going to ruin it again and the only way to pay them back is by ruining Gahyeon's orgasm as well. You finger the pussy above you and quickly flick the blood-filled lips and nub, until she cries out. Then you stop, then Swan stops. She is the only one satisfied—another two points for her team.

You blink a couple of times. Gahyeon, groaning like an enraged bull, has the busty Swan pinned to the metal bars of this dungeon and with all her hatred, slaps the younger's wet cunt.

"Now it's your turn, bitch!"

"Ouch, stop!"

"No. I want to win and you want to win too, so you better ruin yourself on my fingers. Now!"

This is your cue to leave. The dungeon fills with Swan's deep grunts and groans as she finally gets to witness what she put you through again and again and again. You'd love to help Gahyeon; there will be no need for it though. The masked girl is willing to do whatever is necessary to win.

Across from the dungeon, the second to last door is already open. The room mimics a dimly lit laundromat with a dozen or so washing machines. You step inside, cock in your carefully stroking hand. After all, you’ll have to be hard for the next scene, which will be the complete opposite of the last.

“Hello? Can somebody help me?” someone cries (let’s be honest, it’s much closer to a desperate moan) from behind a pile of freshly dried laundry atop a clothes rack. There is a sincere lack of intelligence in that cry, like said person is unable to help themselves. Makes you feel chivalrous.

“Hey, how can I—help you?”

The sight you find behind the pile has your speech a bit halted, interrupted by how, in a room made for washing clothes, someone is severely lacking them: A gorgeous, busty blonde, in nothing but modest, white underwear, though you notice that the bra is at least a size too small and unable to fully carry the weight of her tits.

"Oh, please help me," she moans again. "I think I've picked the wrong bra for me. Can you help me cover so no one can see my boobies while I look for the next?"

What the fuck? This is so fucking stupid on so many levels. How could she—and why would she suggest—what is even happening? The cliche about blondes must be true, because this one is not only dumb as fuck, but also hotness at it's peak. From bust to bottom, no, even to her toes, her body is amazing and tempting.

"Uhm, sure, why not. Can I know your name first?" you politely ask while not so politely getting behind her and cupping her breasts.

"I'm Somi. Thank God your hands are so big, no one can see my boobies now, hihi."

Is it innate for her to sound this silly? If not for this setting, you’d be worried; no human can ever be this stupid, only a buffoon would act in such a way. But maybe Somi’s IQ is just a bit lower than the average person—or maybe she knows no boundaries? The rules of public decency and inappropriate, sexual exposure might be foreign to her? You don’t know. You just know that her boobs are soft and bouncy, two handfuls of pillows to rest your head upon, of stress balls to knead when you are, you know, stressed.

You seem to know a lot more than her, especially because she still tries to find a bra able to hold up her breasts in the midst of clothes which all have two things in common: they are colorful and they are skimpy. It’s like the laundry of a whorehouse with how many short and skin tight skirts, dresses, fishnet stockings you find, let alone the short tops or all the lingerie. Speaking of which, Somi has finally found a bikini top that might be able to do the deed your hands are gleefully doing.

“Do you think this one is good?” she asks, holding up a new, purple bra while you slightly press at the bottom of her tits to watch them wobble on your finger tips.

“Try it out, because I’m not so sure with your massive boobs.”

Somi giggles and tries to put on the bra. You leave enough room, really, you do, for her to tie up the thin strands, but Somi is unable to. She mewls a couple of times before you go in and securely tie up the strands yourself. You are promptly rewarded, because the blonde decides to bend down and press her ass back against your crotch, your exposed cock, rapidly hard again at the touch of her cotton panties.

“Thank you, again,” Somi says and pushes her chest up for all to see. “What do you think, is this good?”

“Somi, is it possible that you are fucking stupid?” Oh, that sounded a lot harsher than it should have. The tension is quickly palpable. You hear someone gasp from the other end of the room.

“W-why?” Somi’s question is abashed, a bit shocked; even in this state of complete bimboness, she still looks so good.

“Because these bottoms don’t fit your top,” you say and pull at the side of her panties until they snap off of her hips. “You should change them. White and purple don’t fit together all too well.”

Somi looks down at her cleavage, the purple lace engulfing her tits, then to her thighs which have been parted by your cock. The tip peaks from in between her legs and you softly groan out the pleasure her perfect gap gives you into her ear. There is no mere hint of slickness from her heat, there are ridiculous amounts of evidence of it, proof spreading all over. It’s a clear case of horniness, you better resolve the issue immediately.

“You’re right,” Somi mumbles, thighs swaying. “I should look for the right bottoms. They should be in here.” Things couldn’t get any better, because now Somi is bending over, hands in the pile of clothes, while your hands are in the plentifulness of her ass. You hold her steady, align your cock with a hole that looks so ready to get fucked and then push forward. Somi almost stumbles forward, but you save her from making an even greater mess of this place by continuing to make a mess out of her.

“Oh God,” she moans, a pink crop top in hands. “I-I can’t find it.”

“Continue, continue searching,” you groan back and slam your hips forward, then backwards, your cock entering and exiting her cunt at will—your will is strong, overpowering every small exhaustion in chase of that first true release of this messy pornographic shoot, a shoot where teams fight to win, yet this “team” does not even have a target goal.

Somi’s goal is to be stupid, oblivious to your cock gaping her pussy open time and time again, and for this being her first time on cam, she is excellent. Of course, her dumb moans can’t be deactivated, you doubt even a ball gag can fully do that, but a benevolent interpretation of this scene allows for these moans to be of desperation. Somi just really wants to find these purple bikini bottoms—your cock spreading her pussy and the camera lens on it is just a side product.

“Da-damnit, fuck,” Somi seems to give up, defeatedly grabbing the edge of the table while you hold onto her shoulders to get faster, deeper inside of her. “They are not h-here.”

“Maybe you need to take a step back and look at it from afar,” you tell her and all it takes is a pull at her shoulders and Somi stands straight up. From now on, your thrusts go upwards and Somi can casually bounce along while her dizzy eyes try to process the color purple amidst a pile so colorful, every pride parade would become envious.

Your arms instinctively wrap around Somi’s small waist. You need to keep her here, can’t let her get away, not when you are this close to finally cumming. Your balls are aching, your tip is stimulated and you know that it will be glorious. Somi’s body, from a face that could make news just for its beauty, paired with a pair of perky, large boobs, amplified by a tight, muscular midriff, killer hips and strong, full thighs, she has to be everyone’s type.

People will click on her videos millions of times, yet you are about to be the first to cream her, you can call dibs on that pussy, no male rival co-star stands a chance. Your cock is ready, your legs able to give more power into the final thrusts when suddenly—

“Oh, I found it!”

—Somi leans forward, hand stretched out, ready to grab what has always been on top of this entire pile, in your view forever, in everyone’s view forever, only Somi took forever to find it: purple panties. No, they can’t ruin your perfect orgasm. You heartlessly push Somi against the table, head first into the laundry. Her scream now muffled by a dozen of clothes in her face, you manically fuck your load into her doggy until cum floods her cavern and clothes flood the laundromat floor.

Every part of you is twitching, so is Somi and her pussy. A bit more, a bit more, she squeezes out of you, but she is full. In the midst of all this chaos, this silly, flushed bitch was able to grab the panties. You give her tits a harsh slap to awaken her from the cock induced slumber.

“Put them on, quick, before we make a bigger mess.”

Somi obliges, though shaky. You help her by holding onto her hips, her tits, all those things you could grab forever. When your shaft falls out of her pussy and you watch her catch most of your load with the tight panties, you want to push them to the side and just fuck her full pussy again. That’s when you notice someone down the aisle of washing machines—is it Somi’s teammate?

“Who the fuck is th—”

“Help, I’m stuck!”

This one is a classic. A trope so beyond stereotypical, everyone knows it. Just like the dumb blonde, this one can be found on every porn site ever. The only thing missing is that she calls you stepbro. That would be a bit too much though. Her ass sticking out of one of the washing machines while she absolutely tries to get back out of it is already cliche enough to you.

Oh yeah, she’s also completely naked.

“Oh no, Yuna is stuck!” Somi states the exposition for the viewer, who is utterly uninvolved in the engaging plot they stopped paying attention to since this video's thumbnail. “We need to help her!”

Somi waddles towards her partner. You see trails of cum running down her legs, unceremoniously dropping to the floor and making a lewd, sticky mess of it. She seems unbothered, just like you, and the camera absolutely loves it. The view then switches from this to a new, exposed and impressively large ass.

“Help, help,” Yuna shouts again, metallic reverberation unable to dampen the stupidness in her voice. You had filmed a scene like this one already, but there are no complaints whatsoever. As long as you can get your hands on Yuna’s ass, pull those cheeks apart and get the first view of those two smooth, clean holes, why would you complain?

“How did this happen, Yuna?” Somi asks worriedly, arms alongside Yuna’s frame, definitely ‘pulling’ on her teammate's waist, while your mind imagines all the ways you could rim Yuna for hours.

“I wanted to pull my underwear out of here,” she responds with a whine. “But now I am stuck!”

Go figure, she is brainless as well. Both of them are, but nature has instead given them the envy of millions of women: divine bodies that are effortlessly sexy and beautiful. Smooth skin, toned legs, curves to die for—in your admiration you notice that your energy is returning quicker than ever before.

It might not fit the story, the narrative, the game, but in this moment of bliss, you couldn’t care less. Knees bend, cock guided by your thumb, you press your tip against Yuna’s ring and find the entry into her asshole to be a lot easier than expected. Her moan bounces through the washing machine just like her boobs bounce in surprise.

Confusion has Somi frozen, her body only reacting when you put force in your thrusts, enough power to make Yuna hit her dumb head against the back of the washing drum. A profuse whimper made metallic, not that you care, but Somi seems to get back into the real world where she is still as moronic as before.

“H-how is this supposed to help Yuna?”

It’s not. Tell her that. Tell her and Somi will continue complaining like this without getting any pleasure from you. Serves her right, won’t make the scene any better though, thus you find her neck with your hand and find her eyes with yours. They sparkle knowingly.

“You really are the dumbest thing alive.”

A pull and Yuna is out of the drum. Blonde hair flows down her back, hides her frail shoulders and in the reflection of the metal drum you see her lips in a light, glistening pink. They are full and made for sucking. In the sea of her endless, golden hair, your hand twists and twists until Yuna voluntarily raises herself from the ground and arches her back towards you. Your goal is not to kiss her lips (though that would be one hell of an experience) but to drown her in Somi’s cleavage.

“What are you—Yuna! No, don’t pull it down, I-I just found it.”

Sweat evaporates from your temple when you see those lips wrap around one of Somi’s nipples and begin to lewdly suck on it. The thrill is engaging, Yuna’s ass invites you back in and it’s with ease that you fuck her puckered hole. You poke the depths of this suffocating cavern and Yuna begins to poke all over Somi’s body. The dumber blonde hesitates briefly, hands first on her thighs, then Yuna’s until she ends up below her friend.

“Now you are trapped,” Yuna giggles and drool leaves her mouth in purposefully large amounts, able to transform the valley between Somi’s tits into a canal.

“You two are so fucking stupid, fuck, fuck your hot bodies.”

You are starting to lose it, for every word they utter, your intelligence gets insulted but your arousal heightened. You spank Yuna’s ass and she tightens to the point where you need to give it your all to fuck her faster. What an odd time to notice that they haven’t told you their task yet. How can you help them get points? Shit, what was in the script again? Are you really that much smarter if you can’t remember?

“Yuna, Yuna, that feels so good,” Somi moans out and sways on the floor from side to side until you press Yuna right on top of her. With their incredible bodies entangled and you nonstop fucking into the tight ass, their sensitive spots have to rub each other, nipples on nipples, clits on clits, and Somi is the first to collapse. “Oh my God, I-I’m about to wet my panties, oh no, Yuna!”

“Me too, my butt, I’m going to cum from my butt!” Yuna’s silly fucked body, and her silly face and her silly feminine voice have you on the verge to become silly as well. Both blonde’s indulge in their wet, heavy orgasms and you push your tip back into Yuna so many times that you flood her with a pent up load that momentarily shuts down your brain.

So this is how they feel all the time—brainless but blissful. At least stupid bitches fuck good.

“Oh, Somi, there, there is so much in my ass~”

“Really? Can I feel it?”

Somi puts two fingers against Yuna’s puckered hole, but before she can get a scoop of your load that is still hidden in the tightly clenching butt, Yuna stands up. “No, Somi, ew,” Yuna shouts, moans, something in between, again. “You have to eat it straight from the butt, like this.”

You are back in the hub room, all the rooms finally open. Before you make your way to the last room, you decide to take a quick look into each scene you’ve already participated in that only users that buy the premium pass (which is off 69%, only today on k-jizzers.cum) can still watch:

In the first room, Wonyoung and Yiren sit on the edge of the bed, fingering each other's pussies until they violently squirt all over the mattress. Both of them look sweaty and exhausted, but they continue to drink water and share saliva to go for another round. Stay hydrated, everyone.

“Let’s do this, Barbie, I know your tiny body can cum again!”

“O-okay, b-but only if you kiss me.”

In the second room, Swan is fully naked, her backside turned to you. She is tied to the metal bars with handcuffs on both of her wrists. Below her is Gahyeon, thrusting a dildo up into that tiny tight cunt, while her own hole is stuffed with a loud bullet vibrator. They are really committed to this game.

“I swear, Swan, if you cum again, I’ll kick your ass, literally!”

“S-sorry, Mommy, I try, try, try—I’m so close!”

In the third room, well, those blondes finally found a way to snowball your cum, not from mouth to mouth, but ass to mouth. Yuna sits on Somi’s face, head thrown back, unable to not moan as your white spunk oozes out of her. Bon Appetit.

“Oh God, don’t put your tongue in!”

“But he tastes so good, let me be greedy this one time.”

The final room is a classroom, unmistakably. It has an old blackboard, a long desk for the teacher, smaller desks and chairs for the pupils. No matter when or where you’ve been to school, this will surely evoke memories of forgotten homework, endless lessons and bratty students.

“Ew, is that the new guy?” you hear someone complain from across the room, disgust in her voice, fingernails rapidly typing on her phone.

“Oh yeah, but what did you expect? At least he gives some big dick energy,” a response follows promptly, though this time they both look up from their phones and stare at you. You quickly find coverage behind the teachers desk to hide your manhood. A miserable attempt that has one of the girls outraged.

“Ayo, what the fuck? Do you think you’re some kind of teacher now?”

“Maybe he is here to teach us a lesson, lol.”

Did the girl on the left, in her messed up blouse and way-too-short checkered skirt, the waistband of a light brown thong on display, just like her midriff and navel—did she just say ‘lol’ out loud? Well, at this point the viewer will neither cringe or notice, too good is this material, too hot their bodies.

“Maybe he is here to teach you a lesson for breaking the dress code,” the girl adds as she approaches the desk.

“Yeri, you—you’re worse than me! Everyone can see your bra, what the fuck,” the other girl shouts and goes in for a slap on Yeri’s butt. The impact has you peeking out as a small melee breaks out.

“At least I tried, Yeojin, unlike you. Where is your skirt, your blouse? I can almost see your tits.” Yeri reaches for Yeojin’s chest, which is covered by this tiny, one piece swimsuit, so tiny in fact, even Yeojin’s small body seems to spill out of it. When there is so much shortness, of course Yeojin’s shorts are no different. Her shorts are actually shorter than Yeri’s skirt, which is already quite short—

“You tried?” Yeojin shrieks and tugs at Yeri’s blouse, accidentally undressing her. Who could have known, the bra below is actually a bikini top. “It’s falling off of your body.”

“Ts,

“Hey, you fucker! Get out already, we got some beef to settle.”

Yeri kicks the desk and you hear pencils roll down from it. They surely have not forgotten about you and your assumed big dick energy, so it was no use to continue hiding. You crawl out and straighten your posture, clearly taller than the two young women who don’t waste time looking up and gawking at the height difference. Both sets of hands go straight to your abdomen, your crotch, your cock. Yeojin is the first to pump, rubbing her fishnet sleeves carelessly over your sensitive tip.

“Watch it,” you hiss and get fistfuls of their hair, which to your surprise does not faze them at all. “You two are running your mouth, spewing bullshit. This is no way how you should treat people older and taller than you.”

Yeri frees herself easily from your grasp and you gasp when her knuckles dig into your stomach. It wasn’t really a punch, but somehow, she has you stunned. A smirk appears on her feisty features. “Watch it, asshole. This is our classroom, you’re the one below us. If you want some respect, don’t flex with your height. Flex with something else. Proof your worth.”

“O-oh yeah? And how should I do this?”

“Fuck us,” Yeojin casually says and pulls back the skin on your cock to the point it hurts and all the surging blood forces you to peak stiffness. “You get points for every position, the more creative, the better. Show us that this thing is more ‘do-er’ than ‘show-er’.”

Their eyes are the epitome of ‘fuck-me’ eyes, hell, they imagined fucked you the moment you entered, and in your mind, you’ve fucked them in every conceivable way possible. With all this imaginary fuckery, it’s about due time for the real fucking to start, though it’s definitely bugging you that these small, bratty girls get to start it off and lead the way.

Guess your positions have to be rough.

“Fine,” you sigh and get ready to push Yeojin down to her knees, but there is no need. She takes the short fall and her lips aggressively wrap around your tip before you can overthink your decision.

“No need to agree, it wasn’t up to you anyway,” Yeri laughs and you feel her fingers roam your upper body, everything from butt, back, nape to stomach and chest. She lingers there for a long time, cupping your pecs while you imagine cupping her surprisingly big tits—then Yeri dives in and starts to suck one of your nipples, while Yeojin bops her head back and forth.

