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nickssidewitch · 7 months ago

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Chris’s Dilemma

Chris Sturniolo has a little crush on one of his YouTube peers Layla, whom he’d only met once before. But what will happen when they finally meet once again to film an episode of the Cut The Cameras podcast?

Warning: SMUT, Sneaky sex, Dom!Chris x Sub!OC (named Layla), p in v, Oral (Male-Receiving), Dry-Humping/Grinding, Doggystyle, Missionary

(if you read this part already, please read Part 2 here)

***

“Get your hand off the fucking napkin holder, Chris,�� Nick demanded as he grabbed the object out of his brother’s hands. He placed it onto the table next to him, now further from Chris’s reach. “What are we, kindergarteners?”

Chris stretched his body over his other brother Matt in some way to pick up the napkin holder again, but Matt shoved him from his body, causing Chris to sit back into his seat and cross his arms. He pouted comically, but neither Matt nor Nick were amused.

“Stop being annoying,” Nick said as he glared at Chris. They were all at a pizza shop which was pretty packed, and he didn’t want his pizza experience to be ruined by his pestering brother.

“He’s gonna make us get kicked out or something,” Matt added nonchalantly, taking a sip of his own Pepsi afterwards. “I don’t know why you can’t just sit down and relax for two minutes.”

“I can relax for two minutes,” he shifted his body to Matt and fixed his posture, “Three even.”

“Okay, well why don’t you?” Before Chris could protest, Matt continued, “Starting now.”

Nick smirked. “As if Chris could stay still for 30 seconds. Remember how he acted at Larri’s birthday party?”

Matt nodded and said, “Mind you, we were sober, but you acted like you were wasted off of six shots of tequila.”

“Okay, is it ‘Bash Chris Day’ or something? I can’t have a little fun?” Chris responded, rolling his eyes and still feigning a pout onto his lips childishly.

But Matt simply sighed. “Not at our expense, no.”

Nick scrolled through his phone for a bit before he exclaimed, “Ugh, she’s so pretty. I love her fit here,” he said as he pointed at his screen to the picture of one of her outfits.

Chris wiped his mouth and took a glimpse at Nick’s phone, but he was unable to see who Nick was referring to. “Who?”

Nick turned his phone to show his brothers the Instagram picture.

Matt’s eyes focused on the picture for a second before recognizing the familiar face. “Oh, Layla? Yeah. Aw, is that her kitty?”

“Layla?” Chris' eyes widened a bit before he sipped his drink. “We met her at Larri’s party, right?”

Matt nodded. “She’s so cool. And guess what?”

There was a pause that silenced the space before Chris furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t like when you do that shit.”

Matt looked around confused. “What?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Fucking say ‘guess what?’ and pause for an answer like we’re in a fucking episode of Dora The Explorer. Just say what you wanna say.” He took a bite of his pizza as he finished his statement, and Nick could be heard chuckling from across the table.

Matt rolled his own eyes before biting his slice. “Anyways” he moved swiftly on, “Layla DMed me the day after the party and said she plays Pokemon Go!, so she added me as a friend. She sent me a Gift and-”

“I deadass do not give a fuck about your game, bro.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “But it’s cool that you guys hung out a little.”

Nick’s eyes looked over at Chris, and he noticed the hint of scarlet painted on his cheeks. He never said a word though, as not to make Chris feel pressured to say how he felt in front of the two of them. He knew how Chris was when it came to girls that he liked. He didn’t want Chris to run away from someone again. So, he pocketed any questions he had about the way Chris felt about Layla to bring up for another time privately.

Instead, Nick started a new conversation. “Guys, you know how we haven’t had a guest on the podcast in a while?” The other boys nodded. “Well, I have a few options of who we could ask. I mean, I hate asking people, but at least these people are our friends. So, if they say no, we don’t have to feel awkward about it.”

Chris nodded his head. “True.”

Nick looked down at his phone and started to swipe, searching through his Notes app to bring up his list of potential guests. “Okay, so we have Vinnie Hacker first. We met him earlier this year and he seemed pretty cool.”

Matt chuckled under his breath. “The internet would fucking freak if he did a video with us.”

Chris sipped his Pepsi and smirked. “Just imagine the 4 Italian Stallions of the internet collabing. Wild.” His smirk began to shift to a big smile, but he noticed the two pairs of judging eyes coming from his brothers.

“Please don’t call us ‘Italian Stallions’ ever again in your life,” Nick said as he sighed. He began to go through his options again, listing a couple more influencers and a few singers and rappers that they had known until Nick finally landed onto Layla’s name. “Aaand since we brought her up before, maybe Layla. She DMed me saying that if we ever wanted to collaborate, she would be up for it. And she seems like such a sweet girl. Very opinionated, which is a plus.”

“Of course that’s a plus for you,” Matt interrupted Nick.

Nick sucked his teeth. “Okay, whatever that means. Should I text her back and ask if she’s willing to join us for this week’s pod?”

The other brothers gave each other a look before nodding in agreement. She was a Youtuber just like them. Her content was relatively similar in terms of doing random vlogs and videos with her family and friends, with the addition of makeup tutorials, fashion hauls, and other things. She would be a perfect fit.

Nick smiled. “Okay! I’ll text her right now!”, he stated and got straight to texting Layla.

“I hope she says yes,” Matt said. “Who knows? Maybe we can become friends.”

“Yeah,” Chris replied a bit dully. “Maybe.”

He hoped.

***

The boys got home later that evening and went into their respective rooms. Matt played Fortnite, Nick decided to do some editing for their next Youtube video and some computer storage cleaning, and Chris… Well, he was pacing back and forth in his room. Why was he doing this? He was thinking about Layla.

As said before, he and his brothers met Layla at Larri’s party a few weeks ago. Larri was the one who pulled her over to them, giving them her introduction in her place. She looked over at Chris, giving him the prettiest, yet shyest smile. She hugged each of his brothers, and for some reason, the hug between the two of them seemed longer than theirs. He wondered if she had done that on purpose.

Their conversation was a pretty decent one. Very normal. Flowed smoothly. Something that Chris didn’t really expect from influencers in LA. Usually, everyone in LA is trying to outdo everyone else around them, asking them things about their lives that they could probably use as ammunition later on if their “friendships” were in peril. He hated that shit so much.

But with Layla, she just felt genuine. She seemed like she wasn’t the type of person to put herself on a pedestal. She just seemed normal. That night at the party, she talked to them about normal things like what she liked to do in her spare time and that she wasn’t necessarily a party person anyway. Chris learned she was a few years older than him, was from North Carolina (thank God, another East-Coaster, he thought to himself, relieved), had some siblings, and had a black and white cat named Knight. He remembers her pretty-sounding, delicate voice telling her, “I would let you meet him one day,” ending her statement with the cutest, shyest chuckle.

And Layla was fucking gorgeous, too. Her deep brown eyes were warm and inviting. He couldn’t stop looking into them the night they met. She had the cutest little button nose, pretty lips, and a great sense of style that he honestly envied.

She was just so perfect. He didn’t know much about her personally yet, but he was absolutely ready to learn more.

Actually, was he ready? If he was actually ready, he wouldn’t be pacing back and forth in his room the way he was now. His heart wouldn’t be pounding the way it was now. He wouldn’t be trying to script what to say to her in his head right now. Fuck…

***

There was a knock on Nick’s bedroom door.

Nick took his headphones off and rested them around his neck. “Yes?”

“Hey,” Chris said to Nick as he slowly creaked the door open. “I just,” he sighed and shook his head to ease himself a bit, “I can’t sleep.”

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t question Chris any further. “You can come sleep with me,” he suggested, noticing the anxiety in his brother’s face as Chris opened his bedroom door. They had slept in the same room before, so this wasn’t any weird to him. He shuffled to one side of his bed to make room for Chris, clearing off anything on that side and placing it on his nightstand. “What’s wrong?”

Chris sighed. “I don’t know. I know I’m a bit anxious, I just don’t know what’s making me feel that way.” He couldn’t look up at Nick; something made him feel too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

Nick looked over at Chris with a concerned expression. “Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?”

Chris shook his head and sighed.

“Good, because I would’ve kicked their ass.” He thought for a moment before continuing. “Is there something coming up that you’re nervous about?”

His brother seemed to jump at the last question, as if he was caught red-handed. “Well, kinda-sorta.” Chris brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, a sort of self-soothing gesture.

“Kinda-sorta?” Nick chuckled. “What is it? The meeting with Laura tomorrow morning?”

“No…” Chris’s face hid in his knees. “The other thing tomorrow…”

Nick sat for a moment to think before suddenly remembering recording a podcast episode with Layla on that day. “The podcast episode with Layla?”

Chris nodded, still hiding his face. “Mhm.”

“What? Why?” Before Chris even responded, Nick’s memories suddenly flashed back to the time at the pizza shop. Chris seemed so smitten by her being brought up. The way his face reddened, the way he tried to seem not as interested as he actually was- it all made sense. And now was the time he could ask him about it.

“Chris…” He threw one of his arms around Chris’s upper back and placed the hand onto his shoulder, “I feel like I know why you’re so nervous about that.”

Chris’s head jolted from between his knees, and he brought his eyes to look into Nick’s, his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. “Yeah, I like her. A lot. Which is weird because I’ve only met her once. But, I don’t even know how to express that. Do I even like her?”

Nick rubbed Chris’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re good. I understand what you’re saying.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Chris said, sighing as he leaned into Nick’s body.

“No, I’m not.” Nick paused. “Well, kinda? But, that doesn’t mean what you’re feeling is invalid.”

Chris didn’t respond.

Nick continued, “Listen, you liking her after meeting her in-person once isn’t a bad or weird thing. It’s just the way you feel, which is valid and genuine. I personally wouldn’t say you’re ‘in love’ with her yet. It’s a crush. But, you just need to talk to her to get to know her more. Maybe that will help you assess your feelings better.”

“But, how?” Chris silently yelled, throwing his arms down onto the mattress in frustration. “I can’t just walk up to her tomorrow and be like, ‘Hey, I think I like you, but I don’t really know yet. Can I please get to know you so that I can get back to you with updates later?’”

An imaginary lightbulb went off in Nick’s head. “I have an idea.”

Chris sighed. “Like what?”

Nick became giddy over the plan he had and immediately went into details. “Okay, so she’s coming over tomorrow. How about I find some way to make you guys spend time together? Alone. Without me and Matt.”

Chris looked at Nick puzzled. “How would that happen? Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“Not if the excuse is reasonable!” Nick grinned.

Chris chuckled. “And what’s the excuse you have in mind?”

Nick scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously as he processed Chris’s question. “I… uh… haven’t come up with one yet. But, when it does come up, trust me, it will be great!”

“Y’know what, Nick?” Chris smirked. That’s not that dumb of an idea.”

Nick smiled back. “I would prefer a ‘Nick, you’re such a mastermind’, but I guess this suffices.”

“Suffices?”

Nick’s smile immediately dropped and he rolled his eyes. “Ugh, just go to bed.”

“You’re not gonna cuddle with me?” Chris asked, pouting and making grabby-hands like a child that needed physical affection from their parents.

“What is up with you and pouting lately? And no, I’m doing something on my computer. You’ll be okay.”

Chris sighed and turned to face the other side of the room. He curled himself into a comfortable position, and managed to fall asleep soundly. That talk with Nick definitely calmed him down a bit.

Nick looked over to his brother and smiled, rubbing Chris’s back as he felt him sleep soundly. Fuck, I gotta think of the plan…, he thought.

***

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The sound of Layla’s alarm went off, and Layla awakened from her deep sleep, her hand reaching out to turn it off. Today was the day of her collaboration with the triplets, and she was not wasting any time to put herself together.

She quickly did her morning routine, using the best-looking products she had and wore her best makeup. She went to her closet and pulled out her best outfit. Her cat Knight walked over to his bag of food, as he usually did in the morning, which Layla knew was his signal to feed him. As soon as she walked over, he meowed and stared at her as she poured his food into his bowl. She looked down at him and the smile on her face went away as she realized she would have to be away from him for the day.

Layla lived alone after moving from South Carolina to LA, and usually she would have one of her LA friends watch him. Unfortunately, they were all pretty busy, so she didn’t have anyone. So, she thought of an idea. “Hey, Knighty. You wanna come with mommy to work?”

Knight looked up at her and meowed.

Layla pulled out her phone and facetimed Nick. After a few rings, he picked up the phone with a smile on his face. She could hear rustling and the clanging of metal in the background from Nick’s side.

“Oh, sorry about the noise. The washing machine is broken so we’re trying to fix it- Chris, no, don’t hammer the fucking outlet, are you dumb?!”

“It’s coming out of the wall!” Chris could be heard responding in the background.

“No, put the fucking hammer down!!” Nick could be seen leaving the frame of his camera, followed by a small slapping sound, which Layla could assume that he slapped Chris. “We don’t even need a hammer!”

Layla chuckled before Nick came back on frame. “Sorry about that, Layla. Chris was being a complete idiot,” he visibly rolled his eyes, “So what’s up?”

“Okay, so I have a bit of a problem…”

Nick’s eyes widened a bit. “Uh-oh, what’s wrong?”

“So I don’t have anyone to watch my cat, and I don’t wanna leave him alone. So…”

“OH MY GOD!” Matt’s face popped up on screen over Nick’s shoulder. “Please bring him over! I wanna meet him so bad… Please?”

His slightly whiny tone of voice amused Layla. “Only if all of you are fine with it. I don’t just wanna bring some random animal at your ho-”

“Please… I swear Chris is fine with it, right Chris?” He paused to look away from the camera, presumably to look at Chris for a response, then turned back to face the screen, “Yep, he’s okay with it! And I know Nick is, too.” Matt looked down at Nick, rubbing his shoulder slightly forcefully in a way to persuade him.

Nick swatted Matt’s hand from his shoulder. “Yes, you can bring him over. You didn’t have to ask, but thanks for doing it anyway. Some people would have a pet snake and just bring it over without asking like a weirdo.” He smiled at the screen.

Layla smiled back, “Thank you, guys. I'll be seeing you later!”

Then there was a loud thud. “Matt…” Nick’s eyes glared off-camera. “Anyways, see ya later, Layla!” He smiled and waved until the call ended.

Layla went on the rest of the morning thinking about what would happen later. She was so excited to see the boys again and get to know them. Especially Chris.

She first watched the brothers last year when she came across a compilation of their funny moments on Tiktok. They were so funny, and she could relate to them with so many opinions and ideas.

When she met the brothers for the first time at Larri’s party, they were so nice to her and had such a great vibe. But Chris was unique. He immediately stood out to her. His energy, his charisma, his pretty face, his smile, his style- they all made her melt. He even smelled so fucking good, despite the “stinky” jokes that his brothers teased him about all the time. She couldn’t wait to smell him again.

***

Layla finally made it to the boys’ house, and she texted them of her arrival. She stepped out of the Uber with Knight’s crate in her hand, and walked down their yard, where she finally saw Nick standing outside waiting for her. He smiled so brightly and immediately extended his arms for a hug.

“Oh my god, hey!!” He said as he hugged her. “How are you? You look great, by the way!”

Layla smiled. “Thank you so much! You look good too!” She replied. “I’ve been alright, work’s just been taking up some of my free time. But otherwise, things have been fine.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I know you edit all your videos, and I definitely know how exhausting that is. Unfortunately, those two don’t know how to fuckin’ edit”, he rolled his eyes playfully at the mention of his brothers before continuing, “And you’ve been traveling a lot too, so that’s double exhausting.” He chuckled, making her let out a small giggle in tandem. “Well, I won’t keep you standing outside in this heat for any longer.”

Standing like a proud magician introducing his opening act as he opened the house’s door, Nick exclaimed with the widest grin on his face, “And welcome to our humble abode!”

Layla put Knight’s cage down and looked up at the sight. It had a modern look to it, a monochrome color scheme, and little things of the boys’ that scattered in the living room and on the kitchen island. Their home was sweet and simple, but the real charm was the fact that she instantly felt safe there. Something about it, whether it was the smell of clean linen with a hint of cologne, or the little items that you could figure out which belonged to which sibling, or if it was the simple fact that it was owned by these three well-mannered men, Layla just instantly felt safe. And she could tell that her cat felt this same security as well, as he had made a straight B-line to their couch as soon as she opened his cage, laying on one of the throw pillows and getting himself comfortable as if he were at his own home.

It was something about Layla’s presence that made Chris feel safe as well. He didn’t know her for a long time, of course. It was weird, but it just felt normal. She felt normal. She wasn’t some crazy obsessed fan who knew his every move, how many pairs of shoes he owned, or what his favorite Lil Skies song was. She was just a normal girl who happened to do a similar job to him. A normal girl with the most beautiful face that he wished he could stare at for a very long time. Was he the weirdo? Maybe.

“Hey Layla!” Matt said as he walked down the stairs, Chris following right behind him.

Chris smiled slightly, nervousness creeping up his spine as he inched closer to Layla and Nick.

“Hey, guys!” Layla walked up to Matt as he walked into the living room and they shared a quick hug. “How’ve you been, Matt?”

Matt smiled. “Everything’s fine with me…” He started to look around as if he were looking for something.

“Knight’s over there, Matt,” Nick said with a deadpan tone, pointing towards the couch. It was quite comedic for Layla to see Matt be interested in the cat more than anything else in that moment.

Matt’s eyes widened as well as his smile as he walked straight towards the couch and sat down beside the cat. He put his hand in front of Knight’s nose to allow him to get used to his scent. After a couple of sniffs, Knight nuzzled Matt’s hand and climbed onto his lap, getting right back to sleep as Matt stroked his fur.

Layla smiled at the sight. “Aw, that’s too cute! I’ll have to take a photo!”

Nick replied, “I’ll take one and send it to you.”

“Thank you!” Layla responded before turning to face Chris, who stood awkwardly as if he were caught doing something naughty.

And to some extent, he was doing something naughty. He stared at her the entire time through Matt and Knight’s wholesome interaction. He loved seeing how heartfelt she was at the sight. Her eyes smiled alongside her beautiful lips. When she turned back around to face him, he shot his face down towards the ground feeling guilty, hence the awkward pose.

Layla walked up to Chris with extended arms and hugged him tightly, their embrace lasting longer than the ones she shared with Nick and Matt, and quite similar to the hugs they shared at Larri’s party.

Nick watched Chris and Layla’s hug, a smile hidden between his lips. He didn’t want to make it obvious how much he knew of Chris’s feelings for her. It would ruin his whole plan of getting them together in the first place.

“How’ve you been, Layla?” Chris asked, his voice having a bit of a flirty tone that he hoped she didn’t pick up on.

Layla did pick up on it. She thought it was sexy since the first time she watched him in videos, and thought it was even sexier in person. She replied to his question the same way she replied to Nick’s earlier, but reciprocated a tinge of the same flirtatiousness underneath. “I’ve been good. Kinda tired because of work, but overall I’m okay.”

Chris smirked warmly. “That’s good. Glad to see you again.”

Layla nodded and gulped at the sight of his smirk- it was hot. “Y-you, too.”

After this, Nick and Layla walked around the living room and kitchen area, having a mini chat and a tiny tour of the areas, while Matt and Chris walked upstairs to the podcast room. They made sure the room was spick-and-span for their guest beforehand, but they just wanted to do a little check-up of their set-up before the podcast session officially started.

“She seems so sweet. I’m glad she said yes to this.” Matt wiped down the table with a disinfecting towel, smiling to himself as he thought of how well the day would go.

Chris distractedly responded. “Yeah…”

Matt picked up on Chris’s distracted tone and looked over at him. He noticed the concerning nervous look on his face. “You alright, Chris?”

“Yeah,” he answered a bit irritated, “I’m good, Matt.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I was just askin’. Get the stick outta your ass.”

Chris sighed. “Sorry, I’m just focusing right now.”

“Focusing on… dusting?”

Chris looked down at the duster in his hand and rolled his eyes as he put it down. “No,” he paused for a moment to think of a better excuse than admitting his crush on Layla, “I’m focusing on the podcast questions we’re gonna ask Layla.” Perfect.

Matt chuckled, “Well that’s a first. You never think of the questions.”

“Well, maybe I’m growing,” Chris said with a smile at the end. He felt bad to lie to Matt, but with Nick knowing of his secret, telling Matt would feel like too much.

“Ooookay?” Matt reacted confused, but went along with it as they continued to prepare the room.

***

Throughout the filming of the episode, Layla could feel Chris’s gaze on her, like the heat of a fire warming against her skin. Everytime she looked over at him, his blue eyes, piercing yet soft, would be directed towards her. All of her answers to his questions as well as his brothers’ weren’t left unanswered. She could feel that he was actually interested in whatever she had to say.

And he was truly intrigued by the conversations they were having, never missing a beat to interject on a topic that he felt passionate about. That’s what Layla loved about him: his passion. She loved how hype he would get whenever they spoke on things he enjoyed like music, food, and their childhoods. His body would shift and jolt in a way that really portrayed how excited he was about those topics, and Layla was elated to see it.

However, Chris did notice that whenever he was the one to speak to Layla, whether it was asking her questions or interjecting his own opinions that he had hoped she picked up on, Layla would stumble on her words. He didn’t think it was any sort of nervousness, and definitely did not suspect the stuttering to be caused by her being frustrated with some sort of crush on him that he didn’t know about (although that absolutely was the reason why she stuttered). But he thought her stammering, especially in their interactions, was adorable regardless and didn’t mind it.

The four of them went on to discuss their favorite places and pastimes in their hometowns, how it compared to LA life, and interjecting some funny (more so embarrassing) moments from their lives in the conversations. The boys asked questions about Layla’s influencer career and how her life’s journey had been to this point as well as her plans for the future. It wasn’t a bad video at all.

***

The podcast finally ended. Nick rose from his seat, taking a couple of stretches before finally standing to put his sneakers back on. Matt followed in suit, holding his cup in his hand, making sure not to spill the contents of it as he picked up his sweater from beside him. Chris noticed his brothers gathering their contents and his eyebrow rose. “Where are you two going?”

Matt zipped his hoodie up and dug his empty in his pocket searching for his keys. “Nick texted me during the pod and said that he wanted to go to Chick-Fil-A for some food.”

“I got the munchies,” Nick inserted.

Layla stood up from her seat and grabbed her purse. “Oh, okay, I’ll follow you guys, if that’s okay. I’m kind of hungry-”

Nick quickly looked over at Layla and suggested, “No, no, no! You can stay here!” He noticed the anxiousness of his voice and quickly cleared his throat before continuing, “Me and Matt will get the food. You’re our guest, right?”

Layla nodded, albeit a bit confused by the suggestion.

Nick smiled. “Yeah, soooo,” elongating the “so” for emphasis, “you can stay here! Chris will take care of you. Right, Chris?”

Chris’s cheeks became a sharp shade of red after processing what his brother had said. Take care of her? What the fuck was Nick saying? Noticing everyone’s eyes on him as he was stunned by Nick’s words, Chris cleared his throat and replied, “Yeah, Layla. I’ll stay here with you.”

Layla was just as stunned by what was happening- moreso, what was about to happen. She was going to be left alone. With Chris. The guy she’d been thinking about since she first met him. No, she was thinking about him since she first came across his content. And now they’re alone. Together. In his house. And he looks good. And smells good. And-

The sound of the door squeaking open interrupted her thoughts. “‘Kay, guys, see ya later! Don’t freak Layla out too much, Chris,” Nick said.

“Shut up!” Chris snapped back at his brother jokingly, watching him and Matt leave before hearing the door shut.

It was just the two of them now. Chris and Layla.Together. Alone.

And yet, silence.

Until Chris said, “Hey.”

Layla smiled. “Hey.”

They were still sitting across from each other still in the podcast room, so there was no way for them not to notice each other’s presence.

Chris didn’t want to ignore her anyway. It would be rude of him to go on his phone and distract himself. She was a guest- he had to be a good enough host for her. Also, how could he ignore such a beautiful lady in front of him? He had to say something. “So, what do you wanna do?”

Layla shifted in her seat, making herself comfortable- or at least trying to. “I don’t know.” She chuckled to herself. “What do you wanna do?”

Ugh, why would she phrase the question back to me??, He thought. “Um… Well, I don’t know. Maybe we can just talk?”

“About what?” Layla lifted an eyebrow curiously.

Chris’s cheeks started to tint with red. “Maybe…” he raised a finger as he came up with an idea, “20 Questions?”

Layla laughed, and the reaction caused Chris’s cheeks to redden even more with embarrassment. He tried to cover it up with an explanation. “I know, it’s a stupid idea but maybe it can help us get to know each other personally? Unless you don’t want to-”

“Okay, go for it.” Layla smiled as she leaned back in her chair, now sitting as if she was ready for any questions he would hit her with.

Chris was shocked at her readiness. “Oh, wow, okay!” He bit his lip as the gears started to turn in his head, and the screwing of his face made Layla blush. “I gotta think of a question…” He took - couple of seconds and then-

“Alright,” the boy started. “What was your first impression of me?” Chris asked, leaning back into his chair similarly to her, and smirked. A ballsy question, yes, but one he was genuinely curious about.

Layla turned her head away from him slightly to avoid the sight of his smirk. Every fucking face he makes is so sexy, she thought to herself. “First impression? Like in person or in videos?”

Chris tried to keep eye contact with her, tilting his head a bit forward to get back in her field of view. “Either.” He shrugged, not out of disinterest, but rather the opposite, absolutely wanting to hear both perspectives of her thoughts.

She smiled as she thought about him. “I thought you were a good guy. At least when I started watching the videos.”

He raised one of his eyebrows, but the smirk remained as he let out a small scoff. “Just a ‘good guy’?”

Layla shifted her legs in her seat, the scoff and smirk combo making her a bit… aroused. “Okay, a great guy. Is that better?”

Chris laughed. “I’ll take it.” He paused before continuing, “And in person?” Here’s where it gets juicy.

Layla chuckled involuntarily out of nervousness before she answered. “You were bigger than I expected.”

Chris looked at her curiously. “Bigger?” He thought for a moment and then chuckled. He had the urge to make a joke, a rather inappropriate one along the lines of ‘you know what else is big?’, but the urge quickly subsided and led to a teasing question. “What- did you think I was that short?”

Layla immediately defended herself. “No, no! You just seem so… ‘skinny white boy from the Northeast’-esque. If that makes sense. Like Timothee Chalamet, y’know?”

“Hm. Okay,” he replied, but kept up the teasing aura. “ So you mean bigger as in more muscular? Or bigger as in thicker… like I got a fat ass?”

Layla rolled her eyes. “Let’s go with the first one ‘cause that second one is a reach.”

Chris fake-frowned. “You don’t think I got cake?”

Layla scoffed. “Shut up! Just take the compliment!”

Chris laughed as he felt Layla kick him playfully under the table. “I’ll tell you what I first thought about you.”

Layla placed her elbows on the table and put her face in her hands as she looked at Chris intriguingly. “Ooh, I’m excited.”

Chris’s teasing smirk softened into a warm smile as he began to think of the times he first came across her and her content. “Well, I knew of you before Larri’s party through little clips of you on TikTok. You just had this inviting smile and warm energy that automatically drew me in. I would see you in little funny compilations from your vlogs and GRWM videos, and your humor was kinda similar to mine. I was intrigued by you. And that’s when I started watching your videos.”

As he spoke, Layla thought about how she came across him- literally almost the same way. It was interesting. A coincidence? Maybe. A lot of people around their age come across people like that. But it was cute regardless.

Chris went on. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about when I watch your makeup tutorials or fashion try-on hauls or whatever…” he let out a small laugh then continued, “But I don’t mind it. Just your energy, your laughter, your beauty- both inside and out- were enough to get me hooked on you.”

It seemed as if Chris was genuinely pouring his heart out. “And in person, whoaaaa,” he leaned back in his chair in a way that emphasized his whoa, “The first time I met you in person, your beauty was just 10 times more intense. Like, you were pretty on my phone screen, but in person? Right up close? Wow. Amazing.” His cheeks tinted red again. “And you’re a great hugger. Your perfume just stayed in my nose for days after that.”

Chris was so caught up in his proclamation that when he finally noticed the girl’s beautiful cheeks becoming tinted with blush, he stopped himself from getting deeper and called her out jokingly to cut the tension. “You’re blushing!”

Layla lowered her head when she saw his finger point at her. “Blushing? I’m brown-skinned, how could you tell?”

“Your cheeks are a bit of a…” he leaned in closer to her, and she could definitely feel the heat now; it was obvious to the both of them, “They’re a chestnut color. Mahogany, if you will.”

“‘Mahogany if you will’”, Layla couldn’t help but mock the words from his lips. “You’re stupid, you know that?”

“Yeah?” He leaned back against his chair. “Is that another trait about me that you forgot to mention?”

She nodded and a teasing grin popped up on her face. Yes, she was teasing him now, but the grin was a bit more of a facade as to how she truly felt in that moment: aroused.

It was almost as if Chris knew of her growing desire as he continued to press her. “And what else?”

Layla noticed the same stupid, smug smirk on his face as he egged her on. “You’re stupid, and sloppy, and weird.”

“Uh-huh…” His irises seemed to grow darker as the tension between them became more palpable. “What else? Any positives?”

Silence.

“I’m waiting.” He sang in a teasing tone.

“Well, you’re…” One of Chris’s eyebrows rose in intrigue as she continued, “… creative.”

“Thank you! Well, I was waiting for ‘handsome’, but ‘creative’ is good enough.” He suddenly realized his flirtatious nature and questioned himself, What the fuck am I saying?

“‘Good enough?’” Layla scoffed playfully. “Well I’ll give you something even better than handsome then, since you’re so desperate.” She stood up suddenly and walked towards him, bending herself down to face him up close. She leaned into his ear, her breath brushing by the skin of its helix. “You’re sexy.”

What the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- was all that repeated in Chris’s mind. What. The. Fuck. Sexy? Me??

As if reading his mind, Layla added, “Yeah. You’re sexy. Your eyes, your lips- even your nose is sexy,” Layla’s tone sounded like she was admitting this nonchalantly, but as she realized the impact of her statements, her eyes began to widen and her heartbeat gradually sped up.

“Damn.” That’s all Chris could say at that moment. One explicative that was enough to express his shock. Damn. His eyes widened and if he didn’t have some sort of control of his reaction, his jaw would’ve fallen to the floor.

He fully faced her as he turned his body around, his nose now nearly touching hers. Their faces were nearly centimeters apart. If a kiss didn’t happen now, there wouldn’t be another chance.

So Chris kissed her. His lips pressed against her abruptly, yet with a hint of tenderness that allowed Layla to feel comfortable and not pressured to reciprocate it. Layla leaned into the kiss, her eyes closed and lips enveloped into the passion of the moment. Although the kiss lasted at most 10 seconds before Chris pulled away, there was an undeniable spark between them and a force that almost pulled them back into each other again. Almost.

Chris moved his head backward to look at Layla and her reaction to his sudden action. She looked pleased, but he wanted to really make sure. Really, really make sure. His hand caressed her face with a gentle touch, his thumb rubbing her cheek.

“Just fucking kiss me again”, Layla said in response, rolling her eyes at the boy before she could feel his hand grip onto her jaw and pull her into his lips. They were soft and tasted like cherry lip balm, the flavor shocking Layla, but she didn’t mind as she melted into his grasp and allowed him to take a hold of her face and mind. She then climbed on top of him, her legs now wrapped around his waist as she sat on his lap.

Chris’s hands felt an urge to roam her body like they were already on her face, but he controlled himself, not wanting to cross any boundaries without her permission. Feeling heated, he began to remove his sweater and Layla helped him with this as she saw him struggle with his movements as he focused on the passion of the kiss.

Chris sighed as they pulled away from their kiss for a second to process what was happening. “Fuck, I haven’t kissed anyone like that in a while. I feel so…”

“So what?”

“So�� good. Layla, I need you. Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Chris,” Layla placed her hand on his chin, rubbing it in soft movements in a subtle way to soothe him. She could tell he was getting a bit anxious. But she could also feel how much he wanted to move the moment even further. “Chris, you’re okay. You’re with me, alright? Do you need me?”

Chris nodded, not being able to say much other than a “mm-hm”.

“Tell me what exactly you need me to do. I’ll take care of you,” Layla pressed her forehead against his and stared into his eyes, making sure that any changes in his face weren’t due to any discomfort or unease. “I promise, I will take care of you. Just tell me what you need.”

Chris’s breath hitched in his throat. He never thought he would get this nervous about a girl. Like ever. At least not in a long time. But, Layla? Fuck, she was something else. He watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed at a slow pace, which he took as a signal in his own consciousness to control his own breathing and relax. He would need to if he really wanted this moment to progress. “I need you to make me feel good. I need you to feel good, too.”

Layla began to move her hips back and forth against Chris’s lap, small breaths of pleasure escaping her lips as the ache between her legs was now being soothed by his touch. He watched her for a minute, taking the time to really process what was happening. His hands slowly started to grasp her hips, not yet applying pressure, but just holding onto her to get used to the way she felt in his hands. The girl bit her lip and started to whimper as she grinded down with more desperation, which Chris took as a sign to kiss her forehead and her cheek to soothe her a bit. He looked into her eyes and bit his own lip, nodding as he watched her pleasure herself with his body. “There you go… you look so pretty like that.”

Layla moaned in response at his praise, and Chris smiled as he began to help her grind on his lap, his hands gripping onto her hips and moving them back and forth. Their breathing escalated, sending them both in a spiral as they started to both find an orgasm subconsciously.

But Chris stepped out of the moment as soon as he felt himself nearing the precipice. He didn’t want to end this moment prematurely. “Get on your knees,” was all he instructed her as his eyebrows furrowed in sexual frustration. He wanted to make this beautiful girl in front of him unravel herself before he would with the limited amount of time they had alone together.

His sudden request caught Layla off guard, causing her eyes to widen and her actions to freeze. She looked at him in a way that she could recalibrate herself to actually take his commands, and finally did, getting off of him and settling onto her knees. Her widened eyes looked into his again, awaiting for another command. Something about the man in front of her and the situation they were in made her desire to be submissive in this moment.

Layla began to pull his pants down to his ankles but left his boxers by his thighs for precaution if someone happened to walk in. She wouldn’t wanna traumatize his brothers with the sight of her gagging on his dick.

“Yeah, pull my dick out, fuck…” He threw his head back as he felt the air of the room hit his bare cock. “Fuckkk…” He needed to feel her lips around him- or anything for that matter- right now.

Layla immediately started to rub his shaft, both of her hands around it as she began to move them up and down. She gathered some of the precum leaking from his tip to lubricate him somehow, but it wasn’t enough for Chris.

“Spit on my dick, please,” he requested with pouty lips, his head still thrown back, but his fingers found their way in Layla’s hair for some sort of comfort. “Just spit on it-” her saliva landed on his dick and she began to rub it in- “Good girl…” He ran his fingers through her hair in appraisal.

“Look at that pretty fuckin’ face…” Chris purred as he brought the same hand down in her hair down to caress her jaw, his thumb rubbing soothingly against her cheek. He noticed her looking back at the door repeatedly when she first kneeled down, and wanted to reassure her. “I see you wanting to look at the door, but don’t worry about anyone barging in here. We’ll hear the front door from up here when they get back,” he explained to further comfort her before getting her to do anything further.

Layla smiled and nodded at Chris as she continued to massage his shaft, causing him to bring his hand back to her hair and tug on it a bit. “O-okay,” he stammered, “I want you to suck me off, okay? Use those cute fuckin’ lips of yours on my dick.”

He watched as the woman kneeling before him wrapped her plump, glossed lips around the head of his dick, the contact making him unconsciously buck into her mouth a bit deeper than they both expected. He quickly stabilized himself onto the chair and anchored his feet on the ground, hoping to control his body from making that mistake again.

Layla began to bob her head up and down his shaft, each and every repetitive motion causing him to wince and groan in pleasure. It was a pleasure he hadn’t felt from another person in a while; a pleasure he had to mimic with his own right hand, the same right hand he was using to grip onto Layla’s hair. He was in bliss, but he knew he couldn’t be there for a long time.

In realization of their limited time, Chris started to apply force with the hand gripping her hair, helping her to bob on his dick with more vigor. He bit his lip and curled his toes in his shoes as he could feel her tongue dance around the skin of his shaft, exciting every nerve that existed there. When the tip of her tongue would find its way back to the tip of his dick, licking around the hole, now that was heaven. And her lips? Fuck. Plump, cushiony, comfortable, kissable. He didn’t know what she was wearing that made them feel so warm, almost spicy, whenever she kissed his dick. Maybe it was that lip plumper she said she liked to wear in one of those old videos she did? Regardless, it was working its magic.

Layla felt equally as pleased, the feeling of his dick in her mouth making her moan and salivate around him. She knew she couldn’t get too sloppy since at any moment, anyone could walk through the doors and ruin her moment. But the feeling of his warm and slightly salty length and the outline of the veins that adorned it were enough to keep her going.

“Oh, you’re too good at this, baby,” he complimented her with a moan as she continued her movements. “Wish I got to feel you do this sooner. Feels like this is what I’ve been missing out on my whole life- Ah!” He let out a small yelp as Layla took it upon herself to bring his tip to the back of her throat.

Layla held him in the back of her throat, thrusting her head up and down to let him hit the opening of her esophagus. She let out little coughs as she did this, and her legs opened wider underneath her, allowing her to play with herself as she grew more hungry to feel him inside of her pussy.

Chris brought his head up from its laid back position and noticed her hand repeating circular motions between her sprawled out legs. He snickered, clearly entertained by her desperate attempts to please herself. “‘You having fun down there, princess?”

Layla only moaned in response as she continued to deepthroat him and grind against her fingers at once. The sound of her moan was heaven, and he wanted to open the gates in her pussy to hear even more.

“Okay, princess, this feels good and all but,” he used his hand to guide her off of his dick, her lips making a pop as they let him go, “I wanna fuck you so badly. And I know you want me too, right Layla?”

Layla moaned, “Uh-huh, please?” She couldn’t get many words out in her current state, but the blissed-out look on her face and the lust in her eyes spoke for her. She pouted at him as she watched him stand up from his chair, studying his body and face to figure out what they would do next.

Chris grasped both of her hands with his, helping her up from her knees. He quickly grabbed her face and kissed her, his lips missing the feeling of hers on them. Before she could even get comfortable in the kiss, he shifted her body so that she was now bent over the podcast table. Her pretty back and ass were the only thing in his view, and it was delectable.

Chris held onto his cock as he positioned it in front of her pussy’s entrance. He rubbed it between the lips, teasing her hole with his cockhead. Layla backed herself up against him and whined, wanting to feel him inside of her as the ache between her legs couldn’t handle the teasing any longer. But Chris shushed her and slapped his dick against her clit a couple of times, almost in some way to punish her, causing her body to jolt and her mouth to let out a little cry. “Shh, it’s okay. You’ll get it; just relax, mama.”

Layla bit her lip as she felt him tease her a bit more, constantly pushing only the tip in and then pulling it out just before her pussy could even grasp him. She whined and moaned and whimpered some more until finally, he pushed himself inside.

The girl let out a long, drawled moan, probably one of the loudest she’d ever made, and Chris groaned at the sensations happening around him. From the sound of the moan, to the feeling of her pussy wrapping around him and coating his dick, to the sight of this girl’s beautiful body, he didn’t know if he would last long.

Chris began his thrusts in her, staccato with a slightly fast tempo, which filled the room with noises of bodies interlocking with each other in a hungry dance of desire. Her ass made little ripples that made contact with his pelvis, and that was a delicious sight to see. Chris groaned and cursed underneath his breath as he felt her pussy tighten around him more with every second that passed. The feeling of her walls gliding against him caused a friction that heated up his entire body.

Layla was in a trance. She moaned with every thrust and leaned her face and upper body against the table as she felt her body not have control anymore. Chris’s thrusts were what she had hoped from him: exuberant and needy, but with a subtle praising hit against her G-spot that made her feel like the luckiest woman on Earth. In the chase of her nearing orgasm, Layla started to thrust back into him, matching her movements with his own.

The man noticed this and slapped one of her buttocks, making Layla yelp underneath him. He repeated this a couple more times, wanting to hear her beautiful cries like he was hitting the replay button of his favorite song. “Fuck, Layla, throw that fucking ass back on me, yes,” he moaned, bringing another slap to the already sore skin of the right side of her ass. “You’re just too fuckin’ pretty, you know that?” Chris asked rhetorically, and he leaned his body over Layla’s, his chest now to her back. One of his hands gripped her jaw, which was wet with some drool that ran from her o-shaped lips, and the other on her shoulder as he continued to make sharp thrusts against her G-spot. She tightened around him at his praise almost instantly, causing Chris to wince and tighten his clasp against her face. “Prettier when I’m balls deep inside of you, too.”

Layla moaned, doing her ever-best to throw herself back onto him. The contact of their skin became louder as the impact grew harder. She was close to her first orgasm.

And Chris knew this, as he felt her clench around him even tighter and saw her body thrust into him more impatiently. Chris couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her. The way she felt against him, the way she moaned, the way her head would tilt backwards and he could see her eyes roll back in pleasure and a little drool run down from her mouth and onto the hand grasping her jaw- it was all too much. He did his best to hold back his orgasm, though. He wanted to make his pretty girl feel good. She deserved it. He bit his lip and then encouraged her, “Let it out for me, Layla… Let yourself go for me, okay?” He brought his hand, once gripped to her jaw, down underneath her stomach and its fingers found themselves between her legs, rubbing her clit to aid in her search for her orgasm.

Then, finally, she threw her head back and moaned loudly as she came around him. Chris noticed the cream that slid down his shaft as he began to pull out of her slowly, and if didn’t have control of himself, he would have cum from that sight alone.

But, Chris turned Layla’s body around and lifted her on top of the table, making her lay down and spread out for him as he got her ready for their next position. He checked the clock in the corner of the room for a second, seeing the time read 5:36. It’s been 20 minutes, which was longer than his brother’s usually took for a run to Chick-Fil-A, but he couldn’t help but to think that his and Layla’s extended period of alone time was all due to Nick’s impeccable plan. He owed Nick one for real.

Chris’s attention went back onto Layla as he gazed into her lustful eyes. She was still having her orgasm the way she was biting her lip and holding back a moan, and this made him chuckle to himself. He didn’t know he could make a pretty girl cum like that.

He leaned down and kissed Layla again, feigning thrusts between the lips of her pussy with his dick as he sucked her tongue. Layla moaned into the kiss, and Chris almost seemed to inhale her sounds of pleasure as he kissed her.

He removed his lips from her mouth and looked down, puckering them to spit onto her pussy. He tapped his dick against her pussy as he had done minutes before to tease her again, but he didn’t want to take long as it backfired and caused him to tease himself. So, he finally placed himself back inside of her cavern and moaned at the feeling of her wrapping herself around him again.

Layla cried out a moan and threw her head back as he started his thrusts again. She grasped her tits which were still covered by her shirt, and let out a “fuck” as she began to play with then.

Chris noticed her actions and helped her, pulling her shirt down and making her tits pop out from above it, and guided her hand back onto her tits with his own hands grasping onto hers. They both played with breasts in tandem, bringing a new-founded level of intimacy to their heated fuck session.

Suddenly, Layla’s fingers removed themselves from gripping her breasts to fully interlock with Chris’s hands. Chris’s heart jumped as he looked down and saw her do this. He didn’t expect it. He didn’t expect her to be so romantic in the midst of their sex. But, he loved it. Did this mean that she wanted to be romantic with him? Was she hinting at this being more than just about the sex? Or did she do this for her own comfort and self-soothing?

He felt his heart beat even faster from all of this thinking, so he distracted himself by increasing the pace of his thrusts and delving himself deeper in her warmth, feeling her tighten around him again. He then noticed her eyes open and looked into his, almost like she wanted something from him. “What else do you want me to do, mama?” He could hear Layla let out something that could have been words, but unfortunately came out as little sporadic whimpers. He watched as she ran her hand down her body and tenderly grazed against her clit, making a lightbulb go off in his head. “Rub your clit?” She moaned in response and threw her head back as Chris allowed his thumb to apply pressure and rub at her flesh. “It’s okay, I got you, baby,” he cooed.

Chris smirked as he saw her face scrunch up in pleasure as his thumb moved circles on her clit. She looked so adorable and sexy like this. “There you go! Oh, beautiful girl, look at your face! You like feeling me rub your pretty little clitty?” He heard her let out a cute whine in reply. He chuckled. “Good girl…”

Creeeaak! The entrance door of the house creaked open, and the two of them could hear the rustling of Nick and Matt walking into the house.

Chris’s face paled. “We don’t have much time, fuck.” He used the opportunity to increase his thrusts, but angled himself in a way where his skin wouldn’t slap against hers with force that could cause any loud noises.

He began to praise her more, knowing that she was a mess whenever he complimented her, and also knowing that it would make her near her orgasm faster. “You’re a pretty girl?”

Layla nodded and brought her thumb in between her teeth, biting down on it as she felt him go faster against her G-spot. “Mhm.”

Chris leaned down to her face, his nose tip-to-tip with her own, his eyes looking like they were staring directly into her soul, and the timbre of his voice verberating against her eardrums. “No, I wanna hear you fucking say it to me. Tell me you’re a pretty girl.”

“I- I-” Layla moaned quietly before she noticed Chris’s eyes becoming more frustrated as he came close to his own orgasm. She continued, “I’m a pretty girl.”

“Mm-hm, yes, you are..,” Chris agreed with a nod and a kiss, his lips missing hers due to his dazed state of nearing his climax. “Fuck, I gotta hear you cum, baby. You have such pretty moans- c’mon,” he grunted as he slapped her pussy with his fingers and then spread her pussy’s labia with his fingers.

Everything happening caused Layla’s back to arch and body to shake as she orgasmed. Chris felt her clench around him and looked down to watch the cream escape from her hole. “There you go… Good girl. Let it all out for me.”

Layla groaned as she moved her body to ride out her orgasm on Chris’s dick, causing Chris’s own body to shake. His balls clenched as he began to have his orgasm, but he made sure to pull out before making any of his cum slip inside of her. His white liquid shot out onto the outside of her pussy and a bit on her stomach, the feeling of it landing on her causing Layla to look down at the sight. Chris laughed quietly as he watched her. “Yeah, that feels good?” Layla nodded and he smiled proudly.

The two suddenly heard footsteps growing louder as Nick and Matt walked up the stairs. “Shit, shit, shit,” Chris grabbed a baby wipe and began to wipe her up, using a paper towel from the center of the table to dry her off. They helped each other to fix their clothes and look at least somewhat presentable.

“Hey, we’re baaack!” Nick sang as he swung the door open and walked into the room. He and Matt stood by the door, but Nick surveyed the area suspiciously, noticing the disarray of Chris’s hair and the way the table. “What are you two still doing here? Chris, I told you to make her comfortable.” He glared over at Chris, not because of Chris and Layla still in the room, but because of what he suspected happened in that room while he and Matt were away. It could take an idiot to know what happened, and unfortunately, he was Boo-Boo the Fool.

But Chris shrugged and responded to Nick’s question with zero hesitation. “Layla and I just got caught up in conversation.” He stood up and stretched, looking at Nick and Matt with a normal, unfazed face. He made sure he did his best not to look like he just had the best orgasm of his life.

And it worked, moreso when it came to Matthew. He didn’t suspect a thing, not even a hint of a crush between Chris and Layla in the first place. When he looked around the room, he noticed everybody giving each other looks and practically speaking with their eyes, but he didn’t fully understand why. So, he brushed off his confusion and spoke. “Okay, so we bought food for everybody. We can eat downstairs or in here; whatever works for you.*

“We can eat here,” Layla suggested. She looked over at Chris and noticed his entire body stiffen for a couple of seconds before he sat back down in his seat and nodded in agreement.

Nick smiled at Layla before looking at Chris, his eyebrows furrowing only a small bit at him as a hidden signal to his brother that he knew something was up. “Okay, let’s set everything up.”

Chris walked over to Nick and helped him get all of the food and drinks from the bag, before Nick gave him a small pinch on his arm. “We need to talk after this,” he whispered to him at a low pitch, so low to the point Chris could hear him growl. Chris chuckled and winked before walking off to set the table, taunting Nick in a way to tell him that he already knew what Nick wanted to talk to him about later.

All of them began to eat and shared casual conversations amongst each other, the energy of the room being calm and casual; quite the juxtaposition to how heated and desperate it felt a few minutes before Nick and Matt came back.

And Chris and Layla were very aware of this. The two shared a look that only they could understand- a certain smirk with a glint of satisfaction and requited feelings for each other in their eyes- and continued eating their food.

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolos #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #smut #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets fanfic

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throwawayhero · 4 months ago

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hi!! could you do a kirishima bf headcanons? i feel like nobody ever writes for my boy, thank you! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Of course omg??? He doesn’t get the amount of love he deserves ong. One of the best characters imo, kill me if I'm wrong!! He’s been my favourite for YEARSSS and I will never get tired of him. Some of these are a bit random but I hope you enjoy!! ❤️

Eijirou!Kirishima who always walks to school and/or class with you. He’ll wait for as long as you need him to with little to no complaints (most of the time..)! He’ll just hang around in your dorm trying to look unsuspecting as he looks at your stuff while you rush to get ready. He especially loves to snoop through your trinkets.

“.. Hey, I didn’t know you still had this!”

“Neither did I..”

“Oh—“

Eijirou!Kirishima who actually takes care of his physical appearance/personal hygiene. He doesn't have a sociopathic 30 step skin care routine but don't be surprised when his bathroom drawer is full of hit or miss products that he's tried out. Will give tips about finding good products if asked about it. He always smells SO good. He also has hair products he uses to get the red dye to last longer.

"Hey, can I borrow this?"

"That made my skin super irritated, try this one."

Eijirou!Kirishima who always supports you and your hobbies, even if they only last a week. He's always up for being a test subject of sorts. Painting/drawing? He's ordering you top quality paints and pencils. Reading? Tell him about the characters, the drama, the romance, the plot twists, he's invested. Crochet/knitting? He's wearing the sweater you made him, even if it is a little bit itchy. Yoga? He bought matching yoga mats! He's ALWAYS supportive, now matter how extreme.

"Any other hobbies peaked your interest?"

"Rock climbing."

"..Sounds like fun!"

Eijirou!Kirishima who NEVER forgets to text you good morning/night. He forgot once and showed up to your dorm to apologise (You hadn't even woken up yet). Sometimes he sends little GIFs too.

'Good morning beautiful!! 💗💗💗'

Eijirou!Kirishima who has a highlight on instagram dedicated to pictures of you and things that remind him of you. He doesn't really post on social media, but when he does, 80% of the time it's about you. He also sends you a bunch of those lovey-dovey quotes from Facebook. His captions on photos are always so sweet.

'Spent the day Go-Karting with my beautiful girlfriend! Can't believe how lucky I am! #gokart #love #girlfriend'

Eijirou!Kirishima who is the KING of PDA, to an extent of course. He will kiss you anywhere, in front of anyone. Oh my GOD does this man know how to give good hugs. He's always holding your hand/wrist/finger no matter what you're doing. You could be on a walk, in a line, grocery shopping, or just sitting down together. He's always by your side :)

"..Can you let go of my hand so I can scan the groceries?"

"No but I'll help you!"

Eijirou!Kirishima who GUSHES about you to his friends. This man is head over heels and everyone knows it. He doesn't necessarily believe in soulmates but he does believe that you were the one he was meant to find. He gets this horribly happy look on his face when he thinks about a future with you that everyone can't help but laugh at. He talks about said future all the time.

"When do you want to get married?"

"..What?"

"I wanna know when to start editing my vows."

"..Editing??"

Eijirou!Kirishima who is a bit of a restless sleeper. And when I say restless, I truly mean it. This man will roll on top of you and just lay there, sprawling out and snoring happily. You have been and will continue to be kicked. One time you had woken up to him rolling off the bed.

"You slapped me in your sleep last night."

"Oops. You should've slapped me back!"

"I did."

Eijirou!Kirishima who goes all out on dates. He'll take you to a fancy restaurant and wear a suit and tie with his hair done nicely. He'll ask you to wear something pretty beforehand so that you know not to underdress. He arrives at your house/dorm with flowers and the biggest smile you'll ever see (besides your wedding day). He'll treat you like the princess you deserve!

"You're stunning, hun.. where would I be without you?"

#kirishima eijirou #bnha eijirou #mha eijirou #eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima imagine #mha kirishima #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima fluff #hcs #boyfriend #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #kiri #throwawayhero

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unmotivatedwrit3r · 1 year ago

Text

why do we go back?

damian wayne x reader

warnings: anxiety, kind of a panic attack?, implied past trauma/abuse

wc: 800

“I went back.”

“Why? They—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why. I—”

“Damian, honey, breathe.”

Damian’s brothers don’t text you that often. You don’t have their numbers saved in your phone. Or you didn’t. You have Tim’s now.

come to the manor now. non-medical emergency

oh and this is tim by the way

You don’t even see the text until you’re done with your meeting, phone on do not disturb and notes document in fullscreen mode. It was sent at 1:30 in the afternoon. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen at 1:30 in the afternoon.

I’m on my way, you text back at 3:00. Is he okay? The response comes as you’re setting up your gps. no. then, i mean he’s fine but no. You pull out of your parking spot a little faster than you should have.

Once you get on the highway, you turn off the GPS. The number 21 exit towards Bristol and Wayne manor is nearly as familiar as your own. You’re thankful for the dozens of trips you’ve made because Tim calls you five minutes in.

“What happened?” You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. The anxiety that had taken root when you saw the first text is morphing quickly into fear.

“He disappeared.”

“What?”

“He’s not on manor grounds anymore. But he’s not in his suit.”

On top of the phone call screen, a push notification lets you know that Damian's code was used to disarm your alarm system. You let out a short breath and switch lanes. Your exit is the next one.

“I know where he is,” you tell Tim as you shift over into the right lane. It’s a little backed up, the way it always is this time of day, “I got him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

You take exit 24 towards the lower east side, then switch to an even more local highway and take exit 8 towards the residential district. When you pull into your parking spot in the cul-de-sac, your house looks empty. When you walk inside, Damian’s combat boots are sitting by the door, not unlaced all the way. One of them is sitting on its side. The other is askew. You let your bag slide off your shoulder to hit the ground next to your own shoes and venture further in.

Damian’s sitting on the steps in dark casual clothes and white socks with a paint blob pattern. His knees are bent, legs pressed against his chest. Your steps aren’t steep and Damian is very tall. Hands clenched into fists rest on top of his knees. His neck is bent too, forehead pressed against his fists.

You slide back on the wooden steps when you sit down. Damian doesn’t so much as twitch. You wait for him to come to you. He does.

“I went back.” His voice is rough but not thick with tears.

“Why?” You ask. The League leaves him with deep hurts every time he goes back to Nanda Parbat. And not the physical kind. “They—”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims like the words burst out of his chest. The energy propels him up, fingers digging into the arms of his sweatshirt as he rocks on his heels. “I don’t know why. I—”

“Damian, honey,” You stand to meet him. The emotions in his green eyes are wild, untethered. “Breathe.” He shakes his head at you, fingers curling harder into his sleeves. “You can.” Damian scans your body language and you let him, relaxing the tension in your shoulders and leaving your hands open, arms angled to hold him if he wants it.

“I’m here,” you say to the hesitation in his eyes. “You’re safe.”

You let out a grunt of air as Damian slams into you. His arms wrap around you tight enough that you think he’s afraid you’ll turn into smoke if he lets go. You raise your arms more slowly, one coming up to rub at his back and the other to cup the back of his neck.His knees buckle. You slow your descent to the ground only barely, saving your knees from catching the brunt of your weight. Your butt stings instead from how hard it hit the floor but it’s worth it when Damian buries his face into the junction between your neck and your collarbone and breathes. They’re choppy loud breaths that come with shoulders shuddering under the hand you have rubbing up and down his back, but no tears hit your neck.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, cheek pressed against the top of his head. “You’re safe here.” Damian’s arms only tighten further. In response, you hold him tighter too.

Why do we go back, you wonder, when we know the only thing to come of it is more pain?

#red writes 5k real story fics about things that happen; i write 800 words of a not real aftermath #i'm not usually MC material but then I have days like yesterday #was it really yesterday? it feels like just now and weeks ago at the same time #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

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356migoro · 2 months ago

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I want to know how you render.

A lot of people seemed to be oddly interested in how I render so...

Shape first

I use solid brush or lasso to block in the light and shadow first.