“You tiny bitches.” They make it hard to breathe, their sluttiness and sloppiness is excellent, their enthusiasm matches that of Wonyoung. “You greedy, evil little things. You’ll regret that.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yeojin moans when your cock pops from her luscious lips and you’re back to receiving harsh, painful pumps from her fishnet clad hands. “What’s stopping you, huh?”

Nothing, really, so you don’t keep them waiting any longer. You reach into the back of Yeri’s bikini bottoms while simultaneously finding a good grip on Yeojin’s ponytail. A bit of adjusting on both ends, suddenly there is nothing but sounds of horniness, of rampant, uncensored sex. Well, there is of course a lot more than that, but who could think of anything else—

—but Yeojin’s cock-sucking lips sucking cock. They are the only thick thing on this miniscule rookie pornstar. You jerk your hips forward and her nose meets your base. You keep it that way as her tight throat struggles with your size and saliva spills from her lips.

Yeojin’s gags seem to turn on Yeri, her wet pussy dripping on your fingers as you rub it, never too fast, to keep her on the edge to—yeah, teach her a lesson. Look at that needy face, that heaving bosom, she is so desperate for more stimulation, but could never admit to it. Yeri’s pride keeps her from begging for your fingers to twirl inside her cunt.

“Is that really how you want to do it?” That’s as close to a beg as you will get from Yeri, nonetheless, you’ll give her more rubs. All this struggle is unbeknownst to the viewer, who can only see Yeri’ ecstatic face and wide open mouth as you finally insert two digits in her cunt. “That’s better, fuck.”

“Ride my fingers, Yeri. Impress me, and I’ll fuck you on the desk.”

“You, you will either way,” she chirps back, voice about to break when you thrust knuckles deep and curl, all while making Yeojin your sex doll.

Those gags of hers have become too dangerous though, so you take a step back and intensely watch as Yeojin coughs up lots and lots of saliva, letting it run down her pretty little face, her throat that was just stuffed like some obscene christmas chicken. In disbelief you watch her wipe her tears away and grin on, as if she wasn't just fighting for her life. Nothing can get Yeojin down, her brattiness is unreal.

Yeri does not seem amused at the lack of attention you give her. She pulls your hand out of her pussy and waddles towards the desk. In a burst of creativity, you grab her and slam her on the desk, on her back. Yeri winces in pain, but you already have her entrance exposed and filled before she can complain. And complain, she shall never again.

“Fuck, so big, be ca-care-ful!”

“Now that’s—oh God, you’re tight—now that’s not what I expected from you,” you groan manically, as you pin Yeri down with both your eyes and hands. “Shut up and take it. I want to see your tits bounce.”

Out of nowhere, Yeojin’s thin hand creeps under the thin string of Yeri’s bikini top and pulls it off. Finally, you can see those modest breasts swing freely while you do what you’re best at: plunging your fat cock into a wet cunt. Yeri moans, in a deep craze, deep pleasure, her hips grind in circles so you have to pin her down harder, hands in the soft flesh above those hips—just fuck faster and lose your mind.

“Yeri, your pussy looks so full,” Yeojin giggles and brushes stray hair out of her friend’s ecstatic face. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to cum?”

“No-no, never—”

“Oh great, cuz I won’t let you,” you promptly say and pull out of that stretched hole, gaped and absolutely desperate for an orgasm that was right around the corner. A few more pumps and Yeri would have been gone, her first on cam climax was so close.

But now it’s Yeojin’s turn. After all you want those points—or is it their points? You don’t care, you just hook your arms underneath her thighs and pick her up. She’s as light as she looks and her pink cavern is as snug as you anticipate. Yeojin holds onto your neck for stability, while you split her open further and further and when she leans into you, you feel your cock bulge her.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the spot.” Use Yeojin like a fleshlight, an upgrade to her sex doll mouth, and she surrenders to the pleasure. Wasn’t this supposed to be Team Bratty or something? This is more—

“Team Cockhungry, absolute sluts,” you shout at her but Yeojin is just mindless and her lips quiver anxiously whenever you’re not guiding her small body up and down your cock. “Yeri, get on the wall. Present your ass to me, if you want this cock again.”

Yeri nods, only focused on you. She needs a second to find orientation again, while you make Yeojin lose all orientation as you spin her around and fuck her full nelson. An insane idea by the producers, stand and carry sex for the finale, but with a girl this small, it’s actually possible. You are still the unrestrained engine that pistons and pistons until Yeojin is ready to burst.

“Not yet, not yet,” you coo as you ruin yet another orgasm. A wet pop when you remove yourself from what could be a perfect hole for cockwarming, breeding and many other lewd adventures. The industry will empty their pockets to get a video with this pocket pussy girl. But for now, she is all yours and quite dismayed.

“You, you dick, better make it up later,” Yeojin says, voice deeply judgemental. It has to be ignored, because first, you have to make it up for a certain someone who wasn’t satisfied with your fingers or a short missionary fuck. Yeri needs you again, deep and hard, while her fragile legs try to keep her upright.

You watch the side of her face, the lip bite, the palms flaking off the wallpaper, the thighs trapping you and your cock is already on her labia. Yeri rubs her love juice all over your rod and you follow her plea and take the lead with a thrust that can be heard around the world.

“Fuck, it’s deep, your cock is deep in my pussy.” The disbelief in her voice sounds genuine, just like the attempt to crawl up the wall to drop back down on your cock. Yeri wants you to hit her cervix, finally cumming all over you but you need to savor this position more.

“Deeper than anything else.” A hand in her hair, you press everything of her against the wall. “I know you like it deep, your best spots are there. You’re a slut for large cocks, you only want them while standing up.”

“No, I need them to pick me up! Lift me up and fuck me, break me open deeeeep!”

Yeri must have been so envious of Yeojin. You might have picked the wrong girl to lift on high and fill from below. You can still make it up though; Yeri’s tits are repurposed as handles to pull her back onto your chest, feet suddenly flying. You might be blinded by strands of her hair all over your face, but you can still feel the weight of Yeri down on your cock, while you’re still drilling into her. She is getting higher, not only physically, but mentally. She loves nothing more than to be watched while a huge shaft fucks her. The stimulation sends her into a sea of bliss, a deep ocean, like the puddle of girl cum beneath your feet.

“I’m going to cum on your cock,” Yeri screams and tries to choke out a load from your balls, yet all she is choking you with is her hair on your face. “I love it, y-you can finish with me—”

The last time the camera captured someone cum so hard was about thirty minutes ago, either Wonyoung or Yiren, but unlike Team Princess next door, Yeri does it involuntarily. You pound the squirt out of her sloppy cunt until your legs become a slippery lubed mess and you almost slip on the cheap classroom floor. Yeri shouts and whines, the inside of her pussy still rippling when you pull out of it.

When you place Yeri back against the wall and feel the somewhat cold studio air brush past your erection, you realize that Yeri was close to getting you off too early. You are throbbing, surfing on the edge, almost getting blue balled. The only thing that can save you is Yeojin and the only thing you see is her ass, as she props herself up on all fours in between the chairs of—

Who counts chairs and who fucking cares? Just slam your cock into her ass and hear her screech in shock at the sudden fullness of her back entrance. There will be no ruined orgasm for you this time, Yeojin’s ass is your guarantee and you doubt her brattiness will return. Not when she moans so submissively. A question remains as you bury yourself repeatedly in Yeojin’s rectum: how can she be shocked when it's all lubed up and relaxed and eager to take you back inside like the pussy of a veteran porn star?

Yeojin really was born for this job. Her petite frame will be perfect for various porn sites related to kinks: size difference, stand and carry, small tits. The videos of her getting bulged will become legendary amongst the horniest or Reddit and Tumblr communities. Guys will have their way with her, her head will be spinning after some huge guys have her unconventionally spitroasted in the air or one of those tall, muscular women takes her for a ride on a strap-on.

They won’t have to worry about anal from her, because Yeojin takes it legendarily, narrowing at just the right time to go beyond the audio-visual perfection that is her penetrated ass—in simpler words, it feels as good as it looks. She can rival Yuna or maybe form some butt slut dream team, that’s how fucking amazing fucking her ass is.

“Yeri get back here, I’m close,” you promptly announce whilst scoring again by forcing Yeojin into a prone position and marking her shoulders with tender bites. Yeri struggles to find footing, only able to push forward because of all the tables and chairs. When she finally reaches you, you give Yeojin your final pumps as her entire frame is struck by an orgasmic earthquake.

In this day and age, everything has to be fast, even porn has to fit the 15 second shorts, reels, tiktok culture, so you start to cum in Yeojin and push Yeri to the ground at the same time. Then you reach for Yeri’s butt while holding back as many spurts as you can, to get her in this sweet piledriver and then paint both the outside and inside off her petite yet bubbly ass. It’s perfect for a short clip, that little teaser that plays when you’re about to click on the next JAV thumbnail on that shady site.

The HD or 4K settings across all screens can never do the real sight of a blissfully filled Yeri justice, as she eagerly spreads her own cheeks and everyone gets the awesome view of cum that seeps out of a gaped ass. The upside down (pretty, little, risky) baddie cleans off that hard-working cockwith her formerly bratty mouth. Deep exhales through her nose send a nice, warm stream of air around your base, which finally loses stiffness, the tension, it comes crashing down in the well-known post-nut clarity.

In this clarity however, you find Yeri’s final defiance; her lips will not let go of your cock and her tongue on your sensitive slit makes you curl your toes and whine out the agony which shoots up to your head like electric shocks. To top it all off, you feel Yeojin grin behind you when she wraps her slender arms around your midriff. This wasn’t in the script!

“The shooting might be over,” the tiny girl whispers. “But we are not done with you.”

“There are still a lot of points to be collected.

“And you will collect all of them.”

2K notes · View notes

saturnville · 4 months ago

Text

brown sugar

pairing: lewis hamilton x black oc (victoria "tori" scott). summary: he loves her. she’s too blind to realize it. warnings: angst. reference: brown sugar (2002). wc: 5.9k. an: this took forver, ngl. and I don't even know if I like it for real LOL, but I hope you all do! tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neewrites @cocobutterqwueen

Working hard for what he desired was a concept that was instilled in him from a young age. If he wanted something, his father would say, it was up to him to put in the work to make it happen. He'd have help, he'd have support, but the grit had to come from within. It was a lesson he carried with him throughout his life.

As a child, he was determined to become a successful racing driver. He'd now become the primary name in Formula One as one (if not) the greatest racing driver and the first Black driver, especially of his caliber. He'd broken barriers and found himself doing things he'd never thought he'd do; designing, producing, and mentoring.

He was determined in every aspect of his life, including his love life. Or, the lack thereof. He was used to the fast life of money, cars, and women, but as he grew older, it seemed unappealing. Bringing random women homemade his stomach clenched in discomfort, staying out too late made his head hurt, and having a large bed to himself grew lonesome.

But, he knew what he wanted. He put in effort to ensure that, even selfishly, he got wanted; always did. And it was going to be her.

"Hello?" Her voice reverberated throughout the airy penthouse. Her heels kissed the hardwood floor as she entered the foyer of his home. Her nostrils widened as she inhaled deeply. He was still present. The scent of his favorite cologne lingered and tickled her senses. "Lewis!"

"Do you like yelling my name or something?" he joked as he came around the corner. As he came into view, she smiled gently. He looked very comfortable. He wore a pair of loose-fitted black sweatpants and pulled the matching sweatshirt over his head. His hair, as usual, was pulled into a low bun and a lazy smirk played on his lips.

She rolled her eyes playfully and welcomed his hug and kiss on the side of her neck. She shuddered. "Try again. I came to drop this off." In her hand was a black restaurant-like bag. Lewis dropped his hand to her waist and turned his head to the side. He watched as she swallowed thickly. She said, "Nothing much. I cooked and had a lot left over."

Lewis' eyes lit up in excitement. Her love language was cooking. Her grandmother was the

chef of her family, often teaching everyone, including herself, her family recipes. And since leaving the States to move to Europe for business, her grandmother's recipes were the bridge that kept her connected with her Mississippi roots. Lewis was always an indirect benefit of her love for her roots.

"You spoil me," Lewis said boyishly, allowing her to put the bag in his hand. The scent was familiar. Greens, green beans, cabbage, vegan mac n' cheese (an extra step she took), black-eyed peas and rice, and a small portion of. "Thank you." Lewis visited the States plenty of times, but nothing was as fulfilling as Grandma Eve's cooking, and he learned that from the first time he went to Mississippi with her.

"Something like that, but that's all I wanted."

Lewis's face turned upward. "You're not staying?" She shook her head.

"I have a date." That didn't go over well with Lewis. He grunted in disdain and took a step back from her. She pursed her lips and turned her head to the side. "Don't act like that. I told you I had a date three days ago."

He never forgot about her date. He simply didn't care. Not because he didn't care about her happiness and romantic prosperity, he didn't believe that the guy (or any other guy, for that matter) that she'd gone out with, was worthy of her. They weren't worthy of being in her presence, let alone breathing her air. He never forgot, he just knew she deserved more.

"Mhm," Lewis hummed. He dug into the bag and plucked a piece of cornbread from the napkin atop the containers. "Yeah, I know. Guess I gotta eat all this by myself..." She chuckled and waved him off. She dropped a kiss against his cheek and waved, "I've got to go. I'll tell you about it later."

Lewis nodded. It made his chest hurt saying, "Enjoy, love," but by the smile on her lips, he knew she appreciated it.

"Thank you, baby!"

He huffed deeply as she left his home, the nickname she gave rubbing his insides warmly. He only hoped he'd still hear her say it.

She met the man. She said she met the man, who took her out and was everything a partner should be. He was kind, generous, and a leader--the overall catch. He tried not to show the jealousy, the envy, the discomfort on his face when she spoke of him, of this David character.

He tried to stay happy, smiling and supporting her newfound love with the man who seemingly swept her off her feet. Lewis kept showing up for her in every way he could until he couldn't anymore.

There was no reason (in his opinion), to show up when another had filled his place. Lewis knew it was wrong, but how long could he accept being pushed into the background by the woman he'd come to know and love in a way most wouldn't imagine? He knew it was wrong, but his heart couldn't take it.

Once her phone calls slowed, texts grew less, and she stopped showing up how she used to, he didn't force it. He did what most hurt people did; he fell back.

"You talk to Lewis lately?" Her friend asked. Tori thought for a moment. She hadn't seen him, she hadn't spoken to him, and she hadn't been to his races in a while. Life had been on the rise and her schedule grew busy. She'd accepted the position as senior partner at the law firm and had found love. Her life had changed so much that she hardly realized their disconnect.

Tori took a sip of her almond red wine and twisted her lips. Suddenly, the sweet red was bitter against her tongue. She didn't meet the eyes of her friend, Jen, who grew curious with her silence. Tori swirled the liquid in the cup and shrugged. "No, it's been a while. He...he reached out to congratulate me on the promotion and I was told he came to the party, but I didn't see him. I haven't heard from him since." That was a month ago.

"I did," Jen countered. "He spoke to everyone, left a gift for you, and tried to get to you, you weren't around, so he left."

Tori's stomach jerked. How had she not seen him? She'd known Lewis like the back of her hand, which included being able to sense his presence. How had she failed?

"You were with David for most of the night, so, that's expected. I know you two are close, so the fact that you haven't said much about him is shocking. Did you at least thank him for the gift?"

Shame fell over her. "I never knew he got me one. I just assumed he came and went because I didn't see him. I was so focused on everything else."

Jen's eyes narrowed. This was odd. "So you don't remember the black box with the gold ribbon? Cursive writing on the bottom?" Tori shook her head. At first, she thought it was from David, but when he did not take credit for it, she simply pushed it into the corner of her room and said she'd get to it later, along with the other gifts that awaited her attention.

Tori groaned, "I feel terrible." She hadn't known her best friend come to celebrate with her, she hadn't recognized his handwriting on a gift he got her, and she made no effort to show up for him within the last few weeks. And even worse, she hardly realized the shift.

"You should," Jen shrugged. "I'm all for expanding your circle, trying new things, exploring new people, but abandoning your friend in the process isn't cool, T, and you know it. He loves and cares for you a lot, so I can only imagine how it feels to ignore my calls and texts while you're living la vida loca with this new guy and his circle."

This time, Tori's eyes narrowed. "What does David have to do with this?"

If only she wasn't so naive sometimes. Jen chuckled and shook her head, "I see you don't know your friend as well as you think you do."

What was that supposed to mean?

Tori went home that night and sauntered to the corner of her room where the remaining gifts resided. Her friends and family were quite generous, having blessed her with money for new outfits, a new lunch box to carry, coffee mugs, and decor for her new office. However, her eye was trained on the black box with a gold ribbon. It was off to itself in the corner, hidden by everything in front of it.

Tori crawled toward it and shuffled it toward her. It was heavy in her hands. She shook it. On the bottom was the cursive writing. To My Love, congratulations on all you've accomplished. Xx, LH.

Her forefinger and thumb pulled the ribbon and opened the box after. She couldn't stop the tears from swelling once she saw what was inside. There were small knickknacks, such as her favorite snacks that she never had the time to get and a pearl necklace that matched his. But, what tugged at her heartstrings was the letter that was framed beautifully. A letter to herself, from herself. One that she swore she'd never see again. A note was on the front. Since your dreams have become a reality, here's your reminder that you can do all you put your mind to, Xx, LH.

"I wrote myself a letter. I don't remember what I did with it, but I wrote to my future self. All things that I'd hoped to accomplish in five years."

Lewis turned his head, "And what's that?"

Tori sighed dreamily. "I want to make senior partner. Hopefully, own property and stop renting. I want to travel and go places I never thought I'd be able to afford. I want to find love. I want to be happy, Lewis. Truly happy."

"And you think you'll get there in 5 years? To true happiness?"

She nodded, "I do."

Dear Tori,

I can't believe you did it! Promotion to senior partner is no easy feat. Not only are you a senior partner, but you're the youngest in company history. When the world kept trying to decline you a seat at the table, you brought a folding chair and made your presence known. I hope you're proud of yourself.