You can see this in the Till drawing because it's all hard edges

2. Add high saturation colour in the area where the light turns into shadow.

I like to do this cause it gives a glassy transparent feeling to my drawing.

like these:

3. Cause most of my drawings are 70% in shadow + 30% in light, i will render the shadow

that means, adding another "light" to the shadow, like reflective light or so. For the till drawing, its a blue light from the left

However, we need to make sure the secondary light doesn't destroy the main light source, so this secondary light will only cause hue and or saturation changes instead of value changes

...

Above are the logic for my doodle drawings, but if i want to continue, i will do the following:

4. Separating more forms

ie, for the till drawing

if the form faces left, it will be affected by the blue light.

if the form turns away from camera and not affected by the blue light, it will be redish

if the form is hard, shape will have hard edges

if the form turns, shape will have soft edges

5. Separate space

Things in front are solid and things in the back are blurry

---

Well, in my art logic, i think "rendering" is separating more layers of information, ie

separating form's plane (via lighting, edges etc)

separating space (via blurriness and light decay)

separating material (e.g. if hair strip is thin, it will be more transparent etc)

oh and i usually add gradients, so it contrasts with the hard blocks i make ✌

---

hope this helps

I posted some of my drawing process on Bilibili @356Migoro, if anyone is interested.

---

🤔Actually, I intended to make a YouTube channel to share my art shenanigans, but I'm just a bit too busy lately, let me know if there's anything else you are interested✌

---

also, normally I don't paint in a solid step-to-step process, its usually i realise that after i have done something, there's still not enough information, so that i "add logic" to my drawing. (e.g. adding the blue light for the till drawing)

---

and since people asked before:

i use CSP to paint everything

I only use 5 type of pens, they are my main partners in crime✌✌✌ (1) lasso and Default G-pen to line and block in hard edges, (2) Transparent pens for mixing colour (3) Blur tool, (4) Gradient (5) texture pen

glhf

#art tutorial #digital art #art process #thanks for having me lols... have a good day #and the reason why my art style changed a lot after my Slow Damage period #is that i traveled to a mountain in China to seek art knowledge from Ale-sensei #(its actually a proper art training institution in China called Magic Leaders but I'm just trying to be funny here)#so yea I am still trying to find my balance between what i already knew and what i learnt there...#and there's a period where i learnt too much and i became really confused so my art style is not very consistant

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 10 months ago

Text

Would they peel an orange for you?

Yes, I saw the TikToks and thought about doing it before I remember I don't have boyfriend

Yes, unprompted

Thoma

There is approximately 30-40 minutes between the time Thoma gives ayato his evening tea and when ayaka needed to be escorted to town.

And like clockwork Thoma would be waiting for you under a tree in the residence, on a somewhat secluded corner with a tray with two tea cups and a little platter with cut up solsettias and oranges.

Even if one day you arrive early where he is still getting settled and just about to start peeling and ask to do it for him he just smiles but refuses with his head.

“ Don't worry about it! Why don't you drink the tea? It's a new blend that arrived today, though you would like it”

Childe ( he is used to peeling fruit for his sibling)

Itto ( hear me out, he hears a girl mention a novel where the main character gets fed apple slices while sick and how attentive that was and immediately starts a competition with nobody to prove himself the 'bestest' boyfriend ever"

Yes, if asked

Zhongli

He doesn't have the same nutritional needs as humans, where we would need variety of vegetables and fruits, grains and meat in his dragon form he only needs three cows every month, now as a human his metabolism had slowed significantly, even then it would be strange to only buy kilos of meat once a month and nothing else.

That is where you help him out, going to his house for diner and lunch to not let the good rot.

“ I saw green tangerine at the stall and decided to buy them” zhongli settles the fabric bag on the table “It reminded me of such a delectable tea I had a while ago, I guessed I would have my hand at it, it will take at most 10 years only”

“ Tea inside tangerines? It sounds nice. Do you think I can eat one, I never had one” he nods from the kitchen putting away a bag of rice and other things while he mumbles about only needing the skin “I don't really want to peel it though… Can you peel it for me?”

Zhongli looks at you, head slightly turned but he smiles as he answers “ as you wish” he walks to the table and grabs a knife, before skillfully cutting the skin and stabbing a wedge “open wide”

Kaveh

Kaveh might work as an architect, loving the flow and composition of his buildings, but that love extends further away to other areas of art, from painting to rug making to clothes, so when you ask him for help when remodeling your home ( you paying) he was on cloud nine.

Walking and haggling the price all around the grand bazaar from 7 am (he insisted all the good things arrived early) to 3 pm was expectedly tiring to your legs and to your head, seeing how happy kaveh was with a 20 mora discount. So when you two stopped at alhaitham’s house to leave some bags you threw yourself on the ergonomic couch that was on the living room.

“Oh, we didn't stop to drink anything all morning, do you want some water and…” you could hear him rummaging around the shared kitchen for something to offer “ … some oranges?”

You only sigh but nod, even if you knew he wouldn't see “ water is fine. I don't want to peel anything, I hate how the smell lingers on my fingers”

Kaveh brings a jug with cool water “ I can peel it for you if you want, I don't really mind”

“... Yes, please “

Diluc ( would ask a maid the first time but when they tell him what it means he starts peeling it himself)

Neuvillete (furina said it was something sweet between lovers and it stuck with him)

Wriothesley

Not really/ doesn't find the point:

Alhaitham

At breakfast he doesn't like to eat heavy, not wanting to dirty his kitchen before going to work and not having much appetite so early. Usually a warm cup of tea or coffee and a bit of fruit or bread.

Seeing as he was picking an apple from the bowl on the kitchen you ask him to pick you an orange to which he only nods and grabs you a knife.

Leaving it in front of you he sits on the contrary chair and bites through the apple and sips his tea.

“ I don't really want to peel it, though… maybe someone could do it for me” you look at him, hinting at him

“ Do you want an apple then? You don't have to peel it” he doesn't look up from the book on the table even as you sighs

Wanderer (rat man)

Kaeya ( does it because you asked him but doesn't find the point in asking him for such a small favor. Prefers showing love/care in other ways)

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 8 months ago

Note

Do you think the Statue of Secrecy in the Harry Potter books should be broken?

I mean, that's an interesting question, and not one I'm sure I (or anyone else for that matter) is qualified to answer. It's sort of like asking "should a large and fundamental part of a culture change". It can change, and there'd be fallout from that, and the result would be something entirely different.

What I will say is the statute of secrecy, at least as we see it in Britain, sets up a potentially dangerous state of affairs for a civilization and especially one that is insistent on remaining ignorant of its neighbors.

There's a technical term for this that I'm completely forgetting at the moment but the idea is that if you have an extremely small civilization, in which there is also extreme isolation, then that civilization's technology not only tends not to progress but also regresses. This is a matter of population and knowledge being lost (you don't necessarily have 1-1 replacement for skills and techniques to retain what the civilization knows) and difficulty in innovating for similar reasons.

Now, wizarding Britain isn't quite this, and that's because we have Half-bloods and Muggle-borns. The population is ridiculously small, with Harry's class in Hogwarts being around ~30 total and no matter how JKR tries to convince me there's thousands at Hogwarts we only seem to see 100s if we're being generous, and the "pure" wizarding families being even smaller (~30 families many of which have died out). But we also get a few Muggle-borns every year and we get Half-bloods from magical people marrying Muggles either directly or those who came from Muggles two generations or less ago. We see technology transferred in from the Muggle world and accepted at large in the train for the Hogwarts Express, the Knight Bus, cameras, and radios.

There is technological transfer as well as some diversity in genetics.

The problem comes in that the wizarding world by isolating itself is incredibly vulnerable to diseases (dragon pox is noted as basically having wiped out Harry's grandparent's generation) and conflict (Voldemort's responsible for the ending of several cornerstone family lines). One bad famine, war, and epidemic could end the wizarding world the way it is now.

As it is, they may already be at a breaking point and not realize it, if enough of the families died out. (The Weasleys can't supply 3/4 of the population and you have to have someone there already to teach Muggle-borns magic in the first place).

There's also the issue that by isolating themselves so strictly the wizards have no idea how Muggles work or the state of the Muggle world. Arthur is painted as the best we see and he's offensively bad, it's a common gag how little he understands about the Muggle world as a Pureblood wizard. While people like Hermione and Harry are better, they also stopped their Muggle schooling at 11 and both spend as much time in the wizarding world as they can even during the few times they're sent back to the Muggle world. This is especially dangerous as Harry and Hermione think they understand the Muggle world extremely well, and while they're better than Ron, they're not the same as someone who is a Muggle, especially after they become adult wizards and have no reason to interact with the Muggle world anymore.

So we get a superficial understanding of Muggle technology (they know certain things exist, especially obvious physical devices, but their solution to making them work is to enchant them to float and they think they've got it) and basically 0 understanding of anything else.

We do see some crossover in that the Prime Minister has a direct line to the Minister of Magic, but we also see that it's a "you don't call us, we'll call you" type relationship in that the Prime Minister has been trying for ages to figure out what the fuck is going on when Fudge and Scrigemore finally show up and go "Oh, yeah, there's a changeover and we have a terrorist back who's going to fuck your shit up. Sorry". It's very clearly a position meant to shut the Muggles up and have their aid when the wizarding world needs something from them, not the other way around, which is bad relations (seen in canon, the PM was not a fan) and also makes it clear that the wizards don't care what the Muggles do or what they're up to so long as they do it off their lawn.

And that means... well, things could get spicy without the wizarding world having any means of warning.

Not to mention, of course, that it's barely being kept in place. We have canonical villages of obliviated people who act a little funny in the head because the wizards didn't want to move/wanted to feel progressive by living with Muggles. We have Harry alone causing a number of incidents such as flying a car over half the country with the obliviators then having to obliviate said half of the country. We have Muggle-borns popping up with the Ministry seeming to have no means of keeping track of them without the Hogwarts letter. We have a complete lack of understanding of recent Muggle technology (guys, a very small percentage of people actually understand how computers work, how information is stored, how it's replicated across the web, don't tell me that someone with a primary education up to age 11 understands all the nuance of computers. You may get one or two, but it's not going to be many and they're probably not going to have Ministry jobs because they're going to probably be Muggle-born and maybe, maybe, Half-blood).

So, basically, I think the statute of secrecy is unsustainable. They're rolling dice keeping it in place and one of those days they're going to roll for something that will not allow it to hold.

Does that mean it should be torn down?

Again, that's that "should" thing we got into at first, things would change, it'd get very messy and very ugly, but it's a change and not something I can really ascribe morality to one way or another. It just is.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the wizarding world #the statute of secrecy #meta #headcanon #opinion

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st4rgzer · 6 months ago

Note

Heyyy hope your doing well with the Taylor Swift and Spenser Reid thing!!!!

I was thinking about how the trend on tiktok with how the girlfriend and boyfriend swap back and forth a painting and paint them. And thought how cute that would be with Benoftheweek!

Maybe some kisses and lots of playful banter??? A gender neutral reader or a female reader would be great! Thanks so much!! Keep up the great work!

art piece (benoftheweek)

summary: you try the painting each other trend with your bf!

genre: fluff fluff fluff

cw!: -

a/n: okay i am SO sorry, i had only realized you were talking about another painting trend when i finished writing this😭 dont worry, i’ll write the right request later, sorry!

you giggled as you watched ben’s face scrunched with a confused expression as he mixed colors on the canvas. you had proposed the idea when the video came on your feed, immediately sending it to him and pleading for you two to do the silly trend circulating tiktok. he obliged without hesitation.

“this isn’t fair, you have such an advantage!” he groaned, looking skeptically at his painting, trying to find an angle that made just a bit of sense.

you laughed mischievously, knowing that you chose this activity solely because you had the upper hand. “not my fault! sorry you have poor eye to hand coordination” you mumbled with a grin. he gasped and clutched his chest in an offended manner.

“that is!- fine. i’ll show you how much of an artist i can be.” he declared. turning his attention back to his painting, concentrated entirely on making sure he wins.

a few minutes later, you announced that you had finished with your painting.

“i’m done!” you held your painting up next to ben and smiled, knowing victory was soon to be declared.

ben didn’t respond, instead, he continued meticulously picking paint and holding it up next to your features, putting his thumb up to measure your proportions…

“aaand…done!” he dragged on, reviewing his painting with a grin.

“mhm, should we reveal them now?” you asked, he nodded.

“i’ll go first” you stated, he rolled his eyes playfully in response. he muttered an “of course” under his breath, teasingly.

he flipped your painting and revealed a spot on recreation of his face, done in under 30 minutes. his mouth was left agape, stunned at the art piece before him. i mean, he knew you were good but this had only further proved it to him.

“it’s decent.” he said, neglecting to look at you in the face, trying to disguise the fact that he had been left with his mouth opened for a good 15 seconds at the utter shock of your skills.

you snorted, “decent, sure” you rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms. you obviously knew that he knew that you were a very talented artist, and he was lucky to have such a creative partner, but it was fun to watch him pretend.

“okay okay now mine” he said excitedly. you turned the painting towards you, covering your mouth with your hand upon contemplation.

“oh my god.” everything was all over the place, you hair was spikes, your eyes were giant in comparison to your little face, the neck was way too long, and the colors formed a muddy mix almost everywhere.

“this is amazing ben! i think you’ve won!” you say smiling, holding in the laughter.

“duh, i told you” he acted like a little kid showing his babysitter his drawing. but soon enough the both of you burst with laughter, giggling about the painting for at least 15 minutes.

“okay you win, can we just go lay down now? painting is really draining” he said exaggeratedly. you nodded and looked back at the mess of brushes, pallets, and splotches of colors on the table. then you looked back at him.

“tomorrow.” you both said in unison, breaking out in laughter once again before heading to his room, laying in bed and making fun of his painting again. this went on for a few minutes before peppering him with kisses, apologizing for bullying his “awesome” art piece. you both fell asleep shortly after, resting your head on his chest, intertwined together.

taglist: @iha8you @1horrormoviewhore1

#benoftheweek fluff #benoftheweek x reader #benoftheweek #benjamin de almeida

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visceral-stories · 1 year ago

Text

Inheritance

I’m back! Thank you all for staying with me during my long hiatus! I truly appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the story!

Ko-fi |Twitter

6:30 PM seemed like a rather late time for a job interview, but it had been the only option to work with Garrett Carmichael’s hectic schedule. An ambitious high school senior, his weekday afternoons were usually fully booked. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he participated on his high school’s Quiz Bowl team and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he attended meetings with his math league. Unfortunately, being a productive, ambitious scholar was not a lucrative venture, save for the college scholarships he was already applying for. Garrett’s nonexistent financials were what brought him to apply for the position of a waiter at his town’s local banquet hall.

He also needed something to balance out the drag that high school had become. He didn’t mind the schoolwork or classes as much, but none of his few close friends - or acquaintances even - shared his same classes. It felt like he was just going through the motions, forced to interact with people who he didn’t care for. The absolute worst was his fourth hour in World History where a gaggle of dim-witted football jocks made the class a living hell. They weren’t physical with him by any means, but they were the type to whisper under their breaths and mock the way he talked or his answers to questions. As a result, it made him far more apprehensive to raise his hand whenever he knew the answer in class. School sucked and on the weekends, he was free. Too free. Having abundant free time was nice, but it wasn’t like he had many hobbies outside of playing videogames with his fellow math league teammates or doing deep-dives on the internet about the multitude of scientific topics that interested him. Not only did he need money, but he just wanted to get out of the house for a few hours and not watch the Saturdays and Sundays glide past him every week.

The application process had been momentarily bewildering for Garrett who had no clue how the website worked and he had to ask his mom what the digits to his social security number were. Every other high schooler his age had gotten a job already and he felt dumb for getting daunted by the simple process, but ultimately he persevered. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he stepped out of his car and walked to the front door.

“Wow,” Garrett said with awe as he stepped into the nicest waiting room he’d ever seen. An immaculate tessellation of white and yellow rectangles adorned the ceilings accented by bold, curving polygons painted emerald green to resemble vines. The design appeared to extend far beyond the puny waiting room he was in and across the ceilings and walls of the main banquet hall, which he could see for a long distance.

“Can I help you, sir?” croaked a male voice.

Garrett looked back in front of him to see a man sitting inside a booth in the corner labeled “COAT CHECK” - the only other fixture in this small, open space. He had broad shoulders and was wearing a fancy tuxedo, nearly filling up the whole window with his width. “I-ummm,” Garrett coughed and cleared his throat, peeved at the inopportune phlegm that had formed. “I’m here for a job interview to be a waiter here.”

A warm feeling of dread filled Garrett’s body when the coat check guy just looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. Garrett remembered the man he’d been messaging in his emails. “I’m supposed to talk to a uhh…Mr. Clifford Atkinson.”

Thankfully, the man’s stoic face lit up with recognition. “Oh yes, he should be here within the next 15 minutes. His reservation starts at 6:45.”

“Oh, okay,” Garrett replied. He adjusted his glasses and wondered why the Clifford guy needed a reservation. Didn’t he work here?

“You can take a seat over there and wait for him if you’d like,” the man offered with a faint smile.

Garrett curtly nodded and quickly sat down in one of the few dark red office chairs outside the front door. He pulled out his phone and searched for that email he’d received from Mr. Atkinson. He could’ve sworn the email he’d received yesterday had told him to arrive at 6:30, but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found no matter how hard he searched for it. Crud. He must’ve deleted it or something. Emails were weird.

The next ten minutes ticked slowly by, leaving Garrett with minimal entertainment besides a few men and women who intermittently came and went through the front door. They were dressed up in tuxedos just like the coat check guy. It was intimidating the way they moved to and fro. Their solid black jackets with stark white shirts bounced up and down with their movements, taunting Garrett with their sophistication. A layer of sweat formed around him as he realized he might’ve come to this thing underdressed. His casual attire of a light blue short-sleeved shirt, a Mandalorian Star Wars tie, and brown cargo shorts clashed heavily with the fashion here. He’d just gotten here and he’d already made a mistake. It was too late to go back home and change clothes so he decided to drown his fears by scrolling through social media. As he was catching up on IGN’s most recent game review, the door flung open. Garrett glanced up, expecting to see Mr. Atkinson, but instead, the last person he wanted to see stumbled inside.

A tall, muscular jock stepped inside, dressed in a light gray short-sleeve t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and of course - a signature backward cap. “Hey, what’s up man?” he announced as he swaggered up to the man in the coat check booth. “I’m here for the uh…waiter position.”

Garrett’s blood ran cold. It was Devon Kearney - one of the dumbest guys alive and unfortunately, the most prolific nuisance in his fourth-hour World History class. Every day, his deep, stupid voice filled the room as he tended to share every impulsive thought he had with the other football jocks in the class. He was a real menace, rude to everyone besides his little clique or, of course, girls in the class he found attractive.

Garrett watched the employee gesture for Devon to sit in the chair next to him and a wave of fear filled his body as the jock’s face lit up.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he boomed as he sidled over to Garrett, causing heads to turn. “You’re that kid from history class!” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Carmichael, Carmichael, Carmichael. Shit, what’s the first name?” he asked aloud as if Garrett wasn’t even there.

Garrett clenched his fists. “My name is Garrett, you big-”

“Ah! That’s right, that’s right! I knew that!” Devon roared as he sat down two chairs away from his far skinnier comrade. “You look like a Garrett too,” he snickered with a cocky sneer that made Garrett want to strangle him. Devon was so fake, trying to act all cool and friendly with him as if he hadn’t spent the last three months mocking Garrett in class. Most of the time when Garrett raised his hand to answer a question, he could hear Devon or one of his stupid friends whisper to each other and giggle. Those jerks. Garrett couldn’t wait till he graduated in May and never had to interact with those bozos ever again.

“So what the hell are you doing here, man? Are you applying for a job too?” Devon asked.

Garrett sighed. He wanted to tell Devon to screw off, but that sure as hell wouldn’t go over well at school tomorrow. It wasn’t like the jocks had ever been physical, but he didn’t want to find out. “I’m applying for a job,” he said, not even bothering to continue eye contact.

“No way! What position? Dishwasher?”

Garrett held his ground as he felt the spit in the back of his throat dry up. “Waiter.”

“You? A waiter? No way, that’s the role I’m training for too!” Devon let out a boisterous laugh that made Garrett’s skin crawl. “Hey, I support it man, but no offense, I…uh….I don’t see you being super social. Being a waiter means like…talking to people a bunch and making ‘em your friends to get stacks of tip money! And at a real fancy place like this, they’re gonna have fat bank accounts! No cap!”

“Whatever,” Garrett huffed quietly, cringing at the “no cap” comment the most. He turned his phone back on and released an embittered breath.

“It is what it is, man,” Devon snarkily added. He began talking, mostly to himself, again as he pulled out his phone. “Oh man, wait till I tell the boys about who I found at the banquet hall!”

An awkward silence filled the hall once more, save for Devon’s subtly obnoxious open-mouthed breathing, but moments later, the door swung open and a middle-aged man waddled inside. Garrett caught a faint glimpse of his massive torso out of the corner of his eye. His silver-haired head looked like a snow-covered peak nestled in between the two mountains that were his massive shoulders. Even more shocking was the fact that his pecs were even larger than his bodybuilder-level deltoids. They had entered the room before he did and only drew more attention as they were thinly veiled beneath the strained white dress shirt he was wearing. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a scandalous amount of male cleavage complemented by a light dusting of silver chest hair.

Garrett noticed that even Devon was also gawking at this colossal guy as he trudged over to the coat check. He leaned over on the desk as he talked with the attendant and Garrett’s cheeks turned pink as he gazed at the man’s massive, imperious figure. Especially his round butt. The dude was absolutely caked up! The buttons of the back pockets of his blue dress pants looked ready to snap. He’d never even considered the idea that men could have butts that big.

All of a sudden, the hefty stranger spun around on his heels and made direct eye contact with the two teenagers who were obviously gawking at his size. His jaw was the size of a lantern and his eyes had a piercing sapphire coloration to them. He looked like he was plucked straight from Hollywood or something. “Ah, Gentlemen, welcome! It’s nice to see you!” he boomed, the volume of his bassy voice sending a shockwave through Garrett and Devon.

“Nice to see you too, man!” Devon replied, clearly in awe of the massive male specimen in front of him

“Sorry about the outfit, boys. These tits of mine have been fighting me to get dressed today,” Cliff said with a playful jiggle of his partially-exposed pecs. “Getting dressed up is quite the hassle isn’t it?”

“Yeah for sure!” Devon said, intentionally lowering his voice to match the other man’s volume. What a kiss-ass. Garrett didn’t even know how to react. He just watched as the other young man hopped to his feet and extended his arm out for a handshake to which the man obliged. “I’m Devon.”

“Cliff Atkinson,” the man boomed as he shook Devon’s hand. Garrett promptly hopped to his feet as the man turned to him. “And who might you be?” he asked. “Just kidding, Garrett. I know who you are. Bring it in. I’m so proud of you.”

Before Garrett could even process what was happening, the man had pulled him in for a bear hug. It was unbelievably awkward, considering he had to hunch over to get down to Garrett’s 5’6” height. As Cliff gave him a firm, tender beat hug as tight as a vice, Garrett swore he could feel his lungs compressing from the immense pressure. It wasn’t like he knew what to say anyway. He had never seen this man before and now he was talking to him so intimately. It was so weird. When Cliff released him and gave him a tender pat on the back, he was nothing short of disoriented.

Garrett was gasping for breath. Before he could voice his confusion, the mountainous man stood straight up again and clapped his dumbbell-sized hands together with a smile. “I am quite glad to see you both, but I must say both of your outfits are quite unbecoming. The guests should be showing within a half hour. Maybe even earlier.” He turned to Devon. “I’m sure you are new here so all is forgiven, but this is a high-class banquet hall and we take attire very seriously here. Not to worry though, we have some proper clothes for you! Do you know where the dressing rooms are?”

“No sir,” Devon replied. Garrett peered over and locked eyes with a very sour-faced Devon, whose eyes were still boggling wide with disbelief.

Cliff smiled. “Not a problem, I’m happy to show you.” He turned to Garrett. “Garrett can go with you too. We must get you out of those dreadful street clothes. It’s your very special day after all.”

Garrett’s throat was dry from how shocked he was, but Cliff had already started leading the way before he could ask him a question - and he certainly had many options! Like “why the hell did you say you’re proud of me?” Or “what do you mean by special day?” But just the thought of questioning this hulking beast of man seemed way too daunting, no matter how tame he seemed.

Cliff turned and led the two boys into the banquet hall, which was far more capacious than Garrett had expected. The place must’ve been at least three-thousand square feet, with every inch of it decorated with Italian Renaissance artwork similar to what was in the lobby. Intricate geometric patterns lined the walls and surrounded the various paintings around the hall, which were also complemented by beige accents around the perimeters. There also had to be around fifty or so round tables all spread out in the open area. Some of the chairs were so close together that Cliff had to walk sideways just to get his broad figure past.

“So how the hell does a guy like you know a guy like that?” Devon whispered as the two traveled through the array of round tables, his voice rife with envy.

“I have no clue,” Garrett replied - the exact same question was on his mind.

“Whatever,” Devon snarled, his tone rich with vicious envy. “I’m a better fit for the job than you anyway. You don’t even know how to talk to girls.”

Garrett coiled his fists. He wanted to retaliate, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. Imagining the five other football players targeting him would be a living hell. He decided to voice a general comment anyway. “Well Devon, it appears that we may have both gotten the job. I mean he never said otherwise.”

“Bullshit, sir,” Devon hissed before his eyes widened with confusion after a few moments. “Wait, why did I just call you, sir? I-”

Before Garrett could respond, Cliff’s roaring bass silenced the boys’ tiff. “Downstairs is the staff apparel room,” he boomed as they reached a locked door on the opposite end of the hall and twisted a key in the lock. “Devon, was it? We have freshly laundered uniforms listed by size and you can find what best correlates with your size. We will meet you back here when you are dressed.”

“Okay. Yes sir! Sounds good, sir!” Devon replied, raising his voice to feign confidence. Garrett grunted in frustration. He wanted to wipe that stupid smug grin off that suck-up’s face.

Garrett winced as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’d best follow him too,” Cliff added. “You know better than to dress like that. I’d expect that out of Devon because he’s just showing up to work, but your apparel is usually not this…pedestrian.”

Garrett’s heart leapt into his throat. Why on earth was this man commenting on his apparel of all things? He just got here! And why was he talking to him like he’d already gotten the job? Yet at the same time, Cliff was talking to him like he’d known him for years. “Oh, I uh…okay,” Garrett meekly apologized, acquiescing to the man’s strange claims. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ask the man about his inappropriate hug earlier. “Say, when you said you were proud of me earlier, what did you-”

A marimba ringtone suddenly blared from Cliff’s pocket. He held up his index finger and produced an iPhone from his pocket although his meaty hands made it look like a toy.

“Sorry Garrett, it’s the caterers,” Cliff barked. “I’ll meetcha back here in 15, alright?”

“Oh um..I just-”

Cliff had already answered the phone and started walking away, revealing another glimpse at his broad backside. Garrett readjusted his big glasses and sulked. As he watched the burly stranger depart, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of attachment to him: a benevolence of sorts. It was almost eerie how overly-nice he was being, but it seemed earnest. Perhaps he could tell that Garrett was internally sweating bullets just to be here and was being accommodating. At least it appeared that he’d gotten the job without question? Both he and Devon. God, he didn’t wanna work with that doofus, but it appeared he had no choice. He also didn’t want to let Cliff down after all. The man had been generous enough to hire him on the spot.

Descending down the old, stone staircase, Garrett entered a far less decorated area of the banquet hall. It smelled ancient down here. The air had a decadent, musty odor of men’s colognes mixed with a faint hint of mildew. As he rounded the corner, he noticed Devon was already sifting through a cabinet full of what appeared to be black uniforms. This room looked quite old and was rather charmless, save for a few photos of past galas and smiling well-dressed people on the walls. Something about this place was giving Garrett the creeps, but he couldn’t quite place it.

There was something different about Devon too. Even though his back was to Garrett, his entire outfit seemed a lot more…faded somehow? Maybe the light was playing tricks on him because the jock’s light denim jeans looked much silkier…and greyer in this light for some reason. Unfortunately, the poor basement lighting could not explain the shirt collar that had materialized around the jock’s neck.

“How do they not have my size?” Devon griped, his back still to Garrett.