Did you ever take that trip to Athens? I hope so. I know you're a mythology nerd. I hope you went with Lewis; he always supported your nerdiness.

And love? Is it there yet? How is the dating pool? Is it still terrible or have you found a man that you love? Is he caring, humble, generous (not just financially), and supportive? Make sure you're not settling! You know Lewis wouldn't approve of you settling. You're too good to settle.

Write back in five years. I can't wait to hear about what you've done.

I'm proud of you. All the love,

Tori

Tori sighed heavily. She'd accomplished a lot that was on her list. She made senior partner, she explored Greece, Rome, and Alexandria, Egypt for her birthday the previous year with Lewis, and had more fun than she could have ever imagined. She remembered the trip like the back of her hand. From how he surprised her with the tickets on a Saturday morning and sent her on a spa day to prepare. How he had an itinerary planned for their 14 day excursion across two continents. His intentionality and persistence in ensuring she was fulfilled never went unnoticed...until recently.

It made her wonder...did she have everything she wanted? Sure, she got the promotion she desired and deserved, she bought a home, and she met a good man. But, did she love David, was the question, and if she didn't love him, how did she allow him and her newfound success to blind her from the genuine connections she had before? When and why had she changed?

Her eyes wandered over the box again. To my love. She missed him, she had to admit. Seeing his beautiful smile and eyes light up whenever she walked into a room and feeling his warmth whenever he hugged her. She wondered how he was doing. Would he pick up if she called?

Lewis sat on the balcony of his penthouse humming along to the music that played on the outdoor speakers. His eyes caught the twinkle of the stars above and the winks of buildings. The night, quiet and gentle, had settled into a familiar sense of loneliness. He nursed a glass in his hand, swirling the liquid around, its color catching the light of his environment. The weight of the past few weeks had weighed on him heavily, especially with the growing distance between him and Tori.

He missed her presence in his life--their conversations, her laughter, and the way she effortlessly made his house feel like a home. He replaced their last interaction in his mind, the way she casually mentioned her date with David. The bitterness ate at him ever since, not because she was with someone else, but because he hadn't been honest with her or himself.

Lewis sighed and set down the glass. He picked up his phone and scrolled through the messages he'd sent her, most of which went unanswered. It hurt to feel her drifting away, especially knowing she was happy with someone else. But he couldn't keep pretending that he was okay with just being her friend. He couldn't keep pretending that he didn't love her.

His phone buzzed. A message from Tori. He felt a strange mix of hope and dread as he opened it.

Tori: Hi...I've been meaning to catch up. It's been a while since we talked. Been thinking about you. How are you?

He stilled. She thought of him. After all this time, she thought of him.

Lewis: Hey love. It's good to hear from you. I've been okay, just busy with everything. I'd love to catch up if you're up for it.

Lewis gnawed on his bottom lip as he awaited her reply. He saw the three bubbles appear, but they disappeared just as they appeared. Fifteen minutes went by. He sat in the same place, phone in hand, tapping the screen every time it tried to go to sleep. His jaw clenched in annoyance and his stomach churned with an emotion he couldn't identify.

She reached out once after not speaking to him in so long, and once he replied, she disappeared. Was she purposefully playing with him?

Lewis: I see you're busy. I hope everything's okay.

Twenty minutes later, he received another message.

Tori: Sorry, Lew. Dinner w/ David and his friends. Can we catch up another time?

He didn't reply. Lewis stood from the seat outside and walked into his house, leaving the phone by its lonesome all night long.

There was a gathering for her friend, Tone. He wanted to celebrate his birthday at his pool house and invited his closest friends and acquaintances to join him. So, Tori packed a bag, put on the best swimsuit she owned, and walked through the double doors with a smile on her face.

As she moved through the room, her eyes scanned for familiar faces, until they landed on Lewis, standing on the balcony, looking unusually distant.

Even from her position, she noted how different he seemed. His usual warm and welcoming demeanor was replaced by an aloof presence. He chatted with people, but Tori noticed he wasn't as animated, not as lively.

She debated on if she'd approach him. Before she could finish debating, her feet carried her to him, her heart inexplicably heavy.

"Lewis," she called softly. A small smile was on her face as she stepped closer. He turned to face her. The expression on his face was unreadable. "Hey, stranger."

He offered her a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, Tori. Long time, no see."

An awkward chuckle fell from her lips as she felt the sting of his words. However, she continued, "How've you been?"

Lewis shrugged once. "Busy." There was tension in the air, palpable and uncomfortable. Tori shifted her weight, unsure of what to say next. His demeanor was so different from what she knew.

She looked around, noticing how everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, oblivious to the sudden awkwardness that grew like a weed. "I've missed hanging out with you," she said gently, hoping to prod at something within him.

Lewis nodded, but there was a coldness behind his eyes. "Things change, I guess."

Ouch. Tori swallowed hard, trying to understand where he was coming from. "You seem different. Is everything okay?"

He looked at her for a long moment. Even so concerned, she still managed to miss the point. In the same flat tone, he said, "I've been dealing with some things." He avoided her gaze after that.

Tori's chest tightened. She realized she hadn't been there for him, too caught up in her own life to notice the distance that had grown between them. But she couldn't understand why he was being so distant now, so cold.

Tori chewed along her lip, hesitating before she spoke again. "Is this above David?" she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper.

Lewis's jaw ticked. He turned to face her fully, a mixture of frustration painted on his features. His eyes rolled once. "It's not just about David, Victoria," he said, his voice low but firm. She gasped slowly. "It's about everything. You're so caught up in your new life, your new job, your new boyfriend. Have you forgotten about the people who were there before all of this?"

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She hadn't realized the extent of the distance she manufactured and hadn't noticed how her actions were affecting those around her, especially Lewis. She felt a lump form in her throat, guilt washing over her.

"I'm sorry," she finally managed to say, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean to push you away. I didn't realize..."

Lewis shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "I know, love," he interrupted softly, resignation evident in his voice. "But it happened. And I can't just ignore that."

Her mind raced back to her conversation with Jen and her revelation while opening gifts. She was losing touch with what truly mattered. Standing here now, feeling the weight of Lewis's words, she understood that her new life, while exciting, had pushed away those who had been there for her. Her realization about David became clearer-while she cared for him, he didn't understand her in the way Lewis did. David's presence highlighted what was missing, rather than fulfilling her in the way he had hoped.

"I miss you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes welled with tears as she faced the uncomfortable truth and consequences of her actions.

Lewis looked at her, his expression softening for a moment. "I miss you too...but I can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not."

The weight of his words settled heavily between them. They stood there in silence, the noise of the party fading into the background as they stood in the thick of it. Just as she prepared to say something else, she felt a hand settle around her waist. She looked up--David. Her eyes cut to Lewis, who chuckled lowly.

"Hey, babe. Got off early." David pressed a kiss against her forehead and looked at Lewis, who stood expressionless.

"Lew..."

"I'll catch you around, V." With a nod toward David, Lewis set his cup down and walked away. If things kept going the way they were, he'd never speak with her again, and she couldn't live with that.

A week passed and she hadn’t heard from Lewis. Her messages went unread and her calls went unanswered. It had been a week since she saw Lewis. She'd sent messages and called, all of which were ignored. She went as far as sending flowers. Flowers! David never got flowers from her. But Lewis did.

She couldn’t get ahold of him and it drove her mad. She often pondered about what could possibly be going through his mind--was he fed up with her?

She spent minutes, hours, and days with her eyes trained at the nearest blank wall, going through the motions in her head. Save for tonight, she didn’t have much time for that. She had an evening event planned with David that she couldn’t get out of even if she tried; she confirmed her RSVP and paid the registration fee. She’d have to suck it up and deal with it like a big girl.

When she heard a knock on her door, she sulked to the entryway and unlocked in reluctance.

David’s presence filled the space as she stepped away from the door. "You alright?" he asked, concern knitting his brow as he took in her somber demeanor.

She forced a smile, but it felt like a mask slipping from her face. "Yeah, just a long week."

“M’fine,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. She swiped her purse off the side table. She tucked it under her arm, rolled her shoulders back, and nodded. “Let’s just get through tonight, okay?”

David eyed her intently but said nothing further. He opened the door and allowed her to walk ahead of him to the car, which she got in herself, as she often did because he was too busy trying to race to the driver’s side.

She scoffed. Lewis would never let her touch a door handle.

The ride to the event was turmoil. David was oblivious to her turmoil as he mindlessly hummed to the pop songs on the radio as he drove.

When they arrived at the event, Tori plastered a smile on her face. T the atmosphere was vibrant--an array of colors as the theme was tropical living, with a surplus of exotic foods and drinks from all over the world. However, the underlying tension between Tori and David crept through.

“Gonna get a drink,” David said in her ear. “Do you want anything?” Tori rejected and ushered him to enjoy himself. He pressed his lips against her forehead, to which she gave a tight-lipped smile.

David nodded once and retreated toward the bar. She watched from a distance as he spoke with the bar attendant, breaking her gaze every once in a while to speak to others she was familiar with. But, when she saw his eyes light up and his smile widened when a woman made her way toward him, her eyes lowered.

Who was she? She was pretty, Tori admitted. She was taller than she was, curvier in shape with light eyes. The woman leaned in, petted David’s color, and giggled at whatever he whispered in her ear. Her jaw ticked.

The icing on the cake was when her lips touched the corner of his mouth. He did nothing. He only pressed further into her space. He seemed comfortable, which meant he’d done this before. Her tongue ran over her front teeth as her stomach bubbled and her throat grew tight, She turned on her feet and walked toward the bathroom.

She dapped water on her face and looked in the mirror. This was not the place to fall apart.

Tori returned to the event a few minutes later and still, David was entertaining the woman with no more shame than he had lacked before.

As the night grew, her discomfort and frustration did, too. She spent most of her night alone speaking to familiar faces while David smooth-talked that woman. And soon enough, she couldn’t take it anymore. The more she glanced over, the more tears pooled her eyes, the shakier her voice got when she spoke, and the quicker her resolve wore down.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, swiftly exiting the conversation. She opened her clutch and fished out her cell phone. One way or another, she was going to leave before she suffocated. Her thumb hovered over the dial pad as she debated entering the 10-digit number she knew by heart. If she called, would he answer?

Tori gnawed on her bottom lip as she debated. Her determination to get out of the door curbed her ability to hear David calling after her. “Tori! Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving,” she said quietly, not turning to face him. “You can continue with the girl you were with.”

David huffed and rolled his eyes, “It wasn’t like that. You’re overreacting.”

Tori turned slowly. “You mean to tell me that you come to an event with your girlfriend, go to the bar, snuggle with some broad, and you think it wasn’t like that?”

The disrespect was glaring.

David’s hands went up. “Because it wasn’t! She’s a co-worker.” Tori rolled her eyes. He disrespected her and was okay with it. He was comfortable with disrespecting her and saw no fault in it. She could only imagine what happened when she wasn’t in the room.

“Consideration is one of the best things someone can give another person,” Lewis told her as they walked along a trail. “If something would hurt you, I’d never do it to you. And if I did hurt you, unintentionally, it’s up to me to listen to you and take accountability, even if I didn’t mean to. It’s the kind thing to do.”

What a difference between the two. Originally, David fit in the picture of what she thought she wanted, but everything was a facade. If he couldn’t admit his faults, how kind, generous, and supportive was he? What kind of leader did that make him? But Lewis, her partner through life’s ups and downs embodied empathy, understanding, and emotional maturity.

The realization hit her hard. A mix of sadness and clarity. She’d been naive and out of the loop for so long, but in this bittersweet moment, she began to understand how she felt. Her life was good, but there was potential for more. David filled a space, but there was still a lingering emptiness without Lewis.

Then, her conversation with Jen registered in her mind. How Lewis brought her that considerate gift, handwritten and thought out. David didn’t get her anything. Nothing but congratulations, a kiss, and an offer to buy her coffee on her first day. Her connection was nowhere near as deep and genuine as she had hoped and thought.

The dots connected. Lewis loved her in a way she didn’t think to acknowledge. And with the revelations she had, the recent interactions with David, and the lack of interaction with Lewis that had her in emotional turmoil, she understood that she may have loved him the same way.

Everything became clear.

“Go back to her,” Tori said after some time. She held the phone to her ear and listened as it rang. “We’re done.”

The phone rang and rang. Her heart sank further as the waiting period grew longer. Then, she heard him. “Hello?” she heard on the other line. “Tori?” Hearing his voice made her eyes water.

“Will you please come get me? I’ll be at the hotel on Fourth Street. Will you...” Tears began to flood her eyes as her frustration broke through.

She heard ruffling in the background and keys jingling. Lewis’s voice was clear, “I’m on my way.”

Lewis arrived fifteen minutes later, waiting by the passenger door. Tori sighed in relief. When she was close enough, he opened it and assisted her in the car.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Lewis nodded, his eyes still trained on the road. “Anytime.”

The silence from the car ride lingered, thick with unspoken words and emotions. Tori stood awkwardly near the entrance, arms wrapped around herself, feeling the weight of everything she’d endured. Her eyes were red from holding back tears and her body was tense, still bracing for the chaos she left behind with Lewis.

Lewis moved with quiet grace. He didn’t rush her, rather approached her with a familiar tenderness she forgot existed. “C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.”

Tori found her way to the couch. Lewis knelt in front of her and lifted the hem of her dress. He took her foot in his hand, one by one, and plucked the expensive heels off her feet. Tori watched him, her breath caught in her throat. She could hardly believe how natural the ordeal felt. His touch, even in this simple act, was a balm to her frayed nerves. Her feet slipped free and she wiggled her toes, sighing in relief.

Lewis stood and offered his hand. A beat passed between them. She felt an array of emotions. Vulnerable by the events of the last few days, but she pushed them aside and took his hand. They made it to his room a few moments later. Tori followed him to his closet where a drawer full of her clothes was located.

Without being prompted, Lewis’s hands were steady as he unzipped the back of her dress, giving her space to shrug it off. As her dress slipped down her waist and pooled at her feet, Lewis rummaged for something for her to wear, wanting to give her privacy and the dignity of handling herself.

She couldn’t help but note the distinct difference in the approaches between David and Lewis. There was never such a powerful, wordless communication that made her feel seen. Lewis allowed her to control the pace. So, when she walked toward the bathroom and beckoned him to follow, he did.

They faced the large mirror and Tori’s heart fluttered. He was very handsome, she noted. Still dressed from the evening’s excursions, she presumed. He wore a blue and white sweatshirt with baggy jeans and boots. A hat covered his unbraided hair but it still didn’t mask his beauty.

Without much thought, she leaned into him. The warmth of his body eliminated the coldness she felt earlier. She closed her eyes and basked in the steady rise and fall of his chest. As she found herself relaxed against him, Lewis’s hands found their way into her hair, fingers deftly undoing the pins and ties. The sensation sends a shiver down her spine.

Tori’s mind raced as she felt overwhelmed by the gentleness of his touch. It was all too much and yet it was exactly what she needed. Every brush of his fingers against her scalp, every slight shift of his body to accommodate her, spoke volumes. She felt her defenses crumble and a soft sob escaped her lips.

Lewis didn’t speak; he held her. His arms wrapped around her, firm yet tender like she was a precious jewel. Tori buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him. It was intoxicating; a mix of nostalgia and comfort. His grip on her was tight—he’d never let her go. Through her pajamas, she felt his warm hands caressing her back as she shuddered with emotion. He whispered sweet words in her ear, further accelerating her emotional rollercoaster. But after a few moments, ori pulled back slightly to look at him. His eyes are filled with concern and something much deeper, something that made her heart ache with longing and desire. She missed this, and she missed him much more. She missed how he saw her and knew her so well. He knew her.

“What did he do?” Lewis’s voice was low. He released an arm from her body and wiped her tears away from her eyes, ignoring the brown makeup stains on his sweatshirt and the black mascara under her eyes.

Tori smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders. Simply, she replied, “He wasn’t you.”

The words cycled in his head like a wheel. What did she mean by that? Did she mean it literally or was there something hidden behind her words?

“Tori…” Lewis dropped his hands from her waist and sighed. “What are you talking about?”

He needed to hear her say it all. Everything he desired to hear, he needed to hear her say it.

“He wasn’t…he isn’t you, Lewis.”

He said nothing.

“I don’t know what I was so clouded by but,” she paused, taking his hands in her own. “He’s not as considerate or kind, not as sensitive or sincere. He was all on a girl this evening and saw no issue with it. He didn’t open my door and saw no issue with it. Then I started thinking…you’d never do that to me because you never have.”

Lewis’s face turned up. “So it’s about what I can do for you.”

Tori’s eyes widened. “No! No, it’s about the intent behind what you do that sets you apart. You…are just so kind and considerate without wanting anything in return. Not saying you don’t deserve it, but your selflessness and overall nature are so beautiful and I cannot believe I was blind to it all this time.” Her cadence increased as she continued to rattle off her enwfound revelations regarding him.

Lewis’s dark eyes studied her face. He searched for any trace of uncertainty. His heart pounded so loud that he heard it in his ears; a mix of emotions swarmed within him.

“Do you mean that?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Tori nodded empathetically, squeezing his hands tighter. “Every word. I mean every word. I was so caught up in what I thought I wanted, in what looked good on paper. But you—you’ve been the one who’s always been there, who’s always seen me, even when I didn’t see myself.”

She took a breath, “David was what I thought I wanted, but you...you’re what I need. And I can’t believe it took me this long to see it.”

Lewis swallowed, his throat tight. “It’s nice to know you might feel the same way…” His voice was thick with emotion, and for a moment, they both just stood there, letting the gravity of the moment sink in. The air between them crackled with unspoken words. Tori’s heart ached as she saw the pain in his eyes, the hurt he’d been holding onto for so long. “I’m so sorry, Lewis. For not seeing you, for not appreciating you like I should have.”

Lewis shook his head, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re here now, though.”

She blinked back tears, overwhelmed by his forgiveness. Always so kind. She stepped closer, closing the gap between them, and rested her forehead against her chest. “I’m here,” she whispered

Tori pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “I do now,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry I made you wait. But I’m here, and I’m yours, Lewis. If you still want me.”

Lewis’s eyes darkened with emotion, and he gently cupped her face in his hands. “I’ll always want you.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was tender but laced with the promise of everything he’d been holding back. It was a kiss that spoke of his love, his desire, and his quiet, steadfast determination, despite all the ups and downs, to finally have what he’d always wanted—her.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x black oc #lewis hamilton x black!reader #f1 x oc #formula one x reader #formula one x black reader

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silkscream · 10 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 7: TOO YOUNG TO GROW WINGS

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, face sitting, blowjobs, cum eating (lol) lots and LOTS of angst, gore, blood, graphic descriptions of injuries, bullying, satoru being......... himself

ੈ✩ wc: 8.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wasnt gonna post this but then i was like well. i start a new job on monday so who knows if i'll be able to keep up the weekly update thing. this is also prob my fav chapter so i couldn't hold back OOPS enjoy the yaoi btw <3 title from angel by omar apollo

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

April, 2009

Jujutsu Technical College looks lovely in the springtime—the golden light hits the room in a specific way that makes your body warm. You’re calm, nearly dozing off until three people barge into the classroom, taking up as much space as they can. When you open your eyes, you see Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko smiling at you as they take their seats.

The boys had convinced you to attend (with the help of Shoko) after informing you there was a generous stipend included with your education. Despite the scholarship you’d gotten from the college you’d meant to attend, they had easily persuaded you. You hadn’t had friends you were so close with before, after all.

“Suguru. Switch with her.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it. I want her to sit next to me.”

You lift your head, realizing that Satoru is talking about you. Suguru laughs nonchalantly and stands up to switch with you, and you move to replace him when you notice Satoru’s baby blues searing into your skin. He grins at you brightly as you roll your eyes.

It’s been like this for weeks – Satoru possessing you, claiming you, even though you never ask for it. Truthfully, it pools your stomach with ardor. You’ve never felt as wanted as you do when you were within a close radius of him.

It dwindles eventually when you realize that the boys’ strength is so far beyond yours. In combat, they’re flawless, beautiful in their movements as they spar. You’re happier to watch than join—Shoko thinks the same, often rolling her eyes every time the two of you are assigned to practice hauling cursed energy for the sake of fighting. It’s nice when you can get her alone, studying healing techniques and watching her reversed curse technique grow.

Sometimes, you don’t even know why you’re here. Shoko is talented and you aren’t. You’re useful enough for superficial wounds, but you can’t do a reversed cursed technique. You doubt you could even heal something of a higher caliber than what you’re used to. You fear the prospect of this revelation on a mission that you know Yaga will eventually send you on.

“Do they ever fight over you?” Shoko asks over a cigarette.

“Wh-what?”

“You know,” she drawls, smiling. “Satoru’s such a brat. Suguru is more open when you’re around. They’ve gotta be possessive, right?”

You shrug. You don’t know the extent of what she knows, but you can assume from the boys’ behavior that it was written all over their faces. Satoru’s hand on your waist, Suguru’s point to tower over you. Unspoken proximity wars between them with you in the middle.

“I don’t know about that. They’re overprotective for sure,” you admit, taking a slow drag of her cigarette when she offers.

“Twigs! Not you, too!” Satoru bellows. “Don’t give my girl your cancer sticks, Ieiri!”

Shoko laughs at that, grinning with the cigarette in between her teeth as you fold your hands into your lap.

My girl.

Satoru hovers over you and holds out his hands. Curiously, you take it, which you regret immediately when he pulls your body and hauls you over his shoulder. You thrash a bit as he laughs until you’re stumbling onto the grass. When Suguru throws a staff in your direction, you catch it reflexively.

“Ready?”

You roll your eyes. You’d gotten better at sparring, though you still choose to hang back and concern yourself with areas of Shoko’s expertise. She had become a mentor to you despite being a peer. Meanwhile, the boys had been trying to get you to practice combat, thinking you would do well with a cursed weapon.

You remember the first time you had tried to fight, watching Satoru and Suguru wrestle in the grass shortly after. Their raspy grunts, the skin of their waists underneath ridden-up shirts. The memory makes you flush.

“Yes,” you sigh.

You focus on Satoru’s eyes, saturated like a lightning strike. You were rather well-versed in the language of his body – you think that your intuition often matched Satoru’s rather equally. He was still much taller and larger than you, but you exceeded in your efforts to dodge. He didn’t often bother with hand-to-hand combat much anyway, much more focused on perfecting his inherent techniques.

You gasp when he decides to close the distance between you. The touch of his fingers on your skin is a jolt to the senses as his legs sweep you when you’re too occupied with dodging. You hit the ground with a thud, groaning.

“Sorry, babe,” he chuckles, leaning down to take your hand. When he does, you pull him backward so that he tumbles.

“Hey!”

“Payback,” you shrug. You maintain a fighting stance once again, staff in hand.

Suguru often took you more seriously, offering to teach you martial arts when Satoru was off on solo missions. You breathe heavily as Satoru takes his first swing, which you dodge by a hair.

Focused, you move with the grace of a ballet dancer, halting his movements with your staff the way Suguru had taught you. When you kick a leg high in the air, Satoru catches you by the ankle just for you to fall again. This time, you’re sure you’re bruised.

“There’s still time for you to give up,” he teases.

You groan in irritation, rising to your feet and walking closer to him. He smiles, enjoying seeing you pissed off and breathing so hard. He’s so wrapped up in looking at you that his senses are hit with whiplash – your fist gets through his Infinity easily and socks him square on the jaw.

“You little–”

“Why didn’t you have your Infinity on?” you exasperate, but he’s already pushing you to the ground and struggling with you the way you used to when you were children.

“I’m soooo gonna get you for that–”

You end up kicking him again, this time in the ribs as he groans. When you pin his wrists above his head, he merely stares at you with wild eyes and heaving breaths. His face is red and cherubic, and when he squirms, you squeeze his waist in between your thighs.

You lean down close to his face, your breath tickling his ear.

“I win,” you whisper. You flick him on the forehead and he flinches. You wonder again why he’s letting you touch him like this.

“Letting you pin me down isn’t me letting you win, sweetheart,” he rasps lowly, only for you to hear. He rolls his hips slightly and it makes your eyes widen, much to his satisfaction. You frown and crawl away from him just in time to hear Shoko beckoning you.

“Lab time!” she calls after you. Without a second look at Satoru, you follow her inside.

Satoru is lying on Suguru’s stomach, frowning because it isn’t as soft as yours.

He’s also without entertainment since Suguru has been hogging his DS for the better part of an hour, which Satoru had only let him do because he claimed he wanted to take a nap. But, as per usual, he can’t sleep. He’s still roused from sparring with you, slightly sweaty still from the warmth and the mustiness of the dorm room, and his cock is getting hard again just from thinking about you on top of him.

“Fuck,” Suguru swears under his breath, caught up in a game of Pokemon Emerald.

Satoru lifts his head to scoot his body higher, chin resting on Suguru’s forearm to peek at his progress.

“You’re doing terribly.”

“I know that, thanks,” Suguru groans. “I have like, two backup Pokemon left and they’re both level 30.”

“Do you use the same technique with your curses?” Satoru teases. Suguru makes another agitated noise again in response.

“You should’ve brought your Game Cube from home.”

Satoru shrugs, sighing as he sits up. He snatches his DS out of Suguru’s hands, interrupting the boy’s protest with a wet kiss to the mouth. Suguru kisses back immediately, tongue peeking into Satoru’s mouth before he pulls away.

“You haven’t kissed me in months,” he chuckles. Satoru shrugs.

“Maybe you haven’t kissed me in months.”

“I would’ve thought you’d count it as cheating.”

Satoru is quiet for a moment, rubbing Suguru’s jawline with his fingers gently. He’s been rather gluttonous lately, and he thinks Suguru is starting to catch on. He’s been clingier to the both of you, obnoxiously so, acting more of a nuisance to you specifically for the sake of attention. His heart is aflame whenever he sees you interact with Suguru in ways that are both good and bad, but he doesn’t prefer to dwell on it for very long before he nearly forces you to give him attention.

“Having withdrawals?”

“Huh?”

“She’ll be back soon,” Suguru laughs cruelly. “Whenever she’s gone for a bit, you act like you’re fucking dying.”

“No, I don’t,” Satoru frowns. But he knows he’s lying.

“Don’t mope. C’mere.”

Suguru sighs, seemingly out of pity. He grabs Satoru by the face and sticks his tongue in his mouth – a rough kiss out of spite, out of unbridled passion. He’d dreamt about Satoru and you for weeks, always sneaking glances.

He’d considered taking both of you months before when you and Satoru and Shoko threw him an impromptu surprise birthday party despite his refusal. He had seen you tipsy, squirming in Satoru’s lap while Utahime set up karaoke on the television, and decided he’d let you come to him when you wanted to. You were still a shy thing even after New Year’s, never asking again for his touch.

Satoru groans, palming his dick over his slacks as he leans back. He could feel his cock leaking in his boxers already just from the roughness of Suguru’s knuckles grazing his skin. There was a manic buzz in his head, thrilled by the slight power imbalance he was allowing.

Suguru hadn’t touched him since before he started seeing you, and even then, it was mostly rudimentary teenage lust. Jerking off to magazines together. Seeing how much they could take in their mouths before gagging like it was a competition.

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts, feeling Suguru’s tongue on his clavicle.

“You thinking about her?”

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Suguru chuckles darkly, biting harder at the bone. “She was so hot today. I taught her those moves, y’know.”

Satoru makes a mumbled nose, eyes fluttering shut as Suguru palms him. He unbuttons his slacks to reveal the snowy trail of hair above his pubic bone, Satoru’s cock flushed and weeping as Suguru holds it.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Use your mouth,” Satoru pants. He knots a fist in Suguru’s dark hair. “Want it like this.”

He hisses when he feels Suguru’s mouth. His jaw slackens at the feeling, gasping for air when Suguru hollows his cheeks to suck tightly. Satoru shoves him down further.

His body feels tight when Suguru motions a finger towards his hole, pausing to spit on his fingers beforehand. With two fingers stretching him open, Satoru pants and gasps. His thighs twitch, hips rolling upward into Suguru’s mouth like it was a cunt.

Your face flashes in Satoru’s mind and it makes his insides careen. Brain like pulped fruit. He opens his eyes to see Suguru’s, narrowed and golden and taunting. It’s similar to the way you look at him, sometimes.

The fist in Suguru’s hair tightens now, knuckles white. Satoru grunts brutishly, overwhelmed by the stimulation in his hole in tandem with Suguru’s tongue pressing on the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, gonna cum–”

Suguru moans, jaw aching only slightly. Satoru could feel his dick inside Suguru’s mouth, heat building up until he spills onto the boy’s tongue. His head falls back. Breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

“You need a better appetite. Shit tastes like battery acid.”

“Doesn’t all cum taste like that?” Satoru frowns. His hand is still in Suguru’s hair.

“You tell me.” Suguru kisses him, licking the inside of Satoru’s molars. His lips move against Satoru’s mouth slowly, listless so he can take himself. When he pulls away, Satoru wipes the slick off his mouth, plump and bitten.

“You’re exaggerating.”

May, 2009

The sky is oddly grey this afternoon despite the pleasant morning. Yamanashi prefecture is as beautiful as ever with cherry blossoms blooming, but as you approach the cursed site, you continue to feel a chill down your spine.

It’s your first real mission. One that Yaga had at least approved you for after you had nailed your physical assessments, able to imbue enough cursed energy into a katana to swing around without slicing yourself. Still, you were meant to act as backup for Suguru, which Satoru hated.

“Why don’t we just both go with her?” he had wailed to Yaga days before, to which Yaga grunted in dismissal.

“You have a solo mission.”

“But–”

“That’ll be the end of it, Satoru.”

Admittedly, you do wish he was here. Suguru is a comforting presence, though, calmer in demeanor but much less talkative than what you’re used to. You walk with him through overgrown grass and lengthy vines.

“What kind of curse are we supposed to find?” you question out loud.

Suguru shrugs. “It’s difficult to tell exactly, but I’m assuming the cursed spirits roaming around here will be, er, women-shaped? Maybe. It should be Grade 2 at most."

“What do you mean, women? What happened here?”

“You don’t know? This place is super haunted.”

“So we’re ghost-hunting.”

“Ghost exorcising,” Suguru grins. “There used to be gold mines here in the 16th century owned by the Takeda Clan. They also ran brothels for the miners. After the Battle of Nagashino, the clan had to give up the land, but not before they killed all the prostitutes to keep them from spreading information about the gold mines.”

“H-how did they kill them?”

“The miners had the women dance at a farewell party, then they hacked the vines that kept up the bridge they were on. They fell into the waterfall.”

“That’s horrible,” you frown. Foreboding swells in your chest.

You can’t sense any cursed energy around you other than Suguru’s. You’re too busy ruminating to watch your step, accidentally tripping over a thick root. You fall forward into Suguru’s arms.

“You okay?” he croons. His face is inches from yours and you forget how to breathe.

“Y-yes. Sorry.” As you untangle yourself from him, your body jolts. You gasp when you hear the hint of a wretched, bloodcurdling scream in the far distance that makes your blood run cold. It isn’t very loud, but it almost sounds muffled, like someone was screaming from another room.

“What? What is it?”

“Did you not hear that?” you whisper.

Suguru frowns at you in confusion, his expression seemingly genuine. You blink, trying to shake off the horrible feeling in your body.

“I think I just heard something. It sounded like a scream.”

Suguru waits, prompting you to elaborate. The forest seems darker now despite it being midday, the curl of the trees billowing in a way that feels uncanny. A girl-shaped forest.

“Maybe we should split up.”

“Absolutely not,” Suguru protests, his mouth set in a firm line. You hold his hand in yours, stroking it gently with your thumb.

“Suguru, you can’t expect to protect me the entire time. I need to learn how to handle things on my own–”

An inhuman gurgle rumbles from behind you. The curse looks similar to a reptile, yet human-like with webbed hands and sharp incisors slick with algae. The stench of mud is apparent in the air now. It drools green sludge before it bows.

You stand in shock, unsure of what to do as you lock eyes with Suguru. Warily, you draw your sword, and the curse’s eyes roll back in agitation as it lets out another gurgle.

“Oh, shit–”

You dodge a projectile of slime, but it crawls towards you at a faster pace than you expect. A slice of your katana dismembers one of its arms, but it easily grows back. Within seconds, a giant curse rises from the ground and swallows it up, teeth mashing on gooey flesh in a way that makes you want to hurl. Suguru’s ringworm curse is dismissed once the riverbank is cleared.

“What was that about not needing me to protect you?” Suguru sneers.

“I still mean it,” you exasperate, heart hammering out of your chest. “You barely gave me time.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you have the next one, I swear.”

He smiles genuinely. Satoru must’ve gotten to him – he’s not nearly as neurotic as Satoru in that way, but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if you got hurt. It was less of a possessiveness thing and more of a selflessness thing. Suguru had always been the one to be reliable. He was also more perceptive than Satoru in the way that he could practically feel the tightness of the leash he held on you.

If you were going to be something in the Jujutsu world, you wouldn’t be held back. Suguru thought you could be something ever since he saw you.

You continue to walk with him, knuckles brushing as the air turns thick. Suguru thinks that maybe you’re sulking in his periphery, so he pokes your cheek.

“Yes?”

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you mutter.

The katana feels heavy on your back. You had never thought of yourself as a particularly strong person, growing up to be obedient. A maid’s daughter. Hands a little rough from housework and the dirt of the Earth when you were wild, once.

“Let me walk around in that little brain of yours,” Suguru murmurs, always charming.

You pause, swallowing. You realize you have never spoken your insecurities out loud. When you were on the brink of it, it would always be during petty arguments with Satoru, who had a way of shutting you down dismissively. He was always a bit of a control freak, even with you.

“Do you think I’m weak?” Your voice sounds almost frail.

“Of course not. I think you’re very talented, actually,” Suguru says. “Satoru and I– we just care a lot.”

“I’m not sure if talented would be the word. It’s not like he thinks so, either.”

“He does. He just doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”

There seems to be something lingering in his tone that gnaws at you. The way he sighs. You decide not to pry, attempting to steer the conversation away from Satoru altogether.

You hear a wail again. Something in the shape of a girlish scream but only the echo of it. Suguru gives you that confused look at him and you aren’t sure if he’s just messing with you at this point. He touches your hand again and the motion makes you wince.

“What’s wrong?” He looks genuinely worried now as he looks at you, holding a hand to your jaw. That alone is mildly unnerving for some reason, even though you think that in any other environment, you’d welcome it. You place your hand over his palm.

“Do you really not hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That woman screaming!” you hiss.

“Are you sure it isn’t some wild animal?”

You blink at him blankly.

“You don’t hear it.”

When he shakes his head, you hear it again. You begin to walk towards the source of it while Suguru stalks behind you, but you stop him.

“Maybe I should handle this.”

He grimaces, clearly unhappy. You raise your brows, challenging him. Suguru wants to hold you back but he knows he shouldn’t.

“Hey, another fucking– river monster could show up, and you’d be able to handle it. Maybe this is something that only I can see or hear. We’ll be too conspicuous with both of our cursed energy.”

He says your name with a hint of desperation and discipline, but you hold your gaze firmly.

“Okay,” Suguru sighs. “But if anything goes wrong, just yell for me, okay?”

You nod.

The tall grass tickles your legs as you move, which makes you thankful you decided to wear trousers instead of your usual skirt for the mission. Your hand grips the strap of your sword bag with anxiety. As you get closer, it’s as if the air is permeated with a smell that you can only describe as being in between sex and blood.