As Garrett walked closer to his acquaintance, a hazy feeling filled his head, as if he’d inhaled way too much of the dust down here. The ground started to feel farther away for some reason. “Wait, why are you shorter…than me?” he asked aloud.

“Shorter?” Devon snorted, now spinning around to face Garrett. “I’m not-”

The two boys stared at each other with unspoken shock as Devon’s tall figure began to squash down. He looked down in horror as the tall, muscular legs he used to score touchdowns were quickly reduced to two chubbier-looking nubs. The dramatic truncation left him at a condensed height of 5’8”, six inches shorter than before. His athletic torso appeared virtually unchanged, but his height - one of his most defining attributes - had been cruelly taken from him in an instant. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?” Devon roared, his composure gone in a flash.

“I-I-I didn’t do this!” Garrett squeaked. If he wasn’t so terrified from Devon’s uproar, he would’ve giggled at his puny height. The jock’s muscular stature looked a lot cuter with his height condensed down - like he was a junior version of himself. “I…promise I didn’t. I don’t even-WHOA!”

Garrett’s plea was cut short as he promptly shot up like a weed. At one point he’d been eye-level with Devon, but his legs and lower torso just kept stretching taller and taller until stopping at an imposing height. He flailed his arms out for a moment as his new 6’6” body nearly toppled over. It felt like he was walking on stilts! “Whoa! What the heck is happening?” he asked as he placed a hand on his forehead. Glancing upward, the newly-minted lanky sapling of a boy realized he was now only a few inches from touching the low, old ceiling. “No, no, I c-can’t be tall,” he stuttered. From the flabbergasted look on Devon’s face, he could tell he was shocked and quite jealous. Mostly jealous.

Devon craned his neck up at Garrett and scowled with disgust. “This doesn’t even make any-DUDE, your clothes!”

“My clothes?” Garrett asked. He glimpsed down and watched as his clothes suddenly started to cascade down his body. The first thing he saw were his t-shirt sleeves gliding down from his upper arms to his elbows until they stopped at his wrists. A pair of French cuffs formed on the ends of his new flowy sleeves, accompanied by a pair of distinct “POPS!” as two golden cufflinks materialized. They were nothing short of glossy, refracting the shoddy basement lighting beautifully. Simultaneously, Garrett’s cargo shorts started shuddering all on their own. They too began to distend further and further to the floor until they rested just above his sneakers. Darkness intruded upon the brown coloration of his shorts, turning them into a maroon and then a vibrant sable. A silky fabric also enveloped the khaki of the cargo shorts, stealing away their bagginess and eradicating the oversized front pockets.

“What the hell is happening to us?” For once, Devon’s confident voice wavered, giving way to audible apprehension.

“I…I don't KNOW!” Garrett squealed as his new pair of pants was suddenly hoisted up by an invisible force. Or it wasn’t invisible, it appeared to be a pair of brown, leathery suspenders with metal clips that glistened in the light…which had magically materialized over him somehow? They locked in place and pulled Garrett’s pants up around his stomach. The movement scrunched up his t-shirt for a moment before the fabric magically levitated and gingerly tucked itself in, leaving zero wrinkles behind. “Y-you’re s-seeing this too, right?” he stuttered.

“Of course I fucking am!” Devon snarled, his face red with anger and embarrassment. Garrett’s eyes goggled incredulously as Devon’s new outfit looked even more elaborate than his. Gone forever was his grey t-shirt and blue jeans and instead he now sported a long-sleeved dress shirt fit with an array of vibrant mother-of-pearl buttons complemented by a pair of black suit pants. Devon’s new dapper attire accentuated every ripple of his body from his larger-than-average arms and legs. Most interestingly, his belly had a faint bump to it now, like he was bloated or something.

Garrett was mesmerized as he watched the jock struggle in his new, expertly-tailored clothes. Simultaneously, he couldn’t resist the urge to steal glances at himself and watch as his shirt dyed itself blue and his new dress pants dyed themselves a relaxing shade of light grey. In unison, both of their respective waterfalls of new clothing entered their final cascade. To mark its near terminus, a brand new pair of black suspenders sprung up from Devon’s dress pants. They yanked his pants up high up past his belly button. “GUH!” Devon cried in anguish as the suspenders attached around his shoulders and locked his pants in a painful-looking position. Garrett didn’t dare look for long, but he noticed that the jock’s genitals were bulged up in the pants’ fly as a result.

“This fucking hurts!” Devon cried, unable to hold in his rage “I can’t even feel my co-o--ock!”

Unlike Garrett, Devon’s clothes had a few more tricks up their sleeves. Firstly, an ocean of black stitching materialized over his pristine white dress shirt. It started at his shirt collar and promptly swallowed up his back and his pecs, until finally stopping just above his waist. Devon’s attempts to undo his tight suspenders were cruelly cut short as a brand new black suit jacket concealed his entire torso. Garrett gawked in disbelief, no longer concealing his curious glances. Devon pulled and picked at his new blazer with much ire. Three buttons appeared in the center of the boxy item of clothing and promptly fastened themselves. Devon’s abdomen and self-proclaimed “rock-hard abs” were concealed by the jacket while the top half of the blazer allowed for a triangle of view of his dress shirt. To complete his new expensive outfit, two black ribbons appeared on either side of his neck. Gracefully, they pirouetted around each other and promptly fastened a tight knot, leaving a spiffy black bowtie just under Devon’s Adam’s Apple. As a final touch, a purple strand of satin formed around the young man’s waist of all things. It wrapped around his obliques and banded over his lower back, creating a brand new indigo cumberbund and finalizing Devon’s extravagant uniform.

To finalize Garrett’s much less-invasive changes, a suit jacket of his own materialized and gently wrapped itself around his upper body. A checkerboard of green and white squares covered the illustrious, new fabric. He moved his arms around in it and was surprised to find that it felt light and breathable. Garrett’s eyes fell back onto Devon, who looked like a deer in headlights. Neither knew what to say. The strangest part was the fact that Devon’s pants were so tight - tight enough that Garrett could even see his balls all bunched up in the front. What was that called again? A camel toe? A moose-knuckle? Devon Kearney, one of the douchiest jocks in school, had an actual moose-knuckle. Before Garrett could stop himself, a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Devon snarled before immediately placing a hand on Garrett’s chest and forcefully shoving him into the wall. For a body three-quarters as tall as it once was, he still retained quite a lot of strength.

Garrett was petrified. “No, no, Devon, I-”

“This is all your fault somehow!” Devon roared, now inches from Garrett’s face. “Of course, being paired with Garrett Carmicheal of all people would result in some fucking weird nerdy black magic shit!” He tugged at his dapper uniform in disgust. The only remnant of his street clothes was the baseball cap still on his head. “I look like such a fucking dork!”

Devon was speechless. It was disturbing to see the jock’s unflappable, cocky exterior completely shattered, replaced by flagrant rage. “Devon, I-”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't pound the shit out of you!”

“Devon, no…stop!” Garrett stuttered, overcome with fear.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Instantly, Devon obeyed the command. He released his tight grip on Garrett’s sternum and stepped back in an almost robotic fashion. “Huh?”

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Devon replied, placing his muscular arms to his side and standing up as straight as possible. He shook his head. “Wuh, why did I…do that?”

Garrett wasn’t sure how to react. Instead, he just focused on catching his breath and peering down at his disoriented comrade. It was wild to think that Devon, the 6’4” tall linebacker who towered over Garrett in history class, had been reduced to a meager 5’8” height. Even crazier was the fact that he actually obeyed a command.

POP! POP!

It took a moment for Garrett to realize that the two sharp pings had actually been his top two shirt buttons flying loose. “My shirt…” was all he could say as he wordlessly glanced down at his now, partially-exposed chest. Instead of seeing a flat chest and distinct collar bone, he was surprised to see that his pecs were actually protruding out? And they were still inflating!

“Goodness gracious!” Devon exclaimed before putting a hand over his mouth.

The two boys could only watch helplessly while Garrett’s chest continued inflating. His pecs were a statement now - two growing muscular slabs, as sturdy as bricks, that tempted with their masculinity. Short, spindly dark chest hairs sprouted up in the center, which had now formed a small chasm. Although Garrett was enticed, he was unbelievably confused. A scrawny geek like him wasn’t supposed to have tits like this! He’d never even set foot in a gym. Or maybe he had? After all, it must’ve taken a decade’s worth of vigorous exercise to get pecs this round and supple. They were so huge that even his nipples had been pushed to the side and had puffed out, now each closely resembling the tip of a baby’s bottle. They were so sensitive too. He could imagine them tensing up every time his French cuffs grazed them or whenever he would give them loving squeezes in private. In fact, he could recall they gave him some kind of unorthodox pride - seeing them perked up in every formal picture he’d ever taken. His bros would even joke and call him Kate Upton because of it.

Garrett’s cock ascended, and noticeably tented his wool dress pants. Absent-mindedly, he ran a hand through his thick, long hair and parted it to one side - something he’d never done before. Of course, the hair didn’t stick due to the lack of product and instead, it just hung there as a gnarled mess with most of it flattened down and the other half sticking straight up like a porcupine’s quills. “God, what is happening to me,” Garrett huffed as he impulsively grabbed at his bulge.

“It appears you’re changing, sir,” Devon aptly replied, his voice sounding a lot more monotone.

“I…I really am,” Garrett replied, his voice nearly crescendoing into a moan as he gave his bulge a shake. “I look different, don’t I? More cleaned up, eh? More prim and proper. More mature, even.”

“T-that you do,” Devon confirmed, stuttering his words as he was forced to swallow a snarky rebuttal. He was losing his will to be a contrarian. Instead, his disposition was becoming far more accommodating and congenial, accompanied by an enhancing vocabulary. “Me too!” he pouted, his monotone voice once again possessing his familiar churlishness. “I hate this tux thing I’m dressed in. I don’t want to look mature! Although spectacular, my regalia is quite oleaginous, isn’t it? GAHH! What am I saying?!”

Garrett gazed back up at Devon, or rather peered down at him - the fear and frustration was evident on the other teen’s distraught face. He also appeared to have put on a few more pounds somehow. His growing arms and pec muscles took on a far more squishy shape and his tight stomach crafted by years of high school football had a much pudgier contour to it.

“GUHH!” Garrett roared, at a low register, similar to Devon’s voice, realizing the changes were far from over. Two shockwaves of blood surged through his arms, immediately filling them with volatility. A pair of massive, bodybuilder-sized biceps gradually inflated within the confines of the bespoke twill shirt. Garrett could only watch transfixed as his skinny, noodle arms - the things he’d hated the most about himself - became nothing of the sort. The muscles in his forearms followed suit as they pulled apart and tightened up with protein-laden muscle, becoming permanent, cylindrical-shaped obtrusions in every shirt he would ever wear. Around fifteen seconds later, Garrett’s barrel-sized arms were now tastefully concealed beneath the tight, stretchy fabric of his dress shirt. Mercifully, his golden cufflinks remained intact and undisturbed, their dazzling opulence a necessary accentuation of his rigid wrists. Garrett was in awe. Even his hands looked manlier - they looked more plump and more formidable somehow. His nails were perfectly manicured and his digits must’ve doubled in size, dropping their nimble slimness in favor of a more boxing glove-like shape.

A wave of growth undulated through his abdomen as it began to slowly extend forward to a similar breadth of his mighty pecs. With it came two distinct pops, but this time it came from deep within his abs. It felt like he was flexing abdominal muscles that had never made themselves known before. To confirm his suspicion, the two pops multiplied into four and then six until concluding on eight square-shaped indentations etched into his abdomen. Bespoke twill felt incredible against his brand new eight-pack. “God, I’m really filling out, huh?” Garrett smirked as an impulsive affirmation to himself.

“Yes, I am too,” Devon answered nervously.

Garrett glanced down and the first thing he noticed about Devon was the bulbous sphere that his belly had become. It wasn’t like he was obese or anything, but to call Devon a jock would be laughably inaccurate. This stomach of his had to be at least fifty pounds and it jutted straight out like a boulder. It didn’t sag low like a belly normally would, it hung high and tall, suspended by hidden, rigid muscle. Something told Garrett it would only get bigger.

“AGH!” Garrett yelped as he felt two muscles viciously tingle each of his shoulders before they began to stretch upward. A pair of glorious trapezius muscles flared out, giving him a menacing hood of muscle around his neck similar to a king cobra. Quickly, their immensity made his small, boyish head and mop of brown, unkempt bowl cut look extremely out of place. As Garrett’s trap muscles finished their transition into ones that a bodybuilder would envy, he attempted to turn his head 90 degrees, but found that to be quite a challenge. His neck too had also stretched wider to compete with the overgrown atoll of his trap muscles. Eliminating the soreness in his new muscular neck, Garrett rocked it back and forth and felt his bones and veins snap into place. The process sent a giant tear through the back of his Star Wars tie, whose lopsided Windsor knot had also fared no match for Garrett’s expanding, meaty neck and shoulder. It now hung loosely, dangling precariously over his massive tits about to plop to the ground.

“Pardon me sir, your tie is askew,” Devon piped up.

Before Garrett could react, his portly acquaintance gingerly removed the tie from his figure and was running it through his hands. He blinked and all of a sudden, Devon’s hands were concealed beneath a pair of satin white gloves. Paired with that, his hands looked larger too - like two baseball mitts.

“What is with this tie?” Devon added, staring at the Star Wars Mandalorian emblems on the tie. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, it’s my good luck tie,” Garrett replied. “I wore it for…the interview…” He trailed off for a moment as his memories of an interview grew a little hazier. They were both here for some reason, but this seemed like a strange situation for an interview. “Have you always been wearing gloves?” It was a straightforward thing for him to ask, but he genuinely was curious.

“Yeah, it’s a part of the uniform,” Devon nodded although his brow furrowed with confusion over his own comment. It was as if he didn’t know what he was going to say next.

“Okay,” Garrett replied intently, giving Devon a snide smirk. His cock bobbed in his trousers as he thought of the idea of a football player bending to his whim and being involuntarily supportive.

Devon’s face didn’t show much more emotion. Instead, he was putting his new man-hands to work some magic on the tattered tie. As he rolled up the tie, the array of Mandalorian emblems began to fade. First, the helmet’s outline faded before diffusing in all directions and melting into the navy blue coloration of the tie. In some miraculous animation, Garrett watched as the colors danced into each other before brightening until they reached a divine, subdued seafoam green. With a firm shake from Devon’s hands, the tie fattened up and lost any trace of its former self.

“What did you do?” Garrett asked, his heart sunk as his favorite tie from one of his favorite movies was gone forever.

“Hermés,” Devon said, answering a question never asked. “Mint is quite the nice touch for the outfit too.” He handed it to Garrett who just looked at it dumbly. “You know how to tie a tie don’t you?” Devon asked smugly, his voice sounding much more…posh and preppy. “We don’t want that Cliff fellow to be mad.”

“Yeah for sure,” Garrett replied as he unconsciously wrapped the tie around his collar. In only a few seconds and a few deft maneuvers, his hands nimbly created a Windsor knot.

“I taught you well,” Devon applauded, his eyebrow crooked as he dissected his statement. Still, his mouth continued its whimsical dialogue. “You can tie a tie as fast as I can tie my shoes. Or at least as fast as I used to be able to tie them.” He gestured at his bass drum of a belly and chuckled at himself.

Garrett couldn’t help but snicker too. Devon’s bubbly nature was somewhat infectious. It was kind of hot - imagining the portly ex-jock catering to his needs, but also being a genuinely nice person. That would be a nice change.

“Isn’t that better?” Devon asked. A faint panic still permeated his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he was asking these questions and indulging Garrett like this.

“Yeah,” Garrett smiled with a conceited grin as he ran a hand through his floppy, greasy mop of crumpled hair. The movement caused more strands to flop down successfully, causing them to be quaffed straight back as if they were drenched in gel. Garrett didn’t pay it any mind. He just enjoyed how perfectly his mint tie complemented the checkered pattern of his blazer. This nearly-gaudy attire - he wanted to hate it - but he couldn’t. It accentuated his muscles perfectly! Oh yeah. His muscles. “I feel like a million bucks!” Garrett said with an honorary flex.

“Good, good,” Devon jovially replied. In accordance with his jolliness, a new layer of fat formed around his stomach and stretched out his resplendent tuxedo even further. A wave of compassion and maturity overcame him, replacing his adolescent panic. Looking at a burgeoning young stud like Garrett made him feel…proud in a way? It made him feel oddly paternal, as if their ages were different or something? “You have to look your best for your special day,” Devon added, before grimacing at how cringe he sounded. Still, it felt eerily correct to assist Garrett with his newfound sartorial knowledge.

“My special day?” Garrett asked before smirking once more. “That’s right. It…is my special day. I just can’t remember why.”

“Me neither,” Devon admitted. His adolescent rage towards Garrett had faded completely. It was impossible to get mad a young, promising stud like him. Instead, he glared down at his new rotund body ruefully. “I look like a fucking gumdrop,” he pouted as he poked and prodded at his round belly and pecs. He craned his stubby neck to see that even his broad, hulking thighs made his dress pants look vacuum-sealed. It reminded him of wearing padded football pants. His chest was ridiculously huge too - his pecs were like two airbags resting atop a giant, protrusive boulder. Thankfully, his pecs didn’t sag like other older men’s man-boobs often did. They just hung there, taunting Devon with their undeniable stoutness. It was enthralling in a way - the idea of his cannonball-shaped stomach on display in every shirt he ever wore. That made him feel so…mature, like a father figure of sorts. His corpulence, unapologetically masculine, equally disgusted and excited him. At least his plump body looked well-dressed and concealed perfectly by this uniform. Devon could picture so many men his age, or…his father’s age, who didn’t know how to dress themselves - the type to have the undersides of their bellies exposed in public and who wore thin, ill-fitting t-shirts with visible, nasty sweat stains. Devon felt some strange pleasure in the fact that his clothes were tailored just for him. It made him feel much more…powerful that way. This well-dressed, paunchy body of his was an extension of his own masculinity.

Garrett was lost in his own self-indulgent thoughts as he inspected his own chest. He gave his nipples a tweak and winced at how sensitive they were. Rubbing the back of his meaty hand against the expensive fabric, he could feel a God, he loved being a man. A huge, hunky, muscular, young, confident man. One whose body jutted out in every direction in his formal clothes - kinda like Devon’s did, only Garrett’s were far more perky and traditionally attractive. He’d never clamored over his body like that before. It was quite the rush - a premonition of his constantly evolving virility and an extension of his own masculinity.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Garrett asked abruptly, causing Devon to return back to reality. The two of them froze and sure enough, they realized that there was now an abundance of noise emanating above them. A faint bassline and drums could be heard accompanied by a moderately-loud chatter of people conversing. “There’s people upstairs.”

Devon turned white as a ghost. “Oh no, oh shit dude, people can’t see me like…like this!” he cried, holding up his pudgy, balloon-shaped belly in rife disgust.

“Yeah, you look like a blimp,” Garrett chuckled. For a moment, he almost regretted saying it, but his fear of Devon was dissipating. They were equals now - no longer bound by archaic notions of a teenage hierarchy.

“Manners please,” Devon retorted, primping his suit. He didn’t appear to be that offended by the comment though, considering he didn't give Garrett any vicious retaliation. In fact, he seemed to be captivated by his tuxedo jacket. “My coattails. They nearly stretch to the floor!” he said with dopey astonishment, stretching his neck to inspect the way the coat draped over his pot-bellied frame. “They kinda look like a superhero’s cape. It’s quite…marvelous, isn’t it?”

“Whoa, your voice! It sounds British!” Garrett laughed. “Would you like some tea and crumpets, governor?”

Devon was not amused. “Sir, please,” he huffed, far more displeased than angry. “I don’t think it’s quite appropriate to make fun of my accent. I surely don't mock you for your deep voice.”

A twinge of guilt pulsed through Garrett. If a jerk like Devon could learn politeness, surely he could too. “Right, right, I’m sorry,” he said, completely oblivious while his voice lost its teenage squeak in favor of a commanding, baritone register. “I guess I never expected a football player to act so formal.” The voice that Garrett now had sounded like it belonged to a male country singer rather than a raspy 18 year old.

“Football?” Devon gasped. He could recall playing it for a brief moment, but the memories of it all came crashing down instantly. Like a piece of paper being incinerated to ash. A man of his rotund stature certainly wouldn’t be the greatest at the sport unless he was an offensive lineman. “I have…never played football before,” Devon said, almost in a state of shock as the words left his lips. “I wouldn’t be too fast on the field. Not with a belly like…OOOFF…like this.” Without warning, fifty more pounds were piled onto Devon’s stomach, causing him to look like even more of a portly freak. This monster gut looked ready to rip free from his uniform at any moment, but thankfully it had swiftly stretched with his beastly proportions to prevent that.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s not called soccer where you’re from.”

“Huh? I…oh yes, that’s quite correct.” Devon’s head was spinning. His definition of the sport was changing. Football was nothing like it was here in the States. It was a far less violent and barbaric sport in the U.K. but most importantly, it was an excuse to get a pint with the lads and watch his favorite team whenever he went back home. Or wait, wasn’t this home? Everything was getting fuzzy.

Garrett was feeling the same way as he zoned out for a moment, gazing down at his sophisticated clothes. Or rather hunky, sophisticated body - the clothes were just an extension of himself. “Well, I think we should head upstairs and talk to that Cliff guy and maybe he can help us.”

“Ah Cliff, what a fine gentleman!” Devon perked up, like a robot coming to life. His deep, Welsh accent teeming with merriment. “Yes, let’s!”

Garrett tried his hardest not to snicker as Devon led the way. His bouncy, blubbery figure certainly didn’t move the way it once did. At first, he clearly was trying to move at the speed of a highschool quarterback, but his gait was reduced to a sluggish waddle. Something else had also changed about Devon. It was his back - which looked quite broader for some reason. Paired with his angular shoulders, his upper body was turning into quite an imposing-shaped rectangle. For a man of smaller stature, his figure was still quite imposing.

“I’m sure everyone is waiting to see you.” Devon said merrily as he reached the wooden stairs.

“Ah that’s right,” Garrett replied and a burst of dopamine suddenly hit his brain, promptly inhibiting any more questioning of their predicament. It was his special day. Being the center of attention was something he craved - people all gathered around him, listening to him talk in length - it was like adrenaline to him : a formative adrenaline. He cherished all the accolades his hulking muscles would receive. From friends, from family members, from romantic partners. After all, he’d put in years of hard work!

Garrett was aghast as he walked up the steps behind his paunchy companion. Devon already had the tight, muscle butt of a high school quarterback, but the ascent up the staircase immediately began shaping it into an enormous cushion that was impossible to ignore. With each step upward, his glutes flared outward in all directions, stretching his wool dress pants like lycra. Inflating like balloons, Devon’s mountainous asscheeks lost some of their muscled firmness. They rhymically bobbed up and down over and over, indicative of their increased fat concentration. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, two mounds the size of basketballs and as wide as pillows had replaced Devon’s former ass. He appeared to be none the wiser as he turned sideways for a moment and readjusted his cummerbund.

Garrett froze. His cock had risen to full mast and he hated it. Illuminated by a single overhead light, Devon’s mammoth figure cast a marvelous silhouette. The equal breadth of his glorious, distended stomach and protruding suited buttocks were so oddly compelling. And stupidly erotic. Then again, Garrett had been hard since the changes started…or for the past hour while he’d been getting ready. Yeah. That was right. Dressing up always got his hormones firing.

“It seems like only yesterday you had gotten into college,” Devon reminisced as he turned his stubby neck up to Garrett who climbed to the top step.

“College?” Garrett asked. He hadn’t even graduated high school. “I don’t think-”

“Look at yourself, Garrett, ” Devon boomed. The newfound sagacity in his voice sent a shiver up Garrett’s spine. “You’ve really changed from the small, precocious lad you once were. You heed advice and apply it into your own life. In university and in bodybuilding. Why, I remember when I used to be larger than you. Hah hah hah! That’s not quite the case anymore, is it?”

“Bodybuilding? College?” Garrett was dumbfounded. Two retrospections ran parallel in his brain. In one, he was a teenage misanthrope who would much rather keep to himself and his hobbies while another, more forceful side of him savored the attention of being a heartthrob, junior bodybuilder. He craved it, actually. He wanted to loathe the feeling, but he couldn’t. Everything around him was spinning out of control so beautifully, but something told him that this was a very good thing.

“Why yes,” Devon replied, “We’re all so proud of you. You have that ambition that’s going to get you very far in life.” His voice cracked a bit. “I wish I had more of that when I was a lad.”

Before Garrett could stop himself, he’d already wrapped his arms around the portly man. Given their height difference, he’d had to lean down slightly, but he didn’t even realize he’d done that. Devon quickly reciprocated and a mutual wave of growth radiated through the two of them. It was a weird burst of unbridled sympathy the two had never felt for each other once. But it was real.

Firstly, Devon’s belly gained a final thirty more pounds, swelling larger than a yoga ball and tight as a bass drum. At one point, he’d competed in bodybuilding competitions just like Garrett was…or was going to. But now, a stout aging man like Devon much preferred to possess a distended, glorious muscle gut formed from decades of hard work and newfound relaxation. His body type was truly one of a kind - he had to make his own custom clothes for it too - and nothing made him more enthusiastic that Garrett appeared to be following the same fate of growing gigantic. Finishing its inflation, Devon’s belly pressed tightly against Garrett’s abdomen, which was starting to shrink in exchange. Any remaining pudge Garrett had was trimmed away and repurposed into a lean, X-shaped of a competition-ready bodybuilder. His nonexistent butt also began to change, promptly losing its shapelessness as it inflated into two boulders. His rear was only around three-quarters the size of Devon’s, but it had equal strength. Garrett had an enormous, perky muscle butt formed by nearly a decade of strenuous squatting and consistent training. In tandem, Garrett’s slender thighs beefed up, becoming a set of poles that could effortlessly support his hulking frame. Subconsciously, he rocked back and forth on them and the new muscles tightened into pillars as thick as stone.

“Thank you,” Devon replied as the two pulled apart. His eyes were glassy and his face had a myriad of more pronounced lines on it now. He was so happy now, happier than he had ever been from his life as a football player. Being a British butler, a man of superlative etiquette, and passing eclectic style and machismo onto a man like Garrett - that was his new purpose. “You’ve become the man deep down that I knew you always could be.”

“Of course,” Garrett smiled. He felt like his heart was going to explode. While studying Devon’s new venerable face and more mature sunken eyes, he blinked and all of a sudden, his baseball cap disappeared! Not only that, Devon’s head of vibrant blonde hair had vanished too, leaving behind a faint horseshoe of hair. He pictured Devon as having a younger, boyish face in his head, but those memories were crinkling away as he looked into this new, mature man.“Your…your hat,” was all Garrett could say.

Faint wrinkles texturized themselves around Devon’s face as he smiled. “Yes, the bowler hat felt a little unfitting on a very formal occasion like this.”

“No, you were wearing a…” Garrett trailed off, immediately forgetting that a bald, astute gentleman like Devon would ever wear a baseball cap. That seemed too…juvenile for him. Whenever he did wear a hat, it was usually a top hat or something. Even more paralyzing to Garrett was the fact that this man in front of him didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt like a family member. Like a mentor of sorts. It made sense. After all, he’d known Devon his entire life. A hazy memory traveled through Garrett’s brain. He could remember being young, back when Devon had a full head of hair and he’d wanted so badly to impress him. Now he had and the family butler couldn’t be more proud. Wait, family butler? That seemed correct for some reason, but it make any-

“Have a fun night, kid,” Devon smiled, uniquely giving the words a staccato affectation with his charming British accent, as he opened up the wooden door to the banquet hall.

Bright lights inundated Garrett’s corneas, like he’d stepped into heaven. When his eyes adjusted, he could make out around what appeared to be one hundred or so people occupying the previously vacant hall. Their attire was ritzy - like nothing Garrett had ever seen. Women adorned with beautiful, stylish dresses paired next to men dressed up in bespoke three-piece suits of various colors. A multitude of tuxedoed waitstaff were maneuvering in between the crowd of affluent guests. All parties involved seemed to be engrossed in pleasant, light-hearted conversation.

Seeing them all sent a tidal wave of fear through Garrett and the same teenage nerves he thought he’d banished inundated his brain. “Devon, there are so many-”

He turned, but Devon had already begun conversing with a crowd of five male waiters nearby who were dressed in identical tuxedos. He wanted to chuckle at how Devon’s cartoonishly massive butt eclipsed his view of the men he was talking to, but he couldn’t. In his peripheral vision, he could see people start noticing him. All the confidence he’d once had vanished instantly replaced by his familiar teenage nerves. He hated crowds - hated them so much. And now here he was trapped in the middle of one of the largest ones he’d ever seen.

Just as Garrett took his first step forward to try and slink towards the wall, he nearly collided with the silhouette of a huge, imposing man who nearly knocked him to his feet. Luckily, his reflexes were quick and he jumped back on his heels.

“Vince, there you are!” thundered the familiar, lofty stranger. It was Cliff - his interviewer of all people? He also looked more put together than before. His massive pecs were thinly concealed by a tight dress shirt preventing any chest hair from peeking through. At his side was a breathtaking entourage of beautiful guests, a group of men wearing flashy, velvety suits and a group of women wearing extravagant, ruched dresses. “We were wondering what was taking you so long!”

“Huh? My name’s not-” Garrett stopped. His deep voice, almost as low as Cliff’s, startled him and reminded him how manly he sounded. Before he could analyze it, two new heels abruptly shot out of Garrett’s sneakers, launching him a half-inch higher into the air - allowing him to become eye level with Cliff - the man who’d previously towered over him. He wanted to tremble, but there was something so comforting about the older man’s face. It made him feel seen. There was a broad, beaming smile on Cliff’s brick-shaped jaw, emanating the same sage-like reverence as Devon had.

“There’s the man of the hour!” another well-dressed man around three-quarters the size of Garrett exclaimed. By this point, the group of guests had swarmed all around him, rendering any chance of escape impossible. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of chest, from stress and a weird, weird sense of familiarity with these people, especially one of the men in front of him. His face was devoid of wrinkles and his forehead devoid of furrows. Must’ve been a lot of Botox. Even his hairline mirrored Garrett’s, which was impressive given he looked to be in his sixties or so. “Put ‘err there, Vince!” the dapper stranger exclaimed, extending out his hand.

Garrett acquiesced, not wanting to be rude. He didn’t realize how clammy his hands were until they were against this man’s dry ones. “Thanks, Uncle James. It’s so good to see you,” he replied before flinching at his weird, automatic response.

The man didn’t seem to care about being Garrett’s uncle. It did seem to make sense though. He looked like Cliff, only a few years older. “Look at that! He already got himself a Rolex! Lookin’ sharp, son!”

“A…what?” Garrett looked down at his right wrist and sure enough, there was a watch with a rich, emerald hue that looked nothing short of expensive. Upon further inspection, he realized it was the same green shade as his preppy checkered blazer and it had the same eye-catching shimmer of his cufflinks. Fuck. That turned him on for some reason. Luxury. Power. Being all dressed up. “Yeah, doesn’t it have a marvelous sparkle to it?” Garrett added, unable to contain his excitement. His voice sounded different now - a little more pompous. He was really holding the vowels of words in his mouth for longer now. It reminded him of the rich kids from his high school. Wait, where did he go to school again?

A lady in a lavender velvet dress holding a bubbling glass of champagne spoke next. She used big gestures to the group, as if she was showing Garrett off like a trophy. “Our son - the Yale graduate,” she declared, her voice sounding as proud as Cliff’s and as proud as Devon’s. “I can’t believe he finally did it.”

“Top of his class too!” Cliff added, sipping on a glass of scotch. “Don’t forget about that, Pauline.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled. “We never doubted our son for a second.”

“Graduated? From Yale? No, I’m…” Garrett sputtered as the final realization hit him. This was a party. All for him. And Cliff and Pauline. They were…his parents? That didn’t seem right, but Garrett had trouble recalling any other alternative. He could recall glimpses of his upbringing in opulent rooms, going to high-class events and developing a sartorial affinity. He now truly felt like an adult just like them. His parents’ positive words echoed in his head, filling him up with joy. For the first time in a long time, Garrett felt proud of himself. His memories of a recluse were fading while recollections of being a valedictorian and relaxed, sociable young athlete took their place.

“Looks like he’s been hitting the gym at the same time!” Uncle James piped in. “What’s your current weight?”

“280,” Garrett replied and instinctively performed a front lat spread to the group who all laughed pompously.

“Don’t get him started,” Pauline replied with a playful tap on Garrett’s shoulder.

Another man spoke up who looked muscular too, although not as muscular as Garrett. “Even during football, you were never half this size. You really took to bodybuilding during college! I can’t believe I’m looking at the same kid!”

Garrett beamed with pride and his posh accent swallowed up his old one completely. “Once I knew football wasn’t in the cards for me, I decided to take weightlifting more seriously and it really helped me.”

“Isn’t that great,” one of the ladies in the crowd smiled.

“He sure takes after his old man!” Cliff smiled, wrapping his arm around his equally-strapping son.

Garrett froze as he fully took in the breadth of his alleged father. For lack of a better word, he was just so manly. Even being a man in his fifties, he still had some incredible size to him. He must’ve been sixty pounds heavier than Garrett, which was nothing short of impressive. Cliff’s cerulean three-piece suit looked ready to rip off. Garrett could recall some strong feelings about that: the idea of getting to a massive size where all of his suits had to be custom-made to contain his sheer width. He could faintly recall a short, plump man measuring him with yellow tape as he crafted measurements for him.

Holy shit. That man was his family butler. The one he’d just seen earlier. What was his name again? Acrid guilt pulsed through Garrett’s head. This butler had been with his family his entire life and he couldn’t even remember his name. Even Garrett’s own name was growing harder to remember, but he knew one thing for sure. His name certainly wasn’t Vincent.

“Any refills on champagne?” chirped a familiar ebullient voice.

“Yes please, thank you Reginald,” one of the ladies chirped back as the butler filled up her tall glass.

Garrett turned and sure enough, his family butler was right there: Reginald Chapman - a 400 pound intimidating colossus who was actually a kind-hearted giant.

Garrett tried not to laugh. This whole situation was so far-fetched. It reminded him of that one Rick & Morty episode where the family in the show had gained memories of a butler who they thought had always been part of their family. But this situation was different from a silly cartoon like that. It wasn’t like Reginald lived with them although he was over at the house working full-time. Hell, he’d even gone on family vacations with the Atkinsons. He’d even brought his husband along. It had been a strange sight - seeing the family butler and his equally-large middle-aged husband on the beach, but it had been illuminating. But still, Reginald had his own life. He was simply the Atkinsons’ staff member. A lifelong, steadfast one at that. Happy to cater to Garrett’s needs whenever necessary and give him advice on life and bodybuilding. It seemed weird to have a private butler, but not for a family like the Atkinsons who were filthy rich.

For a moment, Garrett found that somewhat exciting - the idea of a massive man catering to his needs, but it wasn’t weird like that. Even with his portly figure, Reginald had been quite an inspiration for Garrett to take bodybuilding seriously. He’d wanted to grow - to get as big as one of his idols - a kind-hearted Englishman who was like his second father. In fact, it had been a conversation on a Bahamian beach with Reginald and his burly partner Oliver that had made Garrett realize he was bisexual - a whole separate epiphany.

“I assume the college grad over here needs a fresh glass too!” Reginald piped up, producing a clean wine glass for Garrett. He poured the perfect amount of the liquid into it and smiled. “He’s truly one of a kind isn’t he?”

The group smiled and laughed in agreement. Garrett took notice of the other patrons in the background who were also turning his way. Reginald had the volume of a foghorn after all. In the crowd, Garrett could make out a few guys and girls his age - some of the friends from college. Some of them were really attractive. This really was quite the celebration. And it was all for him.

“Dom perignon, sir,” Reginald smiled, handing Garrett the glass, his fifty-six year old face glowing with adulation.

Garrett took a sip and smiled - the expensive liquor tasted incredible. He swore he could feel the bubbles fizzing in his mouth after he swallowed.

“Raise your glasses, please!” Reginald boomed. The guests immediately obeyed, all with smiles on their faces as they stared warmly at Garrett. “To Vincent Atkinson!” Reginald thundered as the background chatter quieted down. “A young man who has changed my life as much as I hope I’ve changed his!”

There was that name again. Garrett wanted to reply, but instead a warm, compassionate feeling overcame him. He was touched by the sweetness of the family butler - a man who inspired him every day.

A cheer from all of the guests echoed through the banquet hall. They all took a sip except for Reginald who just warmly smiled. “Have a glorious night you all,” he said with a bow of his head before swiftly walking away to tend to other patrons. That’s right. Reginald was on the clock. That enthusiastic, diligent butler. Garrett watched as his plump body bounced within the confines of his long, dangling coattails as as he sidled over to another crowd.

“Vince has grown up so fast!” chimed in a male patron as the chatter started back up. “He’s sure got that Atkinson family chin!”

“Wait until he gets those Atkinson family veneers!” chimed in another who received a chastising shove from his wife.

“Family…chin?” Garrett mumbled as he felt a bubbling sensation emanating from the bottom of his face. It was the weirdest feeling, like someone was popping bubble wrap under his chin. The final piece of him was changing - his face. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to see it happen in real time. He just had to. “Excuse me, please,” Garrett said before promptly darting away before any patron could stop him. With each distinct footstep, his dress shoes grew more and more glossy, echoing throughout the opulent hall. Luckily, he located a bathroom nearby and promptly slunk inside, but not before feeling his broad shoulders scrape against the sides of the old, wooden doorframe. Garrett skulked to the mirror a panicked, breathy mess and promptly froze with disbelief at his strapping reflection.

Everything about him was huge. Unbelievably huge.

He turned to his side and ogled over his humongous chest and back jutting out in either direction. Even his biceps looked prime to rip right out of his checkered suit jacket. Lower on his body, his bulge and tight, muscle ass also jutted out from his midsection, quivering with his movements, both exuding undoubtable manliness. Now in complete privacy, Garrett’s cock rose back up to full mast. His body - it reminded him of Cliff’s - his new father - unyieldingly masculine and provocative. He was burning up under this sexy yet stifling outfit his butler had picked out.

“I’m an Atkninson,” he said to himself, eager to look like just his father - his idol.

With a distinct set of cracks, his stubby chin erupted forward, immediately doubling its width and acquiring a brand new shovel-shape. Any awkward half-grown teenage facial hair vanished with it, endowing Garrett with a clean-shaven, spotless chin accompanied by the subtle aroma of expensive aftershave. Next his lips inflated like two balloons, puffing out to an extremely kissable level. His teeth straightened and became a pure shade of white. Transfixed by his reflection, Garrett watched in wonder as his unsightly pimples and zits were eradicated from his face. In one swift blink, his eyes changed from hazel to a bright blue accompanied by a slightly thicker yet attractive nose. Propelled down by an invisible wave, Garrett’s unkempt bowl cut was finally subdued and all of the long, strands shortened to a preppy, professional length. An expertly-placed layer of gel coated the young man’s greasy brown hair, slicking it back in an instant, taking off a few inches with it.

“Mmm fuck,” Garrett huffed as he swore he felt a gust of air rush over his head. A glorious tidal wave of bright blond hair came next, swallowing up his old bushy brunette forever. He wanted to be mad at how preppy he looked, but it didn’t make sense why. This was how he’d dressed his whole life.

“I’m an Atkinson,” Garrett repeated, hard as a rock while he watched his boyish features mature ever so slightly, eradicating anyone ever mistaking him for a teenager ever again and aging him up in a man in his early 20s. That wasn’t who he was after all. Everyone was here tonight for his college graduation.

Garrett was treated to a final, illustrious animation of his altering face in the mirror as any remaining “Garrett-hood” he had was eliminated. His hairline pulled down slightly making his forehead less prominent, his eyes grew a little closer together, and his ears shrunk ever so slightly. And then as if Garrett had been staring at some magic-eye poster, it all clicked into place. His handsome face looked just like a younger version of his father. “Fuck yeah, I’m…Vincent Atkinson,” he trembled, his voice rife with anticipation.

That utterance - it sent a shockwave through Vincent. In an instant, an invisible sonic boom erupted through the room. It forced down his eyes and locked all of his handsome new attributes in place - never to be taken from him. Simultaneously, his rock-hard cock became flaccid. When Vincent reopened his eyes, he was left staring at his reflection in the mirror and there was a watery sheen over his aquamarine-shaded eyes. He was on the verge of crying for some reason? He blinked a few times and the tears only welled up further in his eyes. The lifetime of Garrett Carmicheal disappeared, replaced by a brand new handsome stud. Forever.

The instant Vincent’s mind transformed, the bathroom door flung open and in stepped a familiar, enormous man.

He flinched. His eyes were still watering. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why did he feel so sentimental all of a sudden?

Vincent’s father’s stern face immediately softened as he sidled up to his son. “Hey, hey, it’s alright to cry at these things, Vince,” he soothed his father as he wrapped his tree trunk of an arm around his son’s shoulders.

Vincent sighed and a single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it. The emotions were so much. He couldn’t believe what he’d been through. All of the schooling and now this - a graduation: which felt like the destruction of his youth. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he admitted, his voice hardly trembling. “It’s just so much. I can’t believe I’m like…like a real adult now.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes the emotions can be too much to endure. Come on, bring it in,” Vincent’s dad said, pulling his son in close for a mighty bear hug, which was immediately reciprocated. Immense strength radiated between the Atkinson men as they squeezed each other tenderly as hard as they could. The immeasurable comfort of his father - the man who had helped shape him into the confident, buff specimen he was meant to be - was so much to bear. An involuntary whimper escaped Vincent’s lips as he rested his head on top of one of his father’s strong shoulders. “I love you, kid. I’m so proud of you. We all are!” Vincent’s father added as the two released each other. He wiped a tear of his own from his own face and exhaled.

“Thanks dad,” Vincent replied before coughing and standing up straight again. He sighed and re-flattened one of his French cuffs - obsessed with the idea that his clothes were just an extension of his masculinity. Formalwear was always such a confidence-booster. Reginald had helped inspire that in him. “I think I’m alright now,” Vincent smiled. “I really needed that.”

“Anytime,” Vincent’s dad replied and the two of them headed back to the bathroom door, their two muscular butts both wider than the doorway. “How’s it feel to be a graduate?”

“Incredible,” Vincent smiled. “Like the world is at my fingertips.”

#male tf story #age progression #mental change #reality change #age progression tf #male transformation #muscle growth tf #businessman #male transformtaion #sartorial #weight gain tf #weight gain #wealthy #jock #preppy #socialite #butler

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gregorovitch-adler · 1 year ago

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My thoughts about The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes:

Let's start by summarising the movie -

No crime-solving happens in the first 34 minutes. The first act is all about Holmes and Watson's dynamic, exploration of the nature of their relationship with each other, etc. If you're the type of person who only watches/reads Sherlock Holmes for the cases, you'd believe this portion is skippable. Only the blink-and-miss detail about the "Midgets' case" is important as far as Holmes' detective work is concerned.

However, if you think exploring Holmes and Watson's interpersonal relationship and their casework are both equally important, like I do, the first act is GOLD. Most of the Tumblr gifs about this movie are from the first 30-35 mins lol.

1.) Holmes enters and they bicker like an old, married couple.

H: Oh, come now, Watson, you must admit that you have a tendency to overromanticize. You have taken my simple exercises in logic and embellished them, embroidered them, exaggerated them ---

W: I deny the accusation.

H: You have described me as six-footfour, whereas I am barely six-footone.

W: A bit of poetic license.

Not only is this whole scene just delightful in general but the theory about Watson being an unreliable narrator in ACD canon is actually being supported throughout the movie, starting right here.

W:It's those little touches that make you colorful...

H: Lurid is more like it. You have painted me as a hopeless dope addict - just because I occasionally take a five per cent solution of cocaine.

W: A seven per cent solution.

H: Five per cent. Don't you think I'm aware you've been diluting it behind my back?

This exchange was lovely. Way to slip in their closeness through a few words.

2.) Watson doesn't think it's odd to barge right in when Holmes is completely naked and taking a bath?

Also, why the hell does Holmes bathe with his bedroom door wide open?

And what's that thing he's taking a bath in called? Does anyone know about this stuff? Was this thing common in that timeline? It doesn't seem to fit a grown man like Holmes.

I have so many questions and I'm speechless at the same time. I'll just drop this here:

3.) Then Watson persuades Holmes to go to The Swan Lake ballet.

Watson enjoys that ballet, a little too much at that, mostly because he's staring at all the women on stage. (We'll get back to this later.)

Holmes on the other hand has dozed off. All he can admire about the most beautiful dancer, Petrova, is her strong arches. Which is... 🏳‍🌈

Then that whole scene about Nicholai and Petrova and Holmes in the dressing room. XD

Petrova offers a Stradivarius violin to Holmes in exchange for sleeping with her for a week, so that her child would be beautiful like her and brilliant like Holmes.

Holmes gets out of the situation by lying to both of them; saying he's in a relationship with Watson.

Honestly, that whole bit. Just look at the lines:

N: She has been dancing since she was three years old, and after all, she is now thirty-eight.

H: (gallantly) I must say she doesn't look thirty-eight.

N: That is because she is forty-six.

And:

Nicholai: (about Tolstoy) Too old --- Then we considered the philosopher, Nietzsche --

H: Absolutely first-rate mind ---

N: Too German --

Etc. They're all so funny. This whole scene is something else.

In fairness to Holmes, he did try to get himself out of the situation by lying about having hemophilia in his family, or saying that he's unromantic because he's English, etc but Petrova was having none of it.

Watson coming into the room all of a sudden gives so much clarity and calmness to Holmes. He just knows what to say to help himself because of Watson.

This unforgettable exchange:

N: You mean, you and Dr. Watson - He is your glass of tea?

H: If you want to be picturesque about it.

On a side note, I absolutely loved Nicholai's face journey throughout both scenes - in the dressing room, stuck in the middle of Holmes and Petrova's awkwardness, and later on when he asks about the alleged Holmes-Watson romance to Watson after having spread the rumour in the whole room.

I just loved his reactions a lot.

According to this movie-

Caprice of Mother Nature = Gay.

Half-and-half = Bisexual.

Watson comes to know about the rumour, after having had the time of his life with both men and women in the ballroom. Watson is pissed off, he goes home and confronts about the whole thing to Holmes.

They have a row at Baker Street, in which Watson is being extremely heteronormative again. Thinking too much about his reputation without stopping to question his own feelings and his weird fixation on Holmes' love life.

There's that famous line again:

W: Holmes, let me ask you a question. I hope I'm not being presumptuous -but there have been women in your life?

H: The answer is yes -- you're being presumptuous. Good night.

Awesome.

This marks the end of Act I.

The existence of these 33 minutes of the movie is proof that the writing team in this adaptation knows that exploring Holmes and Watson's characters and what they mean to each other is as important as Holmes' casework. Billy Wilder takes this seriously, even though there are some jokes here and there about it.

The whole of Act I is filled with raising questions about Holmes and Watson's preferences, etc. Does Holmes feel love or is he just a machine? Does Holmes feel love for Watson? Does Watson know about Holmes' feelings for him? Does Watson feel the same way about Holmes?

In my opinion, all the answers to the personal questions about Holmes are as clear as a day. What's really questionable is whether Watson knows and/or feels the same way about Holmes or not. Different viewers might draw different conclusions/inferences after watching this movie.

After this, the movie takes a turn because "Gabrielle" enters the picture, and the actual crime-solving begins from here. The tone becomes a bit more serious in this act.

A young woman, completely wet and in shock enters 221 B. Watson has to pay for her fare to the cabbie before he and Holmes take her upstairs to take care of her.

She can't remember anything at first, then from her wedding ring, Holmes gets to know her name: Gabrielle Valladon. Her husband's name is Emile Valladon.

She appears to have temporary amnesia because of getting hit on the forehead and almost drowning in the Thames.

She reveals info about herself that she's from Belgium, her husband was here in London for a job, they used to write to each other, and after some time, the letters from her husband stopped coming. She'd gone to the London police first after coming to this city. She says the police had advised her to consult Sherlock Holmes.

Now, this should make the viewer skeptical of her. Scotland Yard does consult Sherlock Holmes when they need him, but they aren't going to let him have the whole case if there's a situation like this.

Besides, that woman ending up at Baker Street specifically seems to be planned, anyway. Also, there's always this man who keeps waiting for her or someone else's signals on the outside.

I know what we see on screen comes from Watson's drafts on loose pages, but this movie's narration seems to be Third Person Omniscient POV to me. Where the viewer is privy to more information as compared to the characters.

The three of them keep looking for her husband's whereabouts, and she pretends to be helpless, needy, and fragile (to stroke the ego of the men around her, I believe. I mean that could be one of the reasons...) with temporary amnesia throughout most of the movie. Holmes and Watson don't suspect a thing about her as they keep working for her and she keeps sending cryptic messages to the "Trappists" (German government) with her parasol.

The thing I love about this act:

Ilse von Hofmannsthal aka Gabrielle Valladon is actually a competent character who happens to be a woman. We can see something shady is going on with her even though we don't know her real name, but one of the most brilliant people on the planet doesn't suspect anything. He thinks she's just a woman looking for her husband's whereabouts. He thinks her back story is real.

He keeps on thinking that until Mycroft basically tells him in the third act which is why we're able to see for ourselves that Ilse was genuinely able to outsmart Holmes. We don't have to be told by the narrative voice about Ilse's strengths (*cough* unlike BBC Sherlock and a lot of female characters written by Steven Moffat *cough*).

I, for one, felt respectful of Ilse or "Gabrielle" for real. It was quite refreshing to me after having watched some modern Holmes adaptations.

Holmes, Watson, and "Gabrielle" go looking for the cause of Emile Valladon's death after they've found his coffin in the graveyard, in the guise of having a picnic. Holmes and "Gabrielle" pretend to be a married couple - Mrs and Mr Ashdown, and Watson is their valet. The scenes after this point are delightful mainly because of Watson's reactions (which could be read as his jealousy over Holmes, too).

Also, me when Holmes calls Watson 'John' in an archaic Holmes adaptation:

Because of his sort of stupidity, Holmes takes Ilse, a German spy, right in front of the submersible (which he thinks is a mechanical 'monster' that lives underwater) in a boat, along with Watson.

Ilse was trying to grab as much information as she could about that secret project because she was working for her country. Who knew someone would show her the live version of that model so readily (albeit unknowingly)? :P

The three of them are obviously unable to find anything about Emile Valladon, so they go back to the inn room they're staying in.

That's when one of Mycroft's men comes to pick Holmes up and take him to his elder brother. Here's when the third act begins, I think.

Mycroft had warned Sherlock not to pursue "Gabrielle's" case any further during the second act. But Sherlock didn't listen, because a.) he's an empathetic man, and b.) Mycroft can't just order him to do or drop something just because. Sherlock is not a child anymore.

I know Mycroft was only trying to protect Sherlock, and that he couldn't have told him the real reason to stop him at that time, but still.

Either way, months of planning and testing the submersible have gone to waste because Holmes did not suspect at any point that his client, "Gabrielle Valladon" might have just been lying to him since the start. Can't blame Holmes for that. Ilse was meticulous.

Mycroft shows the model to the queen and she strongly disapproves of the model and curses it a lot. Personally, this seemed to be a shitty decision on her part, and I felt so frustrated and annoyed at her in that scene. She didn't even care to hear about its features. She just rejected it on the spot! :(

Mycroft decides to 'give the submarine' to the German government. It's implied that the Trappists were drowned along with the submarine itself in the deep waters. (That's what I gathered from that scene - correct me if my interpretation was wrong).

In conclusion, while Ilse is genuinely able to outsmart Holmes (unlike some writers forcing us to believe it in their adaptation because they told us so), the German government isn't able to go anywhere with the info they've gathered through Ilse because of Mycroft's last move. Moreover, the English government would have sent her to jail, if Sherlock hadn't suggested Mycroft send her back to her own country.

So, in the end, it's a lose-lose situation for all of them.

1.) Sherlock Holmes didn't know that Ilse was faking her name and her whole identity for a long time, so he unknowingly helped a German spy, thinking he was just helping an ordinary client. Ilse almost had him and the viewers could see for themselves that she'd outsmarted him.

2.) Even after Ilse von Hofmannsthal has got what she wanted for her government, as a spy, they aren't able to make use of that info because of Mycroft. And she has to get out of England anyway.

3.) Mycroft Holmes also fails, to some extent, because ages of effort to plan the submersible, hide the plans, and test the model in secret - all of it has gone to waste. The queen doesn't even want to hear him out in the end.

But even if it was a lose-lose situation, the battle was damn intriguing because of the high intellect on both sides - Holmes brothers and Ilse.

Months later, Holmes receives a letter from Mycroft about Ilse's arrest and execution by the Japanese government. Reading that, he's so moved that he can't even finish his breakfast. He gets up and asks Watson for his cocaine supply. Watson tells him, and then Holmes grabs the bag and goes to his room. Holmes shuts himself in, Watson gets up from the breakfast table too, sits beside the fireplace, and begins to write something on a piece of paper. Probably about the case, but for nobody to see.

End of Act III and the movie.

I loved the background score of this movie. It's quite touching and refreshing to listen to.

A lot of dialogue exchanges in the movie are so deep if you stop to think about them. It's unbelievable how much writers can convey through a few words. Some of them are quite funny too - particularly from Act I. There's a thin line between being funny and mocking, and TPLOSH didn't cross that. It was nice.

I love this portrayal of Sherlock Holmes. It's clear how deeply they've understood him from the original canon. Pretends to be dismissive and closed off but actually cares about everyone way too much.

I also liked Mycroft in this movie, even if he didn't have much screen time.

About Ilse von Hofmannsthal - I loved her. Seriously, this is how you write female characters, modern writers! People say ASIB is a direct adaptation of TPLOSH, which is true, but I'd prefer TPLOSH over that episode any day, and one of the reasons is the way the female lead has been written in the former. Not exactly a fan of how Moffat wrote her in his adaptation. He did her dirty, I'd say.

Characters like Ilse make me think that the writing team of this movie knew what feminism is. I can't say the same for the modern Holmes adaptation that has been heavily inspired by TPLOSH.

I loved the plot of this movie too. The case in itself was also pretty interesting and kept me hooked throughout. Even if it wasn't exactly resolved finally, and the ending was melancholic.

I wasn't expecting the movie to be this good. Which is why it took me so long to sit down and watch it.

I only have one complaint about this movie - Watson's characterisation.

I mean, Watson wasn't half as bad as I'd expected (I thought he was going to be horrible, based on the snippets of the movie I'd seen before), but still. I like how he doesn't fall into the bumbling idiot stereotype. As far as the casework is concerned, Watson is also quite competent and observant in his own right. He can handle the medical work too.

I've got problems with his heteronormativity, and the fact that when it comes to deducing what lies in Holmes' heart, he's dumb as bricks. It's annoying. Like, it's one thing if he doesn't feel the same way about Holmes, but he doesn't have to be so weird and homophobic about it. Also, I think Holmes should've told him about the truth related to Ilse and the 'mechanical monster'. I've had enough of 'keeping Watson in the dark for his own good', damn it! He should be more in the knowledge.

Watson's character was the only element in the movie that didn't receive justice from the writer. As a Watson-centric fan, I need this to stop happening in future Holmes adaptations. People should see more from his POV too, and stop to actually see where he's coming from, and properly understand his character in the next show/movie/whatever they make.

What I gathered from the movie about the characters and their interpersonal relationships-

Holmes is in love with Watson but doesn't admit it... for valid reasons this time. (side eyes at Watson's homophobia).

Watson is deeply attached to Holmes but sees him as a close friend. I wish he felt the same way about Holmes in this movie, but alas! Though if he doesn't feel that way about Holmes, why the hell does he seem so jealous of Ilse in Acts II and III? This is beyond me.

I think what they've tried to show is that Watson is too close-minded to confront his possibly repressed feelings for Holmes, deep within his heart? Maybe. It could very well be my wishful thinking lol.

But as far as Holmes' feelings for Watson are concerned, it's not even wishful thinking. It's just... right there. I wish the subtext about Holmes' pining were spelled out. I know why it couldn't (the Doyle estate was being a pain in the ass at that time), but still. It's quite clear what they wanted to write as far as Holmes' emotional side was concerned, but they dropped it from the scripts after Act I and decided to focus on the case instead.