The scream you hear is louder now. You aren’t sure if it’s truly a hallucination, but it seems like the forest laughs back at you after. If you were a smarter person, perhaps you’d return to your partner. But you also assume that if you were to do that, you’d be a weaker person.

You walk over a wooden bridge that feels like it’s holding on by the barest thread. The creaking of the bridge beneath your weight adds to the unease that has settled in your gut. Every step forward feels like a gamble, a test of your bravery. The forest seems to close in around you, the trees whispering secrets you can't quite decipher.

A scream rips through the air and this time, against your better judgment, you follow it.

It’s punctuated with sobs and whimpers, getting louder and louder as you walk along the path. Cursed energy flickers in the shape of a girl. When you get closer, you see her.

A girl is sitting in a fetal position behind a tree, clutching her shoulder as she wails in agony. Her long black hair is matted and damp. She doesn’t seem to notice you yet, so you swiftly move to hide yourself between shrubbery to get a better look.

“P-p-please… help me…” she sobs. You choke up at the sight of her torn dress, hands and shoulder crimson with blood. She looks younger than you – no older than fifteen.

You grasp the strap of your sword bag tightly and cautiously as you walk towards her. Her eyes widen when she sees you. You aren’t sure if it’s a look of relief or fear.

“Hi there,” you say with a tremor in your voice. “What’s your name?”

“Akane,” the girl whimpers. Her face is pale with bruised lips.

“Akane. Are you lost? How did you get this injury?” You crouch down to meet her at eye level.

“Th-there was a man… I was trying to run away from him… but I’m in t-too much pain to keep going,” she breathes. “Please help me.”

You furrow your brows. You’re surprised that there was anyone in this forest besides those grotesque cursed spirits considering how abandoned and desolate the place was. The girl must’ve run far.

“Where are you from, Akane?”

“Tabayama.”

“That’s not too far from here,” you smile softly. “Let me heal you and my friend and I can get you back home, okay?”

You reach for her arm but she flinches and looks at you with unease.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “I’m a healer, see?”

Your cursed energy waxes and wanes within your palm like a luminous mist. You hover it over a superficial cut on your hand that you’d gotten from dealing with thorns earlier and the skin patches up like new. Akane watches in awe.

“I want to help you. Is it okay if I touch you?”

She nods her head apprehensively. You unwrap the saturated cloth from her shoulder, cringing at the sight of the gore and blood. You can’t quite envision the type of violence she’d just been through from the vagueness of her words, but you don’t want to make the poor girl explain in the midst of her trauma.

It’s more effort than what you’re used to – the wound is so deep that you fear that you’ll overexert yourself. You’d spent enough time in the lab with Shoko to improve your technique, but this time, it seems as if everything you’re doing isn’t enough. The skin on the girl’s shoulder is healing very slowly, and when you think that her condition is improving, another area of her body seems to bleed out.

“Maybe I should get my friend to help. He could take us to a hospital.”

“He?”

You look up to see Akane’s eyes grow cold. Almost lifeless, as if she’s looking through you. You hear the visceral sound of a limb breaking, the squelch of her organs. It seems as though her face is transforming right in front of your eyes, but it feels like an illusion – the way her skin looks decayed, the way her teeth grow sharper.

Akane – or what was Akane – cackles cruelly. Her cursed energy is overwhelming now, suffocating you. There’s a warbled cry that falls from her mouth.

“I’ll kill him.”

This is not a fucking Grade 2 curse.

You immediately get to your feet and swing your katana, but the curse blocks your attack easily. She’s also growing exponentially, no longer the size of a teenage girl and more like the river monster you’d seen earlier. She grabs you by the ankle, tripping you. A hack to the wrist with your katana makes the creature scream even more. You watch in horror as thick, black blood seeps out.

You yell Suguru’s name at the top of your lungs.

You see the Rainbow Dragon first, flying through the forest around you and the curse, but the nails on her other hand are strong enough to slice through the dragon’s hide. When you turn to lock eyes with Suguru, the curse lets out something in between a sob and a scream, shrill in your ears.

It seems as though she forgets you entirely, running head-first towards Suguru.

“I’ll… kill…. youuuuuuu!”

“No!” you screech, pulling her backward by the leg with all the strength you can muster. You slash the curse’s skin with your katana, making her wail, but she pins you down in retaliation with cuts to your arm from its sharp nails.

You hiss at the pain. You notice that her hair has transformed into its own entity, tentacle-like and razor-sharp as it slices through one of Suguru’s hound-like curses. She directs her attention back at him and aims for his neck, but you hold down a bloody hand onto her back as your hand pulls one of her sharp hairs back.

You cry out at the wound it makes in your hand, but your other stays pressed to the slimy flesh of her body. Your cursed energy ignites something unfamiliar in your body, something painful, but you imbue it into your touch with all you have.

She’s screaming. Or maybe you are. You can’t tell anymore – your head is dulling from expending more cursed energy than you ever have. It’s all dissonant to you. A horrific cacophony. You feel blood drip from your nose.

The curse’s flesh is rotting. As if the wounds she had when she appeared as a human were only rapidly progressing into decay, cells rupturing, body degenerating the harder you push.

It’s like she turns to mush. The corpse of the curse is barely recognizable anymore, just a puddle of chunky purplish-black blood.

You breathe heavily, looking up to see Suguru staring at you in shock. You try to give him a weak smile, but you don’t feel anything other than sick. Or maybe it’s numbness, at least for a few seconds as the forest is quiet again.

You double over and vomit. Your vision blacks out.

As a surprise to no one, Gojo Satoru is fucking livid.

He’s about to open his mouth but stops himself when Suguru gives him a look of disdain. There’s no one to yell at, except maybe Yaga, because why the fuck would he put you on a mission that could potentially involve a Special Grade?

“She’s fine,” Suguru affirms.

Satoru merely exhales through his nostrils, curling his hands into fists as he slumps down on the bench next to Suguru. He can’t help but envision your corpse, his brain reeling a horrific supercut of all the ways you could’ve been disfigured, maimed, bruised. Changed.

He realizes that the protectiveness over you he feels has turned into something ugly now that he knows you’re in the infirmary, something akin to fear, which is foreign to him.

It sinks into him like teeth down to the marrow, parasitic. He thinks of a faceless curse that he wants to tear apart with his bare hands. Satoru had tried to get over the desire to keep you in a cage, to keep you so unbearably close to him out of his own selfishness, but the feeling came back. He doesn’t know where to keep it other than lodged in his chest like a bullet.

“Did you absorb it, Suguru? Because I might need you to summon it later so I can get my fucking hands on it myself,” Satoru says, his voice low and seething through gritted teeth.

“No,” Suguru sighs.

Satord nods dumbly. Silence ensues.

“She killed it herself.”

You have dreams while you’re passed out. The curse you killed transforms its face from its teenage girl form and into others. You see Shoko, Suguru, Satoru. Everyone you’ve ever known. And when the skin of its face starts to rot the same way it did when you used your technique on it, you end up staring at yourself.

When you wake, it’s slow. The fluorescents in the infirmary don’t help. From outside of the room, you can hear hushed voices.

When you attempt to lift your body off the bed, you see Shoko sleeping in a chair next to you. Your bones ache, your skin stinging with the ghost of a wound. The cut on your palm from being slashed by the curse is a scar now.

You drop your head again, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to rest more. It’s too fucking bright in this room. Your breathing stills when you hear the door creak open.

“For fuck’s sake,” a voice bristles.

You hear another whispering Shoko’s name. Waking her, you assume.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s okay,” Shoko yawns. “Just sleeping. Her wounds were kind of deep, but I took care of it.”

A hand caresses your jaw gently, fingers stroking through your scalp. Your eyes blink open slowly to see Satoru grimacing above you. From the way the overhead light illuminates the back of his head, you think he almost looks like an angel. A makeshift halo shining on moonlit hair.

You notice the way he holds his fist tightly and the iciness of his gaze. It’s a fraction of rage, which makes you feel nauseous again. You’d seen that look on his face before, during the night of Shoko’s party. You wonder now, vaguely, what he looks like when he kills.

“Hey,” you mumble weakly.

“Hey,” he scoffs. “Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“Satoru, let her be–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. You rise, wincing at the soreness of your muscles. “Um. I… killed the curse.”

“So I’ve been told,” Satoru deadpans. His jaw is tense, but his eyes soften. He looks up, flickering his gaze between Shoko and Suguru.

Shoko clears her throat. “She used her technique. The healing part of it is based on cell regeneration. Apparently, it can also be used… the opposite way. It must've been activated by adrenaline, and then it was too much. Passed out from exhaustion.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, our technique is like a muscle, right? And she didn’t use hers very rigorously until now, so…”

“Right,” Satoru sighs, his voice clipped.

“I need a smoke,” Shoko rasps. “Do you need anything, baby?”

You smile weakly, shaking your head.

You can’t help but feel guilt snaking its way into your body. Even though you had exorcised a curse, your first actual achievement in Jujutsu sorcery, the bloodshed you’d experienced feels fruitless. You don’t feel very powerful at all, only monstrous.

It’s difficult to gauge what Satoru is thinking. He’s clearly upset about the fact that you got hurt, but you wonder if there’s more. If he resents you pulling a stunt like that and nearly killing yourself in the process—because what would you be if not his? Are you still his with bloodstained hands? Would he like you better now that you could prove to be strong?

It didn’t matter. He would always be stronger.

You hate the tension in the air. You can’t bear it. Maybe they’ll disperse once you get on your feet. There wasn’t anything left to do with your treatment since Shoko had tired herself with your wounds.

When you swing a leg over the cot and attempt to sit up straight, an invisible wall stops you. You glare at Satoru holding his hand out, palm outstretched inches away from your chest.

“No,” he snaps.

“Don’t do that,” you grumble. “I’m fine.”

He laughs but there’s no amusement in his tone. His eyes are cold again. Pools of ice.

“Right. You’re in fucking pristine shape.”

“Satoru,” Suguru warns.

“I– I can walk–”

“No,” Satoru repeats. “You’re hurt. Stop it.”

You look between Satoru’s hard gaze and Suguru’s frown and roll your eyes. You’re so tired, and overwhelmed with pain that transcends the physical kind. You can’t even put a name to it, the amount of emotions spilling out of you as you look at the two of them with mild desperation. You want to sleep for another twelve hours.

Irritation flares behind your face. You aren’t sure if you want to scream or cry for catharsis, but you stay quiet, trembling.

“I want to be in my bed,” you mutter.

Satoru lets out a breath as if he’s been holding it for a while. Gently, he touches the nape of your neck, Infinity down. Laces his fingers in your hair in a sort of compromise. He moves his arm underneath your back with the other under your knees and lifts you, kicking off the blankets.

You curl into him, head on his chest. It made it hard for Satoru to breathe, for some reason, like something was stealing the air from his lungs. He nods to Suguru as a voiceless confirmation, watching his cursed energy flare. I’ll take it from here.

When he gets you into your room, Satoru releases you, placing you gingerly on the floor. Part of him wants to shake you by the shoulders, have you slap him across the face for reasons unknown to him. Something, anything other than the despondence of your limp figure. He can’t stand it.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “I’m sorr–”

“Don’t,” he strains. “Do you even know why you’re apologizing? Or is it just second nature to you?”

You say nothing.

He strips off your uniform, torn and battered. Still reeking of copper blood, the stench all too familiar, but not on you.

“I’m sorry for being mean. I was just worried,” he says. “I’m… proud of you.”

“Proud?” You look at him, dazed, as if this is the last thing you expect him to say.

He nods curtly, a sad smile on his face. “I always knew you had it in you.”

He picks you up again despite your futile protest, walking you to the attached bathroom. After turning on the faucet, he sits next to you, hand stroking your thigh gently in silence. He doesn’t look at you. He’s not sure if he can.

“C’mon. Up.” He taps your thigh once.

You’re still dizzy as you enter the bath, sighing at the warmth of the water. As you sink into the bath, a sense of relief washes over you, momentarily easing the tension in your body. A much-needed respite.

You feel Satoru trail his fingers around your collarbone, rising to feel your pulse. The rhythm seems to calm him as he soothes his palm over your shoulders and back. His touch is less urgent than it usually is.

He squeezes shampoo in your hair and threads his fingers through it, scratching your scalp gently, untangling the mess of you. He saturates a washcloth with soap, rubbing small circles over your limbs, lifting you like you’re a doll. It was funny—he had never had to take care of anyone other than himself before, but at the moment, he’s indulged in the small hums of pleasure you make, reveling in your comfort. Your trust.

He likes taking care of you. It makes him feel like he has a sense of control. He doesn’t want to indulge too far into it, knowing it’ll smolder a nasty part of him in some way. But the steam of the hot water makes his cheeks ruddy, and when you open your eyes at the feeling of his hand on your jaw, he can’t help but want to keep you.

Satoru turns your face toward him, cupping your chin as he leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens like a flower blooming, ready for him like always. He tries not to be rough despite the moan you tease out of him. Your skin is soft after he bathes you. His hands know carnage, but they also know you.

You break apart, looking at each other for a few seconds before he kisses you again. He pecks your mouth, nose, and cheeks, leaving you to scrunch your nose by the end. Laughing, he rinses your hair.

“Feel better?” he asks lightly. You nod.

“C’mon, baby. You’re gonna get all pruney in there.”

You’re perfectly capable of drying yourself off and putting on clothes, but Satoru seems eager to do it for you, so you stay limp in his arms. He’s being oddly affectionate as he babies you, which he never does. It’s usually the other way around.

With his hands on your waist, a dangerous thought flits through Satoru’s mind, but it dissipates when he fixes your hair to see you fresh-faced. You look young, innocent. Untouched by violence like he had known you before.

He takes you to the bed, where, despite the size of it, he manages to slot his body next to yours so he can curl into you. Head on your chest to listen to the murmur of your heartbeat.

You stay like this for a while, listening to each others’ breaths. You’re on the brink of sleep when you think you feel tears on your chest. Dampness on your cotton shirt, but only a little. Satoru exhales heavily, squeezing the meat of your side. You’re feeling a little too warm from the proximity but don’t have the heart to untangle yourself. You close your eyes.

“I love you.”

You aren’t sure if it’s a whisper in your dreams or not.

June, 2002

You both had matching bruises. Green and yellowish like snot.

The summer was changing you and Satoru in a way that held gravity. Satoru’s body was growing more and more, handsome like the beautiful child he’d been when you first met him, and you were a purgatory. Something girlish. Something ghostly.

Your mother had reprimanded you last week for coming back with a bloody knee, scolding you for rough play. The expiration on your youth seemed to be ticking from the way she chastised you about your shared misbehavior with Satoru – you were meant to grow into something polite and womanly.

Satoru had scoffed at the notion when you told him. He liked that you weren’t obsequious to him like everyone else in his life who treated him like a little prince.

Unfortunately, you’d pave the road of your abjection all by yourself later on.

He still thought of you as the only person who understood him. He was your first friend, your only friend for a while, and you were his. You’d count stars with him. Catch fireflies and make wishes on them. Wear each other’s clothes before his growth spurt.

You’d clung to each other for years—it was difficult to tell which one of you was the parasite. Despite this, sometimes you think Satoru hates you. Sometimes he makes you cry, especially with how apathetic he can be. You blame his stoicism on his upbringing, but there are times that you feel like an afterthought, only exacerbated as he grows older and into something of worth.

At age twelve, it’s difficult for you to believe that you could be anything similar.

Your young ferocity gets minimized to meekness at school. There’s hair-pulling, harder than Satoru’s ever done to you. Stolen lunches. Spitballs to your back. Your face kissing pavement.

“What happened to you?” Satoru asks, narrowing his eyes at the sight of your split lip.

“I fell.”

He’s forceful when he drags you to him. He’s too tall for his age, towering over you with cold blue eyes staring down at you. You flinch when he touches your cheek with his hand.

“You’re lying,” he frowns.

“It’s fine,” you mumble.

He doesn’t pry after that, but he does force you to clean the cut with hydrogen peroxide, which is ironic considering how little he cares about his own cuts and bruises from his private training.

On the playground the next day, you’re targeted again, reaching desperately for your backpack that’s stolen straight from your hands. A kick to the shins has you scraping your palms when you try to ground yourself. Your hands sting as they bleed. You gasp when you feel another kick to the stomach, a cruel round of laughs taunting you.

But then, you hear them gasp. The sound of knuckles hitting bone.

“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Satoru lifts you up by the hand and holds you by the shoulders. He picks the debris out of your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” he sighs. He ignores the tears on your cheeks. He’ll wipe them away later along with the dried blood in your palms.

You’ll shower in his bathroom, mind blank under the hot water. He’ll see your silhouette through the peek in the door, and his stomach will lurch in a new way. He won’t be able to look at you for a week after.

June, 2009

He comes to you at night a little drunk. You’re surprised Satoru didn’t warp this time – you’re used to seeing him in the blink of an eye right before you go to sleep just because he doesn’t want to sleep in his own room. Sleep is hardly a thing for him anyway – his insomnia has gotten a bit worse over the years, so he prefers to play on his Nintendo DS quietly as he strokes your hair.

“You actually knocked?”

He shrugs as he moves past you to flop his long body onto your twin bed. You look at him in question. He doesn’t answer, only gesturing for you.

“Come over here,” he slurs.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not–” he hiccups, “at all.”

“Satoru,” you berate.

“Okay, maybe I went a little crazy with the Dirty Shirleys. Needed a drink after the stupid fucking mission Yaga sent us on.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking this much. It’s a weekday.”

He mocks you and settles a hand over your waist. You notice the calluses on his hands, ironic considering he can never let anything touch him. But you can.

He sits you on his lap, rubbing your shoulders carefully. “How’s your night been?”

“Shoko made me watch Audition,” you frown.