Holmes is dismissive of 'Gabrielle' at first, but he becomes sympathetic for her after some time. He reaches out to help her with her situation, and as the plot moves forward, he grows affectionate for Gabrielle/Ilse, which is why he doesn't hold a grudge against her when he realises he's been outsmarted by this woman (even though his ego was mildly hurt for a while).

The way they maintained a balance between the plot and the characters is commendable. I love seeing well-written women in fiction and this movie showed me that.

I was surprised to see how good this movie turned out to be, as compared to my preconceived opinions. The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes has officially become my comfort movie now. Miles ahead of BBC Sherlock, in my opinion.

Thanks to my discussions with @jamielovesjam in a previous post about this movie lol. I wouldn't have wanted to watch the movie if not for the long talk I had with them. Also tagging @gaypiningshit and @helloliriels for further discussion.

End of my unnecessarily long rambling.

#sherlock holmes #john watson #holmes/watson #meta #the private life of sherlock holmes #TPLOSH #sherlock meta #my long ass review of a newfound favourite movie #movie review #gregorovitch being passive-aggressive #Ilse von Hofmannsthal #new blorbo acquired #strong female characters #a lovely movie overall #long post

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2g-1k · 17 days ago

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2G1K - Chapter 5

"Kid named Callen:"

Class, let’s give Callen a hard fucking time! Kid named Callen: The word count this time is like 2x longer than the previous 4 chapters yipee. Think of it as an apology for not posting for so long (I struggled to write this for a long time). Hoping chapter 6 will be pumped out faster lol

Masterpost

If the word “bruh” existed in Callen’s vocabulary, it would have definitely been in his top ten most used words.

Because what are the chances that you would encounter a giant, an army of soldiers— or guards, whatever the nobles call them— at the same time?

For god’s sake, he just wanted to spend a quiet, secluded life painting the skies or making new dyes to experiment with or something! He didn’t ask for an eventful life!

Was peace and quiet that hard to provide?

Callen’s eyes gave his immediate situation a quick scan. Maybe 30 soldiers, more or less, he estimated. Surprising, considering that they usually tend to travel in an army of 50. Currently, the most important thing he noticed was that they look disoriented with fear and confusion.

Which is very amusing to see on a Royal Guard’s face. Imagine going through a decade of harsh training and whatever army stuff and then they are instantly rendered incapable of anything by Mr. Big Fucker here. A tiny bubble of schadenfreude swelled up inside him, before bursting into a mentally imagined “POP!” when Callen remembered that the giant also has the ability to do anything to Callen if he so desires.

Great.

Not like he would, maybe. He hasn’t been hurt or anything. Yet. Though with that size, he can probably cause some significant harm unintentionally, and he sure as hell did not want to die, or worse, live with some life-changing injury that will stop him from living his peaceful life. Best to run away the first chance he gets.

Oh wait, he no longer had a peaceful life since yesterday. Oh well, what is life if it doesn’t give you shit to suffer from, right?

“Yo, you. The small one,” the most muscular looking man Callen had ever seen, walked out from the sea of people, parting them into two groups the way Moses would part the Red Sea, if Callen knew what Christianity was.

Callen was an anxious pile of sweat only thinking of ways to escape. Hearing these exact words spoken from the muscular soldier was as if his words cast a spell on Callen, turning him from a ball of anxiety into a dumbfounded, slightly offended ball.

What fucking person, with the title of Royal Guard, says “yo”?! He’s not even respecting his own title? That’s waaayy too casual a manner to talk to someone while doing his duty. And what did he mean by “the small one”?! Hello?! I am not small! Or- in this case we all are small compared to Big Hunk of Meat here!

He’d say this to the man himself, but Callen did not have the authority to be casual to someone with a higher social status than him. So instead he answered obediently with a, “Yes, sir.”

He’s gonna say that he has to ask me some questions.

“It appears that I need to ask you a few questions concerning our current situation here.”

Fucking knew it!

“Walk with me.” The man gestured for Callen to follow him to a spot just at the edge of the forest. To Callen, this is good news: He knows this forest well, and no one can possibly find him unless he wanted them to.

The bad news is that he has this guy’s full attention, so unless he magically falls unconscious, perhaps from someone incapacitating him by throwing a rock at his head…There would be nowhere to run off without being caught first.

There was an awkward silence between both men for about ten seconds until the man decided to clear his throat and start the conversation.

“So, introductions first and all, I’m Jang-i, but call me just that. No need for formalities and all,” he grabbed Callen’s hand for a very firm shake. “So, I’d like your name, and…um. Basically whatever happened here. Like what’s with that giant thing?”

With the most I-really-don’t-feel-like-talking look Callen can muster up, he answered, “I’m Callen.”

Jang-i gave him a thumbs up and waited for his next sentence.

“I don’t know shit.”

A thumbs down reaction followed.

“Bro, Callen,” Jang-i spoke again, but with slightly less friendliness than before, “tell you what. I really just want to finish this expedition and go home. You probably want the same too, so I’m just telling you what to do to get over with it fast.”

“But I really don’t know shit about hi—”

“Just tell me literally anything you know, ple—” “WELL I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” Callen, face red hot with frustration that this man isn’t listening to him, exclaimed. “Yesterday I saw a bright light flash in the sky and then there was an earthquake. Don’t remember. I was painting. Then he chased me just to hold me like I’m some curious specimen! And now this! I just want to fucking do nothing.”

Jang-i just stared. “Callen. I know I kinda promised that I’ll let you go home once this is done, but…”

“...But?” Haha, butt. Callen did not find his own joke funny.

“...But you’re going to the capital with us.”

No. There is no way he’d ever want to go to the capital ever again.

Fuck the capital.

Now would be a good time to make a run for it, Callen, he mentally told himself, and he very much agrees with himself as well.

He didn’t even last a full minute before a hand reached towards him and gripped his hair, pulling chestnut brown hair, and the rest of Callen, towards Jang-i.

“Kid, I didn’t spend 10 years training in the army for nothing.”

Kid named Callen crossed his arms.

“I hoped you’d cooperate, but now that it looks like you’re not, I’m forced to restrain you until you listen.” Jang-i drew his sword and held it against Callen’s exposed neck. Struggling did not help Callen escape his grip, unfortunately.

“Walk with me.” He let go of Callen, though kept the blade pointed at him.

They walked back to where the army was. Jang-i said something that Callen couldn’t hear to another soldier, and the next thing Callen knew, he was tied up. Well, this sucks. At least they still let him watch what was going on.

Heavy sounds of moving armour made their way along the path, and that’s how Callen discovered where the other 20 soldiers went. Each person rolled two barrels towards the army camp, running like they’re just doing a regular everyday task, making it look a lot more easier than it looks.

Sometimes they would get too confident and let their barrels roll a bit longer than they should, and strayed from the path, causing one or two embarrassed soldiers to chase after it like idiots. Hah. I could do better than that. Maybe. Maybe not. OK, who cares?

Even so, whatever impressive feat of strength they did sure as hell did not prepare Callen for the next thing he saw.

He watched as the soldiers put the barrels in front of the giant, maybe as an offering? He shifted his focus to the giant, now that he was in a position to see most of him without being picked up like a flower. Though some part of Callen wished that he’d pick him up now, since it would free him from these ropes binding him on the chair like they intend to exorcise him.

The giant, possibly mistaken by Callen to be a godly being, may have helped Callen to become a bit more religious by displaying the strength he had in that enormous size of his body. Although appearing confused when offered the barrels, which Callen assumed to be wine, he hesitantly grabbed one of the many barrels, of which was barely larger than a teacup compared to him. He continued to watch as he popped it open with just his thumb, and then drank up its contents in mere seconds, before repeating the process with another barrel.

If rolling the barrels were easy, picking one up with a single bare hand was effortless.

Callen thought he should paint that. If he ever gets a chance to, at least.

“It’s strong, huh?” Jang-i popped into his awareness. Callen may have forgotten about him while he was too busy watching more interesting stuff. “Would be nice to have its strength. Would also be great if someone were willing to disclose information that could threaten our kingdom’s sovereignty, but too bad he refuses to.”

Figuring that this block of armoured muscle would probably kick his feet in glee if he gave any sort of response, Callen instead chose to pretend Jang-i was instead a gust of wind.

Callen turned out to be right: gusts of wind did not like being ignored. Jang-i, unhappy about not getting a reaction from Callen, later left for wherever he wanted to go, but not before giving a kick at Callen’s chair, making it wobble before crashing to the ground.

Apparently the giant had forgotten about Callen, because only now did the giant’s gaze fix itself on Callen, wide open- as if his eyes aren’t big enough- in shock to find him tied up to a chair?

Still holding onto a barrel- it would be maybe his sixth at this point, Callen couldn’t tell thanks to the forced change of perspective- the giant raised his other arm, stretching it towards Callen-

“W-WAIT WAIT NO, DON’T GRAB ME WHILE I’M IMMOBILISED, I’M CLAUSTROPHO-”

Too late. Callen is at the mercy of Big Hand once again.

“KILL YOURSELF!” Callen yelled. “Unless you plan to untie me, then don’t.”

Callen could only do nothing and watch as the giant kind of studied him again like a specimen. He was scared. Really fucking scared. He couldn’t save himself if an accident happened, which would be very likely, given the handling of his entire person by another being, who has the potential to make mistakes, and Callen definitely did not trust this thing to save him. His heart was beating a mile a minute, his body covered in cold sweat, and he just noticed he was also shivering from head to toe, despite it being a relatively warm day. The heat from the giant also made him nervous, as it meant having skin-to-skin contact with this behemoth of a being.

The giant, still holding him, continued to finish his barrel of…something, and then continued his focus on him. Again, large fingers snaked up to him, making physical contact with him, and tried to pinch some of the ropes binding Callen, which in this case Callen assumed he intended to break them?

Which was funny, because he couldn’t get a hold of the ropes properly. He could break barrels with ease, but not simple ropes that are as thick as string to him?

Then it was not funny anymore.

He heard the giant mumble something unintelligible to him, before he moved Callen closer to his lips, displaying his teeth-

IS HE GOING TO EAT HIM? Callen panicked. WHY DON’T YOU EAT THE SOLDIERS ON THE GROUND? Callen started wriggling around in his stupid ropes and his stupid chair. Bound or not, his survival instincts started kicking.

But it was futile.

WHY ME? Callen closed his eyes. Better to not see it if he’s going out this way.

SNAP!

Callen slowly opened his eyes. I’m alive?

His ropes were broken, and Callen would say he was liberated, if he weren’t so far above ground.

He looked at the giant, who was happily beaming at him. “Thanks, I guess,” Callen said, begrudgingly. “You can kill yourself again now.” The giant, clearly not understanding a word of what Callen said, just ruffled Callen’s hair with a thumb. BITCH—! Did he really think saving him meant he could play with him as he wants?

One day, one day, Callen swears he will definitely roll a boulder off a cliff just to make it fall on his face. Rocks aren’t enough, he needed boulders.

A sudden quake made Callen jump, and the hand responsible for his life tightened around him. Callen struggled to break free from his impossibly strong grip, too occupied with the harmless activity of wriggling around like a worm to notice that the giant is laying himself down.

Only when he was gently, and somewhat clumsily, set on the giant’s clothed chest that he noticed he was changing positions.

Now, in his new perspective of him, he couldn’t really see the giant’s face anymore. To Callen, he looked more like a living landscape of fabric than person, if the giant is a person at all, and not some god’s messenger to punish him for not being devout enough, or a monster…

The chest moving up and down from breathing, paired with the soft fabric and the texture of human skin, Callen lost his balance before he could even walk around (and possibly run off).

Though, Callen suddenly remembered the soldiers that were supposed to “investigate” this “problem”. Looking around, he saw…idling? No one was doing much other than watching the giant, and Callen himself, to some extent. In fact, they acted more like loitering robbers than soldiers.

…OK.

He turned around.

The giant must have shit alcohol tolerance, because now he is blissfully sleeping on the grass, the gentle wind rustling his long hair.

Callen turned around once more, only to see… 50 guards closing in on the giant, and Callen, like piranhas to bloody fresh meat.

Once again, Callen had nowhere to run.

#g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #giant tiny #sfw g/t #sfw giant/tiny #g/t community

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damn-stark · 9 months ago

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Chapter 30 Two can be as bad as One

Chapter 30 of Sugar

A/N- just kidding one more chapter after this one before the heavy angst!

Warning- Swearing, angst, pregnancy, and talks of miscarriage, FLUFF, cigarettes, spoilers!! long chapter, some sexual suggestions, oh and more Suguru flashbacks ;)

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- Flashback in chapter 244 of the manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Sleep came surprisingly easy, but once the sun peeked through the curtains and shone over your eyes you were wide awake. Not by the light, but by a fear that dawned on you when that sun rose.

Perhaps it was all the other emotions swirling in your mind like a raging storm, but that fear wasn’t present last night. Not until now.

With this battle approaching perhaps there will be tragedies that you can’t avoid, and what if one of those tragedies makes these twins meet the same fate your little Kiyoshi met? You don’t think you could survive that again. You don’t want Choso to go through that if he isn’t one of those horrible tragedies.

But what can you do to avoid it? Not join this fight?

No, this fight is bigger than you, this fight could mean the survival of the human race as you know it. You might not like non-sorcerers, but you aren’t that evil either.

So what can you do but fight?

Plus, these twins are a speculation, they might not be real, so you’re stressing over nothing. You just need to breathe and calm down.

Breathe.

Breathe…

If only someone could tell your face to relax, especially as you hear Choso waking up. You can feel your frown and your drooped eyes expressing your fear and anguish.

“What are you doing over there?” Is the first thing he says. He worries about you.

That is only going to make things harder.

“Just enjoying this view before we have to leave,” you break your silence and keep your side leaning against the doorframe and your eyes stuck on the calm waves ahead.

“Hm”

“Hm,” you mock softly and only peer back at him to flash him a sweet smile before you return your gaze to the water.

Instead of reassuring Choso, he worries over you even more than he already was. He gets off the couch and walks up behind you.

“Good morning,” you finally greet him as he slides his arms around your waist.

“Good morning,” he redirects with a smile you can hear spread on his lips. “What's wrong y/n?”

You won’t escape his overbearing questions and piercing gazes as he tries to uncover the answer to his question himself, so you just…avoid the question by bringing up something else.

“When I died, when I was in purgatory or whatever, I met the child I lost,” you say softly, missing the way he watches the bright sunrays dance on your face; making your eyes burn fiercely, and making your beauty practically glow.

“A boy named Kiyoshi,” you reveal with a growing smile. “That’s what the twins and Suguru named him.”

Choso sees something else thanks to the sunlight basking on your face. He sees your anguish too. A beautiful sadness paints your face.

“Kiyoshi,” Choso repeats softly. “It means pure.”

You grin and peek back at him, catching his radiant brown eyes on you already. “Yes,” you agree with him with a hint of joy. “They picked a perfect name I think.”

Choso hums and presses a kiss on your shoulder before pressing one on your cheek. “What brought this on?” He asks. “Did you dream about him?”

You avert your gaze again and nod softly. “Something like that…” you trail off and genuinely smile this time. “He would’ve been 3 months old sometime in December…do you think you still would’ve loved me as much as you do now if Kiyoshi was alive?” You ask to start hearing his thoughts on children. In your time together that’s a topic you haven’t touched on.

“Of course, I would’ve loved you the same way,” he says without hesitation. “Why would that change anything?”

You shrug. “Because he’d be a baby, and I would’ve had two kids. It’s different.”

“Hm, well I don’t believe it would have changed anything,“ he insists.

You swallow thickly and teeter on the edge of revealing the news just to hear his thoughts. “What about if I had your baby? Would that change anything?”

Choso stiffens and from the corner of your eyes, you see his gaze get lost on you. You keep your eyes on the water ahead, but feel your heart race with anticipation.

“Well…” he stammers and drops his gaze. “No.”

You feign a laugh. “Well no?” You question as it does not sound assuring whatsoever.

“No,” he clarifies now. “It wouldn't change anything. Our lives would be different, it’s a baby, but I wouldn’t love you any less if that’s what you’re asking, but…I don’t even know if I can give you any babies.”

You smile knowingly at that even if you are trying to avoid getting excited.

“Even if I could,” he continues this time more gloomily than before. “With what's happening now. I wouldn’t want to put you through that. It’d be careless.”

Your smile falls and you hum in comprehension.

Careless? Well, maybe he should’ve thought of putting a condom on then.

“But,” he adds and your attention perks up. “If I make it out of this. If I can give you babies….I would love to have a child or children of our own.

You pull away from him and finally face him completely with a small smile you can’t help. “Boy or girl?” You ask as you once again teeter on the edge of revealing the news.

“It wouldn't matter,” he muses. “You said you want more children, and if it makes you happy then I will give them to you. I would give you the world.”

You laugh softly and wrap your arms around his neck. “A palm reader once told me I’d have ten children,” you say to get him flustered.

And it works, his face grows bright red.

“I have six already,” you point out. “So what’s four more?”

Choso chuckles and reminds you of one fact. “I have nine brothers. What’s ten children?”

You grin and rest your head on his shoulder. You can’t say you feel completely better, he did just say it’d be careless to have kids now, but he found a way to make you happy.

“If you don’t want children, then you can say that,” you try to assure him since it doesn’t seem he thought about what he really wants. Just about what would make you happy. “You don’t have to want what I want. You’re your own person, you can decide if it’s something you want or not. It’s a big life decision, you know?”

Choso stays quiet for a moment, he makes sure to return your embrace by wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head before he shares his thoughts. “I have brothers y/n. I’m the oldest. It’s not the same as being their actual father, but their father never cared for them. I was the only person they had, I was their parental figure. Me saying I’m not open to having children would be like rejecting a part of myself…at least it feels that way to me. Besides, knowing that I get to make something so special with you, knowing that you would be my children’s mother would be an honor.”

Happy tears fill your eyes, but you don’t let them fall, you just express your bliss by tightening your embrace and snuggling your face in the crook of his neck.

Albeit you have yet to actually tell him you might be expecting his twins.

Let's see how that goes.

“We should go join the others,” you interject after a few minutes. “I hear distant commotion.”

You pull away from him and walk over to put your slippers on to walk out. Albeit you notice a red rag on the side table and a bright idea lights over your head, making you smirk and quickly snatch the rag from the tabletop.

“Cho,” you call out in a sing-song voice and spin around with a wide mischievous grin. “Come here.”

Without a hint of suspicion as to what was wrong with you, Choso approaches you with a quirked brow. “Hm?”

You giggle and hastily wrap the rag around his head to fit it like a bandana. And when it fits perfectly over his long hair you grab your phone and steal a picture of him.

“What?” He finally asks.

You don’t clue him in yet that he looks like your pirate husband Will Turner with his dark hair down over his neck, and a bandana around his head. He’ll probably get all jealous and grumpy when you do, so first you grab his hand and take him outside with you to take a picture of him with the ocean in the back.

“I got to say I’m turned on,” you reveal and giggle as you keep taking more pictures of Choso, seeing his eyebrows progressively furrow together throughout the montage of pictures. “You're looking really sexy. Even better than my pirate husband. I would say you could replace him, but no one can dethrone Will Turner.”

“What are you talking about?” Choso asks with annoyance and finally breaks away from his spot.

“How would you feel about role-playing?” You ask as you put your phone down.

Suguru and you would do it, he even dressed like Legolas one time when you were teenagers. It was the hottest thing ever.

“Is this about that fictional character you and Tsukumo fawned over on the first movie night with Tengen?” Choso finally catches on.

“Yes?”

Choso scoffs and rolls his eyes before he snatches the rag off his head.

“You look sexy,” you insist with a goofy smile. “You kind of look like him.”

You may be delusional about that but hey! A girl can dream.

“I’m going inside,” he grumbles and trudges his feet through the sand.

“Choso!” You laugh and run after him to throw your arms around him and trudge with him. “Come on baby, it’s just a fictional character. I love you more. I mean I have a picture of you in my locket. He can’t say that.”

Choso peers over and you catch a smile tugging on his face. You want to add something else, but then the back door opens and Miwa, the student with blue hair and funny bangs comes out with a nervous look on her face.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” she interjects as she stops on the edge of the porch, and bows her head. “But Miss Shoko and Utahime said it’s time for breakfast duty.”

“Oh right,” you sigh and pull away from Choso to fall by his side before you run over to the porch before you can be teamed on by Utahime and Shoko. “Thank you, Miwa.”

“Yes,” she exclaims nervously. “That's me.”

You giggle, and as you’re walking to the door she blurts out. “Would you mind if we took a picture? I just love your model work, and you’re a Gojo, so you’re a big deal. So would you mind if we took a picture?”

You stop in your tracks and when you turn to face her with a smile you ease some of those nerves she had as she thought you’d be upset.

“I would love to take a picture,” you assure her worry, causing her to finally smile and hurry to your side to take a picture with you.

“Wow,” she muses and pulls her phone down to admire the picture. “You look incredible and it’s still so early in the morning.”

You scoff softly. “You’re sweet. And you look incredible too, I love your bangs. They’re cool.” You smile at her before you turn away and walk inside with your boyfriend towing behind you. The moment he closes the door you hear Miwa’s muffled cheer and you can’t help but laugh softly.

“Y/N,” Choso calls, making you stop in your tracks and face him with curiosity.

“Hm?”

“I’ll be over there in a minute alright?” He lets you know when unknowingly to you, he catches your brother in the distance; one of the main reasons why he thinks you were upset last night.

“Okay,” you say back and think nothing of it. “And before you come, could you tell Satori to get ready for breakfast? Knowing her she should be in the room watching TV or playing.”

He nods to assure you before he closes the gap left between you to press a kiss on your forehead that you don’t mind.

“How sweet,” you coo and lean in to press a kiss on his cheek and then a quick peck on his smiling lips before you walk off and he stays where he is.

When you reach the door you look at him over your shoulder and flash him a smile. The moment you disappear into the room he makes a beeline towards your brother without any fear.

Satoru might be this intimidating strong sorcerer and your older brother, but Choso doesn’t like that it’s your older brother who makes you cry. So as of now all Satoru is to Choso is nothing but a person he needs to scold.

“Gojo,” Choso greets stiffly, and catches Satoru by surprise only because he didn’t expect Choso to talk to him. “I need to talk to you.”

As much as Satoru is tempted to walk off, he stays where he is out of curiosity and entertains your boyfriend. “All right go ahead then.”

Choso draws out a deep breath and just as Satoru thinks Choso will back down out of intimidation, he actually interjects in a louder voice than usual. “I don’t know how your dynamic is with y/n. And I understand you’re her older brother. You’re the only sibling she has, but that doesn’t mean anything when I catch her crying because of you.”

Oh…this reminds Satoru of a similar conversation he had with Suguru. And neither man sounded any nicer. However, Satoru does notice that Choso has more of a huskier voice, it sounds a bit more threatening.

“You’re supposed to protect her, make her feel safe, not sad,” Choso continues and stares deep into Satoru’s soul. “From what she’s told me, fighting isn’t uncommon or necessarily a bad thing for you and her, but again, you’re her older brother. Act like it.”

Satoru scoffs and leans away from the balcony in the hall to look at Choso with a pointed look. “So what is this a heart-to-heart brother thing?” He snickers.

Choso does not find any of this funny though. How can he?

“No,” he counters seriously. “This is me talking to you as y/n’s partner. Her boyfriend. Stop making her cry.”

Satoru’s amused smile falls and his eyebrows slowly ease from their pinched hold as he remembers those words coming from someone else.

“Look,” he adds with a bit of kindness. “She loves you. She respects you—”

“No,” Satoru cuts him off and furrows his eyebrows again as he grows bothered by the similarity of what’s going on. “My sister used to be extraordinarily good. She was one of those people with a heart of gold, but life has been mean to her, it’s decided to hurt her in more ways than one. Yet even after all this change she still loves too easily. That’s what I’m trying to protect, she’s already been hurt enough as it is in this past month alone. I don’t want to see her go through more of that again.”

As threatening as Satoru is trying to be, Choso actually finds this refreshing. He didn’t need proof of Satoru’s love for you, but he is proud that he is putting up his guard.

“And if it’s you that hurts her, trust me it won’t matter if she hates me for the rest of her life, I will take care of you, understand?” Satoru stands tall to threaten Choso and try to intimidate him.

“I understand and I wouldn't want it any other way,” Choso assures him, making Satoru blink in confusion and finding himself speechless. So he just hums and turns away from the man to try and continue getting lost in thought. However, he needs to set one record straight.

“Oh and just so you know, once my sister's respect is lost for someone it’s lost forever, she wasn’t like that, but life made her guarded. I’m somehow the exception, but no matter what, it’s doubtful she will make that exception for you. Just so you know.” He smirks, and Choso offers him a faint smile.

“You’re the exception,” Choso lets him know from what he knows. “Because you’re her brother, and she loves you.”

Satoru glances over at Choso with surprise, even though what he said isn’t something that should surprise him.

“Oh,” Satoru adds without thinking before Choso can walk off. “And congratulations, by the way, I guess.”

Choso's eyes immediately narrow and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “For what?” He asks cluelessly as he crosses his arms over his chest, missing the way Satoru’s eyes widen with horror as he realizes that you haven’t told Choso about what you might be expecting.

“About…” Satoru quickly comes up with something. “Having a brother like Itadori. He’s a good guy.”

That was a good save he thinks to himself.

It seems that Choso believes him too because he doesn’t look at him with suspicion.

“Oh, thank you,” Choso says politely before he offers Satoru a stiff smile and walks away, causing Satoru to fall into that memory about Suguru in this same situation.

It was so long ago now. And he only wishes that he hadn’t been so hostile towards your relationship with his best friend.

——

*SATORU P.O.V 12 YEARS AGO*

“Satoru!”

He stops in his tracks and when he looks over his shoulder he sees Suguru trying to catch up to him.

“Suguru,” he greets with a bright grin.

However, he notices right away Suguru doesn’t reflect the same upbeat demeanor.

“We need to talk,” Suguru lets him know the moment he falls by Satoru’s side.

“Oh,” he rolls out teasingly. “What about? Am I in trouble? Did my sister snitch on me?”

Suguru’s gaze narrows, letting Satoru know he hit the spot. “Tsk, I didn’t do anything to her, she’s just a crybaby.”

Suguru sighs, so Satoru nudges his arm as a form of telling him to relax.

“This is not a game Satoru,” Suguru argues and grabs his arm to stop him from walking so he can hear him better. “I’m being serious. I’m coming to you as her boyfriend and your friend.”

Satoru scoffs and rolls his eyes.

And somehow Suguru seems to know what Satoru just did behind his dark shades. “Don’t,” Suguru scolds Satoru. “I’m being serious. I know you don’t like the idea of y/n and me, but you have to deal with it because I love her.”

So soon? Satoru wonders to himself. It’s only been two months since you got together.

“…and it’s because I love her that I’m telling you this nicely,” Suguru continues. “Stop making her cry, stop getting her upset over our relationship, and try to be understanding for her. For your sister.”

What could Satoru tell him? That all he’s doing is looking out for the people he loves the most? That he doesn’t want either of you getting hurt if something happens?

If he could he would. But since he can’t he just stays quiet and bothered.

“Do you understand?” Suguru probes Satoru as he further narrows his eyes on his friend. “Be her brother and try to be understanding for her sake because you may not know it, but she cares about what you think.”

Satoru can’t argue about that, but he can’t change from one second to the next. He still needs time. He also can’t say why he's so cautious so he stays quiet about all of it. He just assures Suguru with a little white lie. “All right. All right. Relax.”

Suguru lets his gaze linger to try and read him, but he doesn’t see anything suspicious so he chooses to trust Satoru.

“Thank you, my friend,” Suguru offers Satoru sweetly. “It means a lot to me and I know it will mean a lot to y/n.”

Satoru scoffs and smirks. “You mean your darling y/n?” Satoru teases him, making Suguru roll his eyes and continue down the path Satoru was just taking with a stifled laugh.

——

*A COUPLE DAYS LATER*

“You’re all pretty much masters with your own cursed energy and cursed technique, but one thing you must know is that like Yin and Yang, chaos and order are one in the same. You can’t have one without the other. And sure this may not sound pretty relevant, but it is. With the way I was being taught at school I could’ve lost myself in my chaos, and as you all know that wouldn’t be pretty,” you tell your students what they know, and the new students Utahime assigned to you what they have yet to hear. A truth hidden because of where they were taught. Utahime probably won’t like it, but you’re teaching them so who cares?

“They wanted me to follow order,” you continue. “But thanks to Yuki, my simple fire didn’t explode into a massive wildfire with an outburst. She taught me balance, how to navigate between chaos and order.”

“How exactly do you do that?” Itadori asks you.

You sigh and smile. “Admit to yourself that you are dangerous. That you can do damage, but remember that only you can control your technique. Remind yourself that as organized as you can be there will always be a bump in the road, but there’s always a way around it. Just breathe, and if you're in a crucial situation and need to think on your feet, quickly scan your surroundings, don’t get stuck in that dark tunnel.”

The students look at you confused since all you’re doing is talking so you sigh and explain it in simpler terms.

“All right, imagine this,” you rework yourself. “Your cursed energy is a rampant creak, the water is spreading everywhere, it’s out of control. It may feel hopeless, but you can redirect that rampant creak by putting rocks around it and making it flow chaotically in the path you choose. Balance between the two. Get it?”

“Ah!” Itadori exclaims and snaps his fingers. “I get it now.”

“Salmon,” Inumaki interjects.

“Fear is your own worst enemy, it will push you towards chaos,” you add one more thing. “Don’t let it control you, but also remember that fear is also normal.”

“Balance,” Itadori cuts in, making you smile.

“Exactly.”

“Maybe you should reconsider teaching at the school,” Okkotsu interjects, making your smile falter. “It seems you’re the order Gojo needs in his own teachings.”

You can’t help but laugh softly at that comment, knowing your brother is probably too laid back with his classes since it’s the opposite of what the higher-ups want him to be.

“You know what?” Hakari cuts in lazily since this is stuff he’s already heard before. “You’re gonna need some pretty big rocks to redirect that stream.”

You shoot him a pointed look and correct him. “Creak and don’t you have something to do? Both of you,” you point out Kirara as well.

“We’re done,” they defend the both of them.

You raise a quizzical brow and hum. “Uhuh.”

Just as you’re about to send them to do more laps around the field Shoko finally approaches you, letting you know she’s finally ready to accompany you to the clinic since she said she cannot check on you because she doesn’t have such equipment.

Some doctor. Tsk.

Whatever.

“Uh, all right class��or lesson dismissed, whatever,” you quickly throw out at the students and spin on your heels to meet Shoko halfway so no one can be nosy.

Alas of course your two favorite students poke around without a fault.

“Where are you going master?” Kirara is the one who cuts in.

You reach Shoko and grab her arm before you look over your shoulder. “Errands,” you simply say. “We’re running errands.”

“Oh?” Hakari joins Kirara. “Can we go? It’s boring here and I’m feeling some boba. Or something.”

You furrow your eyebrows and immediately retort. “There’s a reason why my daughter didn’t accompany me today because the errands I need to run are between Shoko and me—”

“Kashimo, do you want to come along?” Kirara completely ignores you and invites Kashimo?

“Sure,” said man gives in near you, catching you off guard since you didn’t know he was even nearby.

“What the hell?” You hiss and grab at your chest when you see that he’s actually very close to Shoko and you.

“Beats staying here,” Kashimo adds and passes you a glare for getting scared, so you mutter to him under your breath.

“Why don’t you shove that stick up your ass.”

“I heard that, and it’s a staff,” he says.

You shoot him a feigned smile and nod stiffly. “Yeah good. And it’s a staff,” you mock him quite spitefully, causing his eye to twitch. Not for the way you said it, but because you just mocked him.

“I’ll go too then,” Choso now also tags along since Kashimo was coming apparently. “Yuji, you've been stuck here too long, come.”

For fucks sake.

How can you argue with all of them now though?

“Whatever,” you grumble and turn to start walking away with the only person you invited. “Come on then.”

“I told you we should’ve let Satoru and Ijichi give us a ride,” Shoko whispers to you.

You slide your eyes to her and scoff. “As if I would’ve been in a car with my brother. I’m still mad at him.”

“Yeah, he told me. He went on and on about how it’s not fair that you’re mad at him, but then when he was done with his rant he said he understood why you would be.”

You huff. “Then why doesn’t he leave me alone? He keeps spamming my phone. He even sent me a stupid moving photo of a cute cat saying sorry.”

“A gif?” Shoko says judgingly.

You mutter. “Yeah. Whatever. As if that would take away what he said. It’s just…” you trail off since what you were about to rant about led to your second child you haven’t told her about, and with everyone else towing behind you it just doesn’t feel right to spill your secrets now either, so you just bite your tongue and wallow in your frustration.

“…annoying,” you say instead.

“Well you’ll prove him wrong today,” Shoko tries to cheer you up.

And it sort of works. “Yeah,” you whisper and smile faintly.

However, Kashimo interrupts. “Hey, girl Gojo.”

That name again?

“What?” You respond with little patience.

“I have a question,” he goes on without caring about what you’re feeling. “If you hate non-sorcerer's why work among them?”

Your frustration fades and you look back at him with a sly smirk. “One, modeling is something I wanted to do, so I just went for it. And two, to have a foot in both worlds. Being in control of my narrative amongst non-sorcerers. Think about it this way,” you get excited and turn around to walk backwards and face him. “In our world, I am “The fallen sorcerer”, “a devil”, but still powerful, whatever, but in the general public I am Japan’s sweetheart model. There’s nothing they wouldn't do for me, making it the perfect wedge for control on both sides.”

Kashimo’s hardened look fades away and he looks quite…surprised by your logic.

“Hm, well, I can’t say it’s stupid,” he says in a kinder tone, so you take it as a compliment.

“Thanks.” You flash him a smug smile.

“You should've been a politician,” Shoko remarks. “Then you really would have control.”

You turn back around, missing the way Choso’s gaze turns to a glare born from growing jealousy.

“You know, I was,” you tell Shoko. “But it was too much work. I didn’t have the time or energy for that.”

“Y/N?” Choso tries to cut in now as he makes his way to your side to prevent someone else from filling it. “I know you said your errand was just between you and Ieiri but are you sure you don’t need me?”

Your heart skips a beat out of panic and you quickly shake your head. “No, we’re fine,” you try to assure him. “Just…take care of the children. Make sure they don’t get into trouble. We shouldn’t take long.” You offer him a smile that hides how nervous you are, but he thankfully doesn’t see through it.

Luckily he doesn’t see through your nonchalant facade at all. You might be dying inside because of how nervous you are to know if you are expecting twins or not, but Choso thankfully doesn't read through you like he tends to do. Albeit when you arrive close to where the clinic is he does attempt to tag along again, but you remind him it’s just something Shoko and you can do, so he leaves you be and your students leave you be too.

“Thank you for coming,” You remind Shoko as you wait in the clinic’s waiting room for you to be called. “My nerves are killing me.”

“Yeah no problem,” she says. “I’m sorry I couldn't help you. I know how you feel about non-sorcerers, so sorry.”

You shrug her off. “On this occasion, I don’t mind.”

“Did you come to a public clinic Iike this one with Suguru?” She can’t help but ask. “I mean I know he was a much bigger hater than you.”

You laugh softly and nod. “Yeah, we did come to one like this. Albeit one close to our beach house, but yeah. When it came to my appointments he never minded. And it was the same when we needed to take baby Satori to her doctor appointments.” You smile in admiration at a distant memory.

“Makes you wish you told your boyfriend, huh?” Shoko teases you.

“Well,” you respond and glance at her. “No actually. I know him, he would’ve gotten too worked up. If it’s nothing then he would’ve just gotten sad. And if it is something then…Pft,” you blow out air as you feel your heart race. “He said it would be careless.” You mumble, making Shoko laugh.

“That’s why you wear protection,” she keeps teasing you. “Do you have something against it or what? Because this reminds me of the time you and Suguru were freaking out.”

You pout and scoff. “That time was a slip-up,” you grumble. “The condom broke. We didn’t want a baby then, and Satoru would’ve killed us both.”

Shoko chuckles. “And now?”

“Now,” you muse with a smile. “Well it’s not planned, but we just don't use them. So yeah I guess it is our fault.”

“Gojo?” The nurse calling out for you startles you, causing you to snap your head over and see her waiting by the door.

“It’s going to be okay,” Shoko says sweetly. “They’re babies. Don’t let Satoru get in your head, he’s just being overprotective.”

Yeah. But it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Regardless, Shoko and you follow the nurse into a private room. You follow every direction she gives you, and when it comes to peeing in a cup to take those strip tests, both tests come out positive.

You’re having babies…you’re having babies with Choso…

Which is very crazy since it’s only been a month since you’ve been together, and met! But you’re still over the moon.

Yet before you can cry happy tears you still are nervous about one thing that an ultrasound can prove.

“Now, I should warn you so you don’t panic,” the doctor says as she applies a cold gel to your belly. “Considering how early your pregnancy is, there won’t be a heartbeat nor a fetus, but don’t be alarmed, it's normal. Your baby is forming. When you come back in a couple weeks then you’ll be able to see a fetus.”

You nod in comprehension and nervously smile at Shoko. As the doctor reaches her little wand over your hand flies over to take Shoko’s, and she immediately assures you by squeezing your hand.

“Okay,” the doctor whispers and presses the wand on your belly, letting you see pitch darkness at first. She then moves her wand a couple of inches down and you gasp with surprise when the news is once again positive.

“Look at that,” the doctor says enthusiastically as she points to the two Gestational sacs inside you. “You’re having twins. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Shoko cuts in surprisingly, making you smirk, and causing the doctor to nervously side-eye you both.

“And look at that,” the doctor points to two small little balls inside the sac. “The yolk sacs are formed, that’s a protective covering that contains amniotic fluid and surrounds your developing babies.”

“And,” you make sure to interject. “Everything seems normal? Healthy?”

The doctor sighs. “Well they aren’t big enough to see yet, but so far everything that should be there is there. Don’t worry ma’am, everything is just fine.”

You smile happily, and even if you can’t say that’s a confirmation that Satoru’s fear didn't come to fruition, you still see this as a gift nevertheless. You’re choosing to believe that everything is fine and your babies aren’t some kind of half-curse, half-human hybrid that can kill you. To you they’re babies. Perfect little human babies.

Now that it’s confirmed you are pregnant though, you have to tell Choso. And you have to admit you’re nervous as well as excited. Mostly nervous now though.

“As of now,” the doctor says. “With the babies in this early stage avoid any strenuous activities, no drinking or smoking, and no raw and undercooked foods. I will send you home with paperwork that lists all you can and can’t do, and the prenatal vitamins that are recommended.”

You wipe the gel off your stomach and sit up with a grin. “Don’t worry my wife here is a doctor too, she’ll keep an eye out on me.” You torture the doctor some more, causing her to share an awkward silence before she nods stiffly as she just hums.

“Uhuh. Good, good. I will get you a copy of your ultrasound and your paperwork. Before you leave, make an appointment for your next check-up. We’ll be able to see the fetuses then.”

You nod as you stifle your laugh. You and Shoko can barely hold it in. The receptionist probably thought you both looked crazy because of the way you were holding in your laughs, and it was not until you were outside that you let it all out.

“You know what? I used to do that with Kento, but he never followed along, you though,” you say between laughs. “You freaked her out.”

“She could’ve said congratulations,” Shoko points out. “But she just stared. And she kept staring at me. You need a different doctor.”

You take your sunglasses off and lower the scarf you had wrapped around your head to your neck. “I bet she’ll tell Choso congratulations.” You point out

“She’d let out a sigh of relief,” she says.

You snort and nod. “Oh well, it was nice knowing her. Now,” you change the subject. “Let me text them to see where they are.”

You to Choso: We’re done with our errand, where are you?

Not too much later a response from Choso comes in.

Choso: They wanted to get crepes, but we’ll meet you halfway.

You: oh crepes? I’ll meet you there.

You smile and watch the little dots bouncing as Choso takes his time to type. Bless his heart.

Once you do get his response though you can’t help but grin.

Choso: I thought you’d want some so I got you one don’t worry.

You: :) fantastic we’ll meet you halfway then. Thank you.

Choso: Of course. I love you.

Once you end up running into them your anxiety subsides for now and you rush over to Choso to embrace him.

“Is everything okay?” He makes sure to ask first and foremost.

You offer him an assuring smile and nod. “Yeah, of course. Just some work stuff.”

Choso doesn’t have any reason to suspect you so he doesn’t raise any questions, he just smiles back before he scoops up some of the fruit in the crepe and feeds it to you like a loving boyfriend.

“Mhmm strawberry crepe, my favorite. How did you know?”

Choso shrugs. “I just guessed,” he plays along with you.

You both laugh and he then feeds you more strawberries, getting a weird look from Kashimo, but you ignore him and just take your turn to feed Choso a piece of crepe.

“We should probably head back,” Shoko interjects. “We have that meeting soon.”

You would say it’s annoying, but it gives you time to think of and play out what to tell Choso.

——

*LATER*

“…For Kenjaku we have to open up a chance with Takaba and strike the final blow with Okkotsu and Y/N,” Kusakabe surprisingly leads the meeting from the edge of the stage. “But this requires Okkotsu and Y/N to return quickly, so I’m seriously counting on the both of you.”

“Well if Takaba can’t distract Kenjaku then we’ll have to fight him, and I fought him already, he’s tactical and annoying. If we don’t return quickly it’s because we’re fighting him,” you let them know just in case since you can’t be too confident when dealing with strong opponents.

“And if you do, you call me,” Choso adds and turns his head to look at you. “I can be of some support with Sukuna, but I doubt I have any chance of killing him. If something happens with Kenjaku I’ll have a better chance at killing him.”

You hum and nod but still have the need to add one thing. “Well Okkotsu has killed that body before, I doubt we’ll have much of a struggle, but all right.”

An awkward silence grows after that comment, so Kusakabe goes on. “As for the problem of Sukuna, even though it’s an all-out battle. We still have to decide who will participate.”

All-out battle and deciding who will fight doesn’t make sense.

“Are these guys idiots?” You hear Kashimo ask Hakari without any shame. “It’s an all-out battle, so it’s gonna be all of us and I’ll go first.”

“It seems Kusakabe fear taints his definition of all-out battle, Kashimo, so don’t pay him any mind,” you interject with a sly smirk. “Why are you even here, Kusakabe? I thought you would’ve ran for the hills already.”

Kashimo snorts and Kusakabe glares at you, but responds nevertheless to defend himself. “Well, I don’t feel like dying just yet, so I’ll do what I can.”

You hum and he goes on.

“Anyway, what's the point of putting someone on the front line who can’t even make an opening and who has a 100% possibility of getting killed instantly? Like Miwa for example.”

Damn. That’s kind of funny.

“Not only does she lack power, but she made a vow to herself “I will not use a sword” again in Shibuya—”

“But that cut was also defended with bare hands,” Miwa cuts in to defend herself, letting you think that the gods must have been working against her that day because how the hell does a vow like that fail?

Maybe it’s because it was stupid to make a vow like the one she did in the first place.

You would like to say it was a desperate move, but she had no business being in that field in the first place. So it was pretty stupid.

“The extreme bond with Master Tengen and all the people in Japan is probably deniable if you are a sorcerer,” Kusakabe surprises you by continuing. “Even if Sukuna and Kenjaku win by fusing with a monster able to destroy the world, that doesn’t mean we won't be able to survive. Well, if you are a player, you will be killed if Kenjaku survives. But we can stay alive for several days. If there’s only Sukuna left, it could be even more.”

Yes because living on in fear and weak is so much better than being dead.

No matter what condition you’re in, you'd rather die than have to live on the rest of your days hiding from Sukuna.

“I'm sorry but I'm out, it looks like I can't even help,” Kamo interjects as he stands up to make himself seen by everyone. “I want to take care of my family as much as I can,” he explains. “I’m thinking of escaping abroad with my family. Seriously.”

You look over at the young man and assure him, considering Miguel and Larue have agreed to take Satori and the rest of your community aboard to escape the horrors that could happen in Japan if you end up losing it all—“It’s okay, Kamo. Don’t worry about it, it's not a public execution, you don’t need to declare it. Do what you think is best for yourself and your family.”

He looks over at you and nods in appreciation, letting you smile faintly in return.

“What would be actually extraordinary is if you are able to help in battle,” Kusakabe mutters.

“Kamo helped me a lot,” Itadori adds. “Since he taught me many things because Choso is bad at teaching.”

You can’t help but smile and see Choso look at his brother completely stunned.

“I see,” Kamo says.

Choso’s head drops and a frown tugs on his lips, causing you to rub his back to comfort him after his brother's comment.

“People who have reversed cursed technique. Those who are willing to die or would like to die can fight, everyone else is out or here just for support.” Kusakabe announces, causing Higuruma to follow with a comment.

“I’m going after Kashimo. I can seize Sukuna’s cursed technique.”

“You’re provoking me by assuming I’m going to lose,” Kashimo sneers, making you snicker as you lay your head on your boyfriend's shoulder.

“Just in case! Just in case,” Hakari tries to calm him down. “I actually thank you for letting Gojo go first.”

“I still can’t accept it!”

“If the death penalty is confirmed, I can fight Sukuna with the executioner's sword,” Higuruma ignores Kashimo’s tantrum.

“A one-hit killing sword,” Kusakabe muses. “That’s really useful, but aren't seizure and death penalty uncertain?”

“It will depend on what offenses the judge raises for Sukuna’s crimes then it’s something you can’t choose,” Itadori explains for Higuruma, making him agree.

“That’s right.”

“I exchanged places with Sukuna three times; in high school, in the juvenile detention center, and in Shibuya,” Itadori adds.

Why can’t this ever be easy? Even with new and different techniques, this is all so difficult. Sometimes you even wish you could sleep through it all and wake up when it’s all over.

“On those occasions,” Itadori goes on, bringing up all things in hopes something will lead to an advantage. “Many people died in Shibuya and at the Juvenile detention center. He is doing all these crazy things he wants after migrating with Fushiguro, even for the battle in Shinjuku right now. The details for prosecution will be narrowed down, then can't we point out a crime that has a high probability to get a judgment with the death penalty?”

“To be honest,” Higuruma sighs. “It will be difficult.”

You sigh now with disappointment. As Choso hears you he wraps his arm around your waist and when he presses his fingers on your side you squirm as you fear he will somehow feel the babies that are probably as big as poppy seeds at the moment.

And that gains his attention because he glances over at you and without saying a thing, with his eyes alone he asks if you’re okay. So you just answer him by pressing yourself closer to him, and reassuring yourself that he can’t feel a thing.

Hopefully.

What if he can? What if with his blood manipulation technique, he can sense them like how he has his connection with his brothers?

But he would’ve said something. Duh…

Damn, you’re just nervous.

“Summarizing the information about Sukuna,” you continue listening to Higuruma. “The actions Sukuna took with the high school Itadori was in are; harming Itadori when he took over his body. And the attempted murder of Satoru Gojo. At the Juvenile Detention Center; complete assassination against Itadori, although, this could be seen as an attempt since Itadori has come back to life. And attempted assassination of Megumi Fushiguro. In Shibuya; total assassination against two female students who were cursed technique users…”

He could’ve said their names, Nanako, and Mimiko. Sukuna killed Nanako and Mimiko.

Why can’t that be enough to get him the death penalty? Why can’t leaving you without your daughters be enough to punish that monster?

They had their lives ahead of them, you still needed to watch them reach so many other milestones. But now you will never get to, and yes people could say they’re in a better place. You have tried to tell yourself that, but, a better place would be here with their hearts still beating and them by your side. A better place would be where they’re alive and not dead at such a young age.

So no they’re not in a better place. And you can’t—you’re trying to stay strong, but you haven’t been able to really move on from their deaths.

However, instead of crying inside like you desperately want to, you pull away from Choso but whisper in his ear so he doesn’t worry. “I’m going on outside.”

Choso gets ready to follow you with concern filling his pretty brown eyes, but you grab his arm and reassure him. “It’s fine. Stay.”

He’s hesitant, but when you leave he doesn’t follow. He lets you go outside alone where you fight your tears. You would like to say you fight your tears to return inside, but you can’t say you’re missing much anymore. All that law stuff is something Higuruma will solve since he’s the lawyer. Plus it’s not like you’ll be stuck in his domain when he tries to give Sukuna the sentence, hopefully, you’ll be recuperating Suguru’s body from that demon using it.

Thus you stay outside and watch the thick sad and gray clouds reigning over the once-blue sky.

If the twins were here they’d be…content. Yes, that’s the word, content because they’d be able to be friends with other sorcerers their own age. They’d be able to fight as well and be filled with motivation to get Suguru’s body back. They’d also be concerned about you if they found out about the twins you’re having. Most importantly they’d be alive with you…

You draw out a deep breath at that final thought and drop your head. And rather than standing there in silence, and since you can’t smoke anymore, you gather up the humidity that’s forming because of the approaching rain, and collect all the water in an orb in your hand. Lastly, you form that orb of water into a bunny on your palm.

You don’t make it move, or anything, you just watch it and think of the twins, the ones you lost and the ones growing inside you.

It’s nothing particular anymore, you just simply think of them. Time seems irrelevant as you’re lost in your mind. Which is why you don't hear the door open behind you until from the corner of your eye you catch the bright cyan hair of Kashimo in the distance.

No one else is with him, it’s just him. And when you glance over at him he still looks annoyed, so as to not sit in this silence, you drop the bunny made of water and break the silence. “You know what I can’t seem to figure out about you?”

Kashimo keeps his distance, but you catch his gaze drift towards you, so you go on.

“…Why you decided to help and be a part of the team? I mean I know you have this stupid suicide dream to fight Sukuna, but you could’ve done that without following Kinji.”

Kashimo stays quiet like you assumed, so you continue with an answer to your own curious question. “Unless you don’t want to be alone.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he finally responds harshly, making you laugh softly.

“But I guess that’s what differentiates you from Sukuna. Your humanity. Don’t worry I don’t like being alone either. Seeking human companionship is normal—”

“Don’t patronize me, I'm not one of your students,” he cuts you off, but you can’t sense his typical annoyance.

“Were you alone back then? 1000 years ago?” You ask.

“400 years ago,” he corrects you, making your lips tug to a teasing smile—“and why do you care?”

You ignore him trying to deflect you because you know it’s more of a shield more than anything. He would’ve sounded angry if he was really trying to make you stop talking, and he doesn’t sound it at all.

“I guess no matter how much time passes, or how much we’ve lived, can we actually get over the fear of being alone,” you go on in a softer voice. “Trust me…I’ve tried, the life we live doesn’t really guarantee a life filled with loved ones, they either die or leave in some way or the other.”

Kashimo doesn’t snap back with a nasty remark this time, he stays quiet, but you notice his gaze on you, and out of pure curiosity you lift your eyes off the ground and meet his gaze.

You think he’ll look away at that instant, but he holds your gaze for a lingering second and then looks away, making you wonder what it was that went on behind his colored eyes. You would ask since it’s just the two of you outside as of now, but you keep quiet and continue losing your gaze on the ground.

Besides, it's not like he would divulge that he was thinking about his sister. A sister that you reminded him of at this moment. A sister who never seemed to be offended by the way he talked back, a sister who was a mother too just like you. She was kind, and beautiful, and also never let anyone shut her up. The only thing that was wrong with her was that she died young.

If he did want to share something he’d tell you all that, but oh well.

“In any case,” you’re the one that keeps talking. “I hope you do kill Sukuna, and live of course. It'll leave us all with a lot less to do.” You snicker.

Kashimo scoffs and makes no comment on that matter, instead, he glances at the door ahead and makes a comment about something else. “Are you sure your boyfriend won’t come out and bite me if he sees us talking? He looks like he bites.”

You snort and shake your head. “No, Choso won’t come attack you. He might try to glare at you to death, but no. Besides you’re not really talking. I’m talking.”

“What am I doing now?” He remarks.

You roll your eyes over to him and scoff in annoyance, but you still find the energy to walk away from your spot to approach him with more curiosity. As mean as he is, you still find him interesting.

“So it’s true you can only use your cursed technique once?” You add on.

Kashimo follows you with his eyes as you get near him and instead of answering he deflects. “Is it true you’ve murdered hundreds?”

He asks as if that’s supposed to somehow tear you down, but once again, it doesn’t. “Yes,” you answer without shame. “Why? Do you think it’s a bad thing?”

He scoffs. “No. The way others talk about your crimes makes it seem like you’re some kind of demon.”

You fall next to him and look at him with a questioning look. “Do I live up to the stories? Or have I disappointed you?”

Without a moment to think about it, he responds right away. “From what I've seen I can't say you’re a complete disappointment, but there’s a difference isn’t there? I have yet to see you in tune with this killer I’ve heard so much about.”

Your amused smile slowly falls and you quickly shake your head and correct him. “Well, you’ll never see her. I’m not that person anymore.”

Kashimo raises his chin and hums while he studies you, deciding whether to judge you or not.

“Unless,” you roll out with some shame. “Non-sorcerers give me a reason that is.”

Kashimo scoffs with nonchalance this time, deciding that he likes your response.

“I really hope you don’t give me a reason to turn against you,” you interject in a threatening voice now, and with your eyes narrowed to a dark fierce glare you use when facing non-sorcerers—“Kinji and Kirara trust you. If I find out you betrayed them or anyone else in some way, I won’t be afraid to fight you. Non-sorcerers aren’t the only people I’ve killed.”

Kashimo holds your gaze for a moment without any kind of intimidation and in silence until finally he chuckles. “Don’t tempt me,” he teases.

You groan. “You’re sick.”

The doors open and out comes those who had stayed along in the meeting. Albeit when Kirara and Hakari walk out, the door closes behind them and Choso, Itadori, Kurusu, Maki, and Okkotsu are the only ones who don’t follow behind them.

“What are you two doing?” Hakari probes as he sees Kashimo and you standing by each other.

You smirk. “Bonding,” you input as a joke mostly. Even though it’s kind of true.

“Hardly,” Kashimo reacts harshly just like you thought.

“Are you okay?” Shoko cuts in as she breaks away from Mei-Mei with an unlit cigarette in her hand.

“Yeah,” you assure her and shoot her cigarette a pointed look before you snap it to her since you can’t really be around that anymore.

Shoko immediately sees what she’s about to do and discreetly puts her cigarette back.

“I’m all better now,” you add sweetly when she huddles around you with your two other students.

“Has your brother messaged you?” Shoko asks out of curiosity since he’s been hellbent on apologizing ever since he said those mean words at the beach.

“He hasn’t stopped,” you grumble and show her the messages you have on your screen of Satoru trying to make small talk when he’s supposed to be busy.

“Well you can’t blame him for trying,” Shoko tries to play a part in both sides.

“Well you can’t take away what he said either,” you counter in annoyance.

“What did Gojo say?” Hakari snoops.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you quip, making Kirara push your buttons.

“He would like to know actually.”

You frown at them and scoff before you retort. “Well, tough shit.” You move away and grab Shoko’s arm to pull her away from the group unaware of your certain change in life.

“Are you going to hide it from Choso until after the big fight or what?” Shoko needs to ask for her own sanity, and because she’s worried too.

“No,” you answer right away since it’s something you’ve already decided on. “I’m going to tell him today. I was just waiting on confirmation.”

Shoko hums and folds her arms over her chest. “Well if anything happens I’m a phone call away.”

You offer her a smile and pat her shoulder. “Thank you, but I don’t think he’ll be angry,” you say hopefully. “At least I hope not.”

——

*LATER*

Later comes that day at night when you’re in bed because that’s the only time you’re actually alone.

Albeit even when you’re in bed, sitting in silence, you can’t seem to gather up the courage to share the news. It’s why Choso thinks nothing of your silence and starts to get affectionate.

First, he grabs your cheek and presses a gentle peck on your other cheek before pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips. He then moves your face to press a kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs and doesn’t deepen your kiss, instead he moves down and presses a wet kiss on your jaw before pressing a gentle kiss over your jugular vein and grazing his lips to the crook of your neck, making you shiver and slide your fingers through his hair to hold the back of his head as he leaves open kisses on your neck.

You almost forget why you’re so nervous and not matching his passionate needs, the hot kisses he leaves on your flesh daze you, but you can’t go on another day without telling him.

“Choso,” you whisper softly and he takes that the wrong way. He thinks you want him to add more fuel to his passion.

“No,” he argues. “Don’t be impatient, my love. I swear I’ll give you what you like when I’m inside you. Just let me appreciate you first.”