“Oh. I love that one.”

“Of course you do,” you sigh, “Nothing scares you.”

You aren’t wrong. After assassination attempts and countless wretched curses thrown Satoru’s way, nothing could make him flinch anymore.

“You scare me,” he pouts, undressing himself. Always staking his claim on you in this way – he wouldn’t leave if you asked, and you know that you won’t.

“I highly doubt that.”

“You should yell at me more. It’s kind of a turn-on when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes as you turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness if not for the light of the moon and the annoying brilliance of Satoru’s eyes. Even his hair seems to glow in the dark, head dipped in starlight.

As you lay on your side, you feel Satoru’s palm undulating your bare thigh, tickling you under the hem of your t-shirt. He breathes in the scent of your neck.

“You have goosebumps,” he mumbles against your hair. “Gonna get nightmares from the movie?”

“No.”

“I’ll protect you,” he giggles boyishly, body overheating with want.

He sucks on your neck, hand parting the plushness of your thighs. You keen at the feeling of his teeth and tongue, gasping at his large fingers sliding your panties to the side to prod your cunt.

“This is all I could think about today.”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “Kept thinking about all those sounds you make. Kept thinking about your face.”

“You shouldn’t—ah—let yourself get so distracted on your missions.”

He laughs. “Whatever. Killed all those fuckers in less than ten minutes anyway.”

Satoru keeps you pressed to his chest, his other hand grasping your breast. You feel his dick hardening behind you as he plays with your cunt, fingers knuckle-deep inside you. It didn’t take him long to find your spot the way he had you memorized. Your eyes shut tightly as you moan. Stars knock around your head.

He turns your face toward his and licks at the seam of your lips, tongue roughly licking the inside of your mouth. Your body tingles at the sound of his groans. He holds you by the chin, hand slipping around your throat to hold you in place so he can take in every detail of your face.

You flush under his gaze, how his blown-out pupils outweighed the ocean blue. His pink mouth is parted and breathing out, zephyrs of maraschino cherry tickling your face.

You cry out when he pins you down, sinks his cock into your wetness. A wounded sound. It makes him shiver, makes him think about you on that dingy cot a month ago in the infirmary. Satoru was about ready to avenge you in any way he could, back then, even when you weren’t even half-dead. He’d reshape mountains. Drown the whole city of Tokyo with his bare hands.

In the way he holds you with bruising force, rutting into you like a devoted dog, he decides that he will be the only person to hurt you. The only one who should, knowing that even with his regrets and jagged ways of caring, no one else should lay a finger on you except him. He’d never hurt you in a violent way, unless his passion had counted. If devouring you counted, which it probably did, he would be content with his selfishness if it meant you were safe.

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

“Made for me,” he whispers. “You were fucking made for me.”

“Yes,” you gasp.

He splits you open, spearing into your gut as he mumbles praises lowly into your ear. Your cunt pulses at the sound of his voice. He thrusts into you harshly, making blood rush to your head.

“You make me feel insane,” he grunts. “Used to think about you like this in high school. You were so fucking stubborn, refusing to give me attention.”

“You were a brat,” you flush. “Still are.”

“Your brat.”

“Mine,” you hum.

He groans at that. He’s so deep in you, drowning in syrupy velvet. He liked it when your body made him feel like this, like he was levitating. He wasn’t Gojo with you, always Satoru, always just a boy. He’d be content in this infinite spiral, swapping spit in between tongues and fucking into you until you cried. Your body is sacred. You made him forget himself when he needed to.

You like when he carves you out like this, your cunt a shrine for him at this point. You moan at the loss of him, watching through glassy eyes as he stumbles, fixing your body in between his knees.

“Wanna see my pretty girl’s face,” he groans. He’s annoyingly rough when he enters again, but you love it. He says your name like it’s a prayer.

Your head buzzes as he thrusts into you faster this time. His hair sticks to his face, tickling your cheek as he bites into your neck. Midnight vignettes blur your vision.

“Wish you’d let me have you earlier,” he pants.

“Fucking me for the past year wasn’t enough?”

He shakes his head. “Wish I lost it to you. I was thinking about you during it, too.”

“Satoru,” you whine.

He means it. He was already blunt as could be, but alcohol made him over-honest. He liked that his candor made you blush.

“Would you have let me fuck you?” he teases. “When we were fifteen?”

“No. You were even stupider then.”

“So mean to me,” he chuckles, rolling his hips more aggressively. He revels in watching you squirm. “I would’ve worshipped you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” you mumble, hiding your face in his chest. Nails cross-hatching the length of his back.

“I would’ve.” I will.

He kisses you open-mouthed like it’s a promise, pulling your hair in the process. The room was starting to get hot, that June humidity unforgiving, even at night. You’d have to open a window later. His body makes yours swelter, skin melting into skin like he’s trying to fuse the both of you into one thing. Like that Greek myth about two halves of a soul.

“Fuck, ‘m so close,” he whimpers. “You feel too good. Shit, I wanted to make you beg.”

“Sounds like you’re the one begging,” you exhale.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Want you. You’re killing me. Fuck.”

He spills inside of you at the same time you cum, the heaviness of his low groans making your brain break. He’s still drunk, head swimming with every part of you. Above you, he sports that fallen angel look again, eyes gleaming with rapture. Prodigious as he was, he worships you instead, blessed with love bruises adorning his shoulder.

Satoru always liked to fuck you like it was the last day he’d ever have you. Tonight is no different.

He exhales at the juncture of your neck, soothed by your hands in his hair. He lifts his body up, kissing your collarbone before he descends to your belly. You tremble at the feeling of his hand cupping your cunt.

“Satoru, I can’t–”

“Please?” he pouts, his breath tickling your clit. “Wanna taste you. All mixed up with me.”

Heat rises to your face violently. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

“You made such a mess,” you grumble.

“I’ll clean it up,” he grins.

You let him. His sharp mouth never lets up, anyway.

“Wait! Sit on my face.”

“I can’t even feel my legs,” you pout.

He whines your name. “I had such a tough mission today, baby. You don’t think I deserve it?”

“Spoiled,” you mumble as you switch positions with him. Below you, he looks feral in the eyes, over-eager. Hungry like a wolf even after fucking you hard.

You gasp when he pulls you down, slotting your thighs on each side of his head while he starts to taste you. Licking up into your cunt, moaning at the taste of himself and the sweetness of you. He grips your ass, guiding your movements like the ebb and flow of a wave. You shake above him.

“Jesus.”

You feel him laugh, the vibrations tickling your clit.

“Annoying slut,” you call him. He seems to enjoy it, thinking of it as praise considering how loud he groans. It almost embarrasses you.

That familiar feeling twinges in your core again.

“Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. He latches his mouth on your clit and you think you might burst. Maybe crumble and fly away in the wind like a dandelion.

He continues to suck on you as you ride out your orgasm, your thighs trembling. When he gets up for air, his eyes are blown out wide, drunken smile on his face as if he’s peaking. Chemical reactions in his blood.

“So good for me,” he grins, kissing you on the mouth. Your heart flutters.

His gaze is still searing into you. Looking at him hurts, sometimes.

Satoru presses into you, curling into your neck again. His heartbeat reverberates throughout the room. Tenderness floods the both of you, bodies slotted together like he wants to make a nest out of you.

You’re exhausted with heavy lids. Satoru strokes your skin until you fall asleep, careful fingers soothing the places his mouth had been. Divine wounds. Like a devotional dog with teeth too sharp and love larger than his body, Satoru will be the only one to hurt you.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you #satosugu smut #gojo x geto

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moremaybank · 1 year ago

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AIN’T A LONELY CHRISTMAS SONG — j.m

pairing: dad!jj maybank x mom!reader warnings: sexual innuendos (sort of), jj being a tad mistletoe obsessed, your daughters get into a tiny disagreement, mentions of pregnancy, i think that's it author's note: so i was trying to stay away from using names, but it was getting repetitive saying your older daughter and your younger daughter over and over so i gave them names. hopefully you find them cute LOL. also, this isn't technically part of my holiday event, but i wanted to write this to sort of kick things off ♡︎ naughty or nice ! ౨ৎ

“C’mon, pretty girl. It’s getting hard holdin’ on like this. You sure it’s not too big?”

“We just need to finesse it a bit. Nudge it a little to the left ‘n then we can slide it in.”

Beads of sweat started to form on JJ's forehead. His muscles were starting to cramp and he had to hold his breath to make sure he didn’t physically combust. “Okay, baby. How ‘bout now? ‘M I good?”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re good.”

With a collective heave, JJ pushed while you pulled, but the oversized tree seemed determined to resist. Then, after numerous strategic twists and turns, you managed to get the tree inside of your shared home. Needles of pine littered across your wooden floors like confetti.

JJ chuckled as he looked at the slightly dishevelled tree. “Well, you said you wanted the entryway to look memorable, right?”

You sent a glare his way. “Not what I meant, J.”

Soon, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet against your stairs, followed by two adorably shocked gasps. Your older daughter Avery sprinted down the steps, her little sister Elle hot on her trail as they rushed over to the two of you.

“Woah! Big tree!”

“Big tree,” Elle echoed in agreement. JJ crouched down, scooping her into his brawny arms and lifting her so she could get a better look. She reached out, her small fingers brushing against one of the branches and she retreated with a curious and excited squeal.

“Yeah, I think Mama went a little overboard. You agree?”

Avery clung to your side, her arms circling your hips as her chubby cheek smushed against your thigh. Big blue eyes gleam as they stare up into yours. “I think it’s perfect.”

You broke out into a smile, smoothing out some of the frizz on the top of her head. “Me too. Daddy just doesn’t see our vision.”

JJ rolled his eyes at that.

—

Soon enough, Christmas music swirled through the air, and the sweet fragrance of your festive candle made your home smell like its own winter wonderland.

JJ used his manpower to retrieve all of your decorations from your basement, earning a sweet but fleeting kiss from you before you lugged it all over to the tree.

Boxes upon boxes of ornaments and other decor littered around the room, messily so as your girls dove in with eagerness. Their decorating skills were definitely…questionable, but neither of you could deny how adorable they looked as they overflowed the tree with everything they could find.

JJ instantly recognized that caliber of enthusiasm, knowing that his gorgeous girls had no doubt inherited it from their mom. The woman of his dreams had passed on everything he loved about her to their children, and it warmed his heart.

“Look at this, babe,” you said, peering at your husband over your shoulder.

JJ abandoned his place on the couch, crouching down beside you to get a look at what you were showing him. It was an ornament, a very worn one. Inside laid a picture of the two of you, huddling together with bright, toothy grins and Santa hats on your heads. You couldn’t have been more than twelve years old at the time. Your parents had invited JJ to stay over for Christmas, knowing full well that Luke wouldn’t try to give him much of a memorable day. They’d gone over the top, getting double the amount of presents and matching pyjama sets for the both of you. You’d crafted gingerbread houses (in which JJ had tried to make a competition out of it and lost severely), drank copious amounts of hot chocolate, and watched Christmas movies until you slumped together on the couch in deep slumber.

JJ smiled fondly. Those times were so precious to him, then and now. He’d just started to recognize that he was nursing a crush on you, and being with you at your favourite time of the year only made him fall for you more. Sure, he was just a kid in middle school. But that didn’t mean he was too young to realize how much adoration he held for you in his heart.

“You were so cute,” you gushed, turning your face to him so you could kiss his cheek. “Baby JJ.”

He arched a brow. “You sayin’ I’m not cute anymore?”

A laugh bubbled from your throat. “Of course not. But look at those cheeks. So squishy.” You pinched one of his cheeks, maybe a tad too hard, and he shoved your hand away, massaging the soreness away.

“Ouch, baby.”

You leaned in to plant another kiss on the apple of his cheek but were interrupted when a sudden and spirited fight broke out between your daughters. Both of your heads snapped toward them, your shared bubble of love now popped.

“I want the star!” Elle insisted, clutching onto the golden tree topper with all her little might.

“No fair! You did it last time!” Avery’s arms crossed over her chest and she stomped as her tantrum began to surface.

JJ, sensing the inevitable meltdown about to ensue, intervened with his signature, charming grin. The one that had convinced you to marry him and had managed to give you two beautiful children. “Alright, ‘lil ladies. There’s no need to fight. You can both do it together, yeah? Can you do that?”

JJ’s hands reached out, tickling each of their sides and watching their twin frowns dissolve into smiles. Giggles filled the air and warmth bloomed in your chest instantly.

“Okay, Daddy,” Elle spoke, giving in to her favourite person in the world. Her eyes drifted onto her sister. “‘M sorry, Avey.”

“That’s real nice of you, Ellie,” JJ praised, kissing her temple. Then his gaze moved onto her sister. “How ‘bout you, Aves?”

Your eldest nodded, now looking bashful. Avery, ever the sweetest (despite her occasional outbursts), caved in the moment her little sister’s nickname for her hit her ears. “I’m sorry too. We can be a team.”

Your smile grew larger, making your face sore.

You and JJ had been through it all together. From friends to lovers, and everything in between. He’d plucked his heart out of his chest and handed it to you on a silver platter without thinking twice about it. The power of his love was almost surreal. But the most magical thing you got to witness while being with him was watching him transform into an amazing father. Sure, he was a goofball who was constantly bouncing off the walls with all that energy pumping through his veins twenty-four-seven, but when it came to your little girls, he was a natural. Hell, your theory was proven to be right yet again when he handled that impending tantrum with just the flash of his smile.

“What are you lookin’ at, goof?”

JJ’s voice broke you out of your daze. He was standing now, each of your girls propped up on both of his hips as he carried them. Avery and Elle eyed you curiously while their hands both held the golden star.

You gave him a shrug, walking over to them. Your arms wrapped around all three of them as best as you could manage. “You’re all just so lovely.”

JJ burned to kiss you. He almost did. But when Elle whined about how her arm was getting tired from holding the tree topper up, he was returned to reality.

The kiss can wait, he thought.

“Alright, my little star commanders. Let’s do this thing.”

He carefully stepped up onto the stool sitting in front of the large tree, and with a team effort, Avery and Elle strategically placed the star at the very top. They clapped and cheered together, high-fiving in victory once JJ stepped down and back to let them admire their work.

“Nice work, babies. You killed it.”

—

You passed through the living room and into the kitchen, taking note of the mistletoe that your husband had sneakily hung in the doorway. You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you headed over to the cupboard to grab some mugs and the hot chocolate mix. As you waited for the milk to warm up, your eyes landed on the alternate entrance into the kitchen. More mistletoe dangled from the doorframe. You knew without a doubt that you’d find it in every entryway that adorned your home.

You made all four cups, completing them with dollops of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. You placed them on your wooden tray, but before you could pick it up and bring it to your family, strong arms wrapped around your frame. The owner’s chin dropped onto your shoulder after leaving a kiss there.

“Hi, Mama,” he rasped. You could hear the mischievous grin in his tone. “These look amazing.”

“I figured we deserved something sweet for all our hard work,” you responded. You turned around in his hold, your hands running up the lengths of his arms and coming to a stop on his shoulders. “Nice job with the mistletoe, by the way.”

He shrugged casually, but his smirk only grew wider. “Can’t be out here wasting any opportunities. Y’know I can’t live without your kisses.”

“Mhm.”

“Hey. ‘M serious. Gotta be prepared.” JJ pulled something from his pocket, and his arm raised over your heads. “See? Prepared.”

You laughed softly, leaning up to peck his lips. “You don’t need to carry that around. I’ll kiss you any time you want.”

“That a promise?”

“The biggest promise, Maybank. Those lips are mine.” You granted him another kiss, this one languid and loving. “Now let’s go check up on our troublemakers. It’s way too quiet in there.”

—

The four of you settled in on your couch, the fireplace glowing and providing a coziness to the room. You all found refuge under one of your thick, fluffy blankets, with both girls plopped in yours and JJ's laps. The soft, golden cast of the lights on your tree illuminated the room enchantingly.

Avery nestled against JJ, her head resting comfortably on his chest, while Elle found a cozy spot in your hold. The familiar tune of Where Are You, Christmas filled the room, Cindy Lou Who’s sweet voice carrying out the lullaby that seemed to put everyone at ease.

As the plot unfolded, the Grinch was giving a dramatic monologue at the annual Whobilation festival in Whoville. Even with all the chaos ensuing as the he burned the town tree and destroyed the celebration, Avery’s eyes drooped, and Elle’s rhythmic breathing told you that she was already fast asleep. You shifted her into a more comfortable position gently and looked over at JJ. His eyes were fixated on the sleeping girls, a soft smile playing on his rosy lips.

“I’ve dreamt of nights like this.” His voice carried in a whisper, careful not to wake the kids up.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, his expression clear with contentment. “Yeah. When I was younger, I’d just sit ‘n imagine what it’d be like to have a home, a family…all of this. Luke never gave me any of that.”

His arms tightened around Avery, who curled into his chest further in her sleep. “Never thought I’d have this, y’know? Never thought I’d get to call you my wife — I still can’t believe I get to call you that, by the way. Or have a real home, a real family. I love you guys more than I ever thought I could.”

“We love you. The girls are crazy about you, ‘n so am I. We’re so lucky to have you, baby.” You extended your arm toward him, placing your hand on his shoulder and giving him a comforting squeeze.

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m lucky. You made this real for me. I never thought I deserved any of this, but you never stopped trying to convince me that I could have it all. This is all ‘cause of you, pretty girl.”

“It was a team effort,” you assured him. “The house, the girls. Our life. This was both of us.”

“When you talk like that, it makes me wanna give you another baby.”

You bit your lip through an uneasy smile. “I don’t think it’s gonna take that much work…”

His blonde brows pulled together in confusion. “Huh?”

“I’m pregnant.”

JJ’s eyes widened once the words sank in, showcasing a mixture of surprise and overwhelming joy. His smile was so bright that it gave your decorated tree some tough competition.

“Really?” He whispered, breathless.

You nodded, your smile mirroring his. He’d always had that effect on you, always had such contagious enthusiasm. “Yeah. Looks like we’re getting our dream again.”

With a lack of better judgment, JJ let out a whoop of excitement that echoed throughout the room. He had temporarily forgotten about the peaceful slumber that had taken over your girls. “Fuck yeah!”

You giggled softly, placing a finger on your lips and shushing him. “Shh. You’re gonna wake them.”

He half-ignored your words, leaning in to kiss you deeply. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled against your lips. “‘M just excited.”

“It’s okay, babe. I’m happy you’re happy.”

Your head tilted, resting on his shoulder. You settled further into the couch, feeling the warmth of the joyful news you’d just shared. JJ swore to himself that he didn’t think he could get any luckier, but in a matter of mere moments, he learned that he was wrong. Your family was expanding, and there was more love to be shared. Love he didn’t even know he had in him. Each time you have a child, it grows more and more, yet it still shocks him every time it appears on his doorstep.

JJ’s head rested against yours after he kissed your hair. If this was how he’d live out the rest of his days — surrounded by the beautiful family you two had created together, he’d never want for anything else. His dream came true, now four times over.

TAGS: @taintedxkisses @findapenny @bmo-bri @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @rafetopia @poppet05 @lyndys @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @drudyslut @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @peachpitlover @sya-skies @emmalandry @urbestieboo @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17 @abbybarnesstuff @lovelyxtom @camelliaflow3r @runningfrom2am @rcbuttercup @redhead1180 @luversgirl @thejuleshypothesis @scarlettocean @subconsciouscollapse @vivian-555 @violetmacher @drewstarkeyslut @hoeforstarkey24

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warframe1999 · 4 months ago

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WARFRAME 1999 RETRO OROKIN TRANSLATIONS!

i’m having some major brainrot and took a Long While to walk around the mall and screenshot things that i wanted to know more about. here’s some of the stuff i found :)

these are pretty simple: a movie poster for a film called “dark shadow,” a 70% off sale, and a coffee vending machine with a pretty nice selection to be honest. what a nice mall, brings back my mallrat memories :)

here we have some graffiti. because of the stylistic handwriting, it’s hard to figure out what some of it says, but i got some of it deciphered. please, tell me what you think they say where i couldn’t crack it!

the mall map! there were only a couple i was unsure of, please let me know your thoughts as well. i loved that big bytes pizza was on there! and the little sad face by the out of business restaurant.

some more graffiti. i know. i literally don’t know what this is supposed to mean. but i got a good laugh out of it LOL.

CALIBER CHICKS!!!!!! as i wrote on the pic, i would legitimately play these games i love the art for them.

i have a few more translations, but i’ll post them separately! please let me know your thoughts. i am so so so unbelievably excited for this update.

#warframe 1999 #warframe #warframe spoilers #loreshots #theories #arthur nightingale #aoi morohoshi #amir beckett #lettie garcia #leticia garcia #eleanor nightingale #quincy isaacs #albrecht entrati #tennocon 2024

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ticklygiggles · 2 months ago

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Lovelynim's tickletober Day 6: Order

King!Kuroo x Royal tickler!Daichi | [n$fw-ish]

A/N: This is an AU that has been in my head for YEARS I kid you not. It is based on that post about royal ticklers in monarchy. I don't have the link, but iykyk I guess lol enjoy~

Nothing really happens, but there are implied mentions of n$fw topics.

"My King." Daichi bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the floor. "There are no words to express my gratitude, please tell me what I can do to serve you."

Who would have thought that a simple commoner like him would be recruited by the King himself? Daichi wasn't sure if he had done anything in particular to draw the King's attention, but he didn't give it much thought either; serving a monarch of his caliber was more than Daichi could ever wish for.

Kuroo chuckled, making a small gesture with his hand that made all the other servants to quickly retreat. "Sawamura Daichi. Thank you for accepting my proposal to work for me, I am very happy to have you here." Daichi smiled widely and noticed how the King's cat eyes darkened a little.

"First of all, Daichi. I must tell you that the job I'm offering you is very confidential. Very few people in my kingdom know about it." Daichi tensed as he watched the King standing up from his throne. He approached him with light, slow steps and Daichi's heart raced madly. Once the king was in front of him, Daichi could barely breathe and remain calm.

"I give you the freedom to choose to stay or leave after hearing my proposal," he continued, "however, you must swear on behalf of your own head that you will never, regardless of your choice, say a single word about this to anyone."

Daichi blinked, the king was just a few centimeters away from him, he could feel the heat emanating from his body and his eyes couldn't help but wander along the line of the king's collarbone; his loose clothing left his chest and part of his toned stomach exposed. Daichi gulped and his eyes quickly looked up at the king again.

"Are you scared?" The king purred and Daichi quickly shook his head, making the king chuckle.

"I'm not and I promise, whatever I decide, I will never say anything about it."

Kuroo smiled. "Very good. I'll be clear and concise. Daichi, I want you to be my royal tickler."

Daichi blinked. "R-Royal tickler? As in... tickle you, Your Highness?"

The king chuckled again, one of his hands hiding his smile as a soft pink hue assaulted his cheeks. Daichi widened his eyes, that was certainly adorable. "That is correct, Daichi. I have... a peculiar attraction to tickling, you see. All I want is for you to come to my chambers at night, whenever I order you, and tickle me until I'm screaming in ecstasy. What do you say?"

Daichi was speechless. His mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water and the king laughed softly. The king had really just asked him that? Was it a joke? A test?

"Don't overthink it, Daichi. I like you, so of course I would like you to please me at night, but if it's too much to ask, like I said, you're free to-"

"I'll do it!" Daichi gasped, lowering his head. "I- I mean... I'll gladly do it, Your Highness. If you find this lowly one to your liking and think I can do a good job pleasing you, then please, accept me as your servant."

Daichi bowed again, but jumped slightly when cold fingers touched his chin. As he raised his face, his breath caught in his throat, for the king was millimeters away from his face, looking at him with a gleam in his golden eyes that sent a chill down Daichi's spine.

"Well then, Daichi. This is your first order: tickle your king until he's begging for mercy. Can you do that?"

Daichi's hands moved on its own and gripped the king's sides, very close to his hip bones. Daichi's fingers trembled, his eyes unable to stop looking at the king's, and he started tickling him and when he heard the king's loud, hysterical laughter and saw the blush deepening on his face and noticed the way his body moved and arched into the tickling, he thought that he had really been extremely lucky to be chosen to spoil this man.

After all, he couldn't deny he fancied the king, but that was a talk for another time.

#lovelytickletober #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! tickling #kurodai #kuroo tetsurou #sawamura daichi #ticklish!Kuroo #royalty au #tickle fic #mia's things #spicy #n$fw #n$fw-ish

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lowkeyrobin · 4 months ago

Note

finn wolfhard and reader dating hcs and/or friendship hcs?

- 🗡️

okay I can definitely try for you!! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!! ; also sorry this is so short I had no ideas

FINN WOLFHARD ; dating shenanigans

summary ; dating stuff w finn

warnings ; language

word count ; 246

masterlist

he's super chill

really balances you both out personality wise

you're both always taking dumbass pictures of each other

music is a must 24/7

you're always trying out new recipes

and he's always finding new shows / movies to watch

you met at a los campesinos concert

you quickly became friends cause you got sat next to each other and were matching each others vibe really well

after the show you got donuts and fast food together

and then you traded contact info 🫶

you didn't learn he was an actor til after a year of knowing him LOL

you're the one who confessed first

you took him to a record store and paid for whatever he got

and you picked up an album full of love songs and made a joke ab it

"wow, these encapsulate my feelings for you"

you received a raised eyebrow and then a little smile

you took it outside and agreed upon going on a date lol

he's not big on pda, maybe a 2/10

a little kiss on the lips/cheek but he's a lowkey person

he's not very jealous either

again, he's chill as hell

he'll step in when he has to but he'll awkwardly stand around like 🧍‍♂️

lmfaoo

and finally some songs 🫶

owner operator ; sidewalk & the wheely bin

home ; good neighbors

dinner date ; sunrise academy

faster car ; loving caliber

somewhere in my heart ; aztec camera

everywhere ; fleetwood mac

monday morning ; fleetwood mac

#lowkeyrobin #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #actor x reader #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard oneshot #finn wolfhard #🗡 anon

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

Note

Monster reader is my top fav of ALL readers.

Like just imagine if Monster reader just wanted food so they go into a place that looks like it has food. And somehow walks into a cult meeting that give their upmost dedication to some monster god that looks similar to monster reader lol.

“ Today, we have come together to give our upmost dedication and beliefs into our savior. Our savior who gave us our life and our creation! And that is why today, we will be sacrificing this fool who dared to disrespect- Door opens

“ Oh. Sorry for interrupting, but I was wondering if you have any spare food?”

“….. OUR SAVIOR HAS FINALLY RETURNED!”

“ FORGIVE US FOR BASKING IN YOUR PRESENCE WITH ASKING MY LORD!! EVERYONE GET ON YOUR KNEES AND PRAY FOR FORGIVENESS!”

Lol.

(small mention of gore)

Two months, fourteen days, and five hours.

The longest you've ever went without food. If you were human, the time frame would have held a heavy tax on your body if not killing you out right, but all it did leave was dull pains in your abdomen. During said period, you found a nice cave to sleep in and recover from the injuries sustained in your escape from the facility that stole you from your home. The rest cured your broken bones and scrapes, but unfortunately like every living creature - you needed to eat.

The area you resided in didn't have much going for it in the food category. Most of the edible plants and berries had been picked clean, and you were took out of practice to hunt for your meal. Being locked in a white room with meat thrown at you randomly really put you out of shape in more ways than one. Your fears of having to leave the forest were extinguished with the discovery of an old wrapper found one evening near a neck of the woods you had yet to explore.

The guards at that place walked around with similar papers, filling you with unease, but that anxiety goes out the door the second your nose picks up on a familiar smell. Raw meat.

Climbing over some rocks, you spot a collection of wooden enclosures with strange symbols painted atop. The books the researchers made you read never talked about those. Their knowledge led you to the conclusion that these buildings were cabins and the one where that alluring smell was coming from was the closest to you. There was noise from the neighboring buildings, but if you acted quietly then maybe you could just grab enough food to hold you off for a while and they'd be none the wiser.

Creeping past the red tap that secludes the camp from the rest of the forest, a shrill scream pierces the heavens. It pins you to place, the memories of the cellmates you lost rushing to mind. Is someone hurt? Despite your experiences with others, you wanted to help, but you needed strength in case of any danger.

You hurry to the door, breaking the lock and flinging yourself into the darkness. Your advanced sight guides you through the shadows and straight to your prize. The blinding light from the icebox is the most beautiful pain you've ever witnessed. Forgetting the manners you learned overtime, you claw open various bags of dead flesh and wolf down whatever you can get your hands on. A few of the bags have names on them, but you're too hungry to care why. Bewteen the wet squish of your teeth gnashing shut, a hush blows through the crowd forming outside.

"I told you I heard something, dude. Probably a fucking bear or something. It's eating the reserves."

"Relax. I'll handle it."

The light flickers on. You've been found The guilt you felt for eating the human's food without asking turns into panic as the first thing you see is the barrel of a shotgun pointed square blank at your face. You drop the meat in your hands and cower against the back wall; your first week of freedom spent pushing bullets of the same caliber out your spine. Your lips curl over your teeth as it clatters to the ground in front of you, still afraid as if it could do anything without a handler.

"Could it be?..."

You look up at the robed figures filling the room, the creases of their faces twisted in awe or fright. The first to fall is the one holding the weapon, followed by the rest of their group as they fall to their knees, bowing their heads and rising their hands in prayer. One of the memb pulls out another still standing in shock above you.

"The day of your arrival has finally come. Forgive us, Master. We didn't recognize you at first in such a weak state. Please spare us of your spite."

Master? That's an odd name. You quite liked the one a kind human gave you once. Y/n rolls off the tongue nicer.

"If you still require sustenance, we will leave you to your feast unless you'd prefer the fresher product of our harvest. If I may offer a suggestion, we can mend your clothes and prepare you a bath to cleanse you of our tainted blood."

Bath. Those were the only highlight of the facility. Why are these people being so nice to you compared to them? It made you feel terrible considering you were the one that broke into their home. Hunger beating the conflicting emotions, you continue to eat the meat until your stomach could carry no more. You probably stopped a few bites before you reached maximum capacity due to all the eyes on you making you a little uncomfortable.

You step out of the cabin, wiping your mouth with the bottom of your shirt to be polite. The cult watches your every move, but not one person makes a peep. Considering you were the center of attention, they must be waiting for you.

"Um... hello."

The members of the cult collectively lose their minds.

"Our messiah! They speak! To lowly beings as us."

"It really is them! I'm sorry for ever doubting your presence, my lord."

"This form suits you best in my expert opinion. Let us gather in celebration for your arrival."

They gather around you, examining your claws and taking measurements of your body to prepare proper clothing for you. The questions and praise your bombarded with make your head spin, but soon enough you're led to a bathing house in another cabin and your stress is washed away by the warm water and those who tend to your mated clothes and hair. Not long into your bath, others come with robes for you to wear. They sob and shrivel beneath your words of thanks, everyone here does.

After dinner where you sit at the head of the table, too full to eat a bite of food, you're allowed to wonder the grounds until your cabin has been fully furnished. You enter the room where the screams originated from hours ago, shocked by what you discover.

A mural of a beast similar to you was painted on the far wall in fine paint and what smelled like blood. Dual irises, onyx fangs, the cross scar in the center of its chest. This creature was you, a bigger, menacing and all powerful you. Below the painting was a dead human spilt open from sternum to belly, the bones broken away and organs scooped clean. Backing away from the scene, you bump into someone.

"We are so glad that you've come to us, Master. Please grant us the lasting benefit of your presence for the rest of our days - and beyond

#Yandere cult #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere harem #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #monster reader

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isagrimorie · 7 months ago

Note

in case you still were unsure, the photo of the three female convicts is definitely AI! a few things i can list without thinking too much cause im a sleepy fella:

-the tattoos are all nonsense

-they would not have access to heavy makeup, hair styling products, and the hours of free time those looks require if they were in prison uniforms (they're not really, they're in tight orange t-shirts because it's "sexier", but they wouldn't all be wearing them if it weren't MEANT to be a uniform)

-there are a ton of supposed convicts in the photo with no security around

-the bench is just full of sexy convicts, and none of the legal staff that should be there

-theyre practically identical feature-wise, it would be nearly impossible for them not to be related; if this clickbait video contained a set of relatives being sentenced together, they would be using that fact more explicitly, as part of the bait

-if you watch the video they aren't there

-the "camera" is a weirdly high, glossy quality with an artistic angle and framing. it is not composed like a normal courtroom photograph

-it also can't be a painting, both due to the first reason listed (an artist of this caliber would paint real dang tattoos), and because this would be a several hundred dollar art piece commission & this is a cheap clickbait video someone edited from footage they don't own

-if you look through that channels videos you'll probably find a thumbnail somewhere that you CAN recognize as ai, and from there you can see all kinds of similarities to ones like this where you couldn't

ai art is definitely 'improving', but beyond just visual flaws, critical thinking and research can still help a lot with identifying it as it advances (but i know that's kind of a pain in the ass for most people lol, im just autistic and overanalyze everything anyway, figured i may as well lend that trait out to others who need it)

Thank you for validating my hunch! I thought they were too alike and had the plastic sheen of a CGI character at its second pass!

Honestly disturbing. Because we know technology improves and I hate where it’s going.

#ai generated

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my-my-my · 1 month ago

Text

Happy Halloween! And 3rd anniversary to my Aizen x Reader Halloween fic! I originally planned to reblog the fic today, but to my surprise, I never posted it on tumblr, I only provided the AO3 link to it. So voila, here is the fic for tumblr viewing.

Chapter 2 can be found here (which I did post on tumblr?? I genuinely don't know what I was thinking not posting the first chapter here lol).

Summary: [Modern AU, Halloween theme] Being a grad student is hard, dating is even harder. You weren't even sure if Aizen's your boyfriend, but you want him to come to this Halloween party. Too bad he's "busy".

TW: Aizen's a bit of a creep. Chapter 2 features stalking, spanking, costume sex.

Word count: 1773.

Read on AO3 here.

Halloween was fast approaching on campus. Midterm exams and assignments were done with, a small reprieve for you and your fellow classmates. For now, you and your cohort could focus on your theses without distraction, and have a few Halloween parties here and there – and lucky for all of you, Halloween fell on a Saturday.

Your friend, Midori had found out from a group of older PhD students that a Halloween party was happening on an old estate just on the outskirts of the city. The two of you didn’t know if it was an abandoned estate or not, but the two of you, and a few of your friends, Akon, Yamada Hanataro and Kuchiki Rukia, decided to attend.

The five of you talked eagerly about costume plans in your graduate student lounge. Would all of you go as a group costume? “Maybe we could be the Karakura Superheroes? That’d be fun!” Rukia suggested, her eyes wide with awe.

“Ugh no, let’s not. I’m not too into the thought of wearing spandex with the amount of drinking and candy eating we’ll be doing” Midori said.

“Hey, did you ask Ai-“ Midori turned to you, but you cut her off, not wanting to answer the question.

“That’s a good point. Maybe we should just go as separate costumes.” You pondered, and secretly wished for. You had an idea of what you wanted to wear and had already purchased some details to compliment your costume.

“Yeah, that’ll save us time, we can’t keep hashing out ideas like this. Before you know it, Saturday’s here and we’ll have no costumes. I don’t think they’ll let us in without one.” Akon drawled out, scrolling through his phone, not noticing Midori’s unanswered question.

“And money’s been tight for me too,” Hanataro sheepishly said, “I was hoping to wear my costume from last year” he nervously laughed.