Your breath shudders and a hot wave passes over you, threatening to take you under and get you hot and needy for him. But you fight it and repeat his name again with more determination behind your voice this time. “Choso, wait. I need to talk to you.”

Choso sighs but he doesn’t try to argue, he presses one last kiss on your neck and sits up, causing your hand to slide off his head and drop on your lap.

“What is it?” He asks and narrows his gaze to try and figure out what you’re feeling to start helping you in some way. “Are you okay?”

You drop your gaze to your hands and swallow thickly before you climb off the bed to grab the envelope where the ultrasound is. “When we went out,” you start off by saying. “Shoko and I didn’t go to a work thing.” You turn around and face him with worry shown in your white-knitted eyebrows and playing on your nervous frown.

“We went to the clinic. I went to the clinic,” you add, and make him sit up stiffly as he begins to worry.

“Choso,” your voice quivers only because you know his stance on this whole thing. “I…I’m pregnant,” you announce without making eye contact. It will just make sharing your thoughts that much easier.

“I know what you feel about having babies now, and I know it’s too soon, so I… would understand if you don’t want to have them. I mean with the state of the things I can’t be against it either. Just tell me what you want—”

Before you can finish what you wanted to say he throws his arms around you and pulls you in for an embrace with gentle force, but it’s still enough to pull you back on the bed with him.

“Choso!” You squeal and drop the envelope as you grab onto him to not tumble.

You would give into this rush of emotions, and take them as excitement, but this is not a clear answer. You need an honest and clear answer.

“Choso,” you mutter and pull back to sit on your knees and face him with more concern. “You have to be honest with me about this. You can be upset, you can be pissed. It’s okay,” a string of words comes out barely audible due to your nerves.

Choso scoffs and his thick brown eyebrows furrow as he expresses hurt and pity. “Why would I be mad at you?”

You fiddle with your nails and murmur, “because you said it would be careless to have kids now.”

Choso sighs. “Well, it is,” he admits, making you meet his gaze and nod faintly. However, he goes on. “But, I’m at fault. I should have used something to prevent it from happening, but I didn’t. And now that you’re expecting there’s nothing I can do. All I can be is happy because we’re growing our family, because I get to start this path with you, the person I love the most in this world. Y/N, I'm happy.”

You take a moment to believe him, not wanting to miss any hidden emotions he’s too afraid of showing.

But when you don’t see any sign of doubt or feigned happiness you let out a relieved sigh before you grin and let out a cry mixed with a laugh. “We’re having babies,” your voice quivers. “Twins.”

Choso’s eyes widen and his face is struck with even more shock than he originally felt, but this time it feels like his breath gets knocked out of his own lungs too.

“Two?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod and a wobbly smile grows on his face while tears quickly fill his eyes and rush down his cheeks.

“You’re gonna be a father, Cho,” you whisper with your voice oozing with honey. “We’re going to have babies together.”

A breathless laugh of disbelief escapes him before he beams at you as those words echo in his head, letting every part of his mind, and every fragment of his heart know the good news. If he could, he'd shout it for everyone to hear, but he didn’t want to wake Satori, nor could he actually muster any words just yet.

And even if you had known for a while now, telling him about it felt like finding out all over again. You’re so caught up in your disbelief and excitement that you stay as frozen as him for a moment. When it feels like you can move you throw your arms around him and press your forehead against his.

Choso finally snaps out of his stupor and cups your cheeks, holding onto that smile he has plastered on his face that doesn't even seem to disappear when he takes you in for a deep and passionate kiss.

However, the kiss doesn’t last as long as you both would have wanted because he then gets this gnawing worry in his heart that makes him pull back and hold your face. “Will the babies hurt you because of who I really am?” He asks fearfully. “I don’t want you to carry them inside you if it means they’ll take you away from me. I don’t want them if it means hurting you in the process.”

You swallow thickly and shrug. “I can’t say, but Choso in my heart I know these babies are safe to carry. They won’t hurt me.”

Choso glances at your belly with hesitation before meeting your gaze and letting out a deep sigh. “But if they start hurting you let me know. I don’t want to put your life at risk. I can’t lose you.”

Your eyes soften and you share a loving gaze before you pull him for a tight embrace. “They’re beautifully human like you. And even if they do end up looking different I will still love them because they’re a part of you, because they will have good hearts like you, their father.”

Choso scoffs softly at the mention of a title he’ll take a while to get used to, but he hugs you back and presses a kiss on the side of your head.

“Do you want to see where they’re growing?” You can finally ask. “The doctor gave me a picture.”

Choso pulls back and nods quickly, letting you take the envelope you dropped on the mattress to pull out the black and white ultrasound pictures.

“This is where they are,” you show off a pretty empty picture since they’re still too tiny to see.

Not like it matters to Choso, he gets choked up and smiles brightly as if you could see their well-formed bodies.

“Since there’s twins there’s two of these sacs where they’ll grow throughout the nine months,” you continue to explain. “And this ball is a yolk sac, this is what will give our babies nutrients until the placenta is fully formed.”

Choso takes the picture and admires the black bobs.

“In a couple weeks there will be fetuses…here,” you point at your belly after lifting your shirt, making his eyes drift to where you point to with a soft awe-struck look.

“It’s way too soon, but here…” you trail off and take his hand to press his palm on your lower belly where the twins will be for a few weeks as they remain small. “This is where our little poppy seeds are now.”

Choso laughs in disbelief and flashes you a smile before he lets the ultrasound go to press both hands on your belly.

“Soon,” you coo and lay back on the bed now that you’re not tense with worry. Choso is quick to mirror your actions to not lose touch of your belly. “…they will grow ears and they will be able to listen to us. So you can talk to them soon. And then,” you pause and interlace your fingers between his to touch your belly with your fingertips and drag his hand up. “…they’ll grow legs and ten toes and they’ll move and kick. Oh! And before that, soon they’ll grow hearts and we will be able to hear them when we go to the doctors.”

Choso tilts his head down, letting you feel his smile on your stomach before he grazes his lips down and presses two kisses on your belly where you had placed his hand first.

“I’ll tell Yuji. I can’t wait to tell him he’s going to be an uncle,” he muses to your belly as if talking to his forming children rather than you. “And your sister will be happy to know too,” he now speaks to your belly. “I’m sure.”

“Cho,” you whisper. “Not yet.”

Choso lifts his head to show his smile he can’t wipe off his face making it hard for you to be anything but extremely happy with him.

“And,” you add and drag yourself down to be face to face. “I don’t want Satori to know yet. There’s still a risk at the early stages of pregnancy, I don’t want her to get excited just yet, and I don’t want you to be blinded by it either. I know this is good news, but I’ve lost my Kiyoshi, and it can—it can happen again.”

Choso’s lips fall to a frown, making his bright gleaming eyes dull.

“Don't hate me if it happens,” your words come out like word vomit you didn’t mean.

“What?” He gasps with surprise before he cups your cheeks. “Y/N, why would you say that?”

“Because,” your voice trembles. “It happens. I don’t want it to happen, but it’s beyond my control. Do you understand?”

Choso looks at you with sadness for you and comforts you right away even if he too starts to fear that fate. “I do understand. Of course, I do. I could never hate you.”

He presses a kiss on your forehead before leaving a lingering kiss on your lips. Which is what you need to feel reassured.

“I love you,” you coo and cup his jaw to caress his cheek. “And I’m excited to start this path with you. As crazy as having twins will be,” you giggle.

“I told you,” he whispers against your lips. “I wouldn’t want anyone but you to be the mother of my children.”

You smile with bliss at him before you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, while he presses his hand back on your belly.

“Oh,” you add. “You can tell Itadori. Just make sure to tell him not to tell Satori. I’ll tell Kinji and Kirara when you tell Itadori so they don’t feel left out.”

“What about your brother?” Choso asks.

You scoff. “He told me,” you retort.

“What?” He gasps.

You sigh. “He can see cursed energy, and he saw there's. So he announced it to me.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

You don’t answer right away this time, but he had an idea that Satoru wouldn't be too pleased. It would hurt Choso a bit at first because he knew how much your brother meant to you, but he’s getting used to it now.

“He’s just worried that’s all,” you finally find something to say that doesn’t share that Satoru thinks your twins can kill you because of who their father is.

You just don’t want to hurt Choso’s feelings.

“Shoko obviously knows, so that’s all who needs to know for now,” you tell him. “Obviously after we both tell our respective parties.”

“Hm.” Choso hums.

Silence passes for a few minutes, and in that time your eyes get heavy and sleep starts to creep in. You think Choso has fallen asleep already since he’s usually quick to fall asleep. However, then he startles you when you hear him interject in a soft and affectionate way that holds all the meaning behind each word.

“Will you marry me?”

You’re wide awake now but stuck with your face in his neck as you process his words and debate whether it’s real or not.

For a moment you think it was just a figment of your imagination since you were falling asleep, but you hadn’t fallen unconscious, and you know you weren’t dreaming, so…what he said is a real genuine question asked because of your pregnancy.

“No,” you break it to him brutally. “I don’t want you to feel obligated because we’re having babies together. It’s a pity proposal.”

You pull away from him and when you face him you see a pout on his thin lips and his eyes filled with disbelief, meaning you hurt him, and it breaks your heart, but you don’t care. You don’t want him to ask you because it’s his duty now that he’s knocked you up.

“Don’t,” you scold him. “Don’t look at me like that. If you want to marry me it’s because you want to, because you love me not because we’re having babies. Because that’s why you asked, isn't it?”

Choso parts his lips but he doesn’t actually say a thing, not even in the following seconds, so you get the answer to your question.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper and flip around to give him your back. “If you want to marry me, ask me when you have a true reason behind your question. Good night.”

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

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the-old-witch-writes · 2 years ago

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Day 2 🡆 Monsterfucking (Jinbei x afab!reader)

summary: as the Madame to one of the most popular brothels in the Grand Line (no matter what Black Maria might claim), you've been in the business long enough to live by three rules.

no kissing.

never except less than what you're worth.

don't fall in love.

and in all this time, you have never broken these rules. well, except for Him, of course.

pairing: Jinbei x afab!reader, onesided!Kizaru x afab!reader

cw: Jinbei is probably so OOC and i'm sorry for that, reader is a sex worker and a Madame, also is in her mid/late 30s, so there's at least a ten year age gap between reader and Jinbei, reader has a name, gentle dom (mostly)!Jinbei, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, sexual content, reader also smokes, bit of a size kink, slight dumbification, blood mention, biting, Jinbei has two cocks and that's all you need to know, slightly possessive undertones, despite everything reader is pathetically (and secretly) in love with him, the feelings are implied to be mutual...but you know how One Piece men are when it comes to their FEELINGS

Prelude

his solid thighs slap into yours relentlessly, his tall body looming over yours as he groans in your ear.

“Hng, oh my god—!” he praises in his near whiny voice, clearly enjoying himself. “Your pussy’s so good after all these years, like silk, baby! Missed it so much!”

and you? well you just keep resting your head on your folded arms, eyes on the wall in front of you as you fight the urge to fall asleep. how long has he been here? your bored eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall, and your painted lips curl into a sneer. too long.

with a sigh, you clench around his throbbing cock and roll your hips back to slap your lush ass against him, knowing that drives him insane. the old bastard’s been obsessed with your ass for years, and he gets absolutely ridiculous whenever he watches it move, whenever he even touches it.

“O-oh, oh fuck, baby...! Gonna make me cum!”

see what I mean?

hurry up then, you think, blowing a strand of hair from your face. there are more important things for you to do, more people to see. more money to make. the night is still young, after all, and you and your girls gotta eat and keep that roof over your heads steady—and quite frankly, you can only tolerate his presence for so long while remaining sober.

“—So good, so fucking good,” he finally chokes, and then he’s letting out that long groan, his greedy hands squeezing right at your ass as he tosses his head back. “Aw, yeah, take it all baby, yeaaaaah—”

you feel the warmth inside you, filling in the condom he’s wearing, and a bit of relief eases from your chest.

Fucking finally, you think with a long sigh, barely noticing him pulling out and putting himself back together. I’m gonna need such a strong drink after this.

very quickly after, when your rather low cut kimono is back in place, you are leaning against your desk and counting the money he handed you.

“All the belli should be there,” he assures you, still wearing his usual oily smirk—like you weren’t making him cry with your cunt minutes before—and adding in a low voice, “Along with an…extra donation.”

you raise your eyebrows in appraisal, despite still eyeing the money you count. once you see the amount originally promised to you, plus the extra he claims is there, you give him a nonplussed look.

“That’s rather generous of you, Admiral,” you tell him with a gracious nod, slyly reaching behind you to place the money in your lockbox. “We are grateful for your continuing patronage.”

he stares at you, the lenses in his glasses flashing as his eyes narrow slightly.

“…Is that really all, my dear?”

“What else is there to discuss?”

he stares some more, then—with his cheeks slightly flushing—he clears his throat. “My proposal, perhaps…?”

the urge to roll your eyes is strong, but you manage to resist it—barely.

“Kizaru, I’ve told you already,” you tell him, as you have told him a million times prior. “I’m not marrying you.”

his expression falls slightly. “But why not?”

“I’ve told you why.”

“But you haven’t seen him in years, doll. You told me yourself. He’s probably dead by now,” Kizaru croons, his smirk widening as he reaches his long arm to offer you his palm, gold rings glinting under the light. “You’d benefit more if you come with me. I’ll take good care of you, promise…”

you raise one eyebrow, expression dry. then you nod to the door out of your office. “You should go back to your men, Admiral. They’re probably wondering where you are.”

Kizaru’s glasses glint again, just as the offered palm twitches. your gaze remains steady on him, the hand behind you grasping lightly at the hand canon you keep on you at all times.

but then Kizaru lets out a slow, but still chilled laugh.

“If you say so,” he says, adjusting his white coat along his shoulders. “But you really should reconsider, darling. I personally love your establishment and the services you offer—but Akainu will not be so forgiving if he finds out.”

your mouth settles into a frown. it’s not a threat, but the truth is undeniable. this meeting with Kizaru will not be the last—in fact, it will be necessary to keep you and your girls safe.

at least for now.

two pairs of feet are at the door, their steps so light, they might as well have been the wind. you lift a hand up in a gracious gesture.

“Good night, Admiral. Bella and Donna will walk you out.”

“Oh, no, that’s unnecessary. Thank you, of course, girls,” he says to the two masked young women dressed salaciously in red and black. “But I remember my way out…”

you shrug, resisting the urge to spit the spot on the ground he’d stood on—that carpet was a gift from a dignitary in Alabasta, and it would be a shame to have it ruined further—and then fold your arms across your chest.

Suit yourself…prick.

and with a few steps, he is finally—finally— out of your sight.

once he is gone, Donna turns to you. because her mask only covers her eyes and part of her nose, you can see how her painted lips twist in a disgusted sneer.

“Did he really offer marriage? Again? Does he not know what ‘no’ means?”

you take out a cigarette and, once it’s between your lips, quickly ignite the end with the flick of your lighter.

“He’s a pig who answers to the World Government. Of course he doesn’t.”

Bella frowns, a near pox on her soft face and then she lifts her hands to quickly sign, “Are we safe, mistress?”

“For now,” you reply gently while sitting down in your chair. “But be on your guard. We don’t know how long Kizaru’s ‘kindness’ will last.”

a pause.

“Well, pig or not, he’s pathetic—very much like every other man who’s proposed to you,” Donna sneers, hands on her hips. “Why don’t they all just move on?”

Because I’m good at what I do, part of you wants to answer, but you shrug instead. to make such a statement is unnecessary.

“I wouldn’t put too much blame on them, really,” you say with a smirk while spinning your chair to face your window, seeing the full moon overlook the calm sea. just looking reminds you of the smell of salt, of drinking sake and talking, of him holding your hand, of his sharp teeth on your throat—

after taking a slow drag of your cigarette, you release a smoke ring in the shape of a blazing sun.

“Not their fault I was ruined for human men years ago.”

The Return

weeks later, when you get news of his arrival on your island—of him heading towards your establishment—every inch of you bursts into flame. your hands start to shake and your skin is flushed from heat and longing and oh my god he's finally coming to see me after all this time.

no time to waste. you've got to get ready.

you leap to your closet to go through the dresses hanging in your closet, shifting until you come across a particularly lovely and salacious kimono—one you recall him liking quite a lot—and then snatch it off the hanger. the robes still fit you, thankfully, with the sleeves hanging slightly off the shoulder and your ample cleavage still covered but only enough to entice, to tease.

turning to the mirror, you start to fix up your hair. memories inspire you to undo your bun and leave it flowing down your back, over your bare shoulders. you run a hand through your hair to give it some volume and check the mirror. Perfect, you think. he will be pleased to see your hair down; he is very fond of running his fingers through it.

(you are too, of course. there is little you would do for him.)

when you hear the knock, you leap back to your desk. you lean on the edge, lifting one leg through the part of your kimono to lean your foot against the mahogany, just enough to reveal one of your rather thick thighs through the parting, but still enough to maintain your modesty. you quickly grab your pipe and inhale the weed inside, to give yourself an air of nonchalance. of the aloof and mysterious madam running the best brothel on this side of the Grand Line. (no matter what Black Maria says.) you don't pine, let alone fall in love—much like your girls don't. you have not been eager to have him visit again, after all these years. aloof and mysterious Madam Spider Lily, they call you.

you imagine you’re quite a sight at the moment. any man would absolutely salivate at the sight of you.

and that’s why you’re so nervous. because the truth is, he is not just any man. he is unlike any other man you will ever meet, in many ways.

still, despite your stomach fluttering—or perhaps because of it—you clear your throat and finally call, “Come in!”

slowly, the door opens. he steps inside carefully, ducking his head and leaning one palm against the doorway. when he’s fully inside, he stands at his full height—which would loom over three of you stacked together—and then stares down at you, his expression softening.

“Sayo,” he rumbles out your name, like the word itself was a prayer.

feeling weak, your expression begins to melt as your eyes widen and sparkle up at him.

God, has he always been this…massive?

trick question, of course he has. it was the first thing you noticed about him years ago, when you were twenty years old and just green enough to be feel uncertain about sleeping with a Fishman for the first time—let alone one close to Fisher Tiger, who wasn’t really known for being…kind to the girls you worked with at the time—but now? seeing him after two years?

your thighs squeeze together, trying to quell the wet heat gathering there, the ache slowly building. your tongue swipes across your mouth, just as your eyes turn dark.

“Jinbei,” you reply, making your voice like the softest, most expensive silk. while taking another puff of your pipe, you start to step away from your desk. “It’s been quite some time.”

“Two years,” he says.

And six months, two days, you add mentally while making a show of inspecting your nail, your fingers first curling into your palm and then stretching outward.

“Oh, really?” you say. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Jinbei watches you, his head tilting slightly. then the side of his mouth quirks upwards as his brow twists to make his expression wry. he steps towards you slowly, almost like a prowl really, and gently places his palms on either side of your hips. and throughout all that time, you refuse to look up, even with the heat spreading across the back of your neck, even as you begin chewing your bottom lip. but then a cool hand cradles the side of your face, thumb stroking near your chin. then Jinbei is grasping your chin, gently turning your head, and then tilting it upward so you’re looking right into his eyes. your throat tightens, the eye contact is a lot, but you don’t fight him.

“…I missed you, dear,” Jinbei whispers.

heart fluttering, you reply, “Truly?”

“Truly.”

the sound of his voice makes you melt, a smile spreading across your flushed face automatically as your eyes cloud over—but then you catch yourself in time. you sit upright, then move away from his grip to cross your arms over your chest, expression freezing over.

“Words are cheap,” you tell him. then, with a jerk of your head, a challenge in your expression, “Show me how much you missed me.”

Jinbei’s expression falters for a moment, the gaze in his dark eyes melting into something he is still afraid to name, even after fifteen years of this thing between you two—but again, only for a moment. you likely don’t catch it in time.

the hand previously cradling your face quickly moves to rest on the side of your torso, right under your arm. slightly stunned, you feel Jinbei’s other hand grasp your other side and with barely a struggle, he lifts you off the ground until you are at eye level with him. breathing harshly, you feel your heart hammer against your ribs, feel searing heat shoot right to your cunt. he stares at you for a moment, his gaze full of fire, before tossing you over one of his shoulders.

and you’re stunned, for a moment, before placing your palms against his back and glaring over at him.

“H-hey, this was not what I meant…!”

“Where’s your room again?” Jinbei mutters, looking around the room before he notices the door on the left of your desk. “Ah, there it is…”

before you can protest further, the door is practically kicked open and you’re thrown right onto the soft bed with crimson sheets. a yelp leaves you as you bounce, and you stare up at the ceiling to try to catch your breath.

How dare he—? Treating me like this, you think with a whimper. It’s hardly fair!

you barely sit up before one hand is on your throat to pin you down while the other is on the inside of your right thigh—spreading, exposing, claws digging slightly into your soft skin—and then, of course, Jinbei’s there. his breath is hot, his teeth nearly graze against your folds before his mouth opens and then his tongue delivers a fat lick along your slit, resulting in a weak moan leaving you, the pleasure tearing apart your resolve, reminding you just how badly you’ve been wanting him inside you, after so much disappointment from other men. how much you’ve been aching for his attention. a small, dreamy smile starts to spread across your lips as your cheeks flood with heat, as you lay back and let him have his way.

then, just as you start to relax, that tongue is thrusting inside your cunt, thick and twisting and relentless.

you let out another moan, shaky but deep from your throat, and then writhe against the bed, the only sensation grounding you is the feel of Jinbei’s giant hand tightening slightly around your neck, keeping you in place but giving you enough room to call out your safe word if the moment called for it—not that it crosses your mind, really, you’re too overcome with your desire for him.

still, as Jinbei seems intent on eating you alive, you still can’t help but writhe on the bed, mind growing empty of all thought. you want more, it’s too much, it’s not enough, he should be more gentle with you it’s been so long, I want him to fuck me like a beast—

embarrassingly (well, for you), it isn’t long before you fall apart at the seams, your eyes rolling back and your toes curling as you scream and scream, waves of pleasure spilling from you. he snarls against your cunt, satisfied at the slick gushing into his mouth, dripping onto the sheets. his long tongue continues to thrust inside you, to twist and swirl—anything to make sure every inch of you feels him—and then it’s curling right there, right where you’re reaching your peak.

finally, as your lower stomach tightens and your teeth clench, the fire building inside you becomes impossible to control.

“J-Jinbei!”

you press your palms at his shoulders, perhaps as an attempt to push him away, to tell him to be gentle with you—but he’s too big, too ravenous. your small hands probably feel like nothing to him right now. you try hard not to whimper at the thought, at imagining him looming over you and how his presence brings out something in you no other has. men like Kizaru are pigs. fucking them is barely business anymore, it’s a chore; something you do to make sure you and your girls stay fed.

how can any man mean anything else to you, after He ruined you, so many years ago, when you were young yet had a heart full of cold steel?

“Jinbei, please…!”

he lets out another growl against you, mixed with a deep moan. he pulls up from you, swiping his tongue across his mouth, his eyes dark but full of warmth. no other man has ever looked at you like that, like you mean something. like you’re more than just another whore to throw money at when the deed is done.

seeing that, your heart trembles, even as the gaze in your eyes hardens. you refuse to hold back anymore.

your hands reach up for the collar of his kimono to pull him down to meet you. although Jinbei is much stronger than you—that even trying to pull him to do anything is like moving a stone—he still dips down to bring his mouth to yours. kissing him is a bit of a challenge—his mouth is full of sharp teeth, so your lips are never left without bruises or slight cuts, no matter how gently he always tries to handle you—but you don’t care. with a moan, you tangle your tongue with his; and with a needy mewl, you reach up to tangle your fingers through his hair and then rest your hands on his shoulders, the sides of your mouth stinging already as the kiss deepens.

you barely notice Jinbei undoing his kimono, or the fastens of his pants—but when you feel him, oh you feel him.

gasping, you eagerly look down to see both his cocks out and ready, and your body clenches with need. immediately, something feral and burning erupts from inside you, causing your hands to clench around his shoulders.

Jinbei swallows, watching your expression carefully.

“H-how do you want…?”

“Both,” you answer instantly.

his brows rise to his hairline, eyes wide as he sputters out, “Both?”

licking your lips, you nod. your eyelids close to hood your gaze while you sneak a hand down to stroke one of his long, fat cocks. “I want all of you,” you purr out.

hearing that, Jinbei’s cheeks flood with color and there’s this odd sparkle in his eyes—and then, fire.

with a little squeal, you find yourself on your stomach, your bottom half lifted up so you’re kneeling on the plush bed. Jinbei crawls behind you to mount you, your ass right against the curve of his cocks and his thighs right behind yours, practically forcing them apart. the tips of them brush right against your entrances—the bottom one pressed right at the slick folds of your body, while the one on top is pressing right against the pucker of your ass—and you bite back a moan.

he looms over you then, growling against the shell of your ear. “Ready?”

you can barely speak, can only nod frantically, pressing your face against the bed as you hum out in a near whine, “Mm-hm, mm-hm…!”

“Good.”

then he’s pushing in and in and oh god—your mouth parts to let out a long, keening moan as your eyes go clouded, your mind empty. fuck, fuck, he’s still so big and with both cocks inside you, you’re left so full. you really shouldn’t try to take him. most sane women would have ran away. but your body only clenches and sucks him in deeper as he moves gently inside you, opens you up so you can take more of him.

with a mewl, you start rolling your hips back to meet him, making Jinbei let out a choked groan behind you before he firmly places a hand to your lower back.

“Stay still,” he demands in a growl.

“Jinbei,” you beg in a whine, squirming under his cool palm. “Need you…”

“Sayo, I won’t risk hurting you. So stop being a little brat,” Jinbei emphasizes with his webbed fingers grasping the roots of your long dark hair, the pressure still enough to keep you in place as he growls, “and do as I say.”

with that said, he shoves the rest of himself inside you, his fat cocks stuffing your holes instantly. your back arches as you let out a broken moan, your thighs trembling. Jinbei groans behind you, then looms over you to breathe hotly in your ear.

“Can I—?”

“Please!”

he huffs out a laugh but obeys instantly, proceeding to fuck you so hard and fast your eyes end up rolling back. it isn’t long before the only sounds in your bedroom are your moans bouncing off the walls, the sounds of your skin meeting his, and the soft but filthy words he whispers into your neck.

“…Look how your body sucks me in so eagerly, darling,” Jinbei rasps, his grin widening at how you cry out wordlessly, your eyes glossy and tearing up with each drag of his cocks inside your body. “I forgot how greedy you are, how much of a whore you can turn into when I fuck you…”

you let out a moan, barely a string of words together. “…you!”

he hooks his hand under your chin and tilts your head up so he can bore into those wide eyes of yours. “What’s that, dear? I didn’t hear you.”

“Only for you,” you repeat, sounding clearer through your moans. you blink tears away and add, “Only for you, Jinbei!”

Jinbei pauses a second, his expression faltering a fraction—and then he’s snarling, a flush across his cheeks.

“Damn right!”

with that growl, he dips his face downward to the side of your neck and sinks his teeth into your shoulder, eagerly suckling at the little drops of blood that seep from the wound. as you let out another cry of his name, Jinbei increases the ardor in his thrusts, making sure to drag every inch of him against the spots inside you that make you see stars. while one hand remains under your chin, his free hand sneaks between your legs and begins stroking your pulsing clit to the rhythm of his thrusts.

it isn’t long before your moans become longer, until your voice starts to tremble.

“J-Jinbei, I can’t, I can’t—”

Jinbei doesn’t respond beyond licking at the bite wounds he left on your neck and increasing the strokes of his fingers on your body. then, before you can even think to hold back, your whole world explodes in pleasure that gushes and gushes out of your cunt. you scream along with it, each wave of your orgasm hitting you and making your knees buckle into the bed—the only thing holding you up being Jinbei’s hands going to your waist and keeping you in place as he uses you to chase after his own orgasm.

“Yes, darling, just like that. You’re so good, you always are,” he praises, his groans becoming choked. “I’m almost there, almost—!”

he suddenly moans, long and deep as his cum gushes inside your cunt and ass, dripping around his cocks and dribbling down the inside of your thighs. then Jinbei nearly collapses on top of you, turning his head to leave fervent kisses and bites along your neck and shoulders.

although you’re practically a drooling, moaning mush of a woman, you can’t help but start grinning drunkenly as he leaves you an utter mess on the bed.

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