“Chappy?!” Rukia shouted, slamming her hands on the table.

“y-yeah! Chappy. Can’t go wrong with ol’ faithful” Hanataro continued on with his nervous laughter, knowing how much Rukia adored Chappy in any iteration. Before Rukia could start her confession on how much she loved Chappy, you bid your friends goodbye and further questions from Midori. Your phone chimed with the alarm that it was time to head to your tutorial, which was on the other side of campus.

Walking your way to your tutorial building, you mulled over what Midori was about to ask,

“Hey did you ask Aizen-san to come?”

You weren’t even sure how to answer that. You only went on three dates (that you were counting), with sparse texts here and there. You weren’t even sure if he was interested in you, he was just so busy. Everyone spoke so highly of him, his CV was impressive, and of course he had a few student admirers too.

It amazed you that he asked you out. He was a psychiatrist who went back to academia and was working towards his PhD, as if his MD wasn’t enough. The two of you had a few classes here and there, and you were certain a man of his caliber, at his age, was married, but he wasn’t.

Everything about him confused you, and the few moments you had with him, left you wanting to know more. But that was enough about Aizen for now, as the undergrads lined up waiting to have their statistics questions answered.

The hour and a half tutorial went by surprisingly fast. Your students slowly trickled out of the classroom, some staying behind to ask you a few more questions. Professor Senjumaru Shutara made an emphasis that Teaching Assistants would stay long until the last student left, unless the TA had to leave for their own classes. So you patiently answered the remaining students until you were alone.

As you packed away your things, you checked your phone for any notifications. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw a text from Aizen.

“Are you free in half an hour? Let’s grab coffee at the Yazawa Café? My treat.”

You couldn’t help by smile, and typed up your response, “I just finished my tutorial, I’ll see you soon” ending your text with a smiley face.

The warm smells of freshly brewed coffee and tea wafted in the air as you entered the Yazawa Café. The place was quieting down, but there were still some people that added to the ambiance of the café. You spotted Aizen in a secluded corner with some plants, as if he didn’t want to be found. He leaned back in his seat, with his glasses resting on the table, as he pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought.

“Sousuke-san, I hope you weren’t waiting long” you murmured, watching him slowly open his eyes. They held such intensity that it startled you. You realized his glasses softened his intense gaze.

He quickly placed his glasses, his eyes appearing soft again as he ruffled his hair. “I wasn’t waiting at all. I just got here as well.” He smiled, sitting up from his seat as the two of you walked towards the counter.

“What do you think you’ll get, Sousuke-san?” You asked politely, inspecting the menu. The coffee menu was fairly standard you thought, but the teas piqued your interest as you saw a variety of blends available. Unconsciously you bit your lip as you looked at the chocolate strawberry cake as well.

“Have you made a decision?” Aizen asked as the Barista called the both of you forward.

“Oh yes, I’d like to try the betsujyo sencha blend.”

Aizen gave you a gentle smile, “Have you had it before? It’s a pleasantly refreshing tea.” He explained.

“No I haven’t, but it sounds like you have. If it’s Sousuke-san approved, then it’s good enough for me.” You smiled brightly.

He chuckled and told the Barista his order, “and I’ll have the kabusecha and a slice of chocolate strawberry cake”. As soon as Aizen paid, the Barista handed an elegant white plate with a slice of cake to Aizen. “Oh no” he explained, “this is for her” he motioned towards you, handing you the plate.

“Me? But I didn’t –”

Aizen chuckled, “you were looking at the cake intensely, and you’re probably hungry after your tutorial”. You couldn’t help but blush at how well he could read you so instantly, it was a bit unnerving sometimes. It was unfair in a way, you thought, how he could pick up little bits about you and guess correctly, while he remained a mystery.

“Thank you, but you’re having some of this too! May I please have an extra fork?” You asked the Barista. Once the two of you had your teas, you made your way back to your secluded corner.

“Thank you again for paying for drinks and the cake, Sousuke-san.” You murmured, taking a small sip of your tea.

“It’s not a problem. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” Aizen said softly, “how have your classes been going this term? I’m surprised I don’t have at least one with you.”

You laughed and relaxed back in your chair, stretching your arms out. You talked about how you only had one class this semester, and you were hoping to finish your thesis by the end of next term. You always felt at ease speaking with Aizen. He was an attentive listener and you felt like the two of you could talk about anything and everything under the sun.

Unaware of the time, you quickly checked your phone. You were startled, the two of you spending almost three hours chatting.

“Oh Sousuke-san, I have to leave…” you hesitated, not wanting to leave his side yet. “If you don’t have plans, would you like to come over to my place for dinner? I owe you for the tea and cake!” You explained, becoming flustered, but staring directly at him.

Aizen looked surprised, but gave you a soft smile, “I’d like that. Well then, lead the way.” The two of you left the café, with you filled with excitement and joy knowing you were spending more time with him.

You weren’t sure how dinner ended up with the two of you on your couch, kissing passionately. Both your cheeks were rosy, lips slightly sore from the intensity, and you became acutely aware of how strong Aizen’s grip was on your hips.

A hand left your hip as Aizen gripped your head again as you steadied your gaze on him. His eyes were sharp, almost as if he was inspecting you with great care. Cheeks lightly dusted with pink, lips turned in a smirk as he pressed your lips against his once again. You sighed into him as you felt his tongue enter your mouth.

Butterflies danced in your stomach as you pushed him away. You tried to steady yourself again to regain your breaths. Aizen relaxed his grip as he nuzzled your neck, kissing along it. Although you felt content in his arms, it was time for him to go. You had an early meeting with your supervisor.

“What’s on your mind?” Aizen asked, as he gazed back at you.

But you didn’t want the night to end. You didn’t know when you would see him again. Sighing, you took a deep breath, “I have a meeting tomorrow morning, so I have to sleep soon,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze and staring at the collar of his shirt. “When can I see you again?”

Aizen leaned back into your couch, pulling you into his chest as he stroked your hair. The lull of his heartbeat putting you at ease. You could feel sleep calling to you, with Aizen’s hypnotic voice not helping the matter.

“Unfortunately not for a while.”

“Are you free Halloween evening at least?” You asked, “there’s a party my friends and I are going to – some of the other PhD students planned it, I’d love it if you came with me.” You pulled out your phone and showed him the silly graphic with the party details. Aizen looked intently in the screening – a part of you wondered if he was remembering the details.

Aizen gave you a sad smile, “unfortunately I’m doing a rotation that night” he explained. Disappointment washed over your face, which Aizen chuckled lightly at, “but send me a photo of your costume, I’d love to know what you’re going as.” Kissing you lightly on your forehead.

Another sigh escaped your lips, “alright”.

You bid him goodnight, but not without another kiss. As you saw Aizen walk off into the distance, you felt the familiar, yet sad ache in your heart.

Chapter 2

Happy Halloween!

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fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Note

Hello plz feel free to replace my Eunbi ask with a Rose daddy kink feet smut. She has maybe my fave feet for K idol and I dream of the day I can see this smut published. White polish Rose feet stuff, licking, sucking, tasting, feet fucking ofc, and also getting her pussy pounded cumming inside, but also cumming all over her feet. Plot line you can decide. Thanks QT.

The Interview

Male Reader x Roseanne Park

Length: 2188 words

Tags: feet kink, cheating, daddy kink, an interview gone wild, infidelity, fucking feet, feet licking, footjob, masturbation, creampie, hair pulling, cum drinking, rough sex, folding in half

TW: no editing lol

(A/N: the final request of my first request phase back in early 2022. This one is so old, sorry that you had to wait for so long buddy @sooyadelicacies. I hope you enjoy it lol)

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

"W-well, it's hard to focus, like, your legs are literally pointing down at them. Your sandals barely hide the rosie!"

Rose rolls her eyes. Slender arms folded like a pretzel, she leans back into the beige cushion of her chair, fifteen-hundred, made for her ass and her ass alone. In annoyance she watches her useless boyfriend put the back of his pen on her calves but even a heavy sigh does not stop his advance. In one continuous trail, he drags the pen to her knee before she stops him with a snarky remark.

"Will you stop it? This is important to me. I need your focus on this." She taps the clipboard in his hand, knowing all too well that his horny ass has not written down a single practice question. "Please practice this with me."

"Nah, I'd much rather practice with my cock in your pussie, Rosie~" he responds, face in a smirk so disgustingly self-satisfied at his pathetic attempt at a joke that no one would argue with him looking downright ugly. Rose turns to the side, arms entangled rightly.

"You don't give a fuck about this, hm?" Rose fires back and grips her boyfriend's wrist. "We can fuck afterwards, but not now. I need your help, so please, at least try to act like a journalist."

There he goes again, blank stare focussed on her feet, her face, turning to a smirk as he finds another horny rebuttal:

"I'm no journalist, I'd much rather be an explorer. I could write books about how smooth your legs feel and how tight your pussy is."

"He is a journalist, he can surely write better than you can ever dream off!"

Rose's shout makes the room go quiet. Not that there were more people anywhere near them—but it feels like every atom has stopped moving and only motionless, perfect silence remains. Her boyfriend sinks backwards into the couch, arms folded the same way she has, an eyebrow raised in more than light concern.

"Oh. It's a guy doing the interview?"

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

You straighten your neck, terrified at Rose’s carelessly spoken words. It was only for a fleeting moment that your eyes caught her bare feet, the way her slender legs seem to point down at them, it was impossible not to look. You could promise her that this was only because she decided not to wear any shoes, which would have explained it, but nonetheless, you are in deep shit.

“Excuse my behavior, please,” you quickly respond, beads of sweat forming at the side of your temple. “I was just spacing out. I know I shouldn’t, but please, forgive me.”

“You’re taking this too seriously,” Rose laughs and leans back into her chair. “Is this your first interview with…”

“With someone of your caliber—yes, though I have never felt nervousness rise in me to the point such a mistake happens. I really am sorry.” You bow your head to the idol, hoping to overplay any and every thought of her thinking that you’re thinking about her feet in all kinds of ways. “Shall we begin?”

You pull out your recording device, ready to hit play and make this the professional question and answer session it was supposed to be, but Rose interjects. God knows what she is thinking when she leans forward, slender fingers right above your thigh, voice husky and deep.

“You want them on your cock, right?”

“What?!”

“You want my feet around your cock, right

“Daddy?”

“E-excuse me?!”

“I can see you drooling.” Rose captures a string of saliva with her thumb, blowing away your coverage behind decency, and spreading it over your dry lips. “I can see the want in your eyes when you look at my feet. Aren’t they pretty?”

“R-Rose, this is highly—”

"Inappropriate?" she asks, a look of brattiness and disappointment on her stunning features as her pointy, purple painted nail pokes your cheek. “Inappropriate, like staring at a lady’s feet while fantasizing about them?”

“I-I told you I’m sorry. A-and I was not fantasizing in the slightest.”

Your explanation ends with a wince. The pointy ends of Rose’s delicate fingers sink into the skin of your neck. You throw your head back. The pain is sharp, severe enough that you want it to end, but your hands still tightly hold onto the clipboard and recording device.

“Now you’re lying, Daddy.” Rose repeats that damn word without care. “Why can’t you admit that you like my feet?”

“Because…” you stammer, trying to escape the idol by sinking deeper into the couch, but Rose gets closer to you. Her face right above yours, her thighs trapping yours, her other hand is right on your—

“Because then I wouldn’t be able to hold back!”

Rose is gone, the small of her back back in her seat, her entire body far away from yours. Her entire body? No. You could never forget about her bare feet, which she raises from the carpet and places them on your piping hot bulge. In an attempt at torture, she giggles while rubbing you in between her tiny toes, curling them, pressing them against the head of your hidden cock.

“What if I don’t want you to hold back?” she whispers and fiddles with the top of her dress.

“Rose, I—”

"Don’t talk, Daddy, just

“Take me.”

Drop these useless devices, there will be no record of what is about to happen. Rose’s last sentence has ended the interview before it even started. If you can’t talk with your mouth, your hands will have to do the talking. Nothing stops you from popping open your dress pants, yanking them down your legs, your bulge the only real(ly massive) obstacle, and getting a hold of Rose’s feet.

She smiles, pale cheeks blushing at your sight and the feeling of your cock on her soles. You adjust them, making a perfect pocket to thrust into, but before you can jerk your hips upwards, Rose has taken the lead with this absolutely dreamy look in her eyes.

“Oh Daddy~” Rose moans and moves her feet up and down your length. “You are so big and girthy. Let me worship you with my feet, pretty please.”

“I-I… you’re already doing it, Rosie,” you hiss, her soft soles feeling incredible, yet you wish for some kind of lubrication for things to go smoothly.

Rose nods, her breathing getting more rapid by the second: “It’s just that I—I can’t hold back anymore. Daddy, I need to make you cover my feet, Daddy!”

Not holding back, not holding back, not—you grab Rose’s left calf and as she still yelps in shock, you put her toes in your mouth. With all manners thrown out of the window, you slobber all over her pretty little foot, spit covering every inch of her spotless skin. Rose starts to moan, her other foot teasing the sensitive underside of your shaft, forcing droplets of clean precum out of the tip.

Done with one foot, you take the other and everything leads up to this vicious cycle of covering one foot in drool while the other massages your member, smearing it with your saliva. You take a second to open your eyes and look at the idol before you. She has melted into the chair, biting the fingers of one hand while the other is rubbing her clothed crotch.

"Take them off," you mindlessly groan, before your tongue twirls around her toes. "Take off your clothes for Daddy."

Rose is eager to nod at you using the uncalled for, yet not unwanted nickname. Her eagerness does not stop there however, as she is quick to get rid of her tight white outfit, the thin strings fly over her head, her skirt travels down her legs. Before they reach her feet, she starts to jerk you off, keeping you hard and horny the few short seconds without stimulation.

"Daddy, please plaster your thick cum on my feet!" Rose moans as she inserts two fingers into her cunt.

"I won't hold back."

Pull her ankles close to you. Rose almost falls off her chair, eyes in surprise, then bliss. She is piercing herself open, her fragile legs weak, fully under her control. She loses her mind, you help her lose it and you lose your mind, she helps you lose it and you lose your train of thought—fuck it, fuck her feet.

"Daddy, y-you really seem to like me feet~"

"Fuck, they are the softest."

Move your hips back and forth, her ankles forth and back, squeeze them tighter around your cock. Watch your tip poke through it, watch Rose's finger move in and out, watch her tongue fall out of her mouth. It's all getting you closer, your breathing is rapid, Rose's too. Is she also—

"Daddy, I'm so~close~" the idol mewls and you thrust faster.

"Finger yourself stupid!" you command. "Watch me paint your feet, fuck!"

Rose's eyes tremble. She can barely focus on your erupting cock as her own sex explodes in a violent, squirting orgasm that leaves her thighs and chair in a messy, wet puddle. A deep, echoing, dumb sounding scream comes from her wide open mouth. She is the opposite of you, quietly relishing in the bliss of a climax that sends strings of cum all over soles, feet, even up to her legs.

Before the tremble of Rose's legs makes your semen fall off of them onto the carpet, you quickly fold her in half. The surprisingly flexible woman now has her cum-covered feet dangling above her delirious, glowing face.

"Open your mouth, baby girl," you whisper and watch Rose instinctively stick out her tongue. Your cum drips from her thin legs and feet straight on her face. Rose licks off whatever she can get in desperate desire, while you poke her exposed labia with your stiff cock.

"How does it taste?" you jokingly ask, ready to penetrate her pristine pussy.

"Is this really the first question to your interview?"

"There was an interview?"

Oh fuck.

"Oh fuck!" Rose vocalizes your inner thought as her pussy engulfs your entire length. You can feel her sensitive walls wrap around you, cling onto you, like she wants to squeeze more of your initial load out of you. No, you first have to get there, but with this incredible tightness and her insanely lewd expression as she swallows your dripping cum, she will have you cumming in no time.

"F-forget the interview," Rose whines. "I'll send you the answers per, per mail."

"No, we'll do the interview. Now," you growl at her, fingers tightly grabbing her small thighs. "You'll answer truthfully, baby girl."

"Hng, I-I can't think!"

"No need to. Just tell me: who fucks you better?"

"Wha—ah!"

Rose screams, laughs when you tickle her feet by spreading the remnants of your first load over her soles. Through all of it you start to thrust slower but harder, the depths of her cunt spread widely by your tip. You watch Rose throw her head back and decide to ask again.

"Who fucks you better, Rose? Your boyfriend or me?"

"You, oh God, you!"

"And who did you wear this white polish for?"

"Y-you, I'm only fucking you."

You ponder for a second, resting a hand on her throat. Rose suddenly has these puppy eyes that lack lewdness but increase your desire to dump a ridiculously large second load in her tight cunt.

"God, you look so breedable," you groan and lean down to her face, strands of rose-gold hair not hiding but increasing her stunningness. "But remember: I'm the one fucking you."

"Yes, Daddy." Rose seems to brace for a hard final fucking, but you don't want to give it to her. You feel great, fully inside her small pussy, her juices around you, keeping you wet and warm.

"Final question, Mrs. sluttiest idol:

"Where do you want my seed?"

"I need it in my pussy, Daddy~"

"You need it?"

"Of course, Daddy~ Fill me up!"

A loving thumb crazing her cheek, that's your final showing of mercy. Her ponytail in one hand, clit pinch with the other, you start to jackhammer into Rose's pussy with all the power the word 'Daddy' has given you. You won't be able to keep this up for long, but Rose is already a mess, nothing compared to the powerful idol from before.

She wants to be the little messy nothing on the chair, drilled by a big cock, her painted feet high in the air, her pussy convulsing. That's the way she wants to milk you, get your seed, and with a final thrust (and final, very harsh pull on her hair) you start to cum inside her.

"So warm, Daddy, ah!"

Fuck the interview or Fuck: The Interview? you think as you see you either losing your job or having the most incredible career of anyone in this industry.

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